#those three would get lost within 30 seconds

[hoperays-song]

Moon Theatre Trio Roadtrip

Ash, driving the truck: Ok, bad news, we're lost.

Meena: What? How?!?

Johnny, filled with regret: Remind me to never let you drive again.

Ash: But hey, good news, we're not totally lost! We're still in Calatonia... I think.

Johnny, throwing up his hands: You said this was a shortcut!

Ash: It is a shortcut! Look how fast we got lost!

Meena, so done with this: Exactly! How do you get lost in six minutes?!

Ash, proudly: It's a talent.

Johnny, grabbing the keys: Yeah, a bloody terrible one. Come on, out, I'm driving.

[indiestsnake]

okay. for real this time. Major In Stars and Time spoilers for act 3 and beyond. To my wonderful friends playing this masterpiece, to no further. To potential readers, buckle up. This gets long ._.

I thought this game was done with causing me symptoms of emotional exhaustion and stress overload. I was wrong.

Acts 5 and 6 of this game caused the most emotion a video game has ever inflicted on me. Like- the tightness in my chest was an emotion I can only describe as grief. Genuine grief. I felt like I needed to sob for most of act six, for multiple reasons.

Let’s start at the fuckin transition I guess!!!!!!!!!! Siffrin finally thinks they figured it out, and they haven’t. The genuine fear I felt in the cutscene with Euphrasie, the realization that… that this was it, Siffrin was simply stuck. I believed it. I could not find a way to break my suspension of disbelief. I fully, genuinely could not believe that this game had a happy ending. I did not know this game only had one ending, but even if I did, it… I don’t think it would’ve done anything.

The following monologue was the usual terrifying, the game using its informal dialogue to reap horrific subversive effects as usual. Of course it saved some tricks for this moment, like taking away control of when the dialogue progressed. Watching Siffrin snap so thoroughly, lose all his hope and cling to the thought of defeating the king alone because he doesn’t know what else to do, it… it really breaks you.

So. Now that the game has maximized my potential sympathy for Siffrin. And torn my empathetic heart to shreds. It immediately turns on a heel and makes me hate them within three conversations. The things they say to Mira, Odile, Bonnie, Isa, made me so thoroughly angry. I would not blame Odile for actually harming him. I would not blame Mira if she never spoke to him again. I would not blame Bonnie for never wanting to even think about him again. And I would not blame Isa if he no longer loved Siffrin.

I am a person who believes in redemption. In second chances. The readers of my fics know this well. But sadly, actions have to have consequences. And the actions Siffrin takes should have lost him his friends, his family, forever. Even in his circumstances. They had no reason to keep caring.

So then, reeling from the genuine sense of loss and grief and hate and despair, Siffrin nicks the orbs and goes in alone. Through about, what, 20-30 minutes of gameplay, this tension persists. The game didn’t even need to barrage me with monologues, just show those conversations of the family Siffrin left, tear apart the house and the menus and the game till it was barely recognizable. Siffrin. The Lost One, says his profile. Memory of emptiness. Rock, paper, scissors. It’s so dry. So dull. So full of despair and pain and fear and a question of what he could ever do to deserve this hell. He can’t go back. He cannot find the hope or will or anything to go through with it, to follow the script. So even if this does break the loop. What then? He is left with a world where the people he loves most despise him.

Then finally, he reaches the king.

The fight is almost dull. Simplistic. Full of pain. Siffrin does not need a shield to withstand the vision of the future. Because the world they live in cannot get any worse. Nothing scares him more than the hell he now exists in.

Then, he begins to freeze. The king slows him down. And he falls asleep.

The following sequence was just… indescribable. The sadness variant of him, Mal du Pays. French for “homesickness”. Just a simple drawing of Siffrin. The music. The dialogue. The words that come from its mouth. From the party’s mouths. Siffrin tries to say it’s fake. Isabeau’s segment convinces him it’s not.

I didn’t even realize what was happening till it flashed forward and gripped the screen by the face.

He was turning into a sadness.

The frame of his sadness gripping the screen, like many of ISAT’s frames, is something I can’t manage to forget. The cloak and the face and the way it fills the screen so suddenly and finally speaks as itself, not as Siffrin’s party. And he can’t fight it. They just can’t. The universe leads, but he is tired. And now, he can rest. If he just lets go.

In that moment, I was staring at a black screen, begging, pleading for the credits not to roll.

And then he wakes up.

Because his friends are back.

Despite what he said and did, they knew he didn’t mean it. And if he did, they didn’t care. It was clear something was wrong, and they were determined to fix it. Because they were his friends.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a game manage to convey self-hatred so convincingly that I, the player, began to hate my character in a way their friends could not. In fact, I was not aware that was a thing that could happen.

I don’t even know how to express the feelings this give me coherently. It feels like this game snatched away one of my closest moral beliefs only to clothesline me with said belief so I learned it even harder. What Siffrin did was not unforgivable. But it truly convinced me that it was.

So of that when all hope seemed truly, truly lost. It pulled the basic trope of “your friends come help when you thought you were alone”. And it nearly knocked me out of my chair.

First off, get fucked king. Second off, happy for you king.

And then the walk to Euphrasie. I was mixed with giddy glee and unending dread for this whole thing. Isa helps Sif walk while Bonnie holds their hand. Color exists again but only red and oh god the world is ending. Euphrasie is still broken oh god please no don’t send me back don’t take this from me please no no no no WAM REVERSE BOSS FIGHT

Cue that scene. I wasn’t exactly happy that my only option aside from hurting my friends was hurting myself. But it did not take long for me to start groaning in annoyance when Mira healed me.

And then. Against all odds. Siffrin breaks. As does the text formatting as the party literally claws at the text box edges to yell at him.

They fall. Hands clasped together. And he tells them his wish. That he just wants to stay with them.

Of course. That’s all he ever wanted.

And oh god, oh thank every deity, that’s all they want too.

And he finally gets a god-damn motherfucking son of a bitch eye-losing tear-jerking MOTHER FUCKING HUG

and damn it was a good one. poor guy was all squimshed. lost his hat too

the rest of the dialogue is just. amazing. I was gigging and smiling and shaking and vibrating with joy before I even finished Mirabelle’s segment. Walking to Bonnie was when I realized it felt like I wanted to cry. During Bonnie’s dialogue was when I almost did cry. Then Odile. Who I obviously asked for the long version of her theory and she was very helpful for explaining all the stuff. and then.

Isabeau.

oh. my. fucking. god.

the joy I felt when he said it. The leap I leapt, ungracefully dancing over to my bed and mouthing screams of joy. I genuinely just collapsed and writhed around like a fish out of water in happiness. You know how some folk flap their hands to stim? Yeah, imagine that but my whole body. I was so unbelievably happy. I don’t know how a game did this much to me.

The rest of the dialogue was wonderful too. Sif apologized for everything, even the optional events, even admitted the bad touch event. And of course. Isa freaked the fuck out. Because oh my god Sif kissed him. And then when Sif clarifies that it was not a good kiss. He just thinks for a moment like. “…………. Maybe u just need more practice!!! ^^” and it was at that point Siffrin and Isabeau plushies manifested in my hands and I mashed their faces together like barbie dolls

Mira doesn’t want self-spoilers and thats hilarious. Bonnie has no fucken clue what’s going on but she knows Sif was hungry sick and at school so all is well. Odile admits she linguine’s him and yes I fucking love that joke. SIF’S HOME COUNTRY MIFHT APPEAR IN THE DISTANCE????? AND ISA AND SIF ARE GOING ON A FUCKING DATE

and it was at this point I saved my progress, crossed my heart, and prayed Euphrasie would not send me back.

And she didn’t.

oh, god, this game…

welp. this post is two hours in the making. dunno if any of this is coherent but I think if you’ve played isat you get it. thank you to everyone who’s been blowing up my liveposts recently!!! it’s been cool to see the fandom giggle evilly at my suffering :3

tho my contributions to the Isat fandom do not end here. the fic is imminent. I could not stop it if I wanted too. If you couldn’t tell by the essay you just read.

thank you for reading this far if you somehow did!!!! hope you enjoyed my nonsensical babbling. I’m gonna go pass out. have a good day!!!!!!! .3

[keepthedelta]

what would you consider Rosberg's best race? (wanna hear people wax poetic about their special interest)

it's going to be a list because i am weird about nico

singapore 2016. an absolutely dominate weekend for him, fastest in every single session, outqualified lewis by 7 tenths (and danny ric by 6) setting what was (at the time) a track record. spent the entire race managing brake and engine issues, got screwed over by merc strategy when they were trying to get lewis back onto the podium after he got overtaken by kimi, had to make his tyres last an extra 20 laps with danny ric chasing him down 2-4 seconds a lap faster than him. won the race and then posted a slutty shirtless photo of him being cooled down by a fan in what could be considered the ancestor of the ice bath videos that teams post now.

canada 2014. a real contender for my favourite ever nico race even though he didn't win. both merc cars had mgu-h failure about 20-30 laps in thereby losing half of their power. nico switched brake bias to the front brakes so that less strain would be put on the rear brakes because on the lack of power and potential overheating. about five laps later lewis dnfs with rear brake failure. nico should have been overtaken by just about everybody, but instead he spends the next 30 laps using all of his power and speed in one specific sector (the one with the drs detection point) so that checo (now in second) is too far behind to get drs, and then, even though nico's car is barely alive for the rest of the lap, he can never overtake him. it literally took checo's car breaking down and allowing danny ric (now driving the best car in the field) for nico to lose the win. the mechanical masterclass of modern f1 (and yes it might not have worked at another track or i f someone other than checo had been in second, but i firmly believe that the lowest nico could have ever come given the circumstances was third) and it is not appreciated enough.

china 2012. i rewatched this recently and literally no one believed that nico was going to win until about five laps before the end. he was driving one of the world's shittiest mercs (i promise every single merc pre-2013 was worse than any car since then), got pole by half a second, got a perfect start, flawless tyre management, cruised to victory while everyone else was fighting for their lives behind him (the battle for second was absolutely insane, and nico was just minding his own business about 15 seconds ahead of them all).

singapore 2008. crashgate has entered the building. back then cars refuelled during the race and so another factor in the strategies was fuel load. nico and a number of others were running low initial fuel loads, so they would have to stop relatively early. except, just before they were going to stop, nelson piquet jr binned it into the wall (on purpose) and the stewards closed the pitlane for safety reasons. however, nico and the others on similar strategies needed to refuel so they had to enter the pitlane anyway which earned them a stop and go penalty which had to be served within three laps. nico did those laps as fast as he possibly could, meaning that after he served his penalty he only lost a handful of places (i think 3). robert kubica who also took a stop and go penalty on the exact same lap for the exact same reason (and was in a better car) lost far more places and i don't think he even finished in the points. nico spent the rest of the race rising up the field and finished second only to fernando (who got there by cheating) with lewis in a distant third (tbf i don't think he needed to try that hard by the end as he got a massive points gain over felipe massa his championship competition due to the ferrari pitlane incident).

malaysia 2016. casuals will tell you that this is the race where lewis lost the championship because of his dnf (and if you're a lh hater i recommend watching it because the level of conspiracy that emerges from lewis and sky sports is genuinely quite funny) but i think that's very misleading. in the very first turn seb crashed into nico, spinning him around and leaving him in dead last by the end of the first lap. nico fought through the field, pulled off a rallycross overtake on kimi, got a penalty for it, and was already sitting in fourth when lewis's engine blew up. he then pulled a ten second gap over kimi so that he kept his podium place, got danny ric to make max do a shoey, nearly threw up when he did one himself, told a room full of reporters that he didn't want danny ric to win another race (that year) and filmed one of the funniest ever post-race vlogs where he fidgeted with the neckline of his t-shirt while describing how seb had apologised to him for the crash and that was nice but it didn't get him any points back. truly iconic.

there is definitely a running theme in these choices i think. mostly that i think nico was at his best when he was fighting against the potential capabilities of the car/circuit/circumstances rather than other drivers 🤷🏿‍♀️

[mckiwi]

So I met David Tennant this weekend…

Story time below the cut:

Thursday 7/11: Driving Down

I live in south GA so I just drove down to Miami, FL for the convention. Left about 11:30am and got to Miami at 9pm. Checked into the hotel and ordered food from DoorDash. Practically passed out cause I was so tired from that drive.

Friday 7/12: Day Before The Convention

Friday didn’t offer much at first. I was meeting a friend down there and their flight didn’t land in Miami until that night. In the meanwhile I went to Publix to get some drinks and snacks for the room and got lunch from Subway. We went down to the boardwalk area for a bit once she landed and went downtown to get something to eat. It was a bit expensive but good, what else would you expect. Saw where Georgia posted on her story showing she and David were also downtown. Promptly freaked out and got excited at knowing he was within a few miles radius of us. (Didn’t ever see him obviously). Turns out the free public parking wasn’t free and got a ticket for $30… oops. Went back to the hotel and played Battleship and went to bed.

