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moralesmilesanhour · 3 months

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if you believe in me - 04.2

summary: a very brief intermission. between aaron and his father, miles wonders who he takes after more. wc: 1.5k a/n: this chapter is me trying to get back into the swing of things before the next major plot point (!!!) so this might feel a little slower and more introspective. thanks for reading! (reblog with ur favorite comic or manga if u want idk) taglist: @shuna-boin @aloraangelix @vhstown @sillykirb @proudgojofucker @weirdducky17 @milesandcorysupermacy prev. next

BOOM!

Miles hits the ground shoulder-first with a dull thud, the storage building bursting into flames behind him.

I’m gonna feel that one later, he thinks as he rolls to his feet and back into a sprint. But Oscorp’s gonna feel it, too.

With a leap and a shot of his grappling hook, it’s not long before he’s back on the sidewalk, with Aaron waiting around the corner. The older man has completely retired the Prowler suit now.

“Not bad for your first solo run,” he nods. “Could still be a lil’ quicker, but you’ll pick it up.”

Miles twists the joints of his metal claws. The steel is still shiny and new, save for a bit of soot from the explosion. The purple glow disappears as they power down with a quiet whir and detach to reveal the human flesh underneath. They work like a charm so far.

It’s been two weeks, but he hasn’t gotten to use them - Aaron has yet to send him on a mission where he’d have to. He wants to ask his uncle about it, ask why he let him do all that welding and tinkering if the claws were just for show. But Miles knows that if he does, the man’s brows would furrow and he’d get a stern speech about not getting too eager about that sort of thing. And he’d be right.

So, like every other night, Miles says nothing but “thanks”.

“And what’s this one about?”

You pointed at a comic sitting on the far side of Miles’ bed. On the cover stood a man wearing what looked like some imagined version of an “African” headdress. He was shirtless and dressed in nothing but shorts and brightly-colored boots, like the costume of a wrestler. The upper half of his face was obscured by a mask with white eyes tied around his head. The flat colors and dark lines make it look old, likely from the 80s or early 90s. Above the man on the cover was the title in bold graphic font: Anansi.

“You don’t know ‘Anansi’?” Miles asked with wide eyes before shaking his head. “Nah, we gotta fix that.”

He threw what he was reading aside, hovering his hand over the pile of comics until he located the very first issue.

“So Anansi is like, this spider that gets turned into a human who has the abilities of a spider. Y’know, climbing up walls and shit.”

“Does he shoot webs out of his ass?”

“That’s not how that works, and no. Anyway, he’s got spider powers and he beats the bad guys by being a trickster instead of just brute force.”

You took the comic from him and began leafing through the worn pages, frankly more interested in the art than the plot. The sharp lines and crosshatching remind you of Miles’ sketches. You turned to Miles and held it up once you were finished looking at it.

“Can I borrow it?”

There’s a shadow of uncertainty that crosses his face for a moment as you await his answer.

“Mmm…I dunno. I’ve had that thing since I was ten. You gonna be careful with it?”

You place a hand over your heart.

“Promise.”

He snorts, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’ll let you have it for a week, sound good?”

“Good.”

Miles remembers that he’s supposed to ask for his comic back on the way home, the two metal claws tucked safely into his backpack.

He sneaks a glance at his uncle, and tries to copy his stride when he walks. It looks easy, but there’s a rhythm to it. Miles keeps his gaze low, but his steps lively. The key is not to show the sweat, as they say. All of one’s effort goes into making it look like there’s no effort at all.

Aaron looks over at his nephew, and chuckles.

“Remind me of your old man when you walk like that,” he says.

Miles grins good-naturedly. Guess the sweat shows. But it’s fine, for now.

“What’s that mean?”

“When we was young, we used to watch the older kids walk out the corner store and try to copy ‘em. The way your pops did it…”

The man’s shoulders shook with laughter at the memory.

“He kinda looked like, like he was marching almost. Just stomping down that sidewalk!”

Aaron began to demonstrate, making his steps quicker and heavier.

“I look like that?”

Miles wrinkled his nose and began to tone down his swaying.

“Exactly like that. Shit’s kinda amazing, really. Genetics.”

“I don’t think that’s how genetics work.”

“Oh yeah?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Then how come I got you stealing like my pops and me, and in my colors?”

Miles laughed, “But this is good stealing!”

“You got a point there.”

Aaron lifted his gaze upward towards the skyline. The moon was out in full tonight.

“Did y’all make good money, at least?”

“Sure did. Sometimes it was the only money that came in, that’s why we ain’t stop.”

There’s a beat of silence. Miles pats his left pocket to make sure the wad of cash is still there, and wonders if his uncle had to do the same thing, or if he kept it in a fanny pack or briefcase.

“So what made you finally give it up?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. Jeff did it for your mom. Hard to keep secrets with a baby on the way.”

Miles tried to picture a younger version of his father – less facial hair, no eye bags, better eyesight, probably – looking a pregnant Rio in the eye as she broke the news. He looks into her gentle face and…yes, there. Right there is when he decides it’s over.

Even without the whole parenting thing, it probably killed him inside to have to lie to her every night about where he’s been. Miles gets it.

“What about you?”

Aaron shrugged.

“Couldn’t leave my nephew hanging.”

He had knocked on Miles’ door after a few weeks of radio silence and found the kid lying in bed, surrounded by dirty clothes and snack wrappers. The room smelt of stale sweat, the clothes piled up on the floor impossible to get through, so Aaron elected to stand just outside.

Miles looked up, and suddenly the man understood what had Rio so frantic on the phone.

The boy’s gaze was…vacant. Like he was looking through him, at something far off in the distance. There were no words comforting enough to turn the lights back on behind those eyes. So Aaron had done the next best thing:

“Go wash up, we goin’ out.”

Miles doesn’t remember it that way. He hardly remembers anything from that period of time between the funeral and his uncle barging into his room. Just a long stretch of gray, and then the door cracks open, then he’s in the shower realizing how long his hair’s gotten, and soon he’s dodging the punching bag in Aaron’s apartment, carrying crates back and forth and maybe blowing some up on occasion.

He knows in his head that he’s doing this to hurt the pockets of invisible men hiding in their glass skyscrapers and high-rise offices, and he’s as angry at them for sucking the life out of his neighborhood as he’s always been.

But it had started with the door, cracked open just enough for his uncle’s face to poke through. Otherwise, Miles might’ve been content to lie there and become one with his mattress as he missed another week of school.

He wonders if his father went on those runs because he, too, looked into his future and hadn’t the slightest idea as to what he was looking at.

Miles’ thoughts are interrupted when his phone buzzes in his pocket. You have his Anansi issue.

“So this is all you do in your free time, then? Comics and robots?”

Miles has his nose in another shounen manga.

“Is that a bad thing?”

You remember the helmet, and the parts set in neat little rows. And the tarp in Uncle Aaron’s car.

“Not for the most part. More interesting than what I do.”

Miles finally looks up, and squints. “What do you do in your free time?”

