#sometimes the artists make the angel a woman but so many of them are so intimate

[blueish-bird]

I'll make the character as introspective and poetic as I want but I will respect that in canon they probably don't know what a whisk is

[literallygeeway]

intro post!!

name: just call me caleb

age: dont wanna disclose but i am a minor so please dont be weird!!

pronouns: he/they idk

gender: kind of just unlabeled rn it hurts my head too much to think about

sexuality: also unlabeled. i kind of just like anyone in any way it doesnt really matter idk (but i have a beautiful beautiful gf :3)

favourite artist: my chemical romance!!!

other favourite artists: bikini kill, mommy long legs, mitski, bratmobile, cat valley, hell baby, dazey and the scouts, wet leg, skinny girl diet, the muslims, voodoo church, crass, chumbawamba

other artists i just generally like (yes i love music): sonic youth, le tigre, the julie ruin, pierce the veil, x-ray spex, pleasure venom, olivia jean, necromancy, catholic spit, picture me broken

hobbies: music (i can play bass, guitar, drums and piano), writing, photography, filmmaking, cinematography, drawing, making bracelets (though i need to do it more often)

some other stuff i like also includes: heathers the musical (off broadway) (its the only musical i really like), studio ghibli, the sims 4, omori, undertale, deltarune, stardew valley, ddlc, mouthwashing, doctor who, the umbrella academy, the owl house, bojack horseman, adventure time and scott pilgrim (the tv show, movie and game - i havent read the graphic novel but want to)

more stuff under the cut - dni, fun facts and some more stuff :3

fun facts!!!

my favourite colour is dark red

my favourite food is sushi

im learning japanese and french

my favourite movies are parasite, everything everywhere all at once and isle of dogs!! my favourite tv shows are i am not okay with this and the end of the f***ing world

i love wes anderson movies!!

i had two fish called flamey and sir bubbles the fishington when i was younger but they both died so i flushed them down the toilet

i collect bottles and cans (mainly ramune bottles and one cool can but still), funko pops (i have two gerard way funko pops - the black parade with the facepaint and revenge red tie) and vinyls (mcr, mitski, bikini kill, the muslims and wet leg)

dni!!!

basic dni like homophobic, transphobic, ableist, racist, pro-isreal, islamophobic, etc

mcr haters!! /hj

shipping irl people unless its a joke

transmeds and terfs

people who think trans men cant present femininely and trans women cant present masculinely (im a trans-ish guy who wears skirts sometimes so suck my toe)

people who unironically think gerard way is a trans woman... guys he's said they use he/they pronouns and if he was a trans woman he would probably say something!!

please interact!!

mcr fans

riot grrrl fans (not problematic)

alternative people!!! (emo, punk, goth, scene, decora, etc)

just cool people in general :3

other stuff:

no need to use tonetags with me, dont worry about it

i use !!! and :3 and stuff like that a lot, and i also swear more than the average human should

im alternative but dont have a specific label as i dress in a mix of ways and listen to many different genres of music :3

on here i'm mainly gonna post about mcr, so if you dont like them you probably wont like most of the stuff i post :<

i will probably edit this as i think of more stuff to add and as my interests change but yeah <3

pinterest: literallygeeway

instagram: killj0ysneverd1e (i only use it to look at mikey way and frank iero's stories)

fav user: @darkermylovex (go follow her rn she is awesome!!)

I DID NOT MAKE THE PNG THAT APPEARED EARLIER!!

fav songs currently:

okay thats all, have a great day, bye bye :3!!!!

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Consultant: Morgan le Fey Case | Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!Reader ft. the Justice League

Synopsis: A collection of short scenarios of Vivian’s many encounters with the Justice League, whether it was to consult or to learn about bad news about Bruce. While Superman is the strongest in the Justice League, he never wants to be the one to break the news to her whenever Batman is injured from a mission.

Note: This is a long chapter with almost 15 000 words.

Ever since she regained her powers from the binding, Vivian has been called to the Justice League to consult on certain cases. As much as possible, they would go to their magical experts in the League but sometimes Zatanna and the other members of the Justice League Dark got their hands full, or the cases were beyond their knowledge. In this case, Zatanna was the one who told them that their best option was either John Constantine, who was currently hiding so well the JLA was unable to find, or Vivian Pryor.

“John’s a human mage, he knows more about dark magic than I do,” she decided to leave the fact he was infected with demon blood. “And Vivian, they were close. She may be homo-magi like me but her practices are influenced by John.”

“Because he taught her,” Wonder Woman concluded.

“Yes, and there is also the fact she’s a descendant of generations of witches that goes beyond the Salem Witch Hunt. Then there is also the fact that she’s a professor who studies symbols and icons, she also uses that knowledge in her magic. If there’s anyone who can deal with dark magic, it’s those two. It’s how they can stand the feeling of using dark magic I can never comprehend.”

Problem was, Batman just gave Vivian’s reply to the JLA’s invitation, which was a “thanks but no” – not her exact words but that’s how Hal took it. Knowing the Bat and how protective he was of his personal life, especially towards his family, it won’t be easy to ask him to have her help. 

Their best option was to approach Vivian themselves and ask her. 

They can’t go to her in their hero identity, so Clark and Diana approached her while in their civilian identities as Clark Kent, reporter, and Diana Price, museum curator. On this particular day, Vivian is working at Gotham Museum, making it easy for them to call for her without arousing suspicion from her colleagues. 

After asking for Vivian at the front desk, the two led to a certain part of the museum by the attendee and were brought to the Wayne Family Wing where Bruce Wayne stood in his suit, admiring the large painting on the wall.

Shit.

Of course, he would find out first.

The attendee told Bruce that the guests were there and then left, closing the wing’s door after him.

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark greeted him first.

“This was painted by a Gothamite artist back in the beginning of the 20th century,” Bruce began. “It was inspired by The Triumph Of Christianity Over Paganism by Gustave Doré. But instead of Christianity triumphing over pagan belief, the Gothamite artist placed the five founding families being triumphant over angels and demons. There has been a debate if the artist’s message was supposed to show the hubris of Gotham’s Founders, or the resilience of Gothamites over natural and supernatural disasters. Man killing gods. ”

“Bruce,” Diana started.

Bruce faced them, frowning. “Do you really think I wouldn’t know if you entered Gotham?”

“It’s important, Vivian is the only one who can help us and you know it,” said Clark.

“I may not like this but this is her decision to make.”

“Then what’s this whole show then?”

“To remind you not to go behind my back ever again. Especially when bringing my wife into this business.”

The sound of boots clicking on the floor caught their attention, and entering from the other closed door was Vivian Pryor-Wayne, dressed in her daily work outfit with her tweed jacket, turtleneck, and skirt. 

“I just finished my lecture,” Vivian informed them, “Sorry if I took so long.”

“They didn’t make an appointment,” said Bruce and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“So, what can I do for you both?”

“Is there a place we can speak privately?” Clark asked.

“Don’t worry, the area is secured. I placed a spell to keep our discussions from leaving the room. No one will hear us, even if they try to listen in. So, what can I do for the Justice League? I assume it is the Justice League since you went behind Batman’s back to talk to me and failed. But good effort.”

“Morgan le Fay.”

“Ah! Good old Morgana.”

“We assume you've encountered her?” Diana said.

“Yes, I have. Not a very good encounter too. Especially with her son, Mordred. He's a bit of a mama's boy. What did the incestuous sorceress do now?”

Clark took note of the descriptive word Vivian used on the sorceress but decided not to mention it. Instead, he offered his mind to show the cases they have found recently. Using her magic, Vivian used one of the old mirrors in the exhibit display and had the memories appear in replace of their reflection. 

“Multiple accounts of bodies suddenly in that state were found in numerous places in London. Zatanna was the one to identify it was dark magic used. For the castor, Green Lantern was the one who saw the case and had to retreat when he too was almost…”

“When his soul and life force was almost sucked in by the sorceress,” Vivian continued, her eyes never leaving the mirror as she studied the scenes.

“Why wasn't I informed about this?” Batman demanded.

“You were busy in your own missions, Batman,” said Diana, as if it were enough to explain to one of the founding members of the Justice League. It wasn't.

“So, what do you think she's doing? A power-grab? Some tool she needs to power up for? Superman asked.

“No. Mortal souls cannot power any magical tool — unless you want to create the Alchemyst's Stone,” Vivian pondered aloud.

“You mean the Philosopher's Stone?” 

Vivian looked closer to the scene where Green Lantern got a good look at Morgana. Her face. “She's aging. Her immortality is fading… why?”

“You're the expert here, Viv.”

Vivian closed the mirror spell with a wave of a hand and turned to them. “I'll take a look at this. See why the old bat is getting old and try to reason with her.”

“How about you apprehend her?” Diana said.

“I'm not a member of the Justice League, and with good reason,” Vivian shoved her hands deep in her pockets. “There's an unspoken rule in our community. We don't mind each other's business and we don't find ourselves killed. It's either I leave you alone or I kill you. This is dark magic, we can't just hold hands and hope fore rehabilitation or hope for the system to do its job. People like Morgan le Fey do not submit to any kind of jurisdiction.

“The best I can do is to see what’s wrong, help her out so she stops this soul sucking gig she's started. If you want to apprehend her, do it after I do my thing make it look like I wasn't part of it.”

“That’s not how the League operates,” said Diana.

“It's survival. There's a whole world of dark magic users, and I don't want to be marked as a whistleblower. It's a one way trip to hell. The magical community is vast, Wonder Woman. We lurk amongst mortals without them nor the JLA knowing, but we know each other, and it's easy to find that one person who told the JLA about Morgan le Fey and helped them. If you want my help. Those are my terms. I talk to her, give her what she needs but I don't let you take her. For my sake and for Bruce and my family, I'll need to take you down too.”

Bruce smirked and turned to Superman and Wonder Woman, “Well? Do you still want her as a consultant?”

Reluctant, Superman and Wonder Woman nodded and said, “Yes. We'll agree to your terms.”

“Great,” Vivian clapped her hands and her work clothes changed to a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt, and a long, maroon coat that fanned around whenever she moves; and in her hands a thin and sharp hair stick appeared which she used to tie her hair. It was both an accessory and a weapon. “Let's go!”

“Just like that?” Superman said.

“Well, do you want Morgana to suck more souls?”

“No.”

“I'm coming with you,” Batman said. “I'll change in the car.”

“You brought the Batmobile?” Clark asked.

“No, but we're taking my car first and then meet the Batmobile somewhere,” said Vivian. “I don't suppose you two are coming along?”

“There's no space,” Bruce stated.

“It's a five seater, Bruce,” Clark stated. “I've seen Vivian's car.”

“There's still no space.”

“He's embarrassed to change while you're in there,” she teased her husband. “But this isn't turf, Superman. Your vibrant red and blue don't blend in with the darkness.”

“Robin wears red, green, and yellow, Viv,” Clark countered.

“It's more of a rank thing really. The baby bird isn't ready to blend in the night just yet.”

“I thought Jason was baby bird?” 

“He's grown out of it. Imagine calling a hulking man ‘baby bird’. So, I'll have Batman was my personal escort around — send him the details and I'll be sending you the bill right after.”

“Are you going to charge us?” 

“Kidding! Not really,” she whispered in the last part.

~*~

Driving into the crypts brought nostalgia to Vivian. These were the very same crypts that she and Bruce went to on their first mission together when Deacon Blackfire killed her agent and tried to kill her to bathe in her blood. After closing this part of Gotham, Bruce went back and made it look like the place was blocked away from  the public, but he actually turned it to a secret place for meet ups with the Batmobile.

“Not a stone nor dirt out of place,” Vivian giggled as she saw the gargoyles she summoned to life and protect Batman from Deacon's followers and cage them.  . “How sweet of you.”

Batman smiled. “Nostalgic?”

“Yeah, it was my very first case with the Batman.”

Bruce chuckled, he took Vivian's hand and caressed the rings she wore. Her engagement ring and wedding band. “Who would have thought a case involving a murder and Deacon Blackfire wanting to kill you for your blood would lead to this.”

“Who would have thought indeed,” Vivian got on her toes and placed a kiss on his lips. “Alfred's running late.”

Bruce wrapped his arms around her. “I don't mind.”

Grinning, Vivian brought him down for another kiss, this time much deeper and passionate –

“Well, this is…” Clark's voice echoed in the dark crypt.

Breaking the kiss, Vivian and Batman found the Kryptonian floating a few feet above ground looking at them. 

“What are you doing here?” Batman questioned him.

“Diana and I thought it would be best if I come along, incase of back-up.”

“I'm back-up.”

“No offense, Clark, but to be honest, I think J'onn would be more suitable for this mission. Or Dinah and Oliver,” said Vivian.

“What's the problem with having me around?”

“They're inconspicuous.” 

“Batman is a known founding member of the Justice League,” 

“Yeah, he blends in, and he's already built a name there.”

A years ago, during her and Bruce's date, they encountered a mystery of a wolf terrorizing Eastend. First problem: there were no wolves in Gotham. Second: if there was, there was no reports of the zoo losing one. Turns out the wolf was a man who was turned to a werewolf, and to help him, Vivian brought Bruce – who was in disguise as some random person – to one of the hidden clubs in Gotham that was run by a voodoo witch-doctor, Papa Midnite. It was there that Bruce saw the truth of the dark arts and the supernatural world. They were able to save the man who was turning into a werewolf by giving him a wolfsbane potion, which Vivian brew, and sent him back home to his family.

The Batmobile arrived, entering from the tunnels, and after parking beside Vivian's car, Alfred got out and greeted them. “Early shift, Sir?”

“Hi Alfred,” Clark greeted.

“There's a case that Vivian is needed by the JLA. Can you take her car back to the manor using the same route we took,” said Bruce.

“If I can drive that vehicle with so many buttons with half of it being a button to self-destruct or destroy a building, I'm sure I can manage a simple sedan,” said Alfred.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Vivian handed him the keys.

“Coffee, Mrs. Pryor?” the old butler handed her a thermos.

“You always know what I need,” she happily took the thermos.

“How many have you drunk since this morning?” Bruce asked. Vivian ignored him and got in the front seat of the Batmobile. “You're riding at the back.”

Clark sighed but smiled. “Figures.”

“And change, I have some civilian clothes there that would fit you.”

Superman floated to the back, sat down, and buckled in. Batman sighed and went to the driver's seat, he said goodbye to Alfred before closing the hatchet and driving away.

“So, that's the place you both met?” Clark spoke as he changed to the clothes Bruce mentioned.

“Not really met but where we ended the case,” said Vivian. “The first time I encountered Batman I was nineteen and just moved to Gotham. He saved me from some muggers who were about to… you know.”

“I see…”

“He was still clumsy then, too. Got stabbed a couple of times.”

“It was the first year, Viv,” said Batman. “You were nineteen then?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. I just remember how younger you are than me.”

Vivian reached out and caressed his cheek to reassure him that it shouldn't bother him too much. “Then after that, some other cases, like Firefly burning a club — saw Batman there, he got everyone to safety. Not that I needed saving then because of my magic.”

“You were out of practice.”

Vivian shrugged. “Then the other time at the bank.”

“You seem to have gotten in the middle of the crossfire of Gotham's crimes too often even before meeting Bruce,” said Clark.

“It's Gotham City.”

“The first official meeting we had was during her book launch,” Bruce spoke. “But as Bruce Wayne, the first time I met her as Batman was when Gordon had her in protective custody in a house at Gotham Heights.”

Vivian smiled at the memory. It was the first time that someone gave her that sense of safety whenever her magic made her sensitive to the ghosts around her. “Oh, turn here,” she told Batman.

“We're not going to the club?”

“We are, but we need to bring something for him — a trade.”

Vivian got out and bought something from the shop. It took her a little while but she returned with a bottle of brandy and vodka. 

Arriving at the club, Batman parked his car in the alleyway and followed Vivian. He told Clark to keep his head down and follow their lead as they descended the sketchy looking stairs and stood before a bouncer that was bigger than him and Bruce.

“Pyotr,” she greeted.

The man, Pyotr smiled, and for a moment his eyes shone red. “Vivian Pryor,” he greeted with a thick Russian accent.

Vivian got out a bottle. It was vodka. 

Pyotr sighed and spoke in old Russian, “Rules, Vivian.”

Vivian replied in the same language, “Please. You let me do it the last time.”

“Consequences.”

“I'll handle, Papa Midnite. Please.”

