#this is what everyone gets for complaining about the drought last year

[firebreadtroy]

so... am I the only one that really doesn't feel bad when people build houses along rivers next to known shoddy dams and an artificial lake and their houses get swept away.. or is that just me

[stupendousfoxthing]

I am curious what Army fans and Taekookers and Jikookers saw when all the content came out in real time. I've watched all the Run BTS episodes and a huge chunk of the Bangtan Bombs as well as BV Soops and I don't see the separation or distance between Taekook. Why did the fandom beleive they weren't close? I also see Jimin and V having a much closer and cuddly bond than the two rival ships. What am I missing?

Well I feel like I may not be in line with popular opinion on this because the "separation" has never really factored much into my belief in Taekook. It's not something I focus on or put much thought into, because of course if two people are in a relationship that needs to be hidden for their protection that's what will be done. Analysis videos took off a bit into my Taekooking and where they really lost me was hyperanalyzing every single Run episode. I don't expect to find ship proofs there, nor do I look for them in that kind of content. The "moments" are usually just slowed down and exaggerated normal interactions. I became a Taekooker in 2016 which is when something of a drought started in them getting paired up in official content. Not a complete absence, but starting that year we saw a lot less of just the two of them. I just started to expect I'd always see a third member with them if we got them in any concept photoshoot for instance. 2016 was also the last year we saw just the two of them in a live together for four years. I still remember when the news that Taekook were live in 2020 hit Twitter I didn't believe it. Then I tuned in to see them kind of awkward and obviously being chaperoned, and suddenly it made sense. I've seen a few times where it appeared that Taekook were being directed to separate. There are a couple where their moods change that I find interesting, but I'm not going to read too much into it because I have no idea what was going on behind the scenes. Most likely, I never will. But there's also things like BV Malta where I believe they accommodated them in sharing a room considering Tae was in a vulnerable spot emotionally at the time. I'm not one to complain about the company making people believe they aren't close, because I think the people that do believe that are obviously wrong and just want that to be true. I'm incapable of caring about their opinion. Taekook themselves showed everyone in solo era that no matter what the nature of their relationship is, they're the closest pair. That they choose to spend a significant amount of time with each other. That they are deeply involved in each other's lives. Anyone paying attention can see that. I don't know that you're missing anything. If you like Vmin's cuddly bond and think they're the closest, that's cool. Hopekook is also a very cuddly pair and I find both pairs adorable. But I don't believe in either "ship", and I don't think they are the closest. For me it's no question that's Taekook.

[yooboobies]

oh absolutely I know last anon meant it in the best way 💟 also the tumblr post itself linked is recent so it was easy to think it happened recently (and I know op meant well too, the drought is just real 😭) but the tweet they are referring to was from june hence the confusion :( it just makes me a tiny bit sad because the other members are interacting with each other or you have jin referencing jungkook etc, you hear news from all of them but him and it's just! it's not a criticism because I know why the others won't mention him and I never liked those who complained about the "lack of support" because they don't have to do shit publicly and I'm sure he was his desire too. it's just hard overall that I'm here wishing for a single s/o from literally anyone 😭 but we will get through this!

In the end we don’t know if it was him asking everyone to not mention anything, if he was the one asking hybe/the members to not acknowledge the news. We cannot be for sure, all we can do is patiently waiting even if its hard.

Ands also respect him and his decision 💜 and also to let go of all the negative things that happened recently and only focusing on sending him all the love, and move on and be positive 💜 at least thats what I’m trying to do - not addressing the situation anymore and only focusing on the positive things and my eternal undying love for him💜

Would be lying if I said it’s not hard - I know it’s hard for everyone! But we wouldn’t be armys and Yoongi girlies if we would not be strong 💜 we were raised by the strongest person ever💜

We can do this - as fast as the days are going it will be here sooner than we think! Its almost the end of the year and in a little more than a month we will already be in the year of their return!! And godddd I cannot wait! And until then resident armysitters and best babes 2seok are here to fill the gap with laughter and love AND GOOD MUSIC💜

[miss-petrolea]

My country (the Netherlands) is going through a very wet and "cold" summer (highs around 25°C, most weeks not really reaching that in my area) so far this year, and I hate how it "convinces" climate denialists that it's all bullshit. Like we didn't have a drought with extreme (for us) heat just last year.

Someone posted an old newsreel in a group chat last February, it was a 1970-something video coverage of that date and its 15°C weather. This person posted it as a gotcha, that such temperatures had always happened in our winter. Not for a moment stopping to think that apparently it was unique and bizarre enough to warrant a 12-minute (!) newsreel in 1970-something, on the national news, and in the footage all ponds were frosted over and people were ice skating on the still safe ice. We've had maybe 2 days of safe natural ice the past few winters. I remember white Christmases with reliably having about ankle deep snow around that time of year, but we're lucky to get 2cm of snow for the entire winter these days. I'm 36, these winters were maybe 15-20 years ago.

The person who posted that is currently joke-complaining "can't that global warming hurry up because I'd like a real summer now".

And I just... I don't even know how to respond to that anymore. Do they not see what's happening? Are they just ignorant or willfully so?

When we were looking for a house to buy we looked at ground water levels including at least 20-year projections for every area we considered, and I didn't meet a single person who thought that was smart, everyone thought it was ridiculous.

We had several floods of varying degrees over the past few years. Even where and when drainage pumps are active, the rivers were just too backed up.

"Every month since June 2023 has now ranked as the planet's hottest since records began" - The Weather Network

[devotedlyqualitygalaxy]

I'll be honest, we're all scared of something. Actually, we're probably all scared of more than a few things.

This 3rd Seal is scary to me. For most it's all a joke and apocalyptic literature, but to me when Leviticus chapter 25 walks in with those 7 year seasons, and after seven of them they were to play a trumpet, then after 7 seals in Revelation there are 7 trumpets, I go, "oh jeez", it's the last inning, the final quarter, the last plays.

So after a couple years from 2020 of looking at news from my country, then everyone's country I could read in my language without those blasted paywalls stopping things, I came to the conclusion the only one who knew what the heck was going on was God. So, I prayed about it, and eventually got into the Bible Code for a year. Oh, what a year. Well, the short of it is that World War 2 was in the Bible code as Seal 2, and given 1939-1, 1940-2, 1941-3, 1942-4, 1943-5, 1944-6, 1945-7 ... well, that's a problem, now isn't it? Seal two had a color of red it said, and there were millions who died - spilling blood that's red - in World War 2. So that was problematic.

Why? Seal 3 the color is black. What color is the barn when it's empty, the silo when it's empty, the pantry when it's empty, and the screen when it's off? Black. There just happens to be a solar cycle going one from 2020, G1-2020, G2-2021, G3-2022, G4-2023, ?-2024 ... So the Solar Storms will take care of the screens and the Russia and Ukraine war just happen to involve Russia and Ukraine which had a combined output 1/3rd of the Wheat exports to the entire World before the worldwide drought in the 2020s - which that worldwide drought led to a Russian border city of Ukraine asking Ukraine for water and Ukraine saying no we won't give you water, the leader of Russia getting miffed, a war starting, and the town that needed water in worse shape than before the war. That takes care of the Silos, Barns, and Pantries, doesn't it?

How long? Well, given this world crazy started in March 2020, that means March 2026 is year 7 right - which makes 2027 something to think about.

I told churches and all. Somehow I'd talk to pastors and tell them. Nobody is preparing. No one. They all say Revelation has a million interpretations, most of them want to believe in pre-tribulation instead of the literal read-through, and when it comes to the literal interpretation, what men see and what John saw from heaven likely looks a lot different. What do fleshy eyes see? What do spiritual eyes see?

So, it's scary. At least, to me. And of course, since the churches who aren't preparing are going to all be aware of this, how far can they complain when they knew? They save for those in need. Those in need survive often because churches reached out to them. So... this whole idea is not cool. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Yea, but did you do the math? Yes, yes. The Jewish calendar ends at 6000 years, to God a day is a 1000 years. In other words, the entire Jewish calendar is God's work week. Revelation has a 1000 years of Jesus reigning the people, which is God's day of rest. 7 day week. Crazy, right? Yes, throw 7 years a seal, trumpet, thunder, 3 1/2 years of two witnesses, 3 1/2 years of the antichrist, a rapture, then 7 years per bowl of wrath for those who were left on Earth to suffer - it all nicely fits inside the 6000 years with decades to spare. There's some unknown spacing going on, so no one knows when any of these things will start.

Of course, after Seal 3 and some spacing, there's Seal 4 with a rider's name of Death. Are people going to prepare for Seal 4 who fear God with underground communities for the length of the Seal, or are they just going to do what the churches are doing now? Let's wait and see what happens, then we'll know what interpretation is right. Sheesh.

We are all scared of something. Give it to God. If you have to tell someone about it, talk to someone who's good to talk to, as opposed to bad to talk to. Sometimes people will surprise you.

God's got this. I don't know what's going to happen, but that black color is looking pretty bleak.

[tropicalrpg]

iii. every ticket is one-way these days. there is no such thing as a return. there's only away from home. a plane ticket to australia is more expensive than a brand new car.

To be perfectly fair, it is warmer where they’re from. They’re closer to the Equator, which I could’ve guessed, but never knew. The climograph tells me that it’s supposedly quite pleasant here, and quite absolutely fucking dreadful over there. I forgive them for all of their complaints. They never tried to tell me they were sorry, but I have to let go of this grudge I’ve been holding for so long.

Still, it’s different. Not for me and them, maybe, but for my masses and theirs. But that’s not the point. My point is not drawn on a map, not actually. It can be; when I was in, what, ninth grade? My geography professor made us draw the line between the Global North and the Global South. This anecdote might be a lie. I must admit I only remember the map.

And it’s Christmas, and it’s summer, so guess what?

_____

I’ve never known anything but warm Christmases. I’ve never known anything but a hundred days of drought in the winter and world-shattering rainstorms in the summer. I know beaches in January, I know how 10ºC is enough to make going outside not worth it, and I know that I’m oceans away from anywhere worthwhile.

Two of my siblings have already left. Another one of them wants to, I’m sure. Only one of us doesn’t want to, and that’s not me. I hate how I yearn for something more, as if I don’t think this is enough. As if I don’t love the land beneath my feet more than anything in the world—literally. I hate the fact that I feel like I have to get out of here. I have to, I have to get out. My days are numbered. Where are they not?

Nowhere are things getting better. We, and by we I mean humanity, are generally, universally fucked. We are the masters of our own undoing. But for us, and with us I mean my masses, a mass I am not a part of—I don’t think I’d be here, complaining on an English-language Tumblr blog, if I were—, it’s worse. Even for me, it’s worse, but I don’t get the brunt of it. I hope to be able to soften the blow, but it barely reaches me.

If I left, I bet I’d have an easier time. And now, it’s not because of how it is for everyone; now, I’m being as selfish as I can. I am a selfish person. I am a narcissist. I’m complaining as if anyone cares. But I don’t get along with anyone here; the one who knows me best agrees, unfortunately I’d have an easier time somewhere else. And I could point out the ridiculous, superficial reasons as to why. I don’t drink, I’m timely, I am something I don’t know how to translate into this stupid language, but basically means I am particularly sensitive to heat, so I feel warm more easily than I feel cold. And, well, I go to uni for something that only allows me to go into academia and, like most things, I have a better shot at a career in academia if I go abroad, because, more than most, it is a tiny field here. It is insignificant, but not as much in developed countries. As per usual.

I want to leave. That’s the worst of it. I want to go to Germany, to Italy, to the United Kingdom. I want to leave. I want to come back, don’t get me wrong, and I don’t know if moving abroad matches what I want for my life—I don’t know if I want children, but I don’t think I want European children, damn—, but I think I need to leave. I’m too young for immigration to actually be an option, but I’m starting to think about it. It’s begun.

_____

I dreamt of England when I was 10.

Everyone did, back then. It was the times. I can’t remember if the English I spoke became accented with Britain, but I like to guess so, because I do remember sounding more and more American as time went by. (Until last year, but now I’m too old for a change in accent to feel anything but faked.) It was because of all of them, the names we all know, some posh southerners making YouTube videos and tricking ten-year-olds worldwide into their farce. It was so much fun. The first book in English I ever read all the way through was the second Girl Online novel. I was a fool.

It was fun, though. And that’s when I started dreaming, though I knew nothing. Now, I know significantly more, of course, and I still think I’d be better off somewhere else. Though, it’s tough; I know that the time for me to move to England is not now, and the same goes for the US (though I don’t ever want to move there), and probably everywhere else. Lord, is it not the time to go to Italy. Nowhere’s safe, or so it seems.

But if I’m in danger, “danger”, where I am, should I not flee?

There’s this thing about being an immigrant, though. It is that it’s always less safe when you venture into the unknown. So, even if I do leave here in search of security, security is exactly what I’ll lose. I’ve told you I don’t get the brunt of it here, and that goes for many reasons. I have a support system, I have some money, I am hugely privileged. If I left, that wouldn’t be true. I would be alone, I would not have nearly the same amount of money I have here, and much of the privilege wouldn’t apply anymore. I’d be unsafe. I’d be in danger. Truly, genuinely, at risk.

That doesn’t discourage me, though. And I hate that. I hate that, even knowing that I’m safer here, I know it here, I’m protected here, it’s not enough for me. I look at my TV screen and I want to go. I want to go to England, to Germany, to Spain. I want train rides and publicly owned television and white Christmases. And, if I’m already alone here, then I want a fresh start. I want strangers, I want foreigners. I want the easy conversation-starter of oh, where are you from?

I want to smile and reply. I want to fumble with my C2 English. I want to have the right to be out of place. I want it to feel like it can get better.

_____

I’ve gotten rid of every friend I’ve made my whole life. I don’t know if it was me or them. By which I don’t mean I don’t know if it was my fault; it must’ve been. What I mean is I don’t know if I was the one who pulled away or if they left me instead.

And I’ve looked for fresh start after fresh start. I’ve been scrambling for purpose, for belonging. I changed schools and names, I got into uni and left everyone behind, but I’m still alone. Are my standards too high? Am I doing this to myself? (Yes. I hate myself, so I don’t let myself befriend those who are like me. I am judgmental. Deeply, deeply judgmental. Deeply critical of everyone who I think is below me or on my level. I am a narcissist. We’ve been over this, and we’ll keep going over this.)

Here’s what happened to my childhood friends:

I don’t remember having any. I mean, I do. But none that could have stayed. I was five, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t have neighbor friends. I had friends from school, but one of them moved away (she’s a professional surfer now, which is insane) and the others I lost touch with. I’m still a kid, by the way. An adult, but a kid.

Here’s what happened to my middle school friends:

Well, I say they were middle school friends, but let me touch on some elementary school friends, still. I was a fucked up kid. I don’t remember much. I remember I was bullied and I fought people. I remember choosing those who I thought were better than me, and then being used, and knowing it was bad for me. I remember dropping people. I remember being bullied because of the bad choice I made. I remember my parents not wanting me to be friends with my friends. I don’t remember why. I don’t remember much.