“I braid hair,” you reply with a bit of pride. “Pretty good at it, too.”

“Mm-hm, that’s what they all say before they fuck yo’ shit up,” he jokes, earning an issue of Jujutsu Kaisen to the face.

“Ow!”

“Shut up, with them fuzzy ass braids.”

Miles gasped dramatically. “You said they looked nice!”

“Looked. Past-tense.”

“Chill on me, my mom didn’t have time to re-do ‘em this week.”

Seeing an opportunity, your eyes lit up.

“Ooh, let me–”

“No.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at you.

“Aw, come on! You have so much hair, it could be fun! And you said you’d let me.”

You reached out to touch one of Miles’ overgrown braids but ended up swiping the air as he dodged your hand.

“I said ‘maybe’, and now the answer is no. You’re gonna ‘have fun’ in my hair? Like you ‘had fun’ with my t-shirt? I know you stole it, by the way.”

“I up-cycled it.”

“Cutting a shirt in half is not up-cycling, and you’re not touching my head.”

“You're so mean.”

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales fic #moralesanhour

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fandom-imagines-stories · 6 months

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Even Serial Killers Sleep

Mickey Altieri x Reader

Words: 805

Summary: Being the only solace for a man with murderous tendencies isn’t alway easy, but for you, it’s worth it.

Notes: Nothing to see here. *cough* Just move along. (Look, I’ve accepted my obsession with him at this point. Let me write my little psycho fluff pieces.)

More 80s/90s movie imagines: HERE

Okay, maybe you should have been asleep.

No, you definitely should have been asleep. It was almost four in the morning and you had class in just a few hours.

You had tried, of course. But no matter how long you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, the streetlights outside casting shadows off your blinds like the cucoloris of old noir films, you just couldn’t get your brain to shut the fuck up and turn off.

When you heard the quiet click of your apartment door open and close, any drowsiness that might have crept into your wired mind dissipated with a shot of adrenaline.

You lived alone.

Your hand reached for the kitchen knife your boyfriend told you to keep by your bed, knocking your alarm clock off the nightstand in the process. The plastic device clattered to the floor, a chunk of the corner cracking off and spitting across the room.

“Shit,” you winced.

Footsteps creaked just outside your door. Your heart pounded in your chest. The doorknob turned slowly. You held the knife out in front of you with a trembling hand, ready to cut down whatever psycho was on the other side.

The door swung open, revealing black boots, dark-wash jeans, and a t-shirt covered in blood.

You let the knife fall to your side with a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

Mickey’s shoulders fell. “Just you? I just killed two co-eds and all you have to say is it’s just you? What the fuck, babe?”

“Sorry,” you giggled, standing on your toes to kiss him on the cheek, “I just thought you were, well, a serial killer.”

“Honey,” his Cheshire cat grin made your stomach flutter, “I am a serial killer.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Well, are you here to kill me or go to sleep?”

He frowned, kissed your forehead, and slipped past you into the bedroom. He took off his boots and looked ready to climb under the covers.

“Ah ah,” you exclaimed with a scolding glare. You pointed to his bloodstained t-shirt. “Not on the bed, please, baby.”

Mickey grabbed onto the back collar and pulled it over his head. He tossed it into the trash to be burned later. He stripped to his boxers and fell back onto the bed.

“Happy?” He snarked.

“Thank you.” You smiled and jumped in beside him.

Mickey pulled you up against his bare chest, arms locking around you like he didn’t want to let go. You pressed your lips to his collarbone.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugged. “Eh. It was kinda boring. Too easy. When the one went to get beer, she even said ‘I’ll be right back.’ I mean, that’s breaking the biggest rule of all horror movies.”

“I’m sure that’s what she was thinking when you stabbed her.”

He craned his neck to look at you. “Are you making fun of me?”

“...” You walked your fingers up his sternum. “No.”

Hands gripped your hips and in one swift motion, you were on your pack with a pair of dark, menacing eyes hovering over yours while his body pinned you down.

You probably should have been scared, with images of his hand, which now gripped your wrist, taking a blade and killing your classmates. But you just weren’t. Craziness and all, he was your Mickey. And he knew that better than anyone.

His lips crashed into yours, fueled by frustration at first, but then morphing into something sweeter. Soft. He wasn’t that way with anyone but you. When he pulled away, you tried to hold back a yawn. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

“Maybe we should-” Yawn. “Get some sleep,” you said.

Mickey curled up beside you with his head on your stomach, tracing lines over the fabric of your nightshirt- which was one of his stolen t-shirts.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” He asked.

You ruffled his brown hair and smirked. “Because if you were going to kill me, you would have by now.”

He pouted his lips, crawling his way back to yours. He nipped at your neck and spoke with that slight whine you couldn't help but smile at.

“Maybe I’m building up to it.”

You tugged on his hair slightly, making him bite a little bit harder.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mickey looked up at you, his usual goofy grin returning. “When you least expect it.” He jabbed his fingers into your sides, making you squeak.

“Mickey!” You squealed.

He switched off the light with his best mock-evil laugh. You rolled on top of him, legs on either side of his hips.

“Who’s the helpless victim now?” You challenged.

He sat up, flipping you onto your back once again with impressive speed. “Try again?”

“Please don’t kill me, mister Ghostface,” you teased.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked.

So much for getting some sleep.

#mickey altieri #timothy olyphant #mickey altieri x reader #scream #scream imagines #ghostface

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zahri-melitor · 7 days

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Just reminding everyone that comics have a constantly moving event horizon for the point where stories feel seriously dated and inaccessible for younger, newer readers (those in their teens and early 20s).

And it’s frequently a date around when they were born.

When I was young we used COIE as the divider, as it was a very strong line in the sand. That held for longer than expected (all the way up to around Flashpoint) given how it functioned as a natural boundary. But Flashpoint was now more than a dozen years ago.

The ‘dated and inaccessible’ line has swallowed all of the 90s and is currently quietly biting off large chunks of the 2000s. I’d say a solid estimate of where it’s hovering is now around 2006 or so.

Now that doesn’t mean people don’t read comics before the invisible moving dated line. But they’re more likely to bounce off them, find them hard to read due to the background circumstances, and dislike or miss a lot of context.

Now stories do emerge from the other side of this line - where they’re appreciated and can be read as classic period pieces. 70s comics get this and it’s clear some 80s comics are also entering that realm too now.

But I think a lot of my mutuals aren’t ready for fans to start finding mid to late 00s stuff ‘dated and weird’ and let me tell you; it’s coming.

2006 was 18 years ago, and a BUNCH of big social and cultural changes happened in the mid 2000s, or at least were going mainstream around then.

Also to horrify you all but the Dated Line is 100% going to cling to Flashpoint for a while, given the reset.