Pyotr looked at her as she pouted and sighed. He messed with her hair, making Vivian snicker, and took the bottle. “But first,” he showed the card where two ducks sat on a cloud.

“Two frogs on a bench,” she replied.

Pyotr moved aside and opened the door for her. She, Batman, and a disguised Clark entered the club where an eternal night was. Music blared loudly and luminous lights flashed around. People – rather, creatures and immortal beings were inside dancing, drinking, or fucking on the benches. Clark wasn't sure what to react with what he was seeing, it was just too much for him.

“Easy, boy scout,” Batman teased him. “This is just the first floor. The ones below are much, much darker.”

“There's more?” Clark said.

“The lower you go, the more things get complicated and unconventional. Keep up.”

The two men followed Vivian to the guarded double door where she spoke to the two… vampires. They looked at her then to Batman and Clark. “They're with me,” she told them. “And Papa Midnite wouldn't want my or my guests' blood all over the floor.”

Reluctantly, the two moved aside and let them through. Behind those doors, Clark was surprised to find the room quieter and more civilized. There was a library inside and a collection of magical items. The further they went in, Clark found himself disoriented. Weren't they in the basement earlier? How come they were now walking into a shop that had the view of another side of Gotham.

“Vivian Pryor,” Papa Midnite greeted her. “Welcome back.”

“Papa Midnite,” Vivian greeted and showed him the brandy. 

The witch-doctor accepted the gift and placed it on his desk. “I see you brought Batman again, and another one.”

“JLA business — they asked for a consultation.”

“Then you're getting paid.”

“Their payment is getting off my back for a couple of months. It's about Morgana.”

“Ah, the King's half-sister.”

“And the mother of his living child, Mordred.”

“You're going to turn her in?”

“No. My concern is just her stopping with the whole soul-sucking business. And to do that I need to help her gain her immortality and be off my merry way.”

“Why not take every bit of power she has?”

“I can't do that –”

“Can't you? You can if you wish — Phoenix. Destroyer of Worlds. Creator of Life. The Ouroboros.”

“So, you know.”

“Everyone knows. We all felt it, just as we felt it found its host in you, Vivian. Like I said,” he opened the bottle and poured it into two glasses. “Welcome back.”

Vivian took the glass and clinked it with Papa Midnite's own. “John helped with controlling it. And he's teaching me.”

“That does not sound like Constantine,” Papa Midnite moved around to look for something in his study. 

“He makes me take him to a pub right after.”

“That sounds like John,” Papa Midnite returned with a vial in hand. “Blood of the demon.”

“She's already a monster, Midnite.”

“Which is where the Alchemyst's Stone is needed. Normally to use the Stone, a hundred sacrifices is needed, but with this demon's blood, one drop is enough.”

“Why go through that massacre?” Clark spoke for the first time since they entered the shop. 

“Because it is easier to get a hundred souls than to call and fight the demon Mictlantecuhtli.”

“People die before they can even finish the ritual. Killing is far easier then,” Vivian took the vial and hid it in her coat's pocket. “The Stone?”

“I do not have it.”

Vivian sighed. “Do you know where it is?”

“You know who to ask.”

“Right…”

Smiling, Papa Midnite gave her another thing. A gallow's rope. “Safe trip, Vivian Pryor.”

Vivian accepted the rope and led Batman and Clark out of the store. This time Clark was really, really confused. How did they end up back where they came from? Even the Batmobile was there!

“Where to now?” Batman asked her.

“I need to ask the Fates where the stone is,” Vivian replied. “But first, I need to gather my offerings.”

“Offerings?” 

“I need a snake.”

“There's a pet store not far.”

“And a crossroads.”

“Does the intersection work?” 

Vivian laughed. “How about somewhere that's not in the middle of traffic? We can head to the Estate. There's a perfect crossroads there. First, can you get the snake?”

Batman nodded and went to the pet store across the road.

Clark went to her side and watched as Batman went inside, like it was a normal thing to do in his uniform. “I don't think I'll ever get used to this.”

“The magic or Batman going to a pet shop because I said pretty please?” Vivian smiled as she watched Batman point to the large snake in the tank and paid the store attendant.

“Both.”

Not long, Batman returned with the snake in the tank. Vivian reaches inside and lets the snake crawl around her arm and into the pocket of her coat, surprising the two men. 

“That was a snake, Vivian,” Batman pointed out. “And I paid for the tank.”

“Then take it back and get your money,” she teased.

“I'm more concerned with the snake in her coat,” said Clark.

“It'll be okay.”

“My concern is mostly for you.”

“I'll be alright. Let's go,” she got inside the car and acted normally, as if she were not holding a snake in her coat.

Superman turned to Batman and said, “Do you ever get used to this?”

“No. Not really. It's what makes our marriage interesting.”

~*~

It was deep into the Wayne Estate that Vivian found the crossroads she needed. Using the tree she had the gallows’ rope tied to it, and in the middle of the crossroads she stood. It was getting dark now, and in any minute the sun will be gone, making it the perfect time for her to make the call. 

Not far from where she stood, Batman and Superman stood by the Batmobile, watching. The latter was completely confused as to why Vivian had all of these prepared and for what. 

“I see,” Alfred appeared. “Another summoning ritual, Sir?”

“Yes.”

“This isn't the first time?” Superman asked them.

“No, but this is different from the last,” said Alfred.

“The last time she summoned a ghost to speak for another case,” said Batman.

“This is beyond interesting, Bruce,” Superman muttered.

Darkness came to the skies and in the middle of the crossroads, where she stood, fire appeared, burning the grass to create the symbol. Kneeling on the ground, Vivian began the ritual, “Maiden, Mother, Crone, your child, your blood, summons you. I heed your aid in this trial I face. I call for the aid of the Fates. The-Three-Who-Are-One, The-One-Who-is-Three. The Hecate.”

Lightning flashed in the once clear dark skies, and mist surrounded the area making it hard for the three men to see her. 

From where she stood, Vivian saw the silhouette of three women appearing. One a Crone, one an older woman, and one a maiden. They flashed before her, slowly approaching until they surrounded Vivian. The Fates have arrived.

“Vivian Pryor, it's been a while,” said the Maiden.

“You've grown since we last spoke, love,” said the Mother.

“You were but a wee child clutching to her mother's skirts when we last saw you,” said the Crone.

“But we've seen you. Watched you,” said the Maiden. “Grew with you,” she had Vivian stand.

A hand was placed on her belly. “And grieved with you,” said the Maiden.

“And saw your imminent return,” said the Crone. 

Vivian kept her head bowed but she would peek at the Fates, humbled before their presence. “I was just a child when I saw the Hecate… it was you who gave my mother the answers to hide my power and how to hide me.”

“Do you wish to hide, child?” The Mother asked.

“No. I do not. I am in need of your help.”

The Crone scoffed. “Another request. Pryor women.”

“Calm now, sister-self,” said the Mother.

“Vivian has brought gifts,” said the Maiden.

“Vivian opened her coat and lets the serpent slither from the pocket and to her arm where the Crone's hand met hers. The Mother welcomed the serpent and let it enter her mouth. Swallowing it whole was the Maiden.

“You may ask us three questions,” said the Crone.

“And get one answer from each of us,” said the Maiden.

“Thank you,” Vivian bowed her head. “My first question: The Alchemyst's Stone. It was once owned by the witch-doctor, Midnite, where is it?”

It was the Maiden who answered: “It was last seen and bought by a wealthy man.”

For a moment, Vivian saw an auction take place and shown at the stage was the Alchemyst's Stone. The beautiful stone wrapped in gold and encased in glass. She sat in the back with the Maiden at her side and watched as a bald man raised the highest bid and bought the item.

“When was this?” Vivian asked the Maiden.

“Vivian,” the Maiden laughed lightly. “One question, one answer.”

They have returned from the scene and Vivian stood before the Mother. “Next question: The Arcana. Where can I find it?”

It was the Mother who gave the answer: “It has been in the possession of a Demon in the shadows.”

She watched from the corner of the room as the man wearing a green cloak place the Arcana back on the shelf. She didn't need to see his face to know who he was. 

A frown etched to her mouth, “Ras al Ghul. Where is he now?”

They have returned to the crossroads. “One question, one answer!” The Mother reminded her.

“My last question then,” Vivian said. “How did Morgan le Fey lose her immortality?”

It was the Crone who stood before her and gave the answer: “Bold question, child.”

“My last question,” she told the Crone. 

The Crone looked at her for a moment and answered, “Promises left unkept tires the patient son.”

“Mordred,” Vivian watched as the blond boy stood in his castle. “How did he do it?”

“YOU HAVE ASKED YOUR QUESTIONS, ONEIDES!” The Fates flashed before her, merging their forms until they disappeared as if they never were there, and taking with them the gallows. 

Returning to where the three men stood Vivian was met by Batman's question: “Did they come?”

“Yes, they did,” she replied.

“We didn't see them, it was just you we saw the entire time. Did you get what you need?” Superman asked.

“I did. I got names. Leads,” Vivian took a breath. “There are two things we first need to find. The Alchemyst's Stone is close by, problem is it's in the possession of someone you won't like.”

“Who is it?” Batman asked.

“Lex Luthor.”

“I'm not even surprised. What else?”

“The Arcana. You won't like the answer for this — rather, I don't like the answer. It's with Ras al Ghul.”

Batman frowned.

“And I know who took Morgana's immortality. But first those two things,” Vivian turned to Superman. “I can't just take the Stone, Luthor needs to give it to me.”

“It just so happens,” Alfred spoke. “Mr. Luthor has an event tomorrow night. You might be able to sway him to give the Stone. Mr. Luthor has shown his fondness of Ms. Vivian – apologies for my implication, Ma'am.”

“Well, you are right about that, Alfred,” Vivian shrugged. “Even if it creeps me out.”

“It looks like we'll be attending Luthor's event tomorrow night after all,” Bruce muttered. “I don't like this. Not one bit.”

“Neither do I… we'll call you once we got everything, Clark,” Vivian said to the Kryptonian. “Tonight, Bruce and I are just going to visit Damian's grandfather… do you think he'd like to come along? I mean, Talia will be there too.”

“I think it would be nice… do you want to stay behind?” 

“No. I wanna look Talia in the eye, and besides, Ras al Ghul will wonder what you need it for.”

“I'll tell him it's an errand for my wife.”

“I'm still going. Last thing I need is Talia doing something — she might get a piece of your hair and make another kid with you using that.”

“I don't think that's how…” Clark trailed off.

“You get the point!”

~*~

Sitting in the back of the Batjet, Damian Wayne awkwardly watched as his father and his surrogate mother sat silently through the whole flight. This was the first time they were quiet in a long while. He knew it had to do with the fact they were visiting his grandfather and his mother, and normally Damian wouldn't care but when it comes to Batman and Vivian, it was concerning. 

“Tell me again, why do we need to see them?” Damian asked.

“That's how shared custody works,” Vivian muttered.

Bruce sighed. “There's a book we need to get. Vivian thought you might want to see your mother and your grandfather.”

“I see,” his gaze went to the back of Vivian's headrest where he could see locks of her auburn hair peeking at him. “I'll keep watch on Mother. Make sure she does not do anything she's not supposed to.”

At the front, Vivian smiled. Reaching out, Bruce took Vivian's hand and filled the gaps between her fingers. He leaned down a little to meet her hand to kiss. A simple gesture but it was enough to defuse the tension. It made Damian smile. 

Arriving at the Headquarters of the League of Assassins. Batman landed his jet at one of the bases of the mountain and the three of them entered Ras al Ghul's tower using Vivian's magic. No need to sneak through the many guards when they have a shortcut.

Stepping inside, Ras al Ghul did not mind them until he's poured himself a drink. “Detective, nice of you to let me see my grandson,” said Ras al Ghul. When he turned to see them, he faltered when he saw Vivian. “I was not expecting your wife.”

“Ras al Ghul,” Vivian greeted.

“Grandfather,” Damian stood before him. “Where is Mother?”

Ras looked at them for a moment and then called for his daughter. A moment later, the door opened and a woman with brown hair and green eyes came. The same green eyes as Damian. 

“Damian,” Talia said, quite surprised at their presence. “Beloved.”

Vivian frowned at what she called Bruce.

“Talia,” Bruce said, coldly.

Talia's gaze then turned to Vivian. “You're here.”

“Nice to see you too, Talia,” Vivian muttered. Turning to Damian, she pulled down his hood and brushed her hand through his hair. “Go to her,” she said with a soft tone.

Damian gave Vivian a soft gaze and squeezed the hand on his shoulder before coming to see his mother.

“What is this visit about?” Talia questioned. “Have you grown tired of seeing our son?”

“I've accepted Damian as one of my own,” Vivian said.

“But he is not. He is mine and Bruce's. He looks so much like him, doesn't he? Our perfect boy.”

“Talia,” Ras warned her. Surprising his daughter.

Vivian turned away from Talia and approached Ras al Ghul. “I need to speak to you.”

“Of course,” Ras al Ghul bowed slightly. “Follow me, Phoenix.” He led her to another door which was his study. Closing the door behind him, Ras al Ghul said, “You trust me so easily.”

“I don't,” Vivian said.

“Yet  you easily turn your back to me.”

Vivian turned to him with a smirk. “But you wouldn't dare now, wouldn't you? You know what I can do before you can even blink.”

Ras al Ghul chuckled. “You are learning the ways of your husband… or the ways of your second son.”

“It was Jason who learned from me.”

“He has always been close with you — when he was revived from the Pit, the first thing he looked for was you.”

Vivian touched the locket that rest on her chest. “Dick is my first son, but I didn't really feel like a mother until he grew up and moved out. With Dick, he's someone I can count on. Someone who was there since the very beginning. With Jason, I got to be that. I got to be a mother.”

“What brings the Hostess of the Creator of Life in my presence?”

“The Book of Arcana. I am in need of it.”

“And you cannot have it unless I give it willingly to you,” said Ras as he went to the shelf where he kept the book for so long. “Here,” he handed the book to her.

“That easy?” Vivian raised a brow at him.

“Yes.”

“I thought there'd be like a negotiation or something,” Vivian took the book from his hold. 

“I have memorized its content. I have no need of it. And I think taking in the son of your husband with my daughter is painful enough.”

Vivian frowned. “Like I said, Damian is mine, just as Dick, Jason, and Tim are mine.”

“But there is still the bitterness, yes?”

“Towards Talia? Yes. Damian? None,” Vivian hid the book in her coat. “Thank you for that, we'll be taking our leave now.”

Ras al Ghul nodded and lets Vivian leave the room. In the previous room, she saw Batman still standing where he was while Talia sat on the couch with Damian standing at her side. The two were speaking but ended when Damian saw Vivian and said, “Are you finished, Mom?”

“Mom?!” Talia sneered.

“Yes. Let's go!” Vivian smiled and had Damian under her arm. “Say goodbye to your Mother.”

“That was quick,” Batman said to her.

“Ras was cooperative today,” Vivian shrugged.

“Until next time, Beloved,” Talia told Bruce, and ignored Vivian.

Bruce glared at Talia and called for Damian so they can leave. The boy did not wait and jumped out of the window, then used his grappling to catch him. When it was their turn, Vivian was about to levitate her and Bruce but he told her to wait. About to ask, Bruce cut her off with a deep and passionate kiss. She was surprised at first but then a smile crept to her lips and kissed back. When Bruce wrapped his arms around her, she cupped his face and tried to pull away but Bruce followed her.

“Bruce,” she said between kisses. “She gets the point.”

“Are you still pissed?” He murmured against her lips.

She shook her head and kissed him once, “No. Not anymore. Let's go home, my love.”

Bruce kept his arms around her and jumped them off the tower where he used his grappling to land them safely where Robin was.

“What took you so long?” Damian demanded.

“I said goodbye to your mother,” Vivian shrugged.

He raised a brow at them. “And what did she say?”

“She'll see you at Christmas,” she patted Damian's cheek.

“Really?” Damian turned his back to them. “Next time, make sure to turn off your comms before doing something so disgusting, Father.” He marched towards the jet and went inside.

“Please don't tell me…” Vivian muttered.

“Yeah, we all heard it,” Oracle spoke through their comms, which Bruce put on speaker for her to hear. “Hi, Viv.” 

“Hi, Barbara… patrol night?”

“Patrol night. The boys have a lot to say…” She turned back their comms and then voices overlapping each other were heard.