Saturday 7/13: Day of the Convention

Got an Uber there cause I’m not dealing with that traffic again and arrived at like 9am. Waited in line until 10am for the show floor to open. We walked around a bit cause our photo op wasn’t scheduled until 11:10. I got a TARDIS and 221B keychain as well as a Supercon t-shirt. We got in line and got our picture between like 11:20-11:30ish I think? It’s a blur tbh, I saw him and lost all track of time. It was really quick so I couldn’t really get to talk to him. It was just a “hey” “hi” 📸 “have a good one.” 👋🏻 It was a long wait in the line but it passed by pretty quickly cause I got to talk to a few other people in line. This was honestly one of the best parts of the convention besides David himself because I got to meet such like-minded people. You could strike up a conversation with practically anyone and have tons of common interests. My friend and I actually kinda made friends with this other girl that was there by herself so the three of us stuck together the rest of the day. His panel started at 12:30, so we were in line by 11:50 and sat by 12:25. His panel was really fun. It’s really interesting watching his thought process happen live cause it’s so chaotic. I love him and his failed analogies.

David: “I’m going to stop now. I can smell the frosting from here.”

They had a Q&A in the second half of the panel. The new girl and I actually got in line to do the Q&A, but if you know anything about David you know he’s gonna take his time to fully answer even the simplest of questions, so we got through maybe 6-7 questions within 30 minutes. One of those questions was actually from his own kids, so that was funny. I’m not sure if it was Olive or Wilfred that asked, they were both there.

Kid: “who’s your favorite kid?”

David: “who’s your favorite parent?”

Kid: “well Georgia just recorded for a book, so-”

After the panel, the three of us battled the autograph line. We had prepaid for our autograph, so we got in one line from like 12:45-1:45 to register our QR code or whatever and get a little blue ticket. Then we had to wait in another line from like 2:30-5 to get the autograph. Was worth it though. My friend got a book signed and she made a little drawing for him, which he accepted and had her give it to one of his kids to hold onto. I had him sign my Crowley cover of Good Omens (plan to one day have Michael Sheen sign the Aziraphale cover). I honestly can’t remember exactly how our conversation went but it was something along the lines of

David: “Hi, [my name]!”

Me: “Hey!”

David: “So you want me to just sign right here?” (Indicates top half of the inside cover)

Me: “Yea, that’s fine right there!” (Gives a second for him to sign) “I also made this for you if you’d like. It’s coasters of you and your family’s names in Gallifrayan.”

David: (finishes signing and looks up) “oh, that’s neat! That’s all of us in Gallifrayan?”

Me: “Yea, this is Wilfred’s on top I think.”

David: “Cool! Give this to them (gestures to his kids sitting beside him) so they can investigate it.”

I handed the coaster set to Olive and she did actually start investigating it which I find funny and was showing it to Wilfred. My friend also had a small interaction with them and gave them some bracelets she made. They actually put them on so that was nice. I saw them looking at the coasters still as I was walking away so I hope they like them. (Pictures are of the coasters and some examples of what they looked like. Did all 7 of their names as well as “Tennant” to make it an even 8).

After the autograph, we pretty much just wrapped things up and got ready to leave. We said bye to the new girl and exchanged contact info. Got an Uber back and DoorDashed dinner. Was in bed by 10.

Sunday 7/14: Drive Back Home

What it says on the tin. My friend had to get up at like 3am for her flight so we had to call it a night pretty early Saturday and I left the hotel about 11:30am Sunday morning. Got home about 7pm.

Overall a 10/10 experience. Even with the large crowds, no one was fighting or anything and were generally very nice. Next time there’s a convention somewhat close to me I’m totally ready to go.

[rosemaryreaper]

Batten down the hatches!

This snippet has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and since I don’t know when I’ll ever finish it, here it is. The basic premise: a strange mystery lures our ragtag crew, including Danse, Haylen, and Ros, on an unconventional adventure outside the Commonwealth, with some help from Longfellow along the way.

Or, in other words, I really just wanted to use my sailing background in a fic for once.

* * * *

This wasn’t how Haylen had ever imagined she would die.

A fiery vertibird crash had been at the top of the list at one point. Execution by firing squad, briefly, at another. Throat torn out by a feral? Wouldn’t have been surprised. Replaced by a synth? Always a possibility. Shot by a raider? Hell, who hadn’t been. But to die lost at sea? The thought had never crossed her mind. Until now.

It was a toss-up how they would be lost. She had her caps on “lightning strike,” but “washed overboard” was a close second. She had never trusted those rusted old lifelines. The longer they took to get the sails in, though, the faster “capsizing” crept towards the lead.

The world roiled in shades of gray one ink drop away from pure sightlessness. The ocean was a shapeless mass of tar, heard more as an angry whisper on the hulls than seen. The rain just cold pinpricks on the exposed slivers of her skin, its faint pattering drowned out by the wind howling through the stays.

Then the world was bright, bright, bright. There was white light bursting in the clouds and silver gleaming on the backs of short, choppy waves. The deck flooded into view in front of her, beyond her hands and their tight-knuckled grip on the helm. Shadows stretched from frantic bodies. Rain dotted her vision like static on a terminal, blasted across her goggles by the wind. A reflector glinted on the elbow of someone’s foul weather jacket. Then it went dark again—darker than dark—while the white clung behind her eyes. Longfellow’s resulting curse lost itself in a crash of thunder.

Haylen fought the urge to rub her eyes to clear them. It wouldn’t have done any good, between the night and her rain-blasted goggles. She blinked until she could make out the three figures by the mast, barely visible in the dim beam of Longfellow’s headlamp. Danse’s broad shoulders strained as he shoved his weight against the winch handle, to no avail. Caleb held tight to the boom, tugging at the tangled lines. Neither were making progress. The mainsail strained dangerously at three-quarters of its full height.

Haylen imagined she could hear the anemometer whirring at the top of the mast. Numbers blinked on the tiny screens behind the helm: wind holding steady at 30 knots, gusting higher. There was a gust at 40 knots…48 knots…52 knots…climbing. Something groaned deep within the Kingfisher. They should have reefed the main minutes ago.

In the cockpit, somewhat sheltered from the rain, Ros and Chloe swiftly cranked in the jib. Haylen waved a hand when there was a handkerchief of the forward sail left. Trusting her, they stopped. Ros secured the significantly more cooperative line around the winch while Chloe locked the sheet. Haylen shoved down an instant wave of anxiety. She had made the call on instinct and five days’ worth of knowledge. She had no idea if she was right.

The starboard jackline furiously slapped the deck with each gust, tossing extra noise into the wind-driven cacophony. Longfellow’s headlamp shone in her direction. His rough voice rushed by her ears. She gave a frustrated flick of her wrist. She couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

A wave hit the hull beam-on, jolting the ship to port. Caleb’s ass hit the deck with a thud they could all feel. Haylen braced herself against the traveler before hers could do the same. Danse snagged the back of Caleb’s harness before he could tumble away. The jackline pulled taut as Longfellow stumbled, but otherwise the old harborman remained standing.

The headlamp relocated her. Longfellow pointed into the wind, arm straight and fingers together. She replied by turning the helm in the same direction. Bouncing on the choppy waves, the Kingfisher swung into irons, where Haylen held her best she could. She had just thrown the ship’s steering capability into the wind—almost literally.

Without any forward momentum, the Kingfisher jerked uncomfortably from hull to hull, rolling and dipping in a new direction each second. She swung the helm from port to starboard and back again, struggling to keep the bow to the wind. “Luffing” was too gentle a word to describe the aggressive beating of the sails. The boom creaked bitterly as it bucked against the mainsheet, rattling the blocks all the way aft on the traveler. Suddenly fearful one would break off and hit her, Haylen pulled herself closer to the helm.

The men were shouting at each other, the words even less sensical than before. Ros and Chloe clung to the cockpit tables, their feet slipping on the floor’s worn grip. Haylen couldn’t tell if the damp feeling beneath her foul weather gear was sweat or rain. The sky burst into cold silver. Thunder crashed back down with the dark. It was 3 A.M. and she had never felt more awake.

[adultswim2021]

Space Ghost Weekend (part 1)

Or should it be “weakened”? 

Hey gang, welcome to Space Ghost Weekend. In this special installment, I’m covering several episodes of the Space Ghost Coast to Coast “GameTap” episodes. I unfortunately am bound by the same limitations as most everyone else on the planet, so I will not be watching the lost episodes. I will touch on them by quickly googling the guest and saying something about them that’s a little too abrasive to be funny.

I’ve watched the first two, and the original plan was for me to cover two episodes per post. After watching these two episodes I was inspired to, instead, cover the first “season” of Gametap episodes in one post and the second in another.

Also: I meant to post this last night, so we'll just have two posts in a row.

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #89: "Billy" | May 30, 2006 | S08E01

Space Ghost interviews noted wad Billy Mitchell, the jerkoff who pretends to be good at video games. He comes off like an arrogant prick and the whole thing feels like it’s being written by a Space Ghost fan-fiction writer. Who did write these, anyway? I’m vaguely aware that these were probably handled by a different team, but I can’t find credits for these anywhere. For some reason the line “Take it from me, Billy. It’s lonely at the top.” just sounds like placeholder dialogue for George Lowe to riff something funnier over, but doesn't. Space Ghost did have one line where he says “his parents must be brimming with pride” that comes within spitting distance of a George Lowe riff, but he was probably in a room with some interloper directing him, so nothing came out right. At least, that’s how it all feels. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #90: "Rand" | June 13, 2006 | S08E02

Space Ghost talks to Rand Miller, the creator of Myst, I assume. Could be I missed it, but at no point did I register Space Ghost saying “Rand Miller, the creator of Myst” or something like that. He just starts carrying on about visiting Myst island in a comical way that would suggest he’s speaking to the creator of it. I’m guessing the now defunct synopses of each episode did that particular heavy lifting for this one, making this feel less like an episode of a TV show and more like a video clip produced for Rand Miller, the creator of Myst’s birthday party.

Did the Myst guy work on the video effects for this show? That might explain why these guys look like they are inside one of the Myst books.

Line of the episode: “I gotta talk to this hump”. I’m glad these aren’t overly reverent of the guests. That’s one thing these got right.

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #91: "Kenny" | July 4, 2006 | S08E03

This could be the worst one. Kenny Wayne Shepherd, a person with whom I am completely unfamiliar with, is interviewed by Space Ghost. Space Ghost uses embarrassing slang the entire time. It’s very written-sounding and the one joke doesn’t land at any point during the short running time. I feel like when you didn’t know the guest on Space Ghost they’d at least clue you in a little bit by saying who they are so you could look into it. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #92: "Al" | October 10, 2006 | S08E04

Okay, so something I never realized until now, which might be instructive to those looking to watch these: The first three episodes are HORRIBLE, but starting with this one they get significantly better. Nowhere near the old magic of the old show, but ALMOST PASSABLE. The video quality is better on these, for one. The guests actually look like they’re supposed to on the monitor. It still feels shoddy compared to even season one. The production values that are lacking are things like being able to use library music, and the audio doesn’t sound like it’s recorded on anything professional. The writing gets a little better, too. Again, still not as good as the real show. 

Also: MOLTAR is in this! And Zorak has lines! Zorak was previously shown to get blown-up but doesn’t speak or even scream. This one has a cold open. The episode has the guy who invented Pong. Episodes so far have simply ended with “Interrupt Feed”, and this one’s no different. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #93: "Steve" | Januay 23, 2007 | S08E05

This one has Steve Wozniak. There’s actually a little bit of a plot in these episodes; Zorak is looking to buy a weapon and Moltar peruses a fake eBay site. They actually drew new assets for this. Zorak winds up with a brain canon which launches his brain out of his own head, pathetically. The last image of the episode is of Zorak, looking r-worded. This was the first legitimate laugh these episodes got from me. Most of it was fairly unmemorable, though. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #94: "Rob" | February 28, 2007 | S08E06

A cold open? In the commissary!? Space Ghost has a dead cat in a carrier, and is distraught. I Forget who the guy is in this. I think he’s the one I looked up and went “oh, this is the Night Trap guy”. I hope it was accurate of me to call him the “Night Trap guy”.

