#and then he nuked the entire earth

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 257

Now Danny loves space. He loves everything about it, to the point his core quite literally is space. And he’s also a baby ghost, even if he could argue he’s not in human form. But see, being baby has an honestly great consequence once it’s noticed- despite the Observants’ best attempts at hiding it, the assholes. 

Of course he would be far more worried- and even a bit pissed- if his caretaker wasn’t who it was. Look, he’d never met Clockwork’s siblings before, but apparently everyone was really against Clockwork himself adopting. 

But Clockwork as his uncle is fine. Besides, his caretaker is Space! Space itself is holding him, cooing gentle words in the sounds of the very cosmos. And they’re huge, like parts of their body going through portals so they can fit outside Long-Now sized big- and apparently Clockwork can get just as big and they can get even bigger- 

Okay, he needs to take a breath- even if he doesn’t need to breathe- to stop his squealing because holy Realms this is so cool. 

Space is awesome! And he’s getting so much more rest than he did in Amity- and even if Space sort of shrugged at the idea of school at first, they did help him set up online schooling. So there’s that, and it’s just the start! 

He gets to learn so much about space and it’s honestly kind of… nice? To be taken care of? And he can do whatever he needs for his Core and Obsession with only a few interruptions to take care of his living needs. Erm, sort of living needs? 

But even that gets turned into a bit of play or even a lesson too! He’s honestly having such a good time right now! He’s learning so much about spaaace! And dimensions! And interdimensional portals and- oops! No one saw that. 

Ahem- But he’s learning so much about space and getting to explore other dimensions with Cosmos! And sure he no longer looks as human as he once did and all that, but he’s seen so many people who also don’t look human that does it really matter? 

Of course it doesn’t, and he matches his sort-of-dad! Even though the streaks of color in their hair are more of a brown-red like they’re literally bleeding out the cosmos around them instead of it fading to void and space like his own. But still! They match and it’s fun! 

And they’re going to go on another trip from the in-between to one of the dimension realities! He’s going to start a game of tag this time he thinks! But no cheating with portals or bending space! Tag! 

Look, the Justice League? Not paid enough for this. In fact, technically not paid at all due to being volunteers (not that it stopped them from finding money in their accounts) but still. 

There is some sort of figure… being… thing… zooming around the asteroid belt, about the size of Earth itself. Let them repeat themselves. A planet-sized creature (are those hands or paws? Tail or simply its body stretching? Hair or the Abyss-) is currently darting around the asteroid belt like a child running through grass. 

That is, without noticing or caring if something bug-sized might be crushed. And they are very much bug sized, as the governments are concerned about. Like really concerned about. Like talking about trying to nuke the entity if it wanders closer sort of concerned. 

Which they are all very concerned and very much like, against. Because it isn’t seeming to notice the asteroids it’s knocking into their area. It’s like… not a space whale or eel or anything like that but also is something like that. 

And they would also maybe like to see if they can attempt to talk it down first maybe and-

oh. 

Oh. 

That creature is the baby. And mama just arrived, stretching across the entire galaxy, from them to Pluto and beyond, like something took the cosmos and shaped it like clay into some sort of form. Like reality itself has wandered into their galaxy with what they are suddenly realizing must be a very young child. 

Shit, they really have to make sure no one tries to piss either of these things off-

#Prompts #DCxDP #DPxDC #Danny is like Lil Baby Man compared to Cosmos #But he’s the same size as the world too lol #Space Core Danny #Clockwork is a triplet lol #Clockwork Chaos & Cosmos the children of Infinity & Reality #Let Primordials & Ancients be Eldritch #Are those stars or eyes? Hair or strands of time? Clothes or the fabric of reality? Wound or black hole? #Danny: I am doin good at hidin- the best at hide and seek #Cosmos veery slowly floating after: Oh nooo where has my ghostling hid where could they have goone to *knows exactly where he is* #Can they *technically* go smaller? Yeah but they’re used to where All of Space-Dimension-Portals meets #Danny is Not ghost king he’s bby Space Ancient #Why were people against Clockwork adopting? He never finished divorcing Pariah before he got thrown in the nap box

[softgreengrass]

I’ll Survive

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: happy then sad then happy, requested, supersoldier!r but it’s not relevant to plot

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: death, grief

A/N: thanks for the request!

You and Natasha are in the gym when FRIDAY calls a meeting.

“Come on, is that all you got?” she grins, leaning into the punching bag with all her weight.

You fire a few more jabs, and her feet slip back a little. Sweat rolls down your forehead.

“Attention, all,” FRIDAY’s voice rings out. “Mission briefing in the conference room. 10 minutes.”

You don’t stop your barrage of punches, your eyes locked onto the Avengers logo in the center of the bag.

“You sure you’re ready to get back into it?” Natasha asks.

You’ve been coming off of an injury for a few months now. Bad intel, a trap, a bullet straight through your femur — being on bedrest was your seventh circle of hell.

Instead of answering, you wind your fist back and hit the bag hard enough to send it flying across the room, taking Natasha with it. She slams against the wall and laughs.

You wipe your face with a towel before walking over and kicking the bag away from her. “Sorry.”

“Super soldiers,” she mutters, shaking her head.

You offer her a hand. She takes it, rising to her feet, and leans into your chest. Butterflies shoot through your stomach.

“You sure you’re ready?” she asks softly.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes flick down to your lips, and you pull her into a slow kiss. Her hands find the back of your neck, lace through your hair. It only lasts a few seconds before she swipes her foot behind your leg and shoves your shoulders hard.

You land flat on your back with a groan.

“10 minutes, killer,” she smirks. “And don’t ever do that again.”

You’re the last one in the conference room, and there are no seats left around the table. Cap shoots you a disapproving glance as you close the door behind you.

“Hope no one made any weekend plans,” Cap clears his throat. “Because we’re heading to Russia.”

Tony groans obnoxiously. “Come on, really?”

The holographic screen suspended above the table turns on, showing the floor plans of the Kremlin. Everyone falls silent.

“This isn’t a villain of the week, guys,” Steve sighs. “Hell, it’s not even HYDRA.”

You whistle, and Rhodey glares at you.

“As far as we can tell, the Russian government is doing this entirely of their own accord. The only one pulling the strings is Putin.”

“What are they doing?” Clint asks, leaning back in his chair.

“They want to put nukes in space.” Steve presses his clicker and the screen shows the earth and a dozen orbits around it. “That’s a one-way ticket to world war three.”

“And you want us to, what, eat the nukes?” Tony asks.

Cap clenches his jaw. “The Department of Defense wants us to make sure they don’t launch. My plan makes sure Putin won’t ever get the chance to.”

“You want to assassinate him?” Natasha asks quickly.

Steve faces her. “I want you to.”

Your eyes meet Natasha’s through the projection, and you swallow.

“He’s gotta be the most well-protected guy on the planet,” Bruce says.

“That’s a suicide mission!” Clint cries.

“Which is why we’re all going,” Steve says, in that authoritative old man tone that shuts everyone up. “Banner’s right. It’s going to take all of us just to get a chance.”

“Pretty sure assassinating the Russian president is an act of war,” you say. “Number two in command is just gonna send those nukes up and point them straight at the Pentagon.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment. Then they turn towards Steve.

“Which is why I have a plan,” he says firmly.

You don’t like it one bit. Not one bit. Natasha, undercover for two weeks without comms. Clint posing as a diplomat. The rest of you hunkered underground, waiting for the right moment to invade the Kremlin. It’s almost recklessly risky. And yet, Steve has his full faith in it, which means the rest of you do too.

That night, Natasha holds onto you tightly. She’s terrified to go back there, regardless of what she says. It’s worse than going after one cell, or even the Red Room itself. It’s the man behind the curtain who’s been controlling it all.

“It’s going to go fine,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you further into her.

“It is,” you say. You take her hands and press them into your sternum. You’d only succeeded in being the big spoon a couple times — never when she was stressed. So you stare at the wall. “I mean it.”

“Me too,” her breath fans against the back of your neck. “We’ve done harder things before, haven’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you exhale. “I mean, aliens? AI? Bruce when he’s hungry?”

She laughs, and that eases some of the pressure on your heart. “Worst case, I’ll survive.”

“You always do.”

“I always do,” she smiles. “And best case, I take care of him, you get rid of the cabinet, and Steve slides in his new leader. And we get out of there and go to… I don’t know. The Dominican Republic.”

“The Dominican Republic?”

“Why not?” she kisses your shoulder. “A vacation. Moscow’ll be a pretty intense way to get back into the action. You’ll deserve a break.”

“I’ve been on a break for three months,” you snort.

“Oh come on, you don’t want a piña colada? Palm trees? White sand beaches?”

“Well when you put it like that,” you say, turning around to face her. “I guess we could go to the Dominican Republic.”

She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Promise?”

You could stare into the green of her eyes forever. “Promise.”

Not three weeks later, you sit staring at a computer screen in a bunker a hundred feet below Red Square. Tony sits to your left. There’s no point in watching the feed, since all of the cameras are outside of the Kremlin and Natasha walked in an hour ago, but you can’t help it. You feel powerless.

For ten days, Natasha has been Alina Konstantinovna Petrova, a middle-aged politician who just got back from a stint in Belarus. When she emerged wearing the nanotech mask for the first time, you genuinely didn’t recognize her. Her voice, her gait, her mannerisms — all changed. Sometimes you forget she’s the world’s greatest spy.

But with no comms and no tracker, all you have is your faith in that fact. Just your trust in her.