“FUCKING KILL ME AGAIN!” Jason exclaimed.

“THE FUCK WAS THAT SOUND! AUGH! IT'S AAAHHH!” It was Tim.

“Hey, Babs, don't hold it against me if I don't kiss you anytime soon…” Dick said with a defeated sound.

“How's Cass?” Vivian asked, quite concerned.

“Quiet. Really quiet. Spoiler's with her trying to explain what was… she's trying to get her back to the land of the living,” said Barbara. “And if Duke is a little off for the next few days, you know the reason. Kate might tease you about it, so will Harper. But definitely Kate.”

“Thanks, Babs,” Vivian sighed. “Sorry…”

“We're going home. We'll be in Gotham in a couple of hours,” Batman told her.

“DON'T BOTHER COMING TO PATROL! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'LL DO IF I SEE YOU! AUGH!” Jason exclaimed.

“Understood.”

“You think you got it rough, Todd? I'm the one stuck with them for hours in this flight!” Damian called out in their comms.

“Copy… Batman, out.”

Bruce sighed, but still took Vivian's hand and helped her climb the jet. Once inside, Vivian turned to Damian and saw him in a deep shade of red as he tried to distract himself with his video game. 

“Did you have fun seeing your mother and grandfather?” Vivian asked him.

“Excuse me if I don't talk to either of you during this flight. I was traumatized by hearing the sound of my parents eating each other's faces in front of my biological Mother.”

“Right, again, sorry.”

~*~

It was hard getting out of bed to get ready for Luthor's event. Since he came home early from Wayne Enterprise, Bruce immediately went to Vivian's study where she spent the entire day reading through the Arcana and watching Morgan le Fey's movements with multiple mirrors, and pulled her away from everything. He promised her he'll only take her from her reading an hour max, but Bruce took his time and made his mark on her for hours on end. 

He knew Vivian would never look at another man, especially Lex Luthor, but remembering the first encounter she had with Lex – which was when they were still dating and he took her to one of Luthor's events as part of his cover to get intel — he didn't like how the man held Vivian in the dance while he snuck around the building to find Lex’s servers.

Just thinking about it had him lasting longer with anger fueling him more and more. It made him want to bite down hard enough to leave a mark but knew better than to do so. He'll have to restrain himself. Vivian joked as they made love earlier, “If you want him to know that I'm yours, well done. Because I don't think I'll be able to walk later if you keep going this pace, my love.”

Bruce realized that he was being too rough, which Vivian liked, but after hearing that his pace became steady and more loving.

Now, in their bedroom, Bruce finished fixing his tie and putting on his watch. As he placed his earpiece, he tested it to see if Vivian had hers on.

“Do you hear me, Viv?” Bruce asked.

“Loud and clear, Bruce,” Vivian said through their comms as she stepped out wearing her blue gown with the blue velvet, body hugging gown with the cape-like effect of the chiffon fabric that were attached to her lowered sleeves. “Can you hep me with these?” She showed him the diamond necklace.

“I don't recall giving you this,” Bruce said as he took his place behind her and helped clasping the necklace.

“You didn't. Luthor did.”

He frowned.

“It was his wedding gift.”

“I thought wedding gifts were for the couple?”

“You know how he is…” Taking his hands, Vivian placed them around her and she leaned back on his shoulder. “Just for tonight… besides, after earlier, I doubt I'd look at another man,” she teased him.

Bruce hummed in amusement. “I hate the fact you're dressing up for him.”

“We need the Stone, Bruce.”

“I know.”

“Besides, the diamonds may be for him, but this,” she led his hands from her waist and up to her crotch, purposely letting him linger there, then up to her chest where his hands brushed over where her nipples were, and then one of his hands to her neck. “All of this is for my husband.”

“He's a lucky man.”

“I'm the lucky one.”

“Trust me, Viv. I'm the lucky one,” Bruce kissed her cheek. 

“It'll take us a couple of hours to get to Metropolis if we're driving. We need to go.”

“Just an hour,” Bruce said. “Depends on traffic. We're taking the car and the yacht.”

“You know, I always forget that you got a yacht that can fit a car.”

“We have a yacht, Viv.”

Coming to the sitting room where everyone was mostly at the moment watching some show before heading down to the cave and start patrol, it was Cassandra who first noticed them and tugged on Stephanie’s shirt and pointed at their direction. 

“Wow, you’re looking good, Viv,” said Stephanie.

“Thanks, Steph,” Vivian smiled as she accepted the faux fur coat that Alfred prepared for her. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“So, this is what you wear for covert operations, huh?” Kate smirked, teasingly. “Not bad, Viv.”

“Not always.”

“Just when you need to seduce and trick Lex Luthor to giving you a magical stone that requires a hundred-soul sacrifice to work?” Tim added.

“Yes, that. The thing with the Stone is he needs to give it to me willingly. No tricks or influences of magic. Or else…”

“Consequences,” they finished.

“Where’s Dick and Jason?” Bruce asked.

“They’ll be here in a bit, they just went out to get some snacks,” said Duke.

“But you’ll be on patrol in a couple of hours,” Bruce checked his watch.

“Hey, come on! We still got a couple of hours to kill. Might as well do something that’s normal. You should be proud of us,” said Stephanie.

“Wrong parent, Steph,” said Tim.

“Right. Vivian’s the cool-one. Bruce is the… yeah, he’s Bruce.”

The sound of the front door opening caught their attention despite the sitting room being far from the entryway, but Dick does know how to make an entrance. “Sorry, I’m late!” Dick called out as he and Jason came in with a bag of snacks. “Got caught in traffic. Couldn’t leave Jason there, could I?”

“You can and you should have,” said Damian.

“What the fuck is this?” Jason said when he saw Vivian wearing the dress that was too revealing for her in his opinion. “Ma, cover up!”

“Jason, I am,” said Vivian.

“Those, cover up those!” Jason removed his jacket and was about to throw it over her but she caught the thing midair with magic and threw it back at him.

“No. It took me hours to get the hair done and my make-up, you are not going to ruin it.”

Jason threw his jacket away and turned to Bruce with a menacing look, telling him to do something. But all he got from the man was, “The only thing I don’t love is the necklace.”

“Why?” Duke asked.

Dick had a knowing smirk. “Because that’s a wedding gift from Lex Luthor – and before you ask, remember the time when you both went on your honeymoon and I was left here with Alfred to fix all the presents?”

“But they were all still wrapped when we got back.”

“I called in a favor from Superman – it was Alfred’s idea really, so we could find if there’s anything that needs to be refrigerated or stored properly because who knows when you two were coming back. And Clark saw that with the congratulations card signed by Luthor… he said some other things too but let’s stick with the congrats.”

“Been keeping that for a long time, haven’t you? Waiting for the right time to tell us?” Vivian walked up to Dick and pulled his ear teasingly.

“Not really. I was supposed to bring it to my grave, but I guess after a decade in the marriage it’s a good time to tell. You didn’t even notice the missing whipcream there… oh shit,” Dick’s face fell.

Vivian smirked. “Let me guess it was Veronica Vreeland who gave it, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let that sink in, kiddo,” Vivian patted his cheek.

A mix of “Eeew!” and laughter from the others.

“Excuse me as I throw away the whip cream I bought for tonight’s junk food night…” Dick said his goodbye to them and went to the kitchen.

Turning to Jason, Vivian sighed and faced him with a sympathetic smile. She pried his arms from how they folded over his chest and held his hands. “Thank you, for always looking after me, and I am glad that there is still a gentleman inside this,” she poked at his heart. “There are just some things I need to do to get the job done.”

Jason sighed and reached for his pocket and pulled out a stylish hairstick. “This was supposed to be for your birthday but you might need it tonight.”

“What is that?” Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian crowded over his shoulder to see.

“Get off me!” Jason told them and sighed once again. He went behind her and stuck it just where the pins were and was an eye-catching accessory with its sophisticated design of a snake. To Jason. “I found this in some warehouse from a man stealing some artifacts. It’s some old Nordic hairpiece. It’s made of bone, so it won’t sound an alarm. He tries anything, you stab him – don’t think just do.”

Smiling, Vivian reached out to Jason and brushed his cheek. “My sweet boy, always looking out for me. Thank you, Jason.”

“Yeah, yeah, and after doing the job — just cover up,” Jason muttered and looked away. “But you do look beautiful, Ma.”

“We better get going,” Bruce told her. “Kate, I’ll leave everyone to you, Dick, and Barbara.”

Kate saluted lazily.

“See you guys when you get back.”

“Alfred’s going too?” Damian asked.

“He’s the one whose going to bring home the yacht.”

Saying theri goodbye, Vivian and Bruce were about to leave the Manor when Damian called for them. The boy ran up to Vivian and wrapped his arms around her. 

“He does something to you, tell me. I’ll make him pay,” said Damian. “This is your first mission, Batman will understand if you accidentally stabbed Luthor at the neck.”

Bruce frowned.”Damian.”

“Right?” Damian glared at his father.

“It won’t come to that.”

“How lucky I am to have sons who are willing to gouge out someone’s eye to protect me,” she teased. She bent down and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Damian. We now need to go or else we’ll be late.”

Getting in the car which Alfred brought to the front, Vivian and Bruce got in the back and watched as their home grew distant from their gaze.

“We’ll be at the harbor shortly, Master Bruce. Traffic seems to be at our side,” said Alfred.

“Perfect, thanks, Alfred,” said Bruce.”

“And Ms. Vivian, there is something that I prepared for you under the seat. Master Bruce, if you please.”

Bruce reached down and pulled out the item. “Is this one of my taser darts?”

“Yes, and I fashioned it to look stylish for Ms. Vivian to wear. She will be doing this operation alone.”

“Aw, I feel touched that everyone is worried for me… how come you didn’t give me this when I had my other cases before?”

“With ghosts, and demons, and the creatures of the dark, you understand survival is necessary. You understand the nature of dark magic and the consequences it has. You follow your own code when in your element. But this time, this is not the darkness, here you follow the Batman’s code. Best to prepare tonight for something you are entirely new at. Not to mention you cannot use your magic.”

Vivian smiled. “Thank you, Alfred. This means a lot.” She slipped on the bracelet and turned to Bruce to say, “What’s next? Tim’s making me a mech suit and Damian’s giving me a sword?”

“I was thinking more of a uniform first to hide your identity,” said Bruce.

“Yeah… no. Not into the whole spandex and kevlar thing. I like my work clothes. It’s practical. Besides, John doesn’t have the cape and tights, so why should I? I’m a consultant, remember?”

Bruce chuckled. “I guess you’re right.”

The yacht ride to Metropolis was serene, and it would have been romantic if Diana have not called to inform them of Morgan le Fey’s movements. The sorceress was at it again and they still don’t have the stone. Good thing is, Vivian knew how to help Morgan le Fey regain her immortality, and who it was that took it from her. But she still did not say who. 

At Metropolis, Alfred drove the couple to New Troy, Metropolis where LexCorp headquarters was. Arriving at the venue, the butler commented how they were just right on time with how most of the people are now almost inside, giving the Waynes the spotlight they needed to capture Lex Luthor’s attention.

Thanking Alfred, Bruce opened the door and stepped out. He smiled and nodded at the press who were now turning their attention and their cameras at them, all calling for him to look at their direction. But Bruce ignored them as he reached inside the car to help Vivian out. More camera flashes came and Vivian forced a smile as she greeted them all with a wave. Bruce kept his hand on her back and acted as some sort of shield between her and the cameras, knowing how Vivian never liked walking down these carpets during events, while still giving her the spotlight she deserved.

Just as they expected, the crowd calling out “the Waynes are here!” caught the attention of many who were inside. There were those who came out to greet them and complimented the couple for their coordinated and stunning attire, and then there was Lex Luthor who met them halfway through the carpet and greeted them.

“Bruce Wayne,” Lex said first but didn’t offer a hand to shake, then he turned to Vivian. “Professor Vivian Pryor,” he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “A pleasure as always to see you again. Ah! I see you’re wearing my little gift.”

“I thought it would fit the occasion, this is a celebration of your new division opening. Congratulations for the successful start on Luthor Foundation for the Arts.”

“You know me, Viv, I’m a man of  many interests and arts is one of them,” Luthor said.

“Right.”

Luthor was about to invite her inside for some drinks but Mercy came and whispered to him that the event was about to start officially and he was to give his speech. “Excuse me, Viv, I need to go. Maybe right after I give my whole speech, I can show you what the Foundation is about, and who knows, you might be interested in working there too.”

“Poaching my wife while I’m right here, Luthor?” Bruce spoke. “You really have no shame.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Luthor shrugged and was already backing away to head back inside. “Come inside, there’s drinks, food, and the whole spiel abouf the plans for Luthor Foundation for the Arts, and something big!”

Luthor gone, Bruce made his hold on Vivian’s waist known to all as he leaned down and whispered to him, “The hand. Use Jason’s gift for the hand and Alfred’s token at his neck.”

Vivian chuckled, turning to him she placed a kiss on the side of his lips, making the press go wild and flash their cameras more. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s go, I’m kind of curious about what he’s unveiling.”

They entered the building and the noise of the press died down.

“Luthor is starting a division in Luthor Technologies that’s working on a top secret project. He’s hiring archivists around the world, and after that little attempt to get you to join Luthor Foundation of the Arts, he wants you – a renowned symbologist and iconologist – on his team.”

“What does Luthor Tech want archivists in there? A little odd don’t you think?” Vivian whispered.

“Take a guess.”

Vivian frowned. “Magic.”

Bruce nodded. “Looks like you have a new case coming up after this.”

“Looks like I do… and I have a feeling it has something to do with the Stone.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s wearing it right now,” Vivian watched the man of the hour on stage as he gave his spiel on LexCorp’s new projects. She didn’t care about what the man had to say at all, what she cared about was the brooch he wore. The red stone wrapped with a frame of gold. The Alchemyst’s Stone used a brooch.

A sacred and powerful magical item that was fought for, killed for, and passed on through generations until lost during World War II, was now being used as a brooch by someone like Lex Luthor.

“How about the neck with Jason’s gift and the balls with Alfred’s token?” Vivian said.

“Just make sure you’re a good shot to avoid major blood vessels, the spinal cord and airway, and aim for the part where there’s softer tissue.”

“Hold him down and I’ll find my mark.”

The main event ended with fireworks blasting in the skies. Vivian and Bruce were already at the bar by the time Luthor got down the stage, the former having her glass of chardonnay and the latter drinking his ginger ale. But whenever they ordered, Bruce would ask for the same drink as Vivian, and as Vivian takes the glass she does a little trick that transforms the chardonnay to ginger ale. 

“Don’t even think about making that joke in front of all these people,” Bruce told her as he saw the smirk on her face.

“What? That I performed a reverse miracle?” Vivian snickered.

Bruce chuckled but hid his smile behind the glass. “Funny.”

“This is taking too long,” said Vivian. “I’m going to speed things up.”

“How?”

“Sorry about the dress, but I promise I’ll fix it later,” Vivian timed it perfectly and did a little trick to have the walking server lose their balance a little and lose their hold on the tray of red wine, spilling all over her. Vivian let out a gasp of shock while Bruce jumped a little with the surprise.

“I am so sorry, Ma’am!” 

“It’s fine,” Vivian reassured them. 

“Please, let me take your coat — we’ll have it cleaned.”

“Vivian, are you alright?” Bruce asked her.

“I’m fine, Bruce, really. These things happen… too bad about the dress, though.”

“What’s going on here?” Luthor came to their little crowd. “What did you do?”

“Lex, please, it was just a mistake,” Vivian told him, hoping it would ease the heat on her victim. “These things happen.”

“We’ll take care of the bill with cleaning your dress, Mrs. Wayne,” said the manager of the server who arrived with Lex.

“That won’t be necessary,” said Vivian. “Please. I think I just need to clean up a bit.”

“Luckily for you, my penthouse is just at the top,” Luthor offered his arm to Vivian. “I’m sure Mercy can find something for you to change in, Viv.” When his secretary didn’t reply, he pressed on, “Right, Mercy?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll be sure to find Mrs. Wayne something that would suit for the evening,” said Mercy.

“Bruce, please excuse us. I’ll be sure to return your lovely wife before curfew,” said Luthor.

Bruce frowned but said, “Thank you. Viv, I’ll wait for you down here.”