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #95: "Howard" | March 17, 2007 | S08E07

Space Ghost thinks the guest is Willard Scott. There’s an unfunny bit with a big fly. He looks bad! He’s voiced by someone whose vaguely recognizable. Sorta sounds like Dr. Grumbles from the Brak Show episode Hippo. Note how weird it sounds when George says “the buuug zapper ray”. Not only is the delivery strange, but the sound recording just sounds poor, like they spent $50 at best buy for the sound equipment. I did like the “no whammies” bit, but I’m wondering if they already did that joke somewhere on the show. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #96: "Wayne" | April 21, 2007 | S08E08

The idiot from the Flaming Lips is interviewed. The little sitcom plot of this one is that Space Ghost has the commissary chef replaced with Moltar, and Moltar taunts Zorak with recipes for cooking up Mantis. The Space Ghost crew sing a version of that “do you realize” song at Wayne, which is almost funny. There were some fun drawings in this, and there was a part where Zorak looked really off-model. I think it was taken from a 60s episode. He looks just nuts. The only laugh of the episode.

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #97: "Larry" (lost) | May 24, 2007 | S08E09

I am simply sorry to disappoint you, but this is the first missing episode of the GameTap era. Sorta weird that this should be a thing. Even though I’ve been less-than-kind to this era, I would love to see this recovered, obviously. They interview Larry Hunter. There’s almost zero chance I’ll figure out who this even is. I even tried to look at the GameTap website through archive.org and clicked around and maybe it’s because of missing flash assets or something, but how the fuck did people even watch these things? I couldn’t even begin to figure out where these were on the website. 

Later we'll cover the rest of the episodes! How about that! And then after that we’ll continue with 2010, and I will strongly consider adopting a pithy one-paragraph format for the rest of the blog.

[the-firebird69]

Another note that really should be well taken this guy Trump he is held by Tommy f and it is in a prison like setting but he's held inside someone else we think that he was found in that format and we do think that something odd is going on a cheesman is back and then Dave Dan is back and we think that they might be juggling positions and they also might be using Trump's body and that's awful these people are too crap it and we're going to sue them yeah it's awful.

-furthermore we have individuals who are a nuisance here they need a. Now we're developing a list. I want people to try real hard now see what this is

-our son is saying it it's absolutely lame and there's a question all the time and either they're creating a question which is ridiculous okay

-the radiation level is at one point three five reds 1.35 RADS that's pretty high and the waves are high the range from around 2.5 to 7.5 rats and they are encouraging people to become different people all the time and they're horrible weirdos okay they're strange it's not going well for them they are getting messed up . It's not really massively high yet but it is high it's going to be higher fairly soon within a few hours late this afternoon it will be 1.43 RADS late tonight 1.45 rounds and later on the week tomorrow afternoon 1.53 RADS and steadily increasing on the oxygen level during the day is 16 the oxygen level at night is probably around 19 it's not bad it's suitable and it will work. By the end of next week it will be a steady 1.7 RADS and increasing by tomorrow the muck in the harbor will be probably 6% and the mouth will be at 110 ft but the cross section of the area left is going to be only at 30% of what it used to be 3 weeks ago tomorrow morning it's pretty much almost out of there it's not much blocking it now they're going to start digging deeper they said Monday but we think it's tonight. The crabs are advancing there are about 300 20 footers at the ships last night into the morning and about 4:30 footers that's one per ship and they did not do well they lost half of them the other half drifted backwards and they can do that they go like a half mile and just a few seconds. We think tonight that because I saw out of the 300 they saw about a hundred of them died the remaining 200 are pissed off but we see that about 80 35 to 40 ft are coming in and they're going to clean those ships they're pretty big and they can cut the bottom open easier and mostly with one hit. Our son's status is that he is doing okay and he's exhausted but he got up too early and didn't sleep all night of course they're making noise and having up with problems and very badly it's very classic at night and you can hardly breathe a lot of people complain but it's everywhere here it's clearing out because the canals are feeling with algae about 62% of them have a decent amount another 33% have some in it and it's turning green and it will grow real fast hopefully a few days that's 95% the rest are going to slowly grow yeah. We will tell you it's been a long time and this whole area smells real bad and the harbor is growing it too we are going to a print now

Thor Freya

Even though the harbor has dropped if they dig it out there's a better chance it won't flood but the storm surge would still be great enough to flood the area because the water from rain and water from up North alone is enough to bring it almost to the sidewalk at Ashley Park and I think the carding her around to say that. But truthfully we need canals open I'm more than one and it will draw the level down of the Gulf of Mexico which is too high from freshwater pressure that doesn't escape

Zues

Hera

We need this we need it bad and it is true this is what's happening we're going to print but we need more on this shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus it's going to happen within the next couple weeks

[corp-goth-dude]

For the people who asked here's my takeaway of Postal's alt universe deal + some headcanons. Some of this is completely based in canon, a few parts are filling in the blanks. Very long post ahead! Under a read more as to avoid clogging up your dash lol. (I may come back to this to update things if there is new content or if I find something that 100% contradicts one of my points.)

Quick starting note before you get into this, here's a guide to my names/abbreviations (most of 'em are obvious but y'know):

P1 refers to the Dude from the game we affectionately call Postal 1997.

P2 refers to the Dude from POSTAL².

P3 is mostly going to refer to the Paradise Lost version of P3 Dude, aka Alternate Dude, rather than the Dude from Postal III proper.

P4 refers to the Dude from POSTAL 4: No Regerts. "The Boss" is Postal Dad in this post bc why not lol

BD refers to the Dude from POSTAL: Brain Damaged. Much like Alternate Dude, I'll specify if I'm talking about The Other DUDE.

Redux refers to the Dude from POSTAL Redux... yeah.

Skeevy is the little freak from Postal 4, based on the "names" he's given through subtitles (Skeevy Hotel Owner/Skeevy Mexican Man/Skeevy Skylift Operator/Skeevy Butler/Skeevy Stranger)

Not really taking other Dudes into consideration for this post, mostly due to unfamiliarity. Sorry! (See below, though)

I am going to detail everything, but to make it a bit easier to understand my ramblings, the tl;dr is that bodily/in terms of different universes, there are three different Dudes. Those would be P1, P3, and our main boy, P2/P4/BD. I have mentioned above that I won't delve much into other Dudes, so you may consider them as either completely different people or variants (design-wise) of one of the three Dudes I'm dealing with here, if applicable.

(Also my playing style leans towards "kill if necessary", so this has an influence on how I view the Dudes.)

-

Let's get started with the P2/P4/BD universe/timeline!

Alright so, definitely not the most important thing here but let's talk about the Dude's age for a second.

Postal Dude, as of POSTAL², is stated to be "in his late 30s or early 40s". 11 years have passed between POSTAL² and Paradise Lost. In POSTAL 4, he's "in his early fifties". Real life time cannot be taken as reference for the Dude's age, unfortunately... The gap between the releases of P² and PL is of 12 years, even though the PL takes place 11 years after the events of P². (Also, Apocalypse Weekend was released several years after P² even though it happens right after the events of Friday. Lol.)

I like to imagine there is at least a small time skip between Paradise Lost and POSTAL 4, even if just a single year, and that he has experienced at least the tiniest bit of his 40s, so I will tentatively place him at 37-38 years old max in POSTAL² and therefore 48-49 in PL. In P4, I believe he is at least 51 but under 54. I personally completely ignore the release dates for the games and place Brain Damaged in the short time period between PL and P4. I love the game but I genuinely do not remember if there are time indicators in BD to help place it on a proper timeline...

Now that that's done...

Let's talk about P2/P4/BD and his relationship to P3/Alternate Dude and The Other DUDE.

First of all, what's shown to us is that P2 and P4 are undoubtedly the same Dude. The intro sequence for POSTAL 4 references errands and characters from POSTAL² and Paradise Lost. Brain Damaged is unique in that it's the only game (as far as this post is concerned) not made by Running With Scissors, but it's fully endorsed by them. With that said, by virtue of the game being a complete clusterfuck (slash affectionate) because it takes place in Dude's dreams, I see it as canon but think the events should be taken with a grain of salt.

The Other DUDE is perhaps the Dude I have the most foggy definition of. Personally leaning towards a (weaker?) manifestation of the Demon from Postal 1997. I do see demons as an actual thing existing within the Postal universe. Not ruling out the idea of any variant of Postal Dude struggling with mental illness (he is at least canonically psychotic if I'm not wrong?), I wholly believe the two concepts coexist. We'll talk more about this when I get to Skeevy, and eventually to P1. Perhaps Dude killing off The Other DUDE in his dreams did get rid of him... not completely. It did not kill him as an entity, but prevented him from gaining control of Dude (unlike P1).

As for Alternate Dude... Okay, this may sound silly, but simply because of The Bitch's reaction at the end of Paradise Lost, I believe he's a tangible creature. Like, you're telling me the woman who yells at her husband for everything and anything doesn't cuss him out upon hearing him arguing with nobody about who Champ belongs to? Her reaction is just "nah he's my dog actually lol". You'd think she'd probably ask him what the hell is wrong with him or something. So, either 1) Postal III happened somewhere else, or 2) P3 was entirely made up by Dude's radiation comatose brain but seeped into reality exactly because it would piss him off. (Considering all the weird things happening in this franchise, I don't even find a person's alter becoming a tangible individual to be weird anymore lol.) Average day in Arizona. Also he's got his dedicated ending.

So, the last supernatural topic I must cover for the P2/P4/BD timeline is... ~ Skeevy! ~

I have two different theories for him depending on how much power we'd like to attribute to supernatural entities within the Postal universe. The simpler one is that he's a counterpart to the Demon from P1, rebranded to, I suppose, fit more within the less psychological setting of these games.

Skeevy is rather mysterious, definitely not human, and has no trouble taking on different shapes. While he could be his own demon who follows Dude for the sake of making him miserable (more than he already is), it's possible he might be The Other Dude taking on a non-recognizable form, because the one who could access the Dude's mind was killed off (unless he cannot have a unique appearance in the dream world...). Showing himself as a person ("person") is not the most advisable solution, but it's the only one left. He possibly goes unnoticed unless interacted with, and your average human would not necessarily realize something's off.

The "more complicated" theory is that Skeevy is the exact same entity as the Demon from P1, and gains something out of destroying him from a reality to another. Something beyond our understanding, really. The implications of my simpler theory remain, but take on a much more sinister tone.

-

At last, we get to tackle the P1 universe.

Oh, I said something about how I would refer to "The Boss" as Postal Dad, but I have not mentioned him even once? Don't worry about that. So, what'll it be? P1 and Postal Dad are the same person? They aren't and the references to Postal 1997 are just for funsies? Well... let's gather the facts quickly:

Postal 1997 has two different recollections of events: the Diary and the War Journal. The former is cold, brutal, and poetic in a fairly disturbing way. But the latter... it's what makes this game psychological horror, in my opinion. (If I'm being honest some of these entries make me sad.)

Postal Dad, in his pre-battle dialogue, alludes to part of the Diary entry for the Air Force Base: "At the place called Climax, and the time called NOW."

The outfit based on him also features a quote inspired by the Diary entry for The Outskirts: "This old coat smells like...victory. And a little senility."

Conclusion?

It's neither. I've got a completely different answer to reconcile the intended ambiguity of whether The Boss is P2's dad or not and the obvious references to Postal 1997. (Figure of speech, it might not actually reconcile anyone.)

P1 is P2 from a universe in which he was raised by his father rather than T. Dude Sr. (whoever he might be). So, P1 is someone who grew up within an unhealthy family unit. He moves to Paradise years earlier than P2 did, and for a different reason that's unknown to us, and that's when the events of Postal 1997 happen.

In POSTAL 4, Postal Dad "quotes" P1 because he is the reason P1 exists in the first place. He is a very religious man with a terribly negative influence on his kid. While I won't be giving the man a specific diagnosis, for several reasons... I believe P2 may have inherited some of Postal Dad's mental issues because that's how genetics work (he seems acquainted with the asylum to some extent...), but the games he is in, save for Brain Damaged in which his victims are not real, let you behave pacifically unlike Postal 1997, showing he is (assumedly) more stable. P1 had to live with this man for a majority of his life, and so he "parrots" his father's illness-induced rants when he reaches his limits at the Air Force Base (spoken as Redux Dude see below for explanation), because they are some of the last "coherent" thoughts he has left by this point.

The grand finale of this massive unit of a post is POSTAL Redux Dude's entrance. There are several things at play here, in my opinion. I'll begin by saying that, rather than believing P1 and Redux are entirely different people or entirely the same, I see them as two sides of a same coin. Something I have not done earlier because I did not find it relevant is talking about character artworks. There is a contrast between how P1 and Redux are depicted, similar to the contrast between the Diary and War Journal. Redux Dude looks... well, he looks full of bloodlust, honestly. P1 Dude displays an emotion I cannot really name, but then there's this picture (you know the one, the b&w photograph) which conveys an emotion that's the polar opposite of Redux Dude's.

