#welcome to my vision ted talk

[patfr8]

Fontaine’s next generation of visions

I’ve been thinking about Furina’s vision and the reasons behind its shape. We know that the little sharp things around the gem are like dragon teeth, maybe a symbol of how Neuvillette is now the sole ruler of Hydro. But, what about the shape of the vision itself? Why is Furina’s a pneumousia vision?

I want to believe it’s because of Neuvillette himself. Previously, it was Focalor, and she was unable to canalise both arkhes on her own because it wasn’t her original power. That’s why, if you got your vision in Fontaine, it would follow the arkhe system. But now that the Hydro Dragon has regained his authority, he has control over this powers (which is canon btw). This would explain why Furina’s vision is pneumousia.

My theory is that now, Neuvi being Fontaine’s “god” (he would hate to be called that honestly), has unlocked a full control over this ability and the new vision holders might get all pneumousia visions, which would make the uniarkhe (only one arkhe) visions something akin to a relic.

It doesn’t mean the old visions stop working (why would they), it just means that future vision holders will have it easier dealing with any arkhe related issue.

[humanteethmarksonhumanbone]

i just-

i just want error and the drowning victim to be friends

i think they would get along, they have similar energies (creepy), interests (being creepy) and hobbies (being spooky)

[multimilfs]

Lilia Calderu x Fem!Reader: In Omnibus Aequitas

Summary: Agatha isn't the only witch with a force of nature trailing after her.

AO3

A/N: oh my god i can't explain how excited i am to post this! so much thought and careful crafting went into this!! actually begging someone to ask for the TED talk on my planning process for this because hooooo boy

this is my first time writing Lilia, so apologies if the characterization is shaky at all!

also to give credit where credit is due, the idea for this Reader was prompted by a post from the brilliant trickofthelights, whom i admire greatly. i'll attach the post here

Tag List: @emiliaisdead @kenzie-floops @nightmare-of-homophobes @thepotatoislost @mckiejames @women-are-so-ethereal @galaxydreamer468 @angeliccss @goldenautomaton @asolitaryrose3 @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld

Warning(s): None

Shadows often linger in the periphery of Lilia’s vision; this she has grown to accept, on the basis that they are gone when she turns to face them. And she is glad of it each time. The twisted shapes and figures of the primordial horrors that linger are not made to be witnessed, even by her eyes.

So when a figure lingers, she turns with the expectation of seeing the silhouette vanish, but she’s not the only one who turns.

It strikes her as odd that Rio should see whatever she does. This thought occurs to her mid-ballad, fire licking at the back of her neck. When she looks, though, the figure does not vanish, but neither is it a horror to behold.

You are as beautiful as she remembers. The memory, coupled with your eyes on her, nearly trips her up. But Lilia holds strong through the rest of Lorna’s ballad—even as the burns on her shoulders ache, even as your eyes dart away and meet the curious gaze belonging to Rio, even, even as you watch her with that unerring devotion she had once craved.

When Alice tilts her head back, singing with the full force of her soul, Lilia’s eyes leave you. She watches the curse burn to ash above Alice.

You’re gone when Lilia glances back.

---

Sharon, human she may have been, was right about one thing—no witch can be expected to traverse the road without rest. So, the coven opts to take turns keeping watch around the little fire they’ve built.

Lilia volunteers for the first watch, restless, feeling the weight of eyes on her still. She should’ve known you wouldn’t stay away long.

Your entrance comes when the rest of the coven has fallen asleep; Jen and Alice on one side of the fire, propped up against the rock they sat upon, Agatha furthest from the fire, back to it, while Rio—if that is her true name—sleeps near enough to lay a hand on her waist. Teen, she assumes, remains in the makeshift bed they made for him.

She sees your shadow at the edge of the clearing, hesitant. Looking over her coven one last time, she stands, and walks to where you wait outside the light.

“What do you want?”

You reach out, a hand on either side of Lilia’s face. She doesn’t shake you off. Yet.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I left.” You murmur.

Lilia’s lip curls, “Are your brutal truths meant to be endearing?”

“No. They’re meant to be nothing more than what they are.”

Against all odds, Lilia has yet to throw off your hold. You run your thumb gently over the curve of her jaw. Everything in you wants to kiss her—has dreamt of it for over a century—but you know it won’t be welcome.

Her curls are frayed and wild around her face in an endearing picture. Mess suits her just as well as refinement; though that could be your bias talking.

“Why are you here?” Lilia asks.

“Because you’re here.” And because your job brought you here, but that’s less romantic.

She seems to sense the omission. Any warmth drains from her expression, her hands removing yours from her person. You miss the closeness immediately.

“A truth and a lie. Which will come next?”

“It wasn’t a lie. I could’ve been anywhere.”

“Then go there. But leave the coven out of this.”

“I have no choice, Lilia.”

Lilia scoffs, “You had a choice when you vanished for a century!”

You close your eyes against the reminder. Hurt flares through you. The ache from years of longing, feeling that veil between you exist so thin, yet being unable to reach through. You hadn’t even been allowed a glimpse.

It was torment. A century should have been easy, but a life without Lilia felt like clawing your way through. If you tell her, will she believe you?

“Please.” You whisper. You’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“Goodnight.”

You hear her walk away, can’t stop yourself from blurting, despite the consequences, “Please, don’t put yourself in harm's way.”

Her jaw is tight, eyes wary. She looks you over as if something about you will give away what you know.

She crosses her arms over her chest. You recognize it as both a way to keep you out and support herself. You ache to be let back in.

“This whole Road is a death wish.”

“Don’t put yourself in more danger than normal.” You say, then, smaller, “I can’t protect you.”

“Are you asking for my sake or your own?”

“Whichever you’ll listen to.”

“Why ask at all?”

You step forward, hands outstretched to take hers, but you stop short, “Because I love you, Lilia.”

The admission makes her flinch. Her eyes water and she swallows hard. For a fleeting moment you see the startling vulnerability behind her eyes—the loneliness you should have quelled—before she locks it away.

“You can’t love.” Lilia sneers, “It would tip the scales too much.”

“That’s not true.” You defend.

“Oh? Then who, in this wretched universe, have you decided to hate?”

You bite your tongue. Lilia takes your silence for its own—incorrect—answer. Bitterness creeps into her smile.

“Goodnight.”

---

“Here to watch the big show?” Rio asks, lagging behind while the others move forward.

“Just doing my job.”

“Really? I’d say things were pretty square when you showed up.”

You eye her, despising her knowing smile, “Why are you here?”

“My job.”

“Hm. And how many bodies have you collected, again?”

Her smile is wide, but her eyes are cold. She’s always despised that the two of you are equals; that she can’t add you to her menagerie of bodies. Just the same, you’ve despised that you can’t write her name down.

Agatha looks back and tilts her head. You know she can’t see you. Like nothing has happened, Rio turns that grin on Agatha, skipping back to her side.

You catch Lilia’s eyes on you and ignore the question in them.

---

Lilia watches. She follows you in her periphery, makes note of where you are at all times. Her eyes always dart to your hands. Every time she finds them empty, she relaxes.

She’s taken watch, again. You read the weariness in her posture.

Against your better judgment, you lay your hands on her shoulders. She doesn’t shrug them off.

“You need rest as much as they do, beloved.” You murmur.

She stiffens at the old endearment, “We’re splitting the time. I’ll manage.”

You run a hand through her hair. The curls are still loose, wild. You untangle a few of them. Squeezing her shoulder, you place a kiss to the top of her head, savoring the closeness.

For a moment, your hand quivers. You still it. Your punishment was endured with grace, you must endure the distance with the same.

“Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

Lilia scoffs, “Right.”

The weight of her mistrust is like a knife in your chest. You do not endure the pain with grace; you flinch, tears springing unbidden to your eyes. Lilia’s eyes close in regret.

You wonder if your presence is more of a burden than blessing. Had you mistaken her intent all those years ago? Love is not an emotion that’d come to you naturally. Perhaps, in your learning, you misunderstood, and Lilia’s kind heart wouldn’t allow her to break your illusion.

She had loved you once, hadn’t she? You could swear she had.

“You have to know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Unless the greater universe calls for it.”

Her tone is honest, but sadness lingers within it. All you want is to see her face.

“If I thought it would do you any favors, I’d throw it all away.” You admit in a whisper.

Lilia turns, then. Her brows are furrowed as her eyes search your own, frantic, swimming with fear. In another time and place, you’d follow the statement with a smirk; but you cannot bring yourself to summon the facade now, not with her.

It isn’t a lie—your admission. If not for the overturning of the world without you, you’d forsake the job on your shoulders. You’d unmake yourself in a moment for her. For the younger witch who sang freely and lamented her gifts. For the wizened witch who eyes you with trepidation, mind rife with your betrayals and shortcomings.

“Where are your lies?” She asks.

“I tell them to myself, so you can have all my truths.”

Lilia smiles then, but it’s bittersweet. A warm hand settles on your cheek. You can’t help it—grace be damned—when you press yourself into the contact. They’re still there—the callouses you remember, rough against your flesh. She still smells of smoke.

There’s a rustling of fabric across the space. Alice shifts, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. Lilia’s touch is gone from you. You settle next to her as she rests, not brave enough to lay another hand upon her.

---

You watch the knife fall as if time has slowed; absently, you think it might be, Time always did love her cruel jokes. It falls with Teen in the direct path. You feel the pen heavy in your hand, the paper near-weightless and yet the heaviest thing you’ve come to bear.

But then Lilia moves. The one moment you need time to slow for you, it’s returned to normal. Lilia shoves Teen out of the way and takes his place in the dagger’s path.

You fall to your knees, “No!”

Throwing your arms out, you aim a burst of magic for the dagger. Consequences be damned. Alice is faster, though, and moves Lilia from the dagger’s path before your magic can make contact.

Rio’s eyes are heavy on you. She can’t do anything—you didn’t technically break any rules, but the intent is damning enough.

“Now this is going to be fun.” Rio purrs.

You stare at the pen and blank paper you dropped in your haste to save Lilia. Your purpose. How close you’d come to unmaking yourself and yet… yet, a part of you is ambivalent to this. The larger part is freaking out, though.