Middle school was about the same, but I was more fucked up in a much different way. I was either depressed or some weird kind of emo. I stopped having any real-life friends, but at least I still had online friends, and so many of them. It was the worst year of my life, but some of the people I met then I still know now. Distantly. Then I rekindled some friendships, made a new one, but, fuck. Still.

Here’s what happened to my high school friends:

When I changed schools to go to high school, I dropped all but one of my old friends. And I’m not exaggerating. I kept occasionally meeting for lunch with one of my middle school friends, and the rest I all but ghosted. I had a TTRPG group—I never showed up again. I had a friend group with a groupchat—no more replies, ever. I was a dick. But I was also going through a lot; I changed my name, remember me saying that? Well. I needed a fresh start. I needed people who would get me. And I got that.

The friends I made in high school were perfect for the first two years of it. The first year was the best of my life, at least the best yet. This year was shit—they’ve only gotten worse since—so, yeah. Best time of my life. I’m not the type of person you’d expect to peak in high school, but, well. Life catches you by surprise.

And they were perfect. Until they weren’t. Until it was my fault that I couldn’t keep in touch over message, and they got into relationships and got busy, and our interests had nothing in common anymore, and everything just got—

So different. I don’t get choked up thinking about it, but I do choke. Even my typed words come out wrong. And I don’t want to talk about uni friends—I don’t even want to talk about high school friends—they’re still there, on my cell screen—I just want things to change. I’m a horrible person, and I want nothing to do with any of them anymore. I have no real-life friends, no one to count on when push comes to shove, but now I barely have online friends. I can’t keep in touch virtually. I’m bad at all of this. I’m deeply narcissistic and profoundly stupid. I’m a kid. No one wants anything to do with the grown up child.

I hope for a fresh start. I’ve tried micromoves, changing schools, redirecting the course of my life in small ways. But if I went abroad? If I truly got the opportunity to explore, to be surrounded by people who have never seen me before, who, in no way, shape or form, have anything to do with me?

I can only dream of that. I can only dream of yet another chance to try and make first impressions, to try to do things right. Because I’ve been failing and failing. God made me out of failures and flaws. Out of fish bone and feather. I’m tired of sitting still, and I want to run. To Ireland, France, Denmark. To Tristan da Cunha. To my bed when it’s dark, to my bed when it’s light.

I’ll keep on hiding. I’ll keep on hoping. As ridiculous as I know it’ll keep on being.

2022.12.23

[inkskinned]

he tells me i'm jaded. he says - you love showers so much, why not stand in a rainstorm instead?

rainstorms have a potential to take down tree branches. they're unregulated. they get my clothes wet. in the time of my grandparents, maybe it would be more romantic. it's a drought where i live. the rain that comes down is sullen, yellow with pollution. i bite half my nails off reading about climate predictions. i stand in the shower and shift from one foot to the other, feeling annoyed with myself because i care about all of this, of course, but as a climate scientist i'm functionally useless.

he says - the color is all gone from the world! people used to like bright things. what happened to all of us?

i feel like rich people love minimalism differently. they like to remind others - i don't really need things. they can afford to have-less. they don't need to worry about buying extra; they can just get it later.

my car is silver so in 5 years after paying back the loan i might be able to sell it, if i don't hurt it too bad and if i don't drive it too hard, and if luck is in my corner. it's just a simple sedan, nothing-special. i guess i'm technically borrowing it from the bank. i can't really-decorate my apartment; i don't own it. i am not going to be able to afford a house any time soon. i would love to make my walls a wash of bright color - but i'd lose my deposit.

my clothes are all in neutrals; classic cuts that have very little fuss or personality attached to them. i worry about fast fashion and my finances; i want to be sure that i can wear the shirt in the future without feeling stupid and out-of-touch. the other day i finally tore through a pair of shorts i've had for about ten years now. i went home and tried to figure out how to repurpose the denim. how to make everything last a little longer. i sometimes will try on something trendy and cool and colorful - and then i pick out something i know will last me a long time instead. muted, conservative, unimpressive.

he says - the real world is waiting! everyone is so obsessed with their phones these days. go outside, connect with your friends!

it costs twenty dollars to go on the guided tour. they don't let you into the conservatory without a 320 dollar yearly membership. i come up with a spreadsheet, trying to figure out where my friends have schedule openings that overlap with mine. we both frown over our calendars - can't do thursday that week, anything in two weeks? there's no train, it costs forty dollars in transportation for her to come over; but i miss her, so i venmo her. we both bemoan the fact that there's just no way to get around without a car.

i am actually a full-blooded romantic. i am actually someone who truly and deeply believes in hope and the future of humanity. i am a poet, after all - i write because i believe someone out there, like me, is watching the world crumble while nursing a broken heart. i believe that most of us want to be kind, to be good, to turn our cheeks to the sky and be contented and warm.

it just feels like - there's this strange, brewing storm. where people with money and power and prestige get to say - hope is a yacht, just hop on and go.

and all us jaded, horrible little still-here tear-stained cockroaches, who croak and complain about global injustice: we don't accept it. we make our lives beautiful with whatever we can wrestle out of stone. we clutch our diaries and our sunflowers and our songs to our chest. ugly and hurting, we snarl - hope isn't yours though. it's ours.

it's all we have left.

[adhd-disaster-willie]

home is wherever you are tonight

summary: Alex and Willie are suffocating beneath their respective parental figures, so, barely 20 and scrambling to just breathe, they leave LA. And they also slow dance.

notes: this was gonna just be a like 800 word fic of them dancing but I have no self control so I ended up with this monstrosity. (also, maybe listen to apple pie by lizzy mcalpine while reading)

word count: 2,600

---

“I been runnin' 'round

Try'na find a place where I can breathe

But me oh my

I found you

Under an april sky

And you feel like

City life, apple pie baked just right

Home is wherever you are tonight”

---

The early morning tastes like coffee and Willie’s breath mints, gentle laughter lingering on his lips. And Alex has never been a morning person, but with the first rays of sun in his eyes and boxes crammed into every empty space in his car, he thinks that maybe he should wake up early more often.

The road seems to stretch endlessly ahead of them, but Alex can’t tell if the tension in his chest is anxiety or anticipation. Willie squeezes his hand in reassurance as he starts the car and they take a deep breath in unison, realizing it’s maybe the first time they’ve ever been able to truly breathe.

They’re several miles down the highway, shoved in between cardboard boxes and the dry August heat; and Alex’s car is cramped and smells of fast food and summer and Willie Willie Willie. Alex adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, mumbling the words to whatever song is playing on the clunky, staticky radio. The whole world seems softer, with the sun dipping just below the horizon, the last dregs of light sticking to the clouds and painting them pink. Alex sighs contentedly, a grin tugging at the ends of his lips. Willie has their hand stuck out the open window, giggling into the rushing air like it’s telling him the whole world’s secrets. And with their other hand gripped in his own, no reason to let go ever, Alex thinks that the secrets of the universe are laid right out on the dashboard for him to hold.

“What’s so funny?” Alex asks, although it’s less of a question and more a reason to hear Willie’s voice.

“We’re running away together,” Willie replies breathlessly. He laughs again, throwing his head back and stretching his arm farther out the window like he’s trying to touch the clouds.

“Well I wouldn’t quite say we’re running- oh okay.” The last part is in response to Willie putting their index finger over Alex’s lips and looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Yes we totally are. Buzzkill.”

Alex huffs, but it doesn’t hold any weight and is laced with a smile. “I’m driving, idiot. Stop- okay move your hand please.”

“Make me.”

“Willie.” Alex’s fixes a stern gaze on him, just long enough to send them into a fit of giggles before he turns back to face the road. It’s several minutes of comfortable, soft silence before Alex sighs in resignation. “I guess you can say we’re running away.”

“Ha!” Willie pumps his fist, narrowly avoiding smashing the ceiling. And really, considering the age of Alex’s rickety car, smashing would probably be the right word.

Alex raises their intertwined hands briefly. “Here’s to running away.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Willie cheers. They crinkle their nose and kiss Alex’s knuckles, hugging their hands to his chest.

“That’s…” Alex shakes off the crimson tint to his cheeks. “You’re not drinking anything.”

“Not yet,” Willie replies, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

Willie falls asleep with the sun, something that’s baffled Alex for years. The sky is twinkling with stars and the horizon with city lights, and Willie’s curled up around a pillow, their cheek pressed against the window, breath fogging up the glass. Alex shifts slightly to turn down the music, maneuvering around cautiously to reach the knob without letting go of Willie’s hand. He can’t help from humming under his breath, it’s an older Queen song, one Alex remembers listening to with tangled headphones, huddled in the corner of the gym to avoid the atrocity of dodgeball.

“Love of my life…” Alex trails off, mouthing the lyrics. Beside him, Willie stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent.

“Hmm?” Alex likes having conversations with a mostly asleep Willie, it’s incredibly entertaining.

“Love you more.” Eyes still closed, Willie pats Alex’s cheek and nods decidedly. “Mostest.”

“Is that so?”

“Love of my life!” Willie sings along loud and off-key, voice slurred with sleep. “M gonna love you forever.” They fall back, last bits of consciousness gone, and Alex blinks back surprised tears.

“And ever,” he finishes softly, squeezing Willie’s hand. Forever sounds nice.

The rest of the drive floats by like a spring breeze snaking through a field of long grass. Willie wakes up at some point, eats an ungodly amount of popcorn and screams the lyrics of American Idiot out the window at the bustling city, like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to hear the song. Alex can’t help but laugh loudly when a conservative looking old lady glares at them, utterly scandalized.

“I think you just ruined her night,” Alex quips with mock seriousness.

“As I should!” Willie flops back into the seat, adjusting their tangled seatbelt and looking at Alex with a lopsided grin.

Alex laughs for what’s maybe the millionth time today, and it hits him that this is the most he’s ever involuntarily smiled in a day. It’s half past 8 and he’s settled at the base of a tree with Willie perched on a branch just above his head, rambling on about color theory or something equally as confusing. The drive would’ve taken 4 hours without Willie pulling on Alex’s elbow and squealing for him to stop at everything mildly interesting, but Alex isn’t entirely complaining, even if his back is sore.

It’s odd, to be leaving LA, but Alex thinks that everyone knew he couldn’t stay there his whole life, not with the church on his drive to work and the streets full of too many people that know him too well. And maybe he didn’t like change, but it can’t be that much of a change if Willie is still there with him. Willie grounds him. So do Luke and Reggie and Julie and Flynn, but in a different way. His parents tied him to the floor, his friends root him, let him grow and have a place to come home to at the same time. And Willie? Willie is the ground. He is the soil and the curling grass to Alex’s timid tree. Willie is home, wherever they may be.

“2 miles,” Alex states, pulling gently on Willie’s ankle, letting them know that he wants to look at them. Willie hops down and Alex winces even when they land safe and sound on their feet.

“Why do you do that?” Alex questions huffily, crossing his arms over his chest.

Willie gives a half shrug. “ ‘S fun.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Hmm.” Willie drapes their arms around Alex’s neck, pulling him into into a gentle kiss. Kissing Willie feels like rain after months of drought, sun breaking through a canopy of trees, and Alex is sure that it always will, until they’re old and grey. Alex smiles against his lips, pulls apart and rests his forehead against Willie’s, biting his lip in a soft smile. “C’mon.” He clasps Willie’s hand and sticks it in the pocket of his hoodie, bumping their shoulders together. “Lets go home.”

“Home.” Willie breaks out in a grin that glows like the full moon on a clear night. “Yea.”

---

The apartment complex is wedged in between a suspicious looking butchery and a quaint little antique shop with butterflies painted on the dusty windows that Alex reminds himself to take Julie to at some point, when his friends all inevitably visit in the whirlwind that they are. The pale yellow wall paint is peeling and the stairs are much more wobbly than Alex is comfortable with, but he lets out a breathless, bubbly laugh at the sight of it. His parents aren’t there, nor is Caleb, or any of the things back in LA that were suffocating them both to the point that they booked it, half-broke and with only 2 months of warning.

Alex swings their hands, looking at a very bouncy Willie with his eyes blown wide from excitement. “Hey, we’re home.”

“We’re home!” Willie grabs Alex’s face roughly, fumbling to kiss him with their hands shaking and lips curled up in a giddy beam. They settle for holding him in a crushing hug, swaying them back and forth gleefully.

“You’re excited,” Alex chuckles, brushing at his crumpled hoodie when Willie breaks away.

Willie sticks his tongue out childishly. “So are you, admit it.”

Softening, Alex cups Willie’s cheek and exhales softly. “Of course I am.” He crinkles his nose affectionately as Willie leans up to peck his cheek. “Now-” Alex stacks as many boxes as he can fit in his arms. “Lets do this.”

---

It’s 2am and Alex is completely and utterly exhausted. Half the boxes are open, they unpacked most of it just looking for the air mattress. His record player is resting on the counter, there’s a pile of books in one corner and several trashbags of clothes in another. Willie is sitting crosslegged on the floor trying to work the portable air pump and scowling at the still deflated mattress like it stole his wallet.

“Y’know, you’d think they would provide some sort of instruction book,” Willie says poutingly. They fall back onto the wooden floor with an annoyed sigh.

Alex looks up from where his head is buried in his arms, sitting on the single bar stool they’d managed to fit in the car. “There was an instruction book, speed bump. You threw it out because you claimed that ‘everyone knows how to work an air pump!’”

“But I’m not everyone!” Willie whines. “You should’ve warned me.”

“I… okay.” Alex bows his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lets blow up the mattress and call it a night, okay?” He lowers himself to the floor, hovering over Willie and tucking a strand of hair behind their ear. “Give me the pump, I’ll figure it out.”

“Hmm.” Willie hauls themself up, yawning loudly. They settle themselves in Alex’s lap, head tucked into his shoulder while Alex wraps his arms around them and fiddles with the mattress.

“M gonna fall sleep here,” Willie mumbles into Alex’s shoulder.

“Yea?”

“Mhm, g’night.” Willie burrows further into Alex, tucking his hands into his hoodie pockets.

Alex exhales, a fond smile tracing his face. He lifts one hand to card his fingers through Willie’s long hair, using the other to blow up the mattress. Willie groans in frustration at the loud noise and Alex has to fight a laugh.

“Alright get up, we have to- Willie.” Willie’s latched himself onto Alex like some sort of leech, pretending to be asleep despite the soft giggling escaping his lips.

“William,” Alex says, snickering. Willie doesn’t budge. “Pretty boy,” Alex tries. That always works.

Willie melts, lifting their head and flushing bright red. “Stop taking advantage of me,” He grumbles as he stands, pulling Alex up with him.

“Stop letting me,” Alex retorts with a teasing chuckle.

But instead of flopping unceremoniously onto the mattress like Alex expects, Willie pads tentatively to the wide window facing the flickering city and lets out a breath of awe. He hugs himself firmly, brushing his thumb over his bicep. Alex approaches them and snakes his arms around their torso, perching his chin on their shoulder and humming in question.

“I’m okay,” Willie answers the unspoken question, nudging Alex’s head lightly. “It’s just overwhelming but like…” he pauses, eyebrow furrowed in thought. “In a good way. It’s a lot, but it’s all good.”