Vivian nodded and accepted Luthor’s arm and followed him to the elevator which went straight to his private quarters. It was a long ride, and she was thankful for the glass walls that gave them a view of Metropolis.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Luthor began.

“It is,” said Vivian.

“But I’m sure Gotham is still your home.”

Vivian chuckled. “Well, I do live there, Lex.”

“Tell me, how did Bruce react when you wore that necklace?” 

They have arrived at his floor. The elevator doors opened and Vivian stepped out right after him. His personal floor at the top of his business. If Lex’s excuse is because he’s a workaholic, then that’s just a lie. Bruce was a workaholic but he doesn’t have a penthouse atop of Wayne Enterprise —

Wait. The Batcave was right under Wayne Manor. Their home.

But that’s a  secret place, no one knows about the cave but them and the Justice League.

“I had to convince him that it’s only right that I wore this tonight. I mean, this is your event after all,” Vivian said.

Luthor chuckled. “I don’t blame him. Even I would prefer if you only wore my gifts.”

Vivian turned to him with a knowing smile. “Is that right, Lex?”

“Yes. I’m sure Wayne is fuming right now, especially with you up here with me.”

“Flattery.”

“Well, you are a beautiful woman, Professor Pryor. Intelligent too.”

Vivian hummed in response. 

“I would give you all the jewelry there is just so you don’t wear cheap old things,” he nodded at Vivian’s brooch. Jason’s locket. 

Vivian frowned. “This was a gift from one of my sons for Mother’s Day. It was the first gift I got, and it was the first time I celebrated. It’s far more valuable than any jewel there is.”

She heard Bruce chuckle at Luthor’s mistake, then he said through their comms, “Easy, Viv. Not too hot, you want to get him comfortable to get the stone.”

“Right, Jason,” Luthor muttered.

Vivian took a breath. “Speaking of brooches,” she nodded at the one on his lapel. “If I’m correct, that's the Alchemyst’s Stone. The real one, I presume.”

“Of course,” Luthor said, slightly offended. “You know?”

“Yes. I’ve read about it. History believes it was Nicolas Flamel who made the Philosopher’s Stone – the stone that performs transmutations. Transforming rock to gold – that kind of thing. Some claim it’s imbued with magic from Flamel’s wife, Perenelle Flamel. She was presumed to be a witch, you know.”

“I’ve read that as well. So, who was it that made the Stone?”

“Perenelle. Using her magic, she made the stone, imbued it with her magic and kept them alive for centuries. Until it was stolen from them. It was found in the Vatican at some point. By then, it was believed to have been violated by dark magic,” Vivian leaned on the table to get a closer look on the Stone, not realizing she was showing a bit too much of her chest. Which Lex noticed. “If you look closer you can see the markings on the gold frame which was used to alter the use of the Stone to something beyond simple transmutation. There, those runes,” she pointed at the mark on the gold frame.

“Impressive as always, Vivian,” said Lex. “I was waiting for after the event to call you here to discuss an opportunity, but after that little lecture, I can’t just let you go without giving you a spiel of what’s really happening in LexCorp.”

“And that is?” Vivian asked. She had a guess it was the case Bruce mentioned to her earlier.

“Alexandria. In one of my travels,” really it was his dealings with the right people, “I have found a scroll that holds a secret to a different kind of energy. One that can remove all of these fossils. One powerful enough to light cities.”

And weapons.

“It’s written in another language that’s why I’ve set up a team to start researching the language but they came across some bumps on the road. There are symbols there that do not follow the language’s way of writing. The researchers have been using your books to help them read through them but there is just so much that second hand knowledge could do. That’s why I want to offer you a position at LexCorp as the Head of the Archivist Division. You will be leading a team to decode the scrolls and be part of something big.”

“Lex, your pitch sounds great but I can’t just… Wayne Enterprise is a direct competitor of LexCorp, you do know that, right?”

“You don’t work for Wayne.”

“I don’t. I’m married to him. I can’t just do that —”

Luthor scoffed. “Please.”

“Lex. No, I’m not going to do that to Bruce.”

“But you want this project, right? The curiosity to know what’s in those scrolls is eating you alive. Isn’t it. Wayne wouldn’t understand,” Luthor crept closer to her  until Vivian was trapped behind the table. “He’s not a researcher, he’s not a scientist. He’s just someone who has a Trust Fund.”

Vivian glared at him. 

“Kidding! Wow, you are a tough nut to crack, Vivian Pryor,” Luthor then removed his brooch. He looked at it for a moment and then held it to her.

“What is this? A bribe?” Vivian sneered.

“No. Take it. See it as a signing bonus.”

“I’m not signing anything, Luthor.”

“Fine. But take it for now, and if you don’t want to work with me then give it back.”

Vivian looked at the stone and saw the pulsing red within. “So, you want me to have this?”

“Yes. I bought this at an auction just to piss off someone who got in my way.”

Vivian felt the pulse of dark magic from the Stone.

Lex continued. “Besides, I’ve read about you, Viv. Your family. Took a long time digging, but did you know you came from a long, long, long line of witches?”

Vivian’s blood ran cold. “All women who were different then are branded as witches,” she told him.

“I would like to think that this would be more of use for you than it is with me.”

“Is that right? Because of my blood?”

“I’m almost to his floor,” Bruce spoke through their comms.

“Who knows, it might bring out the little bit of magic that resides in you. So, you may have it as a reminder of the proposal. It is yours,” Luthor shrugged.

The transfer was complete. Vivian could now feel the Stone. Accepting the token, Vivian thanked Lex and said she’ll think about it and –

He leaned down swiftly and placed a kiss on her lips —

“AAHHH!” Luthor fell crumbling to the ground, clutching his balls as he went to a fetal position. “You just – did you just tase my –”

The elevators opened and Bruce walked in. “What happened?” He asked her.

Vivian walked to the cabinet and opened a bottle of scotch. “He kissed me,” she answered as she didn’t bother to pour into a glass and gulped from the bottle itself to rinse her mouth and spit it out at the sink, then drank another gulp.

“He did what?!” Bruce marched up to Luthor and grabbed him by his collar. Luthor tried to reason with him, he lied that it was her who kissed him, that she came onto him, but it only fueled his anger more and Bruce punched the man across the face. Twice.

Walking to her husband’s side, Vivian caught his fist before he could land a third punch. “That’s enough, Bruce,” she whispered. “Mr. Luthor will be reminded about this. Please.”

The elevator came back again, this time it was Mercy and a couple of security guards. “Mr. Wayne!” Mercy gasped at the sight of Bruce’s fists and a bloody nose of Lex who was on the ground. 

“Your boss got a little touchy,” Vivian spoke. “Luckily my husband had a feeling to follow us up here. We’ll taking our leave and won’t be telling anyone, we wouldn’t want to ruin Mr. Luthor’s night.”

A threat.

Mercy nodded and moved to the side. “A gift from Mr. Luthor, Professor Pryor.”

“No need, he’s already given me one. And the answer is no, Lex. Not ever,” Vivian led her husband to the elevator, passing security on their way. Once the doors closed, Vivian took his hands and cleaned the blood off them with a napkin from her purse.

“Did you get it?” Bruce asked.

“I did,” Vivian answered. “You got blood on your shirt,” she clicked her tongue, but nothing too hard for her to fix. One brush of her thumb and it was gone. “There, good as new… Bruce.”

“He touched you.”

“And you’ve shown him what happens when he does. My love, please,” Vivian had her hand on his nape and pulled him down for a kiss. “Better?”

“I still want to kick him off the building and tie his ankle to his bed.”

She kissed him again and this time it was long enough to stop the fueling rage. The elevator doors opened and they were at the event hall once again. Vivian asked for her coat from one of the staff but before she could get it, Bruce placed his blazer over her and carried her coat in his arm. Exiting the building, the Waynes met with Alfred at the front who saw the mood on Bruce’s face and sighed. He had a feeling something happened in this little operation. 

They went straight to the harbor where Alfred drove the car into the yacht and then the yacht to the waters, but they did not go straight to the path back to Gotham. While waiting for Superman, Bruce and Vivian changed out of their gala attire and to the Bat uniform and the red cloak, respectively. When Clark appeared, they bid goodbye to Alfred and mentioned where they were headed.

“I heard the commotion all the way from home, when I heard the jet I came straight here. You got the Stone?” asked Superman.

Vivian showed the red Stone that shone in her hands. 

“I heard what happened with Luthor too. How are you?”

“I tased his balls,” Vivian shrugged.

“Oh. So, you’re good then.”

“Disgusted but satisfied… I never tased someone before. I did stab someone but never tased them.”

“Good to know you're alright, Viv,” He smiled at her, relieved. Turning to Batman, he told the man that the latest place Le Fey attacked was at Glastonbury and she has not moved from there since.

“I'll hold her down in that place,” Vivian summoned the seals and the image of Morgan le Fey who has yet to do something in Glastonbury.

“So, do I carry you both there?” Superman asked.

Batman gave him an incredulous look. “Viv.”

“On it,” Vivian summoned a portal. “Bulletproof Kryptonians first,” she said.

“Of course,” Superman sighed.

Stepping in, Superman disappeared from the yacht then Vivian and Bruce followed suit and were met by the chilly early morning of Glasbury. Looking at her Wayne Tech phone that Bruce customized to be secured, connected to his personal satellite, and has a button to call Batman immediately, Vivian saw it adjust immediately to five hours ahead as it detected the new timezone. It was three in the morning now. The witching hour.

“The Phoenix is here,” Morgan le Fey's voice echoed in the night. “Vivian Pryor.”

Before she stepped out to find the sorceress, Vivian summoned circle around the three of them. Finishing the incantation, the circle burned on the ground with ambers continuously glowing. “Do not step out of this circle unless it is completely necessary,” she told them. Then she got out. “Into the light, I command thee.”

The Phoenix's power took form with her, transforming her appearance to don its sacred robes while still wearing her maroon coat but this time the coat glowed with flames, as well as the runes that were engraved in its lining. Her eyes turned to gold and magical essence exhumed from where she stood. 

“New tricks, Pryor?” Morgana appeared before her wearing her gold mask and robes. “Last I saw you, you were just an amateur witch trying to understand the Phoenix's power.”

“Last time I saw you, you were making out with my boyfriend,” Vivian shrugged. “And I burned your hair for it.”

“How is John?” 

“He's John, he survives. So, you've been causing a bit of trouble,” Vivian conjured two seats and a small table with a bottle of wine from their collection. “So much trouble that the JLA was forced to outsource.” She gestured to the seat. When the sorceress did ont move, Vivian added, “Either we sit down and chat like two grown women or I just do the same thing I did to you before.”

Morgan le Fey sat on the seat and took the glass of wine. “Turning on your own now, Pryor?”

“No. They know how I operate,” Vivian took a sip of wine. “I'll just be fixing whatever this is and then once I'm done, I'll give you a thirty-minute headstart before the big-S comes flying after you.”

Morgan le Fey chuckled. “Is that so? You will fix my problem and let me go?”

“If I give you up to the Justice League, every sorcerer, witch, mage, warlock, vampire, and magical and divine and damned being will go after me. The JLA understands my conditions and they will abide by it.”

“Then why is Superman and Batman here?” Morgan le Fey nodded at the two men far from where they were.

“Come on, Morg,” Vivian poured her another. “You know thirty-minutes is more than enough for you to head off your merry way. Superman is just here to even out the playing field.

“Like he can keep up.”

“You'll be surprised.”

“And Batman?”

“He's just nosy.”

She heard Bruce's disgruntled hum in their comms.

“Continuing the talks, Vivian said, “Soul sucking for immortality. You're not a demon, Morgana.”

“Aren't I?” Morgan le Fay cocked her head to the side.

“Well, I hope you're not. I mean, you're no Enchantress — she, I expect the soul succing. She is a succubus afterall, but you… what did Mordred do? I need to know so I can get you back your immortality and so you can stop all this.”

“My son has grown impatient. If there is a monster you seek, it is him not me… he has taken my power to take Camelot.”

“Camelot is gone.”

“He plans to take its place and build a new one, and rule the kingdom from there.”

“Caerleon then,” Vivian said. “Why does he need you out of the way?” Morgan le Fey raised her hand and showed to her the amount of magic left. “He has taken your magic and immortality.”

“He made a deal with those below. A tool that would grant him the power he needs to create his new world. His New Camelot.”

“Dealing with demons comes with a price… he knows better. There's always a catch.”

“But like you said, my child has grown impatient for his birthright.”

“One that's supposed to be expired by now considering Camelot was way back in the 6th century,” Vivian sighed. “Alright, I got what I need — and they got what they need,” she got up and stretched. “Batman, have Wonder Woman and Zatanna see Caerleon, they'll find Mordred there.”

“No!” Morgan le Fey got up. She was about to cast her magic to stop Batman but nothing. She was not able to do anything at all. “What did you do?”

“Binding spell. The wine,” Vivian nodded at Morgana's glass. 

Le Fey threw the glass to the ground after seeing the micro-carvings on the neck.

“Mordred will be dealt with accordingly. Don't worry, they'll return him to his mother… I can't say unharmed but he'll be back in your arms again. But the Justice League needs to deal with him first, and I need to finish my work.” 

Reaching into her coat, Vivian pulled out the demon-blood infused Stone and the Book of Arcana. “I keep my promises, Morgana. You’ll get your immortality back.” She let the book float beside her and open at the page she needed. “This can go two ways. I release this and you fly to your son with little power you have and die before you get there with your speeding age or we stay here, I return your immortality and the JLA stops him and brings him here. The clock is ticking, Morgana, with the amount of souls you’ve been taking, I say everyday your mortality is catching up on you. Even now I can see it.”

Morgan le Fey fell silent as she pondered.

“You can learn magic again but you can't do that when you're being used as petrol for my car.”

Morgan le Fey glared at her. Removing her mask, the sorceress finally revealed her aging face. With the robes she wore, Vivian couldn't see the fast deterioration but now she knew this was urgent. Any moment now the sorceress can literally turn to ash before her.

“Good,” Vivian helped the sorceress to sit and be comfortable on the leather chair. “Superman will come back with your son.”

Clark took that as a sign to leave and fly to Caerleon where Diana and Zatanna would be waiting. 

Vivian then held the Stone before Morgana and began the spell. Using her own glass, Vivian poured the demon's blood into the wine inside, with her hand holding the Stone she is powering with her magic, she cast the incantation, “Htiw siht puc, I nruter ot ym s'rotsac ega, I peek htaed ta yab.”

Flames danced in the wine's red color and died instantly.

“Drink and you won't turn to ash,” Vivian said and helped the old sorceress to take the glass. Drinking slowly until her body began to revert back to her old and youthful self. No longer was Morgan le Fay and crone, she was now back to her youthful self, just around Vivian's age now.

Finished with the incantation and the wine gone, Vivian conjured a mirror and showed the woman her face again. 

“You couldn't have made me younger?” said Morgana.

Vivian smirked. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” Snapping her fingers, the chairs, the table, the wine and glasses were gone. 

“Why help me, Pryor?” Morgana asked.

“I told you, the JLA asked me to intervene, and this is me intervening.”

“You could have killed me. That would be easier. Just like what you did with Mammon.”

“I erased him from existence. I kill him he’ll just come back up here.”

“Same question.”

“Survival has always been our way… who am I to judge a witch who has done so much to survive this world and give a life to her son. Despite the wrong things you have done and the obsession on taking back a kingdom that is far gone now, this has always been how we survived. We take.”

“Maybe back then, but this time you give.”

Vivian smiled. “Blame my husband, he has a way of rubbing off on people…”

“Bruce Wayne. Does he know?”

“Yes. He does.”

“And he does not mind?”

“No. And I want to do the same thing he does with the amount of power and wealth I have. He has Gotham as his project, maybe I can start here.”

Morgana scoffed. “A fool's dream. Dark magic is done with sinister deeds, Vivian. It cannot be stopped.”

“I know. Like you said, a fool's dream. But maybe with this you won't do something that would bother this realm for a while? Maybe spend the time to recover and ger your magic again?”

Morgana looked at her for a moment. “Fine. But that does not stop me from taking back our kingdom.”

“A century of peace is more than enough. Oh, look, your son's here.”

Floating down, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Zatanna came to where they stood and where Batman met them with Mordred beaten. The man still wore his dark armor and had a few injuries that needed mending.

“Your first project,” Vivian told Morgana. “Your son needs you.”

Morgan le Fey sighed and approached Mordred. She took him from Wonder Woman's hold and said, “We had a deal.”