Everyone’s eyes are on you. You flinch. They shouldn’t be able to see you.

Checking your mental list of active charms, you realize you’ve made an error; in your grief-induced act of heroism, you dropped every single charm on your person and directed the energy toward Lilia. The cat’s out of the bag, it would seem.

Lilia is the first to recover, moving out of Alice’s protective hold, “Do you ever think?”

You bristle, yet to stand from your kneeling position. It gives her an advantage over you this once.

“Well and often.” You defend.

“Well?” She questions, beautiful in her terror and rage, “You call that thinking well? You could’ve been killed!”

“You were in danger, Lilia.”

“And you’re not allowed to interfere.”

Ignoring all the eyes on the two of you, Lilia turns and storms through the exit that opened. You watch the road-conjured costume melt back into her normal visage as she gets further away.

It’s then that you recognize the silence.

All of them are staring at you save for Agatha, who eyes Rio with a mixture of trepidation and understanding. You stand as gracefully as you can manage. Smoothing down your clothes, you try to smile, but the action feels slippery on your features. How long has it been?

“What is it with you witches and beautiful mysteries?” Jen asks, “And where can I get one?”

You flush and fidget. The weight of their attention is so much less pleasant than your beloved’s.

Alice tilts her head, “Who are you?”

Holding out your hand, you speak your name. Rio laughs. You blush, remembering that mortal creatures don’t comprehend the original language, not like the two of you. Lilia once said it sounded like botched latin. The coven exchanges various looks of confusion.

“Lilia just calls me—”

“A pain.” Lilia’s voice cuts in, “A very severe, persistent pain. Are you all coming?”

You’re the first to follow, which prompts no shortage of grumbling. You find yourself grinning.

---

“Well, at least we have extra help on The Road.” Jen shrugs, later.

“She can’t help.” Lilia and Rio say in unison.

The two share a look. You can read the distaste in Lilia’s eyes. She doesn’t seem to think much of Rio, not that you do either—and you actually know her.

“Seemed pretty eager to help you, Lilia.”

“A foolish, misguided mistake on her part.”

You flinch at the statement, staring down at your hands. With the charms gone, you witness their true appearance; one completely dark, as if left to char in ember, the other so pale-white it is near translucent.

The beauty of a mortal body with a mortal heart is a range of emotion you’d have never felt before. Though lately, the gift feels more like a burden. Pain is your ever-present companion these days. Even when you look at your beloved, the love that overtakes you is laced with poison; with the reminder of what you had to do.

You can’t bring yourself to wish away the heart in your chest. But you do wish Lilia would be a bit more gentle with it. You’re hardly in the position to make requests, though.

“I can assist in small ways. Taking a watch at night, tending the fire.”

“No.” Lilia shuts you down. You freeze, “You are to do nothing but observe. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, beloved.”

You ignore the look between Alice and Jen.

---

The end of The Road is so near you can practically taste it. It tastes of rot and chaos, but you put that down as a symptom of your disposition. You watch Lilia and the rest of the coven relax, inhaling deeply.

A smile teases at Lilia’s lips.

“What do you smell?” You whisper.

The smile doesn’t vanish as you expect. Rather, it extends to her eyes as she regards you.

“Your perfume.”

You melt. Knees like jelly, you take her hand in your own, and press a kiss to the back of it, ignoring the eyes on the two of you. The Witches Road will give you what you most desire at the end. And before the last trial, it gives the traveler a taste of what their prize is. She can’t reach the end without knowing the truth.

“This body wasn’t mine, did you know that?” You ask. Her expression shifts as she grows a bit more tense in your hold. You hold tighter, “The witch before me had a little over a century left in her when I came. As payment, I had to serve out the rest of her years without the one thing that made it feel like living.”

The words are tumbling from you faster than you can comprehend them. You watch her face, hoping that what you’re stringing together makes enough sense for her to see. Even if it takes some other force whispering the facts into her ear for her to understand, you’ll just be happy that she knows.

Lilia’s the brightest witch you’ve ever known. She’ll figure out what you’re saying, but you just can’t stop; you need to say the words you’ve been dying to say for all these years.

“I never wanted to leave you, beloved.”

There’s no privacy on this cursed road, but you don’t care. If she asked it of you, you’d tell every soul you met how you love her. Lilia Calderu owns your heart, but even more than that, she owns your soul, and you have no desire to take it from her hands—even if she decides to rip it to pieces as repayment.

Let the coven know how you lived a century-long prison sentence to be with her. Let Rio and the greater powers know. You have no shame.

Lilia sneers, “You foolish woman.”

Her hands fist in the front of your shirt and pull your lips to hers. It’s messy; a clash of teeth and lips and noses, a poor imitation of the world-tipping kisses the two of you have found in one another. You’re both horribly out of practice. Never let it be said, however, that passion does not make up for tact. The near-quivering of Lilia’s grip and the force of intent behind her kiss makes up for any clumsiness.

The time on The Road has left her lips chapped, bitter with the remnants of lipstick, and never before have you known something so utterly perfect. You wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close enough that not a breath can exist between you. She sighs against your lips.

A curse of a mortal body is the functions that a higher being like yourself wouldn’t deem necessary; in this case, the need your lungs have for oxygen. Your heart is beating out of your chest and not from desire.

You pull back, panting, forehead resting against Lilia’s.

Breath successfully acquired, you tilt your head and press your lips to Lilia’s cheek, her temple, her forehead—anywhere you can reach, murmuring, reverent, “Lilia. My Lilia.”

“Darling.” She whispers with every kiss, voice hushed with devotion.

A lifetime apart seen to its end. Your fingers still itch with the pent up desire to hold her despite doing so. You were shameless before, but now… Gods help her.

Rio watches the entire display with shameless interest. Her eyebrows are high, a small, curious smile on her lips. Teen had been the first to turn away and busy himself with watching The Road. Somewhere mid-kiss, the remaining three found something more pressing to devote their attention to.

The lack of seeing, however, does not stop Jen from sighing, “When will it be my turn?”

Alice laughs at her side.

---

“Did you know all along?”

Lilia looks up at Agatha’s hushed question. She takes in the messy, haggard, but satisfied look of her fellow witch. She also catches the look Agatha throws your way. You sit across the clearing, Teen at your side, listening with rapt attention as you explain something about the moon.

“I had a suspicion when you mentioned my fortune.” Lilia admits.

A suspicion. A burgeoning hope she hadn’t let herself acknowledge.

“Oh?”

“What is fortune if not a lack of balance?” She shrugs, unable to look away from you, “To change it meant the end of my pain.”

“Enter, your solution.”

“Solution and problem.”

The two share a wry laugh. Lilia’s careful not to ask any pointed questions about Rio, though curiosity does eat away at her. Is anyone better suited to appreciate her experience?

Rio, while polarizing, is beautiful—and seems to have attached herself to Agatha in a way best suited to the witch. There is a beauty in it. Though she admits she’ll always prefer your well-meaning brutality over that which Agatha receives. To each their own.

“The Road seems to play favorites, giving you your prize early.” Agatha muses.

“Having her isn’t the prize,” Lilia corrects, “keeping her is.”

Agatha hums, eyes contemplative.

You’re aware of the eyes on you from across the clearing, but pay it little attention, instead devoting yourself fully to the question Teen has asked you. Gesturing with your hands, you weave similarities between the First Coven and their own. He watches you with a starstruck expression.

Something in your conversation prompts him to tilt his head. He fiddles with the little spellbook attached to his hip. Your musings come to a natural close and he speaks up.

“Can I ask—why Lilia? I mean, she’s great, but I guess I don’t understand.” Teen changes the subject.

You smile.

“Do you know the average person’s response to upsetting the state of the world?” You ask. Teen thinks, then shakes his head, “There isn’t one. It doesn’t matter what they’ve undone in the grand scheme, they’re painfully ignorant of what they’ve done. And what’s worse, most don’t care.”

It’s an old grievance you have with the greater universe. You recognize the necessity of it, but will never deny how it grates on you.

“Lilia… Lilia spent a large part of her life as a harbinger of tragedy. She’d travel through villages and upturn their worlds with a prediction.” You sigh, chest aching with the pain you know she suffered, “But when she did, she always sought to fix it. There were times she leveled the scales so completely that I didn’t have to do a thing. Few had ever considered me in such a way before.”

You look up from your fidgeting hands to Lilia. Her eyes are already on you. The warm, steady weight of her gaze makes you melt.

“And the others, well, none of them were her.”

Teen nods, “That’s sweet. I think.”

You chuckle. In a moment of fondness, you ruffle the curls on his head. He rolls his eyes but allows the contact; how do you tell a force of nature no?

---

You stare back down The Road with the coven. Though the return journey will be without any of the usual hassles, you curse the greater powers for not just providing an exit door. Your feet are killing you.

Lilia looks weary despite having rested. You rub a hand over her back, working out the knots you find with a skilled hand. She sighs.

“Where do we go from here?” She asks.

You raise a brow, “Back to the start of The Road.”

Lilia glares, though it lacks significant heat, “Us, darling.”

Ah.

“Wherever you lead, beloved.”

“That’s a lot of control.”

“Give me a century or so and I’ll start making decisions again.”

Her fingers lace through your own. Lilia stares down the length of The Road she has traversed and conquered, yet the greatest battle lies beyond. The world will never again be the same for her.

You raise her hand to your lips. You press gentle kisses to the knuckles.

“To the return of your glory.” You murmur.

Lilia looks at you for a long moment. Using your hold, she pulls you down, into a short but mind-numbing kiss. You hold tight and sigh, content.

She corrects, “To the return of balance.”

[featherandferns]

daylight - one

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 1 of the daylight series | read prologue here

content warnings: none

word count: 3.5k.

blurb: when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, a stranger stops to help. It isn't until later that you realise why he seems so familiar.

It’s dusk, around eight at night, when you’re driving home. The dying sunlight is compensated by sparse street lamps. There weren’t many people in this area: houses or shops or anything of the sort. You glance down at your satnav. Still new to the area, all the streets look the same. All the houses do too, for that matter - at least those on the Cut. You’d ventured into Figure Eight last week on foot, camera in hand, and promptly turned back around. The Kooks were far from inviting; eyed you up like bait, practically snarling under breath at the sight of you. The houses were huge, stupid things compared to the two bedroom shack you and your parents had moved into. No, the Cut felt more welcoming. The people were genuine and real. Friendly and helpful, even if they had an edge.