Since the Demon still needs to be involved in this scenario, here's a proposed timeline:

At some point in time, the Demon takes an interest in P1. Demons tend to prey on those with weaker minds, and someone struggling with mental illness is unfortunately perfect. ("Blessed are the meek for they make easy targets", huh...)

The events mentioned by P1 regarding his home function as a trigger, and this allows the Demon to kick the front door open and possess him. Thus, Redux Dude is "born". However, Redux Dude is NOT the Demon, but an alter surfacing because of his intervention.

The rest of the game happens. At this point, P1's behavior is similar to what's described in the War Journal entries, while Redux, fully under the Demon's influence at the time, behaves closer to the regular Diary entries (the Demon needs a way to write those entries, after all...). It has been stated that Redux "hears a voice too" (poorly paraphrased), and the Demon is the voice in his head hoping for the worst possible outcome.

The Demon's rampage comes to an end, and P1 is sent to the asylum. Redux goes dormant for a while after his own mental breakdown following P1's. The Demon leaves, satisfied with what he's accomplished. For now.

...?

The ending of POSTAL Redux feels a bit out of place to me (not saying this negatively), so I see it as happening completely within Redux Dude's own mind. As for P1's ending sequence... P1 is shown shooting and nothing happens to the kids, but I don't think they are immune. I prefer to think P1's mental breakdown is linked to him slipping from the Demon's grasp just enough to avoid harming them. And being in terrible shape.

We don't know what happens to these two afterwards, but I'd like to give them a "good" ending. Send them to therapy. P1 learns to live with the guy inside his head. Redux is a very nagging alter and a vaguely ominous guy, but he's not the threat the Demon was. Give him the P3 treatment so they can hug it out or something

-

Quick and pretty messy addendum about why I believe demons exist in the Postal universe regardless of Dude’s psychotic episodes. Imo there are too many things that are acknowledged by other characters or would make sense without Dude around. Namely the zombies and stuff with Mike J. Also the weird demons and fucked up sky+sun in the forest, which can be attributed to the mountain men’s sacrifices. Hell Postal 4 even has aliens. (Also I see demons as a type of supernatural entity, not necessarily evil)

[cagemasterfantasy]

Changes to Bard for One Dnd

Disclaimer: I may not have all of the changes made what I am going over is just what was revealed. So please don't go getting your panties in a bunch. With that being said here are the changes to Bard for the next edition of DnD.

Level 1 Bardic Inspiration: In 5e this core class feature allowed you to use a bonus action to grant Bardic Inspiration to any creature within 60 feet who could hear you. That creature then gained one Bardic Inspiration dice (starting as a d6 at Level 1 but growing to a d8 at Level 5 a d10 at Level 10 and a d12 at Level 15). For the next 10 minutes they could roll this die and add the result to one of their ability checks attack roles or saving throws. Notably, the target could wait until after rolling a d20 before deciding to use the Bardic Inspiration die, but had to decide before the DM said whether the roll succeeded or failed. Once the Bardic Inspiration die was rolled it was lost (notably, a creature could have only one Bardic Inspiration die at a time). Bards could only use this feature a number of times equal to their Charisma modifier and regained expended uses after a Long Rest. In One DnD the rules for Bardic Inspiration are the same except for a few major differences: First Bardic Inspiration now lasts a full hour rather than just 10 minutes. Second the target can now use it whenever they wish including after initially failing a D20 roll. What’s more the feature now works on any target that can both hear and see you so even if a target is deafened they could still get Bardic Inspiration if they’re within range.

Level 2 Expertise: Bards received Expertise at 3rd level. This allowed them to choose 2 skills they’re proficient in and then double their proficiency bonus (notably Bards got to choose 2 more skills to benefit from at Level 10). This feature works exactly the same for the new rules with the only major change being that as a Bard you now get Expertise at Level 2 and again at Level 9 instead of Level 3 and Level 10 as per the old rules.

Remember Song of Rest? Well sadly that has been removed. For those looking for a reason why Wizards of the Coast said they removed it because they felt it would be too powerful given some of the other enhancements the class is getting.

Level 5 Font of Inspiration: In 5e this feature allowed you to regain all of your expended uses of Bardic Inspiration when you finished a Short or Long Rest. In the new rules this is still the case however you can also expend a spell slot to regain one use of Bardic Inspiration. You can do this anytime you wish and it does not require an action.

Level 7 Countercharm: In 5e Countercharm was a feature that was unlocked at Level 6. As an action you started a performance that lasted until the end of your next turn (or until you were silenced or incapacitated). You and any friendly creatures within 30 feet that could hear you then received advantage on saving throws against being Frightened or Charmed. The new version of Countercharm works more or less the same. The biggest change however is that it is now a Reaction which you can use after you or an ally fails their saving throw against being Frightened or Charmed. The target then gets to reroll their save with Advantage (which means there are really now three chances to save). Additionally the feature has an unlimited number of uses so you can use it in any round when an enemy is attempting to magically influence or terrify you or one of your party members.

Level 10 Magical Secrets: In 5e Bards could choose 2 spells from any class that were of a level they were able to cast. Those spells then counted as Bard spells and were added to the total number of Spells Known (notably you learned two additional spells at Level 14 and again at Level 18). In the new rules Magical Secrets now lets you select spells from the Cleric Druid or Wizard spell list any time you can add to your Prepared Spell list. For this purpose they are considered Bard spells. This an incredibly powerful new buff that opens up a ton of new spellcasting potential for the class.

Level 18 Superior Inspiration: In 5e you received Superior Inspiration at level 20. This feature allowed to regain one use of Bardic Inspiration if you had none left when you roll initiative. In 5e Bards now get this feature at Level 17. In addition it has changed that if you have 1 Bardic Inspiration left when you roll initiative you get one more. Similarly if you no Bardic Inspiration left in your pool you get two more the next time you roll initiative.

Level 20 Words of Creation: This a new 2024 feature that lets you add two of DnD’s most powerful spells: Power Word Kill and Power Word Heal to your prepared spell list (both of which have the potential to literally change the outcome of even major battles). If that wasn’t enough,when casting either of these spells you can target a second creature with it if the are within 10 feet of the original target. This is an incredibly powerful feature that really ups the ante when it comes to high-level Bards.

Now the subclasses for Bard are: College of Lore, College of Valor, College of Glamour and a new subclass called College of Dance.

College of Glamour: Enthralling Performance is replaced with Beguiling Magic which adds Charm Person and Mirror Image to your prepared spells list and gives you a chance to bestow the Charmed or Frightened effect on a creature that sees you cast an Enchantment or Illusion spell within 60 feet.

College of Lore: When you use Bardic Inspiration to activate Cutting Words your roll is no longer impacted by whether the creature can hear you or if they’re immune to being Charmed.

College of Valor: You can now use a Simple or Martial weapon as a Spellcasting focus. In addition you get Extra Attack at level 6 although you can swap out one of these attacks for any cantrip that requires an action to cast.

Well unfortunately I don't know anything about College of Dance yet but I will be back next month at the time of me typing this to tell you what College of Dance is

[ten-cent-sleuth]

Thank you for the tag!! @deadheaddaisy also tagged me to do this but I’m answering here since it’s not as much of a chain…yet. XD

Most hits: Red and Raw (3 430)

Even after his team rescues him from yet another abduction, Jane can’t catch a break—not with a lost voice, and an old almost-colleague who harbours a bit of resentment to boot. But when others seem intent on making him miserable, the team is there to take care of him. (The Mentalist team one-shot)

Second-most kudos: A Rose By and By (266)

A case goes wrong, and there’s nothing the team can do about it. But Jane is struggling to cope with the aftermath, just a little bit, and Cho does what he can about that. (The Mentalist team one-shot)

Third-most comments*: Inextricably (25)

One day, Liz is her own person, a person who gets into and out of trouble all by herself. The next, Raymond Reddington is all over her world, and he’s changing everything she thought she knew about it so quickly that she doesn’t know what to think, where she stands, who she is, how to breathe. Now, it no longer matters who gets her into trouble: he’s always showing up to get her out of it. Liz owes him her life several times over. At a certain point, she can’t help but feel that she owes her person to him—who she was and who she is. And it isn’t a good feeling. Then a thought hits her, so simple and so powerful it comes to her more easily than her breath: she’s not going to owe who she will be to anyone but herself. No matter the trouble she gets into in the process. Until, of course, it does matter. (The Blacklist Lizzington one-shot)

[this one is a three-way tie] Fourth-most bookmarks: No Longer in Silence (26)

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach.…” Anne and Wentworth may be together now, their bond indissoluble before the church and plain before their community, yet with the union so fresh—with Frederick gone so long in the beginning—with so many barbed comments from Lieutenant Reed—Anne cannot help but feel all the insecurity and all the anguish of a still-unsettled attachment. (Persuasion Anne/Frederick one-shot)

[this one is a three-way tie] Fourth-most bookmarks: Nature’s Impossibilities (26)

Getting through April 30 is difficult for Scully, but vocalising her feelings just might be more so. After a half-disastrous ending to a case, Mulder helps her with both. They talk, about things they should have long ago, about things they never thought they would, and about things they didn’t even realise they could. There might be tears, there might be cuddles, and a weird amount of it all might take place at the cemetery. (The X-Files pre-MSR one-shot)

[this one is a three-way tie] Fourth-most bookmarks: Safe (26)

Sara was intelligent enough to know working nights had its advantages and its disadvantages. She was mature enough to accept these with equanimity. But could anyone blame her for being just the slightest bit annoyed when someone attacks her at a crime scene like a bat out of Hell? Takes place after S6:E20 “Poppin’ Tags”. (CSI GSR one-shot)

Fifth-most words: Rapturous, Motionless, Breathless Wonder (11 251)

In which Catherine Morland is one of very few people in all the land who, despite her love for the traders’ stories of sleeping beauties and pumpkin carriages in neighbouring fiefs and her eagerness for her friends’ whispers of local thieving goblins and trolls under bridges, cannot see magic. (Northanger Abbey Catherine/Henry fairy tale AU)

Least** words: Bobbi Morse (233)

Bobbi was very glad May was on their side—on the battlefield and in the aftermath. (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. ficlet)

* My AO3 stats page only counts comment threads, but I wanted to keep to the letter of the law, and went and manually checked all my works for their total comment counts. 🤷🏽‍♀️😇

** I have drabbles and double drabbles as well, so 100 and 200 words respectively, but those are all compiled so the actual work on AO3 displays a total much higher than that. I decided not to count those to see what the answer would be without the many-way tie that would happen otherwise. :P

No-pressure tags: @danasevans / @hedgiwithapen / @justagirl-purplejellosg1 / @lady-of-the-spirit / @meushell

Numbers Tag Game

rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words (feel free to interpret however you would like; if not on AO3, can be on Tumblr or FFNET!).

thanks for the tag @elenath9 !

lmao it’s been a while since the last time i did this but the answers still haven’t changed much🤣 as i suspected almost all of these are x-files except for the three star trek drabbles👽🖖🏻

Most hits: Platonic Procreation (9,317)

The IVF is successful, but Scully and Mulder insist they still aren't anything more than friends, much to the confusion of just about everyone they know.

Second most kudos: Security Questions (362)

Over the years, Mulder and Scully develop a set of secret codes to determine whether one of them has been replaced by an imposter.

Third most comments: also Security Questions😂 (64 comment threads)

Fourth most bookmarks: Mother Knows Best (42 including private bookmarks)

In which a chance meeting leads to Maggie turning the tables on Diana.

Fifth most words: Coda (18,347)

What if both the alien mytharc and Samantha’s story actually got a decent ending? An alternate season 7/series finale.

Least words: Fresh Air, First Date, and New Life (100 words each)

Fresh Air: Riker and Troi reunite on the Ba'ku planet at the end of Insurrection.

First Date: Riker and Troi's first date after getting back together.

New Life: Will takes Deanna to sickbay after she faints in the middle of a briefing and they find an unexpected yet delightful surprise.

no pressure tags: @tofuttim @ten-cent-sleuth @virtie333 @baronessblixen @television-overload @eighthprincessofheart @stargatesg-1obsessed @brigitoshaughnessy and anyone else who wants to do this!