Alex nods in understanding. “Yea, I agree.” He intertwines their fingers, rocking back and forth. “Lots of good.” He presses a kiss to the top of Willie’s head, lingering for a moment to relish in his presence.

“It’s beautiful,” Willie remarks, eyes raking over the bright city lights. It looks so distant and yet so familiar at the same time.

“You’ve seen the city a million times.”

“Ok, but this is a different city,” Willie responds. It’s true. It’s like the same puzzle with all the pieces arranged differently, except for one in the middle that the whole rest of the world revolves around.

Willie wriggles in Alex’s grip and spins around, tossing their arms over his shoulders and fidgeting with the hood of his sweatshirt. “Dance with me,” he says, voice soft and silvery, a whisper of cloud waltzing across the moon. Alex raises a doubtful eyebrow.

“You wanna dance… Willie, we’re exhausted.”

“No, no, no,” Willie shakes his head slowly, eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “Just-” They settle one hand one Alex’s shoulder and the other on his hip. Humming a gentle, lilting tune, they begin swaying side to side, drumming his fingers to a beat only in his head. “Dance with me.” He presses an idle kiss to Alex’s lips, chapped from the wind and laced with fresh apples . “Please.”

Alex hums in consideration, moving Willie’s hands to hold them in his own. “One second.” He ducks out of Willie’s arms, earning a squeak of protest.

Alex has had his record player for years now, Ray gave it to him as a Christmas present when he was 15 and he definitely cried. He’d gone through 3 boxes packing his records and Willie had looked… mildly concerned. But ha, who’s laughing now? The vinyl starts, popping occasionally in the way that makes Alex giggle with joy. Alex steps back proudly, floating back over to Willie and mimicking their previous position, one hand on their hip and the other on their shoulder. Willie smiles fondly at the song choice, Apple Pie by Lizzy Mcalpine, though he knows that nothing else would’ve fit.

“Remember the first time we listened to this song together?” Alex asks as Willie stumbles over his feet.

Willie nods. “Course I do, hotdog. You got sooo blushy.”

Alex shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, you kissed me so it worked out.”

“It did,” Willie whispers.

Alex spins them messily, laughing aloud when they slam into his chest without warning. "Very graceful," he remarks sarcastically.

Willie scrunches his face affectionately, pecking the tip of Alex's nose, singing gently as he draws back. "Home is wherever you are tonight."

It’s a tender moment, until Willie steps on Alex’s foot and snickers an apology. “Oops-”

“Ow, Willie. You don’t know how to slow dance do you?” Alex teases.

“Ok-”

Alex sighs warmly, god sometimes all the feelings were just so big and overwhelming. “Just, c'mere-” He draws Willie closer to him, embracing them like he’s the only thing in the world. And maybe, for the moment, he is. Willie tucks his head into Alex’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, lavender and dust; and Alex follows suit. His eyes flutter shut and he hums contentedly, heart giving a leap at the sheer domesticity of dancing in the empty living room in their pajamas, Willie tracing slow, sleepy circles on his back.

They’re hardly dancing anymore, really, wrapped up in each other like the sea and the shore at high tide, swaying to their synced heartbeats. The unfamiliar walls and creaky floorboards, cold beneath their socked feet, suddenly begin to look like home beneath all the strangeness and Alex can’t help but grin.

Alex’s home is in the crook of Willie’s neck and the light curve of his spine; the scent of rainstorms and cotton holding him close like he’s prone to break. And perhaps one day he will break, fall apart in Willie’s arms. But with the scratchy record humming in the background, and Willie’s body melting into his own, he thinks that their arms would be the best place to fall apart in.

---

art i made :)))

[angeloncewas]

This just confirmed an idea i already had which i guess it solidifies it but anyways

So like during the lore drought in Summer I got into Hermitcraft bc why not and I was back into my MC interest, seemed fun and i was promised no lore to the extents of the DSMP (which side point, very funny Season 8, the season many of us got into it is the season of the whole everything going down. So that was a lie/lh)

But before that, we all know the Build Mart discourse and the tension around it. So before I was into the series, that whole shyebang got a little iffy with some SBI blogs and Trafficblr blogs, who at that time were mainlt SBI blogs and slowly mainning Trafficblr, but most ppl who are fans of dream in Tumblr can agree that those blogs are mostly neg about him, so much that I, anon-Dream (not saying which person but they he's from the Feral Boys)main could see as clear as water.

But okay, sure I got into that section bc of Last Life and slowly switched to Hermitcraft and followed some Trafficblr blogs and hey, they dont seem so bad, maybe I was wrong..

NOPE! Past existences that happened while I was/am in there like the Dream and George neg for the Minecraft mob vote as if other mcyters haven't done that, more Build Mart shit bc ugggghhhh. why does Dream hate it so much he obviously hates Grian 🙄 Noooo Grian doesn't like Parkour Warrior and Battle Box! Those games must be eliminated! Screw Dream even if he isn't the only player cracked at those games! Screw the DTEAM even if more players are good at Battle Box 😱 IGNORE HOW WE COMPLAIN ABOUT DTEAM FANS COMPLAINING ABOUT IT EVEN IF WE ARE DOING THE SAME AND ARE HYPOCYTAL AND WE DONT LIKE TO ADMIT IT/ WE SAY ITS ONLY SEXY WHEN WE DO IT AND ARE A BIG PART OF THE TOXICITY OF MCYTBLR 🤣, when other teams in mcc trash talk Dream in mcc they are cool but when Dream does it he is toxic, he needs to lose more often so my faves can win even if he were to do that we would complain how he lost on purpose as if our cc's cant win legit, Dream is a toxic player even if with new members in his team he coaches them kindly only getting toxic with his friends of literal years, almost decade, Dream is too cracked at mcc he needs to be more nerfed even if he worked for years for those abilities and can't be good at every MC skill like building just like your ccs can't be good at every skill they do like maybe pvp or speedrunning techniches-

All of that and tonight's instance just solidify my opinion that Hermit and honestly most of Trafficblr are the dttwt users of Tumblr, the awful ones. Like they said the 2019 Grian fans were like the current dsmp fans who are really toxic but that their community has gotten better over the years. Yeah that progress was undone bc they are acting just like 2019 toxic Grian fans.

Current Trafficblr 🤝 Beeduo/Dteam twitter mains

Acting like 2019 Toxic Grians fans

They are the thing they hate the most aka dream stans lmao

THE BIG PARAGRAPH IN THE MIDDLE WITH THE EMOJIS SENT ME FOR SOME REASON 😭 I get what you're saying though fr.

I think one of the quickest things to breed toxicity is a sense of superiority. When you feel like you have the high ground, it's easier to look down upon others and harder to look within yourself. We saw it with general mcytblr during the escapee era; everyone constantly was on about mcytblr's supremacy over mcyttwt and completely failed to recognize and come to terms with flaws in their own behavior. I think that's some of the problem with trafficblr/hcblr - because the dteam side of the mcyt fandom is such a hot mess (and I as a Dream-main will readily admit that) they believe they're above it. Hell, I did too! I lowkey idolized (very lowkey, but still) the hc blogs for their chillness. But that's not how this is. We're all just people in fandoms and as such we're very much alike in a lot of ways. Their ccs rage and trash talk and falter and so on and so on just like the ones I enjoy do, but because they have that false-bottom pedestal they rag on "our side" for it and don't care to consider theoretical hypocrisy.

This isn't every hc fan/trafficblr member - my dash is HIGHLY hc focused nowadays bc in the midst of the lull a lot of people I follow switched over - but I think it's worth considering. I am always ready to talk about the problems with the parts of the fandom I'm in, even when I myself don't agree with the criticisms, but I just don't see that energy shared and swapped among them in general. I don't know if I'd call them "awful" like you because my experience with them as a whole has been incredibly limited (and usually incredibly negative because those are the ones who tend to cross over) but I'm very sorry that's been your experience.

[hafanforever]

Tyrant Terror

So I know it’s no surprise to my closest friends and fellow Disney fans on Tumblr that I have a strong, deep affinity for villains, including those by Disney. And over the last several months, the more I wrote about King Runeard in my Frozen II analyses, the more I realized what made him a tyrant, albeit a secret one, and that led me to think about other villains in the Disney animated canon who were tyrants.

The thing is, while most historical tyrants were people of royalty, you don’t necessarily have to be a monarch in order to be a tyrant. The definition of a tyrant isn’t limited to being a KING or QUEEN who is openly cruel, hostile, harsh, uncaring, oppressive, persecuting, and unjust towards the people they rule. I mean, that is one way to express tyranny, and probably the most famous way it is and has been done. But what it really means for a person to be called a tyrant is being in a position of power, authority, and/or control over other people and MISUSING, to the point of ABUSING, that position, and often for that tyrant's own selfish desires rather than in the best interest of the people being ruled by the tyrant.

So from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to Frozen II, there are a handful of tyrannical antagonists who are indeed monarchs, such as the Queen of Hearts, Prince John, and Scar, but also plenty others who are not. There are tyrants who are corrupt government officials, such as Governor Ratcliffe, Frollo, and Bellwether, and even those who wield magic, such as Maleficent, Ursula, and Jafar. And like the villainous monarchs, the non-monarch villains prove themselves as tyrants all because they abuse their positions of power, magic or non-magic power, and authority that they have over other characters. In fact, there are even a couple of heroic characters who start off more as protagonist villains because they display tyrannical behavior before they become better people. On the contrary, the main antagonist enemies of these tyrant heroes serve as darker reflections of what the latter characters could have become had they not learned the error of their ways.

Below is my list of all the villains from Walt Disney Animation Studios that I perceive as tyrants, from monarchs to government officials to sorcerers, and what scenes in their respective movies depict them displaying tyrannical behavior. I even listed villains that would have become tyrants had they succeeded in their longterm goals.

Monarchs

The Evil Queen: Though we never see her actively governing her kingdom on screen, the abuse that the evil queen displays in her authority over Snow White by dressing her stepdaughter in rags and forcing her to work as a maid in an attempt to make her (Snow White) unattractive makes her a tyrant for sure. Furthermore, the way she mocks the skeletal remains of a prisoner in her dungeon suggests the queen is indeed a cruel, tyrannical ruler.

Queen of Hearts: If we want to consider the epitome of a true tyrant that is a monarch from Disney, it can be safely assumed that that role belongs to the Queen of Hearts. While every resident of Wonderland is insane in some way, the Queen is the most dangerous one of all by being the ruler of the land. An egotist extraordinaire, she loves to get her way, insisting that “All ways are MY ways!” and enjoys hearing the words “Yes, Your Majesty”. The Queen outwardly abuses her authority and power over her subjects by becoming furious over even the smallest of matters, during which she loses her literally explosive temper and flies into violent rages. She is also extremely irrational and unjust in making decisions, primarily by utilizing executions as her only and immediate solution to any problem, especially whenever she feels someone has wronged her, while also refusing to let the individuals she wants beheaded explain their sides of the stories. Enraged upon seeing her white roses painted red, when she misses a shot in croquet, and when she becomes the target of a prank caused by the Cheshire Cat, the Queen sentences those she deems responsible to death by beheading. All of this proves just how much she persecutes and oppresses the residents of Wonderland, instilling only fear and intimidation into their hearts. (A pun that is VERY much intended by me, the Queen of Puns! 😆😆😆)

Prince John: While possessing a short temper that isn’t nearly as explosive and violent as that of the Queen of Hearts, Prince John is displayed to be extremely incompetent as the ruler of England during the time that King Richard is off fighting in the Crusades. Stingy and greedy, the prince continually finds ways to rob and swindle his people in pursuit of wealth for himself. John shows absolutely no care that the harsh laws he decrees to gain more money drive the citizens of Nottingham into poverty and starvation, and he even cruelly mocks them on their poor states by saying, “Rob the poor to feed the rich!”. After the villagers start making fun of him with the song “The Phony King of England”, John punishes them by further increasing the tax payments. Soon everyone in Nottingham is stripped of their money and they are put in prison due to their inability to pay their taxes.

Horned King: Even though the Queen of Hearts projects herself as the ideal example of a royal tyrant, she is far less evil and scary than the Horned King. A skeletal creature with green, rotting flesh, the Horned King is completely frightening in appearance and in personality. Malicious, cruel, malevolent, sinister, power-hungry, megalomaniacal, ruthless, and merciless, he is the epitome of a tyrant who is nothing but purely and completely evil. His goal is to find the infamous Black Cauldron and use its powers to unleash an army of immortal warriors called the Cauldron Born in order to become immortal and conquer the world.

Scar: Denied a legitimate chance to succeed Mufasa as the King of the Pride Lands once Simba is born, Scar schemes to have both of them killed to become king. After murdering Mufasa and believing that Simba has been killed as well, Scar ascends to the throne. However, because he allows the hyenas unrestricted hunting rights in the Pride Lands, their overeating leads to a shortage of food, and a drought leads to other animal herds moving away. Ultimately, these events turn the kingdom into a barren wasteland under Scar’s reign, leaving it completely devoid of green vegetation, water, and food sources. Incredibly lazy and incompetent as a ruler, and caring about nothing except the power and authority that being king gives him, Scar refuses to accept that his allowance of the hyenas overeating is what leads to the destruction of the Pride Lands. He instead blames it on Sarabi and the other lionesses since the hyenas complained to him that they refuse to go hunt. When she suggests they leave Pride Rock to survive, Scar obstinately rejects the idea, not at all caring that he has essentially sentenced them to death. He argues that his place as king puts him in the right for whatever he decides to do: “I am the king! I can do whatever I want!”

King Runeard: In his life, Runeard openly presented himself as a peaceful, generous leader to the people of Arendelle AND the Northuldra. But Elsa discovers from his snowy manifestation in Ahtohallan that he did not trust the Northuldra just because they followed magic. Despite his kingdom having seen him as a benevolent ruler, the face the figure of Runeard makes as he sneers "of a king!" implies that only really cared about himself as well the power and authority he had in being a king. Therefore, he secretly misused and abused it whenever the opportunity came along. This is displayed perfectly when Runeard had the dam constructed in the Enchanted Forest, presenting it as a gift to the Northuldra. He claimed that it would strengthen their land, but admitted only to the second-in-command that the dam’s effects would be just the opposite. This was all part of Runeard’s subtle plan to destroy the Northuldra, as he feared they would try to usurp him and take over Arendelle using their magical ties.

Government Officials/Authority Figures

Lady Tremaine: Like the evil queen before her, Lady Tremaine has control and authority over Cinderella once the latter’s father dies, and misuses it by turning Cinderella into her servant. Day after day for ten years, Lady Tremaine orders and bosses Cinderella around, forces her to do every single bit of housework and menial task for her and the former’s daughters, and subjects the poor girl to an endless cycle of abuse and torment. When Cinderella is accused by Anastasia of putting Gus under the latter’s teacup, her stepmother refuses to let her explain the truth and unfairly punishes her with extra chores. Later, Lady Tremaine falsely promises Cinderella she may attend the ball if she finds a suitable dress and finishes her chores, but gives her chore after chore to do to keep her from working on her dress. After Cinderella appears wearing the dress her mouse and bird friends fixed up for her, Lady Tremaine subtly and cruelly manipulates Drizella and Anastasia into destroying it so that she can appear to be fair in her side of the bargain (”If you can find something suitable to wear”) while simultaneously keeping Cinderella from going to the ball in the first place. The following morning, when she realizes Cinderella was the mysterious girl who danced with the prince at the ball, Lady Tremaine follows her stepdaughter up to her room and locks her in to prevent her from trying on the glass slipper when the Duke arrives with it.