#it’s already past 2001 #and I can say that with confidence #as there is a whole cohort of readers who do not remember 9/11 #and only remember the reactions to the reactions to 9/11 #and a lot of immediately post-2001 stuff is as dated as 1990 USSR stuff

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probablyasocialecologist · 8 months

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According to Duncan Crabtree-Ireland, the national executive director of the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA) labor union, actors made a median salary of $46,960 in 2021. Michelle Manos, cofounder and executive director of the Community Solidarity Project, told Los Angeles’s KTLA that 80% of the union’s card-carrying members make less than $26,000 per year — which is beneath the threshold they need to meet to qualify for the union’s health care plan. To put that in even clearer perspective, in California, where many actors and screenwriters live and work, the annual poverty line is about $36,900 for a family of four. Meanwhile, Hollywood executives, like Disney CEO Bob Iger, make millions. Iger has reportedly received a compensation package of $27 million a year, and has gone on record saying the striking workers are “not realistic” for wanting their demands met. This situation impacts actors at all stages of their career. In July, Mara Wilson, who shot to fame in the 1990s as a child star in Mrs. Doubtfire and Matilda, shared that she has “never once made enough to qualify for SAG-AFTRA health care.” Euphoria star Sydney Sweeney got dragged last year after she said in an interview that she wouldn’t be able to afford her life in LA if she didn’t take brand deals. But Sweeney's comments have since helped illustrate the state of the industry for even a booked and busy working actor. A 2019 study from Nature Communications journal pointed out that “unemployment rates [for] actors hover around 90%, and that as low as 2% of actors are able to make a living out of acting.” Sweeney told the Hollywood Reporter, “They don’t pay actors like they used to, and with streamers, you no longer get [substantial] residuals.” That latter point is a major factor behind the current WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, both with memberships that are fighting for their rightful slice of the pie.

#sag aftra #sag strike #aftra strike #hollywood

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bratshaws · 1 year

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through the hourglass 96. brb x oc

a/n: aaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa anyway. good chapter.much fluff.

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff, rooster being the protective husband.

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64/65/66/67/68/69/70/71/72/73/74/75/76/77/78/79/80/81/82/83/84/85/86/87/88

/89/90/91/92/93/94/95

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @dhwanishah09 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva

She’s still holding his hand when they get into the party, a mix of fear and excitement pumping in her veins as she looks around. Part of her feels so out of place, the fight or flight response begging her to run away but she held her ground. Her husband’s tall frame towered over pretty much every single one of her former classmates, and added that to his colorful shirt, it made the two of them stick out like a sore thumb.

Hannah, bless her, was hovering around and gently telling Beatrice where the things were and so the brunette knew how to navigate this sea of people. The redhead had to leave for a few minutes to go to the bathroom,leaving Beatrice and Rooster alone.

Beatrice also noticed that people were keeping a certain distance from them. She blinked before looking up at her husband and seeing that his eyebrows were low and his jaw clenched tight, “Roos.” she whispers softly, gently touching his chest, ‘Roos,honey, you look like you want to murder people.”

“I just might.” he grumbles, “You said most of these people bullied you right?”

Beatrice licked her lips, fearfully looking back to the people around them and immediately being hit by flashbacks of…things that happened. She saw Aaron and Joe, two of the nerds that just wanted to be part of the popular kids and managed to print those posters about her in high school.

And then her former friends.

And Hannah’s former friends.

And the football team.

Sometimes Beatrice wondered how she managed to survive to her thirties after everything. She clenches her eyes and shakes her head quietly, shaking those thoughts away, “Yes, but…well,don’t get angry like that Roos.”

“You are my wife.”

“I know,” her gaze softens, “I know,Roos. And I love that you want to protect me…it’s just…you are kind of intimidating.”

“Am I?” she nods, “Good.”

She should’ve expected that answer. Beatrice lets out a soft laugh, looking around for a bit, “Maybe we should drink something, mingle.” he grunted, clearly not desiring to mingle but accepting the drink. He let Beatrice guide him through the crowd to where the cooler was with bottles of beer sticking out of the ice.

Beatrice looks up to see that there’s a couple of guys standing close to the drinks and she tries not to freeze because they are standing right in front of the cooler. They were clearly in deep conversation and only moved when the huge shadow of Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw prevented the sunlight from hitting their skins.

Rooster just rolled his tongue inside his mouth, the two guys looking from him to Beatrice, “Oh,shit.” One of them said, “Bea,hi. We um,we were just talking, sorry about that guys. You two can enjoy the cooler.”

“Thanks.” Beatrice’s response was quiet because her brain connected the dots on their faces. Brian and…Jerry? Jeremy? Something with a J that she couldn’t really identify. There were parts of her mind that were blank, this was even more than the first time at the reunion, more parts of her memory were confused and trying to find ways to fill the void.

Rooster’s hand was a constant presence on her waist, his body partially hiding her from view as he looked around. Being so tall gave him the advantage to check if there was anyone looking weirdly at them, “Do you want some beer or soda,Roos?”

“Beer is fine.I can drink one.”

“Okay.”

He looks down when she bends a little just to grab the amber bottle, shaking a bit to get rid of the water drops clinging to its surface - even wiping some off with her jacket’s sleeve - before handing it over to him. Rooster’s eyebrows relaxed when he felt her knuckles touching his own, the cold of the bottle hovering on his skin, when he looked down he just couldn’t help the smile on his face, “Thank you,gorgeous.” he whispers, kissing her forehead.

Beatrice was so happy Rooster wasn’t shy when it came to showing affection, smiling to herself when he pulled back and popped the bottle open with the inside of his arm. His bicep was just that powerful and Beatrice couldn’t help but stare. “Oh…I didn’t know you could do that.” he arches his brow at her after wiping some of the droplets away, “With…with your arm.”

“Really?” and there it is, the boyish smirk that made her weak, “I never showed you?” she shakes her head negatively, “Old college trick, gorgeous. You don’t always have a bottle opener handy.”

“Yeah…” she didn’t want to ogle her husband while surrounded by her former classmates, but she did follow the vein that went down his bicep, “Y-Yeah,I get that.”

“You oglin’ me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” he smirks, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a long swig, “Are you going to drink anything?”

Beatrice looks back at the cooler then at the arrangement of drinks - orange juice, non-alcoholic sangria and even some lemonade - “Not yet.” she murmurs, holding his hand, “I’m not that thirsty.”

Maybe she just wanted to remain sober for a while longer while surrounded by those people. Beatrice chews her lower lip gently, still glued to Rooster’s side like his shadow and her husband didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, he preferred it.

He noticed a lot of her former classmates looking over, some even in fear - he tried to hold back the pleased grin when he thought about it - when they noticed the two. “We should mingle,Roos.” she repeats, quietly, “Maybe I can…I don’t know,talk to my old teachers.”

Her husband’s eyes flick downwards, then back up, searching for the people she suggested, “Okay, who was your favorite?”

“...Mrs.Zhao.” she muttered, looking around just like he did, “She was my history teacher, but I’m not seeing her here.”

“Anyone else?”