If she’s on schedule, she should be having tea with the Prime Minister, but really she could be anywhere, doing anything. There’s absolutely no way for you to know.

“You know,” Wanda sighs, tipping back in her office chair and tossing a tennis ball into the air. “I don’t think all of us had to be here.”

“Agreed,” Tony grumbles. “I was supposed to be at a gala right now.”

“Do you think-”

“Quiet!” Steve orders, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “Do you see that? Is that smoke?”

You lean closer. It is smoke, pouring out of a second-floor window, and it makes your stomach drop.

Steve taps into the emergency comms in Clint’s ear. “Is there a fire? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Clint’s voice replies, hushed. “I don’t know, they put us into a ballroom. I don’t know where she is.”

“Shit,” Steve mutters.

“What do we do?” you ask, rising to your feet.

Steve grimaces. “If… if we make contact now, she won’t have a shot. It’ll all be for nothing.”

“The Kremlin isn’t usually on fire,” you snap.

“I’m sure she can handle it,” he glares back. His voice is dangerously quiet when he speaks again. “She knows what’s on the line here.”

But five minutes later, the smoke hasn’t stopped. It’s spread. Clint and the other diplomats are being evacuated.

You keep your eyes glued to the feed, scanning for Alina Petrova’s face among the crowd. She never emerges, but neither do the Prime Minister or cabinet. Maybe there’s a hidden exit.

Just when it seems like the fire is coming under control and the chaos is cooling, the cameras cut out.

You rush for the exit immediately, Tony and Steve right on your heels. Your entire body goes numb as you climb the ladder.

It’s probably fine, you think, hands squeezing the rungs too tight. The fire burned a power line, or the government stopped the footage to protect their image. She’s fine. She’s fine.

You heave the manhole cover out of place with your shoulder, hoisting yourself onto the street and ignoring the pedestrians who stare at you.

It’s absolute pandemonium. There’s a crater where half of the Kremlin used to be, and the other half is engulfed in flames. You sprint towards it.

Steve immediately shouts after you, but all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears.

Maybe there’s a hidden exit. She had to have noticed the fire, she would’ve escaped, she would’ve made it out. She would’ve.

The police that are always stationed around the Kremlin make a border around it, though no one except you is trying to go towards the burning building.

“Ostanavis’!” they yell, but you hurdle their makeshift barricade.

If she was on schedule, she would’ve been on the east side, top floor. The heat doesn’t even register in your mind.

You root through rubble as fast as you can, barely noticing when Wanda and Steve join you in your search. Smoke stings your eyes and fills your lungs until you can barely choke out a breath.

There are heaps of ash that might’ve once been people, might’ve once been Natasha.

You climb trembling supports to get to the second floor: there are bones there, even fragments of medals and jewelry. The farther you get from the crater the less charred the bodies become. But you can only get so close to the live blaze, and none of the bodies are hers. The skin on your hands begins to blister from red-hot ash and metal.

At some point Steve pulls you away, ignores the way you claw at him and scream that you won’t leave her. The three of you (Tony, Bruce, and Rhodey had been wise enough to run away from flaming wreckage) end up in a Russian prison, charged as enemies of the state responsible for the fire and ensuing blast.

By the time the Department of Defense negotiates you out, you’ve convinced yourself that Natasha must’ve escaped. There’s no other option. She couldn’t die. If you didn’t find her, she couldn’t have been there. She must’ve gotten out.

But when you walk into SHIELD’s Moscow base, she isn’t there. It’s only Fury and Clint.

“Where is she?” you ask, rushing towards them. Everyone else seems to slip out of the room.

Fury’s eyes stay trained on you, swimming with something you don’t want to decipher. Your heart pounds against your chest

“Where is she?”

“She’s dead,” Clint says, his voice raw.

“No,” you respond immediately. “No, she isn’t.”

He closes his eyes.

No. You see a flash of her smile, of the jacket she loved. You feel the ghost of her touch on your face.

“I thought she faked it,” Fury says after a moment. “But… we made a deal a few years ago. If one of us faked it again we’d leave something behind so the other would know. A ring.”

You’ve never heard his voice so weak before. Somehow it’s scarier than anything else.

“But there was no ring,” he clears his throat. “Just this.”

He holds out his hand, opens it. The necklace you gave Natasha last year is bunched up on his palm, dark with soot. Your knees almost give out. She never takes it off, not to sleep or train or go undercover. She would never leave it behind.

Reality dawns on you like an awful black wave. Natasha is dead.

“I’m sorry,” Fury says, resting a hand on your shoulder. You can’t feel it. Every breath, every blink is manual now, every movement an act of will.

Worst case, I’ll survive.

You just want to hug her again. Just see her face one more time, knowing it’ll be the last. Suddenly a deep red rage fills your vision, and your muscles twitch to strangle whoever set the fire, whoever planted the bomb.

“There was no body?” you ask hoarsely. You can’t tear your eyes from the necklace.

Fury shakes his head. “Ash.”

A lump forms in your throat that won’t leave for weeks. You feel like you’re looking at everything through frosted glass, frozen in the moments that you just held. It’s like you’ve been caught in a spiderweb.

You don’t cry until you set foot inside her room at the compound. Everything is just how she left it, like she just stepped out. Like she’ll come back any second now.

The covers on her bed are rumpled.

You can’t wrap your kind around the fact that she could be gone, vanished into thin air, reduced to dust. That she’ll never touch anything again. You sit down on the floor and hug your knees.

For a few days you don’t eat; you don’t speak for longer. The gaping hole in your chest churns and twists in an agonizing way. Every night you dream of refusing Steve’s plan, or going up as soon as you saw the smoke, or doing anything except sitting idly while she burned alive.

You’re at Steve’s throat often enough that Tony kicks you both out of the compound. It’s not like either of you are of use, anyways. The others manage to channel their sorrow into work. You don’t.

Clint takes time off, too. Laura manages to convince you it’ll be good.

But with nothing to distract you, you feel the pain of every passing moment. Every minute that you get older and she doesn’t. You don’t want to have to think of a life without her in it.

Weeks or months into your dull gray blur of a life, someone knocks on your door. You hope it’s not Steve. You don’t know if it’s the season, but you could spring for a box of Thin Mints.

It’s not a girl scout. It’s Natasha.

Your eyes go wide; your face pales. Nanotech mask? Clone? “A-Are you real?”

She wheezes out your name, keeps her hands clutched to her side.

“Is it really you?” you ask, your eyes welling with tears and your hands trembling as you reach out to touch her.

“I missed you,” she breathes, her eyes roaming your face.

She has a black eye and a split lip. It’s her. You drink in the green of her eyes and the red of her hair and the softness of her face and you can’t keep the sobs from escaping. She crashes into your arms, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ribs. She smells like sweat and home.

Natasha is crying too, shaking, her face hidden in your chest. You close your eyes and tilt your head down to rest your lips on her head.

“You’re hurt,” you say when you remember how to speak.

She pulls away and kisses you deeply. It feels like God blessing you, even if it tastes like blood. She’s real. You don’t let go of her until she gently pushes you away.

“We should go inside,” she whispers.

You’re in a daze for half an hour, while you wrap her ribs and bandage the gash on her arm. She doesn’t leave your gaze for one second. When you’re finally satisfied that she won’t drop dead, you collapse onto the couch next to her.

She climbs on top of you, pulls you close.

“They were onto me,” she murmurs into your hair. “I had to escape, I couldn’t let them think I was alive.”

Anger roars in your chest. “I’m not losing you again.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill them,” you growl, wrapping your arms around her securely.

“I’ll help,” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “They’re probably coming here.”

“You were followed?”

“I wanted to see you,” she sighs. “I didn’t take all the precautions.”

You laugh and bury your face into the crook of her neck. “You think we can go to the Dominican Republic after?”

“I’ll break up with you if we don’t.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #angst #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #mcu #natasha x reader #fluff

[conkreetmonkey]

Splatoon 3 is wild because imagine if you were living in Japan due to a recent economic and cultural boom, and suddenly a space shuttle with a mutant house-sized T-rex riding it suddenly burst from the center of Mt. Fuji and disappeared into space without explanation, and all you ever find out about what the fuck that was about is that Zuckerburg mysteriously disappeared the same day and was never seen again, but still "officially" ran Meta through an open secret Queen-Elizabeth-being-in-good-health gaslighting campaign, and everybody kind of suspected he may have been connected but never figured out anything conclusive.

Also the T-rex is now orbiting the earth in the fetal position like the guy from Jojo, and there are rumors of a substance that, if touched, turns you into a half-dinosaur monster. Nobody understands any of this but Meta employees just keep going to work and pretending Zuck still exists. The same 12 prerecorded voicelines constantly squak from the PA system.

Oddly, the statue in front of Meta HQ of a T-rex eating a human changes overnight into one of a giant human eating a tiny T-rex. Nobody noticed the switch, despite the statue being in a constantly bustling area. It happened shortly after the shuttle incident.

Jack Black's tiny clone, Lil' Jack, now wears a headset at all times and has been acting really shady since the incident. Also they're both hyperintelligent, immortal velociraptors found in an ancient cryogenic chamber who spend their days judging college football and eating the legally harvested flesh of hillbillies. Lil' Jack is probably plotting to kill Big Jack, but Big Jack doesn't seem to care, growing fat and lazy, sleeping on public benches in a bed of throw pillows. Also, he's very open about the fact that, as a velociraptor, humans look delicious, but he hasn't actually eaten anybody aside from the aforementioned hillbillies because he's civil.

Everyone is just expected to move on with their lives after this. This is normal to you.