Sheriff of Nottingham: Despite not being the main antagonist of Robin Hood, the Sheriff of Nottingham is as much of a tyrant over the town as Prince John is to it and the entirety of England. This is because he is abusive, ruthless, and completely unsympathetic towards the people’s poverty and continually demands that they pay their taxes, regardless of what other problems they may have that hinders them from doing so. It is because of the Sheriff’s harsh decree of taxes, and then by that of Prince John once the latter takes up residence in Nottingham, that the town’s citizens are driven into poverty. The cruel, immoral way the Sheriff collects taxes includes forcing out the coins Otto had hidden in his leg cast, not caring that his act was causing the blacksmith pain from his broken leg, confiscating the one farthing Skippy had been given for his birthday and insincerely wishing him a happy birthday, and taking the single farthing that was in the Friar Tuck’s church's poor box and laughing as he did it.

Ratigan: A notorious crime lord, Ratigan is the leader of a gang of thugs comprised primarily of mice, but also including a bat named Fidget, who is his second-in-command. Although they willingly help their boss with his crimes, they also participate out of fear for their own lives. Ratigan is an abusive tyrant to his minions and threatens to feed them to his cat Felicia if they ever do something that angers him, even if it occurs unintentionally. This is shown after one of his drunken thugs calls him a rat during "The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind”, and Ratigan threatens his other minions with the same fate if they do not keep singing. Ratigan’s latest scheme is to take over London by murdering the Mouse Queen during her Diamond Jubilee celebration and secretly replacing her with a lifelike robot. He and his thugs (who are disguised as royal guards) infiltrate Buckingham Palace and kidnap the Queen, who is taken to be fed to Felicia by Fidget. As the Diamond Jubilee takes place, the Robot Queen names Ratigan as her new "Royal Consort", and Ratigan, dressed in an ornate robe, immediately presents himself in front of the gathered citizens of Mousedom, terrifying them. He then proceeds to read over his long list of tyrannical laws, one of which is a heavy tax policy for people he deems "parasites", including the elderly, infirm, and children.

Governor Ratcliffe: A completely unscrupulous and greedy man, Ratcliffe leads John Smith and other sailors on an expedition to Virginia to find gold, but he secretly plans to keep all discovered riches for himself. Upon their arrival to America, he forces all of the settlers to dig around their encampment, but refuses to do any manual labor himself out of his own sheer laziness. When no gold turns up in the searches, Ratcliffe becomes greedily convinced that it is because the Native Americans are hoarding it. He refuses to believe John's claim that there is no gold around the land, claiming that the Powhatans’ land is his land for the taking and that he makes the laws. After John is captured by the Powhatans, as they believed he murdered Kocoum, Ratcliffe takes it as the opportunity to take the non-existent gold from them, but claiming to his men that it is a rescue mission.

Judge Claude Frollo: Perhaps the darkest and most malevolent of all Disney Villains in animation (aside from the Horned King), Frollo uses his position as the Minister of Justice in the city of Paris to enrich himself and persecute anyone and everyone he considers inferior. He especially holds a deep-seated hatred for the gypsies and plots to eradicate them from the city. Despite his dark deeds, Frollo refuses to find any fault within himself and he truly believes he is a good person who is only trying to rid the world of sin and malice. Any time he commits a crime or is about to do one, he makes excuses to justify them, saying he is doing it in the eyes of God and that his victims are the ones who are really at fault. After chasing and murdering Quasimodo’s mother since he believed that the bundle she was carrying was stolen goods, Frollo attempts to murder Quasimodo since he believes the latter’s deformity makes him an unholy demon. Years later, after trapping Esmeralda in Notre Dame and upon discovering that she has escaped, he launches a ruthless manhunt around the city to find her, burning down the houses of anyone suspected of sheltering gypsies (including an innocent miller and his family, who survive thanks to Phoebus’s intervention) and interrogating gypsies who are captured. During the climax, Frollo makes the excuse that Esmeralda has proven herself to be a witch and will be executed by burned at the stake as her sentence.

Hades: The reluctant ruler of the Underworld and Lord of the Dead, Hades abuses his authoritative role by subjecting his lackeys Pain and Panic to harsh mistreatment whenever they fail a task assigned to them and any other time they do or say something that angers their boss. The two imps only put up with Hades’s abuse not so much out of loyalty to him, but out of deep fear for him. When he discovers that the two did not succeed in killing Hercules as a baby, Hades furiously grabs both Pain and Panic by their necks and chokes them as he demands they explain themselves. Later, after Hercules becomes a famous hero in Thebes, Pain and Panic adorn themselves with some of the hero’s merchandise, much to their boss’s complete ire.

Shan Yu: The ruthless yet respected leader of the Hun army, Shan Yu is an extremely dark, merciless, and dangerous individual determined to take control of China. His thought-to-be impossible feat of getting through the Great Wall to invade China soon makes him notorious and feared throughout the entire country. In his journey to the Imperial City, Shan Yu and his army destroy one village, then slaughter the entire Imperial Army and residents in another village at the Tung Shao Pass in the mountains. He and five of his elite soldiers are the only ones who survive a snow avalanche caused by Mulan. When the group arrives at the Imperial City and take control of the palace, Shan Yu orders the Emperor to bow to him, and decides to kill him when the latter adamantly refuses to do so.

Turbo: Initially believed to be the ruler of the game Sugar Rush, King Candy is secretly Turbo, a racer from the old game TurboTime who was believed to have died after his game was permanently unplugged. Having stolen the throne from Vanellope Von Schweetz, the true ruler, Turbo turns her into a glitch and makes himself the ruler of her kingdom. While he is viewed as eccentric and flamboyant, yet jovial and benevolent, to his subjects, Turbo is extremely obsessive and possessive of his new royal status. He continuously lusts for power and authority and goes to great lengths to secretly abuse his position, not just by allowing the other racers to ruthlessly torment Vanellope, but especially by keeping Vanellope from racing so that she cannot regain the role he had stolen from her.

Bellwether: The epitome of the famous phrase “a wolf in sheep’s clothing”, Dawn Bellwether pretends to be sweet, meek, and friendly to successfully hide her true prejudiced, ruthless, embittered nature. Initially the overworked assistant mayor of Zootopia to its mayor Leodore Lionheart, Bellwether secretly hates him and all predators, viewing them as nothing more than savage, dangerous monsters. In her scheme to overthrow him, take control of the city, and drive all predators out of Zootopia, Bellwether becomes the leader of a secret organization of sheep terrorists who create a serum from night howlers to turn predators feral. This would give the illusion that they were biologically reverting back to their "primitive savage ways" and eventually be regarded as too dangerous for society, allowing only prey animals to take up the entire population. However, in her goal to become the mayor of Zootopia, rather than subjecting Lionheart to becoming savage, Bellwether instead develops her plot to ensure that he is removed from office and his positive reputation amongst the citizens is ruined, allowing her to rise to power in his place.

Magic Users

Maleficent: Known as The Mistress of All Evil, Maleficent is a ruthless tyrant who rules her own subjects at her home, the Forbidden Mountain. Using her dark magic, she continuously abuses her power and authority over her minions, particularly whenever they display incompetence and stupidity. This is shown when Maleficent flies into a rage and attacks them with her magic upon realizing that, over the last 16 years in their search for Aurora, they were only looking for a baby, not realizing in their idiocy that Aurora would be growing up.

Ursula: Known for her dark reputation as a sea witch, Ursula was banished from Atlantica by Triton. She explains in “Poor Unfortunate Souls” that she uses her magic to help merfolk attain their deepest desires and only imprisons them if they can’t keep their side of the bargain. However, after she takes Ariel’s voice away and turns the latter into a human to try and win Eric’s heart, Ursula reveals she has no intention of letting Ariel follow through with kissing Eric to remain human. She proves herself to be a tyrant because all she really does is backstab the merpeople with whom she makes deals in order to ensure that only HER desires are met! When she bargains with Triton so he will surrender himself to her in exchange for Ariel’s freedom, Ursula steals his crown and trident, then grows to giant size, declaring herself the ruler of the entire ocean.

Jafar: Unbeknownst to the Sultan of Agrabah, his Royal Vizier Jafar plots to take control of the kingdom, and he needs the Genie of the lamp from the Cave of Wonders to pull off this feat. Once the lamp is in his possession, Jafar succeeds with his first to become sultan. But after Jasmine and her father refuse to bow to him, he wishes to become the most powerful sorcerer in the world to have an even greater amount of power. During his brief reign, Jafar proves himself to be a tyrant by turning Agrabah into a dystopian wasteland, dressing the Sultan as a living marionette and allowing him to be abused by Iago, and making Jasmine his own slave girl.

Tyrants-Turned-Heroes

The Beast: From the time he is cursed and until he finally starts to soften, the spoiled behavior the prince had before his curse remains. He is aggressive, rude, impatient, and frequently and easily loses his temper when something annoys or irritates him. Primarily due to his short temper, the Beast acts like a tyrant towards his servants because he is mean and cruel to them as he gives them orders, which makes them deeply afraid of him. Only on some occasions do they openly rebel against him or talk back to him, such as Mrs. Potts ordering the Beast to act more like a gentleman around Belle, and both her and Lumiere deciding to feed Belle despite being told that she was not allowed to eat unless she ate with the Beast.

Kuzco: In the beginning, Kuzco is very arrogant, lazy, selfish, and self-absorbed, viewing himself as superior to all simply for being the emperor. He rules his empire completely without the best interest of his people and always seeks to have his way, never showing any concern over the chances things could turn out badly for other people involved. This is shown when he sets his sights on building his summer home of Kuzcotopia on the top of the hill where Pacha, Pacha’s family, and other villagers reside. Since the plan will only benefit himself, Kuzco shows absolutely no care or concern that destroying Pacha’s village to build Kuzcotopia will render the residents homeless.

Would-Be Tyrants

Gaston: From what I described about him in “Bride and Prejudice” with his growing obsession with Belle and his low, inferior views of women, there is no doubt in my mind that, had Gaston succeeded in marrying Belle and starting a family with her, he would have run his household like a tyrant. He would be very controlling to the point of being physically abusive to his wife in order to get her to obey every single one of his commands and orders. Like many of the tyrants I listed above, Gaston would undoubtedly use fear and intimidation to keep his wife in her proper place of being beneath him, and he would instill these same feelings on to his own children.

Yzma: Her ire drawn after Kuzco remorselessly fires her, a furious Yzma decides to kill him so that she can take over the empire. While Kuzco is initially selfish, callous, and uncaring towards his staff and people living in his empire, he learns to change his ways by the end of the film. Had Yzma succeeded in her goal, she would have been far more of a selfish, ruthless tyrant than Kuzco was at first. This is evident during her introduction scene, which is one of many times she governs the empire whenever Kuzco is not present. As a peasant complains to her that he and his family are suffering from limited food sources, Yzma spitefully says his problem is of no concern to her, and that the man should have realized this ahead of time.

Hans: While taking over as temporary ruler of Arendelle in both Elsa and Anna’s absence, Hans wins the hearts of the people by acting as a kind, caring, benevolent ruler during the harsh conditions brought on by Elsa’s magical winter. Though he reveals his true, dark nature to Anna and his plot to take control of Arendelle, the fact that he earned the trust and respect of the Arendellians suggest that Hans could truly have been a very worthy ruler. However, now that we have Frozen II and it revealed that Runeard was actually a malevolent tyrant behind the same kind of benevolent facade that Hans used, there is no doubt in my mind that had he succeeded in stealing Arendelle’s throne, Hans also would have become a ruthless, power-hungry, selfish tyrant in secret.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

All The Way Down: Seven

Thor shifted his weight from foot to foot and fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt. Behind him, finished, livable dwellings were silhouetted against the dawn sky. The warm pink light was flooding into the valley and Thor said a quiet prayer to the Norns that things would be settled. And that his people would find peace. 

Beside him, you stood waiting to welcome them. Thor might had preferred you dress… well. More femininely but. By the same turn, you were going to have work to do today. He supposed he should be thankful that you had bothered to wear one of your tailored frock coats. The silver fabric embroidered with white thread and pearls. Too fine for a day of moving but, fine enough to mark the occasion as important.

“What do your people say?” Thor asked. None of them really had much to do with him. But then, even when he’d first come, no one really paid him much mind. He’d been told once that the goings on at the big house didn’t concern them. But he couldn’t imagine anyone was too thrilled to deal with interlopers. 

You shrug and smiled a little, “More people mean each person can pay slightly less tax. And many hands mean light work.”

Thor smiled a little, “When was the last time you raised taxes?”

“Perhaps twenty years ago,” you muse, “There had been a drought and coffers were depleted so things needed to be built back up.”

Thor nodded and looked towards where he heard the caravan of people headed towards him. He exhaled slowly and glanced at you. You looked pleasant, even if you weren’t beaming. Though. You rarely, if ever, beamed about anything. That was too much outward emotion. At least in public. 

When Loki and Brunhilde appeared over the rise, Thor grinned. He’d missed them, more than he had thought that he would. 

“Brother,” Thor called, hailing him over, “What do you think?”

“I think I don’t know what this place is, but, it is lovely,” Loki said carefully, mindful that he didn’t know who you were, but that you had a wicked-looking dagger on your thigh.  

“I’ve always thought so,” Thor said, rocking on his heels. “This,” he said gesturing to you, “Is Y/n. She’s agreed to let us live here on the property she holds so long as we follow the outlined terms.”

“They’re good terms,” Loki said dismounting off his horse and giving you a gracious bow, “You’re  very generous and I’m thankful.”

You make a soft dismissive noise and gesture behind you to the start of a settlement, “Everyone deserves a place where they can feel safe,” you say calmly, already running out of patience with proceedings. “My father would not have turned his back and so I will not.”

Behind you, One of the sisters, Thor is not sure which one snorts derisively. And Though you don’t turn to acknowledge it, Thor knows that later, in private, you’re going to have a lot to say. You’re the matriarch of the family and you’re not terribly fond of being gainsaid. Especially not in public. That, Thor can understand. Very well. 

“Many of my people are waiting to show you where to find things, and Thor has all of the housing assignments,” you explain smiling a little. “If you need anything, we’ll be happy to help you, but I have to see to some other affairs.” You nod to Thor and the to Loki and Brunhilde before excusing yourself from the small square. 

Brunhilde watched as you wound your way up the path, your sisters following you, and raised an eyebrow at Thor, “Well. She certainly seemed to want us here.”

Thor snorted, “She’s just not got the social grace to do drawn out pleasantries. Or the patience to pretend that she has the social grace.”

“A woman after your own heart,” Loki said rolling his eyes. 

And Thor couldn’t help it. He shot him a look. More to keep him from warming to his theme and starting to ramble about how much Thor needed to take a wife.

“You didn’t,” Brunhilde gasped. 