“Ummm…” she shrugs with a soft laugh, “Mr.Thorpe who was my arts teacher and maybe Mrs.Gauille…but I don’t see them either.” oh joy, her luck is never ending. Beatrice felt safe because she was with Rooster, but if there was one thing she desired was seeing at least one of her favorite teachers there. She’d never really dislike the staff from the school, but she didn’t…remember much of what they did.

She looked around for a while longer, finally stopping when she sees Lydia and Thomas…and her eyes widen when she notices who Lydia is talking to. Her former bullies…but that didn’t mean anything,right? It was just…maybe she hadn’t seen them in a while and was just trying to-

“Beatrice?”

Both Beatrice and Rooster slowly turned around to face whoever was that spoke to the brunette. She shouldn’t be surprised when she noticed it was Rooney and her husband, a guy who looked like he should make Silicon Valley his own personal resort, with the open beige suit and overly tight pants, not even looking up from his phone when Rooney was there. “Oh…hi Rooney.” she mumbled, giving her a small smile, still remembering the last time they talked wasn’t…the greatest.

“Hi,um,” the other woman looked up at Rooster, to his very unimpressed face, “Is this your boyfriend?”

“Husband.” he corrects her, holding his ring finger up and making sure she saw it, “Actually.”

“Oh, you got married?”

“I did, yeah, last year.” Beatrice murmured, already seeing in the other woman’s eyes the confusion as to why she wasn’t invited to the wedding. She couldn’t see the other two close by, but they were there. She knew they were.

“Oh, and um, you are a pilot,right?” That made her husband look from his phone, finally, and almost jump back when she noticed the wall of solid muscle in front of him, gulping quietly.

“Yep, that’s me.” Rooster’s hand on her waist only tightened its hold, bringing her closer to his side so she’d feel comfortable. From what he remembered Beatrice telling him, she was the one who asked about anyone who’d be up for an open relationship of some sort, one of the guys only for Bea to shut her down quickly saying that no one would be interested.

It shouldn’t be so funny and yet it was.

“Oh, how cool, my husband is an entrepreneur.” Both him and Bea expected her to add something else to the title but…that was it. Beatrice smiles awkwardly looking over at the man who just kept pulling out his phone and appearing busy…but Rooster’s height gave him the advantage to see that he was just messing with his title screen and not really talking to anyone else.

Yikes.

“That’s nice.” Bea says quietly, “And…he’s really busy I take it.” Rooster clears his throat quietly while drinking the beer, looking towards the opposite side of the area where the barbecue was going on because he was trying so hard not to spill the beans yet.

“Oh yes, he’s very busy- oh, you know what we should do?” Rooney’s hand on Beatrice’s arm made the other woman flinch and Rooster’s head immediately snapped towards the touch, “We should all hang out sometime! Like in the old days!”

“Oh,ah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We have a baby now so-”

“Wait a baby?” it was Megan’s voice that gasped it, with her hand on her heart, “Oh my goodness! Where is it? Did you bring the baby?”

“Um,no, she’s with Bradley’s great-uncle.” Beatrice says, “...I don’t think bringing her over was a good idea.”

“Oh,how old is she?”

“She just turned five months old.” and Beatrice didn’t expect the two women to look up and down her body, almost analyzing it too much for their liking. Beatrice tried to not appear uncomfortable, but she did step closer to Rooster who in turn just brushed his thumb on her ribs to ease her anxiety.

“You look…amazing for someone who just had a baby.” Megan said, “I mean, when I had my baby?I thought Phil was going to divorce me! Did you had any diets? Any surgeries done?”

“...no?”

“Oh, no way.” Rooney laughs, “You are saying you lost it by yourself?”

“...yes?”

Both women blinked towards their former friend, a mix of…something in their eyes that only made Beatrice look at them in confusion. Were they…jealous? No,right? No, there was no way, “...I mean you look amazing.” Megan added after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, “You still look the same.” Beatrice furrows her brows, “I mean, from the last time we saw you. But hey, kids do add that to you right? But anyway, is she a noisy baby? I know mine is.”

“Um,no Nicole is actually really calm.” she looks over at Rooster with a smile, “Rarely cries at night, sleeps like a dream, she gives us absolutely no trouble.” and now Beatrice could see that the mix of things in their eyes were jealousy and astonishment.

Megan inhaled sharply, her smile not reaching her eyes, “Oh but it must be hard for you two to have alone time, no? With such a young baby. I know it was hard for me and Phil.”

And it was Bradley who replies, “Nah.” he smirks, “We make do, don’t we gorgeous?” she heard Rooney turn to her husband and whisper ‘you never call me gorgeous, Frank’ and her husband just ignored her. Beatrice felt a bit bad that she had no other reaction to her former friends’ commentary, they were throwing jabs at her and maybe even trying to see if something would make her crack but Beatrice was happy to hold her ground.

“We do,Roos.” she smiles with hearts in her eyes.

“Wow…um…” Megan blinks, “You two are…how long have you been together?”

“Well, adding to the time we dated about…four years now?” he nods, “Yeah, four years. It’s been great. He’s wonderful.” he chuckles, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses, “Yes you are, don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying it,pretty girl.” she knew Rooster threw the compliments at her any time of the day but there was something in his voice that only made her smile more, like he wanted her former classmates to know that he felt like that towards her. And it was working considering her former friends were just staring wide eyed and slack jawed.

High School Beatrice clearly appreciated that, she needed that relief from him. “Well,it’s been a wonderful ride. I couldn’t have asked for anyone else…but um, yeah, it’s been great. Motherhood was a bit hard but there was nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“So you are military.” Rooney’s husband suddenly speaks, gesturing to Rooster with his phone.

The pilot just arched his brow, “Navy, yeah.”

“So,” the other man tents his hands in front of his lips, “So you see a lot of shit,right? You know,I was a recruit in the Navy many moons ago but I never joined because I guess it wasn’t my calling.” something about the way this man spoke felt like a scammer “But how do you guys do it? I mean you leave the country,right? How does it work?”

“How what works?” Rooster asks, holding the half empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Well,everything, listen I am an entrepreneur and-” honestly Rooster dissociated the second this man opened his mouth,something about crypto and how veterans needed more help and…something about personal life that Rooster didn’t care about. In fact he just blinked, with Beatrice looking from him to Rooney’s husband to her own, furrowing her brows because she could see Rooster’s eyes behind the sunglasses were just blank.

And she bit her lips hard to hold back her laughter.

“Anyway, “ the short man smirks, “What do you think?”

Rooster thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs, ‘I dunno, if it works for you that’s fine.” Beatrice coughed to hide her laughter, looking back around the area to hopefully hold back her snickers even if her husband was smirking himself, “Not my thing though.” and Rooney’s husband deflated, even opening his mouth to continue but Rooster didn’t seem interested.

In fact,he turned to look down at Beatrice, “Hungry?”

“A little.” she smiles, looking back at the person on the barbecue, it was Thomas, “Do you want to snack on something?”

His pupils dilated behind his shades, even if she couldn’t see it, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough, “I do.” he purrs, ‘But I want to eat something first.”