[madaboutmunson]

Again - Part 4

Part 1 | Part  3 | Part 5 | Full list of Again series links inc AO3 Link

Steddie fic where Steve and Eddie are in their mid 30's and everyone has sort of drifted apart

Taglist: @adaed5 @grtwdsmwhr @swimmingbirdrunningrock

Thank you to @callme-keys for all their help with this 💚💚💚

================================================

Two weeks later, Steve is pulling up to the library again. However, this time his and Zee’s (the new name change Mackenzie has adopted) emotions are totally reversed. It's Steve, who is nervous and in need of reassurance, and Zee, who is excited by the prospect of something new. Entering the same room as last week, it looks mostly the same, with three long tables with five seats around each one and a suitable amount of space between them. Steve’s eyes scan around the room. They were the first ones here. Some polo-shirted kids from last week are the only people wandering around.

“Ok then, Dad, see you later.” Zee smiles up at Steve and looks over to the door again.

Steve looks at her, surprised, “You, er, you want us to leave? You don't want me to stay like last time?” he folds his arms, desperately using them to cage in his disappointment.

“Well, like you said. Eddie will be here. I’ll be fine.” She tilts her head and gives him a warm smile, “Besides, what are you gonna do here for the next few hours?”

“Yeah, Harrington. Whatever will you do for the next few hours whilst your daughter embarks upon an adventure of the most incredibly dangerous proportions?” A voice rumbles playfully from behind him. Steve turns a little to open up their circle of conversation to him. He doesn't think he’s been this relieved to see Eddie since they found him at Skull Rock all those years ago, and it must show because Eddie scans his face offering the sweetest smile in return. For a few seconds, time sort of pauses, and something shifts within him. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again because the sounds have got lost somewhere.

"Well", Eddie springs from living statue into action as he grabs for the backpack behind him, "I thought maybe you could help me out. Can the great King Harrington wield a paintbrush?"

Eddie pushes the backpack towards Steve and gestures with his head to the bookshelves behind him, "I set us up a table out of the way. You know, so we don't cramp their style."

“King Harrington?” Zee laughs at the impossibility of Steve ever being anything more than a massive dork of a Dad.

Steve can see that face of mischief bloom on Eddie. His wide eyes dart to the side at Zee, the excitable smile tensing on his face, and his cheeks suck in a little. Steve’s memory throws him back in time, standing next to Eddie, draped in his vest. He was the centre of attention, being the answer to everyone’s prayers in Max’s Trailer before they were about to steal someone’s vehicle and home. The face was exactly the same, just a few more creases here and there, and Steve couldn't help but feel how privileged he was getting to see Eddie’s wrinkles, something, at one point, no one thought would happen.

“You don’t know about the great King of Hawkins High?” Eddie rubs his hands together and giggles, and Steve knows he should absolutely put a stop to this, but then the penny that Eddie’s suggestion was embossed in drops, and Steve finally realises.

"Wait…what? You aren't running the game?...you won't be in the game?" Steve blinks rapidly at Eddie

"Just take the bag, Steve", Eddie laughs gently, nudging him with the bag again. Steve looks between Eddie and Zee before, unwillingly, his body walks through the shelves to a smaller table. Steve selects a chair that means he isn't directly looking at the game table Zee has sat at, but if he cranes his neck, he can see her clearly. He tests it out and sees her sit at the table with her book and binder. She was chatting with some of the boys around the table, but most importantly, she was wearing that big smile. That might be Steve’s favourite thing he shares with his daughter. It's much easier to read a smile when it's your own. The shape of her eyes, nose and face were all her Mom. But that smile, eye colour and hair were all like his. 

He leans back in his chair, takes his cell phone out of his pocket, checks the battery level, and puts it on the table where he can see it. His fingers tap on the table a few times, and then he quickly reaches for his phone again and straightens it a little before folding his arms for a few seconds only to unfold them again. He puts the bag Eddie gave him on the table. It's got some weight to it. Steve wonders what kind of paints they’d be, oil, watercolour, maybe even acrylics. Was it even safe to have paint in a library? When would something as simple as potential destruction stop Eddie from doing anything? What would they even paint? Maybe there were some photography books around here? Steve looks around at the bookshelf behind him. FICTION, well, so much for that idea.  His eyes get drawn to a lower row with brightly coloured spines, and he picks one up. A Firey Baptism, the protective cover of the book, has a white piece of card where the cover should be, making Steve frown at the book. Do they keep damaged books here? Weird. Steve opens the book at random and starts reading. He’s a few paragraphs in when it suddenly dawns on him that the reason this book had something covering the front was that it was one of those romance novels, a spicy one.

“Getting some pages in, Harrington”, Eddie's voice rings out. In alarm and embarrassment, Steve throws the book in the air behind him, and it softly bumps to the floor on the other side of the bookshelf. Steve is glad that some poor soul hadn't been standing there when he threw it.

“Really, Eddie?” Steve says in disbelief, but primarily to hide his blushes. “You sat us in the Erotic fiction section?”. Steve licks his lips, then presses them together in annoyance and takes a frustrated deep breath at Eddie, who only offers an impish smile in return.

“Now, Steve, all I did was choose a table where you could keep an eye on your kid. Also, I thought this was the Romance section. You just got lucky with your pick. I guess” He chuckles and sits in the seat next to Steve, who, despite his years, is blushing. “Also, keep your voice down. A library is a hallowed place of learning, Harrington, the kids might hear. Speaking of kids, where is the little chatterbox?”

“Oh, Corey? He’s at a birthday party, so it's just Zee and me today,” Steve says, straightening his phone again and craning his neck again to check the game table. The mistimed movement makes him bump into Eddie’s side, who is out of his chair leaning across the table, taking other smaller containers out of the backpack. The accidental collision causes the air between them to fill with a waft of whatever Eddie has on today. Steve thinks it might be a body spray of some kind, and for a second there, it is quite a head rush. Steve’s eyes can’t help but move over Eddie whilst he has a chance. Eddie is still very lean for the most part, but he’s more toned now, not just sinewy. He is the same height as Steve, but Eddie has always seemed smaller than him in the past. His eyes move up to his side profile. The longest part of the front of his hair grazed his jawline, but from this angle, the back had a bit more length. The swirling tendrils spilt down the nape of his neck and rested on his collar. The bangs were gone. In their place, a curl-packed side parting, the waves that used to travel down to the ends of his hair were more like curls, and the volume had increased somehow. How could someone have less hair but have more? It made no sense. Steve’s hand instinctively runs through the side of his hair where he’d found his first grey hair a month ago, and he looks down at the little bulge of softness developing where his defined abs used to be.

“You ok, Harrington?” He finally hears Eddie say and turns to him with a few blinks as he arrives back into the real world and out of his thoughts. Eddie looks over his face, smiles, and nods his head downwards, “I’m guessing you didn't hear anything I just said?”

“No, Sorry”, Steve stops himself from saying, That happens sometimes. This was only the second time he’d seen Eddie in forever, and though he wasn't strictly speaking a stranger, he kind of was. 

“Hey, no worries. I do tend to talk a lot. It would be inhuman if you managed to take all of that in” Eddie laughs at his self-deprecation, “Anyway, I was saying that the activity I planned might look a little weird now without Corey with us.”

Steve pulls a confused face at Eddie, who tucks his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment, before quickly picking something up from the table in front of them.

It's a character figure, no taller than Steve's thumb, he looks at Eddie for assistance, and then his eyes catch the small army of them lying in boxes in what looks like foam packaging. Steve gets out of his seat a little to inspect further. Each figure has its own little cutout space in a chunk of foam that it fits into precisely, another thinner piece laid horizontally across them like they've been tucked into bed. Each one has two names and a date stuck to it. Steve lets out a little laugh. Incredibly, a man who lived in chaos, listened to music that sounded like chaos and was usually the centre of generating chaos had something as organised and careful as this in his possession.

"Why do you have so many? Are you, um…is it an army…like a war game thing? I've seen them in hobby and gaming shops sometimes." Steve knows he could have just asked Eddie why there were so many, but part of him wanted to show he wasn't totally ignorant of these kinds of interests.

"You-...ah…you know about, like, wargames?" Eddie stumbles over his words a little, blinks at Steve and swallows.

"Know is a bit of a stretch. I've just read the boxes, honestly. So is that what we're painting? Eddie Munson's army?" Steve's own brand of teasing smirk spreads across his face, and he fires it directly at Eddie.

The dimples puncture Eddie's subtlely stubbled cheeks, and he casts his eyes down to the figure in his hand and says softly, "Well, yes and no. It's not for a game like that, but they will be used in combat." He nods his head towards the main tables in the room. 

Steve's eyes cast over the many boxes, and he wonders how many monsters there are in this game, but then his eyes look more closely at the character in Eddie's hand. Something about the pose of the thing shouts hero into Steve's mind.

"Wait, these aren't all the kids' characters?" Steve says, almost with a huff of disbelief.

Eddie shifts awkwardly in his chair and looks back to the character, "So, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me with the base coats? I already primed them all…." And Eddie continues to talk. His hands gestured at little pots around the table. The base of the mini figure is still held between his thumb and forefinger as he does. Steve is trying to listen, truly, but his brain just puts a soft filter lens over the scene and cuts the sound for some gentle instrumental piano music. Steve feels himself involuntarily lean onto the table and rests his cheek on his fist. Where did they make him? Why was he so fucking sweet? After everything he'd been through his whole life, he took the time to make sure all the kids had a figure of their hero. He was crazy. He must be. Who does this? He probably did this for his own kids and decided to do it for the others too. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie with kids. Steve had caught a glimpse of it in a few of his interactions with kids here and his own, and he remembers Dustin telling him how tough High school was, and Eddie had been the one person to be nice to him and Mike. He looks at Eddie's left hand; the only one of his fingers without a ring is the one where a wedding band should be. Steve sits up and looks at his own hands, devoid of any jewellery.

Sound and vision wash back into Steve's mind. "Sorry, I'm talking too much again, right? Probably boring you to death. Er…anyway, here are some paintbrushes for you." Eddie hands steve a set of 3 of the thinnest paintbrushes he’s ever seen and then proceeds to press a cup with a suction cup on the bottom onto the table, filling it with water from an Evian bottle. “Only the best for us today, Steve”, Eddie remarks, putting the bottle away.

Steve laughs, causing a big smile to spread across Eddie’s face, “I’m guessing this proves my suspicion that painting in a library isn’t allowed?”

Eddie tries to look as innocent as possible, trying to hold back the full intensity of his smile, “I can’t imagine what you could possibly mean!”

“Ah, the fact that you could have just got some tap water from the bathroom, but that would mean walking past one of the librarians with a cup of water? Maybe that's what I mean.” Steve laughs, “Do you just see a list of do-nots and mentally make them a to-do list, Eddie?”

Eddie's face looks a little smug, “Depends who’s on the list, I guess.”

Steve is not ready for that one and immediately straightens his paintbrushes to line up neatly next to one another.

"Shit, sorry man. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I gotta dumb sense of humour sometimes, you know?" He makes all the right moves and sounds of a nose laugh, but Steve can detect the genuine concern behind it.

"I'm not uncomfortable", Steve lies with a well-practised, everything-is-just-dandy smile for Eddie, but by the time he’s turned his way, Eddie is already scanning him with those big brown lie detectors he calls his eyes.

Eddie's brow furrows a little, and he gives a half smile, "Yeah. Course not", and reaches for one of the foam squares out of the tub. He takes the figure out and places it on the table, revealing a piece of paper with a sketch of the character that indicates what colours should go where, "So, um, I've planned each one, and all of the paints are numbered, sometimes the names are a little weird, and I thought that might be a level of geek too far for you, maybe."

"Yeah, I think that ship sailed quite a number of years ago. I'm not gunning for your King of The Nerds crown, but I am versed in the basics of Geek, by osmosis or something," Steve says fondly. He only learned all these phrases because of his kids. Steve cranes his neck to look over at the game. He can see Zee staring intently at someone at the head of the table, her pencil scribbling away on her pad before her eyebrows raise in surprise, and he can see her consulting the other players on something. Steve shifts his seat a little to see who is at the head of the table. He sees the familiar cardboard screen that he saw when her old group played at their house. Looming over this one is a sleeveless shirt wearing Morgan. He seems to be a lot more articulate now. Talking animatedly with his hands, virtually climbing onto the table, and dramatic expressions on his face, he's creating a world where the players around the table hang on his every word. Something about his energy is familiar…Fuck, is he Eddie's kid??! Now Steve feels like a real asshole. He didn't look like him at all, but the mannerisms were there. Donating genes doesn't make you someone's Dad, though. Steve knew that only too well.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Business (Mis)Management

AYO you know the drill. MGI Trope Tussle! 