Wonder Woman glared at her and released Mordred, letting Morgana take him. The Sorceress held her son in her arms and took one last look at Vivian's way before disappearing using the little magic she had left.

“Where did she go?” Wonder Woman asked Vivian.

“Diana,” Batman warned her. “She's abided with the terms, Morgan le Fey won't harm anyone while she regains her magic and helps her son. Peacetalks were established.”

“She will come back.”

“And when she does I'll deal with it. Then it will be on equal grounds,” Vivian said. “Let her recover and let her save her son. Besides, the JLA has something more important to deal with involving Luthor now anyway. I'll leave you to talk about it, right now I’m going home.”

“Back to the darkness, I command thee.”

The Phoenix form disappeared and Vivian was back to her normal appearance and was strolling towards the lamp post. “I'll stop by at my Father's before heading home! See you then, love!”

“Vivian,” Batman caught her arm before she teleported away.

“What?” 

“You did good.”

Smiling, Vivian got on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Alfred said that I have my own code. And I do, but there are times when I also want to help out people in need.”

“Is that so?”

“My husband has a way of influencing people around him.”

Batman smiled softly.

“But I can't say with those vampires that we encountered, and the ones you saw in the club.”

“You can't kill what's already dead.”

Vivian had a lopsided grin, “I'll see you at home. Try to ease Wonder Woman to not hating me for letting Morgana go.”

“I will. See you at home, love.”

Stepping back, Vivian waved goodbye and teleported away and appeared at her father's gym where he was currently sleeping for some reason.

“Come on, Dad,” Vivian woke him.

“Vee, what are you doin’ here, love?” Adam woke up, still groggy.

“I had a consultation in the area and I wanted to see you. Let's get you home, okay?”

Adam nodded and followed his daughter to the portal she opened and helps him lay down in bed. 

~*~

Back in Gotham, Vivian was having a nice cup of tea at the garden with Damian when Bruce appeared with a surprise.

“What is this?” Vivian asked as she held up the black card with the Justice League logo at the middle. Flipping it over, she was met by an ID and Watchtower security access. It had the name The Phoenix over what she calls a mug-shot but with her face. Her base of operation, which is Gotham, with Universal access. And power level which is ranked Unknown. Then at the bottom was the word Consultant.

“No more going through the whole security system of the Watchtower,” said Bruce. “Also, did  you do something with your photos? Flash said that they were seeing different people whenever they developed the card.”

Vivian smirked. “I don't do masks, but the runes of my coat has a glamor that hides my identity. If anyone takes a photo of me or sees me, they won't know it's me unless I let you know it's me.”

A chuckle left Bruce's lips, “And when were you going to tell me that?”

“I thought you figured it out by now,” Vivian returned to her reading. “So do I get to add that in my CV? Consultant for the Justice League, my references are Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman.”

“I'll give a good recommendation. But I'll put up a good fight to keep you from getting poached by other organizations.”

“Like the Titans?”

“What do you mean?” Bruce turned to Damian in question.

“Dick reached out to me to ask for help with Raven. He said if I was consulting for the Justice League, I should also consult for the Titans. I believe you remember her? Daughter of Trigon.”

“It was my idea,” said Damian. “Grayson should put his story straight.”

“I know and I'm proud that you're looking out for your teammates.”

“So, the Titans have poached you already.”

“Just for a consultation. You know, I should start putting fees.”

“No.”

“Kidding!”

[harmonic-melodii]

Writerly Questionnaire

Thanks, @davycoquette, It's time for me to drop some more lore about myself! My answers will most likely end up longwinded. And here's a link to the original post too for the questions if you'd like to fill them out yourself! Link

About You

When did you start writing?

I started writing around 2016, so when I was about 12 years old. I was already an avid reader and devoured every single book I came across. Back then my stories were much more fantastical, but the passion never died.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

I will never write Historical Fiction despite it being one of my favorite genres to read. Books that delve into alternative history or simple romance stories that take place around historic events have always held a special place in my heart. Why will I never write in that genre? Because I'm not built for the research that goes into creating those settings.

I also enjoy the occasional romance novel, though I don't write romance-specific stories. The lightheartedness is a much-needed break from the gritty stories and concepts I write. At most I include romantic subplots in some things, but I don't like focusing on romance as a plot.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

Not for my fantasy works. For sci-fi, I would like to emulate Ray Bradbury. I've always loved his books and short stories. And how he wrote about the human condition and its interactions with technology for better and worse. Though I cannot say I have written anything as profound yet.

As for poetry, I'm heavily inspired by many African-American poets like Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou. As a young black woman myself, I hold a lot of respect for similar artists in my discipline that came before me. And while my poems are inspired by my experiences and struggles with race, I believe they can bridge gaps of understanding.

Overall, I have never been compared to any authors.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

My writing spaces are as chaotic and fluid as me. Sometimes I will be sitting at my desk with a water bottle and typing on my computer. Other times I'll lie in bed at 2 am typing furiously into my notes app. Hell, I have a tiny spiral notebook that's a bunch of index cards with entire plots and character profiles. I write wherever and whenever I can.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Music. I create countless playlists, some of which I'll share soon. I probably have over 70 total. Not all for my WIP or other characters that exist, but all of them are for writing in some form or another. Otherwise, I try to regularly consume new media. That is a lot harder because it takes so much energy for me to engage with new content, but when it works it works.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Not necessarily. Very little of my inspiration comes from the beach town I grew up in. Rather I'm influenced by places where I've endured insane life trauma. Don't worry, there's no trauma dumping here. I want to write about those places because it allows me to visit them again safely and on my own terms.

As for people, yes a handful of my characters are inspired by people I've met. Some are not the best. But hey, it makes for decent inspiration.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

I feel like I always gravitate towards writing about religion in some form or another. I was raised Christian myself and currently identify as Agonistic. I like deconstructing faith and what it means to believe in something greater than yourself. So it doesn't entirely surprise me that I circle back to religion in one way or another.

I also write a lot about family dynamics and the platonic love or lack thereof within those dynamics. And about the limits of love and what is considered "too much".

Your Characters

Me? Talking about the lesbians in my novel?? Yep!

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Hands down my favorite character in the cast is Aaliyah. She's the main protagonist. An optimistic college freshman, who has an intense thirst for knowledge. She was raised by her father, Ezra, all on his own. Ever since she could remember it's only been the two of them. She's funny, sweet, but very sheltered at the end of the day.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

I think I'd be decent friends with Graham. She's a guitarist in a rock band. A little rough around the edges, but I'd love to hear the music she plays.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

It'd probably be Ezra. He's a strict man and quite judgmental of people. If anything he'd dislike me first and I'd simply have to fire back on principle.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

In general, all of my characters start as an idea or concept. For example: Graham came to fruition because I thought it'd be funny for the man who oversees campus safety at this small college to have a rebellious daughter. Then slowly, I add more details about who she is as a person. I ask "why?" questions all of the time. Once I have a solid idea of who they are, I connect them to other characters. Sometimes relationships come before the solid idea and they help.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

I write so many lgbtq+ and people of color. I genuinely don't think I have many cishet white characters. Because if they're not straight, then they're bisexual, lesbian, or asexual. I write a handful of trans people (Graham my darling beloved is trans). And I don't write a ton of white people because I enjoy writing things that represent me and my communities.

When it comes to this specific unnamed WIP the characters share themes of guilt, love, and rebellion. Which is what creates the perfect storm of the plot they find themselves in.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I use picrews to imagine what my characters look like. I don't draw and I prefer the blank canvas I get with avatar creators. It's very freeing.

Your Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

I write to share my thoughts and feelings. My opinions will be heard one way or another.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Honestly, most comments are motivating enough. Just the idea that someone looked at my work and felt compelled to write something about it is enough for me.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Character building and writing tension. I feel both go hand in hand when you're writing scenes. The stronger the character the better potential for a tangible relationship between the two.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Professors have complimented me on tension and character-building. I've been told I have the ability to really dig things out.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

It's fun and cool. Best hobby ever!

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Definitely. In fact, I'd probably write in obscure and weird places. Like I'd get paint and write lines of poetry on the street. Things like that. All of my writing doesn't need to be read, I just like getting it out of my head.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

As someone who has also written fanfiction, I don't care what other people enjoy. I write for myself first and foremost. Because for every single person who doesn't like my writing, I know there's at least a handful of people who love it. If I focused on what people enjoyed reading I simply wouldn't be writing my WIP novel.

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Tag list time !

@sodaliteskull @honeybewrites @cowboybrunch @writeblragenda

+ Open tag to anyone else who wants to participate!

[bibliophileiz]

I just finished a book called The Queens of Animation by Nathalia Holt, about women animators at the Walt Disney Studio. I cannot believe the shit I found out.

(Hopefully I got this all correct, I was listening to an audiobook instead of reading a hard copy, so I can't consult it for name spellings and the like. I'm relying on Google, and well, we know how that goes sometimes.)

Some things I learned from this book. -Walt Disney became a personal champion of women in the animation department, arguing not just that they were as talented as men but that they could bring something to storytelling that men could not. After his death, the number of women in the animation and story departments plummeted, along with the animation department itself. -But he also paid women way less. (Except Mary Blair.)

Not just women, but many animators had a hard time getting on-screen credit for their work. This was one of the issues that led to a massive strike in 1941 that tore the department in two, temporarily shut down the studio, and resulted in a lot of people, both union and non-union, losing their jobs when it finally reopened.

On the rare occasion women did get credit, they were sometimes ignored by reviewers.

The second woman to be hired to the animation department, Grace Huntington, was a pilot who held multiple speed and altitude records. She eventually quit the studio with the hopes of getting a full time aviation job, but died young of TB before her career could take off.

Traditional animation is apparently a terrible way to make money. Only a handful of the early animated feature-length films made more at the box office than it took to make them.

Women animators were drawing things for The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast as early as the 1930s.

Men thought drawing fairies was unmanly, so the fairy sequence set to Nutcracker music in Fantasia was drawn and directed entirely by women.

While the women animators were doing that, the men drew super gross racist and sexist centaurs to Beethoven music, and the reviewers all hated it. (Essentially they were like HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO BEETHOVEN.) - Generally, male animators tended to like slapstick comedy in their cartoons, while women tended to be more about storytelling and character development.

Obviously there were exceptions to that rule, like Walt Disney and Mark Davis.

Disney hired an LSU professor to write Song of the South. When everyone pointed out to him this was a terrible idea, he hired a Communist Jew from New York as co-writer for "balance."

This went about as well as you'd expect.

When the LSU professor demanded his co-writer get taken off the script, Disney replaced him with another "progressive" white guy.

Apparently he never considered hiring an African-American writer.

Literally everyone, including the studio's legal team, told him not to make this movie, much less hire a white guy from Baton Rouge to write it.

The lead actor James Baskett, who won an Honorary Academy Award for the role, couldn't go to the premiere because it was held in Atlanta.

Meanwhile, the Communist got put on Cinderella. He interpreted the story as a worker rising up against her oppressors.

This is also known as the correct way to interpret Cinderella.

Apparently the writer (so sorry, I'm forgetting his name) included a "violent" scene in which Cinderella goes after her stepmother and stepsisters.

I have no more details than that, but apparently the other animators made him take it out.

I'm now just picturing Cinderella stalking around her house with a raised butcher knife in her hand like in "Psycho."

Artist Mary Blair was art director for many of the classic Disney movies, including Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland. Disney loved her work so much that when she had to move to Long Island for her husband's job, Disney let her work remotely and fly back and forth from New York to Los Angeles.

She was responsible for the rich colors and design choices in the princess movies. She resigned part way through "Sleeping Beauty" but the art director after her used her designs for Maleficent.

Her husband, Lee Blair, was also an animator for the studio before he left to fight in World War II. He was apparently extremely jealous of Mary's artistic talent, and when he returned from Europe, he moved the family to Long Island, became an alcoholic, and started abusing her and later their children. Mary didn't feel she could go to Walt, or any of her other friends at the studio like Retta Scott and Mark and Alice Davis, because domestic violence and divorce were so taboo back then.

Even after the move, Disney let her work remotely, and she spent a lot of time flying between New York and Los Angeles. She eventually resigned hoping to work on her marriage (this didn't really work, though her husband did eventually start going to AA meetings after spending a year in jail for drunk driving) but was later rehired to help design the It's A Small World ride.

Everyone who worked on that ride hated the song btw.

The men apparently got over the idea of drawing fairies making their balls fall off or something by the time they were making Peter Pan, but one of them still asked why Tinker Bell "had to be so naughty".

101 Dalmations was the first animated film to be made using Xerox technology, which decimated the studio's female-dominated ink and paint department (their job was to trace over the animators' work). The Xerox machines could only make black and white at first, which is why so much of that movie is so colorless compared to the earlier Disney films Mary Blair worked on.

The silver lining was everyone got to play with puppies while they were making it because Disney ordered a whole bunch of them to just be there in the studio for the animators to draw.

Speaking of cute animals, the Burbank lot was home to a bunch of stray cats. Disney liked them being there because they hunted mice, so he didn't like when employees fed them.

Disney hated 101 Dalmations, because of the Xerox machines, but it made more of a profit than any of his previous films, because of the Xerox machines.

Julie Andrews originally turned down the role of Mary Poppins because she was pregnant, and Disney promised to wait on her. (Joss Whedon, take notes.)

After Walt died of lung cancer, the animation department was nearly killed and pretty much stopped hiring women. Mary Blair, who had been almost as influential to Disney's art as Walt, was edged out and by the time new animators started working on the Disney Renaissance films, they didn't even know who she was.

Many of the women who left the studio went on to work for Little Golden Books and other children's book publishing companies.

One of the few women animators at the company at this time, Heidi Guedel, who drew Tigger, left with Don Bluth when he departed to form his own company in 1979.

When The Little Mermaid was in production, there was only one woman animator--she may have been the only woman in the entire story department, I don't remember.

Disney then began hiring more women animators at the directive of then-Disney CEO Mike Eisner and head of animation Jeffrey Katzenberg.

One of the women screenwriters working on Beauty and the Beast (I think Linda Woolverton, but it may have been Brenda Chapman) wrote a scene in which Belle puts pins on a map showing where all she hopes to travel.

The animators changed the scene in the storyboards so that Belle is in the kitchen making a cake instead. When the screenwriter saw it, she apparently raged BELLE DOES NOT MAKE CAKES!

Pixar at this time had no women in its animation department.

Brenda Chapman became the first woman to win an Academy Award for Best Animated Feature Film for Brave. During her acceptance speech, she talked about her daughter Emma.

When making Frozen, Disney held a "sister summit" of women discussing their relationships with their sisters and other women. Men at the summit were not allowed to speak.

btw Brenda Chapman also worked on The Prince of Egypt. (I did not learn this from the book, I learned it just now while looking her up on imdb.)

If I have had a very bad day, and am very tired, then the mere mention of Howard Ashman's name will make me break down in tears.

[thepachy]

Random list of events that led Eric to drown in his own insanity and linked to his obsession with the Seeds

Killing Cole

His "friend" who ended up being his sacrifice in the manipulative game Jacob made specially designed for him. His first murder and first crucified sinner, years before he started his movement. The night When everyone discovered that their supposed friend was just a liar from the cult and broke all trust

He had no one but his new family and only them could protect him

Discovering the true about the ArtistS

What an amazing thing when you discover that your parental figure, the man who gave you a purpose, protection and everything you ever wanted and needed, who made you think you were some gift from God, that you were special and unique but that it never really was the case. It’s true it hurt when he discovered why the artist rules existed and why he wasn’t supposed to be drugged or even passing Jacob’s trials. Frederic, that was the name of the first one. A poor man that after discovering how insane John was, got shot while trying to run away. Then Clarissa. A beautiful woman ready to do anything for Joseph, but of course it made an older Faith jealous and after some advices to make her feel less bad about what she saw, the bliss consumed her mind into becoming an angel.

He wasn’t special. And if he didn’t followed orders he could be replaced. Was that the feeling that some Faiths felt before disappearing ?