And that bold flirting made her blush and the two women in front of her stare wide eyed. Beatrice breathes out a soft laugh, looking at her hands, “I..I’m going to the bathroom real quick, so um-”

“I can get you something, don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Beatrice smiles, leaning up to kiss his lips sweetly before she walks around her former friends towards the bathroom…trying her hardest to not skip her way over. She bites her lower lip with a smile, shuffling towards the inside of the house - greeting those she hadn’t before - with her cheeks so red they looked like ripe tomatoes.

Once she closed herself in the bathroom she cupped her hands around her mouth and squealed happily, even crouching next to the sink with a sudden fit of happy giggles. She was so happy, “God, thank you,thank you for giving me Rooster.” she whispered to the ceiling, “Thank you,thank you,thank you,thank you!”

High school Beatrice was tending her wounds finally and she was doing it with a smile.

Meanwhile,Rooster made his way over to Thomas who just smiles at him, “Rooster.”

“Anaheim.” the two pilots shake hands and the sandy haired man looks down at the grill, “What do we get so far?”

“Burgers, some steaks, chicken. What tickles your fancy? We even have some shrimp and fish if you want.”

Bradley purses his lips in thought, then rubs his chin, “My wife likes chicken and shrimp, so you can get me some of those.” he says,looking back to where he left Beatrice’s ‘friends’ standing. He was honestly glad to have this break because those people were - for the lack of better word - rough. Maybe it was because of what Beatrice told him, but he really didn’t like them, at all.

“Ah,Beatrice,right?” Anaheim asks as he plates everything for him, “Her and Lydia were classmates.”

“Yea?”

“Lydia really holds Bea in a high regard.” Rooster blinks, tilting his head a bit, ‘I don’t think your wife even remembers how much she helped Lydia.”

Oh.

Oh she really didn’t because Beatrice had no idea who Lydia was until they talked weeks ago. He tried to cover up his surprise by chewing his lower lip and furrowing his brows, “Really?” Anaheim nods, “How so?”

“Ah…well,I don’t think it’s my place.” he chuckles, “I mean, Lily wants to talk to Beatrice about it, but…what I can say is that if it wasn’t for your wife,” he hands him the plate, “I’d never meet mine.”

And Rooster just looked at Anaheim with a confused tilt of his head, opening his mouth only to close it soon after. He…had no idea about something like that, Beatrice never mentioned it…and now he had to wait for her return to ask her about it.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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tgrailwar-zero · 1 year

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Chapter 1: phantom/grey messenger

Darkness. Never-ending, ever-black. Cold and unfeeling. Quiet and resolute. To exist within a void is to exist as nothingness, and yet you can feel something. A breeze. A whisper. Emotions that shouldn't exist within a space like this, and yet they are ever-present. This feeling is familiar, unnervingly so. The sensation of transitioning from one 'nothingness' to the next.

A moment washes over you, before replaced with a burning sensation. Agonizing. Intense. Binding.

A sigil, made of pure mana, emblazons itself upon you, and light quickly fills your vision. Darkness turning to light, and light turning into scenery.

Looking around, you see a destroyed building, and a figure standing in the middle of it. A Servant. Your Servant.

The Servant before you reeks of death and desecration, the armor surrounding them constantly outputting a dangerous, off-putting aura.

You can recognize this Servant as AVENGER. He speaks. It's hard to tell whether he's addressing you or not.

"I am death. I must kill the one that is loved by God. My name is… my name is… Who…who am I…?"

AVENGER hovers in front of you, addled and confused, gripping at his head.

Looking around at the chaos, you're not sure if you're the ones responsible. However, you do understand that you're most likely not alone. Both in terms of enemies, and allies.

Welcome to the T.H.G.W, a Fate-based Quest run via polls!

There are two different posts to progress. Standard polls, that allow you several 'premade' options, and 'Blank polls'- which give the observing Masters a chance to 'write-in' an answer for a following poll! Your poll results will impact the story progression in a number of ways, both based off the choices made, and how many people picked that option! On the base level, the results would be impacted like this:

When dealing with a 2-Option Poll:

90%+: Spectacular success, no consequences are incurred.

76%-89%: Great success, if there are consequences, they’re minimal.

61%-75%: Fair success, the action is successfully taken, and while not the worst possible result, there are a few snags along the way.

50%-60%: Rough success, the action is taken, but there are notable consequences due to your indecision.

When dealing with a 3-Option Poll:

80%+: Spectacular success, no consequences are incurred.

56%-79%: Great success, if there are consequences, they’re minimal.

41%-55%: Fair success, the action is successfully taken, and while not the worst possible result, there are a few snags along the way.

34%-40%: Rough success, the action is taken, but there are notable consequences due to your indecision.

When dealing with a 4-Option Poll:

70%+: Spectacular success, no consequences are incurred.

46%-69%: Great success, if there are consequences, they’re minimal.

31%-45%: Fair success, the action is successfully taken, and while not the worst possible result, there are a few snags along the way.

26%-30%: Rough success, the action is taken, but there are notable consequences due to your indecision.

However, your Servant's statistics, as well as items you find along the way, may also serve to either help or hinder your choices! Work along your Servant and stay aware of their strengths and weaknesses in order to survive the Holy Grail War! Additionally, all posts after this one will exclusively be on @tgrailwar-zero, instead of being crossposted to @tgrailwar!

#thgw story #thgw: chapter 1

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marinersubmariner · 4 days

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I don't normally like to show WIP/sketchy/unfinished artwork because my process is a complete mess and I'm embarrassed by how bad it all is before I reach a point where I'm satisfied enough to call something done. That being said, as the AI inundation is upon us, it feels valuable to share the human trial and error and my own manic desperation that goes into making art. I always spend too much time on stuff that ends up looking like it should not have taken that much time, but I REALLY overcooked my last drawing and fried my own brain. Trying to draw a speeder bike was torture. Here's some of the goofy shit I did!

I really had intended to simply draw an existing speeder bike, but as I considered the ~aesthetic~ I wanted and examined the standard ROTJ-style bike, it wasn't working for me. In terms of motorcycles they're too much like choppers for my taste when I vastly prefer the chunky '80s futurism/cyberpunk/mecha anime look (clearly, since this started out as an Akira reference). But. I have zero expertise in mechanical design or even concept art itself. I do not know how vehicles work or how to draw them. And referencing either real or fictional motorcycles isn't a huge help because they have wheels to focus the design around, which of course hover bikes don't have.

So obviously trying to both design a speeder and draw it in perspective was really difficult to wrap my brain around. I started out by photographing one of my old '90s Micro Machines for reference, but it wasn't exactly useful for extrapolating the shape into a new design:

I sketched out some profiles, but, again, tough to convert to 3D using only my very weak power of imagination:

The only 3D-adjacent tool I know well enough to use is After Effects, which is a poor substitute for a real 3D modeler because it can really only do flat planes and basic shape extrusion, and it was too cumbersome for this. I started to try it and it sucked:

"Just learn a 3D program," you say. "Blender is free." WELL. Maybe someday. But not today. So I resorted to building it in miniature out of cardboard:

This is less mortifying than taking pose reference photos of myself (which I have done a lot! it's a great way to make yourself feel like a complete lunatic!!!) but it was also more work, so. Still makes me feel like a lunatic.