“Not recently,” Thor said tightly, smiling as he waved people forward and started to welcome them, directing them towards their houses. 

Loki made a soft disapproving sound and Thor sighed, “It was centuries ago,” he protested. “And I thought she’d done the whole… taking a lover thing before.”

When the Valkyrie looked at him with something like disgust, “Thor-”

“I know!” Thor protested, “Believe me, I have been justly served.”

“Have you?” Loki asked smirking. 

“Yes,” Thor groused,” but I don’t have time to explain it to you now.”

Brunhilde snorted and redirected a child away from the woods and back towards the path to the houses. “I’m sure you will.”

___________

In your forge, you lay your jacket aside and start to stoke the fire. You needed to think. To breathe. And the best place to do that was in your forge. It was the way you’d always thought about things. 

Even in the earliest days. You found your peace laboring over making nails at the long work table while your father hammered away at the weapons you longed to learn to make.  But still. The task. The work. It lulled you into a state of calm that made your thoughts go from a flood to a trickle. 

So. You worked.

Beyond your forge and past the woods, you could hear the chaos of families moving. Kids crying from confusion. Kids laughing at the joy of having a new place to play. Women calling out. Men being boisterous.  It meant that they were safe. That maybe, for a while longer, your people would remain properly isolated. Properly safe. So long as there was a buffer in the way. 

“So-”

“No Maggie,” you say, not turning from the iron you had begun to heat. 

“You can’t tell me no,” She protested, “You don’t know what I’m going to ask.”

“I do not need to know,” you tell her, “This is not your house.”

“Our father-” she started. 

“No,” you correct, “My father. Who allowed your mother to stay here after she betrayed him.”

Maggie stopped, obviously fuming and you sigh. As a general rule, you don’t bring up ancient history. It doesn’t exist. But. If it gets Maggie to leave, you’re willing to do it. You don’t want to be pestered and you don’t want to hear her bitter and complaining voice. Not now. Not when you have so many other things to attend to.”

“Your sainted mother would have never,” she spat. 

“Perhaps,” you answer, “Perhaps not. I suppose I’ll never know, given that she died giving birth to me.”

Maggie, unwilling to let you dismiss her, drew herself up to her full height, “I may be a bastard,” she spat, “But at least I never had to pretend to be a boy.”

[thisaccisdead]

give up on a miracle - sanders sides au - chp. 1

pairing(s): as of now, romantic nicomas and platonic everyone else

warnings: lots of religious stuff

summary: patton, virgil, logan, and janus are angels in charge of answering prayers. when they find out the earth is scheduled to be destroyed in a week, their only hope for saving it is to set up two humans: thomas sanders and nico flores.

word count: 3.5k

notes: this is a based off of miracle workers but not an exact au, idk it’ll be fun, you don’t have to have seen the show, you just have to like silly angel shenanigans 

Please, God, let this somehow work out.

Thomas didn’t ask for miracles too often. Well—that was a lie, he probably prayed for some inconsequential thing everyday, but he rarely meant it the way he meant this one. The man at the mall felt like fate. He was beautiful, and according to his backpack he was gay, and he was just a few tables down, and... Thomas should have just said hi as soon as he had noticed him, but he had psyched himself out. Like always.

Usually that would be the end of the story, but as Thomas was headed for the exit, the man was there too. In front of him. Speaking to him.

Thomas was too caught off guard to process the first half of what he said—though he did register being given back his abhorrent carrot snack—and when he tuned back in, all he caught was:

“Uh, it’s okay! It’s probably a bit too nosy for me to ask anyway.”

“Uh, yeah! Super nosy! What’s wrong with you, man?” was the sentence that came out of Thomas’s mouth in response. He blamed his lips for coming up with it, because he knew his mind couldn’t have been involved.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the man smiled apologetically at him, and even that small, sheepish smile was so radiant… yeah, Thomas was mentally beating the shit out of himself. “Well, have a good night!”

So, now the fate-given man was headed somewhere else, and Thomas was about to lose him—probably forever—if he didn’t act. So, obvious answer: he had to act. But he just… couldn’t. Not without a sign at least.

Not without a push.

When no push came, Thomas told himself it wouldn’t have led anywhere anyway. He continued about his day, with only the slightest added weight in his chest.

•••

“Aw, Virge, we have to do something about this one!”

Virgil looked up from his own paperwork to see the prayer Patton had pulled up.

“‘Please, God, let this somehow work out,’” he read out dryly. “Hm, not very specific.”

“Oh, but you didn’t—c’mon, look—“ Patton waved his hand to replay the video of the scene. The figures popped up on the screen, and Patton was reminded all over again of the dopey, flustered expression of the human, Thomas, as he failed so miserably at talking to his mall crush. It was such a silly, hopeful wish—Patton’s favorite kind—and he couldn’t bear to see it go unanswered.

His fellow angel did not share this opinion, evidentially. “Nope. Nuh-uh. No way,” Virgil said, “Love prayers are stupid as shit, hardest of all, never work out. If this whole department’s getting shut down, I’d rather spend my last week answering achievable prayers.”

Patton frowned. His brown-dappled wings drooped as his excitement wavered. “Is that right, though?” he asked, “Should we really stick to… what? Finding lost wallets? Delivering extra sandwiches? Like we’ve done every year of this job? If this is all ending, I wanna finally do something that matters, Virge.”

Virgil looked betrayed. “Lost wallets do matter, Patton. Maybe they don’t end droughts, or heal hearts, but that doesn’t mean they don’t matter. If people wish for it, it matters to them. I always thought you agreed with me on that.”

Patton bit his lip. He did agree with Virgil, on some level, and on any other day he would have considered his words more carefully. But with the prayer department set to close down this very week, he had lost some of his filter. Maybe his ideas were far-fetched, but when he had joined the Department of Answered Prayers he had been hoping to do exactly that--end droughts, heal hearts.

“Virgil’s right,” chimed in Logan. Their manager made his way over, and took Patton’s tablet from his hands. He swiped upwards on the prayer, officially dismissing it as ‘impossible.’ “There is no need to feel bad, Patton. It’s not our fault humans mainly ask for impossible things. If they want impossible, they need God, and God doesn’t have that kind of time. If they want an extra sandwich… we can pull a few strings.”

Logan nodded approvingly to where Virgil was coding breezes on his tablet, screen open to a view of a rural town avenue. He was carefully, cautiously, innocuously blowing leaves into piles one-by-one. This process eventually cleared the front yard of a small house, just in time for a kind-eyed, middle-aged man to come home and cheer at the sight of the finished chore. He even did a stupid little dance to himself, and Patton saw the smallest smile tug at Virgil’s lips.

“I agree with Patton,” came a voice from over by the mini fridge. Janus was doing what he did best: sipping at the canned wine he wasn’t meant to have, not doing any work, and giving his opinion on everything anyway. “Let’s do something interesting. It’s not like it matters at this point.”

“What do you mean?” Patton squinted at him.

“Cuz the prayer department’s getting shut down, duh, what else have we been talking about?” Virgil answered.

“No,” Janus said, “Well—yes, but… you know why we’re getting shut down, right?”

Patton and Virgil tilted their heads at him, and Logan looked away. A smile appeared on Janus’s face, but not one of joy. One that had an edge, a venom in it. “Logan… you didn’t tell them?”

“It would only upset them,” the management angel replied, still not meeting Janus’s eyes.

“Yeah, because they’ll not be upset at all when they see Earth randomly explode in a few days,” Janus deadpanned.

“What?!” Patton and Virgil exclaimed in simultaneous dismay.

Logan glared at Janus. “Are you happy? Now we have to deal with this for the next week.”

“Earth can’t explode yet,” Virgil said matter-of-factly, “that’s not right. Right?”

Patton nodded emphatically. “We should’ve gotten at least a century’s notice! Or had it on a public schedule somewhere!”

“Yeah, God has to call it off. At least for now,” Virgil agreed.

“You want God to stop it?” Janus said with a laugh. “He didn’t even remember it was happening; it was His PA who told the management staff.”

“Yes, it was,” Logan narrowed his eyes at Janus. “How did you find out about it anyway?”

Janus opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Virgil cut in, “God’s not gonna do anything about it?”

“It’s been in His plan. Why would He need to change it?” Logan asked rhetorically, adjusting his large, round-framed glasses as he did so. It was a movement he made often when he was being a know-it-all.

“How’s Earth gonna die?” Patton asked, looking at the floor, still in denial. He had lived his life on Earth, he had been a human—they all had, before they died and became angels. It had been so long since he’d been alive, he couldn’t quite remember the feeling of it. The memory was blurred around the edges, but it still seeped warmth, like dough burning into bread over a fire. Now, the only connection he had to that sensation were the humans--the chance to watch them, how they lived such utterly flawed, full lives. He recalled Thomas’s hopeful expression.

“Asteroid,” Logan replied. He didn’t need to check his files to give the answer, his ink-blue wings stiff behind him--and that was when Patton knew, despite his cold, indifferent attitude, this news was weighing on him too.

“Like the dinosaurs. Well, bigger. But still unoriginal of Him,” Janus scoffed, checking his nails—well, more like checking his gloves, which seemed unnecessary. Something mournful crossed his face for a moment, but Patton couldn’t place what. “The dinosaurs were sad too.”

“You lived in the 19th century. You weren’t around for dinosaurs,” Logan stated, brow furrowed in confusion. Janus ignored him.

“An asteroid? He could prevent that so easily! Earth deserves to at least live to its natural end,” Patton said. He glanced to Virgil, hoping for backup, but his coworker seemed most focused on biting his black-polished nails into dust.

“Well, isn’t it the natural end if it was in His plan?” Logan asked, once again, rhetorically. He also adjusted his glasses again. Patton liked to think of himself as particularly nice, even for an angel, but he wouldn’t have minded seeing those glasses broken in that moment.

“I’m more interested in your claim that Earth doesn’t ‘deserve’ to end,” Janus smiled at Patton. It was a slippery kind of smile, one that he couldn’t grasp the intentions of. “Overall, it’s a dumpster fire of a planet, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, 99% of the prayers are literally impossible for angels to answer at this point.”

“Yeah, well, I know some angels who are too busy with their shitty wine to even try—“ Virgil began to complain, turning on Janus, but Patton was too busy having a revelation to pay much attention to it.

“That’s it!” Patton exclaimed, jumping up from his seat with a grin.

“Please, be more specific, Patton,” Logan sighed. “Define ‘it.’”

Patton was, once again, too busy to pay attention to this. He made for the doorway with haste, only tossing over his shoulder: “I’m going to meet God!”

•••

Logan, Janus, and Virgil made it to God’s office before Patton did. He wasn’t the best with maps, so sue him. The trio was waiting in the grand hallway for him, and he was thankful that they had decided to back him up, despite the fact they had no idea what he was doing. Even though the coworkers bickered their fair share, you couldn’t work as the only 4 angels in a crumbling department without a certain bond forming.

Patton gave them a grateful smile as he strolled past them and right up to the secretary’s desk. The secretary, who was… not present? He checked the name plaque. Engraved in the gold of it was: Mrs. Snuffles, but the ‘u’ had been scratched out and written over so that it was Mrs. Sniffles. Before Patton could even begin to be perplexed by this, a large orange tabby hopped up from the floor, where she had been hidden, and onto the desk.

The cat looked him in the eye, with a surprising amount of purpose, and meowed.

“Hello?” Patton asked, dumbfounded. “...Mrs. Sni—Snuffles?”

She meowed again, this time with an undercurrent of what Patton could only assume was impatience.

“I—“ Patton looked back at the group behind him, but they just shrugged. They were following his lead. That couldn’t be good. “We would like to schedule a meeting with God, please.”

Mrs. Snuffles trotted over to a stack of papers, and pushed the top one aside with a swipe of her paw. She looked up from it after a moment, and then jumped down from the table, going up to the gilded, arched doorway at the end of the hall. She started meowing loudly, and soon an angel with cardinal-red wings and a matching red suit jacket stepped out. He looked down at Mrs. Snuffles, then up at Patton.

“I’m terribly sorry, but God is not available right now. He’s very busy,” the angel explained with a polite smile, the kind that was trained and not felt, “and he will be until Earth explodes. Thank you, goodbye.”

“Oh,” Patton said dumbly. He maybe should have expected that.

Mrs. Snuffles hissed at the angel, and he sighed. “You really think they want to talk to Him?”

“We do!” Patton interjected.

“You think you do,” the angel replied, an undercurrent of bitterness to his tone.

“Same difference, right?” Patton said, giving the other a hopeful smile.

“Just let us in, Princey,” Virgil’s annoyed voice came from behind. “Don’t be an ass. At least not more of one than usual.”

Patton looked between the two of them. “You know each other?”

‘Princey’ gave Virgil a deadpan glare. “Fine. You want a meeting with God? Be my guest.” He stepped aside from the doorway, gesturing to it with a sarcastic flourish.

When no one else made a move, Virgil grumbled and pushed past Patton. The rest of the group followed. When they got to the door, Patton paused and turned to the red-winged man. “Princey—“

“Roman,” he corrected.

“Roman,” Patton repeated. He pointed at the cat curiously, “Mrs. ‘Sniffles’?”

Roman blushed. “I was allergic when I was alive.”

A resounding reply of “Me too!” went through the group, and they all turned to each other in mild surprise.

“It’s how I died!” Patton added cheerily.

“Huh,” Roman replied with a puzzled frown. He cleared his throat. “Well, good luck.”

“Thank you!” Patton said. He looked down at Mrs. Snuffles as well, “Thank you, too.”

She gave him a final, curt meow, and rubbed up to his legs, pushing his feet against the door. He laughed, turned to the others waiting for him, and they nodded. Roman opened the door, and gestured them in.

Patton didn’t know what he had expected God’s office to look like, but it was decidedly not what he found upon entering that door. He had expected something resembling the grand hallway leading up to it: golden statues, velvet carpet, ivory columns. And, sure, that seemed to be the basis of the office; it was everything that was added on that was surprising. The bookshelves were stacked exclusively with trashy magazines, the walls were covered in posters of boy bands and movie stars, and a side-room had been renovated into what appeared to be a personal Starbucks. Finally, in the center of it all, sitting on the sofa and watching TV, was:

“...God?” Patton asked unsurely.

The man--(should Patton call Him that?)--eyed the group from behind a pair of sunglasses. He didn’t bother to turn the TV off as He casually greeted, “Hey, babes! What’s up?”

“Um,” Patton glanced at his friends for help, but they were clearly just as lost as him. Well, not Janus; Janus seemed unbothered. This provided Patton some sense of comfort, enough for him to continue, “We wanted to ask about--”

“Hold that thought, hun,” God held up a finger. “Roman!”

Roman walked in, almost reluctantly, at the call. “Yes?”

“Be a peach and mute the TV, would you?” God asked, throwing His PA the remote. Roman caught it as if with practice, and pressed the mute button with a wry expression.

“Thanks, love you!” God said, then turned back to Patton. “What were we talking about?”

“Well--”

God tried to sip the frappe in His drink-holder, only to find it empty, and He interrupted again to say, “Roman, coffee alert! Mama needs His caffeine!”