Fics Masterlist

Timari Oneshot 2.3K words

Summary: 

"Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. "

One shot using two prompts for this server event: Day 3:College AU Day 5: "Why'd you do that?" "I- I don't know..."

without further ado: 

It was Tuesday, bright and early at 9:30 am, and Marinette was ready to commit murder. She was sitting in her Intro to Business Management course with her cup of coffee and notepad ready and pencil about to snap in her grip. Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. 

Right there, on this awful Tuesday morning, stood one Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne looking all the world like he would rather be anywhere else; stupid rich people were all the same, thinking the world was doing them a favour by letting them grace everyone else with their presence. Marinette also wishes he was anywhere else but life doesn’t work that way. Her actual professor stood off to the side, waxing sonnets about how accomplished the young CEO was and Marinette listened to none of it. Rather, she was silently stewing in her thoughts, lost in how this man became the particularly large thorn in her side.

It was six months ago when she got an email asking for a commission. A commission for the exact three piece suit he was wearing today. He had gotten her contact from another client and his emailed request was perfect and professional. He had asked for the suit, listed all the required measurements and requested any personalizations he wanted. They couldn’t meet for any in-person fittings so it was currently both aggravating and satisfying to see it fit his lean figure so perfectly. The drama didn’t start, however, until two weeks after, when Marinette had sent the finished product to the designated address. While Marinette isn’t one for showboating and bragging about her capabilities, it grinds her teeth when others try to talk down on her skills. 

When Marinette had sent off the suit, and emailed the man that the package was to be expected within three business days, she got a rather crude email in response, labeling her work as ‘tacky’ and a ‘pathetic attempt at wiggling her way into his family’s pockets.’ That had her doubletaking at the sender, making sure it wasn’t some spam mail that she was reading. Nope, that’s his email right there. Marinette remembered a particular twitch she had in her eye the first time she read that email. It was one thing to be ungrateful of a finished product, Marinette was no stranger to harsh critiques and pieces that worked better on paper than as actualized designs, but the accusation of being a gold-digger set off warning bells that threw her back into the tenth grade where she had battles with a rich blonde with daddy issues. At least he had paid her in advance for the suit. Marinette would have been perfectly fine with silently cutting all ties with Mr. Wayne right then and there, and putting the whole ordeal behind her, until he decided that a crassly worded email wasn’t enough. No. He felt compelled to go on national television and insult her suit for everyone to hear. Marinette remembers his words perfectly, as if they were ingrained in her memory forever.

“You’ve seen the suits I’ve worn, I look like I escaped my own funeral. I’ve tried local, and outsourcing designers and tailors and nothing matches my taste. I’m only twenty-three and I dress like I’ve gone through my third divorce—”Marinette had turned off the television to shamelessly cry into her pillow. She couldn’t bear to hear him insult her design over the poorly timed laughs of the ‘live-studio audience’ that particular interview was filmed in front of. 

After that, Marinette had reaffirmed her conclusion that all rich people were assholes best left to their own privileged bubble. 

A solid clap snapped her attention back to the front of the lecture hall, eyes narrowing at the man by the podium. The presentation pulled up on the smart board indicated that he was going to be speaking to them about professionalism and how to engage in buyer-seller conversations. Oh that was bloody perfect. What did this guy know about any of those things? 

The time was 9:45 exactly when the guy decided to start his presentation. 

“Hello, everyone,” his voice was smooth and firm, not wavering while speaking before a hall filled with two hundred students. “My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne but you all can just call me Tim. It’s lovely to meet all of you and I’m honoured to be here speaking for you today.” 

Cue a very predictable, very standard, very boring introduction. Marinette was beginning to tune out at this point.

“To start off this presentation, I would like to talk about misunderstandings in professional conversations.” He started walking across the front of the room. Slow and methodical; he knew he had all eyes on him and he was taking full advantage of it. Marinette wanted to gag. “Additionally, I want to discuss how to avoid them, and what to do if miscommunication occurs.”

Blah, blah blahblah. Marinette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

“To start off, I’m going to talk about a situation I found myself in not too long ago.” That caught her attention. “It’s funny now and makes for great dinner conversation but not so much when it had happened. How many of you siblings?”

He paused and surveyed the room. His eyes passed over Marinette and for a brief second she thought he focused on her for a blink longer than necessary. She banished the thought from her mind; she didn’t have siblings so he had no reason to notice her.  

“Now,” he continued, “how many of you have siblings who aren’t afraid to sabotage your work when they’re mad at you?” 

Another pause as some of the students lowered their hands. Some were unsure and Marinette had a weird feeling in her gut. Her instincts were screaming at her but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t feel shy,” the guy raised his hand to join the students, “my younger brother is a menace who can and has attempted to sabotage my business. Just recently in fact.”

Marinette looked around the room to see quite a few surprised faces. She was vaguely familiar with the Wayne family and remembered a few details about the youngest child. He was a menace, that’s for sure. As egotistical as any thirteen year old can be. That feeling in her gut returned with vigor. She was suddenly very alert and eager, almost desperate, to figure out how the ankle biter had sabotaged this man.

“About six months ago my brothers and I were butting heads as usual. My sister was enjoying everything while shit hit the fan from a safe distance. I’m not going to go into much details.” He’s arms were waving animatedly as he spoke. It was quite endearing. NO. Bad thoughts, Marinette. “The point of all this is that I pissed my younger brother off somehow. I don’t know, maybe I breathed too hard on his cat or something.” That got a laugh out of the students except Marinette. Six months. He said his brother had sabotaged him around six months ago. That gut feeling had turned her stomach into a pit, eating away at her nerves.

“My brother had hacked into my email and sent absolutely horrible replies to everyone that was marked as important in my contacts in a poor attempt at pretending to be me. Of course, most of those contacts work at Wayne Enterprises. It took a courtesy email explaining the mishap and a personal visit with an apology gift to clear the air. Now for the contacts who don’t work at Wayne E, that’s where it gets tricky.”

Marinette was holding her breath, wishing for this day to already be over and for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She both hoped she was and wasn’t wrong. On the one hand, it meant that he was truly that harsh in replying to her and she wasn’t among the contacts his brother emailed, justifying her slowly dwindling fury. On the other more plausible hand, it meant that he wasn’t responsible for the crude email. It still didn’t explain the interview he did but…but she never did watch the entire thing. She had started watching the interview already expecting him to tear her down. He never referenced her suit by any specifics before she had changed the channel. That probably meant that she had poorly misjudged him. But she would have been contacted in some way if she was among those people and she hadn’t. So he was still an ass to her. Right? 

“For those who I couldn’t visit in person,” Oh god, he was still speaking. “I sent them more personal emails compared to what I sent the employees. That was really the most I could do and I hoped for the best. I got a reply from most; they were rather understanding, actually, some even claiming that their own siblings would do something like that. It went over pretty well.” He suddenly had this forlorn look as he rubbed his hands absentmindedly against the suit. 

“While I was lucky that most of my contacts were understanding, one important thing to be prepared for is people who won’t be that forgiving. Do you see this suit I’m wearing? I love this suit. I will absolutely get buried in this suit. I had commissioned and received it just before the email fiasco and I, regrettably, never got a response when I tried to both thank and apologize to them. My brother had used my email to accuse them of being a gold-digger of all things. I would have loved to commission them again but it looks like my brother burned that bridge permanently.”

What? No. That’s not true and Marinette felt hot rage flare up in her. Was he really lying to try and save face right now? She felt the strong urge to interrupt him. To march down those steps and let him know exactly how she felt about him lying about emailing her to apologize. But, a treacherous hopeful part of herself whispered to her, she had to be sure. She had to have irrefutable proof that she wasn’t one of the victims to his rabid brother and he was just an ass. 

She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. She searched for all the emails the two had exchanged, finding the most recent to be his harsh email. She had another niggling feeling, however, and decided to check her spam mail. 

Marinette has most definitely stopped breathing. 

Right there, in bold letters sat a Wayne Enterprises email waiting to be opened and read. She couldn’t bring herself to click it open, ice flooding her veins, freezing her in her seat. She actually misread the situation. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her head on the table and grovel for forgiveness from this very handsome man. She didn’t do any of this, however, managing some degree of composure and sat through the remainder of his presentation. She would bet her left leg it was the best presentation she would have ever heard but she couldn’t recall a single word of it from that point on; too busy digging her own grave and writing her own eulogy. She could never show her face around Gotham again. Her life was ruined.

The sounds of people packing up had her crawling herself out of her own head. She mechanically packed her things up, gazing pathetically at her blank notebook. She made her way down the steps, eyeing the gaggle of students surrounding Marinette’s biggest missed opportunity to date. She was just about to walk straight out the door, resigning herself to her fate when she made a hasty decision. She turned to the dwindling crowd and marched like a woman on a mission. She wormed her away to stand directly in Tim’s line of sight and she braced herself for possibly her dumbest idea yet. She listened to the conversation going on and as soon as it appeared she was not going to interrupt anyone, she shot her hand out and grabbed him by his suit. The act caught everyone’s attention but before she could chicken out, she turned to leave and pulled the businessman along with her, leaving stunned silence behind. 

They didn’t get far out the door when he yanked her arm off him, stopping them in their tracks. He looked angry, confused but also very put out at her. Fair. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I— I don’t know.” His glare was intense. Marinette felt her face flush and her knees weaken. She wanted to make things right but it seemed she was only making things worse. She took a breath. Focus, she reminded herself. She just needed to address one problem at a time. “I mean, I do know why but I wasn’t supposed to do it like that. I just needed your attention.”

“Well now you have it. So what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. Not about dragging you out here. Yet. But for accidentally ignoring your apology email.” One of his eyebrows rose incredulously as she kept talking, but she ignored it and powered on. “It was, for some reason, in my spam mail and I didn’t see it. But if it’s any consolation, I would love it if you commissioned me for another suit. Or anything else really.” 

“Pardon?” He didn’t believe her, or was at least confused by her, that much she could tell.

“You suit. I made it. Here, look.” She turned her phone screen, showing him their conversations in her emails. At his slightly more relaxed posture she continued speaking. “I’m glad you like the suit.”

“Huh.”

“Also I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” She had curled her shoulders into her ears, still holding her phone out like an idiot. His chuckle in response eased her nerves only slightly. He had a cute laugh. And he was cute too. Bad thoughts! Stop getting distracted!

“Okay, I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.” The carefree smile he threw at her was disarming. “And I would love to talk more about working with you, Ms. Cheng.”

“Marinette, please, Mr. Wayne.” She could breathe easier now, no longer on the verge of catastrophizing. “If you want to get started as early as possible, I’m free for an early lunch right now.”

“Only if you call me Tim. And lunch sounds great actually. I know a great bistro off campus if you will let me escort you.” He really needed to stop smiling at her like that. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.” He turned and offered her his arm. She was slow to move, still faintly caught in the emotional whiplash of the morning. Her gentle grip on his bicep was enough for her to feel the muscle definition under the suit. It pleasantly surprised her but not nearly as much as his next words.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

What?

[torillatavataan]

The statistics you shared are factual and correct. I don't think anyone is arguing that. What people are taking issue with is the tag "women and children first (to die)". Yes, this, too, is statistically true. Women and children are less likely to survive and in the case of Estonia also, men were more likely to survive, but it wasn't deliberate.

You compared MS Estonia to SS Arctic, where men did leave women and children to die by rushing to the lifeboats. Nothing like this happened on Estonia, although, yes, there was some looting and fighting over lifejackets reported. With that comparison, how do you expect people to interpret your tag? The fact that you compare these two accidents indicates that you do not know what happened to Estonia and how quickly it all happened.

Even if it's true that:

not much has changed since the days of the sinking of the S.S. Arctic in 1854

MS Estonia is not an appropriate example. In the case of Estonia, every second mattered. Making the choice of running left instead of right either saved your life or doomed you. The fact that as many as 137 people survived is incredible.

The Estonia was nothing like the Titanic, for example, which took nearly three hours to sink and had time to arrange an evacuation. The Estonia sank within an hour and was completely sideways within about 15-20 minutes from the moment it began listing. There was never time for a proper evacuation.

MS Estonia sank because its bow visor was completely ripped off during a stormy night in September on the Baltic Sea. This means that the front of the ship was completely open. Water rushed into the car deck and the added freely moving weight caused the ship to rapidly list and sink.

Here is the timeline with approximate timings:

1:00 A wave hits the bow doors, causing a loud bang. Lights indicate the bow visor is closed, so no further visual inspection is done, but this is likely when the bow visor's hinge broke.

1:05 - 1.10 Passengers and crew report unusual metallic bangs from the hull. This was likely the bow visor banging against the hull as it was now loose.

1:15 The bow visor breaks off, tearing open the loading ramp. The ship almost immediately lists about 15 degrees as water pours into the car deck.