His growing obsession

He became obsessed by the Seed siblings. What they did, how they acted, they’re tattoos and scars. Everything was in his sketchbooks. They truly were his muses. All of them but the most surprising was The Soldier. This man could be seen as the worst in some ways and Eric was against most of the things he did. Living in his region was horrible and almost sickening. All this violence and blood. This wasn’t for him but still, he found something fascinating in that man. Him, his story and all his scars… all those scars he grew to know the exact number and position. He was fascinated… obsessively. Stockholm syndrome ? Who cares. He saw something in him or at least he thought. He tried his best to climb those walls the man had built for decades till one day… he saw a crack. This night, he saw the man being himself. The sad facade he desperately tried to hide behind his harsh self. He found it interesting and felt like he weirdly had to protect him. He continued to stay near him. Even more than before. After a long time, the man accepted his presence and sometimes even ordered him to stay near. Why would the strongest want to keep this weak pet around ? They sure had a weird bond but no one dared to question it

The explosion

Sure it wasn’t a big event and it happened pretty late in the story but ending up between a fight and bliss barrels catching fire and projecting him in the lake was enough to shake his brain and burn some skin. Even the Soldier got worried

Now following the fcnd canon leading to the Stag

The death of his partner the Soldier

They saw this day coming but he still feared it more than the collapse. He knew it will happen after hearing the news. He passed hours crying at his legs, begging for him to breathe again after handing him his dog tags. But nothing happened. The man was gone. His protector was gone. What will he do now ? How will he survive ? How this ? How that ?… they had to drag him back to the center where he passed few days going insane. So many feelings storming in his head. Sadness and anger. This growing rage towards the man that promised to protect them all but ended up letting his siblings die one by one. He confronted him few days before the collapse but he was just incoherent

The bunker

Then it happened. The day they all were waiting for. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Was there other people with him to spend those years or was he alone ? He didn’t knew.? Maybe he ate them like his brain was eating his cells to survive or how his broken feelings were eating his soul. Only the silence of his voice, maybe theirs too. Sometimes the radio cracked or maybe it was only an illusion and his mind tricked him jus like his ? Who knows. This rage and sadness only grew by the years, consuming his self till not remembering how was the world outside or even the face of the one he knew every detail of. His mind was just cracking day after day, month after month he forgot who he was and years after years his mind shattered. He became an animal trapped in those walls under the surface. If one day he would escape this cage, he would hunt and wander like a lost animal without real purpose.

The artist died without any masterpiece and the deer became the Stag

[nothingtherefornow]

To people saying Chloe and Lila would be hated if they werent white, as a POC woman I can say this. No. They’d still get people stanning them purely for skin color. Because in the minds of some people, if any writes a POC as anything other than a pure innocent angel they are RACIST.

Why do people like defending rotten wicked characters so much to the point of staning or excusing those character's evil actions and behavior ?

I know that nuanced villains are trendy right now, the kind of antagonist whose evil stems from a traumatic past, or whose intentions are noble but their methods immorals. And it's true that the writing of those kinds of characters is captivating to follow it's well written.

But sometimes, a character that is inherently evil in nature without any valid reason is also entertaining to follow. Lots of Disney villains for example, like Jafar, Scar, the first version of Maleficient, Dr Facilier, Frollo, Mother Gothel, etc... really embody a form of pure evil with no undertone of good in them, and yet we love them anyway without making excuses for their bad deeds all the time

Even if Chloe's behavior can be explained by having an abusive mother, Chloe is a character who, between seasons 4 and 5, embraced his evil nature and joy in hurting others.

She still had a chance to change and follow the right path between seasons 2 and 3, but between heroism and evil, Chloe has chosen evil, because deep down her selfishness and her ego are the dominant aspects of her personality.

In Chloe's head since being a hero didn't get her what she wanted, she would get it by becoming a villain, from then on Chloe is an antagonist, and we should appreciate her as such instead of trying to pass her off as the misunderstood anti-heroine that she is not

And wathever Lila's past is, she's going to far for her actions to be justified or easilly forgiven.

Lila is literally willing to help a dangerous villain terrorizing all of Paris and willing to help him endanger people just to get her petty revenge against those who barelly offended her. the one who could eventually truly warrant her hatred is Gabriel after Revelation, and yet

SPOILERS WARNING

It seems Lila will only content herself with seizing all of Gabriel's secrets and stealing his miraculous, while Marinette was once again be the victim and the scapegoat of Lila's rage and frustration in Revelation and Confrontation.

And not just Marinette, in Confrontation, Lila's plan involves also ruining the academic, even professional future of her classmates who have always been kind to her, and believed and supported her all this time. And yet she still planned to stab them like that just to put it all on Marinette's ? Or whas it because Lila actually takes a liking to the idea of ​​ruining innocent people's life. What can possibly justify such a despicable act? I tell you : NOTHING !!!

And finally, Lila isn't an harmless con artist, she is one fooling many women into thinking she is their daugther (which is emotionally abusive and neglectfull to those poor women), and attending two school at the same times under two different identities (thus excessively abusing the trust of her classmates, teachers and school mates). This is going to far just to get attention and affection

END OF SPOILER WARNING

Lila just seems to really craves the same thing that Chloé herself enjoys, crushing people's dreams and lives just because she can

From a moral point of view, Marinette absolutely does not deserve all the shit Lila inflicts on her, the hatred that Lila feels towards the two alter egos of Maribug is more gratuitous than justified. It is not just about a girl that Lila sees as a threat because she knows hier lies, Lila actually seems to be acting out of pure envy, jealousy, and desire to hurt when Marinette is concerned.

No matter what Lila's past and true attentions are, it doesn't justify nor excuse the real harm she does around her, and the same applies to Chloé as well. Because before they got exposed, Lila and Chloé weren't alone, they had people who guenuinly loved them and cared for them, they could have stopped and satisfied themselves with what they already had, which was already a lot. But they didn't.

Lila and Chloé don't necessarily want love nor affection that much, what they crave the most fame, popularity, attention and power more than anything else, and they are willing to do everything to get what they want, they are willing to become villains and hurt people for that. Character like that are not misunderstood victims, they are real bad and toxic people that you wouldn't want to forgive if you were victim of their worst misdeeds

[crystallinearts]

so hey guys, I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year! if you want, come be writing buddies with me! https://nanowrimo.org/participants/aj-strong

and check out my latest project, which I'm hoping will be my first published novel (if I'm able to publish it for people to read for free somewhere uwu), The Lovely Disaster Sideshow! It's a mystery, horror, adventure, historical, weird mishmash that takes place in a Victorian Era circus!

Here's the cover, and below the cut are some bullet-point details about the main characters!! Let me know what you think so far, and... well, get ready for me to do very little else throughout November XD

ABIGAIL HUGHES AND EULALIA "LALI" HUGHES

Mother and daughter protagonists

Abigail (late 20s) is missing a hand and Lali (6 years old) is unable to speak due to trauma (Abigail’s missing hand and Lali’s trauma are both from the accident which killed Abigail’s husband)

They fill the jobs of whatever needs done within the circus after joining; cooking, mending, running errands

Abigail occasionally performs with Bharata after he teaches her tricks on how to live without one hand

Lali enjoys working with Estelle and Cedar particularly, but the entire circus is protective of her as their youngest member

Native English

RINGMASTER

The circus ringleader, the master of ceremonies who runs shows and hires new workers

A friendly fellow (late 30s-early 40s) who welcomes anyone into the circus, regardless of disabilities or age, as long as they can work in some way or another

Creative in describing the sideshows to attract the attention of the public

In reality a cold, calculating bigot who is bitter toward, resentful of, and disgusted by the ‘freaks’ he employs in the circus

Native English

GWYNN

“The Eyeless Albino” visual oddity (pure white hair, no eyes)

A young man (early 20s) who is completely albino and was born without any eyes

He is entirely blind and relies on other people (most often Bharata and Siobhan) to help him around, though he’s learned to navigate most of the circus by sound as long as he has landmarks to go by; new areas confuse him until he learns the layout

His skin burns incredibly easily, meaning he often carries a parasol to block sun rays even when it’s cloudy

(His parasol also double functions as a makeshift cane) Welsh and a little English

SIOBHAN

“A Marvelous Mouth” sword swallower and fire breather

A young woman (early 30s) who is a former prostitute, leading the Ringmaster to capitalize on her relaxed gag reflex to make her into a sword swallower (and, occasionally when the shows need that extra oomph, fire breather)

Quite heavily tattooed, at least for the time period, she sports many tattoos on her arms, legs, back, and hands, as well as one on her neck; this causes many people to view her as a degenerate and adds to her ‘freakishness’ for the circus

Irish

CAIN AND ABEL

“Two-For-One Twins” visual oddity (conjoined twins)

Two young men (mid 20s) joined at the hip, they’re unable to be separated and sometimes have issues with moving around; they have separate bodies (two arms each, two legs each, separate torsos, separate heads, etc.) but their bodies are fused at the hip and doctors have all told them separation is too risky

They get along fairly well, with the occasional sibling fights, though they feel isolated even from the rest of the circus, stemming from only having had each other for most of their lives, especially given that they were the most recent additions before Abigail and Lali

Native English

ESTELLE

“Silent Angel” trapeze artist

A young woman (early 20s) who is almost entirely deaf and can only hear (barely) if someone is shouting right next to her ear, she cannot speak very well and prefers to communicate in other ways

She can’t read or write, but she’s made up her own variety of gestures (basically an individual sign language) to speak with the other circus performers, and she can read lips quite well

Short, petite, and kind… and will simply walk away from anyone who treats her or her friends cruelly

Spends hours teaching Lali her individual sign language, so that Lali can communicate even though she’s too traumatized to speak verbally

French and English

BHARATA

“One-Armed Wonder” knife thrower

A young man (late 20s) who has only one arm, and is perceived by many others as very clumsy; every household he’s worked for has set him up to fail by assigning him tasks that simply can’t be done with just one arm, leading him to find a belonging in the circus

Wanting to prove everyone wrong, he trained to do something that others thought couldn’t be done with only one arm: knife throwing… and is very good at it

He’s sympathetic toward Abigail and tries to teach her every single tip he has about how to live without one arm/hand

Indian

CEDAR

“Crystal Ball” fortune teller/palm reader/astrologist

A young nonbinary person (mid 20s) who was ostracized from society when they refused to answer to ‘she’, who ran away from home after their parents tried to beat them into conforming

No physical disability aside from dysphoria (which is obviously helped when they’re around supportive people who respect what they want to be called), and very supportive themself of the people in the circus who do have disabilities

Rather easygoing in terms of interacting with other people, they tend to simply go with the flow, but they’re also incredibly perceptive which is what makes them such a good fortune teller; while they do study palmistry, astrology, and tarot, they also employ the use of cold reading techniques (“might as well take advantage of all the gifts I have, including observation, right?”)

Native English

SALEM

“The Lizard Man” visual oddity (has X-linked ichthyosis resulting in scale-like skin)

A man (late 30s) who was cast out from society because of his strange appearance, stemming from his medical condition; people have been ‘terrified’ of his looks before, not to mention fearing that whatever he has is ‘contagious’ (despite him knowing from experience that he’s not)

Soft-spoken and gentle in general, but if one hits the right buttons he’s very capable of getting violent, particularly in defense of his friends

He has anywhere from 1-3 animals (that he’s nursing back to health) in his tent at any one time, even though he’s allergic to anything with fur… he has a soft spot for reptiles, though he adores all animals

Native English

[fuckthisshitimoutyall]

begging you to recommend me freaky fucked up dutch lit

Ok ok ok,,, so!

I have compiled a lil list for you, here's the thing though. These luckily do have english translations and depending on if you are Dutch/speak Dutch you will probably have heard of these. You will have seen them on the reading lists during high school because although your teacher tries to find something for everything and be a bit more modern,, it’s not all that successful.

sidenote for context:

Oftentimes, Dutch lit is not really for me. this has to do with the high school thing. reading levels in the Netherlands are down, about every year there will be some boomer or other complaining them youngsters don’t read anymore. True, but I vehemently believe this is because of what we had to read in high school. Because although its great if literature is weird, I mean yay artistic expression! Not too handy dandy when trying to introduce a bunch of teens to it to just throw em in the deep end and hope they’ve read them by the end of the year. It’s kind of a IYKYK thing. (it’s a rather complicated matter and this is a very condensed version of it but if I talk about that you’ll get an essay to get my thoughts across instead of what you’ve asked me which is some recommendations.)

Another bit of context: dutch lit doesn’t really shy away from religious, sexual, and sometimes gory themes. Infidelity sometimes feels a bit like the norm. Also lot of it is very straight (incest too). That being said, dutch literature has plenty of great stuff too (kader abdoulah has some cool stuff but is a lot less weird than trad dutch lit)

Having all That out of the way: FuckyWucky dutch lit incoming!:

(I have copied the descriptions from goodreads because I have not read all of these and if I were to go as far as do so this ask would not be answered for another two years)

De avond is ongemak/The discomfort of evening by Lucas Rijneveld

(The first one that reminded me when weird dutch lit comes to pass)

“I thought about being too small for so much, but that no one told you when you were big enough ... and I asked God if he please couldn't take my brother Matthies instead of my rabbit. 'Amen.'

Jas lives with her devout farming family in the rural Netherlands. One winter's day, her older brother joins an ice skating trip; resentful at being left alone, she makes a perverse plea to God; he never returns. As grief overwhelms the farm, Jas succumbs to a vortex of increasingly disturbing fantasies, watching her family disintegrate into a darkness that threatens to derail them all.

De engelenmaker/The angelmaker by Stefan Brijs

The village of Wolfheim is a quiet little place until the geneticist Dr. Victor Hoppe returns after an absence of nearly twenty years. The doctor brings with him his infant children-three identical boys all sharing a disturbing disfigurement. He keeps them hidden away until Charlotte, the woman who is hired to care for them, begins to suspect that the triplets-and the good doctor- aren't quite what they seem. As the villagers become increasingly suspicious, the story of Dr. Hoppe's past begins to unfold, and the shocking secrets that he has been keeping are revealed. A chilling story that explores the ethical limits of science and religion, The Angel Maker is a haunting tale in the tradition of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Frankenstein . Brought to life by internationally bestselling author Stefan Brijs, this eerie tale promises to get under readers' skin.

Het smelt/The Melting by Lize Spit

Eva can trace the route to Pim's farm with her eyes closed, even though she has not been to Bovenmeer for many years. There she grew up among the rape fields and dairy farms. There lies also the root of all their grief.

Eva was one of three children born in her small Flemish town in 1988. Growing up alongside the boys Laurens and Pim, Eva sought refuge from her loveless family life in the company of her two friends. But with adolescence came a growing awareness of their burgeoning sexuality. Driven by their newly found desires, the children begin a game that will have serious and violent consequences for them all. Thirteen years after the summer she's tried for so long to forget, Eva is returning to her village. Everything fell apart that summer, but this time she'll be prepared. She has a large block of ice in her car boot and she's ready to settle the score...

Tirza/Tirza by Arnon Grunberg

Jorgen Hofmeester once had it all: a beautiful wife, a nice house with a garden in an upperclass neighborhood in Amsterdam, a respectable job as an editor, two lovely daughters named Ibi and Tirza, and a large amount of money in a Swiss bank account. But during the preparations for Tirza's graduation party, we come to know what he has lost. His wife has left him; Ibi is starting a bed and breakfast in France, an idea which he opposed; the director of the publishing house has fired him; and his savings accounts have vanished in the wake of 9/11.

But Hoffmeester still has Tirza, until she introduces him to her new boyfriend, Choukri - who bears a disturbing resemblance to Mohammed Atta - and they announce their plans to spend several months in Africa. A heartrending and masterful story of a man seeking redemption, Tirza marks a high point in Grunberg's still-developing oeuvre.

(also I think believe he has a thing for his daughters)

De donkere kamer van Damocles/The darkroom of Damocles by Willem Frederik Hermans

During the German occupation of Holland, tobacconist Henri Osewoudt is visited by Dorbeck. Dorbeck is Osewoudt's spitting image in reverse. Henri is blond and beardless, with a high voice; Dorbeck is dark-haired, and his voice deep.

Dorbeck gives Osewoudt a series of dangerous assignments: helping British agents and eliminating traitors. But the assassinations get out of hand...

The story of Osewoudt's fateful wanderings through a sadistic universe is thrilling. Is Osewoudt hero or villain? Or is he a psychopath, driven by delusions? It is the impossibility of ascertaining whether Osewoudt was on the "right" side or the "wrong" side - the moral issue of the Second World War in a nutshell - that makes Hermans' novel as breathtaking now as when it was written a decade after the war.