The local art school was recently attacked by giant sea serpents, which were actually hideously bioengineered hillbillies, fulfilling a biblical doomsday prophecy, and they were driven back by Meta's army of minimum wage, part time child soldiers armed with warcrimey jury-rigged weaponry. The sea serpents had giant frying pans grafted into their mouths, which launched primitive tactical nukes made by filling garbage bags with their explosive blood. They still exist, and occasionally defend their comrades, but spend most of their time in the deep sea.

The local homeless emo twink everyone's attracted to is a closet millionaire who sells bootleg clothing in exchange for live rats, which he messily devours behind closed doors. He's also 8 feet tall and British and only has one eye.

North Korean refugees now flood the western world, after a greasy 14 year old hipster, under the guidance of Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift, beat Kim Jong Un in a mech battle, and the EDM remix of the Japanese national anthem they performed caused like half the soldiers to immediately realize North Korea sucks ass and defect. One of these individuals, 7 foot tall hypergenius, becomes a newscaster alongside a nepo baby rapper with dwarfism who likes to eat entire jars of mayo, and also they're a popular band. Also also, they may or may not be gay. Almost the entire population is gay, so this isn't a huge deal.

The new local newscasters are a famous Japanese lion tamer, an Indian girl with a bloodline trait allowing her to control snakes, and a Brazillian man the size of a smart car who exclusively communicates via grunts.

Gods, souls and zombies are objectively real, and you're effectively immortal because real-life respawning was invented a while ago. It works like a Keurig, but with mucus instead of coffee. Submersion in water kills you.

A good deal of the population is a hivemind. They pretend to be individuals for no reason.

Almost all men are now femboys.

Despite all this, you still have to go to work at 9 tomorrow.

#splatoon 3 #splatoon #splatoon fandom #splatpost #splatposting #splatoon lore #mr. grizz #new agent 3 #neo agent 3 #return of the mammalians

[radiance1]

Random Danny Phantom au.

The world ended, nukes launching to every corner of the world.

If the nukes didn't kill them, then the aftermath sure did.

An actual, honest to god supervillain wanted the end of the world, and they did it even when they got taken along too.

Vlad, Danny and Dani survived due to their Halfa biology, with Dani leaving for the ghost zone after everything went down.

Danny is overcome by grief, and anger with no place to direct it.

Same goes for Vlad.

And they already didn't like each other, so just one minor thing set them off on each other.

Due to Danny's victory over Pariah Dark, and Vlad helping him with the suit and pushing Pariah back into the coffin, they each became king of the Ghost Zone.

More like half-king since they both share the position but eH.

Danny got the Crown of Fire, which because of his ice core turned into the Crown of Frost.

Meanwhile Vlad got the Ring of Rage, and became much quicker to anger than he was before.

Surprisingly enough, Danny was the one who landed the first hit.

The opposing nature of their cores, fire and ice, wasn't at all helping the planet when they both went all out, especially with the added power boosts.

They fought on the wasteland planet for a few years, then moved to space. To which something of surprise happened, Danny, with his ice core and the Crown of Frost connected to the moon, meanwhile Vlad, with his Ring of Rage, connected to the motherfucking sun.

Why is this important?

Well, because even though humanity was basically wiped out, the faith left behind on things they worshipped was still around.

So Danny and Vlad both got even more boosts of power from the lingering faiths left behind on the sun and moon. Basically becoming gods.

Not that Danny or Vlad cares, for Danny he just wants the earth back to how it was, and his family by extension. For Vlad, even though he has all of this power now, Madeline isn't here anymore, nor is Vladco and everything else he worked for.

So they just, continue fighting.

The Sun vs the Moon.

They held nothing back, using every inch of power in their cores and the power gained from lingering faith of the sun and moon and caused devastation if they were still on earth.

They fought for years and years. Until one day they just, stopped.

Be it because of how much power they used up, or they just felt emotionally exhausted, perhaps both. Danny just stayed on the Moon while Vlad just kinda, drifted, around the sun.

During this time, Clockwork saw this as the best time to yoink them over to the ghost zone, and properly appoint them as Kings of the Infinite Realms.

Of course they had to have the clothes to match, and with them having a connection to the sun and moon certain ghosts had a motif to go off of.

Danny was gifted a white robe that glowed a soft light, with the edges seeming to turn into frosty mist and the area around him is extremely cold.

Vlad was gifted a golden robe that glowed intensely, the entire thing seemed to be made of fire and the area around him extremely hot.

Opposites and stuff I guess.

No other ghost really wanted to fight them and take the Ghost King title, it's honestly far more trouble than it was worth and they didn't want the responsibilities.

So Danny and Vlad had to put aside their differences and rule together properly for each and every ghost in the zone.

Safe to say, neither of them were thrilled to be working with the other. (With Danny not thrilled to be working at all.)

Which is pretty in character with them being polar opposites.

During their off time, much to some ghost's chagrin, they typically leave outside of the zone to their respective domains, the moon and sun. Both of them feel a sense of comfort when near them.

Surprisingly after their battle and working together, Vlad feels calmer around Danny because of his overall aura, whereas Danny feels the never ending chill he experiences lighten up whenever he's near Vlad.

So they're on some sort of truce right now.

Everything is going fine, the zone finally stabilized with the extended presence of both its kings, the Ghost Zone now has some sense of law and order, and everything is just better over all than under Pariah Dark's absence and rule.

Until Danny gets summoned to some far off dimension, still in the appearance of a teenager because he never aged (neither did Vlad) and is absolutely stunned to see living, breathing humans.

It's been far, far too long since he's seen humans.

So there he is, still in his king robes (Which basically become his regular clothing), sitting in a magical summoning circle with cultists all around him preaching to him about he's going to enslave the world and how they off themselves up to be his servants.

Stunned beyond compare seeing people, and then out of the blue more people come out and beat up the cultists, with the last one begging for him to help them and then being knocked out.

A stray thought entered his mind, and he doesn't even care about the other people anymore. So he steps out of the circle, ignoring the others surprise, their battle ready stances, and their attempts at talking with him and just exits the building and flying out of the planet's atmosphere.

He then turned to look at the planet, and he started crying.

It was breath taking to see the earth living again, especially when from the moon all he ever saw was the wasteland that was once his.

Some random dude came up out of the atmosphere with him, with a determined expression on his face before that melted away into surprise and concern. Who then just floated there alongside him.

Meanwhile, over in the DP outer space:

Vlad is not at all amused when he felt the sudden void of the moon. So he went to check it out, seeing the moon deity gone from his place. Usually when they go to the Infinite Realms they are still aware of the others presence.

But now Vlad doesn't feel him at all.

So Vlad goes to find Clockwork, who should surely know if his opposite decided to go back in time.

Clockwork says he doesn't know where Danny is, but he does know he was summoned to another dimension. Vlad questions how Clockwork doesn't know where Danny is since he's the literal Master of Time.

Clockwork says that he oversees all the events and timelines in this dimension, the one where Danny was summoned to however? Noooot so much.

So now Vlad feels he has to look for his counterpart and is increasingly angry that he has to do so, but then Clockwork nudged him along to go and find him.

So now Vlad has to look for the wayward moon deity; while said deity is now talking with a bunch of actual people and is not at all hiding his wonder and amazement at seeing and talking to living people again.

(Clockwork when he knows exactly where, how, and why Danny got summoned, but isn't telling Vlad a single thing other than "You have to go find him." and acting as if he couldn't just pop into the timestream and ask the Linear Men if they've seen an immortal teenage moon deity in any timelines.)

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #Vlad became a sun Deity and has the Ring of Rage #While Danny became a moon deity and got the Crown of Fire turned Frost #Danny is completely and utterly stunned to see a living earth again #Vlad probably will too when he finally finds the DC dimension #The JL when they find out that Danny is only Half king of the Infinite Realms and that there's another one #Who's probably not taking his random disappearance well.

[theaawalker]

I Will [Finnick Odair x Reader]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Song Inspo: Meet Me At Our Spot by The Anxiety Word Count: 2,713 Series: 1 | 2 | ? Summary: it's been years since Finnick was reaped. He came out victorious, as you'd prayed he would, but then disappeared from the public eye. It wasn't long before the Capital revisited District 4 for its next competitor. Fast-forward, you're the winner of the 75th Hunger Games, and can barely sleep. When the Capitol unveils its next phase for the Games, you're thrusted back into survival as old habits return... as do old friends. Warnings: cuts, use of blades, surveillance, depression, female rage, mentions of prostitution, mentions of murder, making out, mentions of sex Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

You've been back for three weeks now. It feels like three years. You are the victor of the 75th Hunger Games. Your life is even worse than it was before your games, which was not meant to be part of the deal. Your entire family was dead. When you refused Snow's offer to make you a prostitute he killed them all. You thought he was bluffing. You thought he was bluffing. You thought he was bluffing. Now, you spend your days perched on your windowsill looking down onto the bottom floor, watching the other victors live. It provides minimal comfort knowing just because your life has taken a giant halt no one else's has. The only time you move from this spot is to go to the bathroom. Your legs are so stiff from minimal movement that you must hang onto the wall to steady yourself. You haven't showered. You've barely eaten, discounting canned foods. You're still in the clothes you wore when you arrived back. The only difference was a massive woolly blanket, providing some warmth in your cold, depressing room.

Someone comes over twice a day. You don't know who it is because you never actually look at them, eyes glued on the window. It's not because you're purposely ignoring them, but because you're lost in your own empty nothingness. And, as hard as you try, you can't fight your way back to reality. Whoever it is delivers your food.

Today was different though.