Roman bit his lip, presumably to stop himself from letting out a sigh. When he walked to the Starbucks corner, he seemed to purposefully avoid eye contact with the group. Patton glanced at his friends, and found Virgil suppressing an amused grin, and Janus not bothering to suppress his.

“We wanted to ask about the end of the world,” Patton finally said.

God’s brow furrowed slightly. “End of the world? Oh! OH, that is coming up, isn’t it? When’s that again, Ro?”

Roman, from behind the coffee maker, replied, “7 and a half days.”

“Oo, fun!” God gasped, “That’s so soon! I totally forgot that was so soon, isn’t that crazy?”

“So crazy,” Roman agreed dryly, handing Him a new venti frappe.

“Right,” Patton said, almost at a loss, “So, you… want the world to end?”

God shrugged, using one finger to play with his coffee straw as he spoke. “It was in my plan, wasn’t it? Plus, I mean, y’know… Earth’s really, like, ‘ew’ right now, right? Like, sure, I COULD save it, and then I’d let the humans keep doing their little thing, but I don’t want that; they’re mostly messes. I wanna make… I dunno a new place with, like, more Idris Elba’s.”

“And you’re willing to kill the real Idris Elba for that?” Janus cut in. God looked him up and down critically, before asking,

“Hey, do I know you from something?”

“No,” Janus replied quickly, “Certainly not from Eden, and even if I was there, I wasn’t the snake. I’m a real angel, hush.”

Patton turned to him in confusion, but God just shrugged again, and said, “K, whatever. Anyway, yeah, what’d you gals wanna know about Earth again?”

“Um, we wanted you to, maybe… not… blow it up?” Patton asked.

“Hmm,” God hummed, “Thanks, but no thanks! Earth is gross, I’m just so over it, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Patton replied without thinking, unable to hide the frustration in his voice anymore, “If Earth’s messed up, all the more reason to be there for your children, and not just kill everything. It’s wrong.”

There was a ‘thunk’ against the floor, and Patton looked to see that Roman had dropped the old coffee cup he had been carrying to the trash. Logan and Virgil were staring at Patton with equally stricken expressions, and Janus’s face was unreadable. He suddenly realized what he had said. He then realized how many angels had fallen for saying much less.

God stood up slowly. He approached Patton until He was uncomfortably close.

 “Awe,” He pouted, “babe, I know it’ll be sad, but how am I supposed to change it now? It’s in the plan, hun. I’m sure you understand.” He patted his cheek once condescendingly--a touch that carried the pleasant warmth of a sunbeam--before He stepped back and took a long sip of His coffee. Patton didn’t break eye contact the whole time.

“I have an idea,” Patton said in a newly sunny tone--the type of overly kind, conversational tone that should be feared-- “How about a bet?”

“Are you for real?” God gaped at the continued insolence, somewhere between disbelief and delight. In the end, delight--or at least novelty--won. “Deal with the Devil is out, deal with God is in; OK, I’m into it!”

“You say it’s too hard to save Earth now? Impossible, even?” Patton asked challengingly. He heard a quiet gasp of realization from Logan, and when he glanced behind himself, he noticed Janus was smiling, as if impressed. This gave him enough confidence to continue, “Impossible, like it would be impossible for a few random angels to answer an unanswerable prayer?”

“Sweetie, I don’t know what you’re saying, but I love the way you’re saying it,” God waved His hand appreciatively.

Patton took Logan’s tablet from his hands. He scrolled to find the ‘Discarded Prayers: Impossible’ file. He held it out to God for proof as he concluded, “If we can answer one of these prayers before the end of the world, surely you can stop it from ending.”

“THAT’S your plan?! Pat, we can’t complete the possible prayers half the time,” Virgil exclaimed. He buried his face in his hands. “Earth’s dead.”

God, however, let out a dreamy sigh, holding one hand against His chest. Patton wasn’t sure if he was meant to feel like the ambitious hero or the prize dog at a pet show. “You know, I should say no…” God bit his lip with the same expression a suburban mother might have when she was about to cheat on her juice cleanse, “...but I never could resist a little twist! Ok, shake on it!”

God extended His hand, and Patton took it without hesitation.

“I, God, proclaim: Earth will not be destroyed next week if, and only if, an impossible prayer is answered.” As He spoke, His palm began to glow white, such that Patton had to look away for fear of being blinded. If God’s touch had been a sunbeam previously, it was now the whole sun, and Patton almost cried out from the burning heat. Technically, he didn’t have skin in the same way he did when he was alive, but he swore he felt it melting off in that grip.

Yet when God pulled away, there was no extra light in the room, no damage to his hand.

God smiled innocently. “Ok! Cute! So, what prayer you gonna choose?”

Huh. Patton hadn’t thought that far ahead. Maybe Virgil’s concern wasn’t so unwarranted. He looked down at the tablet he was still holding. His eyes scanned past several prayers that were beyond impossible--fix capitalism, no more YouTube ads, fix global warming, no more incels--until his eyes caught on just the thing. An unabashed grin overtook Patton’s face in realization,

“Oh, I know exactly what prayer we’re doing.”

•••

“Well, have a good night!”

Nico turned his back on the cute mall man after he said it, and he had to push down the urge to glance back a final time. He tried not to believe in true love—it was at best unlikely, and at worst an extremely problematic trope—but he was a writer, and a daydreamer, and when he spotted the man a few tables down at the food court… he just knew.

Ok, he didn’t know, there was no way to know that kind of thing—but he did want. He did hope. And he did, in a move that was unprecedented for him, pray:

Please, if anyone’s up there: I know it’s silly, but I want this so badly. And I know it’s basically impossible at this point but, maybe… if we meet again... let this somehow work out?

[some-triangles]

So what they’ve done at my station is to take away half of the cases (mail sorting stations, normally one per route) and stagger start times so that two routes share the same case.  I can’t remember the justification they put forward to do this and it serves, as far as I can tell, no purpose, other than to make it more difficult to get everyone in the same room at the same time to talk in the morning.  Upper management was supposed to come around to explain, but they haven’t.  The cases are still just as close to each other as they were, so it doesn’t help with distancing, and piling two routes’ worth of mail at a single case makes it more difficult and dangerous to move around.  I can’t imagine the delivery of the mail is in any way helped, or that this saves them any money.  It feels punitive. 

I mention this because I dreamed last night that they took away my case entirely and still expected me to do the job.  It was cathartic, in the dream, to yell at them about this - I woke myself up doing it - but in real life none of the people who make the decisions are around to complain to.   Our union is silent and largely absent.  

There’s a guy at my station who was shop steward for a while and used that position exclusively to enrich himself - he would trap management into breaking the rules, purposefully sandbagging his own route so that he never had the contractually obligated steward time he was owed, and he bled them for it.  He made a lot of money that year, and helped nobody.  I think about that, and the outrage one might feel about that, and then I think about the poisoners of this world - the people who make money by hurting people, and who have built industries around making money by hurting people, from coal and oil to sugar and tobacco to insurance and predatory lending to fruit company death squads and bottled water droughts.  The people who knew the harm they were doing, often decades before we did, and purposefully obfuscated it, and died rich, and left their money to their children.  I know where my coworker lives, and how he lives, and it’s not much, not great.  I think about the scale of these crimes.

I don’t want to push to be a shop steward, I really don’t.  The job is hard enough as it is and I’m not good at people or at remembering.  I’d rather step away from the tide and then step again when it keeps encroaching, entrusting other people to handle the big problem.  But I feel my old friends resentment and spite on my shoulder, telling me to fuck em up, so maybe, maybe.

[bbyx]

in your dreams - part one

Summary: Remus Lupin is head over heels for Narcissa, but she’s not allowed to date until her sister (y/n) has a boyfriend. As a solution, Remus enlists Sirius to become (y/n)’s boyfriend.                                                                        Pairings: reader x sirius, remus x narcissa, lucius x narcissa, james x lily Disclaimer: This is basically harry potter universe x 10 things i hate about you. You DON’T need to have seen the movie to understand bc this is basically a retelling of the story. Also some of the dialogue has been taken straight from the movie. ALSO in this story Narcissa and Bellatrix are NOT Sirius’s cousins.

Hogwarts. It was beautiful, breathtaking even from the train window. The great castle looms into view, and (y/n) Knightley gets slightly tearful at the fact that this is the beginning of her last year at Hogwarts. A year from now you would hopefully begin your training as a healer at St.Mungos. That is if your father didn’t marry you off before that. 

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the compartment door sliding open. A group of giggling girls pop their heads in, blasting a horrendously high pitched song from a portable cassette player.

“Hi we’re the Promenade ball committee! Make sure to buy a ticket. It’ll be a night to remember!” One of them says in a sugar sweet voice, handing you a purple flyer. You simply roll your eyes as an answer and the girls leave, mumbling to themselves. You manage to hear a what a bitch through the high pitched singing. You glance down at the paper. It reads:

Promenade ball! Hogwarts class of 1978

May 22nd - 8:00 to 12:00

Tickets : 10 galleons each

You scrunch the paper into a ball and throw it out the open window. 

Balls were stupid anyways.

Remus walked into Professor Myriads office, the head of Gryffindor house. He’s missed Hogwarts. Spending one year abroad at Ilvermorny was a great experience but it couldn't compete with the beauty of Hogwarts. In one year, so much had changed yet it still felt the same way it had in his first year. Strange but familiar.

“Remus Lupin. Welcome back! I hope you enjoyed your stay in America. Now I know you remember this school like the back of your hand but it is a Hogwarts rule that any returning students must be shown around the premises again. I’ve assigned Peter Pettigrew to be your guide for today.” She says motioning to Peter standing outside, waving excitedly. “You may go to class now.” The silver haired woman said, dismissing him quickly. Remus reached down for his bookbag when a shadow stood leaning in the doorway. 

“Padfoot!”

“Moony! Missed you mate.” Sirius and Remus embraced each other tightly, Professor Myriad cleared her throat. 

“Sirius Black. I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual. You better not get in trouble this year if you want to graduate.” She gave him a disapproving glance. He answered with a charming smile.

“Only so we can have these moments together. Should I, uh, get the lights?”

“Oh very clever Mr. Black. That’ll be ten points from Gryffindor.”

“Remus! Oh we’ve missed you so much. Tell me how it was. How were the states? Good god, so many things have changed in the past year.” Peter said, spitting out more questions than Remus could handle.

“It was nice, Ilvermorny was very laid back. They study native magic and lots of non verbal spells. I’ll tell you more at dinner.”

“Allright, let me give you the breakdown, even though you know most of this stuff.” Peter said.

They begin to walk around the grounds.

“Over there you’ve still got your basic beautiful people.” He motions to a group of students sitting under a tree. “To the left we have the coffee kids. A new developpement since Dippet allowed a coffee machine in the Great Hall.”

“Interesting.” Remus said, looking at the students who couldn’t seem to sit still.

One of them knocked over his cup, filled with rich brown liquid, onto the other’s lap. “Whoa”

“That was a Costa Rican, asshole!”

“Very edgy.  Don’t make any sudden moves around them.” Peter added. 

They now approached a few students dressed in large hats and leather boots.

 “These guys…” Peter started.

“Wait wait.  Let me guess.  Cowboys?”

“Yeah, ever since that muggle movie Grayeagle came out.”

“Who would have thought that I would see more cowboys back at Hogwarts than the US.”

They now neared a group of students sitting on the grass, scribbling on parchment furiously.                

“These are your future Ministers. Hey guys.  How ya doin’?” Peter waved to the group. They rolled their eyes at him and went back to they’re books.

“Yesterday I was their god.” Peter said wistfully.

Remus chuckled, he had missed this atmosphere. “What happened.”

“Bogie Levenstein started a rumor that I...that I used an enchanted quill on my OWL’s.”

“Did you?” Remus asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not the point.” Muttered Peter.

“So they kicked you out?” Remus continued.

“Hostile takeover.  But don’t worry.  They’ll pay.  Now over here…”

“Merlin’s sake.” Remus whispered as a beautiful, creamy skinned dark haired girl walked by.

 “What group is she in?”

“The “don’t even think about it” group. That’s Narcissa Knightley.  Fifth year.” Peter said, shaking his head at his friend. Remus' mouth was still agape as she walked past him with her friend.

“Yup, see, there’s a difference between “like” and “love”.  Because I like my wand, but I love my Snakeskin backpack.” Narcissa explained to the other girl.

“But I love my wand.” Her friend says clutching her wand to her chest.

“That’s because you don’t have a snakeskin backpack.” Narcissa said, like it was the most obvious thing. Her friend looks enamoured by her wisdom.

“Oohhh.”

“Listen. Forget her.  Incredibly uptight father, and it’s a widely known fact that the Knightley sisters aren’t allowed to date.” Peter said, shaking his Remus's shoulder.

“Uh huh...yeah.”

At dinner later that night, Remus couldn’t keep his gaze off the enchanting girl at the Slytherin table.

“Earth to Moony!” James said between mouthfuls.

“Mate, we haven’t seen you in months. Talk. Or would you rather go join the Slytherins.” Sirius says, glaring at the green robed students.

“He has a thing for Narcissa Knightley.” Remus gave Peter a death glare.

“She’s pretty, but not as pretty as Lily Evans.” James sighed, looking at the auburn haired girl.

“Prongs, you're still running after her? It’s been, what, three years of her constantly rejecting you.” Remus chuckled.

“At least Lily’s allowed to date.” James retorted.

“You guys are pathetic.” Sirius said, grinning cockily, knowing he could get any girl at Hogwarts easily.

“Okay then.  What did everyone think of the Tales of the Wizard-Goblin war?” Professor Binns, Hogwarts only ghost professor, asked.

“I loved it. The part with Ginnamora was soooo romantic.” A clueless girl sighed.

“Romantic?  Buckthorn?!  He was an abusive alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Giraf Abbott trying to nail his leftovers.” (y/n) said to the girl, earning eyerolls from the other students. 

Lucius Malfoy chuckles cockily. “As opposed to a bitter self-righteous hag who has no friends?”

Giggles erupt through the room. (y/n) doesn’t turn around to face him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d pissed her off.

“I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time.”

Just then, a dark haired boy strolls confidently inside the classroom.

“What’d I miss?” Sirius asked.

“The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.” You answered, gritting your teeth furiously.

“Good.” He turned around and went back out of the room.

“Hey, hey!” The ghost professor looked like he was about to go after him but decided to stay put.

“Uh,Professor.  Is there any chance we could get (y/n) to take her calming drought before she comes to class?” Lucius said, high fiving his fellow slytherins.

“Mr.Malfoy, someday you’re gonna get hexed and I’m not gonna do a thing to stop it.  And Miss. Knightley.  I want to thank you for your point of view.” Professor Binns stated. (y/n) smiled to herself.

Take that Malfoy.

“I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of pureblood oppression.  It must be tough.” Professor Binns' words wiped the grin right off her face. (y/n) thanks Merlin that Lucius Malfoy, with his inflated ego, couldn’t see her face. Professor Binns continues.

“But the next time you storm around the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures crusading for better house elves, or whatever it is you wealthy purebloods complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a ghost!”

 His normally monotone voice was now strident. Never in your six years at Hogwarts had you ever heard Professor Binns get so riled up. The whole class was taken about by his sudden burst of emotion. You quickly recover from your slight shock.