“So…” Your friend Mimsy’s voice through the hands-free speakerphone brings you out of your daydreams. “How is it? Found any hot surfer bros yet?”

You laugh. “Sorry to break your heart but no, not yet.”

“Girl! What the hell have you been doing?” Mimsy scolds. 

“I’ve been busy!”

“With what? Wallowing in self pity? Pining after my company?”

“Oh my God, how did you know?” you sarcastically return. “My life is just empty without you around, Mimsy.”

“Damn straight it is,” she mumbles. 

Rolling your eyes, you continue down the street. “I’m looking for a side hustle to get some extra cash.”

“God, you’re so boring sometimes, you know that?”

You snigger. “How else do you want me to afford flights to Vancouver? It’s my only way to get back there and see you again. Unless you want me to hitchhike.”

“Nuh-uh! I just listened to the craziest story about hitchhiking! It's this guy called the ‘Glove Guy’ who roams Halifax and–”

“Mimsy,” you interrupt, “what’s our agreement?”

She’s quiet a moment, sighs and says, “one true crime story a day.”

“Mhm. And didn’t we already talk about Ted Bundy?”

“...yes.”

“I rest my case,” you say. 

“Look, I’m just saying that if you have to get a job, maybe try and be the official photographer for the lifeguards or something.”

“Mimsy…”

“Then you can ogle at hot guys all day, catch a tan and get paid for it!”

Through Mimsy’s chatter and your stifled laughter, the engine makes a troubling rumble. With that, the whole car shudders. The steering wheel shivers in your grip and your stomach drops, panic rising. Smoke pummels out the hood. Clouds your vision. 

“Oh fuck!”

“What? What is it?”

“I gotta call you back!” you blurt, hanging up in a hurry.

You take a fleeting glance in the mirrors and swerve off the road, shutting off the engine. The smoke makes you cough, catching in your lungs. 

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” you continue to cuss, grabbing your phone, scrambling to get your keys out the ignition. Swinging the door open, you throw yourself out of the car and run away, scared it might catch on fire or even explode. 

As you gape at it, chest heaving, you’re relieved to see the smoke is dying down with the engine shut off. Sighing, you plant your hands on your hips and look up and down. Nobody. Nothing. Not a gas station or a shop you can dash in for help. Hell, any shops would probably be closed either way. You reply to Mimsy’s frantic texts with a brief explanation and then contemplate calling your parents. Before you can, the sound of another car approaching catches your attention. It’s a campervan. Brown paint which is mostly chipped and peeling; stickers decorate the sides and windows. It’s well-loved and well-worn. There’s a guy driving, about your age from the looks, and he’s slowing down at the sight of you and your abandoned car.

He pulls up. Your skin prickles nervously. It’s lonely around here. The engine shuts off and you watch as he jumps out the car and saunters over, hands in his short pockets. 

“You a’right?”

“Yeah,” you lie.

He quirks a brow and glances at your still steaming vehicle. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“I, uh,” you follow his line of sight and flail your arm uselessly at it. “Well, no. I kinda broke down.”

“Ah.” He wanders over to your car and whistles. “She’s smokin’, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nervously laugh, following. You keep a comfortable distance between the two of you. 

He heads to the car hood. Glancing at you, he asks, “you mind?” whilst gesturing down to it. You shrug yes. He pops the hood and laughs through his coughs, fanning his face free of the smoke. 

“Goddamn. The hell happened?”

“I don’t know. It just blew up on me out of nowhere,” you reply, coming over. 

He pulls a rag out of one of his pockets and wafts it over the engine. As he checks out the engine, you do the same to him.

Donned in a grey t-shirt, graphic decal on the back mostly faded, and a pair of black cargo shorts and boots, he looks the image of Kildare County. His dark blonde hair is kept under a red cap. It’s fraying on the lip. A shark tooth necklace hangs around his neck, rings decorate a few of his fingers, and several string and beaded bracelets adorn his left hand. He’s good looking, even in the low visibility of the night. There’s also something strangely familiar about him. Almost like you’ve seen him before. 

He meddles with something, nodding. You snap your eyes back up to his face from his well-kept figure just in time as he looks at you. “It’s the radiator. Seems to have overheated or detached or some shit. I mean, whatever happened has completely busted the thing.”

You raise your brows. “That supposed to mean something to me?”

Laughing, he shrugs and gestures at the mechanics. “In simple terms? The thing’s a goner. You’re gonna need a new part on it.”

“So I can’t drive it?”

“Nope. Not ‘til you get it fixed,” he replies. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale deeply. “Fucking great.”

“I mean, there’s a garage not far from here. They’ll probably fix her up for you no problem. Have her good to go for Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!? I thought you said it just needs a new part?”

He takes off his cap, revealing a head of messy hair. Raking a hand through it, he says, “well, yeah, but you’re gonna need the part first. They might have to order it in and stuff.”

“Well, great,” you grumble. You pace away from the car and take your frustrations out by kicking the tyre. “That’s just great.”

“Look, if you want I can give you a tow.” Looking at him, he shrugs. “The garage ain’t far so it’ll be fine to take it using the Twinkie.”

“The who?”

He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “Sorry, uh, that’s what we call the campervan.”

“Oh. Right.”

You look around and take in the situation. It’s dark, isolated, and your phone is on 5% (thanks for that, Mimsy). Calling insurance and a tow company is only going to bump up your bill. Besides, this guy seems genuine. Non-threatening. You can practically hear Mimsy screaming at you from across the continent: so was Ted Bundy! Eyeing him up, you assure yourself you could probably take him if you really had to, and trust your female intuition and gut. 

“Alright. Only if it’s close.”

“It is, I swear. I know the owner, Barry," he says. He pulls out his phone and types something on the screen. Then, he approaches with maps open, showing the garage. It’s true: it is nearby. Ten minutes max. “I mean, if you prefer I can just call you a tow or a cab or something.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say. You close the hood shut and shake your head, laughing. “Can’t believe my Goddamn luck.”

The guy laughs too. In your peripheral, you see him extend a hand to you. “I’m JJ.”

Shaking his hand, you introduce yourself. Then the two of you spend the next five or so minutes sorting out attaching your car to his van. He does most of the heavy lifting, almost jumping at the chance to flex his strength (not that you were complaining) and you do as he asks. Fasten this here; steer this whilst I push. Eventually, you’re good to go. He offers you the front or the back and you opt for the front. Mimsy is probably having an aneurysm about now. 

The campervan smells of weed, damp and a dying air freshener. The front seats are red leather. It’s soft and supple and comfortable, and you hitch a leg up and rest one arm on the window ledge, watching the world pass by as JJ drives. The radio is humming out a Mac Miller song and it fills the semi-awkward silence. 

“So, what’s with the accent?” JJ asks. 

“What’d you mean?”

“I mean, you ain’t from round here, right?” JJ asks, glancing between yourself and the road. 

Smiling, you reply, “Yeah, I’m not.”

“Where you from then? Midwest? East Coast?”

“Vancouver.”

“Vancouver? As in Canada Vancouver?” JJ checks, eyes growing wide. 

You laugh quietly and nod. “Yep. As in Canada Vancouver.”

“God damn. You’re pretty far from home,” he laughs. 

“Well, not anymore,” you reply, voice turning sombre. “We moved here.”

“In May? Pretty shitty time to move.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumble, looking back out the window. It hadn’t been your idea. In fact, you’d protested loudly against it. 

“So, how you finding Kildare so far? Wait, scratch that - how you finding North Carolina?”

“Um…alright. You guys have pretty good waves here and the weed’s pretty good so at least there’s that.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” JJ grins.

You laugh at that, feeling yourself relax more and more as the conversation continues. “Yeah, I think it’s the only thing getting me through.”

Love Lost fills the quiet that comes. You glance at JJ. He drives with one hand on the wheel, holding it by the top in his fist. The streetlamps sneak through the windows and highlight his features in flashes. And it’s in one of those flashes, when his handsome profile is illuminated, that you suddenly realise why you recognise him. 

The kegger. 

You quickly look away. Your eyes grow wide. Did he recognise you? Did he even remember that? 

“I heard Vancouver’s pretty as fuck though,” JJ says, unaware of your quiet panic. “Pretty gorgeous scenery and shit, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum, heart ticking nervously. “You ever been?”

“Nah. Never left the States before.”

“Not even Canada?”

“Too far,” he shrugs. “Couldn’t dish out that kinda cash.”

“I hear you,” you say. “My friend Mimsy really wants me to go back this summer but I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to make enough in time to afford flights and stuff.”

“That blows,” JJ mumbles. 

The conversation comes to a natural close when the garage comes into sight. Its neon sign shines bright in the dark like the beacon of a lighthouse. JJ pulls in and shuts off the engine. You linger in the car a moment to catch your breath whilst he looks at unhooking the tow gear. 

It doesn’t seem he remembered you or that mortifying moment at the kegger. At least, if he did, he’s acting like he didn’t. So…That’s good, right? You can just move past the whole thing. Besides, it’s not like you were doing anything that weird. You took plenty of pictures that night (though everyone else was in pairs or groups) and it was a public get-together. It wasn’t like you were halfway up a tree and peeping through his window. 

You jump at the sound of rapping on the passenger window. JJ’s stood there, frowning in confusion. 

“You comin’?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out the van. You follow him into the shop. 

A burly man sits behind the counter. He’s watching a sports game on a crackling television, drinking a beer shamelessly on the job. At the sound of the bell chiming above the door, he glances over. He seems to recognise JJ. 

“Hey, Barry,” JJ grins. 

“Hey there, kid,” Barry's gruff voice returns. 

They share a bro-style hug and you awkwardly side by him near the counter. JJ plants a friendly hand on your shoulder.

“My friend here had her radiator blow-up on her just now. She needs it fixing up stat. Any chance you could get a push on it?”

“Just the radiator?” Barry checks, glancing between yourself and JJ. 

JJ nods. “Yes, sir. I checked it out and it’s just overheated or some crap. A new one and I swear it’ll be good as new.”