You hear them come in and remove their shoes. You hear them ramble through the kitchen for omething. After a while, their footsteps come towards you. You feel them put a hand on your slump, left shoulder. This is unusual but the difference is that you feel the urge to see who it is. You want to know who has been taking care of me. You want to know. So you find out.

"Welcome back to Earth, my dear." They say seductively with, face blurred by your unused vision.

"Finnick?" My voice all scratchy from no use.

"Wow," the blonde man said, "way to thank your mentor. But, fawn away, my dear!"

A wipe of the eyes reveals their true identity. A blonde man, indeed, but not yours. You've seen him on television during the 74th Hunger Games, often at the hip of its victors Katniss and Peeta.

"I know you."

"I'd sure hope so." Haymitch chuckles, stepping away to some stuff on your bed, his back to you.

"You... you've been helping me?"

"Of course. I couldn't let a pretty, little trainee like yourself starve, now could I?"

"Train for what?"

Haymitch paused. "You didn't see the news, did you?" You slowly shook your head, clutching your blanket. "Oh, jeez." The older man sighed. He grasped his mouth and stood silently, contemplating his next words. Having found them, he knelt in front of you as if you were a goner. "I'm sorry, kid... you're up next."

[ time skip - an hour later ]

An hour. That's how long Haymitch gave you to have a meltdown. You exploded with the pain, anger, and power of a thousand nukes. You obliterated your room - never careing for it anyways. You would've destroyed the building had physics not failed you. While you finished off your rampage with a primal scream, Haymitch waited outside the door and checked his watch.

Then he knocked. "Uh, kid. Time to go." You flung your door open and glared at him, eyes low and insides dead. "Hope you saved some of that rage for your combat."

The two of you head to the bottom floor. The elevator ride is quiet, and anyone who hops on ogles at you. Your hair sticks to your sweaty face. Your eyes are sunken and baggy. Your adrenaline is falling but you're still shivering. You look like a wild cat in captivity; tired, bitter, and vengeful. But worst of all, trapped.

You get to the ground floor and follow Haymitch to god-knows-where. Passing by training victors and their mentors doesn't faze you. You've played this game before. You won. You weren't confident you'd do it again, you just didn't care.

"Let's test out that fire on a target." Haymitch brought you to an assortment table of knives, spears, swords, and blades. He waved a finger across them. "Take your pick."

You grabbed the mezzaluna knife and peeked at your reflection. Your eyes... you'd be scared of you too.

You used to be so sweet and naive. You cared about others, maybe too much. You were selfless, self-conscious, and spineless. Killing people in an arena will take that from you. In a way, one of those victims was the old you.

'Rest in peace,' you thought.

"O-kaaay." Haymitch side-eyed you. "You ough to warm up before-" Your knife hit the bullseye with a sharp thud. "...Or not."

You threw the knife over, and over, and over until your palm sliced open. By Haymitch's advice, you took a breather and sought bandage. First aid wasn't a priority in the training hall, so you had to wander to find some proper wrappings. You didn't care if looking around made you appear clueness, or crazy, or weak.

A permanent "vacation" didn't sound so bad.

On your search, you saw Katniss Everdeen talking to someone by the rope stand. All you could see was his back and blonde hair. 'Peeta looks taller than on tv.' You thought to yourself.

Katniss looked over his shoulder, straight at you. You nodded, and she nodded back, a semblance of respect established. Her boyfriend watched her stare for a moment before turning around. By then you'd already looked away.

As you think about heading back, something within you begs you to stay. To look again, for whatever reason. Having nothing to lose or gain, you turn your head, which takes a lot of energy, and actually look and see who it is. You nearly faint as it's the person you never expected to see.

Finnick Odair.

He's squinting as if to make sure it's you. Then his eyes widen. At the same time, you both start for each other. The announcement feedback rings out, stopping you and him in your tracks. You step back and idle by, moving eye contact to the cement ground.

"Attention, victors. Let me be the first to welcome you," you didn't care to listen to the rest. All your mind could think about was Finnick. You hadn't seen him in almost 6 years, when he was torn from you and reaped. Just when he'd learned you two shared a soul mark. You pulled your sleeve down to hide it, paranoid a councilperson will see and tie you to Finnick. "but most of all, make your districts proud. Happy training! And may the odds be ever in your favor."

You try not to cry as the speaker ceases. Biting your lip, you peek back at Finnick's spot. His chest rises as he's huffing and staring at you, begging to be reunited. He looks so much older and buffer. His tan only complimented his gorgeousness. You had to have him.

But you couldn't, breaking your gaze. Not without drawing suspicion. So you bury alive your longing, conjure the numb beast born in your Hunger Game, and march over.

"Either of you know where to find wrappings?" You said, indirectly talking to Finnick but looking at Katniss. This was your way of tricking the cameras.

"I wouldn't, no." Katniss replied, scanning your body for the injury.

"I would." The man of your dreams said. Katniss looked at him, but you kept staring at her. "There's a kit cabinet, corner-east of the elevator. Should hold you down till the day's over."

You swallow the frog in your throat. It would be the first time you'd spoken to him since the day you lost him... You'd pictured that very moment countless times. The worst of circumstances had delivered. You couldn't even look into his eyes. Those beautiful, sea-foam eyes. You couldn't feel his eyes on you either. President Snow had control of you both, despite being nowhere nearby. It was no secret that man loved two things: using people as pawns and tearing people apart. You'd die before you let him do that to you and Finnick. Not again.

"And what if..." you cleared your throat, "what if I need another wrapping later on today?"

Finnick got quiet, picking up your breadcrumb. "There's a storage closet on the second floor. End of the hallway on the left. No one goes up there. Shouldn't be any eyes on you."

Eyes being cameras or guards, you understood. "Thanks."

Finnick started to say something else, but you walked away. Had you'd stayed any longer, you surely would've broken character and gotten the two of you killed.

[ time skip - later that night ]

Night fell and you were longing for Finnick's touch. Haymitch had finally fallen asleep, proved by his obnoxious snoring across the hall. You threw off your covers, revealing your blue, silk pajamas, and creaked open the door. Left, no one. Right no one. Empty hall. 'Thank God,' you sighed and tiptoed down it. The elevator button dinged and you jumped. You checked behind you, expecting your mentor or a guard. Empty hall still.

The elevator ride felt slower than usual. You lived on the 8th floor, so the 2nd floor shouldn't have taken that long. Then you remembered, making your face freeze and heart stop. There were cameras in the elevators. You curse yourself but evade looking at it. You should've taken the stairs. You hoped Finnick had.

'Finnick...'

The doors opened on the second floor. You walked out, almost robotically, and turned to the hall's end. 'End of the hallway on the left. Storage closet.' Finnick's words echoed in your head. You repeated it like a mantra as you headed that way. You finally got the storage closet door, no sign of entry. You reached for the handle when a dangerous feeling invaded you. You hadn't seen this man in nearly 6 years. You weren't the same, and perhaps so was he.

What if Finnick was deceiving you? 'No.'

What if guards are waiting behind the door?' No, he'd-'

What if Finnick was working with Snow? 'No, he'd never.'

How could you be sure? 'I'll prove it.'

You threw open the door and dove inside. Had you Finnick not caught you, you would've crashed into him. It was dark and dimly lit by a dying lightbulb. You saw illuminated Finnick's outline - his shape, really - but that was all. Not ideal circumstances, but they'd do.

"Y/N..." He was still holding you by the forearms. "Were you followed?" His voice read as serious, edging on emotionless.

"No." You said, hiding your dismay. For a moment, you regretted not bringing your knife. He had a hold of you, ambushed in a dark, small closet, in the middle of the night, and towered over you like Goliath.

Then a flashlight turned on under you. Once you saw his face, all the fear and paranoia dissolved.

"Good." He said charmingly with a sweet, gentle smile resting on his tan, god-like face. Suddenly he drops his Capitol self and you see another person not Finnick Odair but just Finnick. "I missed you s-"

You hugged him like you've never hugged anyone before. He rocked you side-to-side and you squeezed him tighter. You both chuckle as you break apart and look at each other.

"Gosh, Finn. You look so different." You gawked at his, well, everything.

"So do you, Y/NN." Finnick observed you with a sweet smile of disbelief. "Guess running for your life will do that to you." He joked, making you giggle.

Then it grew quiet as cruel reality set in.

You were both murderers. Both slaves to the Capitol. Both stuck inside a world you hate. Both surrounded by people you don't like. Even if he hadn't said it, his face told you. It had affected him too.

Your hands caress his cheeks as you mutter, "I wish things were different."

"I know what you're going through. I understand. And I felt terrible that I left without telling what," he sighed, "what you meant to me. I couldn't help you during your games because the Capitol wanted me to… take care of other business and Mags helped me a lot when I came home. So I should've looked for you, should've helped you, should've tried, because you deserve it."

You were too exhausted to cry. You contemplated aplogizing for not telling him about the soul mark. It happened so long ago that you couldn't recall if you'd said sorry then. When he was reaped and ripped away from you. So, you changed the subject. "You know why he killed my family, right?"

"Yes. Yes, I know why".

"You're a prostitute?"

"...Yes."

"To protect your family?"

"At first like you I refused then he killed my mother. The only family I had that was blood. Then he threatened to kill Mags. So I did it."

"I thought he was bluffing."

"I did too." Then Finnick's eyes fell to the ground, riddled with shame and uncertainty. "So... you don't mind? That I, uh..." his brows furrowed in angered remembrance, "that I'm... what Snow makes me do?"