“Anything else?”

“Ten points from Gryffindor.  Go to your head of house.” Professor Binns stated, sounding a little brittle.

“What?!  Professor Binns!” You plead but he’s already started scribbling on the chalkboard. (y/n) storms out, making sure to hit Lucius Malfoy with her bag on the way.

Professor Myriad was scribbling a letter when you reached her office, knocking on the doorway to make your presence known. The silver haired woman lowered her glasses as you sat down in a crimson chair.

“So I hear you were terrorizing Professor Binns‘s class.  Again.”

“With all due respect expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action.” You say, picking at your nails.

“The way you expressed your opinion to Richard Crabbe? By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, in case you're interested.” She remarqued, mentioning a particularly nasty quidditch fight between (y/n) and that idiot Crabbe.

“I still maintain that his broom malfunctioned and he kicked himself in the balls.” You answer cooly, trying your hardest not to let any emotion seep through your face.

Professor Myriad fumbled. “The point is (y/n)...People perceive you as somewhat …” 

“Tempestuous?”

“"Heinous bitch" is the term used most often.” She states simply.

How flattering, Professor.

“You might want to work on that. Try being more like your sister.” 

You raised your eyebrows at her comment because the woman clearly had no idea what she was getting into.

“Tell me Professor, which sister are we talking about? Bellatrix? Who was married off to some greasy pureblood the day after she graduated. Andromeda? Who followed her heart but was shunned from the family. Or Narcissa? Who at sixteen still, for the love of god, cannot tie her shoelaces.” 

(y/n) rises from her chair and says, in her most sarcastic tone  “As always, thank you for your excellent guidance.” before strolling out of the tiny office.

Lucius and his friends were sprawled in their usual spots under a tree. Someone in the group mumbles “Virgin alert” as Narcissa and Josie walk past. Lucius’s attention is immediately fixed on the innocent looking brunette. The girls notice him and wave shyly.

“Looking good ladies.”

“They’re outta reach, even for you.” Simon Nott  said in a sing-song voice.

“No one’s out of reach for me.” Lucius says, sizing his friend up.

“You wanna put money on that?” Simon questions, leaning back against the tree. Lucius glances at Narcissa who’s laughing with a group of fifth year students,

“Money I’ve got.  This I’m going to do for fun.”

From across the courtyard, Remus, James and Peter observe the way Lucius Malfoy is eyeing Narcissa, like a tiger watching his prey. Remus feels strangely protective of her, wanting to protect her from Lucius’s slimy paws. He gazed at her as she giggled, her dimples showing.

“Mate, look at her.” He said in a voice soft with affection.

James is clearly unimpressed. “Is she always so...vapid?”

“How can you say that?  She’s totally…”

“Conceited?”Peter leered.

“What are you talking about Wormtail?  There’s more to her than you think. I mean, look... look at the way she smiles. And look at her eyes, man.  She’s totally pure.  I mean, you’re missing what’s there.”

“No, Moony.  No. What’s there is a snotty little Princess creating a strategically planned appearance to make guys like us realize we can never touch her, and guys like, uh…” Peter fumbled, looking across the courtyard. “...Lucis, realize they want to. She, my friend, is what we’ll spend the rest of our lives not having. Move on.”

“No.” Remus pouted stubbornly.

“Move on.” James quipped, repeating Peter’s words.

“No! You’re wrong about her.  You’re so wrong.” Remus grumbled back.

“Alright.  I’m wrong?  You wanna take a shot?  Be my guest. She’s actually looking for a Mermish tutor.”

Remus’s eyes light up. “Are you serious?  That’s perfect!”

“Do you even speak Mermish?” James questioned. Remus flashed his bright teeth.

“Well no.  But I will.”

[mrlnsfrt]

Elijah and The Widow

This post is part two of our Becoming Elijah series. You can read and listen to part 1 here.

Brief Review

If you were simply reading the Bible from Genesis to Revelation in order the first time you would become aware of Elijah would be in 1 Kings 17. He bursts into the story unannounced with a message of judgment from God. This message was also a direct challenge to Baal, the god many were beginning to worship who supposedly brought rain.

Elijah faithfully delivers the short message and God tells him to run and hide by a brook. We do not know how long Elijah was hiding but during that time he was fed by ravens twice a day and drank water from the brook. As time goes by, days, weeks, months, years perhaps, the water level at the brook continually drops, making it increasingly difficult for Elijah to drink from it. Eventually, the brook dries up because there has been no rain in the land.

Emotional Impact

I invite you to place yourself in the shoes of Elijah for a moment. Imagine being faithful to God and doing exactly as you’re told, only to have life continually become more and more difficult. Elijah finds himself hiding in the wilderness, in isolation because he is a wanted man. We do not know how long he was living by the brook or how comfortable his accommodations were. I imagine they were not the most comfortable he had ever experienced in his life. Life was hard. I cannot imagine what it must be like to be isolated for long periods of time. I know it is good to spend time alone in nature, but I have to admit I do not find it easy to do.

However, Elijah is not the first or the last person God called or caused to spend some time in a wilderness. Moses fled from Egypt and spend 40 years caring for sheep (Acts 7:23-30, Exodus 3:1). David spent years in the wilderness as well, caring for sheep (1 Samuel 16:11-13; 17:15, 20); and avoiding King Saul (1 Samuel 22:1-2, 23:14; 24:1, etc.). In the New Testament, we have Jesus being led by the Spirit into the wilderness (Matthew 4:1; Mark 1:12; Luke 4:1). Apparently, God uses wilderness experiences to equip His servants for service. The question then becomes are we willing to go through that training. When God sends us to the wilderness, do we spend time there learning what God wants to teach us, or do we give up and walk away?

How often are we in a hurry to do something great for God and in that hurry we fail to be properly equipped for the task He is calling us to do? Could we be struggling today because we avoided the wilderness experience, or perhaps are we currently living our wilderness experience?

Maybe COVID has caused you to feel like you’re all alone, so even though you may be living in a city, in your own home, you feel alone, isolated, and abandoned by God?

Is God trying to teach you something? Can God bring some good out of this situation? What can we learn from our wilderness experience? Instead of becoming bitter and angry towards God, what if we take this moment to reconnect with God and more intentionally seek His will?

Spending time in the wilderness is not comfortable, but it can be very beneficial for our souls. Taking a break, slowing down, having to deal with the discomfort and challenges, and hardships that accompany being in the wilderness can be a blessing in the life lessons we learn and the insights we gain about God and life. Our time in the wilderness can be a time of learning and growth even if it seems like a waste of time.

But how long do we have to stay in the wilderness? God lets us know.

The Word of the LORD came

Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “Arise, go to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and dwell there. See, I have commanded a widow there to provide for you.” - 1 Kings 17:8-9 NKJV

We are tempted to believe that God is either not paying attention or that He does not have a plan simply because He does not make all the details of His plan available to us from the very beginning. God told Elijah to go hide by the Brook Cherith and Elijah obeyed. But God did not tell Elijah how long he was supposed to stay there. Maybe Eliah thought he would be there the whole time, maybe Elijah did not expect the drought to last as long as it had. Perhaps Elijah was tempted to believe God had forgotten about him, except he knew that God remembered because his food was provided twice a day every day. How would you have felt if you were in a similar situation? On the one hand, there is a clear sign that God is providing for your needs, in Elijah’s case the ravens bringing him food each day. On the other hand, there is a problem you see looming on the horizon, and you feel like God is not doing anything about it. In Elijah’s case the water level of the brook continues to drop, every day it gets more difficult for him to drink from the brook until it’s dry.

Only then the word of the LORD comes to Elijah.

You could argue that God didn’t tell Elijah anything earlier because it was not like Elijah could do anything about it anyway. But are we comfortable with that? Can our faith handle not knowing all the details? Can our faith survive waiting until the last minute before God reveals to us what the next step should be? Can we trust in God solely based on what He has already done for us, based on what He is doing for us? Is our faith strong enough to survive not knowing everything?

I am not talking about blind faith. I am talking about an informed faith, but a faith that does not have all the details concerning everything. Personally, I find it challenging. It is humbling when I get asked questions and I have to say that I don’t know, that it’s unclear, or that the Bible is silent on it. But I still find this healthier than coming up with personal theories and reading them into the biblical text or even into the will of God. By this I mean I would rather say I don’t know than to say that my personal theory is what God is going to do, or is doing when God has not made it clear. I hope we can all learn from Elijah’s story so far that sometimes we don’t know the details until it’s time to act on them. Until God makes things clearer we continue to faithfully follow what He has revealed. We should be very careful about making prophetic proclamations about end-time events, especially when we share personal views as if they were biblical truths.

Also, if you ever talk with me and I agree that your scenario is a possibility, please don’t tell others that I agree with your view, I only agree that it is a possibility, but there are many possible ways that the future will take place. Instead of focusing on that the next step will be one day in the future, how about we focus on what God has called us to do today, this week, this year?

Elijah remained at the brook until God told him to leave.

Zarephath

Zarephath was a small town in Phoenicia, located between Tyre and Sidon. Interestingly, the text mentions that Zeraphath belonged to Sidon, this is significant because Jezebel was a Sidonian princess (1 Kgs 16:31) which means that her father was the ruler of the territory where Zarephath was located. So God told Elijah, who was running away from Jezebel, to go hide in her home country, a land under the control of her father, a land where its inhabitants officially worshipped Baal.

I imagine Elijah feeling relief that God was finally revealing to him His plans and what he should do next. I also imagine Elijah wondering if it would be better to hang out by the dry brook for a bit longer. How does the expression go, out of the frying pan and into the fire? That might have been how Elijah felt at first. But don’t worry, it gets worse.

A Widow

Not only is God telling Elijah to travel to a gentile land where Baal worship is the official religion, but God is also telling Elijah that a widow will provide for him. Widows constituted some of the poorest most helpless people in society. Most of the time widows were not able to earn a respectable living with begging and prostitution generally being their only source of livelihood.

Another detail that caught my attention is the fact that God knew the widows who lived outside the borders of Israel. If God had commanded this widow living in Zarephath to provide for Elijah could this be evidence that God cares for everyone? I would not have expected God to use a poor widow from a pagan nation to provide for one of the greatest prophets of the Old Testament. I imagine this widow must have been seeking God, and God revealed Himself to her in some way and now God was sending her a prophet. I love how God takes this person that most would have considered forsaken and cursed by God and uses her to provide for His prophet.

I love how God uses people who don’t have it all together, people who are struggling and makes them a part of His plan to save the world.

Elijah Obeys

So he arose and went to Zarephath. And when he came to the gate of the city, indeed a widow was there gathering sticks. And he called to her and said, “Please bring me a little water in a cup, that I may drink.” - 1 Kings 17:10 NKJV

I am amazed by Elijah’s faithful obedience. Elijah does not question God or complain even though his life keeps getting more difficult at each step. It seems to me that all Elijah has been getting for his faithfulness is more challenges. But he simply obeys God and sure enough as he comes to the gate of the city he sees a widow. I am not sure about Elijah, but maybe many of us would expect this to be a wealthy widow, maybe she has a nice house with a view, a pool, a well-watered garden with lots of fruits and veggies growing. Maybe after roughing it by the brook Elijah had earned a well-deserved vacation. Now he will likely get to finally sleep in a bed and have a roof over his head and he eat something that was not brought by birds. I would be excited to join civilization again, or I would have been if it had been a city that belonged to Sidon. I would have been constantly worried if anyone had figured out that I was the prophet that queen Jezebel wanted dead. What if a neighbor decided to collect on a possible bounty that could have been set for me? Or what if someone simply wanted to get on the good side of the king by helping his daughter?

I don’t really know what Elijah was thinking, but I like to place myself in his shoes and try to imagine how difficult this could have been for him. What I do know is that Elijah calls to the widow and asks for water, which I imagine must have been really valuable at this time. I bet people were being very careful with their water usage during this drought.

Bread, please!

And as she was going to get it, he called to her and said, “Please bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.” - 1 Kings 17:11 NKJV

I can imagine Elijah asking a widow for water, she does not say a word but goes to get the water, then he interrupts her to ask for bread. I don’t know about you, but I struggle a bit with asking for help. I don’t mind asking for help to help someone else. If someone needs help I don’t mind asking others to join me in helping someone else. But when it comes to asking for myself, I hate it, many times I would rather go without than bother someone else with my needs. I believe this probably stems from pride, and God has been helping me with this by repeatedly placing me in situations where I need to ask others for help. But still, I struggle with the idea of asking a poor widow not just for water but also for bread. Especially in the middle of a terrible drought. Everyone is struggling. Brooks are drying up, crops are failing, animals are dying, how could I ask a poor widow for water and bread?

No Bread

So she said, “As the Lord your God lives, I do not have bread, only a handful of flour in a bin, and a little oil in a jar; and see, I am gathering a couple of sticks that I may go in and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.” - 1 Kings 17:11-12 NKJV

The widow humbly informs Elijah of her plans for the future which consist of baking one last meal for herself and her son and slowly starving to death. If she was lucky she would not have to witness the death of her son, but on the other hand, would she really want her son to have to watch her die? This is just a terrible situation regardless of how you look at it.

I imagine Elijah saying, “Sorry, never mind. I must have confused you with someone else. Is there another widow in this town, someone with a big house, perhaps a pool and lots of delicious food?

On a more serious note, why would God ask a widow who does not have enough even for herself to provide for His prophet? After all, is it not God’s job to provide for His servants?

I believe the lesson here is that God prefers to work through us to bless each other and He can use anyone, even the poorest among us. Even the person who barely has enough to survive can be used by God to bless others. We are blessed as we go out of our way to help others. This blessing is not only for the wealthy, it is not only for those who have access to more resources. We are all called to do something. Don’t count yourself out simply because you don’t have as much as someone else. You can also help. When God calls on you to help He will bless you in order for you to be a blessing to others.

Do not fear

And Elijah said to her, “Do not fear; go and do as you have said, but make me a small cake from it first, and bring it to me; and afterward make some for yourself and your son. For thus says the Lord God of Israel: ‘The bin of flour shall not be used up, nor shall the jar of oil run dry, until the day the Lord sends rain on the earth.’ ” - 1 Kings 17:13-14 NKJV

The widow has legitimate reasons to be concerned, but Elijah tells her to not fear, she is to obey God and trust Him to provide for all her needs. If he makes God a priority in her life, she does not have to be afraid. When we find ourselves in God’s will, we have nothing to fear. We minister not because we have an abundance but rather because God calls us to. We step out in faith to bless those around us, trusting that as we do the will of God, He will take care of our needs.

He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it. - Matthew 10:39 NKJV

Jesus makes it clear, we find life by giving it up. I don’t think He means reckless living or suicide, but rather a life where the focus has shifted from self to other. A life where obeying God is more important than my selfish desires. This is not an easy life, but it is the only life worth living.

If I truly believe that God is my provider, that He not only created me but also redeemed me. If I believe that God loves me beyond anything I could ever hope to comprehend, and if I believe that God calls me to bless those around me, why should I be afraid of stepping out in faith? If God is calling me to help others learn about Him why should I be afraid?