1:20 A public address of an alarm is made (quiet and unclear, the hostess making the public address was likely confused and scared), followed by an internal alarm for the crew to prepare the lifeboats. Water starts getting in from cabin windows and the massive windows on deck 6.

1:22 The first Mayday call is made. Listing reportedly 20-30 degrees, but suspected to have been more than that already. At this point, navigating through the ship is already extremely difficult for those onboard and the ship has lost power.

1:29 MS Estonia sends its final message: "Really bad. It looks really bad right now."

1:30 The right side of the ship is now completely submerged, the ship is lying sideways.

1:30 - 1:42 The ship has rolled over 90 degrees. Survivors reported walking on the bottom of the ship on the bow side of the ship as it sank stern first.

1:42 MS Estonia disappears from the radar for the first time.

1:50 MS Estonia disappears from the radar for the final time.

2:12 The first ship (Mariella) arrives at the scene, confirming that Estonia is nowhere to be seen.

3:05 First rescue helicopter arrives.

Here is the sinking visualised:

Captains and crew survive at a significantly higher rate than passengers.

The crew have safety training the passengers simply do not have, so it's not surprising. In addition to basic safety training, they have training specific to their own vessel. They also tend to know the vessel well and would know the quickest or safest way out and where the liferafts and lifejackets are located.

The Finnish Wikipedia article tells me that 43 crew members survived. I skimmed through this Finnish article about each survivor to see that the surviving crew members included people like mechanics, a chef, a bartender, dancers, a tax-free worker etc.

The crew on duty on the command bridge died. They called for help until their final moments and managed to give their location despite the blackout (meaning either they got power back or somebody lowered themselves down to the other side of the bridge to be able to give the coordinates). You can hear alarms, items falling, and water rushing in the background of the emergency communications they made.

When the first ship Mariella arrived at the scene, they were surprised that they could not see Estonia. The captain of Silja Europa leading the rescue operation even thought the ship might be somewhere else (conversation from video timestamp 14:50) because it was so unbelievable to them that it would have gone completely underwater so quickly. Earlier he is shocked to hear that there may be people in the water (video timestamp 12:23).

This was not an isolated case

Obviously no, but Estonia listed heavily and it sunk very fast (and by the time it sunk, it was upside down). In Estonia's case, the chances of survival for nearly everyone were slim to none from the get-go. It happened at night and the night was stormy, so there weren't even that many people out and about partying like normally on the upper decks from where it was quicker to get out. Most passengers were sleeping or trying to sleep in their cabins. Any families with children were almost certainly in the cabins.

When the ship suddenly listed, anything that wasn't bolted to the floor went flying. People fell off their beds. Some people in the communal areas got crushed or pinned down by heavy falling items. One survivor, who was at a bar, said sofas and the bar table fell across the room. Many were immediately injured (survivors reported seeing badly injured and dead or unconscious people), meaning they had no chance to get out.

People also got locked inside their cabins because falling and shifting items prevented the doors from opening.

In your other response, you asked:

What has, being "the physically strongest", to do with surviving a ship wreck?

Something that gets repeated in the stories of the survivors is how physically tasking it was to get out. Survivors saw people not having the strength to keep climbing and/or holding on while trying to get out through the stairwell (a very physical and difficult task when the ship is listing, made harder by having dozens of other people around you).

People fell to their deaths in the stairwell because the handrail gave away from the weight of people trying to pull themselves up and out. One survivor recounted that a man was pulling people up through a door from the stairs and that those who failed to hold onto his hand plummeted to their deaths.

To escape through the stairwell (or in some cases cabin windows), people needed to have a lot of arm and grip strength. The same was later required for getting onto the liferafts in the water.

There were hundreds of people. About 700 people never made it out. Unless you were at the front of the masses, you had practically no chance of getting out, especially once the lights went out and you were still inside. It is estimated that people had about 10-20 minutes to get out, which might seem like a long time, but that's the amount of time it took until it was practically impossible to get out. During those 10-20 minutes, each passing second made it harder to get out as the ship kept listing and more water poured in and people got more panicked.

People who got into the water also didn't face great odds. The water temperature was +10 C. Hypothermia gets both men and women in these kinds of temperatures. There were waves as tall as 6 metres with high winds of 20 metres per second on average with gusts of up to 28 meters per second. Just trying to swim to a liferaft was an exhausting task and you still had to get on. Some people drowned because they lost consciousness by hitting the water (either thrown off the ship or by jumping themselves), getting hit by something in the water, or getting thrown against the hull. It is also possible that some people were sucked back inside the ship through the windows.

None of the Estonia's lifeboats could be launched because the ship had capsized. It was floating on its side, rapidly sinking. The lifeboats thankfully did float after the ship went down and some people managed to get in or hold onto them. There were also thankfully liferafts and lifejackets.

Many of the people who got to the liferafts in the water were unable to pull themselves in or hold on long enough for someone to help them in. Water this cold will very quickly make your hands go numb, making it very difficult to keep holding onto something. Some of the liferafts capsized, too, the wind ripped their tent-like roofs and they were filled with water, again lowering the odds of people's survival. Some rafts had enough water in them that passing out meant you could have drowned. People died of hypothermia on the rafts while waiting to be rescued.

Because of the weather conditions, the ships that arrived to help could not deploy their own boats to pick up the survivors. All they could initially do was to throw more liferafts and lifejackets into the sea. Only 34 people were rescued by the ships. The other 104 people were saved by helicopters and by the time they arrived, about a third of those who managed to get out of the Estonia had already died of hypothermia or drowned. Still, one single helicopter that opted to risk landing on a ship instead of going back ashore rescued 44 people which is more than the ships combined.

the majority of women just so happen to collectively being bad at making good desicions* (*small decision such as getting dressed meant that some did not make it out.)

This is just silly and not what was implied. Men had to make this kind of decisions, too. One survivor interviewed on the Finnish news right after said he was with a friend. He told his friend they needed to get out quickly. He himself immediately began to make his way out. His friend evidently hesitated. The friend never made it out.

Deciding to put on some clothes on its own is not a bad decision. There were people escaping in nothing but underwear (one survivor said there was a young woman wearing just underwear on the same liferaft who died before they were rescued) and this was September on the Baltic Sea. It was cold outside. Not even the crew initially believed the ship would sink. But in this specific case taking those extra seconds to dress was often enough to cost them their lives.

According to survivors, some people were silent in shock and did not immediately or at all start running like they did, and others went into panic. But people did help or tried to help each other. For example, an off-duty captain who did not survive was seen handing lifejackets. People also tried to throw lifejackets to those still inside.

One survivor said she decided to leave the cabin when the first banging was heard. Her sister and two friends decided to stay in the cabin and did not survive. Many other survivors had also decided to leave their cabins either out of curiosity or caution when the bangs were heard.

So yes, even a small decision contributed to people's survival.

Or we can ignore our personal feelings on the matter and impliment better safety procedures for emergencies so that next time the numbers, look better

Like with any accident, what happened to Estonia led to better and improved safety regulations, especially for the design of ferries and liferafts.

How would you improve the chances of women and children specifically surviving what happened to Estonia?

Again, I'm not arguing that the statistics are wrong. They are not. But in the specific case of Estonia, the odds were bad for everyone. Lack of physical strength certainly contributed to women, children, and the elderly having a smaller chance of survival, but ultimately quick reaction, physical strength, and sheer luck all contributed to survival. Implying that women and children died because of men (which seems like your intention because of your tag combined with the comparison with SS Arctic) is at least a little ignorant.

(you can find all survivor stories referred from the Finnish article linked earlier, plus one story from this Estonian article)

The Estonia sank on 28 September 1994

With 852 victims, it is to date the worst shipping accident in post-war European history.

The cause of the accident was the bow visor opening in the storm.

STATISTICS:

Young people, and especially young men, survived the accident to a greater extent than the other passengers.

485 of the 989 people on board were women (49%),

BUT only 26 of the 137 survivors were women (19%).

While 26 (43%) of the 60 young men aged 20 to 24 on board were able to save themselves,

only 4 of a total of 40 (10%) women of the same age managed to do so.

Of the 15 children (under 15 years of age), only one boy survived.

The losses were particularly high among the 301 people aged 55 or over. Of these, only 7 were able to save themselves, including 5 under 65 and none over 75.

Meaning, not much has changed since the days of the sinking of the S.S. Arctic in 1854

[make-me-imagine]

All That Matters

30 Day Writing Challenge Day 14 - 'Proposal'

Pairing: John Sheppard x G!N Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, weapons fire, and blood.

Word Count: 1.7k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000 Stargate Taglist: @hybrid-omegaverse Requested Taglist: @techssexythighs, @spuffyfan394

**Made the ring kind of vague, so it could be like a normal engagement ring, or one of the simple bands with a stone set within it, rather than on top.

-

As John opened up the drawer, he felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. Rifling through to the bottom, he felt his hand touch a small box. Grabbing it and pulling it out, he let out a breath of relief, as though he was afraid it might have suddenly been gone. It was a dark blue velvet box, and inside was a silver ring, and at the center, your favorite gemstone. He had bought it a few weeks prior, but was still unsure of when or how he would ask you.

He thought maybe on your upcoming anniversary, but that was still a few months away, and he really didn’t want to wait that long. He had decided a long time ago that he wanted to marry you, and spend the rest of his life as your loving husband. He made himself wait until he could get the right ring, and now that he had it, he didn’t want to wait much longer.

Part of him was afraid he already waited too long, and that you were growing tired of waiting for him. But he brushed away that thought, knowing you well enough that you would never care that much as to leave him for that. You loved him, and he loved you.

Hearing his watch beep a few times, he looked down at the time. The team had a mission in 15 minutes. Closing the box, he placed it back in the drawer, covering it with his shirts before leaving to meet the rest of the team.

“Ready, Sir?” You asked as John walked into the room, now dressed in his tactical gear.

He peered at you out of the corner of his eye and you smirked. Lining up next to you as you faced the gate he nodded “I’m ready if you are, Major.” He spoke with the same candor as you, and as he saw you smile out of the corner of his eye, he felt his own smirk form. His mind flashing back briefly to the ring before the gate opened, bringing him back to the task at hand.

- - - - -

“Back to the gate, go!” He yelled as he carried you in his arms towards the gate, Teyla and Ronan covering him as he ran.

He looked down at your unconscious face and felt his chest clench tightly, an overwhelming fear taking over as he saw the blood soaking through your clothes.

The people on the planet had come across civil at first, but turned on the team the second they felt threatened. No one got a chance to explain anything before they began to fire on the team. Ronan was grazed in the shoulder first, before they fired at you, hitting you in your stomach.

Now as they ran towards the gate, being chased by a number of people, he thought of nothing but getting you all out of there, and getting you to Beckett.

Ducking down behind some rocks as Rodney dialed the gate, John looked back down at you, brushing stray hair from your face. Your eyes opened a bit as you looked up at him and he smiled at you, trying to convey that you would be okay. But you could see the fear in his eyes “Hey, we’re gonna get you back to Beckett, you’re gonna be alright, just hold on okay?” He spoke to you softly, trying to ignore the shots from Ronan and Teyla beside him.

You nodded as much as you could before you felt your eyes close again. You could hear the sound of gunfire and yelling, as well as John’s voice calling out to you, but as hard as you tried, you couldn’t keep your eyes open. And finally, you found yourself succumbing to the darkness.

- - - - -

It had been three days now since John got you back through the gate, and you had yet to wake up. So those two days, to him, felt like eternity. Beckett was positive you would make a full recovery, but only if you woke up, you had lost a lot of blood. You had been lucky, had he gotten you back any later, you very well could have died.

John sat at your hospital bedside, watching you closely as he fiddled with the ring box in his hands. He couldn’t get it out of his head. What if he had been too late? Not just in getting you back to the base, to Beckett. But too late in asking you to marry him. If you had died, he would never have truly known if you would say yes. He would never get to experience a life with you as his spouse.

He knew the job was dangerous, and you both had been hurt before. You both knew the challenges and risks. So why did this feel so different?

“Is that what I think it is?” Becketts voice asked softly from the door.

John looked up and saw Beckett looking at the ring box in his hand. He looked at it, and then back to Beckett. He nodded, “Yeah.” He said softly.

Beckett smiled as he walked closer “How long have you been holding onto it?”

“A couple of weeks.” he let out a sigh “I kept wondering when the right time to ask might be, and now...I almost lost the chance entirely.”

Beckett glanced at you and smiled sadly before looking back to John “But you’ll have the chance when Y/n wakes up. And they will John.” He said encouragingly.

John nodded and looked at Beckett, smiling, “Yeah, I know. And I’m gonna ask as soon as they do. I don’t want to risk losing the chance again.”