Thankfully it did make it possible for me to finally draw something. The design isn't groundbreaking, and I still have absolutely no idea how to create convincing mechanical details despite poring over mountains of concept art… but an attempt was made. My perspective is probably still out of whack because, despite having studied art throughout my entire academic career, I never officially learned all those multipoint perspective tricks, drawing cubes inside of cubes, etc. I've always preferred and been much better at organic shapes than anything mechanical or architectural.

My initial iterations were more X-Wing/BSG Viper-esque, but I kept being unhappy with the nose shape. I wanted it to be pointy and triangular but I couldn't add enough detail to make it interesting. Even after building it MULTIPLE TIMES I didn't like it, so the shape I ultimately landed on… wasn't one of the prototypes I built. LOL. It was just so hard to tell in the earlier stages, so I had to go through the whole refining process just to land on "nah." It looked alright in cardboard, and then translating it to line art, and then once I colored it I didn't like it. It would have been a lot easier if I could tell at an earlier stage than that!!!!!!

There wasn't any one ship/vehicle I referenced, but things I looked at for inspiration included: the Akira bike (obviously), Tron lightcycles, every time we've ever seen a speeder bike in any piece of Star Wars media, actual motorcycles, X-Wings, A-Wings, U-Wings, Jedi Vectors… etc.

Once I had settled on the split nose, I tried adding vertical stabilizers to the tail section for some more interest back there and to balance out the front, but even though I liked them I thought they made it too busy. It also started to look too much like a miniature ship instead of a bike, like he was riding one of those coin-operated kiddie rides. No!!! I wanted this to look cool!!! So I stuck with the nondescript tail section.

Pose and likeness referencing aren't very exciting but just know that I use a mishmash of references for literally everything. Normally I would pose myself (even though translating my own blobby female proportions into those of a large man is another layer of awkward difficulty), but riding a speeder is a tough action to recreate so I downloaded the "MagicPoser" app on my phone and used that instead. The basic version is free and you can move around limbs and joints in their normal range of motion—some of it gets rubbery, but for the most part it did what I needed it to do.

Also just had to make up an excuse to put him in a pilot helmet! The shape is based on a Y-Wing helmet—a personal favorite of mine—which made sense to me for using on a speeder since it has more face coverage like motorcycle helmets tend to have. (not that I drew him actually wearing it on the speeder, haha. safety first, kids!!—UNLESS you're a dumbass space wizard, then just do whatever looks cool.) I really waffled back and forth on what color to make the visor, because I'm extremely partial to the pink from the Y-Wing helmet, but ultimately I went with the more traditional yellow-orange. Either one looks good with blue and white so I still like 'em both.

This all feels like it was an enormous waste of time, but I did realize the thing that was in my head, so. I guess that's an accomplishment. Unfortunately the problem with making art for myself is that I invariably end up hating my own work, and being in a dead/dying fandom on a dead/dying platform means there is very little external validation to counteract the self-loathing brain worms. Agony!

#my art #my constant need to overexplain myself

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catnippackets · 2 years

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summer seasonal depression gang unite, it's been in the 50s and 60s lately and I felt so full of energy but it's climbing back up to the 80s and 90s and I'm already so tired

aw man :(((( we're hovering around 17-18 celcius lately (which is like 60ish F) which is still pretty welcome but then next week we're gonna get another few 24C days (75F) and I'm not pleased but at least that should surely be the end of it

#ask #Anonymous

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dookins · 1 year

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Your head cannons, hand em over 🧲🕵️🌻🧠

Since I’m trying to distract myself from the potential implosion of the fruits of a month long labor, I’ll answer some asks….

🧲 - Truthfully I was hoping someone would ask me this…. This might be a long one. So just by default, we can see that P03 is a CRT monitor boi. UuU these were the relics we used in our computer labs in elementary school thousands of years ago…. In the 90s…. However CRT computer monitors have been around since their invention in the 70’s. In the 90’s CRTs and pretty much everything else was framed in plastic. But the shine on P03’s grungy metal exterior tells us he’s probably based on more of a mid 80s model. But what cinches it, is the little d-pad on his cheek.

This cute thing 🔝

The D-pad is an invention of the 80s. So I imagine most of his inner workings must follow that ‘futuristic 80’s tech design’ look. What I mean by that is, imagine technology is what it is today, but with an 80’s filter over it. Like the setting in Alien Isolation if any of ya’ll played the game. So his internals must all be made of things one could find in an 80s computer factory…. More or less…. His hovering unit I would assume is powered in one of three ways. Smaller and less harmful versions of EMPs, magnetic repel, or ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ‘science magic.’ And while that last one sounds like a cop out, I wanna bring something else to your attention. It’s been stated time and time again that the OLD_DATA is responsible for giving these characters awareness and true sentience. So perhaps all the scrybes have some of it at their center. The spark that provided their souls. P03’s would just be the most literal of all since he’s a computer in a computer. So you can think of it as the magical science glue holding him together. I feel like the OLD_DATA would interface with him in a way that’s far more unique than the other scrybes…. But I think I’m getting off topic. TLDR; He’s made of late 80s computer scrap and obsolete future tech/evil game code magic. ;)

🕵️ - I think right now P03 is simply existing as sentient data…. I mean, he was before. Everyone in the game technically is. But in the ARG you can see Stoat P03 in code form wink at you. Interestingly, and I didn’t know this, if you go on the Inscryption site and look in the notepad, he’s in there too!! Alerting the player to open the game https://www.inscryption.com/desktop The only difference between than and now is he uploaded the Great Transcendence and was given a bunch of user rights. Mostly I think getting access to the internet was the problem. Maybe now he can go about the web ordering stuff on behalf of a dead Luke Carder, using his information so he can gain access to things in our world later on? So, really chya boi is floating around the internet, with a strong possibility of being attached to Steam since that’s where he was uploading his files to…. I could branch onto another topic on how P03’s motivations never really made a lot of sense to me, but this is runnin hella long already.

🌻 - SECRET SOFTIE!!!! Obviously you can’t just be ANYBODY. You have to be…. (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖) In the KN03! Someone he would explicitly trust showing that side to. And even than, it wouldn’t be a stark change. Let me set the scene….

You pass out exhausted in your clothes from work, drooling on a stiff pillow with your Switch going slack in your hands. You’d fallen asleep playing Inscryption again. Shocker. Since P03 was making repairs to the factory’s Prized Particle Scanner, he couldn’t spare a moment to pause. It was his tool of inscryption after all. Integral to the production and progress of what he found worthy to be recorded. It was his duty as a Scrybe to oversee it. You understand of course, and aren’t perturbed. But without the conversation and witty banter that only a proper opponent could provide, the soft grinding of your thumb against the A button repetitively brings your tired eyes to close. It’s the wee hours of the morning now, and the automatic door to the room slides open revealing the Scrybe in question. He can see you’re sound asleep, sprawled out in what appeared to be an uncomfortable position at best.