“Hm…” Barry contemplates. He glances at the clock and the sports game and cringes. “I don’t know, kid. It’s late and I’ve had a long day. It’s a lot of extra work that I could just get done tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, Barry,” JJ argues cordially. “How many times have me and my old man helped you out?”

“Your old man stole fifty bucks from me,” Barry grunts. 

Your eyes dart down to the floor, lips pursing. Yikes. 

JJ falters for only a moment. “Alright, well, forget that then. How many times have I helped out? I mean, I’ll pick up a shift or two if you want? Get you some new parts or something?”

Barry sighs. He looks to you again and you smile politely, hoping your nerves don’t show. He’s a scary looking guy. He could probably crush you with one fist. Both his arms are covered in sleeves of tattoos. He’s missing several teeth and there’s a teardrop tattooed below his left eye. 

“She’s new to the County,” JJ feels the need to add. “Gotta show some good hospitality, right?”

With that, Barry relents. He gets to his feet and trudges to the window to eye up your car. 

“What kinda car is it?”

You tell him, reeling off as much information as you can recall. He nods, back to you, and sighs again. 

“Well, I think I do got a part back here for that, actually. I ain’t making any promises though,” Barry says. He heads into the back with that, leaving you and JJ in the store. The moment the older man is out of sight, JJ grins at you. 

“Am I good or what?”

“Why are you helping me so much?” you find yourself asking. 

JJ seems surprised by the question but not offended. “Dunno, really. You seem nice. And I always kinda wanted to be a knight in shining armour.”

“So that makes me, what? The damsel in distress?” you joke. 

He paces the store leisurely, eyeing up car parts and accessories. “Suppose so. You’re from a far away land so you’re already half way there.”

You laugh. Glancing around the store, you find yourself drawn to the pinboard behind the counter. It’s cluttered with posters, deals, business cards, receipts, reminders and a calendar. Amidst it is pictures and thank you notes from children. One picture catches your eye. It’s of Barry, a few years younger, with a little girl. 

“She’s cute,” you smile. 

JJ joins you and follows your gaze. He smiles too, though it seems sad. “Yeah, that was his kid. She died about a year back now.”

“Wait, really?” you frown. 

Sighing, JJ nods and looks to you. “Freak car accident. Poor kid drowned. Her mom too. Lost his wife and kid in the same day.”

“Shit,” you whisper, looking back at the photo. Your heart tugs at the thought and you feel guilty for judging him by his cover. You had your problems with your parents but you couldn’t imagine them gone from your life. 

Barry returns to the store, car part in hand. JJ clasps his hands and tosses them above his head. 

“Barry, you fucking g.”

“Alright. Alright, don’t kiss my ass too much, Maybank,” Barry quips. He heads for the door. “There’s soda in the fridge. You kids help yourself.”

With that, he grabs his toolkit and heads out to your car. JJ doesn’t need to be told twice. Whilst you feel rude for intruding on this man’s evening, JJ is happy to revel in the hospitality. He tosses a can at you before grabbing one for himself. You follow him out the back. The light from the store overflows onto the sheltered concrete. There’s two plastic garden chairs back here with a busy ashtray on the floor. JJ relaxes in one of the seats and you copy. 

“You known Barry long?”

“Him and my dad go way back,” JJ replies, sipping his soda. “I used to come here all the time as a kid.”

“Sounds like they’re not on great terms right now, huh?” you say. 

JJ sips his drink and shrugs, looking out to the abyss of greenery surrounding the garage. “Pretty standard for my dad. Kinda his M.O.”

You get the feeling that you hit a sensitive spot. Sipping your soda, you switch topics. 

“So what do you guys do for fun around here, then?”

“Surf. Fish. Smoke,” JJ lists. “Sometimes we go to a kegger at the beach and stuff. You been to one yet?”

You wonder if he’s trying to rat you out but when you look at him, you see no sign. “Yeah, I went to one. I didn’t stick around very long though. Didn’t know anyone and felt kinda awkward.”

“That’s fair,” JJ says. He pulls a vape out of his pocket and takes a hit, and it’s like the nicotine gives him an idea. He turns to you, renewed energy. “Oh shit! You should come with my lot!”

“Hm?”

“My friends. You’d get along great with them, swear down,” JJ tells you. “You fish?”

“I can but I don’t exactly relish the opportunity.”

“Alright, well, that’s gonna change,” JJ says, making you laugh. “You surf too, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod. Vancouver had a good surf scene. You and Mimsy used to spend hours on the beach and in the waves, although part of the appeal for your friend was the surfer bros. They were her kryptonite. 

“Well, it’s settled. You’re coming to the next hang we have,” JJ tells you with a grin.

He relaxes back in his chair and takes another hit of his vape. It smells like blue raspberry. As you watch him, you find yourself laughing. 

“Alright, seriously,” you say. “Why the hell are you being so nice to me?”

“I told you: you seem nice.”

“Okay, but seriously,” you repeat. 

JJ studies his vape for a moment and a knowing smile comes to his face. Chuckling, he sighs and relents, looking back to you. “Alright. You’re fuckin' hot. Sue me.”

You bark out a laugh. JJ cracks up too. 

“What!? You asked!”

“No, no, I did,” you laugh, catching your breath. “That’s fair. I had that coming.”

“It’s just like you’re exactly my type. Kinda freaky really,” JJ continues. It seems that now the cat is out of the bag, he might as well let it roam free. “Like you’re smokin' hot and you surf and shit. And you got a dope accent, it's kinda exotic.”

“Since when was Canada exotic?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. 

JJ shrugs with a boyish grin. His eyes stay trained on you. “I dunno. Since I met you, I guess.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected. JJ’s attraction hadn’t passed you by and, in truth, he was just your type as well. Confidence that borders on cocky: handy and hunky, but not in a steroid-style way…Maybe Mimsy wasn’t the only one who had a thing for surfer boys. To cool yourself from the intensity of his gaze, you take a sip of your soda. 

“I just weren’t gonna say anything cause, you know, I didn’t wanna freak you out,” JJ admits. 

“Freak me out? How so?”

“Random guy, random area. Alone?” he replies. Sheepish, he shrugs. “Might be kinda creepy.”

You catch his drift. Shrugging, you flash him a smile. “Nah, you didn’t freak me out. You’re not too bad to look at yourself.”

“Gee, don’t hold back,” JJ sarcastically returns. You laugh. “Look, you ain’t gotta say anythin' about it. I think you should still come hang with me and my friends, whether you’re madly in love with me or not.”

“Wow, are you confident?” you chuckle incredulously. 

JJ grins. “Charming, ain’t it?”

“One word for it,” you return. You debate his offer and come to a conclusion pretty quick. Lord knows you could do with some friends, and if his gang were anything like himself, you could see yourself getting along just fine. “But yeah, I’d be down to hang with you and your friends.”

“Sweet.” JJ holds his can out for a toast. “Then let me be the first to say, welcome to Kildare.”

You clink your can against his with a small laugh and the two of you drink. Maybe your new life won’t be as boring as you first thought. 

read part two here!

taglist:

princesssuki21 |

[jamiesfootball]

Whumptober Day 4

Prompt: Hallucinations

Jamie goes back to City, but never leaves to go on LCA. Instead he grits his teeth and bears the renewed pressure from his dad, his reduced minutes, all of it. And along the way, he develops an unhealthy coping mechanism, one that seems harmless at first but then quickly spirals out of his control

He starts talking to the toy soldier that Ted gave him.

At first, it's just venting. His anger with Ted, his frustration with his spot at City, how much it stung to get kicked off a team like Richmond. His dad.

Before long, Ted soldier in his head may as well be a real person. A sympathetic presence at his side, someone to witness his struggles and offer Lasso-esque platitudes. He'd never realized how lonely Manchester could be. He just needs someone to talk to.

The only problem is that Ted in his head knows way more about what’s going on in Jamie’s life than real life Ted does, and the last time Jamie saw real-life Ted was when Ted turned away from seeing Jamie in his dad in the treatment room. Hell, that was when Ted gave him the toy soldier in the first place. All of this combined means that sometimes when Ted Soldier sees things, some of Ted's reactions are, well-

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to talk back.”

They sound like Ted. “Come on, sport. I know your ribs hurt, but if you don’t get up now, you’re gonna be late for practice. We don’t want that, do we?” “No, Coach.”

When his dad’s just stormed out, leaving Jamie to sweep up the glass, and his hands are shaking and his eyes burn even though it was just words this time. Just words and a thrown bottle for emphasis. Nothing really. And it feels like Ted’s there too, standing comfortingly in the corner while Jamie kneels down with the dustpan. “You got this son. Just be a goldfish.” They're Ted's words, wrapped in an accent that's become a comfort, and paired with a smile that's patient and only occasionally disappointed in him.

Jamie can't hear the similarity for what it is.

"Didn't I say you'd regret talking back?"

"Walk it off. You've got training, and my son isn't meant to warm the bench.

"What are you crying over a little love tap? Move on, junior! Christ, I barely hit you." it's just different when it's Ted. When it's Ted, the word 'son' sounds like a warm promise. It doesn't sound like a threat. It doesn't sound like 'I own you.'

Months pass.

The day finally comes for City to play Richmond at Wembley. Ted hasn't seen or spoken to Jamie since the relegation match the season prior. Ted finds Jamie before the match. He's been keeping tabs on Jamie, and he just wanted to say how impressed he is with Jamie's performance the past few months. Not only has he become a better player at City, a less selfish player, but he's also absolutely crushing all the parts he was already good at.

He worries, though. The Jamie of Richmond might not have been the easiest guy to get along with, but you could always see what people might stick around for, what with the self-confidence and the charisma. Some of his recent interviews, though, those had shown a different side to Jamie, one that was sunken in on himself. Quiet, in a way that made the corners of Ted's vision start to grey out and his breathing come fast.

He needed to talk to Jamie. He'd already let him slip past him once, and the longer Ted put it off the more it felt like he was running out of time. At this point, he'd even welcome the kid's attitude making a reappearance, so long as it were a sign of life that Jamie hadn't been replaced with an equally handsome automaton.

But Jamie doesn't need to be bogged down by any of that.