Trust

So she went away and did according to the word of Elijah; and she and he and her household ate for many days. The bin of flour was not used up, nor did the jar of oil run dry, according to the word of the Lord which He spoke by Elijah. - 1 Kings 17:15-16NKV

"While Jezebel feeds the prophets of Baal in Israel (1 Kgs 18:19), the Zarepthathite widow feeds Elijah, the prophet of Yahweh, in Sidon (1 Kgs 17:13–16)"  -- The Lexham Bible Dictionary.

We need to make sure we are following the will of God and not the will of humans, our own, or our spiritual leaders’. Spend time in prayer, read the Bible, but once you become convinced of what God is calling you to do, go for it trusting God to provide for you. Trust in God and live out your faith in service for those around you. Do not be afraid of ministry. Do not be afraid of helping others. Do not be afraid of sharing the love of God. Trust in God, don’t be afraid, and do what He is calling you to do.

Let your love for God guide your life, not fear. Do not focus on the problems, and reasons for you to not get involved, look to God, claim His promises, do not be afraid, trust in God, and get involved in service for the benefit of those around you.

God is faithful.

You do not have to be afraid.

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (7)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3000

A/N: Yes, I know it’s Monday and I’m sorry.

[Upstate New York, May 2024]

What the fuck?

“What the actual fuck? Oh, my God!”

Can you hear me? You thought tentatively.

Yes, Loki’s response came and it felt like a great rainstorm after a long drought. Can you hear me?

You nodded enthusiastically. It had been a long time since you first lost connection with him, but that didn’t stop you from reaching out almost everyday for almost a century. This is fucking insane!

You threw your arms around Loki and he returned the hug.

“So,” you cleared your throat and pulled away. “What— how did this happen?”

“I can only begin to guess the mysteries of soulmates.”

“Should we tell the others?” 

“We don’t have to,” Loki said with a glint in his eyes.

“You are the God of Mischief,” you agreed and the two of you shared a smirk. “Wanna bet on who finds out first?”

“Of course, is there a prize?”

“Satisfaction in knowing you won,” you supplied and Loki nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t count if you tell them yourself, or you lose. I call dibs on Max!”

“Alright, then. I chose Steve.”

“Really? Steve can be very fucking oblivious at times.”

“Fine, my brother.”

“Nope, you can’t change your guess.”

“Mr. Stark is calling a meeting in Conference Room Two,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced.

“Perfect timing. Do you want to have some fun?”

Loki went into the conference room first, talking something about always being last, and sat in the back. You walked in with your group five minutes later and sat a few seats down from him.

Just pretend we’re still angry at each other, you reminded him.

“Where did you go?” Max whispered to you. “Did you have a talk with Loki?” All four of you looked back at Loki who was glaring at you. “I guess it didn’t end well.”

A bit over the top, isn’t it? You raised an eyebrow. You’re usually not that obvious.

Over the top? Please. Loki rolled his eyes. I know what I’m doing.

“So, Capsicle, Thor, and Nat questioned our Kree friend and we got nothing on where they took Mr. Derik and others, most likely,” Tony began and everyone looked to the front. “Does anybody else want to take a chance at cracking him?”

“I guess I will,” you said and shrugged.

“Great! Anyone else?”

“S what you’re basically asking is if anyone else wants to speak with the homicidal alien hell bent on killing me?” Liam crossed his arms and shook his head. “Yeah, it’s a hard fucking no from me.”

Everyone shook their heads too.

You don’t want to talk to him? You glanced over your shoulder to see Loki join in on the head shaking.

“Okay, (Y/N), you’re up.” Steve stood and handed you a piece of paper. “This is a list of questions we’ve been trying to get out of him.”

“Wait, that was it? That was the meeting?”

“Uh, yeah?”

You sighed and looked at the list of questions. “Take me to the prisoner.”

Steve led you from the room. “Don’t you need that?” He pointed at the paper you had left on the table.

“Nah, I got it all right up here,” you said and tapped your temple. “I’ve got a good memory. Part of my Terrigenesis upgrade.”

Can you get the paper for me? You asked Loki.

I thought you had it all in your mind. He replied, but you heard the paper crinkle behind you as he picked it up.

Well, just in case. Also, you’re in my mind so technically it’s in my head.

Steve led you to the lower levels of the compound, past many locked doors and through halls with cameras every few feet. You entered a room that reminded you of the viewing side of an interrogation room. Security monitors covered one wall and a window looked into another room. The room where the Kree was locked up.

“Is he behind glass?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Heavily reinforced glass that we all tried to get out of,” Steve assured you. “Nat couldn’t find some clever way to escape and neither Thor or Tony’s repulsors could leave a scratch. Don’t worry. We wouldn’t put you in any danger.”

You nodded and he unlocked the door for you to go into the other room. The Kree looked up when you walked in, the already present sneer only grew bigger.

“Inhuman scum. You’ve come to try to talk to me too?”

“It seems that I have.” You widened your stance and crossed your arms. “Where are you keeping the Inhumans you’ve captured?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would. That’s why I’m fucking asking.”

Any advice on how to crack a Kree? You asked Loki.

They are very proud but I know that lots of them, especially the Reapers, aren’t the smartest, he responded quickly. If you’re safe, you can try to aggravate him.

“We will crush every single Inhuman abomination.”

“Okay, so then tell me where you’re taking the ones you don’t kill. You know, speed up the process a bit.”

“I will not fall for your tricks. I will not tell you.”

“So you admit the Kree cannot take on the Inhumans?”

“No, I am not saying—”

“Really?” you cut him off. “Cause it really sounds like you’re saying the Kree are too fucking cowardly to take us on.”

“The army will be able to crush you and all life on this miserable rock you call home.”

That piqued your interest, but you managed to keep your face neutral and rolled your eyes.

They’re building an army, you told Loki while, out loud, you said, “Yes, we already knew about your so called ‘army.’ Maybe you actually don’t know shit. They didn’t trust you enough to tell you anything important.”

The Kree rushed up to the glass and started punching it. “I know things. I know Inhumans were a mistake, an imperfection in the Kree’s proud history. I know you cannot beat the Kree and your friends. I know.”

The door opened behind you and you saw Steve dash in.

“I’ve got it under control,” you whispered to him. “I’m fine.”

The supersoldier hesitated before he nodded and eyed the Kree warily while he walked out of the room.

“You should leave too,” the alien slammed his fist against the glass.

“I’m not fucking done with you,” you snapped and turned back around to glare at him. “Just one more question. Where did you get the vibranium for your weapons?”

“Is that what you call it? Why do you need to know?”

“Just curious. Though, you can admit you don’t know your history.”

“We forge our weapons on a foreign planet that has ever growing veins of the metal. Are you finished now?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m done.” 

Steve opened the door for you and you left the Kree in his prison.

���What was that thing he said about fighting your friends?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but it probably has something to do with the Inhumans they took and the army they’re building.”

🌹

The next few days, everyone spent most of their time questioning the Kree prisoner and searching for the location of the captured Inhumans. Of course the Avengers didn’t stop their training, and, of course, all of you had to participate.

“I’m going to put everyone into pairs,” Natasha told the group. “This training is going to help you learn how to fight without your powers. That means no powers during the sparring.” She looked at your friends, Wanda, and Loki who looked like he really didn’t want to be there.

I don’t want to be here. I know how to fight, even without my powers. 

My powers are literally fighting, you pointed out. What does she want me to do? You heard Loki huff in response.

“Izzy and Wanda, Max and Liam, (Y/N) and Loki.”

“Um, not that I’m complaining,” you spoke up. “But why those pairs?”

“Based on your fighting history and experience as well as the fact that I just want to see you beat Loki.”

“Okay, yeah. I’m up for that.” You shrugged and smirked at him.

Everyone moved to their sparring mats. Loki made eye contact with you and you raised an eyebrow.

Confident, are we? he smiled at you.

“Okay, everyone get into your beginning stances and begin whenever you're ready.”

You didn’t hesitate and lunged at Loki. He blocked your first punch and retaliated with a few jabs of his own. You were able to dodge him and move around behind him. He whipped around and ducked in time to miss another punch sent by you. While he was low, he was able to kick your legs out from under you.

Sorry. He smiled down at you and held out his hand to help you back up.

Don’t be sorry. We’re sparring. You took his hand, but instead of standing up, you pulled him to the ground and straddled his waist to keep him down. And I haven’t given up yet.

Fine, you win.

You’re not going to try harder? You cocked your head and stood up.

I don’t want to hurt you. 

Trust me when I say that you won’t.

You went a couple more rounds until you stopped and glared at him.

Stop pulling your punches, I can take it. You crossed your arms.

I don’t want you to be petty later if I hurt you.

I am not petty.

One time your sister spilled some wine on you, you spent a month spilling liquids on her until your mother made you stop.

You remembered that incident. Mary had spilled wine onto one of your favorite dresses. You had never wanted to stab someone in the face before that, but when your mother let her off the hook, you thought a knife in her face would be a wonderful accessory. Somehow, Loki managed to talk you out of it, so you resorted to spilling anything on Mary whenever you could. Your mother had finally intervened when you had dumped a vase’s contents over Mary’s head. Loki had gotten a kick out of it.

Okay, maybe I did. You shrugged.

“Hey,” Nat shouted and drew your attention to her. “Are you guys going to resume sparring or are you going to keep staring into each other's eyes?”

“Oh, um, Loki was going easy on me. I want a new partner.” You took a step back.

“Did you at least knock his ass to the ground?”

“Of course I did. Most rounds ended like that.”

“You can spar with me then.” Nat stepped onto the mat and Loki rolled his eyes and stepped away. Everyone gathered around the mat to watch.

This time Nat attacked first so you were on the defensive. You blocked her rapid hits and kicks. Every once in a while one of you would land a hit, but most times, punches were blocked easily. Nat seemed to have the upperhand for a while until you grabbed her arm the next time she threw a punch. You pulled her forward, trying to catch her off balance, but she used the momentum to push you to the mat.

Your back hit the mat for the second time that day but you rolled out of the way before Nat could pin you down. You stood back up and the two of you were at it once again, constantly alternating between offensive and defensive.

You didn’t notice anyone enter the gym until you heard,

“Who let them spar? It’s never going to end.”

Both you and Nat froze mid punch.

“Hi Steve, what’s up? Got any news?” You looked at him but kept an eye on Nat . 

“Unfortunately, no,” he sighed. “Everyone is free to go now, training should be done.” Max and Liam bolted from the room and Nat relaxed. “(Y/N), can I speak with you?”

You nodded as everyone filtered from the room, Loki giving you one last glance before leaving.

“What’s up, Cap?” You grabbed your water.

“I was wondering how much you’ve thought about the Kree. We haven’t been able to come up with any great plans, so I was curious to see if you have.”

“Yes, I’ve thought of plans, but the one that keeps returning to me is fucking horrible and I might end up having to do it behind everyone’s backs.” You took a sip of water which gave Steve a moment to talk.

“Well now I know it’s dangerous. I can only imagine what crazy plans you can come up with.”

“I can come up with some real batshit crazy ideas. You haven’t seen anything yet. Anyways, first off, before I tell you my plan, I want to remind you that this fight with the fucking Kree is personal. People I know have been taken. Inhumans have been taken and killed. Keep in mind that this plan will only be enacted if things really go to shit. Ready?” Steve nodded and you took a breath. “My plan is to be willingly captured by the Kree. They’ll take me to their lair, or wherever the fuck they’ve been hiding, and I’ll be able to contact you so that you can find me as well as the others who’ve been taken.”

“That’s a horrible plan that can get you killed”

“Again, it’s just a last case scenario thing that will probably not happen.”

“I hope it won’t, but things usually don’t work out for us.”

“I know the feeling.”

🌹

A knock on your door drew your attention away from the book you were reading. You opened the door to find Max.

“Hi, Max.” He entered your room and you closed the door behind him.

“We need to have a mini intervention,” he announced when he took a seat at the desk. “Just you and I.”

“Uh, okay. I don’t know what for, but go ahead.” You climbed back into your bed.

“I’m your best friend, right?”

“Of course you are. Is that what you want to talk about?”

“Just confirming. What, or rather who, I want to talk about is Loki. I think something’s happening between the two of you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“In the gym when our queen Natasha Romanoff paired you two together, I kept my eye on you the whole time.”

“Is that why I saw Liam constantly hand you’re ass to you?”

“Obviously. I can totally take on Liam when you’re not distracting me.” Max cleared his throat. “Let me tell you my hypothesis. You talked to Loki some time after we came back from Assumption and somehow you reforged your telepathic connection.”

“No? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Over the past few days, I’ve seen you roll your eyes or smile at random fucking times, seemingly unprompted. During training today, you didn’t talk to each other at all, or so I thought. I saw him knock you down and then I saw you straddle him. On a side note, I know what you were doing.” You rolled your eyes at Max’s comment but let him continue. “That’s when I noticed you, both of you, were making facial expressions, albeit small ones, as if you were having a conversation.”

“I do that?” you asked and fiddled with the blanket. 

“Fuck yeah, you do that. So did you somehow find a way to fix your soulmate telepathic connection? Please tell me. I’m your best friend and won’t tell anyone else.”

“Fine, yes. The soulmate connection has been restored.” Max did a silent fist pump and you rolled your eyes again. “But you really can’t tell anyone. Even Liam, okay? I’m swearing you to secrecy.”

“Okay, alright. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Even Liam when I’m absolutely drunk.”

“Good, thanks. I’ll hold you to that,” You reminded him. “You know, Loki and I actually have a bet going on. Who can figure out the connection first. I won because I bet on you. I knew you knew me too well.”

“A bet? What did you win? Anything good?”

“Satisfaction? Anyways, I’m surprised at how quickly you put everything together. It’s been about less than a week. I honestly thought it would’ve taken three weeks tops.”

“I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”

“I have so much faith in you. Especially compared to Steve.” 

“Loki chose Mr. Captain America? I didn’t know they were friends.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You quickly tried to remember witnessing any time they had interacted. “I suppose Steve is one of the few people Loki calls by first name.” You hopped off of your bed. “I’m going to go find Loki to tell him I won.”

🌹

You made your way to Loki’s room.

Can I come in? you asked the same moment you knocked on his door.

Yes, of course.

You slid the door open and walked in. His room had windows facing west, so the room was painted in orange light. You sat down on the windowsill next to him.

“You seem happy,” Loki observed. “Should I be worried?”

“What? No. I just won the bet.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Max already figured it out?”

“Yep. I had full faith in my best friend. How about round two?” you asked. “If, let’s say, Nat figures it out before Steve, I win again.”

“I have to stick with Steve?” Loki groaned. “He has to be able to find out before Romanoff does. She doesn’t know about soulmate stuff.”

“But she is like the best spy in the whole fucking world. She’ll figure something out.” You smiled and looked out the window. “My window faces east so I don’t get to see stuff like this. You have a beautiful view.”

“Yeah, I do.” Loki’s voice softened.

“I swear if you were looking at me when you said that, I will punch you.” You heard Loki shift and your smile grew larger.

You are beautiful, though. Loki’s voice echoed through your head.

Thanks, you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The fading light casted shadows throughout the room and for a brief moment, everything was alright.

*

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