…. How did you even manage to fall asleep that way any how? It baffles him. He follows the odd bend of your arm to the Switch barely being held upright by your boneless little fingers. Hmm.. Guess you fell asleep with it on. Quietly hovering over, he removes the Switch from the risk of falling from your hands and looks at the dimmed screen. Your cards are on the board and he can’t help the involuntary smirk as he notices your last play. A Stoat…. A Stoat you’ve leveled up to a 4,6 with the maximum sigils allowed overlapping the card’s inky illustration. Briefly he looks back down at your sleeping face…. Your mouth hanging open mid snore. Wordlessly he sets the Switch back on it’s dock to charge, and grabs the jacket you’ve slung over the back of a chair.

He floats back over, face still neutral, but his eyes carrying a mild trace of softness as he returns to your side…. Delicately he places your jacket over your sleeping form, watching silently as you curl up beneath it for warmth… he turns back to the door, taking one last look at you…

….the corner of his stoic upper lip ticks upwards as he stares and morphs into a light smile. A smile no one would see. Not even the cameras could pick it up…

And after that moment he leaves, the automatic door closing behind him.

When you awake the next morning, you try to remember if you fell asleep with your jacket or not…

🧠 - Kind of a two parter here. So remember when P03 brags to his diary notes about his shiny new OP card Plasma Jimmy? A part of me can’t help but think that Plasma Jimmy got special treatment from him. I would absolutely LOVE to see P03 pulling out his card from the deck and into his hand all surprised and internally going “Alright! P.J. !!” XD Like, YOU KNOW HE’D BE THAT KID RIGHT? The one who brings his rare card to school in a shitty top loader showing it off to all your friends and using it to crush them in battle. Ahhhh youth 😌

#p03 #inscryption p03 #inscryption #p03 headcanon #ask box #p03 asks #robutt #inscryption fanfic #mini fic #p03/reader #long ass post

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chicago-geniza · 8 months

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I had ambitious plans besides making phone calls and placing tomorrow's grocery order and watching Xena but the heat index is hovering around 120 degrees and it is between 80 and 90 degrees in my house WITH the AC on because even AC can't cope with temps like that, so I am going to lie down and move as little as possible

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dddragoni-drabbles · 5 months

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Despite her bravado, Korenna couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension as she approached the cruiser. Gorst had a point- something had to have destroyed all those other ships. She kept on her course, though- she wasn't about to turn back after all it took to get here.

Back at Hopkins Station, Gorst was reading through the data from Korenna's ship uplink. "These readings..." he said, half to himself. "This doesn't make any sense. Ganymede's been derelict for decades, but the energy profile it's givng off is almost like..."

A flashing light on Korenna's dashboard caught her attention. "A target lock? From who?" She looked around, but couldn't see any new ships- but her eyes went wide when she realized the source. Ganymede itself, the plasma railgin on its front starting to glow with power.

Gorst's voice came over the speaker, "Korenna, MOVE!" but she was already slamming on the control stick, upper thrusters bursting to life as her ship dove, just in time as a lance of plasma shot forth from Ganymede, blazing through the spot she'd been moments before. She threw her ship into reverse and shot back towards the debris field as smaller cannons sprung to life, filling the area with laser fire. She wove between the bolts as best she could, but with the sheer volume of lasers, she wasn't going to last long. "Gorst, give me something!"

"Shit! Uh..." He frantically scanned through the data output. "There's a big cluster of wrecks at these coordinates," he said, sending her a telemetry. "Take cover there!"

"That plasma cannon's gonna punch right through! I know you've got that bet with Louis, but trying to get me killed is a bit much!"

"Trust me, I have a plan!"

She groaned, but headed for the cluster, firing her retrorockets to come to a stop. The wrecks absorbed the bulk of the laser fire, but her sensors picked up the plasma cannon recharging. "Now what?"

"The logo, on your dashboard- right before the cannon fires, press it and dive."

"What?"

"Just do it!"

"This better work or I'm haunting you." Korenna hovered one hand over the logo, keeping the other on her control stick while she watched the plasma cannon's readout. 70 percent charged. 80 percent. 90. Now!

The plasma cannon fired, obliterating the first wreck it struck and sending the rest scattering into space. Ganymede's sensors made a sweep of the area. Detecting no active ship signals, it reentered standby mode.

No active signals detected. Entering standby mode.

Just below the now-destroyed cluster, Korenna's heart pounted in her chest as she watched Ganymede's guns power down. After a few tense moments of quiet, she reached for the communicator. "Gorst, what the hell was that?"

"Prototype cloaking device. It was supposed to be a birthday surprise- we were gonna install the full version when you got back. So, uh." He shrugged. "Happy birthday."

#microfiction #korenna #sci fi #gorst #original writing #followup

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tzigone · 1 year

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The Redeemed Rogues

Bouncing around ideas for my headcanon reboot. Now, we all know Flash has an inordinately large number or Rogues that have been redeemed at one time or another. Since my headcanon characters will actually age and their stories will have ends, unlike real comics where they have to be kept in play, I'm thinking about what to do with these folks after they quit their criminal careers. I don't like them bouncing between good and bad - those that are redeemed stay so (and there's no mind-control making them go good).

Al and James are the ones that matter to me, I know Hartley matters to others. And Mick happened in the comics, too. Chime in on which villains you think should or shouldn't go straight, but Al and James are non-negotiable in my universe.

Albert Desmond - First rogue to go straight. Well, he'll quickly become engaged to Rita (maybe meets her on work release?). But he has to get a job. We know from issue 153 that he worked at an industrial company and was offered promotion to supervisor - any idea what he'd actually be doing?

I'm not sure on the idea of kids yet - depends on how his mental health is. While he'll still be hypnotized by Zoom a couple times, I'm definitely not going with Dragon's Eye thing, so he doesn't have that to worry about.

Mick Rory - Well, he got tired of being in jail. Got a straight job. In the comics, it was in a glassworks so his parole officer could frame him. I'm fine with that, but if anyone thinks any other jobs, let me know. His wages will have to be garnished to pay for the damages he's caused to buildings through arson.

I'm much more silver age on Mick's origin. A big show to impress a girl. Though he's not as fickle as Cold. Anyway, he'll probably find a woman who likes dramatic displays. Get married, and maybe have a kid.

James Jesse - Honestly, I just really enjoyed reading him in the '80s Blue Devil comics and then later popping up in '90s Impulse. He's just fun in those. So, like many villains, he has a great invention. His anti-grav (probably not using air pressure version because it's harder for me handwave the science) is something that could be patented. I'm not sure if it's useful for airplanes or hover cars. But it'd be great for getting people out of burning buildings. I think it'd be good for moving things - from furniture to stock in warehouses.