He's not sure what's changed, but Jamie has become a hell of a player, and however the match falls out, whoever wins, there won't be any hard feelings. He's just come over to shake Jamie's hand and tell him as much.

He's entirely unprepared for the way Jamie flinches back.

[valentjin]

we've all seen the jokes about Raphael and clonefucking but what if we talk about Raphael and Clone. welcome to my TED talk, here's how Raphael can still win-

(don't take it TOO seriously, i'm just offering some info/lore/mechanics and whatnot from d&d that could be interesting to consider, for fics or headcanons or whatever else this might be useful for lol)

anyway onto the post. so while idk if 5e has anything particularly specific or definitive about this (knowing 5e probably not, though I haven't read descent into avernus so idk if they have more fiend lore in there) going off 3.5e cambions are just defined as another name for half-fiends, which the MM says are typically outsiders with the native subtype - meaning they can be "raised, reincarnated, or resurrected just as other living creatures can be". huzzah, this means they have souls (imo). presuming the same holds true for cambions in 5e, since 5e also just defines them as the offspring of a fiend and a humanoid, i don't see why Clone wouldn't be an option for Raphael. it's only 8th level (surely there's a few 15th level wizards out there), the material component cost is only 3000gp (for a diamond and a container for the clone), and once the clone matures it "endures indefinitely" as long as the container does; when the creature dies its soul transfers to the clone with all its memories, abilities, and personality (but none of its gear, so we still snatch his diary) + the body's physical remains don't disappear if they aren't destroyed, so the orb vision we got about Meph munchies still tracks

the only potential issue is that in order to transfer to the clone, the soul of the creature must be "free and willing to return", but idk why anyone would have a claim on Raphael's soul to prevent it from returning. since he clearly deals in other people's souls a lot, he would probably be pretty careful about not letting anyone else get their hands on his! (plus he makes a point of saying he's a devil not a cambion when talking about himself, he wants to act like he doesn't have one at least 😂)

Clone lets you make the clone look like a younger version of the creature as well (nooo dont make your clone look like a younger version of yourself Raphael you're so sexy ahah)

[vaguely-functional-directions]

THIS IS AN ASK

WHAT’S THE PLOT OF THE B&C MUSICAL

OH YES I'M GLAD YOU ASKED. This will go into FAR too much detail and there *will* be supplementary images

The show starts at the end of the story, with a series of gunshots and then a car is shown on the stage with Bonnie and Clyde inside of it having been killed by law enforcement.

It then goes back to when Bonnie amd Clyde were kids with the opening song Picture Show, which goes through the years as they grow up. It has both of them in different 'scenes' throughout the song. Bonnie is singing about how she wants to grow up to be like her idol Clara Bow, and to become an actress just like her. Clyde, meanwhile, is singing about how he dreams of becoming like his role models, Billy the Kid and Al Capone. In the later part of the song it shows Clyde and his brother Buck getting arrested and sentenced to 2 years in jail.

The next scene is Bonnie working at a diner, and she has a conversation with Ted, who works at the sheriff's office and he invites her to go with him to a party.

After her shift ends, Bonnie runs into Clyde at the side of the road, with the car having been broken down and they start talking. This leads to the next song This World Will Remember Me, which is Clyde singing about all his aspirations and what he will do to make sure that he is remembered. The second verse of the song starts to include Bonnie in his visions, with him saying how he sees big things being possible for Bonnie and that she has the potential to do everything she dreams of, and she is very flattered to know that he can see that in her.

At this point too, Bonnie also becomes aware that he is ~lowkey~ on the run from having escaped from his prison sentence

So then it goes to Blanche's salon(she is Buck's wife) and Buck shows up, clearly expecting a warm welcome home, but what really happens is that she tells him he has to turn himself in to finish out his sentence so that they can start over clean after he serves his time. This is the next song You're Going Back to Jail, which is so fun because it's about Blanche telling Buck not to worry about her moving on from him with him being away, and telling her friends at the song to say how hard it is for them with their husband's in prison. But all they do is say about how great things are for them now that their husbands are gone lmao. So it's then settled that Buck is going to turn himself in the next day

Next we see Bonnie and Clyde on like a picnic, and she is reading to him poetry she wrote. And it's about Clyde and Billy the Kid, and it ends with Clyde getting shot at the end, and they bicker a lot in this scene and I love it so much. Bonnie then tells Clyde not to make fun of her poetry, and tells him that she's going to be a poet, and an actress, and a singer, and clyde then is like. Well why don't you sing something then. And then it's the next song which is How 'Bout a Dance. And in my very strong opinion, it is this koment in this song where Bonnie truly and irreversibly falls in love with Clyde and everything that follows becomes inevitable. Because after this song, she is never going to not follow him anywhere, and he is never going to go clean and so this song is really central to everything in the whole show. This song also book ends the show, with the instrumental playing at the very beginning, which I am aware I did not say before.

Anyways. Moving on.

There's then a short scene where Bonnie's mother catches Clyde in the house with Bonnie and she very much doesn't approve of him, revealing that Bonnie is already married. She knows her husband is never coming back though and he is literally completely irrelevant to everything forever. I think his name is Roy.

Clyde then takes Bonnie over to meet Buck and Blanche. This scene, we see that Bonnie and Blanche have kind of an instant 'rivalry' because Blanche does not approve of Clyde and his crimes at all, so she doesn't like Bonnie because if she is with him, she is clearly on board with it and is thus not her kind of person. This scene has the song When I Drive which is both Clyde amd Buck singing about how much they love being on the road. And it also features the like 'this is how I wanna live, I wanna die' which is like... I guess he gets his wish in the end??? Buck also reveals to Clyde that he and Blanche have decided that he is going to turn himself back to the authorities to finish out his sentence, and Clyde Does Not approve.

Next song is God's Arms are Always Open, which is sung by the preacher, saying that Buck is doing the right thing by turning himself in and that he will be forgiven for it. Throughout the later part of the song though, it is interspersed with mini clips of clyde commiting crimes, like car theft, and robberies. At the end he is caught and arrested, and is brought to prison where he is waiting for his sentence.

Bonnie goes to visit Clyde where she runs into Ted. The song You Can Do Better Than Him starts off being sung by Ted. Basically it's about how he remembers how innocent she was when she was younger and thinks she can do so much better than being with someone like Clyde. (He has feelings for her himself, if that wasn't clear). Later in the song Clyde joins in saying that she *could* find someone who is more conventionally 'better' but knows that she won't because they really do love each other.

When she gets home, Bonnie and her mother argue about Clyde, with her mother being very disapproving about who she is seeing. The song You Love Who You Love is a duet with Bonnie and Blanche, both singing about why they ate with their partners. I really like the line in this song 'You can't help how you're made/you don't have no say, your heart decides/It's that simple I'm afraid'. I just think the idea of your heart choosing who you fall in love with sounds very beautiful. And I also love the line 'And you never think what's down the road while the fairy tale seems real'.

NOW. We see Clyde in prison and they announce that his sentence is 16 years, and we see him being locked away. He is becoming more and more broken, being abused by both the guards and another prisoner named ed crowder. Bonnie comes to visit him and sees that he is injured and how horribly he is being treated. He tells her about a gun he has hidden and asks her to smuggle to him. This next song is Clyde's big song called Raise a Little Hell. He is so broken at this point and is very much the definition of 'nothing left to lose'. The big lyrics in the song are 'I won't get to heaven, why not raise a little hell', and it ends with him beating Ed crowder to death.

We see Bonnie arriving at the prison with the gun she is trying to get to clyde, and she is searched by the guard. He doesn't find the gun on her, and she passes it to Clyde in his cell. This is the act 1 finale with the song This World Will Remember Us. The first part of the song is Clyde busting out of prison, and the second part is him and Bonnie running away together. And important part in this song is that Clyde promises Bonnie that they will do a few more jobs to get some cash, and then they are going to hollywood so she can become an actress. And this song is just like. They've both just escaped from the lives they don't want, the future is wide open for them and they are *living* for it

So. "Apparently" there is a character limit of 4096 characters. I will reblog with Act II.

[thetonyestark]

“I saved the universe. You’re welcome.”

Still here, still Iron Man, and still way too good at everything. I took down Thanos, came back with a brand-new suit, and an even better attitude. Retirement? Nah, doesn’t suit me. These days, I’m balancing world-saving with keeping Spidey out of trouble, upgrading everything, and explaining to Captain America what TikTok is (don’t ask).

On this page, you’ll find life-changing tech tips, tales from the Avengers Tower, and top-tier snark with a side of science. It’s like a TED Talk, but with a lot more sarcasm and explosions. Stick around if you want a masterclass in awesome. Just remember, no refunds.

(Here’s some info about my Tony!)

-He doesn’t have a Morgan or pepper because he went a little crazy trying to get Peter back soo…

-He snapped and survived

-and the typical thing of fics: he has a right prosthetic arm, diminished vision in the right eye, diminished hearing on the right side, and scaring along his right side from the radiation!

-He’s an old man, but hey! He’s trying his best and he’s still that danger loving genius you know and love!

Message from the creator;

DNI Starker (Please, Tony and Peter are a father and son not boyfriends…)

Dni Harley/Tony

DNI Obie/tony

No nsfw please <3

Creator is new to the Tony stark areas of roleplay, but they’re trying their best lol

Also you should totally check out my other roleplay blog @officialeddiebrock

[utilitycaster]

You commented on not being a fan of non-pc pov scenes in ap, something that Aabria used in the first go of exu (which was one of the main things that put me off of it, tbh). Do you have any thoughts on how this is applied in EXU compared to WBN?

So for EXU there's some parts that are better, and some that are worse. The good thing is that they're very brief snapshots vs. the one in WBN that was like, an extended several-minute scene. I also actually kind of like the ones for Ted, since that makes sense; we know it's impossible to really get Ted's perspective otherwise and you can kind of handwave it as being related to Opal and floating about in her unconscious.

The ones for My'ratta and Poska on the other hand, while again, brief, sort of underscore their lack of development. We did not know what Myr'atta wanted until episode 93 of Campaign 3, and as I've said before I literally could not tell you what the goal of the Nameless Ones or Poska is. They serve no purpose narratively except as a ticking clock and shadowy threat to get the Crown Keepers to leave a place quickly.