You finally muster the courage to kiss him. His lips are salty and oh so plump. They mesh with yours perfectly. He grabs your face and deepens the kiss. You pull away to breath, eyes still closed and smiling. You licks your lips, relishing his citrus taste before being pulled into another kiss. Your heads move as your mouths devour each other. Your hands explore his back, sometimes tugging at his tanktop. He slides his tongue across your teeth, begging for permission. You open your mouth wide and let him slip it inside you. You suck on his long tongue and listen to his moans. As you suck and savor his slippery glossa, the idea of sex claws as you. You didn't want to soil the moment by [redacted]-ing Finnick.

Plus, you didn't have any condoms.

You let go of his tongue, which he rolled back into his smirking mouth. He dove in for another kiss but you caught his chest.

"I don't want to do it right away." You told him. You watched his face of arousal disappear, replaced by calm, and an understanding nod.

"I get it." He tucked your hair behind your ear. "We can stop here if you want."

Tears you resented stung your eyes. You bore into his chest, thoughts distant. "I don't think we can."

"Hey, hey," Finnick lifted your face, "what's wrong?"

"We're both victors, Finnick." You sniffled. "Do you really think they're gonna let two victors win again?"

It was true. Peeta and Katniss had gotten lucky. You and Finnick wouldn't be so, not if the Capitol could help it. The love you had would be destroyed, killed in the 76th Hunger Games. Not just the love between you, but one of you... one of you had to die.

"We'll find a way. Listen, listen to me. We will find a way. There's 59 days till the Games. We'll come up with a way to survive. Hide till it's over, fake our deaths, escape - whatever it takes. O-okay?" He plastered a weak yet hopeful smile. He brought your foreheads together. "I'm not losing you again. We just have to have faith. Okay?"

"We can't-"

"Promise me, Y/N. Please." Finnick begged, speaking and breathing softly. "Promise me you'll have faith in me. In us. Promise you will."

Every fiber of your being ignites. Faith didn't exist in the Hunger Games. Precision. Skill. Wit. Violence. Vigilance. Survival. That's what reigned. That's what would get you through the day. You hated doing it that way, but it had worked in the past. What Finnick was asking you was to basically abandon the protocol. To go against logic and defy the future, pretty much ensuring your demise. Could you trust what he was saying, or were your prior suspicions accurate? Could you use that against him, trick him as well? You just knew this wasn't going to end well, whatever happened. But for now, you'd play pretend.

"I will."

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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#writers #writers on tumblr #writing #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair angst #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair fanfic #the hunger games finnick #finnick x you #finnick x reader #thg finnick #hunger games x finnikc #finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x y/n #thg series #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games x you #the hunger games fic #finnick odair fluff #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #tigris snow #effie trinket #peeta mallark #katniss everdeen #prim everdeen #personal fave

[with-my-murder-flute]

Cristabel and the proverbial sandwich

(Spoilers for Harrow and Nona the Ninth)

I have not known inner peace since I saw someone say, "But come on, does anyone ACTUALLY buy John's story about how the nun died?"

Because honestly, I'd just kind of gone, "Super random, very weird interaction, boy there sure are cult mindworms at play here," and moved on to the next page.

But as soon as I saw that question asked, the amount I did not buy that story hit me like a load of bricks, to the point I'm kind of amazed that I ever did believe it.

Two people. A locked door. A nuclear standoff. A close-range head injury.

On one side, a full-fledged Catholic nun—well done, that’s the classic—who's best friends with a staunchly atheist world-class scientist and believes, if we're to believe John, that Jesus's problem is that he didn't stick to office hours.

On the other, a woman described as, "A total delight. Effervescent. Kind to animals and children. A master of the sword. Did not have the intellect you’d ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange, and was a sickening twerp into the bargain."

Oh, and in the middle, there's also a necromancer who wants to bring back his friends... minus any little details about things he they might have done wrong. He "knows where memory lives in the brain", and they "won't have any of it." And "guys as careful as me don't make mistakes," but then again, all that means is that if he kills someone, he did it on purpose.

C— talks her way into a locked room with John, who's on the phone threatening some world leaders with a nuke, expresses care and concern for him, and then... decides he needs more data on the soul? And kills herself to provide that for him?

I'll be honest, I just don't believe that John was an ordinary guy, totally normal, could be any of us, and he just got put in a really stressful situation and made some bad choices but who HASN'T done things they aren't proud of??? I reject that point of view completely. Like, Elon Musk in any given interaction probably is really stressed out and unhappy and having trouble responding in a way that's at all well-considered or emotionally mature, but that doesn't mean that Musk isn't also, at baseline, a deeply stupid, petty, immature, grandiose, entitled, egocentric person. No matter what situation you put him in, he's going to keep on being those things.

I think that John's initial idea was to put the entire human population of Earth, minus some necessary staff, into some giant cryonic freezers, and give the Earth some amount of time to rest and recover from the effects of human-caused pollution. A plan about which I will confess some hesitation myself; being told "just lie down in this coffin, bro, you'll only be a little dead, I'll totally bring you back to life* in a couple centuries (*98% effective!) " does not fill me with an enthusiasm to hop on board.

And then his project got cut. And he decided, "Well, if they won't agree, I can just make them agree." After all, all that end game needs is 10 billion frozen corpses hanging out in those tin cans, and a small team of staff left to keep the place running. How it gets there is something he can afford to be flexible about. If people won't climb in on their own, he can put them there.

So when C— or the nun tell him to stop focusing on revenge, to bend all his energies to saving the world, I think he thinks: Well, I am. He's gonna wash the earth clean at the end of this! He just needs to be able to set the dominoes in motion. He just needs to engineer a situation that will justify taking his nuke out of the vault and making the pieces fall.

A situation that would be sabotaged, ruined, if anyone made a true deep sincere good-faith effort to talk him out of Plan Nuke and called the legitimacy of this crisis into any sort of question. He needs to prevent that from happening.

Actually. Also. He needs one more thing than that.

He needs an excuse to use the nuke, but also, he's finishing his homework at the very last minute. He still hasn't mastered the soul. He does need a few more test subjects.

Maybe he let her in and thought: Two birds with one stone, eh?

#lis's tlt theories #the locked tomb #the locked tomb spoilers #ntn spoilers #htn spoilers #cristabel oct #john gaius must die

[samuraiko]

CRITICAL ROLE C3E77 Spoilery Opinion [SPOILERS AHOY]

YES I'M POSTING SOMETHING ELSE

SPOILERS INCOMING

LOREM IPSUM

---

I am actually copypastaing something I wrote over on the CR subreddit LATE last night, just in case you're wondering if you might have seen this elsewhere. I just want to throw it out again here just in case the mods over there nuke that entire thread because of DRAMA™.

---

This is pure speculation on my part - I make *NO* claims whatsoever into any special insight on how Taliesin plays his characters, and I fully embrace the possibility that a) I am wrong, and b) no one is obligated whatsoever to agree with me. :)

That said.

Twice before now, Ashton was granted some weird, who-knows-what-the-hell-it-is power through acts that he had NOTHING to do with.

His father screwed up a rite - BOOM, Ashton is transformed into an earth genasi.

The Jiana Hexum robbery went sideways and Milo freaked out and dumped a whatever-the-hells-this-might-be potion (yes *I* know what it is) in Ashton's skull - BOOM, Ashton gets his rage powers.

But this time, there's an incredibly dangerous power that could maybe save the world AND the gods but hopefully most of all his friends... and this IS something that Ashton can control.

This *IS* a choice he can make for himself.

HE chose to dive into the lava after this shard.

HE chose to respect Fearne's repeated denials that she didn't want it.

HE chose to take it into himself.

This was something going sideways that HE COULD CONTROL.

And don't forget - Ashton being a reckless gambler was established all the way back in the very earliest episodes of the campaign.

Do I agree with Fearne kicking him in the face afterward? ABSOLUTELY. He just scared fifty years off her life with that stunt, and as someone who has loudly proclaimed that she is DONE losing people, this must have been her second-worst nightmare (her worst being losing Orym).

So do I understand him doing this? Yes, I do. I think he could have handled it a lot better, but let's hear it for that 6 Charisma.

And I think that he's going to get an absolute EARFUL from all of the Hells (and so he should). And more than anyone else, I hope Orym is the one to really chew him out, because if Ashton seems to respect anyone as authority in the Hells, it's Orym.

#critical role #campaign 3 #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #ashton greymoore #taliesin jaffe

[yuwigqi]

You know how everyone talks about "Since they're been multiple heroes with the same name before, Dick shouldn't've taken Robin, Tim and Damian should've both been Robin?"

Let's ignore. And instead I raise you: when Bruce retires, Dick, Tim and Cass all become The Batman.

Tim simply does not have the combat skill to take on forces like Bane, Ivy, Freeze, and other superpowerful metas night after night by himself. Cass could probably take all three of them, and despite being banged up, fight off an entire mob the same night.

But Cass simply doesn't have the science prowess required. You can't always rely on Oracle being there 100% of the time. Besides, some tech needs to be used by you, in the field. Fingerprint scanners, on the go DNA scanners, as well as some of the hyper complicated hand-held bat tech for escaping bondage. Not to mention the chemistry required to analyze new chemicals yourself (face it, if Bruce is gone, so is Alfred). She obviously won't settle for never getting better, but the branch from "no written or verbal language" to "technopath level hacking and chemistry at the level of scarecrow and Joker" is a long, hard one, and it'll take more than 5 years to bridge it. That's where Tim comes in.