He's not the settle down type. I see him bouncing from occupation to hobby and back as he gets bored with one thing and moves on to the next.

Hartley Rathaway - I admit to finding the incredibly bribing first appearance of his parents kind of amusing. I feel he's more defined by his dynamic with Wally. Do you think they should still be killed?

Then there are his personal relationships. I didn't read New 52 for various reasons. I understand he was married to Barry's boss there. That seems less likely with Barry not being youthified. And a large percentage of gay men are not in monogamous relationships, so it might be nice to explore that. Of course, I didn't read, so the marriage may not have included sexual monogamy.

Leonard Snart - He just gets older. After Barry's "death," there's little reason to keep up the show. Barry comes back, but he stays retired.

I've said before that his cold gun is worth a fortune. Great for police officers and home defense. And, depending on how it works for stasis-ness, it would be amazing for EMTs. And yeah, kids are going to get ahold of them and shoot each other with them - but hey, it's not like it hurts anyone.

He would be so rich, and him being rich off the dollars of police departments is amusing. He'd take care of his sister. I can't decide what to do with her - her focus was all about Roscoe originally, which makes her unwilling to give up and kinda one note. Either her motivation changes, as with the comic, or she loses her drive for some reason. Since Barry won't stay dead, maybe she finds out Roscoe was cheating or something. Or she could be given an entirely new motivation.

Anyway, Leonard will live well, and fall madly in love two or three times a year. He's very fickle, though, so it never lasts more than a couple months.

#Pied Piper #Leonard Snart #Mick Rory #James Jesse #Albert Desmond #Captain Cold #Hartley Rathaway #Heat Wave #Doctor Alchemy #The Trickster #Mr Element

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ammg-old2 · 9 months

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The ocean off the coast of southern Florida is having a long, hot summer. For weeks, surface temperatures hovered around 90 degrees Fahrenheit, before dropping to the 80s last week. The world’s third-largest barrier reef is dying, and scientists are fishing out coral samples and bringing them to the cool safety of laboratory tanks. One spot along the coastline hit triple-digit temperatures last month, conditions you would expect inside a hot tub. Some coastal Floridians skipped their usual dips in the ocean because it didn’t seem appealing anymore.

Marine heat waves—periods of persistent and anomalously high temperatures of surface seawater—have materialized in other parts of the world too. The surface temperatures of about 44 percent of Earth’s oceans are currently experiencing extreme heat, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Some of that warming is to be expected, because 2023 is an El Niño year. But “all of these marine heat waves are made warmer because of climate change,” Dillon Amaya, a research scientist at NOAA’s Physical Sciences Laboratory, told me. June was already a record-breaking month for the world’s oceans, and then July came along and topped it. According to the experimental forecast system that Amaya and his colleagues run at NOAA, half of the world’s oceans may be in the throes of a heat wave by September.

Earth is an ocean planet, a water world. We have not observed anything like it yet in the universe, not even with our best telescopes, and so we cannot know exactly how rare—and thus, how difficult—it may be for the forces of cosmic nature to produce such a thing. And yet, here we are, simmering its oceans at our peril and changing the fundamental makeup of the ecosystem that defines Earth. Our oceans have absorbed most of the excess heat produced by greenhouse-gas emissions in recent decades, serving as a buffer that protects us from the worst effects of climate change. Humans may be sweltering on land this summer, but our planet’s future—and therefore ours—is intimately tied with the sea.

Astronomers have spent years searching for worlds beyond our solar system that might host oceans, in the hopes that they also host life. Of the more than 5,000 planets they’ve found, only a few are in the habitable zone—at the right distance from their star to be conducive to liquid, flowing water. And scientists have yet to confirm that any rocky, Earth-size planets are also wet. Part of the problem is that oceans are difficult to detect with the technology available to researchers today. Our planet may be slick with rolling seas, but “if we were to observe Earth as an exoplanet, from a different system, we could not measure that Earth has water,” Charles Cadieux, an astronomer at the University of Montreal, told me.

Other oceans exist in our very own solar system but are hidden beneath the surface of icy moons, their exact composition unknown to us. Krista Soderlund, a research scientist at the University of Texas at Austin, studies Europa, a moon of Jupiter with a salty subsurface ocean that could harbor microbial life; she spends her days marveling at this other ocean world, all while worrying about the one she lives on. “I don’t really have a way to reconcile that,” Soderlund told me. “You can see the short, rapid changes right now, and then I’m looking forward to how that’s going to affect my kids. How much worse is it going to be?”

Next year, NASA is scheduled to launch the mission that Soderlund is working on: a spacecraft that will reach Europa in 2030. The vessel will carry a plaque engraved with a poem written by the U.S. poet laureate, which reads in part, “O second moon, we, too, are made / of water, of vast and beckoning seas.” This idea of connection, a touch of intimacy in an unfamiliar cosmos, is lovely. Read another way, it sounds almost like an elegy. We are made of vast seas. But when those seas are superheated, dissolving the shells and skeletons of marine creatures and enabling toxic blooms of algae, they beg for relief more than they beckon.

Our planet did not start out with seas. They came later, after Earth had cooled down from its formative molten years. How Earth got its water remains an open question; some researchers believe that it arrived inside asteroids that bombarded Earth several billion years ago, while others suggest that it was locked within the planet since it first formed out of the mountain-size rocks whizzing around the early solar system. This September, a NASA spacecraft will bring home samples from an asteroid that has remained unchanged since that cosmic period, and the rocky bits and pieces could reveal crucial information about our very existence. Scientists hope to uncover clues about the forces that gave rise to Earth’s oceans and enriched them with the chemical compounds that eventually sparked life.

In the face of climate change, the thrill of discovery is tinged with melancholy; as we learn more about how our ocean planet came to be, we’re subjecting its waters to intense heat, and the entire planet is facing the consequences. Hot oceans are melting ice sheets, intensifying hurricanes, and devastating fishing industries. “The Earth has seen a lot of change in its life,” Karen St. Germain, the director of NASA’s Earth-science division, told me. “But we are driving it now in a way that it hasn’t been driven before.”

Astronomers refer to the habitable region around a star as the Goldilocks zone. There, conditions are not too hot and not too cold, but just right for water to lap on alien shores. Earth is squarely in our sun’s habitable zone, and will enjoy its pleasant perch for at least another few billion years, until the sun grows hot enough to truly boil the planet’s oceans away. But Earth may become unlivable long before that: floods, droughts, wildfires, days so hot that touching asphalt can severely burn your skin, hot-tub seas that can roil coral and humans alike.

Last week, the head of the United Nations said, “The era of global warming has ended; the era of global boiling has arrived.” Climate scientists have cautioned that global boiling is not a scientific term, and that our current spate of extreme weather has been predicted for years. This is global warming, they say, and it’s plenty dramatic. Still, boiling can help emphasize the visceral urgency of what’s happening in the water. Because it is getting more difficult each day to look around and feel that things here are just right.

#current events #environmentalism #climate change #global warming #meteorology #astronomy #oceanology #ecology #water

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