I mentioned Otohan in my original post on this topic as an example of an underdeveloped antagonist, something Brennan mentioned as something he hoped to avoid, and Myr'atta, Poska, and Otohan are all ultimately cut from the same cloth: cool aesthetic, cool abilities, and a severe lack of in-game development. I don't know what motivates them (or in Myr'atta's case, didn't while they were an ongoing part of the story) and so they all bore me. They are flat, dull villains who say threatening shit that means nothing because I don't know what drives them. I don't want to keep getting into it because it kind of derailed my original point anyway but what frustrates me the most is how people keep saying "oh but I'm sure they have a motivation." Like yeah bitch. I'm sure they do. The GM has a responsibility to convey that in-game. And they can do so subtly! Believe me, I am glad to do the work of unpicking motivation from allusions or what is carefully unsaid; this is what makes Ludinus and Liliana (and Lolth in EXU) interesting! But it's telling that whenever I'm like "what the fuck does this character do other than serve the purpose of a Plot Device to either threaten or move the characters", no one ever like, explains their motivation to me; it's always "give it time! I'm sure the GM has something in mind." Well, both Myr'atta and Otohan died before we got that (we still don't have it for Otohan) so I think we can safely say the waiting game is for suckers. Like, if you like characters based on aesthetic alone that's valid as a choice, but I'm not taking your meta or arguments seriously because that's a superficial judgment.

It's also frustrating because it's like...the GMs and the fans who keep insisting to be PATIENT long after a boring antagonist has worn out their welcome for me are simultaneously like "the audience will not remember this guy if I don't shove them in their face in a stilted cutscene" and also "clearly, the audience will infer that this boring-ass antagonist MUST have something deeper going on and therefore they will extend credit indefinitely." It's the absolute opposite of what they should be prioritizing. Instead of trying to jingle the antagonist in front of me like keys while still doing nothing to develop their personality, maybe have the party...idk, have a vision. find a letter. learn something secondhand from someone talking in a bar that sheds light on their motivation.

In WBN it's actually a totally different problem. The scene is 100% unnecessary. We know what the Man in Black wants. We know what's going on with him. We know his goals and his allies. We saw him only a couple episodes ago and he's been a topic of discussion throughout a good chunk of the arc. Hell, we even know how dope-ass his aesthetic is. This is just showing something the party doesn't know and can't act on, for several minutes of Brennan talking to himself, and I think it actually destroys what would be a gut-punch of undead Sir Curran showing up on the opposite side of Eursulon, whose entire deal is being inspired by him.

So: The EXU scenes are less intrusive for their brevity, the fact that the Ted ones are pretty good, and that at least they don't spoil a moment, but at the same time they still don't solve the problem of an underdeveloped antagonist for Myr'atta and Poska. The WBN scene meanwhile drags on, and actually does too much by taking what could be an unbelievably devastating reveal and having it happen when Eursulon isn't even there to respond. I couldn't tell if this actually spoiled it for Lou, since they record well in advance, but if it did that's such a missed opportunity.

Anyway I think my point is that (with the exception of the very first scene of a campaign that is setting the stage, before the PCs are introduced) these cutscenes only work if they are extremely short and purely for vague flavor. I think if you want to have a scene with no PCs present, you should perhaps write a book or a screenplay instead of playing D&D.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Friday, August 9th

BUFFYBOT: (OS) Anya! BUFFYBOT: How is your money? ANYA: (laughs in surprise) Fine. Thank you for asking.

~~Intervention~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Back-up Plans by veronyxk84 (Spike & Clem, PG-13)

Who's a Good Kitten? by Anonymous (Angelus/Fred, M)

Scientific Inquiry by Anonymous (Angel/Spike/Maggie Walsh, E)

The Other Side of Corporeal by Anonymous (Angel/Darla/Drusilla/Spike, M)

Expectations by mmooch (Buffy, Big Bang Theory crossover, T)

Favours and Flowers by Diary (Angel, Fred, Supernatural crossover, G)

Dreamt of Drowning by Anonymous (Spike/Drusilla, T)

Willow tells Xander she's bisexual by Johanna6Cats (Willow/Xander, G)

The Taste Of A Heart Beating by Geliot99 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Buffy season 8 " Wicked me", Chapter 8 by FreyStewart (Buffy/Angel, not rated)

Slayer & Rose Bride, Chapter 11 (complete!) by acpendra, Sparkle 94 (acpendra) (Buffy, Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena crossover, M)

Darkness and Desire - Book - 01 - Hex Born, Chapter 7 by zxandris (Buffy, Willow, Tara, multiple crossovers, E)

Enter Sunnydale, Chapter 3 by Philister (Faith, Transformers crossover, M)

Further From Home, Chapter 2 by zombiesam (Buffy/Giles, E)

Who Are You Now? Chapter 2 by Mirrored_Illusions (Buffy, NCIS crossover, G)

School of Hard Knocks, Chapter 11 (complete!) by Melme1325 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Rebirth: A Stargate Tale, Chapter 12 by Buffyworldbuilder (Ensemble, Stargate crossover, FR13)

2024 FaD Tribbles, Chapter 2 by mmooch (Oz, Harry Potter crossover, FR13)

What the Drabble? Vol. 2, Chapter 58 by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Tale as Old as Time, Chapter 14 (complete!) by honeygirl51885 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Task Mistress, Chapters 2-4 by HappyWhenItRains (Buffy/Spike, R)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Manip: There is a Geppetto in the house! by KneeHighMischief (Puppet!Angel, worksafe)

Screencaps with lyrics: Lyrical, Chapters 1-11 by scratchmeout (PG-13)

Artwork: Spike by isevery0nehereverystoned (partial nudity, probably worksafe)

Artwork: they've probably had better dates... by mistyintherivers (Giles/Jenny, worksafe)

Artwork: a little buffy drawing by teenaween (worksafe)

Artwork: Joyce has invited him to bookclub before without a DOUBT! by tothetoonandback (Spike & Joyce, worksafe)

Fanvid: ► Dynasty [Buffy & Stefan] by WeCanTry (The Vampire Diaries crossover)

Fanvid: Cordelia Chase - Primadonna Girl by TheOverlookedOne

Fanvid: Forsaken: Buffy v Lestat ("Official Trailer) by Brendan Ryan

Artwork: My kinda ok #btvs #drawings ❤️ by Wolvyn Woods (Buffy, Faith, Tara, Willow, Spike, worksafe)

Fanvid: Buffy & Angel - I Dont Care (remake) by Angelus_Clips

Fanvid: Buffy + Angel She’s my wind by AshleyBurchettAJLeefanlove23love

Fanvid: Wesley&Lilah | Vampire Smile by 1SnoWhiteQueen1

Music video: Are You Afraid of Buffy's Goosebumps? - CRACK HORROR | Official Video | by Whalley Exchange

[Reviews & Recaps]

Video: LET'S TALK ABOUT BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER by I RAMBLE A LOT

Video: My thoughts on Buffy the Vampire Slayer by The Autistic Buffy

Video: Buffy 2.11 Ted by Jen Katz and Ryan Something

Video: BUFFY the VAMPIRE SLAYER already has me HOOKED by Ashleigh Burton

Video: The Dated Vision of Buffy’s 23rd Century Future by PanelHopper

Video: Analyzing Buffy: Do You Wanna Hear My Philosophy? | 1x01: Welcome to the Hellmouthby The Bronze

Video: Analyzing Buffy by The Bronze

Video: Same Time, Same Place-Slayer Sunday by Jane Talks Buffy

Podcast: Twice More With Irony - A Full MUSICAL Review of 'Once More With Feeling' by Beer with Buffy

Podcast: DORPCast 247 - Buffy und Angel by DORP

Podcast: Buffy 2.12 Bad Eggs by Once More: A Rewatch Podcast

[Search & Recs]

Looking for [Spuffy or Spike/OC] fanfic recommendations by Ok-Olive-4048

Art rec: Darla/Drusilla (not worksafe) by drea.d.art, recced by roselynnthornwood

[Community Announcements]

Video: Slayerfest '24 Readathon Announcement - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Readathon! by Rescues and Reads

[Fandom Discussions]

btvs is just a seven year long competition between buffy and giles to see who can be the most unhinged depressed bisexual by comradesummers

A large portion of the issue with spike’s soul by greensaplinggrace

the scoobies were really the worst friend group ever by latrodectal

Okay, so... The Body... by redhatmeg

Never Kill a Boy on the First Date Fashion Part One by theoverlookedoneedits1997

Genuine Buffy/Angel Question by annarowyn

it’s so important that in Chosen (7x22) [Buffy] didn’t end up with either [Angel or Spike] by fictiongods

buffy you cannot seriously be comparing what willow did to sleeping with spike by justsolas

My dislike for Ensouled Spike with Buffy doesn't come from a place of not liking their relationship or preferring Angel by mortalaf

i think angel would have been a 1000% better character if they just put him in more situations by not worksafe

Why I was more invested in Spuffy than Bangel by peppermintquartz

Who the fuck curses a vampire with ... by sympathischeufos

Buffy rewatch podcast with Juliet Landau continued by Dogs of Winter

Rewatch thoughts and questions continued by multiple posters

I have never fully understood this joke [Wesley's in Underneath] by AndrewHeard

Please I need closure, and can’t get a clear answer. Shanshu… by Altruistic-Salt-8303

Having a brain fog here but help… [the blood on Robin Wood's knife] by Trixieswizzle

Sometimes the recaps at the start of episodes skip some lines from the original dialogue. This is my favourite of those by Baron_Butterfly

Which antagonist did the most damage? by jdpm1991

If you guys were a vampire just chillin' in a graveyard late at night by Spyderwarp55

Totally forgot how they gave Faith an accent in the beginning by VisibleCoat995

Buffy's Complex Release: Emotion vs. Desire by Interesting-Tea3907

What is the best order to watch? by wildguitars

Who is your absolute favorite character in the Buffyverse and why? by hatcherry

Which unheard OMWF song would you most like to hear? by MonsterTournament

Who has the better nonexistent, faux-British accent? by nowlan101

A small and fairly insignificant question about the season 5 finale by nickel4asoul

How did Buffy not realize who Robin was? by bluish-velvet

AU Scenario Swap! Angelus Chipped & Spike Remains Evil by orchid-noogie

Reboot? by sluteeprncss

Who looks more like their actor in the comics? by jdpm1991

I'm so mad the Slayers didn't get a wage by Suitable_cataclysm

Tara's name by MissSpooky69

Graduation Day, the poison and The Mayor by yukeee

Video: Buffy and Angel- The relationship that should have been? In under 3 minutes!" by BingeTalkTV

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Join the editor team :)

[justkillingthyme]

Silly thought abt the Mystery images

I like how Descole isn't looking in the same direction as his past identities, bc it symbolize more how he distanced himself from his own past identities.

YRAH YRAH YEAH. OUGHHHGGHGHGHHHH. OUGH.

Ok I have thoughts that may or may not be coherent here but here goes:

Desmond and Hershel are facing the same way and Descole isn’t, and I think it’s actually a reverse of what’s being expected of them in the sense of who they are, but also can work that way too.

Hershel is looking forward, trying to keep everything together and get Theo out. Then he leaves home, carving his own future. Same applies to Desmond, starting a family and becoming successful and moving on from his childhood. But Descole is the opposite. Descole is looking back, unable to move past what happened to his family (both of them). He’s unable to look forward because he’s already decided that he has one purpose, and that he’s nothing but a shell.

In contract, it also works as the image is presented. Hershel looking back, remaining within the Bronev house. Desmond looking back, keeping in contact with Hershel’s parents and pursuing archaeology. Descole looking forward, deciding to get revenge and pursue something doggedly rather than to simply die with his family as he says Desmond did.

Then there’s also Hershel smiling, happy, Desmond unreadable, and Descole taking off the glasses. Leaving it behind.

Something something I hope you guys see my vision and welcome to my Ted talk.

[aikoiya]

Jazz as Altair (The Bluebird of Gotham)

This is based on @tireduniversityscam's Halfa Jazz with Parent Syndrome au, a.k.a. BrucexJazz & @lordgrimoire's Bluebird vigilante Jazz.

I'm thinking that Jazz's vigilante name could be either Altair after the bluebird star (as homage to her brother, the astronerd) or just simply The Bluebird. As bluebirds represent hope, love, renewal, optimism, joy, as well as symbolizing the essence of life & beauty. Not to mention Immortality.

Also, seeing a bluebird after a death represents that the soul of your lost loved one has reached the afterlife. So, seeing her tends to give comfort to those who've lost loved ones.

I see her looking like this:

But maybe with her hair more resembling mist instead of water should her main element be wind instead of water to go with the bluebird aesthetic. Same color, but mist.

Here's a close up of her hat:

I see her using a Fenton Whiplash (just an anti-ecto whip) or just being able to form her ectoplasm into a whip. Either/or.

Also, this mask:

This is her with the mask:

If not a trenchcoat, then a blue cape that fans out to look like bird wings when she's flying. Like the Roc's Cape from LoZ: Minish Cap.

I always hc'd that she'd have psychic empathy, minor clairvoyance, minor mindreading, & telekinesis as a halfa cus it seems the sort of thing she'd have. She comes across as very psychic oriented.

Plus, Spectral Acknowledgement, which is a fun power:

Again, her primary core element could be either water or wind.

I see her having a ghost sense, it being a family thing. However, hers would be different based on her element. If water, it works like sonar & is more close range than Danny's & when it goes off, her eyes get watery, a single stream of tears falling from her eyes. I don't know how it'd manifest with wind, though.

I see Jazz taking the role of a medium as a vigilante. Helping Shades to move on. The Shades I think of is inspired by the ghosts from the Blackwell games & when doing medium things, Jazz tends to do similar things as in the game. Helping the Shades to get to a point where they can move on, which can result in them becoming ecto-ghosts later. However, helping Shades to fulfill whatever is keeping them on earth makes it less likely for them to become ecto-ghosts & more likely to move onto whatever is next. If she just fights them & sucks them up into a thermos, they're more likely to turn into ecto-ghosts & possibly come back. The reason being that emotional attachments, unfinished business, & so on, causes strong, often distressed emotions, which attracts ectoplasm & causes it to stick to a soul. The more ectoplasm sticks to a soul, eventually it'll form a core which is how ecto-ghosts come into being. At least, when spirits of the dead are involved.

For more on the formation of ghosts, go here:

Seriously, the Blackwell series is great & you should definitely go play it or watch someone else play it.

Anyway, Jazz does regular vigilante stuff too, but I feel like this would give her a bit of mystique as a hero. It also meshes well with her therapist focus.

I see her originally patrolling from just before midnight to just after dawn, but after Duke joins, she extended her schedule to midday in case he needs help. She works between midnight & dawn because that's the timeframe where ghosts, spirits, shades, & other such spectral entities are the strongest & cause the most disturbances with 3:00 am being when it peaks.

As for Jason as the Cardinal, I think this would look good for his mask:

Also, one of these hooded jackets:

They're freaking badass!

No helmet & give him a red bird symbol on his chest.

Everything else could match with the second jacket's outfit though.

This is also a really cool design for halfa Jason:

I love the design for his hair, especially the little shadowy flame for that little tuft.

I just really like the idea of Jason with shadow powers, like from @dxrksong.

One of his powers is being able to control his shadow. However, he doesn't have full-on umbramancy. Rather, like I said, he can only control his shadow. At the same time, he can cover himself in it for added protection & it gives him an aura like black flames licking over his skin. He can also make shadowy claws out of them for added melee. It's metal af, okay?

His shadow is controlled entirely by his wants, so it can do a lot of things similar to what Dr. Facilier could in Princess & the Frog.

While he can't control the shadows of others, if he makes his shadow touch other shadows, like if his shadow strangled another person's shadow, it'd result in the owner of said shadow choking for real.

At the same time, saving one's self from said shadow is as simple as shining a bright light all around themselves so that the shadow can't come near.

If they're in an alley at night with no lights, then the shadow can navigate the walls & surfaces unseen as it blends in perfectly.

Can also merge with his shadow & travel through shadows or jump from shadowy spot to shadowy spot.

Also, All-Blades are necessary. I dunno how, but they are.

[windydrawallday]

Where do you find inspiration and motivation to make art? Is there a process to the whole mental prep for creating?

(Love your art so I thought I would ask :D)

You want me to make a TED Talk about art? Because that is what this will be coff

Inspiration comes from everywhere for me! I think it helps to have not only an open mind but also the spirit of an infant: get awestruck by what nature, science, history, culture, etc. offers. Even between my everyday activities, I find myself asking about how it felt for the first human to discover they could cook their food, or experimenting with so many shapes for pasta to get sauce stuck to it! I'm that silly.

Because most if not all things were already thought of if not invented by someone: we have so much heritage. We are blessed to have access to all this information and tools. Don't feel afraid to reference them! To dig critically into the work of someone else you feel it vibes with you and make it yours, too. Is healthy. Is good!

That ties in with one of the processes that helps me yank the abstract clay from my head to the canvas: making MOOD BOARDS!* I use them mostly to nail the visual style I want for illustrations (almost all my zine pics started with a mood board):

I use a similar method but call them MUSE BOARDS when working with character's archetypes, mannerisms, behaviors, etc I want to portray both accurately and with personal twists:

*Some prefer to call them aesthetic boards because of how the internet bastardized the use of the word for gif sets but ask a graphic or fashion designer, architect, etc; the term for a collage of visual references that are usually static IS mood board.

Tho, lately, during these weeks dealing with the burnout and gnawing art block, another thing became my motivation to keep doing art... and I'll put it under the cut because it can be quite dark for some (CW mention of death/mortality themes):

Probably I'll sound cynical and/or edgy for saying this but it's the truth:

One of these days, I could die (not by my own hand but this world is bigger and powerful than me, I can't control everything in it) and all those ideas and visions I never put on paper, will die with me.

And so, when I'm struggling with a part of the process during a piece and find myself wanting to quit, I say: If I give up now, I'm letting the idea die before I step into the graveyard.

When I'm killing my ideas, I'm killing myself, slowly. And I don't want that.

I go back to the canvas and try, TRY and T R Y. Until the idea comes out.

Probably incomplete. For sure imperfect. Still a work in progress.

But out of my mortal brain.

Flesh of paper, blood of ink. Colors of pixels, layers upon layer of illusory ligh and shadows.

Mine and at the same time, for the world. It's free now to be welcomed by other minds, to be wanted and played by other hearts.

It's immortal, it can inspire people beyond my reach. Even after I'm not here in constant presence.

Isn't that enough motivation?

I got overboard with this but I hope it doesn't sound too overdramatic orz I needed this out of my chest too haha

THANK YOU for your interest! Is always welcomed ✨✨✨✨✨

[unanchored-ship]

Amaneros 1-3-15 and also for you I) for the OC ask

Hi hello welcom to my ted talk

1. How long can she sit still with nothing to do? Well, she loves socializing! Normally you could give her maybe an hour but that's it. She is out for romance and intrigue!! When solemn she could probably sit still for a whole day though. Sad moments really weigh her down since she's used to sunshine. One of the few untraumatized ocs I have!

3. How does she put herself to bed? She daydreams herself to sleep. Like me. (wouldn't it be nightdreaming then? night visions?? nightly hallucinations???) She thinking of all the ships and sailors, both canon and uncanon...

15. How does she speak? (On the spot or rehearsing in mind before saying it) She says shit straight up right away no second thought. She's really nice though so feelings aren't usually hurt! Only thing you gotta watch out for are her random ship comments. She sees it and she says it. No hesitation. Oh you two are cute! When do you fuck? Where's the wedding taking place? First kiss when?? So yeah 👍

I) Do I prefer keeping her in her canon universe? OH HECK NAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! Her canon universe is where a bunch of biology thingies are personified. She's a dendritic cell :] There's a second canon universe for her where she is a human who can time jump on her ship. However, staying within these two AUs limits her ability to ship!! She gets access to ALL MY UNIVERSES!

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

I'm sorry to say that today hasn't been a very fruitful writing day. But I did get a scene with Tyvokka and Jaster written down. Pretty much, the only context needed is Tyvokka comes to Jaster to warn him about a Force vision he's seen with the warning that you shouldn't take it as a forgone conclusion and there's always a choice or a path that will bring that particular future about. So you know, your basic Jedi nonsense which Mando soooooo love to hear. I quickly debated Tyvokka giving Jaster the ol' shovel talk but truthfully? I kinda hate them. It usually comes across kinda possessive of the person you're trying to warn the party off of them. Not to mention taking way their agency and right to make their own choices. It’s got this icky connotation that the one giving the shove talk doesn’t trust the person to be an adult etc. Maybe they don’t want you to fight their own battles for them and wow welcome to my anti-shovel talk Ted Talk.

I DID think about doing a reverse shovel talk and having Jaster go in expecting the 'Don't you hurt my son' talk. And thought instead. "Be careful that my son does not hurt you. He's a Jedi and he will always choose his duties over you' sorta speech. Cause I love my expectation subversion. Not too sold on this but we'll see. As always, super rough draft, no editing blah blah blah. I might end up switching up the quotation marks on Tyvokka's speech to the same « » thingies they use in the comics. Though I feel like that is just them translating Shyriiwook. We'll see. I'm not completely in love with this scene and may end up re-doing it. Tyvokka seems remarkable chill over Plo kinda skating the edge of acceptable Jedi behavior in having a regular romantic partner.

I might have him give him a come to Jesus speech, I don't know. Again ugh I hate it and it's kinda troperiffic too. But I figure from the Jedi side of things the person who would totally be able to read through Jaster and Plo's super bad attempts at hiding their relationship would be Tyvokka. So we'll see, I suppose? Also wow El how many times can you say we'll see I suppose in the span of two paragraphs? A shit ton, I suppose.

“You are talking like this is some holonovel where good defeats evil and everyone lives happily ever after. But real life isn’t like that, Mandalorian. It isn’t that neat or tidy.” Tyvokka didn’t mince words and while it was strange hearing the crisp Core-worlds Coruscanti accent try to convey the same level of gruff harshness that he could hear in the Wookie’s actual tone of voice. 

But honestly, Jaster could appreciate that brutal honesty. 

“Alright, fine, I will try not to let my hatred for Tor make me stupid.” 

“Good. There is one other thing, this was much more....nebulous. I think there may be a traitor in your camp. Or at least one who has ill intentions. I could not see that detail very clearly, but some kind of betrayal is what will set you on the path toward the destruction that I foresaw.”

“That’s not saying a lot, I’m sorry to say. Half of them barely want to be here and are probably secretly hoping this whole affair crashes and burns.” Jaster felt awful that when he said that, his mind immediately went to Montross and the sort of cold war the two’s once strong partnership had devolved into. 

“That division in your ranks might explain what I was sensing, but I suspect there is more to it. I will meditate on this.” 

“I won’t lie, it all sounds a little far-fetched to me but I have spent enough time around Plo Koon to know that the Force <I>osik</I> you Jedi get up to is real enough. And I am man enough to admit that I don’t know or am capable of understanding the many and varied workings of the universe around me.”

Tyvokka eyed the Mandalorian curiously and with piercing golden eyes. He’d heard enough false modesty to recognize when someone was putting on a facade and Jaster Mereel was not. It didn’t exactly fit with the image he had of what a Mandalorian would be. 

At first, when he’d heard of the strange friendship between Plo and this Mandalorian, it had sounded like one of the most bizarre things he’d heard in his many centuries of living. 

He’d long suspected there might be more to that friendship and while as a Jedi, he did not wish to see Plo Koon come to a point where he might have to choose between his duties as a Jedi and his curious choice of lovers. 

The part of him that had nurtured and cared for the boy like he was his own wanted to see him happy. And this man seemed to make him happy so really, what more could he ask for? 

“You’re looking at me like you’re considering which kind of wine my liver would best pair with again.” The human joked and Tyvokka snorted inelegantly. 

“I was never fond of liver anyway. Now kidneys on the other hand. And humans have two, right? Even better.” 

He half expected the man to wince or cringe back, but the Mandalorian was made of sterner stuff and just laughed sharply. 

“Hands off my kidneys and my liver. I’m using them.”

“You’re the one who keeps mentioning me eating them. How was I to know you were not making me some strange Mandalorian offering?”

“I know we have a reputation for being rough and uncivilized but even we don’t participate in cannibalism.” Jaster snorted and climbed to his feet carefully. “I appreciate the heads up though. Seriously. Stars know when it comes to Tor Vizsla, I tend to get tunnel vision.”

“You must learn to let that anger and hate go, Mandalorian. That is the path to the Dark side. You may not be a Jedi but it can still taint your heart and poison your mind.”

“Easier said than done, I am afraid.”

“Anything worth doing is never easy. Even we Jedi struggle with our own inner demons and temptations from the Dark side. Anger and hatred are uncomplicated emotions, but ultimately, they are hollow and leave you feeling unsatisfying. That is what makes them so dangerous.” 

The dark-haired human had a strange look on his face, one that Tyvokka couldn’t quite parse out despite his centuries of dealing with his kind. 

“Some interesting food for thought.” 

[aikoiya]

I actually really like the use of Christian ideas.

I do something similar, but still very different with my headcanons, but don't really mention the Elsewhereness.

Moments in Time #1: A Divine Analogy

Synopsis: Clockwork explains to Danny why no one can simply fly to the Elsewhereness.

About my Moments in Time series.

------

I've always been fascinated by thoughts of how heaven, hell and purgatory fit into the Danny Phantom universe. I'm also fascinated by questions of how the Ghost Zone works physically. Where does it exist in the cosmos? What is the science behind how someone travels from one dimension to the next?

As I was pondering all this one night, I began to imagine what a conversation between Danny and Clockwork would look like if Clockwork were to explain how to get to the Elsewhereness. What kinds of analogies would he use? Thus, this scene was born.

(As an aside, I'm glad Butch Hartman confirmed the existence of the Elsewhereness. I always assumed that heaven was canon to the show, given Hartman is religious, but it's nice to have confirmation. It gives me something concrete to work with.)

I also imagined another conversation between Danny and Clockwork about how the Ghost Zone works in relation to realms like the Earth, the Elsewhereness, the Unworld, and so on. I'll post that one too if I can get the conversation to sound compelling enough. But for now, I'm just thrilled that this one is making its Tumblr debut!

Without further ado...

------

“...So, how come no one except this ‘Sojourn’ guy has been able to find the Elsewhereness?”

Clockwork smirks; Danny gets the odd sense that he is excited to explain this to him. “You know the story of Genesis, yes?”

Danny nods, though a second later, he brings his hand to the back of his neck and rubs it shyly. “Yeah... I mean, I’ve never been religious, but everyone knows the story of Genesis.”

“That is no matter,” says Clockwork, nodding encouragingly. “What is important is that you know.”

He dives into his analogy with hushed gusto. “Imagine that at the beginning of the Earth, there is a doorway in the Garden of Eden that leads directly to heaven. The first humans can use it to travel between Earth and heaven freely, whenever they want to.

“However, on the day of humanity’s fall, God closes the door and decrees that it shall remain closed forever. In fact, he doesn’t just close it; he destroys it. This doorway will never exist ever again, no matter how hard anyone tries to find it or reopen it. It is closed as completely as if it never existed at all.

“Now, you tell me: if someone born after the fall of man wanted to find this doorway, how would they do it? And before you ask: yes, there is a solution.”

Danny’s eyes bug out a little; he didn’t expect Clockwork to subject him to some impossible logic problem. He gets enough of this nonsense in school. His gaze darts this way and that as he rapidly seeks his bearings. “Um... It’s not prayer, is it?”

“No – though that would certainly help.” Clockwork smiles patiently. “The person in question is irreligious.”

If he were in any setting other than here, in Clockwork’s tower, Danny would have floundered on this until his asker took pity on him and gave him the answer. But as his gaze falls onto Clockwork’s timeless form, a surprisingly practical solution comes to him. “Could they... travel back in time?”

Pride brightens Clockwork’s features, and he nods. Danny is instantly sure that Clockwork already knew he would provide the right answer, so the fact that he was overcome with such pride anyway leaves Danny feeling surprisingly moved.

“Yes!” he exclaims. “No matter how fervently they may try, no human would ever find the doorway to heaven because they can only move forward, further and further from the day it was closed. But if they were to move backward, they would eventually arrive at a time when the doorway is perfectly usable.

“But there’s still a problem with this, isn’t there?” Clockwork beat him to it; Danny was already beginning to shift uncomfortably. “Humans can’t go back in time. So how would they get there?” A sparkle is in his eye as their gazes meet. “How would you get there?”

I would ask you to take me. Danny’s discomfort comes to a head. “You’re not about to tell me you single-handedly take the dead to the Elsewhereness, are you?”

A small, fond chuckle escapes Clockwork, and Danny’s discomfort is relieved. “Ah... If only it were that simple. No, I do not know the way to the Elsewhereness, but you have the right of it – the only way someone can get there is if one of its residents leads them there. Only they know the way. The rest of us are so blind that even if we were to find the path, we would wander off it immediately and not realize our mistake.”

The rest of the tension leaves Danny, making him once again a curious young charge in his mentor’s tower. “But do they actually have to go back in time?”

Clockwork smirks. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. That is merely an analogy.”

Danny falls silent for a moment as he considers all this. He’d like to know what the path is really like, but something tells him his mind would explode if he tried to make sense of it. Besides, Clockwork appears to be just as stuck on this side of “Elsewhere” as he is. So instead, he asks, “Do you think Sojourn was just a resident of the Elsewhereness this whole time?”

Clockwork leans back, tapping his chin. For the first time, Danny feels like this is a question they’re working out together. “No – or, at least, probably not. Scarce have I gotten wind of what is contained within his writings, but what little I do know seems to suggest that he was no different from us. Just a normal ghost who persevered until the cosmos itself could no longer deny him.”

It’s Danny’s turn to chuckle. “Well, I’m hardly a ‘normal ghost,’ but I get your point.”

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Clockwork loves making time-related analogies. 😝

Thank you so much for being part of the first Danny Phantom fanfic I've ever posted to Tumblr!