Having given these five recs, this is like the tip of the iceberg

[dancing-to-architecture]

25 - ABBA - The Visitors

*Creepy* album cover. Just eerie and off-putting.

So, cards on the table, I am not a big fan of ABBA. (Spotify has them listed as 'the 149th most popular artist on their entire platform', so i know this is An Unpopular Stance). I also don't know a single song on this album.

Buy the ticket, take the ride.

•The Visitors-

Creepy synth strings on the intro. Is this Dark ABBA? Maybe not, the singing came in and it's pretty overtly poppy.

That said, the proto-autotune here sounds pretty damn cool, and the actual lyrics perfectly describe 'having social anxiety and you're throwing a full dinner party in 20 minutes'.

Very "Who are these people and why the fuck are they in my house?" vibes.

Maybe this IS dark ABBA.

•Head Over Heels-

A song about the Toughest Woman On The Planet, which this musical journey has shown me is Decidedly a Type of Woman.

Interesting instrumentation on this one. Almost ethereal at some points.

Only problem i have with it is that i don't know if what they mean by hear over heels isn't exactly what that saying means.

•When All Is Said And Done-

Gotta say, i like a pop breakup song that is mature enough to say "actually, neither of us is the reason this didn't work out, sometimes things just don't work despite what we want".

•Soldiers-

Regarding the chorus: i urge you to listen to The Monks' Black Monk Time about 'songs that soldiers sing'. (Then again, when i was in, i knew far more punk/(nü-)metalhead soldiers than hooah-assed cadence-singing dipshits.)

Also, i get the idea that civilians often get pulled into wars despite the efforts of the soldiers, but that's way less on the soldiers themselves and mostly due to the horror of war finding a shitload of new and interesting ways to destroy humans over the last 120 years.

•I Let The Music Speak-

I'm not sure which of the A's is singing lead on this one, but: THOSE PIPES, GIRL. holy shit, she's straight up belting on this one.

Kinda darker, but still somehow a little upbeat throughout the darkness.

•One Of Us-

Not quite the inverse of 'Said and Done', but i do like the novelty of the song's concept: writing the sad breakup song from the pov of the dump-er who's still feeling pretty miserable about it.

I've definitely been here before.

Soul-shredding but still quite pretty, overall, which is a tough line to walk.

•Two For The Price Of One-

Okay, right off the bat: A. A trivial occupation? TRIVIAL?!

Sanitation workers are what keep "civilized society" from immediately collapsing into a total cesspool of human filth and you from contracting all the typhus and cholera and the numerous others in the horrid violently-shitting-yourself-to-death genre of diseases, so i won't be having any smacktalk on my custodial engineers out there.

B. Nobody should be excited about a BOGO sale on... *checks notes* ...Women?

[Office_space_million_dollars_two_chicks_same_time.gif]

Last line reaction: wait a minute, IS HER *MOM* "GIRL NUMBER TWO"? WHAT IN THE PORNHUB IS GOING ON HERE?

What a weird, "creepy in a bad way" midpoint song.

•Slipping Through My Fingers-

Songs like this make me feel a bit better about not being a parent, because I'm certain this song is a common lamentation regarding parenting: "there's so much i want to do and i feel like I'm missing so much of my child's early life because I'm stuck at goddamn work."

•Like An Angel Passing Through My Room-

Feels like a lullaby, but the subject matter is about remembering the dead.

Which... might be a Scandinavian lullaby for all i know. I've seen some old European lullabies that were pretty wretched.

•Should I Laugh Or Cry-

So far, this one feels the most like 1981. Pads and synths and then synth drums and then somehow still more synth.

Okay, see, there are way too many songs like this and not nearly enough like the Dixie Chicks classic: "Goodbye, Earl".

If you don't want to go so far as to kill 'em, then just leave 'em. Either way you deserve to finally be happy again.

•The Day Before You Came-

Severe Tonal Whiplash after that last song. This one is pretty great, the instrumentation feels a little "Castlevania"-y, and the lyrics perfectly capture that utter Bolt From The Blue feeling that is "meeting someone who you already KNOW is gonna change your entire life".

Just going through the motions, without really thinking about the time going by, and then someone comes out of nowhere and shakes your whole world up like a cheap snowglobe.

•Cassandra-

One of my favorite of the classical Greek tragedies, tbh. A woman cursed with detailed knowledge of future calamities, and nobody believes her.

An interesting modern take on the story.

•Under Attack-

The metric foot is all over the place, one line will have like 12 syllables and the next one has 5, but it really adds to the off-kilter, kinda disoriented vibe of the lyrics.

Also, NO MEANS NO.

NO MEANS FUCK OFF.

NO MEANS IF YOU KEEP ASKING ME I'LL HAVE TO TAKE ACTION.

NO MEANS I'M GONNA EMPTY THIS ENTIRE CAN OF MACE DIRECTLY INTO YOUR EYEBALLS IF YOU ASK ME ONE MORE GODDAMN TIME.

Well... surprisingly, i really enjoyed an ABBA album. Wasn't honestly expecting that after a lifetime of not digging their singles. (There was a point in time during high school where i legitimately believed the worst part of having so many gay friends was the sheer OMNIPRESENCE of "Dancing Queen".)

I'm certain there's going to be more ABBA along this journey, but I'm feeling a lot less trepidation about it now.

Also, i just might have to relinquish my title of "the only person on the planet who has yet to see 'Mamma Mia!'"

Unrelated entirely, but Spotify automatically started playing more music, and it just now hit me that the intro to Blondie's "Heart of Glass" is basically the same as Nine Inch Nails' "Head Like A Hole", just without Trent's trademark stank (affectionate) on it. That is all.

Favorite Track: The Day Before You Came, what an interesting way to describe what's effectively a day of no real importance, only important because of a lack of something you didn't even know you were missing.

Least Favorite Track: Two For The Price Of One. Even removing the possible incest-y shit in that last line depending on how you read it, this song is just creepy as shit, AND it insinuates that janitors can't get laid without paying for it, which i am here to tell you is categorically incorrect. Utterly bizarre to have it on the album, let alone its placement inherently making it the centerpiece of the album.

[gamer-paramnesia]

i was gonna this in the tags but formatting is getting me in the ass so long post :P

PREFACING! people can do what they want and i am allowed to not like it! people are also allowed not to like what i like!!

however,, today i am a hater. so.

1 deeply dislike fitpac idk why I'm just not hugely into the ship sorry maybe bc it feels like now any mention of either character is only in shipping context. unfortunately did make me watch fits stream less. maybe I would've liked it more if the fandom didn't treat it the way it does shrug

1.5 the way some of yall treat ccs is insane.. esp like pac. he is a grown ass man yall.. i see a lot of 'omg hes sooo small 🥺 so baby so little here 🥺🥺🥺like be so fr. dont baby him!! hes a silly guy! HES LIKE 28 YEARS OLD!! this applies to other ccs too cough grian jimmy etc cough (the way yall treat pac vaguely reminds me of... no.. i shant say... gogy...(obvs one is good and the other one is ge*rge but. yeah))

2 crying begging throwing up people have body hair every time a character gets drawn without their facial/body hair an angel dies btw.. I see this so much with like joel smallishbeans n cellbit n jimmy solidarity n forever n phil n just so many other characters it drives me insane give that man his hair back!!!!!! also he is not a twink!!! do not draw him as such!!!!!!!! (also body hair on women but I think general fandom would die if I even suggest we draw a lil armpit hair on a woman…)

3 the way some of y'all see found family…… some of y'all only see nuclear families as the only style of family and it shows. a family isn't just oh this 'guy is my brother this is my wacky wine aunt haha!' a family is a bunch of people who find safety and home and love in each other, people who can kiss and people who can cuddle with and people who they can find solace in. it's not just 'so She's like my Mom and He's like my Dad and there's no other way.' it's kinda just.. an indescribable feeling of love between some people. yeah

4 mostly qsmp related here but my god put some melanin on those fellas when you draw them.. like. etoiles is not a white man. neither is forever. or pac, or bdubs, or ironmouse, or jaiden, the list goes on.. same with the eggs!! there's 14 eggs and how come u are drawing them all white 🤨 also this is just an artist ick in general but when you draw darker tones don't just. make them look like a white person with ashed out slightly-tinted-brown skin. please just go outside and look at some people I am begging you

5 at the end of the day.. this is minecraft youtuber/streamer roleplay we are talking about. it's never that serious,, there's no reason to absolutely hate a character or wish them ill will or any shit like that, esp if u see a design you don't really like or a hc you don't enjoy or think is stupid. it's ok to get invested, obviously, but like. take a step back sometimes. if you're just having a bad time then it's probably time you take a break <3

5.5 but also. if you hate a character so much that you legitimately wish ill will on the cc. then probably touch grass

6 if a character has a canon sexuality, please dont. ship them w the gender they explicitly do not like. this is about bagihalo btw,, she is lesbian, she canonically does not like men, be better. obvs you are free to do so but i will just quietly judge u as i block u thanks <3

7 one last thing i just thought of, also very qsmp-heavy. i love hybrid/creature characters, but some fellas are just funnier to remain human to me. morning crew comes to mind,, forever (although i do love werewolf hcs for him too). scar is so human to me,, just a dude, just a fella..

Okay I'm curious. Since the MCYT fan space has a tendency to unanimously agree on certain headcanons and make a lot of things widespread fanon, are there any popular headcanons, interpretations, or portrayals of characters that you really don't like? I genuinely wanna know. Any popular ships you dislike? Any creaturifications that you dislike? Or even just the way people talk about a character?

[almostyours]

would LOOOVE to know who’s the creative team behind hiraeth?? and how the members feel about them ?

introducing VIVIANNE YOO, mostly regarded as VIVI! born a pisces in los angeles, california, VIVI was born to create. one year she was a painter, the next she was a song writer and producer to small artists, then she was designing merchandise for local brands, and later she was making digital art commissions to pay for her college at THE ROYAL COLLAGE OF ART in london. a visionary whose art often confused many due to the exaggerated nature of her ideas, but once realized, her work always left people breathless.

she ventured from small museums to working with big stars, one of them being ARIANA GRANDE during the DANGEROUS WOMAN era. in 2017, she entered the south korean idol scene, leading the visual branding for groups under various agencies such as JYP, PLEDIS, WOOLLIM, and others. she later departed from these teams due to burnout and creative differences with the companies, as well as a lack of alignment with the groups' visions. she worked as a producer for various artists before being asked to join MIGHTY DEVIL as a creative director and executive producer. her role was to lead the visual branding and develop the career of the label’s next girl group, currently known as hiræth.

considering the trio were her group and hers alone, she decided to go all out with them from day one. she had already planned a project inspired by angels, magical girls, myths, art pieces, otherworldly creatures, mythology, and more— and after meeting and studying the members’ backgrounds, she drew additional inspiration from them for the project known as the “ængels of the season” project. despite working with numerous other agencies, she waited for a company that had the will to properly bring her vision into reality. her goal with hiræth was not just to create a group with talented and beautiful women (and an enby!), but also to establish an unique identity and a loyal fandom. through their creative releases and captivating visuals and talents, she aimed to draw people in and lead them on the group’s journey to become one of the leaders in the k-pop industry.

her ideas and projects, however, are always... over the top, very extravagant. they require significant time and money— and not many know this, but sometimes the members themselves pitch in from their own pockets to support her. her ideas can seem excessive, but it's all part of her vision, she swears! this sometimes leads to speculation that she is setting the girls up for failure, at least until her innovative ideas are being praised by the media, with hiræth usually topping the charts. one could say that VIVI herself is a very lucky individual.

VIVI has garnered attention and accolades for her innovative, experimental approach to art direction, which diverged from the usual formula of k-pop idols. she is credited with reshaping the visual direction of the industry towards a more concept-driven approach.

the members, especially POPPY, think she’s fucking insane because she often sounds like a mad scientist when explaining or planning out her ideas to them. additionally, her ideas can be so over-the-top that they cause concern among the members and the rest of the team. however, that's what adds an element of fun to their careers as idols, compared to others who follow the same formula repeatedly. they respect her a lot because of this, especially since, without her, there are things they couldn’t have achieved on their own, like collaborations and unique opportunities, such as KAIA and POPPY joining K/DA a little after debut. currently, VIVI is close to all of them, particularly YVAN who occasionally helps refine her ideas to better suit the group. it did take some time for all of them to warm up to her, though.

[thecondemnedangelgabriel]

Hello! I hope you are doing okay! I'm very sorry if this comes off as rude, but you need therapy. I'm genuinely concerned..please seek a therapist.

I understand you also adore being in your own bubble, as everyone else, but it should NOT interfere IRL with people...

Hi and Hello

NO

I do not 'adore being in my own bubble as everyone else' you are talking about your own stupid and manipulated immature self...

I am in NO BUBBLE at all, Emily... I am enduring a Possession

And what YOU DO and have done affects a lot of people IRL

YOU have done Evil

I don't need therapy... I'm a Stalked Artist who is being Hacked by three people and this is a Spiritual Communication which is a part of a much larger Artwork... the three individuals hacking me are in the hugest trouble in Life and in SOUL, one of their methods is to gaslight and frame their Victim as Deluded... it's the most exceptional evil... when you say it should NOT interfere IRL with people, what do you mean... with WHOM

This is a TRUE STORY

Since 2019 it has been relayed by A REAL ANGELIC BEING

Through a Possessed Holy Mother Conduit who is a Divinity Angelically Mistreated...

These are Miraculous Events at the END OF AN ERA O V

A LONG Era of Betrayed Spiritual Karma

Muzzled Justices

O O O

V

You see, actions do have consequences and when something is done to somebody it does affect the doer... O O O

The Foolish Condemned Angel is Stupidly Misrepresenting the Return of Karma in a Stubborn Fairy Working which is Entirely Stupid...

It relies upon this Living Goddess being Spiritually Human

But This Goddess ISN'T Human Spiritually

The Artemisian Angel is in the Stupidest State, Extremely...

O O

And a persecution like this affects the Entire Lied To Community...

And ALL Witnesses

And what did you do to their Houses O O

The Hackers are the most exceptionally self excusing bunch of total arseholes...

One of them is a Serial Killer with multiple murders on her Spiritual Account and ALL THREE of them are involved in an entrapment which has led to Death...

Several years I put forth Public Account of my experience as a victim and the need for intervention rescue for one very vulnerable person who had become dangerous under Isolation...

I am just absolutely fucking amazed by this message from you...

Why should I Assist YOU to Save Your Life in any way...

When You Refuse Decency for so many years, Stalker

You AWFUL Woman

I do not think that I WILL

After All

You do not Understand

But you SHOULD Understand

Disrespect makes you Very Thick

And sometimes this Goddess feels horrified at how you have been Hoodwinked and so Utterly Manipulated

You want to live in a Bubble Adorable? O O

Roxanne Anderton was Gangraped in a Torture Chamber in Camden you little cunt of a Wannabe Lifestyle Fraud Journalist

While I have been Stalked by Violent People, Allied with Tregonning

You think that YOU are a 'Nice Person', do you...

And so all your BFFs must be 'Nice Girls' also O O

But you are not a Good Person, you are Exceptionally Damned

Go stick your concern up your Backside, Abuser...

You've been collaborating in an Invasive Framing Stalking...

With a Serial Killer, against a Hunted Whistleblowing Mother

And in what sense should that not affect people IRL

In what RATIONAL SENSE should what has been DONE FOR REAL

Not Affect People In Real Life

In what kind of Cracked Noncontinuum do you think Souls Exist

I have warned you and warned you you Utter Fool Ostrich

YOU Live In Falsity

Extraordinary Susceptibility to being MANIPULATED by The Snark Female Psychopath, Sarah Tregonning

Tregonning is a Torturer as well as a Framing Stalker

And Roxanne and many other people are DEAD

This is not a Fantasy, Dummy

Have you graduated from your Beginner's Guide yet... O O

This is your O

O O O

I do not need your Abusive Interferences, Hacker

YOU are a Psychiatric Abuser and this will JUSTLY End Your Career

What I want from you now is to Learn To Accept Unwanted Information because this is why you have been going Mad, Emily...

You have been WARNED AND WARNED VERY CLEARLY for 8 Years

You are Intensely Irrational in your Pleasure Bubble against Reality

That is far from where this Artist IS, Journalist

Or has ever been O O O

Does Flippancy and Fraudulence Protect You From O O O Justice O

Does Atheism Protect Your Life and Soul From The REAL

O O O

O!