Beckett nodded while looking over at you, “Well now is that chance.” He said as he walked over to you.

John frowned, confused before looking over at you. As he saw your eyes begin to slowly open he straightened up a bit. “Y/n.” He muttered.

As your eyes opened all the way, you looked around a bit. Beckett smiled down at you “Welcome back Y/n.”

“Beckett.” You greeted, a bit confused “Where’s J-.” You began to ask before glancing over and seeing him as he took your hand in his. “John.” You said with relief.

“I’m here sweetheart. You’re alright, everythings alright.”

You nodded and let out a sigh “That was a close one.”

“Yeah no kidding.” John said with a breathy chuckle.

Beckett began to check you over as you began to wake up fully, sitting up, with only a few winces from pain. “Alright, everything seems fine. You feeling alright?”

You smiled at him. “I feel lousy.”

He let out a chuckle “Well that is expected, but otherwise, any pain?” You shook your head and he smiled “Good good. Uhh-” He looked over at John “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit.” He gave John a knowing look and smile before leaving.

John took a deep breath before looking at you, keeping your hand tight in his as he set the ring box on his lap. Bringing your hand to his face, he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. You smiled at him as you saw the worry on his face. Reaching over, you ran your hand down his face, making him smile.

“You had me scared there for a minute, well actually a lot of minutes.”

“How long has it been?”

“Three days, give or take.”

“Wow.” You said with a nod “You’ve been here the whole time haven’t you?” You asked, a hint of ridicule in your voice.

He raised his brow and shrugged his shoulders slightly “Maybe.”

You both chuckled, and John brought up your hand to his face, kissing the back of your hand once again. Looking at him, you could see something in his eyes. He wanted to say something but he was holding back.

“What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

John let out a chuckle “How is it you always see right through me?”

You smiled a bit “Because I love you, and have known you for too long not too.” You paused for a moment “So what is it?”

John remained silent for a moment as he tried to choose what to say, finally, he let out a sigh and stared at you, gripping your hand a bit tighter “I almost...lost the chance to do something I’ve been wanting to do for years now.”

You cocked your head a bit and frowned “Do what?”

You watched as John took one of his hands away, disappeared for a moment under the bed. And when it came back up, he was holding a blue velvet box. The moment your eyes set on it, you felt your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

“To do this.” He said as he took his other hand away now, and opened the box, revealing an engagement ring set with your favorite stone. “I’ve been killing myself trying to come up with the right things to say, and the right time to do it. But when I almost lost you, I realized that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we are together. And that we can be together for the rest of our lives. And for the rest of my life, I want to be your husband. So, will you marry me Y/n L/n?”

As he spoke, tears had begun to form in your eyes. You felt your heart swell with excitement and happiness. You had dreamed of the day you would get to marry him, though you never pressured the idea of it. And now as he was asking you, you couldn’t be happier with the idea.

“Oh John.” You said with a small laugh as a tear escaped and slid down your face “I want nothing more than to marry you.”

John let out an excited chuckle as he felt tears brimming as well. Taking your hand, he slid the ring onto your finger, and you let out a giddy chuckle. Looking at each other, John got up and sat on the side of your bed, before leaning in for a kiss. Gently grabbing his face, you met him in the kiss, forgetting everything around you as you embraced the pure joy racing through both of you.

xx End xx

I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging so that others might see!

[resusheart]

Heart surgery fantasy

This is a fantasy I wrote based on the requests I received after I wrote about my heart surgery. I hope you like it.

 I went in to the OR. It was midafternoon, I had performed another surgery that morning together with the attending surgeon. I was still a surgery resident, but not for much longer, I was almost finished with my studies, I couldn’t wait to be the head surgeon, the boss. But, for now, I was the assistant and had to follow my boss’s instructions.

We usually did surgery in small children born with heart defects or on older people who needed a bypass after having had a heart attack. This time it was different, so different in fact, that we were setting up video equipment to record the surgery as a teaching experience in the future. I watched as they mounted the high definition camera in a place where it could record the surgery without blocking our vision at the same time.

I read the file, we were operating on a female, still in her forties. Not a spring chicken, but also, not an old woman either. I could hear her talking to the anesthetist while they were trying to put her under. She was nervous, but we had to be very cautious in what drugs to give her because she had a debilitating neurological condition that made titrating the meds difficult. If we used too much anesthetic she would be intubated for too long, making her diaphragm very weak and this would result in her being permanently unable to breathe by herself.

I could see she was still awake because she was breathing too fast to be asleep, but that changed quickly. She started to close her eyes slowly as the meds worked their magic, then, the anesthetist tilted her head way backwards and begin bagging her with the ambu for about a minute to keep her oxygen levels within the normal range. Then, he inserted the metal blade into her mouth and proceeded to intubate her with a long, endotracheal tube which was then connected to the respirator. Finally, I could see her chest move up and down rhythmically, in deep breaths timed to the hiss and puff sound of the machine. It was now the time for me to come near the table. I greeted the nurses, who proceeded to uncover the woman’s chest. I observed it rising and falling, looked at her skin shining under the OR light. Her breasts were rather large, and still perky despite her age. They were natural, round, soft breasts, not hard plastic ones. I liked them better this way. I kept these thoughts to myself because I could not let my colleagues know that, even in this situation, I felt aroused by my patient.

The nurse sprayed a chlorhexidine solution all over her chest and then proceeded to clean it three times very carefully. Every inch of her chest had to be sterilized before we started the procedure. Her nipples hardened with the cold and when they washed them all around holding the gauze with the pliers, I felt aroused. Fortunately, my PPE covered me completely so nobody noticed.

When she was sterile and all the areas that we would work on had been sterilized, it was time to proceed. I took the scalpel and began cutting from the top of her sternum, near her neck, all the way down to the end of the chest, exposing the bone. Then, with an electrical saw and its high pitched sound, I cut it down the middle, then proceeded to insert the spreader and rotated the handle, to slowly open the chest and be able to see the heart clearly. There it was. A beautiful, beating albeit sick heart. As always, seeing the beating organ made me quiver inside. I enjoyed seeing the EKG, with its black lines, indicating me what the heart was doing, I also loved to see the monitor and hear it’s bip, bip, bip sound, but nothing was better than seeing it like this. The heart beating inside the pleural sack. I proceeded to cut the thin skin of the sack and finally, there it was. The heart muscle, the perfect machine I had dedicated my life to.

I began working on the heart by sowing different colored markers all around it. Identifying which part of the heart is what is difficult when it has lost its shape, so these markers help us identify what goes where when we “put it back together again” after the surgery so to speak. I began by marking the aorta, then continued to mark other things as the apex, ventricles and the last one was the inferior vena cava.

We were ready to begin the longest part of the surgery and the primary surgeon was now ready to get to work. He began by inserting a big tube into the vein that went straight into the right atrium. This tube started diverting the blood from the heart and feeding it into the heart-lung machine, then, we inserted another tube into the ascending aorta. This way, while the heart stood still to allow to perform surgery, the machine would oxygenate the blood and recirculate it to the rest of the body.

At the same time, another doctor began cooling this woman’s body using the mat that was placed under her, to give us time to work inside the heart without causing damage.  

The machine started humming, the ventilator was stopped because the blood was being oxygenated elsewhere and we injected a paralyzing solution, that had mostly potassium in it, straight into the heart to make it stop. The solution was ice cold, and we placed special, sterile ice around the heart to keep it cool while we worked on it.

The paralyzing solution was in, the heart beat irregularly three or four times, then it came to a standstill. The clock that measured time on pump was turned on and seconds, then minutes, then hours went by. The silence of the OR was only interrupted by the sound of the machine pumping, while we worked on the heart itself.

On the outside, her heart looked perfect, but it was still swollen because of the endocarditis she had suffered. One morning she was feeling great, by mid-day she fell ill and that night she had been admitted to the ICU with acute sepsis resulting in her heart valves being damaged. A pacemaker had been implanted several years earlier because of her neurological condition, and the wires that connected the heart muscle to the pacemaker’s battery had become coated with infection too, so they had to be removed, and, due to the location and size of it, it had to be done by hand.

When the heart stood still and empty, I took the scalpel and made a large cut, about three and a half inches, right on the heart muscle. The chief doctor then removed the wires softly to avoid hurting the heart even more, one from one atrium and the other one from a ventricle, it was painstakingly slow. We fixed the heart valves avoiding the use of artificial ones and closed the heart again. In total, she was on the heart-lung machine for a bit more than five hours. Eight units of blood had been used at the time, more would be used later. Now it was time to restart the heart.

They began warming her body up with the water mat, we suctioned the ice cold water around the heart and began rerouting the blood back to the heart. Hopefully the heart would start pumping by itself when the warm blood went in, but that was not the case. I began massaging the heart for a bit, giving it time to warm up. It seemed like that wasn’t enough so we injected atropine directly into the heart muscle and it began to quiver, but was unable to pick up the pace as it was supposed to. It shook like gelatin, but didn’t pump blood. The chief doctor placed the paddles on both sides of the heart and said “clear!”, 30 joules made it stand still for a couple of seconds and then, beating erratically, it didn’t work. We had to shock her again. Once more the chief doctor placed the paddles around the heart, hugging it, pressing it a bit tighter and pushed the button. Her whole body shook, I could see her breasts trembling under the sterile sheets and after a couple of seconds, the heart started beating regularly. “Ok, we got sinus rhythm, let´s close her up”, said my boss. So I took care of that part by myself, while he went to the doctors’ lounge. I closed the pleural sack and used a metal grid to hold the sternum back together. Then I closed her chest, making an effort to have her breasts properly aligned. I touched them with my gloved hands several times to make sure they were in the right place, trying to hide the fact that I enjoyed this part very much. This woman, with those large breasts and nipples, might become self-aware of the scars she now has on her chest and feel uncomfortable, but to me, seeing her, with the perfect stitches I just made, the attention to detail placed in the sutures of both the scar on her sternum and on the right side of her chest, in the subclavian area, were her pacemaker used to be, she is hot and beautiful. There are three drainage tubes coming out of the lower part of her chest and a wire coming out of the middle, which leads to a needle placed into her heart that connects her to an external pacemaker. I find this image fascinating and otherworldly. A woman, asleep, with wires on her chest, tubes coming out, like in a sci-fi movie, and the ventilator working. I feel pleased…..and aroused.

We tried to have the patient breathing by herself by the time she left the OR, but she couldn’t, so we transported her to the ICU while ventilating her. I later found out she was eventually able to breath by herself after four days. But for the moment, I have her settled and sedated in her ICU bed. My work here is done. I touched her hand and said goodbye.

It is late at night, the whole surgery took almost seven hours, I need to rest.  

[the-firebird69]

There are other answers coming forwards. You're saying that Trump is mentally ill we agree that he's mentally ill and we want him out of our face we think you're mentally ill for allowing him to do it. Once again our son needs to eat lunch you fail to get him to lunch but we are going to take you down for it.

Thor Freya

Olympus

So this is your illustrious career of fully me into attacking you with just about anybody I can instead of what you are planning to do and yeah you're weak and lame can't do it and think it's an alternative but for now I understand you lost all of your missile bases globally they did not just hit the ones in the USA they hit all of them and that's good you don't need those they're getting ready to mount an attack on you imbeciles and everyone's tired of you using my name in vain you're just stupid and they want to clear you out of areas and take over stu No in the Midwest they're trying to take over several areas. You're getting pinched right out of there like a loaf. And it is not a good site for other people to see how it happens you go in seconds. The Midwest is emptying rapidly now and it is because of hostilities but more so the ships came up and are evacuating people and they came down to St Laurent. The top three bands of Kansas band it has probably 20% of the Kansas band left in it and the bottom two have about 15% total that is a lot of people moving today they just left and went north and don't care and to the south in the Tennessee Band the top three have about 30% of what was there the same marking .5 months ago and the bottom two have 15%. And that is because the bottom two went N. Altogether you do add them together it is 35% left in Kansas and 45% left in Tennessee. It doesn't make sense to you but the fighting is intense in the Kansas band because it has much more industrial areas. Is this been going on for awhile the numbers are all over the place and they're wrong but I'd like to clarify half of what was there five months ago is nothing half of what was there 5 months ago is nothing to be proud of that's hardly any people in those areas and only 35% is a drastic drop it happened over the past week but we need to get it cleared out and keep in mind we'll keep we're talking about the neck more like population and other more lock included including the Pseudo Empire. As soon they will not be there at all and we suspect it would be within days. There's other things happening today we're going to get to those in a moment

Zues

We do have some projects to lunch and we will they're pretty large in in the moment.

Hera

Olympus