Tim and Cass are both 1. highly intelligent, 2. devoted to saving people, and 3. not arrogant enough to think they have no weaknesses. They realize that they can do more as a team than not only themselves, but than Bruce was ever capable of at all.

Dick doesn't become Gotham's Batman. He doesn't want it, he never wants it again. However. No one in the superhero community with any sense thinks he is anything but more than worthy than Bruce to become a leader of the Justice League. Clark, Diana, and Wally make that clear. Dick becomes Earth's Batman. Nightwing stays as the street level hero of [insert new city as Bludhaven was nuked], but when necessary, he picks up the cowl for The League.

They all saw what Batman did the Bruce. Saving Gotham and the Earth every single day left his body raw and blistered. He was short with anger, immediately overcome with guilt and self-loathing after each temper flare. Not only did he not wish that fate on his children, they didn't particularly want to end up like that either.

Any one of them could do all the jobs Batman requires. But they know better. They learned from Bruce's mistakes. Batman shouldn't be one person's job.

Gotham, and the Galaxy, have not ever been safer.

(Bonus that Dami becomes Dick's Robin, Steph becomes Cass's, and Jason becomes Tim's)

#batfam #batman #Bruce Wayne #Robin #Nightwing #Red Robin #The Drake #Black Bat #Orphan #Batgirl #Cassandra Cain #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown

[stellanix]

something i saw once that has stuck with me ever since was a comment on a post about some scientific discovery made by the mars rover perseverance that said "why are we wasting time looking at rocks when we should be preparing for colonization?

another comment was on a post about the environmental issues surrounding the spacex launch site in southern texas, which said "human expansion to mars delayed to protect some turtles"

and comments like these perplexed me. space is a subject of science, and people interested in space are always talking about the wonders of the unknown, and how many fascinating and beautiful things are out there. so how could people interested in space be so fundamentally uncaring and incurious not only about the places they're supposedly interested in, but about nature in general?

it's not just random people in twitter replies who are like this. elon musk once posted this picture:

thing is, that's not mars, that's the moon during a lunar eclipse (when sunlight tinted red after passing through earth's atmosphere lights up the moon in earth's shadow). you'd think that someone known for wanting to bring people, himself included, to mars would care enough about mars to at least know what it looks like, but apparently not

he also rather infamously says he wants to nuke the ice caps of mars to warm the planet up. the ice caps of mars look like this, by the way (image credit: ESA/DLR/FU Berlin/Aster Cowart):

they are beautiful places, that hold an irreplaceable scientific record of the geologically recent martian climate, and are shaped by unique processes. there's no other place quite like them in our solar system. but elon musk thinks we should nuke them. again, no care, no curiosity

nothing has made me feel jaded and cynical about the entire enterprise of spaceflight quite like learning that the people ultimately in charge of it and funding it don't give a shit about space. it's not just elon musk. space nerds love quoting kennedy's "we choose to go the moon" speech as inspiration, but kennedy is also on record saying "I'm not that interested in space" in a conversation where he was arguing to the nasa administrator that they should prioritize beating the soviets to the moon over space science. no curiosity, only a desire for geopolitical showmanship and maintaining hegemony. it's the same thing when many modern politicians only seem to care about space exploration as a way of keeping a technological lead over china

this leaves the people who do genuinely love and care about space in an awkward position. they basically have two choices: A) become jaded and give up on space exploration, or at least parts of it (abandoning human spaceflight but maintaining interest in robotic science missions, for example) or B) give in. work with military contractors. spout the jingoistic rhetoric that the politicians writing the checks want to hear, even if you don't believe it. go along with the colonialist ideology, the hypercapitalism, and the extractivism. sell your soul for pictures of mars and let your passions be exploited for the ends of powerful people who don't care

the sad reality is that our society only values those things deemed useful or profitable. we hear it all the time. the idea that schools should only teach things useful for jobs, that people who try to make a living in fields like art, the humanities, or philosophy are all getting useless degrees and will inevitably end up stuck working retail, and of course, the idea that space exploration is a waste of time and money

space nerds are often deeply insecure about their greatest passion, because it's true, space exploration offers no immediate practical benefit. but they still love space and want to explore it

so they believe the lies. they repeat the colonialist ideology. they say there's money in mining asteroids, that we can terraform planets and let number go up forever. they let themselves be exploited by companies and governments that see everything in the universe and all the people in it as things to be used, and that will ultimately chew them up and spit them out if it's expedient to do so. and those who reject the ideology and keep their love for the cosmos pure often find themselves with no place in the project of space exploration

i don't know how to fix this, but i do hope that i will live to see the day when our curiosity and interest and love for the wider universe is valued for its own sake, and no longer shackled by colonialism, capitalism, and political ambitions

#space

[yautjathiinkinggrounds]

Hello! I love yout headcanons, everytime you posts something I gladly eat up the information. Like literally, if not a bother or your not busy.

What would a female or male yautja or how would they react to a genz ooman?

I'm sorry if this bothers you and apologies for the wrong grammar, english is not my first language.

Thank you for the wonderful headcanons again, lots of love and take care

This one is very specific.

Yautja x Human Gen Z! reader (gender neutral, platonic)

cw:mentions of rape (just mentioned)

Well I could definitely take the piss here and absolutely insult an entire generation of children and young adults. Even if i'm not part of Gen Z, I can see the way they way they are portrayed online , so I can easily write them off as crybabies or whiney — I won't of course, generations are way more than their stereotype. But at it's core Gen Z is a very conscious generation. So If I were to write anything like this the story would start off with a Yautja that has his reservations about Oomans. He would see them as hardheaded and unreasonable. He sees them as willing participants of a dying planet, electing unqualified leaders to make it die quicker. He's see Oomans as lazy (fat slugish and weak)— especially the newest generation. NOT strong warriors like his Yautja younglings. Sees how Oomans let the sick get sicker. Sees how Oomans rape and hurt their birth givers; their sucklings. The Yautja would be deadset on on withholding his acquaintanceship with Oomans, for ever. Even if he was one of the 5 Yautja team to travel to Earth to oversee the Ooman's studies of their tech, making sure these destructive Oomans were not to get their hands on a fucking Yautja nuke. The Yautja would meet Reader in one of the facilities on Earth. Reader would be a scientist there studying the Yautja biology. Maybe they're part of a branch looking into using Yautja medical tech on Humans to help save lives, cure deceases. The Yautja would be surprised to hear how you and the rest of your team are interested in HELPING the ill. You'd explain your teams goal was to make a serum to help re-build the white blood cells of the body, making humans more resistant to viruses and other types of diseases in the future. The Yautja would be stupefied to see such a big team of Ooman scientists working on a beneficial cause. Reader would request to show him and his team to see how've far the humans have gotten with the experiments. Reader would show them how they've modified on of the schematics of a Yautian motor to fit on a train that would make public transportation quicker and less expensive. How they've used one of the elements on the Yautian healing serums to fertilize the soil and grow organic and highly nutritious foods at a higher pace and would be a key practice into getting crops to grow on barren contaminated soil; feeding more people in the process. How they've used Yautian tracking technology to better identify DNA/RNA left behind my beings; making the investigation process in crimes quicker and more accurate. The Yautja would see how Reader was very passionate in working towards these goals to further help their people. The Yautja would begin to have doubts of his previous stereotypes of Oomans, seeing how even this newer Gen was very sincere about fixing cracks in Ooman society. That's pretty much how I would write it. A Gen Z req has a very wide range to write stories on, so instead of making the Reader an activist, I tried making them something that can be associated with the Yautja's a bit more.

#yautja #yautja x reader #predator x reader #yautja x human #ask #cw

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side B

Propaganda below ⬇️

Johnathan

Catholicism doesn’t really exist in the game but it also kind of does. Basically, Johnathan didn’t know that God existed until one day all the angels started coming down from heaven to have a war with the demons from hell. And then Johnathan made a pledge to go serve god and heaven and kill all humans living on earth because they were like “unfit” or “unclean” or something. So then Johnathan’s friend Walter goes to hang out with satan and then they become enemies :( But he’s basically catholic even if he doesn’t directly call himself that so i’m gonna say yes.

Johnathan literally fuses himself with god to become merkabach. He is unhinged. At the start of the game i thought he was cool because he didn’t want me to kill my best friend like WALTER did. And unlike WALTER, johnathan didn’t fuck up the boss fight with the minotaur. But then johnathan became really really bourgeoise or bougie idk whatever idk how to spell it. And then johnathan was like “FUCK POOR PEOPLE” and i was like no girl nooooo. But johnathan wanted to fuse himself with god and wipe all humans off the face of the earth because heaven thought they were impure. So he was trying to invoke the angels of destruction so badly and i was like johnathan you can’t do that son, and so i had to beat his ass. And then by extension i had to also beat god’s ass. And then i don’t really remember what happens but johnathan was essentially the most catholic guy in existence considering i don’t know anybody else who was chill enough with god to do steven universe fusion with him.

ok so like in smt theres alignments . chaos neutral and law. jonathan is the local lawboy and this means hes like the one who rather follow the rules already established and reject radical changes. but anyways hes also shown to be some sort of follower of god in this world and also of the like. local religion or whatever in mikado (where everyone is from) and hes very devoted to the cause and to keep things peaceful as they are now instead of trying to change shit up like walter (the chaosboy)

if he wants to commit genocide who am i to say no

has one fight with friend and decides to become an angel about it and nuke tokyo off the map

Fuses with literal biblical angels to become another angel that then wants to genocide anyone deemed ungodly/unclean by the biblical higher powers (which includes the entire population of Tokyo. And people who read manga).

Dude he is absolutely insane. He's my poor little meow meow. The party got high and he rolled around on the floor and meowed because he thought he was a cat. He is also so insanely gay. Like stupidly queer coded . that just makes the catholic guilt hit harder tbh

Gay boy who dies in every timeline

Paul

he's like if renfield from dracula was cool youth pastor.

He's also a priest, who essentially becomes a vampire due to an "angel" and tries to convert the entire town. He also runs an Alcoholics Anonymous group. I love him

Listen you've probably gotten this guy idk how many times but JUST IN CASE, I submitted him. He's a priest who fell in love and had a lesbian daughter. He becomes a vampire after his money-laundering fundie simp sent him to the Holy Land. He's so torn up over his lover having dementia and God allowing so much overwhelming death that he decides he's going to try to Cure Death Forever but oh boy is it a slippery slope and the man is surrounded by enablers.

so i binged watch the chosen (it's a drama series but it's the bible) and I needed to balance or else Id be insane so I watched midnight mass. It was good. Fuck this rat -- op

#shin megami tensei #jonathan smt #smt #father paul hill #midnight mass #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I don't know if this was asked before, but could kaijus realistically exist in the Twilight world? Or would Aro have considered them too much of a threat and wiped them out alongside other threats to humanity?

Man, I remember seeing this, but for the life of me I can't find it on the blog either so I may have just let it rot in the inbox. Oh well, we can do this now.

Can Kaiju Realistically Exist

Yes. Absolutely

The thing about the whole backdrop of Kaijus (I'm assuming from Pacific Rim) is that they're extradimensional creatures designed for warfare. They're not the true enemy but also they're not from here. The aliens showed up during the Triassic Age, looked around, went "ah shit, we can't actually survive here" and then waited for millions of years until we'd polluted the planet and made it habitable for them.

Namely, they showed up before human history, and the kaijus only appeared extremely recently in history (2013) with no way of the Volturi having been able to predict their appearance or close the interdimensional portal deep at the bottom of the ocean where they purposefully put it to avoid discovery/closure.

Aro would certainly have considered them a massive threat, especially since we find out their M.O. is actually to wipe out the dominant sapient creatures (humans) in order to colonize the planet and that these creatures are actually just designed weapons. The entire point of Kaijus is to exterminate mankind. That's a big no for the Volturi.

Would Pacific Rim Happen?

I imagine Aro's funneling all the money he can into the R&D efforts to stop these fucking things and would very well be trying to figure out where they're coming from, what are they, and how the hell do we get rid of them?

The Volturi may or may not find out about the rift as humanity does and they may be able to survive getting much closer to it without equipment than humans can.

Pacific Rim ends the Kaiju attacks initially when they nuke the portal, so the Volturi may be able to send someone to the other side before this point and kill everyone over there but given that the environment is likely markedly different (as the whole point is earth had to be polluted to a certain to degree to be remotely livable) I don't know if even vampires could do well over there.

But I imagine there's a lot of looking for "close the fucking portal" gifted vampire on Aro's end or "blow up giant lizards" gifted vampires. Both of which, sadly, Aro does not have in his arsenal (I doubt Jane and Alec would be effective as Kaiju brains != Human/Vampire brains at all)

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #pacific rim #pacific rim meta #pacific rim headcanon #the volturi #aro #meta #headcanon #opinion

[gideonthefirst]

i’m not going to pretend to be certain one way or another about what level of agency muir intends to give gideon in becoming kiriona/in aligning with john, because i think the level of uncertainty we’ve been given is both important and intentional, but i do think it’s specifically interesting how every other character we see be resurrected in some way and renamed by john it’s heavily implied that he also altered their memories and/or personalities; we see the renaming of titania and ulysses when he turns them into literal zombies entirely under his control and we see that the other lyctors, at some point, had different names and that their resurrection involves john altering them, and we see in some ways that kiriona falls right in the middle of those two - renamed like both of them, and still dead like titania and ulysses were and with her body having been altered by john and able to be “turned off” by ianthe at will, but also moving to some extent under her own power and retaining aspects of her personality (or her entire personality, depending on the reading - and i do think there are multiple legitimate, supported readings here)

and i think what’s specifically interesting here is that the set up of the original lyctors forces us to see them as complicit with john even though he does change and alter them - it is impossible to ignore the fact that m—- and a—- and g—- and c—- (and p—- and n—- and the nun and a—-‘s little brother!) stood with john through acquiring the first nuke, through killing hundreds of people, through necromantically piloting a world leader, etc. they’re fully complicit in the nuclear death of earth’s population even though most of them turned on him last minute, which translates over to being complicit in his empire, where we see the exact same pattern of them standing with him until eventually, later, individually deciding to betray him for whatever personal reasons they individually have. they are inarguably complicit, regardless of what alterations john made to them!

in contrast, titania and ulysses, at least prior to the resurrection, had no control, no ability to go against john at all, and so without knowing more about their resurrection and function as lyctors, it becomes almost impossible to say whether or not they had agency, ability to go against him, etc, and so all we know is that john used their bodies after their deaths in a way in which they could not resist against or do anything about

so by placing kiriona in this middle ground between the two, where we don’t know if she’s working with him entirely by gideon’s choice or if john altered her mind in some way, she’s in between total death and true resurrection, her wounds are still there but she isn’t rotting, the question becomes a question not of “is this her choice” but a question of “regardless of if this is her choice, how complicit is she?”

even if kiriona is mentally altered in some way, she’s only in this situation because she learned and embraced the cavalier role to such an extent that she died so that harrow could go lyctor. even if kiriona is mentally altered in some way, gideon was only in canaan house in the first place in order to earn the ability to “go free” and join the cohort. and, in contrast, even if she hasn’t been altered in some way mentally, she literally does not have physical control of her own body. kiriona isn’t a portrait of how people choose to align themselves with empire, but rather she’s the centerpoint of three books’ worth of themes about complicity, imperial corruption, death as something which the empire owns and corrupts, family, and memory. to say definitively that kiriona is only aligned with john because of trauma and her behavior is exactly how gideon always behaves in this situation or to say definitively that gideon would never act like this and so kiriona must have had her memory fucked with or her soul altered in some way i genuinely think is to miss the point - regardless of how much quote unquote agency gideon has in the way kiriona’s behaving and who she’s expressing loyalty to, she both has no power over herself (ianthe can and does shut her off!!! she spent her entire life obsessing over her body as a method of escape and now her body has been physically altered by john!!!) and is complicit, has been absorbed into the imperial seat of power and is being used as a weapon by that seat of power, etc.

additionally, this is a series heavily interested in themes of agency around death and how death is constantly being exploited by john and necromancers. it is important that gideon died on purpose (although obviously under. external pressures lol) and has been brought back in a manner which robs her of control over her own body, and i think being willing to engage with that and with what we’re told about the original lyctors and how john used them is important to a reading of kiriona

#locked tomb series #kiriona gaia #gideon nav #i don't like. think that gideon's too good and pure to be an imperialist or anything but i DO think that. there's a lot of information we've #been given for a reason #and also i think that the idea of her memory or soul or whatever being altered in some way doesn't actually undercut gideon's ability to be #complicit/whatever but rather adds an Important And Interesting Dimension which is worth thinking about #also i have. no idea what the tone of this is but it's not meant to be condescending or dismissing or anything i just #have been rotating her in my head for a While but also am currently not. super capable of functionally stringing words together #anyway it. he renamed her. ianthe can shut her off. gideon wanted to join the cohort. gideon is pretty easily manipulated. gideon always #wanted parents. these things are all true #ntn spoilers #locked tomb trilogy #this isn’t meant to be Engaging In Discourse btw i just am. obsessed with her.

[candiedspit]

GRB 080319B 

For a month, I was a smudge. 

A mute monk in the bathtub, lukewarm water running as dull colors rolled around my head like fractured, aged marbles. Thoughts lost strength before fruition. I called out of work once a week, faked a cough, a car accident, another funeral. When I did make the drive out to the office, I spent most of the time typing a word, deleting the word, and typing the word again. I stopped taking calls. Mary left me beautiful voice messages. I listened to them while I laid on the couch, sprawled out like an active disease, furious tears streaming down my face. I knew it was stupid. A feeling cannot kill you. But then, I was being diminished. I was receding. 

I know you don’t feel well right now. But listen, I have these neighbors who still have their Christmas lights hanging up. It’s April. I sorta hope they leave them up all year round. 

I stayed frozen for a few weeks. 

Vitamin D and herbal teas, coffee and long novels. But then, I can’t explain it. It was Friday afternoon. Just a Friday afternoon. 

It began when I left the office. A slow bloom rose throughout my entire body. 

I noticed how all the buildings stood scraping against the most gorgeous, thin blue of the dying afternoon, rising evening. The wind felt kind. I didn’t go home. I went to the supermarket and held an orange in my hand, feeling the small indents with my thumbs, smelling the bright zest. It was as though everything was real again. That night, I bought a pack of cigarettes. I hadn’t smoked since I was nineteen. But I inhaled and let out a giant laugh at how lightheaded I felt, I walked through the streets like that, laughing and laughing, the laughter like the magician’s scarf being pulled out and out. It was a fantastic feeling. I felt fearless. As though I could scoop the fear and pain and shit out of myself like a pudding. I had capabilities. 

When I got home, I rushed in and had a shot of blueberry vodka and opened the windows and called Mary; she answered within a couple of rings. That gorgeous rodeo clown. I loved her as much as I loved anything. 

I never thought I’d hear your voice again, she said. But this worries me, y’know. How blue was the sky today?

I’m coming to see you, I said. Not tonight. But soon. I’ll stumble on your porch like a speedball. The sky was fantastic. I’m smoking.

Hm, she said. Listen, stay out of trouble. A feeling cannot kill you. I’ll save some tea for you. Come anytime. Come anytime. 

I couldn’t sleep. I played the same image in my mind, again and again. And words fizzed in and out too quickly for me to catch them. A church of nukes. Do you understand what you are signing? Perfume made of whale semen. Dominoes. 

In the morning, I could feel the angels looking over me. I imagined them like teenagers, shooting the shit, smoking and coughing and pointing. I spent the weekend in bars, meeting everyone on earth. A woman with a strong russian accent who told me the world was going down the toilet and we were all there for the ride. A man who asked me for three cigarettes and then told me he had coke if I wanted some. I spread a little on my gums. But it was a fifteen minute headache, it had nothing on the feeling within me, the glow which propelled and drove me around. I fucked the russian woman. 

I called out of work for the week, claimed I’d contracted HIV and needed time to grieve. I felt awful about the lie. It was ridiculous. But anything could happen. And I wasn’t wasting my time at a computer when I could see patterns in the streets. I wore a long, leather coat and wrapped it around my waist. And beneath, a black thong strung across my hips. I felt like a machine, I felt electric as I walked through the advertisement pus of Times Square, a cigarette beneath my teeth. I rode the trains for hours, befriending the other passengers. And for a moment, I forgot my address. It was nine in the morning. It was the middle of the night. I got nervous anytime I saw a police officer; there was a criminal in my heart. What was I doing? 

I went down to the village to visit Mary as promised. I felt breathless, sensitive to light. I was tired. It’d been years since sleep. I felt as though I was dying. A star exploding in reverse. Mary would know what to do. 

I knocked on her door and she answered as quick as she answered the phone. I smelled her vanilla scent. It made me nauseous. But I was so glad to see her; so glad she was there. I dated Mary for eight years. There was nobody on earth who knew me better than she did. 

You don’t look great, she said. Are you eating?

Not really, I told her as i walked into her apartment. I feel like I need a touch up. My engine is black. I’m running out of oil. I think I lost my job. I don’t know what day it is. 

It’s Saturday, she said. Three in the afternoon. It’s May and spring is here. Have a seat. 

I sat on her couch. 

I think I’ve been hexed, I said. A spell has been put on me. A poison. 

You’ve been here before, she said. Remember? That arrest in Ohio? Disturbing the peace? And the outburst in the museum. Banned from the gas station. A wild iris in your eyes. A desire for mountains. The call is coming from inside the house, Adam.

Mary gave me a cherry tart. I ate half of it and began to weep. Mary gave me a sleeping tablet. And when I woke up, I was horrified. 

When I got home, Mary had left me a voicemail. I laid down naked on the floor and listened. 

You’re a wife with cold feet. Shivering in the dressing room. You’re an astronaut grazing the face of the moon, blind to the wars on earth. You’re brave. You’re pathetic. You go to the amusement park to weep. You walk out onto the avenue to dance. You sneak into a club. And you feel nothing when the band plays, the gilded brass and vulgar scatting. 

And maybe you deserve it. 

#my poetry #Fiction

[holyshonks]

Why I love Rojka 'Kasaan (and you should, too)

If Master Chief blew up a Covenant homeworld, you might look at him differently. You might consider civilian casualties and the cruel calculus of war and wince. His story helpfully side-steps this issue by making it so that it simply never happens. Humanity never found Covenant homeworlds during the war soon enough to target them. Until Glyke.

If we expect cooperation and remorse from ex-Covenant who destroyed human worlds, what do we expect from a Sangheili fleetmaster whose own world was destroyed by Spartans? That's Rojka's story.

Rojka was once a fleetmaster, but was demoted after the Changing of the Guard, sent to a shipyard to repair ships rather than command them. As a result, he was not present for the attack on Reach or the assault on Earth.

When Reach fell, Spartan-II Gray Team was granted permission to target and destroy Covenant homeworlds in what was clearly an act of retaliation. They were cleared to destroy the Sangheili colony Glyke before comms were lost with ONI. Unbeknownst to them, the human-Sangheili ceasefire was initiated just before they decided on destroying the planet, effectively betraying the fresh alliance between humans and Sangheili. Rojka, a Glyke native, lost most of his family.

During the Great Schism, Rojka sided with Thel 'Vadam and the Covenant separatists, taking control of the fleet that he'd been tasked with repairing. Rojka was realistic. Like so many, he faced a crisis of character when he lost his religion. He worried for his species' future and longed for direction. He understood that the Sangheili needed to be allies with the humans to survive. To this end, he learned to tolerate them. But not the Spartans that ruined his life.

Rojka isn't anyone special. He's no Thel 'Vadam, with wealth, influence, and his family behind him. He's no Usze 'Taham, with old-world faith and an impressive pedigree. He could probably be most closely compared to Olabisi Varo'dai, except that she lost her home at the hands of a Covenant accident and not a UNSC attack.

Rojka is a refugee. Anyone in his life who didn't happen to be off-world when the nukes detonated was dead. The fleet he used to have was down to a skeleton crew. But Thel 'Vadam still asked him to lead the refugees to a new world that they called Rakoi. They started to rebuild, with Rojka becoming the kaidon of Rak, the Sangheili capital (nerd sidebar for those who care: I believe he was more accurately the high kaidon). He grows to love his new home, with one complicating factor: unbeknownst to them, Rakoi was originally called Carrow, a human colony that evacuated during the war. When the dust settled, the humans returned to find their new neighbors.

There's irony somewhere in Thel asking Rojka to do something he would never ask of a human: to set aside his anger at losing his homeworld and work peacefully with the people who took it from him. It's something that Thel hopes for, but when humans continue to hate him, he doesn't blame them. But he expects more from Rojka, and Rojka, who is concerned about maintaining support from Sanghelios, is caught in the politics. He agrees to maintain peace with the humans, which leads to a civil conflict led by his own cousin, who disagrees with making peace.

As part of this agreement, he is introduced to the UNSC Diplomatic Corp envoy Melody Azikiwe. At first, he resents her presence, thinking of her as a meddler and someone whose skills were ultimately useless. He considers humans to be a necessary evil rather than allies. He does not believe diplomacy is truly possible, and thinks Melody weak for talking instead of fighting. But when a two-front war breaks out on Carrow and Melody awakens Gray Team to assist, his resolve is shaken. Over and over again, he's reminded of how much both humans and Sangheili have suffered.

Eventually the civil conflict escalates to a point where the entire planet is in danger, and he has no choice but to accept help from the Spartans. The decision to destroy Glyke without clear orders was a contentious one for the team, which broke them once they realized what they'd done. In their own way, they try to make amends with Rojka.

In the end, it's not ships or soldiers who overcome the conflict, but people. Regular people, talking their way out and through problems. Rojka begins to realize the importance of jobs like Melody's and that there are better ways to solve problems than separating heads from necks (although he does do that, too). Having decided to set aside his anger with Gray Team, he returns home to Rak to rebuild. When he gets there, he learns that another kaidon has risen to power in his absence, usurping his title. In what is, in my opinion, his greatest moment of growth, Rojka accepts the new power structure without argument.

I can't overstate how unusual this is. Few things are more important than power and pride in Sangheili culture. Many Sangheili prefer to die than admit to being injured. They prefer to be killed rather than captured. The most honorable way to replace a kaidon is a battle to the death. But Rojka is tired. He wants to go home. He agrees to be an envoy for Rak, having grown to appreciate the power of diplomacy.

Growth!!!!!! That's growth!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#its real rojka 'kasaan propaganda hours #give me a world-weary sangheili and i'll be writing paragraphs #it took me a while to decide how to structure this but when i searched my heart of hearts i knew one thing to be true: #i love him your honor #also adding entire pages of envoy for propaganda purposes. read it. #you want to read it #you want to embrace the possibilities of the joint occupation zone #rojka 'kassan #sangheili

[bracketsoffear]

Vast: Joy Wang/Jobu Tupaki (Everything Everywhere All At Once) "Jobu is able to comprehend the entire scale of humanity in every corner of the multiverse, and it's all… Meaningless. You see when you put literally everything on a bagel when you're bored one day - every report card, every breed of dog, every ad on Craigslist, every grain of salt or seed - it collapses in on itself and you realize… We are all so small and insignificant that nothing we do matters. And when nothing matters, all of the pain and guilt you feel at your life going nowhere just goes away. It's sucked into a bagel.

A cult is formed around this bagel - all the other people that Jobu has shown the truth to - but what she really wants is her mother to understand how empty she really feels."

Extinction: John Gaius (The Locked Tomb) "Originally part of a team of scientists tasked with saving humanity from climate change, John was gifted strange necromantic powers by earth itself. He proceeded to use these powers to essentially start a cult. He attempts to convince various nations and companies to follow his plans for how to save the planet, but nothing works and eventually the whole thing has gone to such shit that John NUKES THE EARTH AND EVERY HUMAN STILL ON IT. He can feel them all die and uses their power to fuel himself, spending the next ten thousand years chasing after the trillionaires who escaped the planet, blaming them for the destruction of humanity. He is so afraid of Extinction that he literally causes the mass Extinction of every living thing on earth. Oh also he takes the dead, resurrected soul of planet earth and traps it in a barbie doll, and what is more Extinction than the soul of our planet trapped in plastic?"

#the magnus archives #poll #winners' bracket #the vast #the extinction #everything everywhere all at once #eeaao #the locked tomb #tlt