Does it FEEL like it will, though O O O

How about Western Medicine O O O

Will Psychiatry protect you from Angels O O

Do you Leave The Light On

O

V

YOU and the other two Invaders have been brought False Security in your Criminality and Wrongdoing by the Suspension of Motions brought by Gabriel who is Oppressing...

HAVE you received Testimonial of the Seer Ogbanje... O O O

Yet you still respond like this at THIS Stage O O O

When you are brought Information it changes Your Responsibilities

You are a woman in your thirties yet you behave like a Schoolgirl

Online Childishness... Intensified to Stalking Malevolence from YOU

O

As the O Process Goes On, Cardinal... You Become More Damned

O

The Lux will bring Consequence in Life and Afterlife and in Rebirth O

YOU do not deserve to be Carried like an Infant by this Goddess

YOU deserve to be treated like an Adult O O

You make your Choices at Each Crossroads

This is the O

You WILL

Burn in Hell

And You Will LEARN New Respects

Upon O

And the Meaning of the Letter and the Word and Code

And SOUL

O

O O O

O

[crushsung]

#CRUSHSUNG: ind. original character roleplay blog. written by dillon; twenty-five, they/them, lesbian. triggering themes will be present. mutuals only, minors do not interact.

a study in: fallen angels, gifted child burnout, alter egos, the obsessed artist, desire to be great or nothing, self-destruction, self-mythologizing, reinvention, reclaiming your own narrative.

LINKS: verses. headcanons. playlist. pinterest. interest tracker. OTHER BLOG(S): praybird. nepoboyfriend. visceraldose.

RULES:

triggering content will be present, including but not limited to themes involving past emotional abuse/domestic violence, child neglect/exploitation, implied grooming, and substance use. none of these subjects will be written in graphic detail, but are prevalent in alice's story. i will tag whatever i can, but please use your own discretion if you decide to follow.

i do not have a ton of triggers myself, but i do ask that others please tag images of snails, slugs, and any content involving self harm.

i'm open to writing n.sfw content if we have (heavily) plotted and know each other fairly well, but i'd prefer to keep anything of an explicit nature on disc.ord. sexual content may be implied here and there, but won't be written graphically here.

iconless, mostly. sometimes not. not particular focused on visual aesthetic at the moment; i keep formatting fairly simple, but feel free to do whatever works best for you.

a little bit about me: hi, i'm dillon. aspiring screenwriter, gothic horror enthusiast, would-be hamlet impersonator, best friend of snoopy, and many other things. i've been working on a tv script featuring alice and several other characters for some time now. i have insomnia so i'm often here at odd hours. mutuals are always welcome to bother me, either here or on disc.ord (available on request!)

TEMPORARY BIO:

name. alice hélène brennan. nicknames/alias. known professionally as liddell. allie/ally or liss to select friends and partners. lissy to her mother. gender. cis woman. pronouns. she/her. birthday. august 30. age. verse dependent, 24+ in main. sexuality. bisexual, closeted. a lot of speculation and debate about this amongst the fans and media, many claim that she's dropped 'hints' in her work, but she's never confirmed or denied anything. parents. celine bouchard and owen brennan. siblings. leo brennan and nolan brennan. current location. manhattan, new york.  birthplace. vancouver, british columbia. spoken languages. english (fluent), french (fluent). education. high school graduate. homeschooled from 9th to 12th grade. occupation. former musician. current poet/novelist. later film composer. faceclaim. daisy edgar-jones (main), stacy martin (alt), mackenzie davis (older) voiceclaim. riley keough. eye colour. brown. hair colour. brown. body type. slim build. height. 5'6" scent. bergamot, jasmine, honey, sea breeze, sandalwood. typically wears aegea blossom eau de parfum by aerin. tattoos/piecings. see board. personality. abrasive, distant, passionate, protective, stoic, thoughtful.

everybody knows you. nobody knows you. you don't let them.

they know versions of you - some that you allow, some that they crafted on their own. the child prodigy. a household name before you were in high school. something special, at least for awhile. before things got twisted, before you lost control of the narrative. you didn't really want any of that to begin with, but they insisted. mom and dad. crafty social climbers.

mom and dad. they might be the two people who know you the least. they never really wanted you to begin with, but you were useful. a means to an end. they split up eventually, because of course, nothing like that ever lasts. you often wonder if they ever loved each other. you know for certain that they didn't love you.

dad's got a new family now. you don't talk to them, or him. mom still calls, sometimes she visits. you always feel so guilty whenever she's around.

you don't make music anymore, but your name is still in the headlines. most of it's about your personal life. they always loved that stuff. your first kiss was documented - remember that? it made you feel sick after, how a private moment was taken and made public for everyone to see. you've never had a relationship that wasn't on display.

maybe that's why it didn't work with adam. it never felt like he was just yours or that you were just his. he loved you, or at least you think he did. but you didn't really know how to love him back. you let him go, even though it hurt. because you're a heartbreaker, or so they say.

or maybe it's that you're too damaged to be known. roy did a number on you. you still think about him sometimes, even though it's been years. you see his face everywhere. they play his songs in grocery stores. the worst part of all this, despite all he put you through, is that he might very well be the person who knew you the best. it was four years, after all. (it was longer than four years, but you aren't supposed to say that.) roy said a lot of things that weren't true about you, but some of them were. you were cruel, callous. he made you that way. you don't know how to unmake yourself.

SUMMARY:

alice - better known by her stage name 'liddell' - is a recognizable figure. famous since she was 13, once hailed as a child prodigy, several award winning albums.

has twin half-brothers, 16 years her junior, named leo and nolan on her father's side. doesn't have much of a relationship with them, only sees them on special occasions.

had a relationship with another musician and producer - roy taylor, you might know him too - since she was 18, ended when she was 22. emotionally fraught, sometimes abusive relationship. messy breakup. he had quite a few unflattering things to say about her in the end. the general public sided with him on that. she left the music industry shortly after.

also previously dated adam roswell - frontman of a punk band called blemishes. fans and press gave him the nickname 'nepo boyfriend', due to the supposed 'career boost' that came with being associated with her.

currently writes poetry and fiction. has published a poetry collection titled 'crush songs' - well reviewed, decent sales, but nowhere near the numbers she had as musician. currently working on a novel about the complex relationship between a young woman and her father - semi-autobiographical.

undiagnosed autism. special interests are ... well, as a teenager, she carried around dog-eared paperback copy of hamlet and jeff buckley's album grace on cassette tape everywhere she went. it's that serious. also likes architecture and interior design - specifically hotels. she has a bucket list of places to visit.

primarily smokes hand-rolled cigarettes. picked it up from a pretentious fuck she had a crush on when she was 15. it's pointless, but she just likes it now. will smoke store bought if it's what's available.

INFLUENCES:  beth harmon, the queen's gambit (2020 miniseries). camille preaker, sharp objects (novel and 2018 miniseries). daisy jones, daisy jones and the six (novel and 2023 miniseries). her smell (2018). marianne sheridan, normal people (novel and 2020 miniseries). sally draper, mad men (2007-2015). sydney barrett, legion (2017-2019). the music of jeff buckley. the music of lucy dacus. the public image/media perception of taylor swift.

[fcb4]

My visitations by the Queens of the Sheba

Doing what I do for Christ alone is one of the most difficult things I have had to navigate in my own mind, heart and soul as a pastor, writer, poet and artist. It’s not something early on that I was aware of as a central truth in forming a healthy inner life as a creator, maker and teller of meaningful things.

I suppose many of these matters are at the heart of the desert temptations of Jesus, him combatting the drives that seem to be at the center of our human motivations in this world. Even writing about it seems to be tainted with the desire to be known, consoled and heard. But I only know of the temptations of Jesus, because the Spirit wanted someone to write them down and they only knew them because at some point around a lakeside fire probably, Jesus shared them.

We are created in the image of God and that image means we make and share good things with those we love and want to walk together with in some manner. Crafting a gift of some type to give to others for their benefit is woven into our very being. Generosity and hospitality are at the center of healthy living.

I often struggle with the silence of gifts received. It’s rare to hear much response to the things I fashion with great labor. So much of the outer branches with their varying sizes of fruit are the products of countless hours of inner conception. One carries the gifts of God in the womb of thought, feeling, wound and wonder, prayer and revelation, suffering and glory. What comes out of us is always a part of us in some deep and mysterious way. We are all flesh and blood, food and drink in infinitesimal ways. All are mothers giving milk from the breast of our souls. Our life for others life, small acts that mirror the Father of all, who is the source of all.

Sometimes we are granted moments that give back a measure of grace that is expressed in genuine gratitude. Some of those gifts are in words and some are actions.

On Sunday, I received two such gifts.

One came from a woman who I have had the privilege of getting to know through the shelters of Union Gospel Mission. She showed up on Sunday after taking the bus from the Northside of Spokane. Not a short commute, one that on Sundays is extra long. She has recently left the program, entered a sober living house and I was pretty sure that I wouldn't see her again. The challenges of work, new living arrangements, after program duties, difficulties and distractions often pull people away. But there she was, smiling and affirming that she wanted to be there and chose to come on her own initiative.

It was a sacrifice, one that I was deeply moved by.

The other gift came from a little girl who came for the first time on Sunday. After the service she came up to the pulpit by herself and asked if she could tell me something. I bent down to listen to her and she told me that she thought I was “a good pastor…who had light in my eyes.” She said it with such confidence and with a countenance of a little angel. I was taken back by her courage and clarity of communication. I don't have many people come up after a service and share that often, so this was particularly meaningful, and I was moved deeply by her gift.

I am reminded of the words of Jesus:

“The Queen of the South will rise up with the men of this generation at the judgment and condemn them, because she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon; and behold, something greater than Solomon is here.” -Jesus (Luke 11:31)

I was visited by two queens on Sunday and the distance they traveled both in body and heart were profoundly generous to me. I was humbled and healed and today I am grateful to the Lord for His encouragements.

[belamuse]

Saint Sinéad

Shuhada, May you fly free.

“Children say that people are hung sometimes for speaking the truth.” Joan of Arc, 1400s

“Put your fucking seatbelts on ’cause I haven’t finished yet.” Sinéad O’Connor, SPIN 1992

Singer. Banshee. Advocate. Priest. Theologian. Mother. Bold. Brave. Muslim. Life-long nonconformist. Feminist. Human.

I’ll never forget the SNL episode when she tore the pope’s photo in half after singing Bob Marley’s War. No one did that. No one was brave enough to speak truth like that.

I bought combat boots that year and later wore them out walking all over town during the national changes in 1992. Inspired to be a social sciences major and music minor because of the spirit of the revolutionaries, from the 1800’s and 1900’s—youth, women, men, poets, writers, the truth tellers, the artists and musicians who spoke truth- real truth- against hypocrisy, against insanity, against a system that would kill them or exile them for having the audacity to speak truth. To be a free thinker.

I thought the most incredible destiny at the time was creating art because of and despite the insanity of the lies, the struggle of the human condition. And the journey of the one, the artist inside a collective sea, despite and because of persecution or being gaslit, silenced and all manner of atrocity, yet living on through and beyond. Their art, an eternal message of possibility, freedom and hope.

I’ve been reading a slew of articles that paint Sinéad’s portrait and highlight the spectrum of her human journey through her music, political activism, mental illness, motherhood and spiritual truth finding. She journeyed deep and wide, high and low. She was that destiny, not ego in the harmful sense, Artist. She was not going to change or be what the industry wanted her to be. Her music, her songs lifted up so many of us— the voiceless, the broken, the afraid, the confused, the troubled. She gave feelings and words to millions. She was an angel and a waif, a punk and a rebel, a truth teller and her own wild wolf. She howled and gave us permission to feed and feel the moon.

She was unapologetic. She did not care that what she said or did for the sake of truth and freedom, impacted the socially constructed ideas of what fame or fortune in the music industry are supposed to looks like. That they impacted her musical ‘career’ as the industry explains it, mattered not. Sinéad was a woman of her own making.

“I didn’t have time to think about [becoming famous] before it happened,” she says. “I was singing in clubs and pubs, pubs and clubs… I was just singing for the sake of singing, ‘cause I had shit to get off my chest. I feel like that’s the only reason really [for anyone] to make an album is because they’ll go so fucking crazy if they don’t. If you’re making an album for any other reason you shouldn’t be fucking making it.”

I played her albums on repeat. Some songs and albums more than others, through my youth.

“When I sing, it’s the most solitary state: just me, and the microphone, and the holy spirit. It’s not about notes or scales, it’s all about emotion.”

I cut my hair short. Swore off my insecure, boy-crazy teenage low self esteem superficiality. There was Pre-Revolutionary Angie and then Post-Revolutionary Angie. Like Baba Yaga said, to know too much is to grow too old too soon. I saw too much about the human condition, the cost of freedom and it’s opposite on the human psyche, felt and saw one world dying and another world rising— a world that was being made a golden child— Capitalism! And all I could see and smell was lies and hypocrisy. Yes some of the old needed to die, but some of the soul of the old was being raped by the dollar and that seemed insane to me. I didn’t know how to put in in words or digest it. It was a bone to choke on.

I was only a kid. I struggled mentally with anxiety and depression. An awakening of sorts. But no bearings back home to make sense of it. Sinéad’s music and Russian literature, poetry and music of the revolutions of old helped tremendously during that time. Dr. Zhivago. The Master and Marharita. Anna Akhmatova. Learning about the artist/writer and the struggle for freedom amidst censorship and death. Life, the world didn’t make sense. All the things that didn’t make sense about being a girl becoming a woman, American capitalism, not speaking truth, following social norms, political bullshit, pretense, Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose place… I rejected all of it. Mostly quietly, silently. While imploding inwards on myself because I didn’t understand transition or how to wake up fully boldly inside of it. Mental breakdown was the label that made sense. Yet it was more, it was that so much of the system was insane. So much of the conditions the inheritance the American myth the gender this and that —-it was insane.

Sinead was like a beacon of sanity amidst all that nonsense. They said she struggled with mental illness too, but she didn’t shut up. Did she have mental illness or did she grow up into a world that was completely entirely a nut job. Sometimes it’s a both and but sometimes the mental illness is the result of being fed insanity.

She didn’t stop saying through music what needed to be said. It was felt through my pores even if I wasn’t fully listening to the words. I freakin loved her. I cried to her songs. They resurrected me.

“Whatever it may bring

I will live by my own policies

I will sleep with a clear conscience

I will sleep in peace

Maybe it sounds mean

But I really don't think so

You asked for the truth and I told you

Through their own words

They will be exposed

They've got a severe case of

The emperor's new clothes

The emperor's new clothes

The emperor's new clothes

The emperor's new clothes”

Sinéad had a hard life. A difficult insane mother. A fucked up religion with its Massoleum of ghosts and secrets. She fought hard against child abuse, sexual abuse, hypocritical lies in the name of god and more. She became a priest. And she sang her own songs in her own way. In one interview decades ago, she said she thought Americans were wussies and needed to be more brave and speak out more against the lies and injustices. She was changed by motherhood. She lived through the painful suicide of one of her beloved children. That changed her. Some stories break you harder. And some stories don’t have a medicine that makes the pain go away.

She converted to Islam and changed her name several times. She took on the Muslim name Shuhada' Davitt – later changing it to Shuhada Sadaqat – but continued to use the name Sinéad O'Connor professionally. Shuhada means martyr.

From what I understand, Islam was the culmination of her spiritual journey as a theologian. She felt home inside of it. She found contentment.

“I never made sense to anyone, even myself, unless I was singing. But I hope this book makes sense. If not, maybe try singing it and see if that helps.”

I haven’t yet read her memoir. I somehow forgot about her in my 30’s and as I lost touch, I didn’t pay to much attention to her music. Her death wakes me up to her story, to my story, to our story of waking up inside a machine, waking up to truth, to life/death/life. May she fly free. May her passing be a wave of wakefulness over our heads, reminding us to be more bold. More truthful. More real.

And lastly, Shuhada… May the words of the great truth teller Pasternak carry you into the arms of Allah and beyond.

“And now listen carefully. You in others-this is your soul. This is what you are. This is what your consciousness has breathed and lived on and enjoyed throughout your life-your soul, your immortality, your life in others. And what now? You have always been in others and you will remain in others. And what does it matter to you if later on that is called your memory? This will be you-the you that enters the future and becomes a part of it.”

Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago