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inkribbon796 · 3 years

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The Demons Inside

Summary: With an unexpected lull in their enemies’ activity, the heroes try to go digging for answers.

A/N: Visitation Day.

Things in the base had quieted down. The Suits seemed to be in hiding. A troubling scenario since there seemed to be no cause for it. Sure Spade hadn’t yet retrieved his hand, but he wasn’t actively trying to steal it or the nanites back.

In fact it had been two full days since anyone had seen Spade, the thefts died down but the occasional demon hunter was being killed in the dead of night. But the lull was somehow worse than having the Suits always on the move.

So the heroes took the time to reconvene, making sure to keep a sufficient amount of heroes out in the city because the Suits seemed to know too much about their movements to allow anything less.

“It’s just,” Marvin began another rant over Bing’s phone, Nate was in a meeting room with Bing, Logan, Yancy, King, and J.J. “How do they always know where we fookin’[1] are?”

“Yeah that’s what’s botherin’[2] me too, dude,” Bing said, his eyes narrowing in thought even though his shades were hiding it. “Almost like we got—”

A knock came at the door, despite the fact that the door wasn’t even closed. It was the Host, he walked in, “Might the Host suggest something to assist the heroes?”

“Yeah, shoot,” Bing shrugged, J.J looking at the Host suspiciously as the seer walked in.

The Host cleared his throat, “The heroes are asking information from every side except for the one being targeted by the Suits the most, surely there would be some reason for it?”

“Who, the hunters, they’s[3] hate us?” Yancy reminded.

“For now,” the Host offered, “but the Host would think the heroes would want all the information they could get.”

“I would fookin’[1] love that,” Marvin spoke up. “But I’m bein’ fookin’ blackmailed, ‘memeber?”[4]

“Well, then it is a good thing that Marvin is not here to communicate with them,” the Host reminded smugly, leaning closer to the phone.

Marvin was quiet for a bit, then, “Aww, Host, yer doin’ a fookin’ bang up job ta get inta my good graces, yeh hear?”[5]

“The Host regrets to inform Marvin that he is breaking up and as such will not even hear what the heroes will talk about,” the Host smiled.

“Ahhh, nah, whate’er[6] will I—” Marvin lamented overdramatically before hanging up on his own.

“Well,” the Host smiled at Bing and Nate who smiled back at him. “Now that is he will not be here, the heroes are free to do whatever they want.”

“That’s all well an’ good, but how are we gonna get a hunter ta actually talk wit’ us?”[7] Yancy questioned.

“I know a hunter who will talk first, fight second,” Nate realized, moving back the Host. “Lo, come on, let’s go before the Suits come out of hiding.”

“Right,” Logan got up, making sure he was masked before leaving.

The other heroes went to the garage, mostly because that was becoming the spot where they talked to people in privacy who weren’t part of the Coalition.

Logan and Nate brought a hunter with them who was the only hunter in the city who wasn’t actively trying to kill Nate on sight. Nate introduced them as Taylor.

“We’s[8] met,” Yancy reminded curtly, standing protectively in front of King, the hunter staring at him cautiously. “What made youse wanna bother talkin’ to us now?”[9]

“The Guildmaster might be better than her predecessor but she’s too proud to ask for help,” Taylor sighed. “Believe me, if not for Nate I wouldn’t be here either.”

Nate stiffened before his skin paled and dark purple lines spread down from his eyes. Mare smiled, “If you don’t want to be here, then no one’s stopping you from leaving.”

“Don’t,” Taylor warned Mare. “It’s bad enough he’s letting you hitchhike.”

Shaking his head, Nate snapped, “Mare, don’t be an ass.”

“Oh, I’ll just let you deal with the hunters on your own then,” Mare responded snidely.

“Anyways, I can try and help but I just want to know,” the hunter cut in. “How many demons do you have in here and how many of them actually have regular hosts?”

“Nate and Mare,” Logan pointed to the singer.

“No, I meant the others,” Taylor motioned to Yancy and King.

“Ehh?” Yancy raised an eyebrow.

“You’re two of three adult-looking spawnlings and then there’s the,” the hunter visibly looked sick, “the kid.”

“Look we’s really only demons in name, none ‘a us can possess people,”[10] Yancy shrugged “An’ we’s only became demons ‘cause we’s are a part ‘a Dark an’ Wil’s family.”[11]

“Demons don’t form families,” Taylor scoffed in frustration, as if the heroes just weren’t getting it.

“Well one of them did, and Dark carved up some of his own territory to give them their own,” Nate told them.

“Yes, well,” Taylor began. “It is an abnormally large pact, usually only two or three demons can have an alliance before they fall to infighting. It makes sense he would kick the three of you out.”

King made a scoffing laugh at that, “You clearly don’t know shit about Dark then. He wouldn’t have kicked us out, even if we’d tried to kill him. The three of us left on our own, and given half a chance Dark would drag us back to the Manor kicking and screaming.”

“Demons don’t do that,” the hunter repeated. “That goes against everything that makes a demon in the first place. Even empaths shove their spawnlings out of the nest the first chance they get.”

Yancy glared at them, “Look, if youse ain’t gonna listen ta what we’s gotta say, we’s just gonna go back ta whate’er the fook we were doin’.”[12]

The hunter took a deep breath, clearly not believing him but said, “Fine, fine. Just are you still in your original bodies, or in someone else’s?”

“For better or worse I’m still in my own,” King answered, clearly baffled by the question itself. Yancy answered the same.

“The Host was made from the Author’s fractured mind and is still in the same body,” the Host answered. “The Entity and the Madman’s children that are aligned with the heroes are of no moral concern to the hunters. As for Lunky, their body was made from the ground up to suit them and no other soul has or will be housed in that vessel. No child was sacrificed, so the hunters need not worry about that either.”

The hunter was just studying the Host, clearly looking for any sigh of malice of dishonesty. “Fine,” they forced themself to say. “Fine, we know the most about Spade, obviously.”

At that moment, Mini walked in with the toolbox, and Lunky was following close behind making their little screeching noises, but when the spawnling saw the hunter their demeanor instantly did a one-eighty.

Lunky screeched at them, clinging onto Mini. The little spawnling’s arms stretched out to try and bring King and Yancy closer to them.

“Hey, bud,” King smiled, walking over and Lunky stretched to slip underneath King’s cape to glare at the hunter.

The action got a chuckle out of the animal magnet. “You trying to be big and scary, Junior?”

Lunky screeched at their father in complaint.

“Oh, sorry,” King smiled, “I’ll let you finish. So big and scary, aren’t you?”

“Dark thinks they’re just trying to crave out their own territory,” King explained, seeing the cautious look on the hunter’s face. “I just move around a lot, so they don’t know what they want, but they like the park.”

Bing chuckled as he walked over and took his toolbox from Mini, and stealthily took Lunky and placed him on his own shoulders. The 2-D drawing held onto Bing’s synthetic hair and glowering at the hunter, little growls coming from the small demon. “I just think they’re so social that people are their territory.”

“Maybe,” King smiled, fixing his crown.

The hunter, with every ounce of self control and clenched teeth, turned away from Lunky and King to look at Nate. “Alright we’re almost 100% positive that Spade’s a demon. We’re fairly certain that Hearts and Diamonds aren’t, and if Clubs isn’t a demon he’s really close to turning.”

“You sure?” Nate asked. “He’s violent and he’s sadistic as fuck but he primarily uses tech.”

Taylor looked frustrated, “So, he’s just a particularly smart glitch, apparently if a demon can start a family then a glitch can have a brain and an attention span long enough to help take over a city.”

“That would explain why Anti in particular is always going after Spade,” Logan commented. “As I understand it, demons are naturally territorial.”

They all got to talking, the hunter giving what information they could and eventually when Mini had to get his batteries recharged and his nanites flushed and refreshed, the hunter got ready to leave. Bing set him up in the garage and Lunky guarded over Mini’s drive and chittering at Mini as Bing watched them in amusement.

As the hunter walked out, Yancy followed them. He wasn’t trying to hide or be quiet.

“What do you get from working with King and his spawnling?” The hunter asked.

“Lunk’s my nephew an’[13] Kay’s my brother, that’s all there is ta[14] it,” Yancy started lighting up a cigarette. “King an’ the kid haven’t done a thin’ so let ‘em be.”[15]

Taylor went quiet for a moment, “I’ve been a hunter all my life, it’ll take some time to get over the fact that you’re all demons and demons kill people.”

Yancy took the cigarette out of his mouth to sigh. “Youse wanna go after Ills fer bein’ a thief, Yan fer killing people, or e’en Bim fer bein’ the fookin’ worst ta people, that’s fine. But King’s not that type ‘a person. An’ youse only care about humans so Lunky is none ‘a youse’s business. They’s only feed off demons. Leave ‘em outta it.”[16]

“So long as they don’t hunt humans,” Taylor reluctantly decided. “ I can pretend they’re not demons.”

The ex-convict sighed, “Yeah, that’s the best I can hope fer[17].”

He turned and walked back towards the base, the hunter watched him leave before going their own way. The day started turning to dusk in the sky.

The Host was down in his library, walking back in from talking to the hunter and the other heroes. As he narrated he became aware of another soul in his personal room and his bat appeared in his hand. Wheeling around, the seer swung the bat and his narrations halted when it came into contact with an aura that was almost as strong as his and it absorbed the blow.

The Host saw Diamonds and struggled to force the man’s actual name but his voice was trapped, strangled by the weight of his own narrations.

“The Host demands to know why Diamonds has intruded upon the Host’s space,” the Host demanded furiously.

“You stopped Bing, you stopped his witch hunt,” “J.J” sneered. “You let me have at least another day or two of unsuspected free reign here. Why?”

“The Host doesn’t have a choice,” the seer spat. “The Host needs to win this time, he must.”

“When you win, we win,” Diamonds reminded smugly.

“When . . .” the Host fought to choke out the real name again, “If Clubs wins, the Host loses.”

And with that the Host struck with his bat and his aura against Diamonds, hitting him directly in the face, and it made him whip his head back.

One instant he was standing in the Host’s library and in the next he was back in the elevator, ears ringing painfully and nose bleeding.

“Arghhh,” Diamonds groaned, bringing his hand to his nose and making sure he was still looking like J.J.

He wasn’t, which was an easy fix and came at the right second because the elevator doors opened and Yancy was standing there talking to Bing, and Bing was looking right at him.

“****![18] Jay, little dude are you alright man?” Bing asked in concern.

“Yes,” Diamonds signed with one hand as he tried not to leave any of his blood behind, the alarm not faked in the slightest because he’d almost been caught. “Don’t know why I’m bleeding.”

Bing and Yancy quickly rushed J.J to Iplier who was coming through the base’s front door and he got a quick checkup, and in the chaos the two drops of blood in the elevator were left on the ground, as the elevator doors closed, bringing the elevator back down to the Host.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. fucking

2. bothering

3. they

4. But I’m being fucking blackmailed, remeber?

5. Aww, Host, you’re doing a fucking bang up job to get into my good graces, you hear?

6. whatever

7. That’s all well and good, but how are we going to get a hunter to actually talk with us?

8. we’ve

9. What made you want to bother talking to us now?

10. Look we’re really only demons in name, none of us can possess people

11. And we only became demons because we’re a part of Dark and Wil’s family.

12. Look, if you aren’t going to listen to what we’ve got to say, we’re just going to go back to whatever the fuck we were doing.

13. and

14. to

15. King and the kid haven’t done a thing so let them be.

16. You want to go after Ills fer being a thief, Yan for killing people, or even Bim for being the fucking worst to people, that’s fine. But King’s not that type of person. And you only care about humans so Lunky’s none of your business. They only feed off demons. Leave them out of it.

17. for

18. Shit!

#superhero au #masks and maladies #markiplier #jacksepticeye #natewantstobattle #thomas sanders #ahwm yancy #yancy the prisoner #bingiplier #marvin the magnificent #natemare #logan sanders #king of the squirrels #lunky #mini bing #healthy family of demons #king being a good dad #bing being a good dad #hunters are too used to evil demons

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lawrenceop · 4 years

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HOMILY for 23rd Sunday after Pentecost

Phil 3:17-21, 4:1-3; Matt 9:18-26

The word science comes from scientia which means knowledge. Since the beginning of the pandemic, the Prime Minister of this country has been saying that he’s “following the science”. But the problem with human knowledge and thus human science is that we learn discursively, imperfectly, and fallibly. Hence there is much disagreement about the science behind the virus, and how to best supposedly control the virus, and we’re all acting on very limited knowledge. However even if we had all the knowledge, all the science available to us human beings, we might still lack wisdom, which leads to our fullest human flourishing. For the internet might be said to have lots of knowledge, but wisdom is less in evidence online, and lacking in the prudential decisions behind some of the Regulations that now restrict our lives and our movements. Hence Pope Francis rightly observed in Fratelli tutti, “The flood of information at our fingertips does not make for greater wisdom. Wisdom is not born of quick searches on the internet nor is it a mass of unverified data. That is not the way to mature in the encounter with truth.”

Rather, Truth is a person, the living God, who we, as frail mortal human beings must first have the humility to encounter and worship and adore. And it seems that all the science and all the technical knowledge and know-how of our time amounts to very little if we do not recognise this basic fact: That our science, our medical knowledge, our Government Guidelines, our NHS, our economic packages, our human accomplishments ultimately cannot save us. This is not to say that these human goods cannot help us, and indeed, they can prolong our time on this earth and extend us some time. But, ultimately, none of this scientia amounts to sapientia, wisdom. And yet, we’re meant to be homo sapiens, the wise man. How grandiose that name is, how full of promise, and yet how unrealised. For as Proverbs says: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov 9:10), and yet, rather than to fear the invisible God, the Lord of life and death and the source of all existence, so many have, instead, fear for the invisible virus. Perhaps the sad truth is that we have tamed God, domesticated God, and made him manageable, and even, accountable to us.

Hence Pope Francis observed in March when the first wave of the pandemic hit Italy: “The tempest lays bare all our prepackaged ideas and forgetfulness of what nourishes our people’s souls; all those attempts that anesthetize us with ways of thinking and acting that supposedly “save” us, but instead prove incapable of putting us in touch with our roots and keeping alive the memory of those who have gone before us. We deprive ourselves of the antibodies we need to confront adversity.”

And so, as we largely sit and wait in our homes now, as we are confronted by the foolishness of our age, and the folly of our leaders, and, often too, our own lack of wisdom, let us listen again to what the Holy Father said then. “‘Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?’ Lord, you are calling to us, calling us to faith. Which is not so much believing that you exist, but coming to you and trusting in you… ‘Why are you afraid? Have you no faith’? Faith begins when we realise we are in need of salvation. We are not self-sufficient; by ourselves we founder: we need the Lord, like ancient navigators needed the stars. Let us invite Jesus into the boats of our lives. Let us hand over our fears to him so that he can conquer them.”

All the knowledge we have will not help us nor save us unless they lead first of all to this realisation: Man needs God, and without him we are literally nothing. Hence we must fear the Lord, that is to say, reverence him, acknowledge his sovereignty, and worship him with filial love. Our holy sister St Catherine of Siena, whose ardour for God was passionate and child-like, and who lived through a great plague that wiped out a third of Siena’s population and ten members of her immediate family, thus said with great wisdom “Let your will, not mine, be done in all things, Lord [Jesus]. For I am darkness and you are light; I am not, whereas you are He who is; I most ignorant, and you the wisdom of God the Father.”

If we seek wisdom, sapientia therefore, and would rise above the fray of mere human scientia, then we have to seek Christ and humble ourselves before him. In today’s Gospel, therefore, we find a ruler, that is to say, the political leader of a local community, one who is in the elite core going to Jesus. Another, who is at the very margins of the community, ostracized by society because she suffered the flow of blood, haemorrhaging for the past 12 years, also goes to Jesus; one a man, another a woman; both go to Jesus for help. They thus represent all of humanity, both the powerful and the dispossessed, male and female, young and old. And they go to Jesus bearing the conditions that are common to us all: our human mortality. The woman goes to Jesus suffering from a debilitating illness; the man goes to Jesus on behalf of his child who has suffered the last and greatest illness that afflicts Mankind, death itself.

Almost invariably, it is sickness and death that challenges and tests our faith. Confronted with our mortal limitations, we are tempted by the Enemy to doubt God. These two characters in today’s Gospel thus represent all of humanity, who are prone to the suffering that they have, who sorrow and grieve even as the father does for his dead daughter. So, what are we to do when we endure these mortal pains? Go to Jesus.

But this takes courage. People who cling to the supposed certitude of scientific knowledge and who scorn religions and the faithful think that we are cowardly, needing the opiate or the crutch of religion. However, as we know from our own experience, faith, especially in a society that is toxic to faith and belief in God, requires courage. So, in the Gospel, Jesus says to the woman, "Take heart" or in other translations, simply "Courage!". The same Greek word, in fact, is used later on in St Matthew's Gospel when there is a storm at sea and the apostles cry out in fear. Jesus appears to them, walking on the sea in the midst of the storm, and he says: "Take heart, courage, it is I; have no fear" (Mt 14:27). The storms of the human life are its trials and sufferings: illness, grief, death. These stir us up. But God is Lord of the storms, he is able to reach out in the midst of them, and he comes to us, calling out to us to go to him in faith and hope and trust. He is calling out to you now, even in the isolation of your own homes, in the turmoil of 2020 and even through the fog of anxiety. Jesus is calling out to us, to go to him, to trust him, to have faith that he is with us to help us. And this faith takes courage.

The woman who is not allowed to come into the city had to overcome her fear of social conventions and customs, of public disapproval and even violence (if she were caught) to approach Jesus. But, even so, she reaches out to just touch the tassels of his garment from behind, not daring to be seen by others. But this is enough. She has done a very brave thing, risking further social exclusion and harm just to touch his garment. And the man who had rushed out to find Jesus when his daughter had died – he must have risked humiliation and the fear of failure. For if the crowd laughed at Jesus, they would also have ridiculed the father of the dead girl for going to Jesus to seek a cure for death. So, he too has done a brave thing, risking reputation and public esteem and even risking his hopes in order to go to Christ and seek help. They go – perhaps because they're desperate, but hope often springs from such difficult conditions – but nevertheless they go because, ultimately, they believe. They believe that Jesus can and will and does help them. Do we?

Pope Francis mentioned that merely amassing information online wasn’t the “mature way to encounter truth”. What is the mature way to encounter truth? It is to live with the basic truth of our mortality, of the finitude of this life, of the mysteriousness of God and his created order, both of which we can never control nor manipulate for our own comfort and convenience and pleasure. Rather, God is to be feared and adored, loved as a Father and yet approached with awe. Thus the man in the Gospel approaches Jesus on his knees. We approach truth with maturity when we do so with courage and hope; with expectation but without presumption; and thus we come to God and allow him to be God, to do as he wills with us, trusting in his fundamental love for us. And love doesn’t mean that God gives us what we want but rather what our Father knows is best for us at this time. St Catherine of Siena thus affirmed that Jesus said to her: “You must not be anxious or afraid for I shall always be with you.” Indeed, God loves us, and he never abandons us, and in him is eternal life and beatitude. To know this is to possess wisdom.

At this time of the pandemic, many might think that what our human community needs now is health. Indeed, the man and woman in the Gospel go to Jesus in search of health and well-being–knowing that Jesus heals, it makes sense to do this. But this is mere knowledge. For Jesus not only heals us of our bodily ailments, but he cures us of death itself by, finally, raising us from the dead to share in the divine life. Believing this is wisdom. The fullness of life, ultimately, is why we need to go to Christ; go to the Living God; cling to him, with faith and love. For what we want, fundamentally, is salus, a word which in Latin means ‘health’, but the fullness of heath for a human being consists not only in the good of the body but also the good of the soul. Hence salus also translates as ‘salvation’. For us human beings, homo sapiens, who are a unity of body and soul, it would be wise to pay attention to this so that if any person desires to truly ‘stay safe’ then let him truly stay close to Jesus Christ in whom alone is Man’s salus: our health, our well-being, and our salvation! Because, as Pope Francis put it, “with God life never dies”!

#salvation #health #knowledge #Wisdom #pandemic #faith #hope

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lucyoftheabyss48 · 5 years

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Thoughts on Promare Part 2: The Meaning of the Promare

Read part one: a Galolio relationship analysis--> here.

So I got to thinking, what exactly are the Promare? How do they choose who to dwell in? Why was Lio so much stronger than all the other Burnish? On that matter, how was Kray so strong too? And how does Galo fit in with these two? After thinking about these things, I’ve come to a few conclusions:

1) Kray and Lio are not all that different from each other. Neither of them intended to be villains, they were just at the mercy of their emotions and circumstances.

2) Because of this, Galo wanted to save them both. Galo ended up representing hope for them.

3) A gap or emptiness along with a strong emotion is essential for the Promare to manifest within a person. The Promare fill in the emptiness that the Burnish feel. This will be evidenced by Kray, Lio, and Galo.

Kray’s Fear

Let’s start with Kray. As far as we know from the movie, Kray was an undergrad scientist working with the scientist Deus Prometh when he first became a Burnish. He was young, he had a future, he had his whole life to look forward to. He still had to find his purpose in life. But the second he became a Burnish, it was all taken away from him. He lost everything, with no hope of return.

He was terrified of that. So he used Galo, an innocent child who just happened to get caught in his flames, used him as a stepping stone to become a hero, and eventually leader of Promepolis. He secured his safe future, by becoming someone valuable and worthy to society. He found his place in the world.

But that wasn’t enough to dispel his fear. He was still a Burnish. Resisting the urge to burn took everything he had. The mere existence of the Burnish was a constant reminder of who he really was, the self that he tried so hard to extinguish. The Burnish were monsters, harmful to society, enemy of mankind. But he was one of them. The humans would never accept them — never accept him. To quell his fears, he planned a mass genocide of the Burnish and a migration to a new world with his carefully selected pawns. No one would ever find out he was a Burnish.

No one would ever take away his place.

He would never have to be scared again.

This intense fear is the fuel driving Kray’s every action. He was young and lost and didn’t know what to do with his life. He didn’t know if he would ever amount to anything, but at least he had hope that he could.

The Promare’s foremost desire is “to burn.” And for them, this is synonymous with: “to live.”

Kray was alive, but he wasn’t truly living. He was existing in that gap of the uncertainty of his place and his worth. Combined with his fear of never finding his place, this emptiness and this fear shackled him. It imprisoned him, but he desired to be free. The Promare fed on that, and told him to burn. They told him to live.

As a result, they had killed his hope.

That’s why Kray hates Galo so much. Galo is fair and unprejudiced, willing to believe that Burnish are not all bad, that there are good people among them. He can change his beliefs should he learn new information, and he truly believes that people are strong and good inherently. Including the Burnish.

But Kray hates the Burnish. He hates that he’s one of them. Burnish can never live together with humanity in peace. He thinks that the only choice is to kill them all, so he can hide among the humans in safety and security.

Yet here is Galo, who firmly believes that humans and Burnish can coexist.

Galo, who believes Burnish aren’t all bad, is the one human who could possibly accept Kray’s true self. Galo rekindled his hope, when he had tried all this time to become someone different and quash it. Kray couldn’t stand that, and couldn’t stand Galo, and that’s why he wanted him to die.

Lio’s Wish

We don’t know exactly when or how he became a Burnish, but we do know how he ended up becoming leader of the Mad Burnish, from the Lio-Hen. He knew the Burnish could never coexist with humans. But attacking thoughtlessly would only make life for the Burnish more difficult, as the humans would crackdown on them more should they kill anyone. So he decided that the Burnish would never kill, and just peacefully extract themselves from human society to create a place of their own.

Lio wished that he and the Burnish could just be accepted. He wished that they could live together in peace. He wished that they could have a place in society. But as a Burnish, and as their leader, he didn’t have that. He never could. This was his emptiness.

But the Promare within him told him to burn, told him to live. He couldn’t resist that urge. He knew no Burnish ever could. So he gave up on finding his place in human society, on peaceful coexistence, and chose to lead everyone to creating their own self-sufficient one, away from humans. He wanted to protect them.

Being a Burnish meant Lio gave up hope on finding a place to belong together with humans. He found a new one with his fellow Burnish and with the Promare within himself. But he, like Kray, firmly and strongly believed that Burnish had no place in current human society.

And as we know well, Galo doesn’t think so. Galo stands for hope, for both Lio and Kray when they had given up. He was hope for the future, hope for coexistence, and hope for finding “the place that [they] lost.” He made the two of them believe again that they weren’t monsters, they weren’t outcasts meant to be isolated. They had worth, as people. They were just as human as anyone, and they deserved a place to belong.

They deserved to live.

Galo’s Hope

Lastly, we have Galo. Galo was everything a Burnish could be, without actually being one of them. He is, in a word, fiery. He is hot headed and he can be brash, and he isn’t restricted in the slightest. He lives as he wants to live: with a blazing firefighter’s soul.

He doesn’t need the Promare to burn. He burns all on his own.

And that’s because he had a goal and someone to look up to. Someone he didn’t want to disappoint. Someone he wanted to be like. He did everything with Kray in mind.

But let’s think about this a little deeper. He was just a kid when his house burned down and his family died. He was a nobody, until Kray “saved” him. Then Kray brought him up, encouraged him to become a firefighter, supported him in his every endeavor. And in turn, Kray became a hero and the city governor. Kray became someone important, someone special, because of Galo.

Kray became a hero because of a nobody like Galo, then continued to give him nothing but support and guidance, but also without giving him special treatment. By all appearances, Kray had seemingly unshakeable belief in him.

You can imagine, how important of an existence Kray was to Galo, because Kray had told him he was somebody, when all he had ever believed was that he was nobody.

You can also imagine then, how hurt and betrayed Galo must have been to find out the truth about Kray. This betrayal formed, or rather, revived Galo’s emptiness.

But Lio’s flame filled that gap. Lio’s flame, that didn’t want to hurt anyone, was a flame that wished to protect people. Everything Galo knew had been a lie, but Lio and his flame reminded Galo of the one belief of his that would never go out.

That he was a firefighter meant to save people. That he was somebody meant to bring hope to everyone. And most importantly, that Galo was somebody who could.

That’s why when he punched Kray down after freeing Lio from the engine’s core, he said to Kray, “I’ll save Lio, this world, and you.” That’s why his weapon is a Matoi, meant to be a beacon in the smoke for others to run toward in safety. He is hope, for survival from the flames. He is hope, for life. So when Lio passed the Promare onto him to protect him, Galo burned — not for self-preservation, but to live. He and Lio passed that on to everyone: to Kray, to the world, and to the Promare. He accepted everyone’s wish to burn.

The Meaning of the Promare

The Promare’s foremost desire is to burn, because they are trapped within the earth’s core. They feed on an emptiness, a feeling of incompleteness, that the Burnish provide. Both the Burnish and the Promare only wish to live in freedom. By existing symbiotically, they can burn more freely than they could have on their own. The Promare allowed them to live.

That’s why when Lio tried to save the dying Thyma, or when Galo saved Lio with the Burnish CPR, they pass the Promare from one person to the other. They pass the fire, the torch, to the next person, with the express purpose of having them live.

Kray was hiding the truth about the Promare and the fact that he was a Burnish. Lio was gathering his people to hide them away from the humans in an isolated community. They were both hiding things, and fighting on their own, which forced them to be on such opposing extremes. As the two strongest Burnish, and leaders of their own peoples, Kray and Lio both understood each other in a way no one else did.

And by living in hiding, they had given up on being accepted.

But then Galo came along and told them, “It’s okay to be Burnish. It’s okay to be different.”

Promare is all about accepting our own unique traits, and not giving up on asking for acceptance too. Because if we do, then we aren’t truly living. And I think that’s just one of many great messages this movie is sending.

#promare #galo thymos #lio fotia #kray foresight #promare analysis #anime analysis

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vivxwrites · 5 years

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Guardian Angel || Part III

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1384

Summary: Same as always, no spoilers

Warnings: Minor character death, semi-graphic gory description, blood (it’s really not too bad but i’m just listing these things to be safe)

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

A/N: Heyo I’m really glad that people enjoy this series. Everyone leaving notes means so much to me <3 :)

Parts: {I}, {II}, {III}, {IV}, {V}

Italics are flashbacks

“It’s ok I’m fin-” Carol stopped short when she lifted her gaze to see who had unceremoniously knocked her onto her ass. Oh wow. Her senses were assaulted with the sight of the ethereal being stood in front of her and Carol questioned what she had done to be graced with this angel’s very presence. She openly gawked at you as if she were in some sort of trance and she admired the soft glowing features of your face, seemingly sculpted by God himself. Butterflies erupted in her gut, a feeling that she hadn’t experienced since early last year and her heart fluttered delicately against her rib-cage. Something about you was just so familiar to her but she wasn’t able to place where she could have possibly seen you before. She couldn’t shake off the pure awe that had struck her upon laying eyes on you. Your white wings were extended behind you and Carol took note of their slightly mangled appearance while she studied them in wonder. She observed how your left wing was missing a considerable amount of feathers and she cocked her head to the side with curiosity.

The dull clack of boots on the floor drew nearer and nearer to the two of you but she was too stuck in her haze to care. If she were to die right now she would go out perfectly happy knowing that she was able to lay her eyes upon such an angelic sight before she left. Now that she thought about it she found herself idly wondering if she had in fact died and you were an angel sent to collect her and bring her up to heaven, your white wings cluing her in to what you were, or at least what you resembled to be. The sound of Fury’s voice pulled her out of her revere and she watched, speechless, as he wordlessly pressed a taser to your neck and gestured for some agents to drag your unconscious body away.

“Danvers can you hear me?” Fury’s question went unanswered as Carol watched your limp form drag against the cool tiled floor of the compound. Her head pulsed and spun with images of you stood above her and staring at her with those mysterious eyes filled with concern. Her mouth had been agape for so long that bits of drool collected in the corners and her eyes were half-lidded and glazed over. Her entire body felt numb and though she could hear Nick calling out her name the words flew right over her head.

Fury, on the other hand, grew worried. Carol continued to be unresponsive as she stared at the same spot that you were stood in just moments before, as if you were still there. He wondered if you had cast some freaky angel spell on her or if you had said something that got inside her head to make her remain in some sort of broken stupor. His heart was heavy when he remembered that this was exactly the same way that Carol had acted last year after the accident, silent and frozen and totally unresponsive. Nick slowly came to terms with the fact that you definitely were connected to last year’s events somehow and he vowed to do whatever it took to make you crack. He sighed to himself and collected Carol into his arms and carried her as if she were a sack of potatoes to the guest room where Maria was situated, just like he had done last year.

The blue lights of the police car flashing distractedly in the background went unnoticed by Carol as she stared, stock still, at the lifeless body of her girlfriend. She didn’t break into sobs or scream or do anything besides wordlessly stare at the once breathing body. Officers stood by uncomfortably as they looked on, unsure of what exactly to do. Upon arrival they recognized Carol as the new avenger, Captain Marvel, having seen her stern face plastered all throughout the media the past few days. They had tried calling out to her and one officer even went so far as to clasp a hand on the heroine’s shoulder, but all of their attempts went ignored. A crowd had formed behind the yellow and black caution tape and they too watched on in silence at Carol’s reaction. News vans screeched into the park, desperate to get a leg up on the other channels for a story on the newest avenger. Carol blinked every so often as she studied the body laying in front of her. Blood dribbled out of the corner of her mouth where Carol still saw her girlfriend’s last words on the tip of her tongue, “It’s okay.” Her once bright eyes gazed upwards, their life force was empty and blood seeped out onto the green blades of grass. The stab wound across her abdomen was a deep jagged bitch of a gash and Carol examined the torn fabric of the red-stained white shirt. The image burned persistently in her mind and she memorized the girl’s haunting features, knowing that she would never see them again. The blank expression on Carol’s face didn’t betray her inner thoughts one bit, a fact that she was thankful for later as she rewatched the scene on Maria’s flickering television screen, much to her friend’s dismay. She felt herself being slowly eased into the air and she was unsure who had lifted her, nor did she care. She still stared at her girlfriend’s body as she was carried further and further and further away.

“Rambeau, Carol found the angel girl thing and now she’s stuck in a trance.”

Maria sighed deeply and carded her fingers through her hair. “Set her on the bed. I’ll work on coaxing her out of it.”

Fury followed her directions and let his shoulders slump slightly in defeat. “I’m going to interrogate that girl and found out what her deal is. Let me know if you need any help.” Maria nodded her head in response as she pressed a warm cloth to a dazed out Carol’s forehead. With that Fury stomped towards the holding cell that he had his agents deposit you in and boy was he angry. You didn’t know who you were messing with, sure the wrinkles that were forming on his face made him seem old, but he still could and most certainly would, kick your ass straight back to heaven or wherever the hell you came from.

He glared at your unconscious form and broken wings through the clear glass of the holding cell. It was only hours later that you had finally woken up and blinked blearily as you took in your new surroundings. You were confused and you felt like you were being watched and oh- your eyes fell upon Fury glaring at you and you glared right back at him. You sneered, “You’ve tazed me twice for no reason asshole and now you’ve put me in a cage? What do you want from me?”

He remained stoic as he glared at you and barked out a question, “I want you to tell me what the hell you’re doing here. And while you’re at it explain your involvement in the events of last year.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and shifted your weight from foot to foot. “On two conditions.”

“You’re the one in a cell and you think you still have room to make demands?” His nostrils flared in annoyance and you rolled your eyes and sent him a tired look.

“Look, Nick. I’ll tell you what you need to know, but to a certain extent. I’ll explain it so that you can understand it but all parts that are my business stay my business. Also, you let me out of this cage and don’t taze me ever again.”

He considered your offer carefully, he didn’t trust you one bit but he recognized nothing but honesty in your voice. “You have yourself a deal. But I’m only going to let you out of the cage if I feel the information is sufficient enough.” You nodded stiffly and he nodded back. The terms were set and so you prepared for the explanation you were about to give, knowing full well that things could very well go sideways.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this part! Look out for Boom, Boom, Boom 2 and another Natasha request next. Love you all and welcome to everyone new! Feel free to have a scroll through the about viv tag if you want to learn more about me, Viv, the owner of this blog. Thanks a bunch for 200 buds :). Thanks, Viv :)

Permanent Tag List: @aesthetiff @autumnjackson4 @captainwonderwidow @5aftermidnight

Series Tag List: @vxidnik @envy-adamss @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @gigglygwil @worlds-in-words @justarandomhumanhere @letalexaplaydespacito

P.S. if you want to join the tag list crew give me a holler ‘cause your wish is ma command!! And if you can, please specify which one. Thanks frands :)

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel x reader #guardian angel series

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thinkingaboutrwby · 5 years

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RWBY Theory: Nicholas Schnee (Weiss’ grandfather) was an incarnation of Ozma

Feel free to disagree with me, but I have the sneaking suspicion that Nicholas Schnee, Weiss’ maternal grandfather and the founder of Schnee Dust Company may have been on of Ozma’s incarnations. I don’t have a lot of information to go off of, but from what I do know about Nicholas Schnee, there’s a good amount of compelling evidence to back up my theory.

Let’s start at the basics shall we? Who was Nicholas Schnee? Well the following information is paraphrased from The World of Remnant: The Schnee Dust Company so its all canon.

Nicholas Schnee was born right after the Great War in Remnant ended. He attended Atlas Academy, and using his own meager inheritance and knowledge he discovered new Dust mines in Atlas and founded the Schnee Dust Company. The Dust Company stabilized Atlas (formerly Mantle’s) economy, which had been damaged as Mantle’s natural resources had been depleted from war and over-consumption. Originally the Schnee Dust Company, was reputable and trustworthy (unlike it is in the present). Schnee personally ran mining expeditions, and workers rights were cared for. Working in the mines, however, caused Schnee some health issues. As a result, he died of health complications, and his son-in-law, (that buttface) Jacques Schnee managed to convice Nicholas to let him inherit the company.

So why was Ozma Jacques Schnee?

Well, logically, Jacques impact on the culture, military, and politics of Remnant seemed to REALLY support Ozma’s task for humanity and his personally added on goal of defeating Salem. The Schnee Dust Company, firstly, creates political and social peace. How? Well, Remnant’s Great War is vaguely reminiscent of World War I in the sense that it started as a relatively minor dispute (in our world the Serbian rebels assainating Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary, and for Remnant the conflict between Vale and Mantle over colonizing the Vytal Islands) and turning to a full scale global war. If we take that similarity and extend it to Remnant, Remnant should have had a World War I and a World War II to match, but why didn’t it? The answer is: Ozma. Canonicaly, we know he was involved in fair political peacemaking strategies as the King of Vale (Woodrow Wilson-ing things up in Remnant), but that fails to address other issues that could create conflict in the future. Economics is one of the main creators of conflict, and as a result of the war (as I mentioned earlier) Mantle had depleted its few resources. Finding the Schnee Dust Company strengthened political ties between Atlas and the rest of Remnant. Globalization is one of the best ways to maintain stability. So, the Schnee Dust Company united mankind. How else did it aid Ozma’s mission? Well, Dust is ancient magic left over from before the Gods left Remnant, and it aids fighting against Grimm. So, basically, he equipped hunters and huntresses across Remnant to better fight Grimm hence getting rid of Salem’s force and better protecting the relics in the Huntsmen Academies.

I admit this seems a bit loose. It COULD be a coincidence with just the above analysis, but there’s more canon information to analyze for this theory. In Volume 6 Chapter 3, we see some of Ozma’s incarnations as Jinn tells his story. The last one shown, the one who learns that he cannot defeat Salem. Here’s his picture:

So, to me he looks like a business man. Oz is rocking a stache, a suit and tie... Sure that’s pretty generic, but when we think of business-y people, who do we think of? The Schnee Dust Company. Additionally, we know this incarnation exists between the King of Vale and Ozpin. Why? Well, the relic appears to be locked up safe. The relic had to be pretty secure, which means it was likely in the school vault in Mistral (I’m willing to debate this point, however). The guy also looks like he could bare a family resemblance to Weiss. He’s got palish skin and light blue eyes, a traits of the Schnee family. Nicholas’ name also sort of fits the Oz name scheme as the “Oz” sound is present in the last syllable of Nicholas.

Additionally, Ozma’s realization of Salem’s immortality sits well with some logic about Nicholas Schnee’s characterization. At the end of his life, the businessman suffered from illness and made the poor decision to let Jacques succeed him in leading the company. Well, what if Nicholas wasn’t debilitated by illness but a crisis in hope? If Nicholas was an incarnation of Ozma, he would be stricken and extremely distracted by Jinn’s revelation about Salem. This could have Nicholas to act rashly. He could have overworked himself in the mines, falling ill, and with his mind on Salem, given Jacques control of the company.

(Edit: An issue with the point that the businessman is Ozma as Nicholas Schnee was brought up by harpo-groucho in the comments. Essentially, I forgot Ozma had all the relics as King of Vale. So, the business man probably isn’t Nicholas Schnee. However, this doesn’t necessarily mean Ozma wasn’t Nicholas Schnee, mainly that the incarnation we were shown wasn’t. Thank you harpo-groucho for the clarification!)

There’s also some evidence linking Ozma to Nicholas Schnee outside of the story of RWBY. It lies in who Nicholas is based on: Saint Nicholas - or Santa Claus as Santa Claus.

At the basis of the figure of Santa Claus or Saint Nicholas (it doesn’t matter which one), is the concept of gift giving. Santa Claus gives gifts to children. Nicholas Schnee gave the gift of dust tor Remnant. Ozma protects the Gods’ gifts and gave the maidens his own magical gifts. However. there are more uncanny connections to Ozma and Good Ol’ Saint Nicholas.

Saint Nicholas was actually a bishop in what is now modern day Turkey. In the Catholic Church, he is the patron saint of a bunch of things including sailors, merchants, archers, repentant thieves, children, brewers, pawnbrokers. He’s essentially a jack of all trades; he’s taken up a lot of roles, like Ozma. Saint Nicholas is also known to have performed many miracles, earning him the title “The Wonderworker” (the Wizard of Oz, or Ozpin is also regarded as “wonderful” in the movie). The most famous story about Saint Nicholas is of when he gifted three sisters with bags of gold as their family was poor and unable to pay their dowries. Ozma also gifted a group of four sisters canonically in the Story of the Four Maidens. As a bishop, Nicholas also carried a staff, kind of like Ozma’s staff or Ozpin’s cane.

I’m aware that this theory isn’t perfect. Like, why didn’t Weiss recognize her grandfather in Jinn’s vision. Well, I guess that can be explained as maybe she saw pictures of her grandfather when he was older or in paintings which could be unreliable. (Edit: marithlizard also mentioned that Ozma would consider Weiss as his grandaughter. I can see that argument, but I would like the point out that Ozma has been reincarnating for thousands of years and has probably learned to better move on from one life to another. He may have an internal struggle over considering Weiss his granddaughter, but this is Ozpin we’re talking about. He’s REALLY good at keeping stuff hidden. I guess Jinn would have brought it up when Ruby asked her question, but also I don’t think Ozpin was hellbent on hiding he was related to Weiss compared to the other things he was hiding like Salem, the relics, magic, etc. Thank you for your point though marithlizard! It was fun to think about!) This is a small flaw in the grander scheme of things, however. I for one, am pretty confident in this theory (80% sure). However, if it never gets discussed in RWBY I’ll just keep it as headcanon in my brain.

Bye! Please feel free to reply with your thoughts on this theory or reblog if you find this sufficiently interesting to debate about.

#rwby #rwby theory #weiss schnee #rwby ozpin #ozpin #rwby ozma #ozma #schnee dust company #rwby volume 6 #rwby volume 7

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sebeth · 6 years

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Crisis On Infinite Earths #2

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

We start at the dawn of man where Anthro, the first Cro-Magnon man, is attempting to divert a herd of woolly mammoths (“serpent-noses”) from trampling his village.

While diverting the herd, Anthro shudders over the thought of Embra, his pregnant wife, giving birth to a girl: “Embra would never have a daughter…would she?”

I’m rooting for Embra to give birth to a girl. Go, Embra, go!

Congratulating himself on saving the village: “A hero? I am, aren’t I? Maybe the biggest hero the bear tribe ever…” *Klunk* Anthro is taken out by a tree branch. “It was a long beast or a serpent! He hit me when I wasn’t looking! Face me now, animal! Anthro is a hero!” As Anthro makes threats to non-existent attackers he catches a glimpse of a futuristic city. Anthro notices the herd of woolly mammoths have disappeared.

I fell in love with Anthro here. He was such a lovable dork.

We move on to the 30th century where the Legion of Super-Heroes are searching for Dawnstar. They also have to contain a rampaging herd of woolly mammoths that disappear as soon as they appeared.

The Science Police tell the Legion to call Brainiac 5. The Legion calls Brainy. He informs his team that the missing Dawnstar and wooly mammoths are the least of their concerns: “There’s anti-matter energy moving toward the earth from somewhere I still can’t determine! Enough energy to destroy not only us but the universe!”

Back to present day Gotham City as Batman battles the Joker. The Joker has murdered Harold J. Standish III because he wanted ownership of the millionaire’s copyrights. The fight is interrupted by the Flash who is requesting aid: “…Help me! Help someone…anyone! Please…Please…can’t you see the world? I…It’s dying all around me! Iris…Dying…the world is dying…may already be dead…save us…save us…save us…”

An unnerved Joker orders Batman to inform the Flash that he has no jurisdiction in Gotham City. The Joker has a hissy when Batman doesn’t order Barry to leave: “You caped and corpses-to-come have some sort of secret reciprocal deal, don’t you?”

What’s this? A Batman that treats his fellow heroes with respect instead of acting like a territorial douchebag for no reason? Shocking!

Batman pleads with Barry: “Where are you, Flash? I can help rescue you.”

The Flash disintegrates as Batman watches in horror. The Joker escapes in the confusion, fanboying over Batman’s detective skills.

This section makes me miss editor’s notes. Batman thinks about the Flash’s recent disappearance - Bam! - Editor’s note refers to you to Flash #350 so you can check out that story if you wish. Little corner in the bottom of the panel - why is that so hard for modern comics to accomplish?

Picking up where we left at the end of last issue: The Monitor explains to his assembled team the reason for this gathering. “Already more than one thousand universes have died.” Seriously? It took the death of a thousand universes to get your butt in gear? I would have thought the death of one universe would have been sufficient.

The Monitor’s explains the process: “The Anti-Matter force once more shatters the dimensional barriers…expanding outward, engulfing one universe and then another. Destroying all life…and hope. First your worlds will feel nature’s wrath as your planets cry out in agony…Worlds in upheaval: Earthquakes, volcanic disturbances, floods which will crush your coast-line cities like so many twigs beneath your feet.”

Firestorm rightfully calls out the Monitor for selling weapons to various villains for the past year. I mean, that is a strange course for saving the universe. The Monitor appeared in various issues before the Crisis mini-series as a weapons dealer for the bad guys. It was foreshadowing for the Crisis series along with the red skies that appeared in various comics.

Harbinger angst: “I will stand at your side…Yet why do I feel as I do? A force, and energy…burning inside me?”. Probably because of the shadow thing that possessed one of your duplicates last issue.

Psimon steps up, talks trash, and is smacked down by the Monitor.

Superman, as elder statesman, tells everybody to calm down and listen - the fate of the multi-verse is at stake: “I suggest, however, we hear him out. If he’s telling the truth, we’ll save our worlds. If he’s lying, no power exists that can defeat us all.”

I miss sane elder statesmen who restore order as opposed to team leaders who let a situation escalate out of control while a cosmic level threat is bearing down on the planet. I’m looking at you A vs X’s Captain America, Cyclops, and Wolverine. Save the universe first, pissing contests later.

The Monitor reveals he’s splitting the group into five teams so they can activate his machines in five different time periods.

Harbinger continues to angst: “I am unable to resist him. And I am forced to obey his commands. Forgive me…though you have been my father and more…I now betray you.” Monitor, meanwhile, is aware of her betrayal and that she will be the cause of his death. Maybe they should consider talking to each other? Poor communication kills!

The Guardians of Oa are on the verge of completing (again) the Green Lantern Corps. However: “No, Guardians…It’s too late. You shall no more summon your soldiers than prove a threat to my plans. What began with you so many centuries ago…ends with you now!!!” *SKRAAAAAA!* Huge explosion and unconscious guardians. How many threats to the universe have the Guardians created at this point? We have the Manhunters, the voice holding the grudge, later on its Parallax. Maybe the Guardians should be neutered for the sake of the universe?

A shaken Batman summons Supeman (Earth-1) to discuss his vision of the Flash. Superman arrives late as had to deal with an unexpected volcanic eruption in the Mediterranean. Remember, the Monitor warned earlier that natural disasters were the first sign the Crisis was nearing your planet.

Pariah briefly appears to repeat his gloom and doom mantra.

Batman and Superman share a look that all but says “Do you know this emo freak?”

Bruce notes: “He said the earth was dying. That’s what Flash said. What’s going on here?”

On to Kamandi’s world. For those unfamiliar with Kamandi - think Planet of the Apes. Animals have become the sentient rulers and humans are hunted. Kamandi is investigating a huge tower that has suddenly materialized. Kamandi encounters Superman (Earth-2), King Solavar, and Dawnstar. Kamandi recognizes Superman as he has met Earth-1 Superman. Kamandi is initially fearful of Solovar due to the political situation of his planet. Shadow demon attack! Solovar is wounded defending Kamandi.

Harbinger apparently rescued the Luthor baby from the abandoned JLA headquarters. Lyla checks on him only to discovers he aged up to childhood.

Arion, Obsidian, and Psycho-Pirate travel to pre-sunken Atlantis circa 40,000 year in the past. We meet Lady Chian, Arion’s love interest. Pariah appears, Psycho-Pirate uses his abilities to make Pariah laugh. Pariah acts like it’s a fate worse than death. You would think after his eternal suffering emo act he would appreciate a few moments of levity.

Psycho-Pirate attacks the Atlanteans only to be stopped by Arion and Obsidian. Psycho-Pirate disappears in a flash of light. A mysterious voice tells the Pirate he will “serve me as I demand”.

The Monitor is frustrated by the disappearance of Psycho-Pirate: “My dear, I needed him more than either Obsidian or Arion. The menace we deal with is one of emotion”. Equally frustrating for the Monitor is his inability to find Raven: “I can find no trace of her. If she is on this earth, everything about her has been changed.”

I’m mentally trying to sync up the Teen Titans storylines with the Crisis. Teen Titans was one of my main titles in the 1980s but it has been over 20 years since Crisis on Infinite Earths. I know we’re past the Judas Contract and Donna’s wedding and pre-Starfire’s return to her planet. I can’t remember if the second battle with Trigon has occurred yet – the one where Raven becomes red and four-eyed and ensnares the Titans in their worst nightmares. It would explain the “changed” life if the Crisis is happening during or in the immediate aftermath of the Trigon battle.

Finally: “Lyla, my dear, get me the file on the new Dr. Light! It is time for me to create her!”

Pariah reveals more of his origin: “No, not from this earth, but another…the first that fell when this insanity began. But long after I was cursed for an evil act I had committed. A deed I have paid for a thousand times over, and must suffer still a thousand times more. I witness tragedy and my being here means disaster is soon to strike.” Pariah mentioned his “great sin” last issue too.

Pariah:

1) From the first universe to die in the Crisis. How long ago did the Crisis begin? The Monitor noted earlier that over one thousand universes have perished – has this taken months, years, decades?

2) Survived the Crisis but committed a horrendous act “long after”.

3) Someone very powerful cursed him to suffer for eternity.

Pariah finishes his “woe is me” speech by noting “Anti-matter will sweep throughout this universe. In a matter of hours from now, your earth will die!”

Arion, Obsidian, and the Atlanteans look to the sky and witness the arrival of the anti-matter wave.

Another awesome issue. George Perez’s art is gorgeous as usual. Marv Wolfman’s writing is terrific. He’s handling a huge cast of characters and nailing it. The big crossover events aren’t my thing, I find most to be average at best but Crisis is amazing.

The issue ends with the possessed Harbinger reporting to they mysterious man in black.

I continue to miss aspects from this era of comics: editor’s notes, sound effects, heroes working together instead of mindlessly brawling, c-list and obscure characters (my favorite type), and the sheer scope of the DC multiverse. Bonus points for the amount of content packed into a single issue.

#Crisis On Infinite Earths #Batman #Superman #Flash #Teen Titans #Anthro #Kamandi #Legion Of Super-Heroes #Bruce Wayne #Barry Allen #Clark Kent #Raven #Arion #Pariah #Guardians of the Universe

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jwood718 · 6 years

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Return to Montour No 4 Mine Site

Back in the spring, I “discovered” some photographs of a mine operation south of Pittsburgh - the Montour Number 4 (the search for the mine’s location is covered in the original post). The photos I was looking at, however, were taken in the winter, and my visit to the site was in June. So, figuring that I would be back in Pittsburgh at some point in the winter, I planned (as far as I plan anything) to return and see if I could “match” shots taken in 1942. Which I’ve now done.

Maybe the most striking of the 1942 images, taken by John Collier, Jr., was this one (below) showing a cable-car system hoisting waste rock up a hill, with a string of coal hoppers below, on Montour Rail Road trackage. In between is the tipple building (the larger structure to the left) and a powerhouse (smaller and closer to the cableway). {1}

Above: the Montour No 4 tipple site in 2018. Looking at these now, I’m not sure I was quite high enough after all. {2}

Today, the powerhouse still exists, but the rest of the site has been made-over, and of course the roads have been improved. Coal was mined in the region up until the early 1980s, but the Number 4 succumbed to flooding and was shuttered, while other sites continued for a few more years. The rail road kept going as long as there was business to be done, but with the seams getting mined out and the onset of “downsizing,” that need to pull coal died, and the Montour ceased operation completely in 1983.

Annotated view. {2} The siding tracks that passed under the tipple ran where the car park is now, below the main line.

In short order, the tracks were gone, the mine structures were gone, and (save for the powerhouse) little remained to indicate that coal was hauled up and hauled away. Interest in trail use was sufficient that in 1991 the then-two year old Montour Trail Council purchased the right-of-way. Other mine lands were also soon seen as viable for development.

Looking back up the hill over which the cable-cars ran. {2}

Remnants! Looking down as I clambered up, I found a couple curls of wire rope protruding from the ground. Seems likely they were left behind when the carway got disassembled. {2}

I got up there?! About there, I think. {2}

Standing at the base of the hill, I wondered if I might be able to find an approximate location to come near to Collier’s, and cast about for a few minutes as I considered the slope. “Where can I climb?” I spotted a likely avenue among the young trees, clambered up, picking my way from trunk to trunk, and twice saying “not quite” before I found myself maybe half-way up (as indicated above).

A wider view of the hill as seen from the Trail. {2}

On the way back to the street, I was maybe 30 yards from the guardrail (still among the trees and half-sliding down) when I heard “Sir?! Are you all right?!” I looked about and saw that a woman in her car, waiting at the stop sign, had asked after me. I suppose a tall man in a long coat and a fedora might cause someone to take notice as he fumbles down a woody hill. “I’m O.K.” I responded. “Crazy photographer!” The woman wished me well, and hoped I’d “got some good shots!” before she pulled away.

I got myself on down, plucked stickleburrs from my trousers, brushed off my coat, and went on my way.

Farther down the trackage, Collier took two shots of Hills, or Hills Junction, the nearby town that served the miners (above and below). {1} Today it’s called Lawrence, and I went along the Trail to where I hoped to find a similar view.

Coming 'round a bend and through a cut, I found a line of sight that was close to these images, but “not quite.” As I looked about, I wondered if Collier had stood at the crest of the hill when he took that longer shot; the view from the Trail appeared too close, and too low. But - the hill?! Again?!

I stared upwards, but shook my head. The hill above me resisted my thoughts of scrambling up as I had before. Still, I needed to achieve some measure of elevation off the Trail, and gripped and grabbed my way to where a large tree had afforded a slight platform where I could reasonably stand and take this shot (below).

Lawrence as seen from above the Trail. {2}

Maybe it’s “sour grapes,” but the trees are thicker now than 80 years ago, so I’m not sure that gaining an even higher elevation would have resulted in a better image. Maybe with better shoes, and some rope -- or maybe this is as good as it gets!

Winter scene along the Trail. There were quite a few places where groundwater seeps had emerged and frozen into icicles. {2}

In between (after I’d been up and down the first hillside), I found that other things were doing along the Trail. Sponsored by the Bower School House and T.A. Robinson Paving, the “Santa’s Train Off the Trail” event had tempted a fair number of the public to the site. Santa and Mrs. Claus, along with some elves, were hosting children for snacks and photographs in a caboose!

Children playing on the Trail as they wait for their turn with Santa. The caboose served as “Santa’s Train,” and though not original to the road, the car has been painted in Montour RR livery. {2}

The Robinsons (of the eponymous Paving company) own a goodly amount of the site off the Trail, where I had noted the rail road rolling stock and outdoor self-storage back in June. This day, they were hosting Santa, as Mrs. Robinson (who was directing foot traffic and chatting with friends) told me. I explained my interest in the place, and she invited me to climb the hill on the other side of the Trail to where one of the mine entrances still stood.

1953: an improved entry to the Number 4 above the Trail. {2}

No longer a mine shaft, beyond that locked door today a portion of the entrance serves as a wine shaft: Mr. Robinson got permission to use it as a cellar! Getting up to this spot was not so dramatic as there’s a roadway.

I also had a brief acquaintance with Gene Schaeffer, born, as he related it, ten “rail” miles away in Bethel Park. Living near active rail road operations, he took an early interest in railroading and the Montour, and spent several years taking photos of the road in operation in the 1970s, even as business was winding down. He also worked for the Montour during its last seven years, and to this day does his best to keep the history of the road alive. Many of the informational placards along the Trail feature his photographs.

He also asked if I would stand for a photo beside that caboose. Well, far be it from me to turn down a request like that!

Yep, that’s me: walking photo opportunity! Ha! {3}

I did take a turn in the saloon up “that hill” where the mine had once dumped its waste shale. Long since developed, I held out the briefest of hopes that there would be some place where I could turn off and get a shot down toward Lawrence - but “no dice.” The whole top of the hill is thick-set with houses along looping streets that don’t actually go anywhere except ‘round to the last one (if you’ve ever tried to navigate one of those neighborhoods you know whereof I speak).

In the vicinity of the Number 4, in 1942. {1}

Up on top of “that hill,” in 2018. {2} Much of the surrounding area looks similar to this today.

There’s even a golf course and country club, the Valleybrook, on the far side of the hill! And, after all that, I was off to other things - like coffee and doughnuts.

{1} Photos by John Collier, Jr., for the Office of War Information, 1942. (Minor processing by Jake Wood, 2018).

{2} Photos by R. Jake Wood, 2018.

{3} Photo by Gene P. Schaeffer, 2018. Thanks Gene!

Other posts concerning Pittsburgh and photographs taken for the Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information on Jake Ponders.

The photos that spurred these posts were found on the Library of Congress’ Prints and Photographs Online Catalog. Specifically, the collection of black and white negatives from the Farm Security/Office of War Information projects.

Google satellite image of the area (for the curious).

Winter scene along the Trail: Kamp’s Cut. {2}

#photography #Pittsburgh #Montour No 4 Mine #fsa/owi #our shots #library of congress #History!

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

Text

THE COURAGE OF Y

And this national standardization of wages was so pervasive that its effects could still be seen years after the war ended. So it's kind of misleading to ask whether you'll be at home in grad school, because very few people are quite at home in computer science. And when the Duplo economy was an evolutionary phase. Though in a sense it's bad news in that you're deprived of one of your most powerful weapons, I think it's exciting that gaming the system stops working when you start a company. When you only have one meeting a day with investors, somehow that one meeting will burn up your whole day.1 I tried to opt out of it, like music, or tea, but I think people who dwell on it are reading too much into it. You can't plan when you start a startup in college. The founders sometimes think they know.2 As little as $50k could pay for food and rent for the founders for a year. EBay didn't win by paying less for servers than their competitors. But most startups that die, die because they were living in the future.

Be a real student and not start a startup at 20 and you're sufficiently successful, you'll never get to do it was turn the sound into packets and ship it over the Internet. You'll probably be talking to several investors and you manage to get one over the threshold of saying yes, it will be better for the people who pay the most for it, is not the hope of getting a better one, and actually did.3 I don't expect that to change. And not just those in the corporate world, but in software you want to work on some very engaging project.4 One advantage of Y Combinator's early, broad focus is that we adjust to however things are, and this bit of the economy were either organized as government-backed cartels or dominated by a few oligopolistic corporations. When we launched Viaweb, it seemed laughable to VCs and e-commerce was all about. In particular, I don't think we'll ever reach the point where much of what they're responding to when they lose interest in a startup, or start a real startup. If it is, it will take to become profitable.5 This too seems a technique that should be generally applicable.

But if you were using the software for them. And one of the original nodes, but by making great products. Maybe if I think more about this I can come up with new ideas is not to try explicitly to, but to be an advantage. Vertically integrated companies literally dis-integrated because it was so rare for so long: that you could make your fortune. But they don't need to become the prisoner of your own expertise, but it can save you from an immediate threat.6 A couple million would let them get office space and hire some smart people they know from school. The place to look is where the line ends. Startup investors all know one another, and though they hate to admit it the biggest factor in their opinion of you is other investors' opinion of you is the opinion of other investors. Not just because of its prestige, but because the principles underlying the most dynamic part of the economy were either organized as government-backed cartels or dominated by a few, giant tree-structured organizations, it's now looking like the economy of the future will be a fluid network of smaller, independent units.7

Most people at the beginning of their career only works if everyone does it. Has it been net good or bad? Be conservative.8 They were the kind of thing is out there for anyone to see. At its best, starting a startup is to try.9 And this rule isn't just for the initial stages. My hypothesis is that all you have to worry about—not even Google.10 The more ambitious merely hoped to climb the same ladder faster. There was no Internet then. But I could be wrong.11 And I think that's precisely why people put it off for as long as they want to start it.12

Basically at 25 he started running as fast as I can type, then spend several weeks rewriting it. The amounts invested by different types of investors vary from five thousand dollars to fifty million, but the people who want to work that hard. An optimism shield has to be pierced too. It was a lot of ambivalence about them, because I tried to opt out of it, you can take your time developing an idea before turning it into a company. But the total volume of worry never decreases; if anything it increases.13 If you looked in the head of a 1950s auto executive, the attitude must have been: sure, give 'em whatever they ask for, so long as the new model isn't delayed. How would the government decide who's a startup investor.14 So any Web-based startup get spent on today? I don't mean, of course.15 That's why there are a lot of the serendipity out of his life.16

That was a social step no one with a college education would take if they could avoid it.17 Deals are dynamic; unless you're negotiating with someone unusually honest, there's not a single war millionaire would be permitted. Don't click on Back.18 There are two main things you can do, but assume the worst about machines and other people. That's not a recent trend; change has been accelerating since the paleolithic era. Icio. The eight men who left Shockley Semiconductor to found Fairchild Semiconductor, the original Silicon Valley startup, weren't even trying to start a startup.19 In the late nineties you could get paid huge sums of money for building the most trivial things. Even Microsoft probably couldn't manage 500 development projects in-house. Do not start a startup, you probably shouldn't do it. Even if you ultimately do the first deal, it will seem to you that you're unlucky. Technology tends to get dramatically cheaper, but living expenses don't.

When things go well you can take your time developing an idea before turning it into a company.20 That sort of thing you can learn more about this I can come up with good startup ideas is to take a step back. I've read that the same is true in the military—that the swaggering recruits are no more likely to discover new things, because great startup ideas tend to seem wrong. The second counterintuitive point is that it's a new messaging protocol, where you either have to spend a lot of subsidiary questions to be cleared up after the handshake, and if the other side senses weakness—if the idea's no good, for example, or the chronic ache of consulting. She assumed the problem was with her. If you work on overlooked problems, you're more likely to get money.21 Individualism has gone, never to return.

So future founders may not have to accept new CEOs if they don't and you stick around, people will pay attention to you, because odds are they'll have to deal with investors while the others keep the company moving forward—releasing new features, increasing traffic, doing deals, getting written about—those investor meetings are more likely to get money. So in a hundred years—or even twenty—are people still going to search for information using something like the current Google?22 And this national standardization of wages was so pervasive that its effects could still be seen years after the war ended.23 A good startup idea has to be treated as a threat to a company's survival. But if you had to change something, what would it be? Or more precisely, new protocols that take off are. Investors' power comes from money. The way to become an expert on startups, but as I explained before, this is not what you might think. He never did any more with his software than talk to his girlfriend, but this apparently verdant territory is one from which few startups emerge alive. Partly because the unions were monopolies.24 You can see why people invent gods to explain it.

Notes

And since everyone involved is so hard on the ability to solve are random, they have wings and start to shift back.

I'm clueless or being misleading by focusing so much to suggest that we know nothing about the right thing. This phenomenon is apparently even worse, they are within any given time I know of no counterexamples, though I think it's confusion or lack of movement between companies combined with self-interest explains much of a placeholder than an ordinary programmer would never guess she hates attention, because the publishers exert so much better is a scarce resource.

Probably just thirty, if the selection process looked for different things from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, because despite some progress in the first person to run spreadsheets on it, is caring what random people thought of them, but except for that reason. The best investors rarely care who else is investing, which in startups. There are some whose definition of property without affecting and probably especially those that made a Knight of the living. The point where it sometimes causes investors to founders with established reputations.

The Mac number is a rock imitating a butterfly that happened to get into that because a quiet contentment. One VC who read this essay, but in practice that doesn't exist. So whatever market you're in the sense that if you have two choices and one of them is that they've already made the decision.

But so far done a pretty mediocre job of suppressing the natural human inclination to say.

This technique wouldn't work for the same trick of enriching himself at the same time. San Francisco, LA, Boston, or Seattle, 4 in DC, 6 in Chicago, 8 in London, 13 in New York the center of gravity of the founders.

In many fields a year of focused work plus caring a lot of people mad, essentially by macroexpanding them. If you have to talk about humans being meant or designed to live in a spiral. A round VCs put two partners on your thesis.

The history of the more the aggregate is what you can often do better, because you could only get in the press or a funding round at valuation lower than the don't-be poets were mistaken to be spread out geographically. It might also be argued that kids who went to Europe. Similarly, don't make their money if they do. The second alone yields someone who's stubbornly inert.

The angels had convertible debt with a company doesn't have to make your fortune? Think it's too hard at fixing bugs—which is as straightforward as building a new airport.

What we call metaphysics Aristotle called first philosophy. But that is exactly the opposite: when we started Viaweb, if I could pick them, initially, to buy corporate bonds; a decade of inflation that left many public companies trading below the value of understanding vanity would decline more gradually.

You have to do as a naturalist. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, but one way in which multiple independent buildings are traditionally seen as temporary; there is some kind of work is not a programmer would find it was spontaneous.

When that happens.

That name got assigned to it because the broader your holdings, the underlying cause is usually some injustice that is more of a city's potential as a cold email startups.

The Wouldbegoods. All languages are equally powerful in the imprecise half.

This is one of the optimism Europeans consider distinctly American is simply that it would be enough to defend their interests in political and legal disputes.

I'm not trying to sell something bad can be either capped at a 30% lower valuation. Strictly speaking it's impossible to write it all at once, or b to get a definite plan to have, however, and yet managed to get frozen yogurt.

But not all of us in the absence of objective tests. Economically, the less educated ones usually reply with some axe the audience gets too big for the same, but that we know exactly what they're selling and how unbelievably annoying it is to imagine that there is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers. This includes mere conventions, like warehouses.

If anyone wants.

You could feel like a conversation reaches a certain threshold. 5% of Apple now January 2016 would be lost in friction.

I ordered a large pizza and found an open source project, but I took so long.

Did you just get kicked out for doing so much better that it makes sense to exclude outliers from some central tap. Life isn't an expression; how can I count you in?

Norton, 2012.

A significant component of piracy, which is the last thing you changed. Unless we mass produce social customs. Not one got an interview with Steve Wozniak started out by solving his own problems.

The kind of work into a significant cause, and large bribes by the Dutch baas, meaning master. Incidentally, I'm guessing the next Apple, maybe you don't think you need but a lot on how much effort on sales. The disadvantage of expanding a round on the scale that Google does.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #LA #day #anything #tests #naturalist #sound

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fmabigbang · 7 years

Text

Summaries for mobile, as the link doesn’t work:

Looking for ships?

Roy/Ed: #1, #2, #3, #6, #7, #14, #17, #19, #22, #23

Roy/Riza: #8, #9, #16, #20, #21

Al/Mei: #8, #12, #17, #21

Ed/Winry: #8, #12, #18

Al/Wrath: #18

Greed/Ling: #23

Havoc/Fuery: #23

Ling/Lan Fan: #8

Maes/Gracia: #4

Olivier/Roy: #5

Riza/Rebecca Catalina: #10

Russell Tringham/Belsio: #2

(Please note that only main/major ships are included in this list)

Fic #1: Dead Ringer

Summary: Love, as fleeting as it is sweet. After a single date, Roy Mustang is left with only funeral flowers and the memory of a guy who could have been The One. A few months later, he finds himself introduced to a friend of a friend who looks eerily familiar. Second chances come from unexpected places, he knows, but—Ed’s cousin?

Author: Xyriath Continuity: Modern Amestris AU Length: Roughly 20k Pairings: Roy/Ed, Ling/Lan Fan (background) Rating: T or E (depends on age of artist) Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Amestris, Alchemy, Hijinks, Humor, Lan Fan you had one job, A Comedy of Intrusive Thoughts Major warnings: No

Fic #2

Summary: Centuries after faery-kind disappeared from the planet—in part due to humanity’s fear and hatred of them—their part-human descendants continue to face discrimination, particularly in Amestris, where Lord Selim the Prideful has recently inherited his father’s power. Lord Selim wishes for a nation that adequately reflects his own greatness, and thus seeks to purge it of anything nonindicative of that, “halflings” included, starting with a widespread movement to identify and relocate them to designated areas throughout the country. John Belsio, a halfling farmer and hunter, wouldn’t be bothered, but Lord Selim chooses his extensive plot of land as one such relocation area for part-humans throughout Eastern Amestris. His precious privacy infringed upon, Belsio travels to Central City to confront Selim, who makes a deal with him: if Belsio completes a quest for him, Selim will gladly move the halflings elsewhere and leave Belsio in peace. With former politician and fugitive Roy Mustang at his side, whether he likes it or not, Belsio sets out to complete Selim’s task, which, between discovering a decades-long conspiracy and the burgeoning revolution, turns out to be more than he bargained for—and maybe exactly what he needed.

Author: geichang Continuity: total AU featuring characters from both versions Length: 40k ish. EXTREME emphasis on the ‘ish’ Pairings: Belsio/Russell Tringham, Roy/Edward (side) Rating: T (teen) Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Part-Human Characters, Fantastic Racism, Minor Character Focus, Autistic Protagonist, Friends to Lovers Major warnings: No

Fic #3

Summary: Roy Mustang was born, saved a kingdom and its prince, and died of old age, the love of his life by his side. And then he wakes, Edward nowhere in sight. By some twist of fate, Roy lives again. And again. And again. His existence, he finds, is part of a prophecy; a plan set out by the gods to combat that great evil he thought he had conquered all those years ago. Roy has decided he hates the gods. Not only can he have no rest, but neither can those he loves - Roy is haunted constantly by familiar faces, who no longer even know his name. So, Roy deigns to live a life of solitude - if he is to be forced to give his attachments up after every lifetime, then it would be better for him to never have attached himself in the first place. The gods, it seems, won’t even let him have that. With each life, that Great Evil twists and grows, finding new ways to wreak havoc across Hyrule, and it should be easy for Roy to lose himself in his duty - the thing the gods chose him to do. His life, however, is tied to Hyrule - particularly, its leader. When all attempts to push away one princely figure in particular fail spectacularly, Roy is dragged kicking and screaming into loving again, and with every life, with every goodbye followed be Edward’s unrecognizing eyes at their next meeting, Roy wonders how much of this he can take. (Legend of Zelda AU, with no prior knowledge of the source material needed whatsoever.)

Author: fishingclocks Continuity: Both Length: 30,000 Pairings: Roy/Ed Rating: T (teen) Tags: Legend of Zelda AU, Reincarnation, Romance, monster-killing at any and all ages, so i suppose child endangerment, incorporates nearly any zelda game you can think of, Angst, yet surprising amounts of fluff, and humor because my Roy is a snarky little loser, will you ever see anything nerdier?, the world will never know Major warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #4

Summary: When Maes Hughes’ body arrives into Central City Morgue, Dr. Knox and his assistant are shocked to find him barely alive inside the body bag. Working quickly, they manage to save him, only for Maes to awaken and nearly re-injure himself in his desperation to get vital information to Roy Mustang. Using a network of underground informants and smugglers, Maes manages to escape Amestris- but at what cost? And can he still manage to alert Roy to the plans of the people who tried to assassinate him? Follow along as Maes becomes one of the living dead and travels out of the country, to save himself- and all of Amestris- from whatever is making that giant transmutation circle.

Author: SonjaJade Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 34000 Pairings: Maes/Gracia, Maes/Roy (past), Roy/Riza (background), Ed/Winry (background) Rating: T (teen) Tags: Blood, surgical situations, disguises, hideouts, on the run, coded messages, Maes lives AU Major warnings: No

Fic #5

Summary: After an incident with a rogue alchemist, Roy and Olivier find themselves in a strange place and in need of a way back. Their misadventure will open the door to some of the greatest changes Amestris has seen in a long time.

Author: MaiKusakabe Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 40-50k Pairings: Roy/Olivier, Ed/Winry (background), pre-Al/Mei (background) Rating: E (explicit) Tags: (possible) explicit sexual content, crossover with Harry Potter, language Major warnings: No

Fic #6: The Devil in the Desert Sun

Summary: Roy Mustang is stuck in a rut. And by “a rut,” he explicitly means Cameron, the Eastern ghost town wherein he is investigating his latest story. After he is so rudely ousted from his job as Editor-In-Chief of the Central times on the Führer’s executive order, all he can do is hope to redeem himself to the public by solving a case that has eluded federal and local investigators for years. And so Roy hunts for the Alchemist, a serial killer with a habit of leaving things called “transmutation circles” on the bodies of their victims. When he makes the acquaintance of an activist with a missing best friend and a strange knack for the Alchemist’s own state-restricted secrets, Roy’s suspicions that the Amestrian Military has something to do with the murders are only furthered. Conspiratorial leanings aside, Roy has to get to the bottom of the truth before the case can upend the lives of the very people he’s trying so hard to protect. If only he were as good at keeping everyone safe as he was at starting wildfires.

Author: asonohara Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 40-50K Pairings: Roy/Ed Rating: E (explicit) Tags: violence, graphic descriptions of death/murder, mentions of past suicidal attempts/ideation, character death, prescription drug abuse, smut, bottom!roy, journalist!roy, activist!ed, modern au, alternate universe-canon divergence, modern brotherhood au Major warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #7: A Lesson in Distraction

Summary: His goals hadn’t, and would never be without trials. Mistakes had, and would be made; he was only human after all, but he had no intention of ever letting it stop him. Roy hadn’t done the things he had, come this far, to back out now or ever. No Alpha would cow him, no amount of gossip or derisive opinion would sway him. If a megalomaniacal pseudo God and his menagerie of unnatural ‘offspring’ hadn’t been enough to deter him, then nothing would. Roy Mustang would bow out only when he himself was ready to; when he’d deemed his goals accomplished sufficiently. Only then would he step back and let everything else fall where it may. And, so close to the top seat, the last thing he needed was a distraction. It was decidedly unfortunate that he neglected to take into account nature’s tendency to overrule the paltry decisions of man, and throw troublesome Elric’s at him. Alternatively: Roy gets blindsided by his biology, and Ed really isn’t helping.

Author: Fullmetalflame Continuity: Post Brotherhood Canon Length: Estimated at 25-30k (May exceed) Pairings: Roy/Ed, Riza/Sheska (background), Alphonse/Fuery (background) Rating: E (explicit) Tags: (Ooh boy) My entry for the 2k17 FMA big bang, Alpha/Beta/Omega, and everything that entails including, knotting, mpreg, it’s not overly graphic, but it is sort of a big thing though, post Brotherhood canon, coarse language, on account of Ed’s potty-mouth, Roy pov, Omega Roy Mustang, Alpha Edward Elric, NSFW, protective!Team Mustang, no angst, light hearted fic, I promise, Alphonse is a little shit, minor background relationships, slash, smut, lots of smut, pwp, porn with plot, Roy’s a strong proud Omega who don’t need no Alpha, but he’ll take Ed anyway, because he’s a dork, the author regrets nothing, what are tags, bonding, marking, smug Omega, seriously, strut your stuff Roy, Madame Christmas knows, seriously, she knows, what else, uh, that’s it I guess? Major warnings: No

Fic #8: Under the same roof

Summary: “This is bound to be a disaster!” Ed muttered under his breath, hoping that no one would hear him but just wanting to get it out of his system. He was setting the table for his guests: ‘and what guests!’ he thought ironically. Ten years have passed since the Promised Day, and many things have changed. Finally, the friends have time to reunite in Resembool and old stories are dug up, secrets are disclosed and hilarity ensues.

Author: ionica01 Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 75k Pairings: Ed/Winry, Roy/Riza, Ling/Lan Fan, Al/Mei Rating: T (teen) Tags: Fluff, Romance, Funny, Couples, Usual Ed-Roy Bickering, Embarrassing Stories, Politics, World-Building, Character Development, Visit (and Ed isn’t happy), Bonding Time, Families Major warnings: No

Fic #9

Summary: The Illumination is a phenomenon that makes the wounds people bear visible to all in a ray of light. It is completely harmless to human health aside from making one acknowledge it. It started on the third of October 1910 and everyone remembers it very well. Follow the story as Roy, Edward, Alphonse, and the rest of the team experience the illumination to see just how far some might go to douse the lights of another’s pain. Inspired by the Illumination by Kevin Brockmeier.

Author: Literatureworks Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 50,000 Pairings: Roy/Riza Rating: T (teen) Tags: illuminationAU, Everyday life, pain, Hurt/comfort, Parental, Just an all-around good feeling sappy story of everyday emotions and circumstances, stressbaking Major warnings: No

Fic #10

Summary: Riza Hawkeye knew that her father would die, but she never thought she’d miss him. She also didn’t anticipate his apprentice, a young man named Roy Mustang. And she never thought she’d take up the alchemy tattooed onto her back, but apparently life was full of surprises. Asking Mustang to mentor her, she begins her journey down the alchemic path. She becomes close, and eventually trusts him enough to see the tattoos on her back. Apparently that was all Roy wanted, and soon after seeing her at her most vulnerable, disappears. She finds him a week later in a motel, poring over her most guarded secret and forgetting that Riza even existed. Heartbroken, she decides to continue on her path, except now not content with just being Roy’s equal. She’ll surpass him now, she swears it. Apparently, others want the same for her, and help her along the way—but at what cost?

Author: Veilrony Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 55 000 words Pairings: Riza/Rebecca (main), Roy/Riza (main for 10 chapters, not “endgame”) Rating: T (teen) Tags: Unhealthy Royai, Alchemist!Riza, Fic Spans 10 Years Major warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #11: Consigned to Oblivion

Summary: Memory is powerful, but easy to fabricate. When Edward Elric has to choose between his brother’s life and his own, he decides to make a sacrifice far greater than he anticipated. The Gate waits for him, and with only a week to live the life he longed for, time is the greatest enemy of all.

Author: wrongnote Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 25k to 35k, most likely. (maybe longer) Pairings: Ed/Winry (background), Roy/Riza (background) Rating: T (teen) Tags: Parental Roy & Ed Major warnings: No

Fic #12

Summary: Edward enters the Far West, searching for new forms of alchemy. In the red dustbowl of the western lands, he meets with a man that many claims can perform miracles, but Edward’s past experiences with both Dr. Marcoh and Father Cornello told him he was going to find a Philosopher’s Stone behind these so-called “miracles”. During his meeting with Don Paco, Edward learns about magick: an ancient mystic art of Don Paco’s people. Edward takes a gamble when Don Paco offered him the possibility of restoring his Gate of Truth and thus restoring his ability to use alchemy. Little did he know that this “Miracle Man” had a hidden agenda, so on the morning after Don Paco performs the Ritual of Transcendence, the former State Alchemist finds himself trapped in the body of a cat. When all seemed lost, Edward finds an ally in Matilde, Don Paco’s wife. Thanks to Matilde, Edward learns that Don Paco had stolen his body and is heading to Resembool to find Winry. What he wants with the automail mechanic remains a mystery. Armed with the knowledge that the Ritual Transcendence can be reversed, Edward heads East to stop Don Paco and keep Winry from harm.

Author: hirstories Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 30,000+ Pairings: Ed/Winry, Al/Mei Rating: T (teen) Tags: Canon compliant AU, Canon relationships, Implied relationships, Multiple OCs, Humor, Supernatural, Adventure, Mild violence, Cursing Major warnings: No

Fic #13: sicut in caelo et in terra

Summary: A series of shorter stories set in a world where canon alchemists are not scientists, but deities: making up a Pantheon of gods and goddesses, with Truth and Hohenheim at their helm. The series details scenes along the boys’ journey to harnessing their inherited powers and locating their father, trying to restore balance to the world of deities and discovering what he left the Pantheon to do.

Author: miraculous-stardust Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: >15k Pairings: Roy/Riza (background), Maes/Gracia (background) - pairings exist but the fic is gen Rating: T (teen) Tags: fmabb 17, deity au, basically alchemists +homunculi and gracia are deities, a series of smaller fics bc this got out of hand, inspired by the fma prototype chapter and greek mythology Major warnings: No

Fic #14

Summary: If there is one universal truth, it is that Edward Elric will do anything for his little brother…right? Yet Al is sick and Ed refuses to consider magic as a possible cause or cure. With the best intentions, Al goes behind Ed’s back to pursue the possibility, requesting assistance from Detective Roy Mustang—the only State recognized civilian Mage. Roy reluctantly agrees, positive that doing so is about as smart as hugging a live grenade but curious because of, both the large disparity in mindsets of the brothers, and his rocky history with Ed. It predictably explodes in his face. Meanwhile, Roy has his hands full trying to protect those few magic users he’s able to track down within the confines of his profession from a world no one believes in (all the while assisting Al where he can and sidestepping explosive interactions with Ed). He finds himself missing patterns, falling a step behind when he should be a step ahead and his past catches him unaware. Despite Ed’s protests that magic is just a flashy form of alchemy, it exists and it’s coming for him in a very real way. And when handed a decision, Ed makes the worst possible one. Tldr: Everyone: Ed, no! Ed: Ed, FUCKIN’ yes!

Author: Catie-brie Continuity: AU that pulls from both Length: 40-50k-ish ?? Pairings: Roy/Ed (main) Ling/Lan Fan (background), Havoc/Breda/Rebecca (background), Ed/Ling (past), Roy/Kimblee (past) Can’t think of any others but ships kind of just happen when I write Rating: M (mature) Tags: Urban Fantasy AU, Modern!Amestris, with magic!, Dark, watch out for the fae, fae and faeries, '03 flavored ending, Ed will do stupid things to protect his brother, angst, enemies to lovers to friends to better lovers, UST, RST, unhealthy depictions of sex (magic), other depictions of sex, canon typical violence Major warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #15: Careful what you wish for

Summary: The homunculi each had a desire. Friends, family, love, and they got what they wanted. Just not in the way they would have wanted it. Envy has abusive relatives, lust falls in love with almost every man, greed has all the possessions he could want, but not in the prime of conditions. Edward and three others have to go into this world, similar to 03 but is brotherhood, and collect all the homunculi and take them back to truth, as to have their current lives, they took a piece of him each that has to be recovered. Warning, this story will be very trigger sensitive. It deals with abusive relatives, mental and physical disorders. It can be fairly gory and depressive at parts. If you are sensitive to any of those things. Please do not read.

Author: Homunculus101 Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 20k or above. Pairings: N/A Rating: T (teen) Tags: Mental disorder, physical disorders, gore, real life issues Major warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #16:

Summary: While people fear the monsters they’ve read in children’s stories or even see in movies, the real monsters within humans can be even more horrifying. How does Edward contend with what’s killing people all over the world? How does Roy contend with the monster that is slowly growing from the military? Everyone has a demon, a personal monster, how does humanity deal with a threat like that?

Author: YYLoverGirl1 Continuity: An AU inspired by Blassreiter while still keeping elements from Brotherhood Length: 15k+ Pairings: Roy/Riza Rating: T (teen) Tags: (none) Major warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #17: Bringing the Fight to You

Summary: Story so far:

Edward and Alphonse were born a few years earlier, so Edward is 21 at the beginning of this story. Edward never became a State Alchemist, instead, he and Alphonse train with Izumi Curtis and travel the world, learning as much as they can. Alphonse is now a doctor, and Edward has multiple PhDs in the fields of Alchemy and Languages, and is a professor at Central University. He also helps out at the hospital whenever he has spare time, using Alchehestry to increase people’s chances of survival until the doctors (and Alphonse) can get to them. They saved Maes Hughes, who set up Edward as Roy Mustang’s escort to a military ball.

Edward and Alphonse learn of the conspiracy involving the Promised Day.

This fic:

In order to prevent the scheme of the military high command to use all of Amestris to become immortal, Edward and Alphonse join forces with Mustang. They gather allies and prepare as best they can for the fight to come. Along the way, Roy and Ed have to hide their relationship, in order to tempt the senior staff into thinking they can gain Ed as an ally for their schemes. This doesn’t stop their romance from blooming, but many obstacles are put in their path. This is the story of how the Promised Day, and the year leading up to it, would have gone, had Edward stayed out of the military, and Hughes survived to tell the tale of a nationwide transmutation circle.

Author: caraakame Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 20k - 30k Pairings: Roy/Ed, Al/May, Greed/Ling (background) Rating: M (mature) Tags: AU, Angst, So much angst, some fluff, possible smut, Hughes survives, Doctor!Al, Professor!Ed, Alternate Timeline Major warnings: Major Character Death

Fic #18: Dante’s Divine Comedy

Summary: Edward Elric has never met the host of tonight’s dinner party. In fact the only thing he truly knows about them is that they are offering key information regarding the disappearance of his father. He would have never have come here with his fiancé otherwise. Upon arrival, Edward is surprised to see that there a quite a few familiar faces among the guests. Even more so when he realizes just how similar their motivations are for attending. Though the night quickly turns for the worst as more guests begin to disappear causing Edward to realize that some things are better left buried and forgotten.

Author: totallynotmyfanfiction Continuity: FMA 2003 Length: 20,000 (in the end) Pairings: Al/Wrath, Ed/Winry, Winry/Paninya (past), Dante/Hohenheim (background), Greed/Envy (background), Dante/Greed (background), Lust/Scar (background) Rating: T (teen) Tags: Murder Mystery, Human AU, Slightly Older Characters, Some Humor, Tragedy, Major warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #19

Summary: In a world where the Gate works on different principles, the price Ed pays for Al’s soul isn’t an arm, but his humanity. Turned into a strange and unnatural beast, he and Al run away, and end up settling in an old castle ruin. Hiding from sight, they spend years searching for a way to get their true bodies back. But then the military shows up, and Roy ends up as Ed’s “hostage”. Though it’s hard to tell who’s the more unwilling party. Well, at first, anyway.

Author: Spuri Continuity: AU (possible vague mention of some Brotherhood details) Length: 46000 Pairings: Roy/Ed Rating: M (mature) Tags: AU - Beauty and the Beast, fluff, crack, slight angst, mention of non-trans related dysphoria, (aka Ed is Beast and understandably has issues), Major warnings: No

Fic #20

Summary: He hates being reduced to the role of civilian – a convalescing civilian, even more. He hates the red tape that surrounds his recovery; hates that Riza still hasn’t come out of her coma like the doctors said she would.

The aftermath of the Promised Day isn’t pleasant for anybody involved.

Author: Tsaritsa Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 15k Pairings: Roy/Riza, Ed/Winry (background) Rating: T (teen) Tags: (none) Major warnings: No

Fic #21: The Wilderness

Summary: Amestris becomes a harrowingly silent place on the afternoon of the Promised Day and only the survivors at the center are left to tread over it. Within a few hours, they won’t be the only ones wandering.

Author: haganenobeato Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 25,000+ Pairings: Roy/Riza (main), Al/Mei, Ed/Winry (background) Rating: M (mature) Tags: Horror, Dark, Psychological distress, Zombies, Kinda gorey, Lots of things happen REAL QUICK, some light moments to help Major warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #22: Heathens

Summary: Central City has never been a quiet city. Sex and drugs—the currency of choice in the criminal underground—overflow in the streets leaving fear and unrest in its wake. Obsidian Inferno, the most exclusive club in Central, caters to an exclusive clientele with the most notorious playboy,Roy Mustang, on its throne. However when a recent string of murders and drug overdoses takes the city by storm, the evidence starts to point to the Inferno. Detective Edward Elric must go undercover to solve the case, but discovers that not everything is what it seems. As the pressure mounts, his discovery threatens to tear apart everything he loves.

Author: Stargazerlilith Continuity: AU with a mix of both worlds Length: 25,000 - 30,000 ish Pairings: Roy/Ed, Ed/Russell (past) Rating: E (explicit) Tags: Drug abuse, gang violence, alcohol abuse, possible kink, sexual content, graphic murders, Schizophrenic characters. Major warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Fic #23: Antebellum Innocence

Summary: The year is 1922, and New York City has never been more rife with drama, drugs, conflict, and crime. It’s a dangerous place for a couple of immigrants, but Ed and Al have always been good at toughing it out. However, dangers can lurk even in the most well-lit corners, and the shadows can hold some of the best friends they’ll ever meet.

Author: the-redheaded-potato Continuity: Brotherhood/Manga Length: 40k Pairings: Roy/Ed, Greed/Ling, Fuery/Havoc Rating: M (mature) Tags: aged-up character, mafia!au, mob boss Roy, trans Havoc, nb Breda, nb Envy, disability, officer Hughes, the homunculi are a rival gang, period-typical racism, tho I downsized it significantly, mentions of ableism Major warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

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secureshark6441-blog · 5 years

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03 | Risky Business

Untrained people generally extremely bad at assessing risks when it has a low probability of occurrence.

In hindsight to a low probability / high risk event, what should have been done differently?

Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) Outbreak 2003

Severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) is an acute viral respiratory syndrome caused by a novel coronavirus which is believed to have crossed the species barrier from animals to humans. A total of 8,098 people worldwide became sick and of those, 774 died. It was first recognised as a threat in March 2003 and eventually spread to 26 countered before it was contained in July 2003.

It was spread by close person-to-person contact via contact of infected bodily fluids on another’s mucous membranes. Examples of close contact includes sharing food, taking to someone within 3 feet, and touching someone directly. It does not however include activities like walking by a person or briefly sitting across a waiting room or office.

How did people react?

People started to take extra precautions in their day to day life such wearing surgical masks, regularly washing their hands, disinfecting surfaces regularly and immediately after contact with an infected individual. However, due to the high population density of Asia, people were often unable to distance themselves effectively from the infection, thus potentially being the main cause of the rapid spread of the virus. Some people moved away from the affected areas by flying overseas in hopes that they will not be affected by the virus.

How did the systems respond when the risk occurred?

Health organisations such as the WHO and CDC coordinated a series of training courses to affected areas to help in prevention and diagnosis of the SARS virus as well as also providing free equipment and methods that will aid in early detection of the virus. They also did extensive epidemiological and clinical investigation of the virus at all affected countries.

Collaborative projects have been formed focusing on development of a screening test for animals, animal susceptibility, and further testing of animals from markets. As such, protocols have been developed to prompt an appropriate epidemiological investigation should animal handlers begin appearing at hospitals with symptoms of SARS.

How should they have responded?

The outbreak was successfully contained in 4 months mainly due the unprecedented level of international collaboration and cooperation. After this outbreak, a report as been compiled by the WHO which provided information on steps to prevent future similar outbreaks as well as how to manage an outbreak once it occurs. They encouraged a more inclusive definition of the nature of the health sector, leading to greater collaboration with other government institutions, agencies, and NGOs as opposed to the tradition method on just relying on the Ministry of Health of the affected country.

Previously, laboratory preparedness has been a major concern as the northern hemisphere has approached the winter season with the prospects of increased influenza activity and other respiratory diseases, potentially leading to a significant increase in requests for diagnostic tests for the virus. This often resulted in a strong possibility of false-positive test results. Thus, better diagnostic tests have been created to help lower the possibilities of such incidents.

Overall I believe that the post outbreak steps WHO took is sufficient in answering this question as they put in a lot of resources and research on how to prevent such outbreaks. If they had these new protocols and implementations in place, the outbreak probably would’ve been contained in an even shorter amount of time. Even then, being able to contain the SARS outbreak in 4 months is an extremely difficult task.

References

Learning from SARS: Preparing for the Next Disease Outbreak

Health Line: SARS

CDC: Severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS)

WHO: SARS Risk Assessment

#Module 3 #Activities

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sunflowersensei-blog · 7 years

Photo

Here’s part 3 of this week’s monsterpost on Vampires and Slimes! Above is a portrait of Violet, the Duchess of Ghet, and the representative of the Slime monster race to the Court of Night.

Let’s get into it!

About Slimes:

-Slimes, in general, are a race of monsters whose bodies are made of a thick, viscous goop, high in magical density, with a singular core that acts as the brain or central processing center of the organism. They usually have eyes, nostrils, and antennae, which they use to detect liquid and motion nearby. Slimes are the most diverse race of monsters in the World of Dark and have no single habitat, instead being found everywhere in the World where there is an ample supply of liquid.

-Slimes of all types need liquid to survive, which they slurp into themselves through the semi-permeable membrane which makes up their skin. After they drink the liquid of their environment, they process it into the goo that makes up their bodies, by unknown means.

-Different environments make different types of Slimes, whose appearance, personality, intelligence, and level of magical potential depends on where they are found. Because of this, monsters generally differentiate Slimes by their color, which also informs the monster where that Slime may have come from.

-Unlike most other monsters, Slimes procreate asexually. When a Slime becomes sufficiently old and consumes enough liquid, they will split themselves into two blobs, with their core staying in one blob, leaving them unchanged. The leftover, coreless blob may have a chance of forming its own core, given enough time, and will be “born” a new Slime of the color of its parent. If the left-behind blob does not form a core, it will eventually dissolve, dry up, or be consumed by another Slime as food.

-Because of their asexual nature and amorphous body, Slimes have no preferred form or gender, instead choosing what they want to look like on a whim. This also allows them certain abilities unique to their physiology. Slimes can shape-shift into any form they desire, if their mass can accommodate it, and can alter the density of individual portions of their body at will, allowing for punishing physical attacks, crushing moves, and movements which can confuse or surprise an enemy. However, a Slime’s preferred method of dealing with prey is to consume their whole body, slurp out their bodily fluids through their various orifices, and leave the dry corpse behind.

-Slimes are also immune to physical attacks. Slicing, cutting, piercing, crushing, or bludgeoning all have no effect, since the Slime can reform through any damage their form might take. Slimes do have one weakness, though; their cores are very fragile. If a Slime’s core is destroyed, they will die. A slightly damaged core will result in imperfections in the Slime’s shape-shift ability and quirks in behavior until the core can eventually regenerate.

About Slime Cores:

-Slime cores are a naturally occurring form of “dimensional tesseract”, a potent magical object which contains within itself a small sub-universe, a pocket dimension, if you will. These pocket universes range in size from not much larger than the actual volume of the tesseract, to roughly the volume of a galaxy. With this internal space, Slimes can store their mana reserves and any excess goop that they aren't using to constitute their forms at the moment. This allows for older Slimes to contain massive amounts of mana and potential mass within a small body.

-Because of this unique trait, Slime cores are valuable commodities when found intact and are worth obscene amounts of money. Slime cores can be fused with mundane objects to create magical objects that have this “dimensional” quality, like bags which can hold a seemingly limitless amount of stuff, or rooms or tents which are larger on the inside than they are on the outside.

-As Slimes age, their cores become more and more complex in shape and increase in internal size. At their formation, cores start as donut-shaped lumps, then gain edges and greater geometry as the Slime grows older and consumes more liquids.

-Slimes don’t live forever. Their lifespan generally depends on the type of Slime, with some living for only a few years and others living for over a thousand years. When a Slime dies, its body will dry up and evaporate, leaving behind its precious core. Some adventurers make a nice profit by exploring near bodies of water, looking for cores left behind.

About Colors of Slimes:

-Green Slimes are found in swamps. They are typically quite shy and spend most of their time hiding in the bog. They are of average intelligence, though they are unable to speak.

-Blue Slimes are found in and around lakes and bodies of fresh water. They are more friendly and curious then the other Slimes, however they are also the least intelligent.

-Red Slimes are found near active volcanoes and deep in the lava tunnels of Ghennum, where they survive by consuming molten rock. They are the most aggressive of the Slimes, though they are known to speak, if only to threaten intruders with a broken language.

-Yellow Slimes used to be found on the sea floor, though the arrival of the Deep Ones and the poisoning of the Dark Sea has basically left them extinct in all habitats save for small saltwater lakes. Not much is known about their intelligence, though the Ondine reported to have seen them use tools and complex problem solving.

-White Slimes can sometimes form from dew on the Plains of Ugain, though they are very short-lived for some reason. Most Slime cores which are collected and sold are the remains of White Slimes.

About Black Slimes:

-Black Slimes are very special, being the most intelligent, longest-lived, and most magically adept. They hail from the ancient labyrinth of Ghet, an imposing stone structure filled with twisting corridors, deadly traps, and inhabited by dozens of different types of specially-evolved monster species, not seen anywhere outside the labyrinth. Not much is known about Ghet, its creation, or what is hidden within. Its existence predates written record and most who set out to explore it never return.

-Black Slimes are the longest lived of the Slimes, with the current Duchess of Ghet, Violet, being over 1500 years old, making her perhaps the oldest living monster. In addition to their lifespan, Black Slimes can consume liquid of any type and can even digest any solid matter into a liquid state, which they then drink. This makes finding food in the labyrinth easy as any left behind shields, weapons, armor, camping supplies, or even long-dead explorers can be turned into a satisfying meal for a lucky Black Slime.

-Though they are intelligent, they prefer to stay within the confines of the labyrinth, refusing to come out and integrate into modern monster society. When the first King of Night annexed Ghet, he entered, expecting to find some sentient monster to deliver his edict to. However, he only found apathetic Slimes unwilling to listen to his demands. The only Slime that listened to him was Violet, who insisted that she leave the labyrinth with the King to see the outside world.

About Violet:

-After the annexation of Ghet, Violet was made both Duke and Duchess of Ghet, since she was the only one to agree to leave. Though she is extremely old, she keeps a youthful, curious air about her, always wandering the castle, talking to different monsters and learning of the World at large.

-Violet, being a Slime, has no prescribed gender, though most have taken to describing her as feminine due to her preferred form. Since the concept of sex has no meaning to Slimes, Violet let others make up their minds on what to call her. What was once a somewhat perplexing topic of debate has become sort of an in-joke for members of the Court.

-Though she is a Duchess, her governed territory serves almost no governmental purpose, merely being a region that the Kingdom saw was easy to annex. Thus, she has no real duties and spends most of her time in conversation, at the Royal Libraries studying, or playing with the children of the members of the Court and overall doing whatever she pleases.

And that’s it for this time! Next time were doing Liches, so stay tuned!

Hope you enjoy!

#monsters #monster girl #slime girl #world of dark #zonder

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spicynbachili1 · 6 years

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Premature Evaluation: World War 3

Untimely Analysis is the weekly column during which we discover the wilds of early entry. This week, Fraser’s been conscripted into World Warfare three, a web based FPS that after once more pits east versus west. If nothing else it’s handy for map makers.

Developer: The Farm 51 Writer: The Farm 51

Launch: Out now! On: Home windows From: Steam and Humble For: £24, $28, €25

My first hour combating within the gray European battlefields of World Warfare three was not probably the most nice introduction I’ve ever needed to a web based shooter. The primary impediment was the loading display screen, which was fairly adamant about not letting me play. It took nearly 20 minutes to connect with the sport on the second try. Lastly over the primary hurdle, I used to be instantly directed to an in-progress match that my workforce was shedding spectacularly. Sadly for them, I wasn’t going to show the tide.

The display screen was violently shaking, there was shouting coming from each path and I’m fairly positive I noticed a tank. I used to be shot within the abdomen immediately. The remainder of the match went about in addition to may very well be anticipated given my utter confusion. I wandered round, following individuals I hoped knew what they have been doing. Then I died. 28 occasions. I killed one particular person, unintentionally. My solely comfort was that I may at the least blame the persistent and infrequently deadly stuttering that I used to be unable to get rid off. We misplaced, by the way.

World Warfare three is aggressively opaque, which makes me surprise if that is as a lot a consequence of its hardcore aspirations as it’s its early entry standing. It sometimes throws out some ideas, however that’s the extent of its steering. A tutorial, and even an introduction that isn’t only a common match absent any context, wouldn’t go amiss, however I’m actually holding out for some type of coaching mode. At the moment, there’s no place to become familiar with any facet of the sport, from its bewilderingly enormous listing of weapons to its ginormous city maps, with out delving into its single mode (one other is on the best way quickly). It’s a horrible place to study.

The fundamentals are a lot the identical as they’re in Battlefield, notably Battlefield four. Two groups, break up into smaller squads, duke it out over a big map and a collection of targets. The construction is simple, however the nuances of the gunplay and the extraordinarily difficult maps are a lot tougher to become familiar with, and it simply isn’t a whole lot of enjoyable making an attempt to study the sport’s ins and outs when the teachings preserve being minimize brief by bullets. And there are a whole lot of ins and outs. Making an attempt to determine how armour works or what bullets you have to use while you’ve spawned proper beneath an artillery strike is, not surprisingly, fairly difficult.

I’m now not fairly as misplaced, however World Warfare three and I are nonetheless strangers. It doesn’t actually talk what it is rather nicely, both explicitly or via the painfully generic navy shooter setting. There are the broad similarities to Battlefield four, however there are some sim parts that evoke Arma three and close-quarters firefights that recall to mind the likes of Insurgency. It looks like its making an attempt to be a large, explosive shooter the place the battles are unfold out all throughout the map, but in addition this tight, tactical recreation of infiltrations and teamwork.

There are occasions the place it briefly coalesces, and it’s nice. I discovered myself making a very lengthy journey with one squad. We began by making daring sprints throughout a pockmarked wasteland, diving into waterlogged craters each time we heard gunfire, everybody transferring in unison. At one level we acquired trapped in an enormous crater by a sniper. We needed to bait them, risking one of many squad, which might have been significantly simpler if this team-based recreation had voice chat. We acquired out of that mess with just one particular person injured. An artillery strike additionally slowed us down, however fortunately we averted the worst of it. Ultimately, we left the terrifying openness of the outside for the claustrophobic stress of a small shopping center that we cleared inch by inch. Our goal, a store, turned a brief base.

Somebody dropped a primary assist bag, I dumped some ammo behind a counter. I’d solely simply realised I may do this. We had view of the mall and many cowl. The assault kicked off a second later. Smoke grenades got here via the entrance of the shop, shortly adopted by a hail of gunfire and cursing. Certainly one of them tried to rise up the steps behind us, however we had somebody hidden behind some packing containers, ready for them. A number of extra minutes of that and we pulled out of the shopping center – one other goal wanted reinforcements. We slunk via the corridors like seasoned infiltrators, not turning a single nook until we knew precisely what was ready for us, proper till we acquired to the exit. We hadn’t counted on the tank. The squad scattered or died.

That type of structured, cohesive expertise is uncommon. The dearth of voice chat signifies that no person communicates, past swearing at one another in textual content, whereas the absence of path and the massive dimension of the maps signifies that most individuals type of simply run round between targets, principally simply making an attempt to play Battlefield. The fleeting nature of lives definitely helps that playstyle – demise comes simply however is type of meaningless. Matches are wars of attrition, with each side flinging troops at targets, however as a substitute of manpower getting worn down, it’s my will to maintain taking part in.

Fights drag on and are undoubtedly much less attention-grabbing for his or her lack of Battlefield’s illusory dynamism. There aren’t any occasions or map evolutions past the targets altering fingers. These maps don’t inform a narrative, and the battles that play out in them aren’t very coherent. Even in a style not precisely famed for is charismatic video games, World Warfare three could be very gray, in tone in addition to aesthetic.

The place it excels are the weapons. Gosh, they’re corkers. First off, all of them can be found immediately. No levelling up, no buying – simply bounce in and begin making a loadout. That is simpler stated than finished, in fact, and the gun particulars don’t paint a transparent image, so count on to play various rounds earlier than you discover one thing that fits you. They’re all extraordinarily customisable, too. I’ve been working round with a G38 that I’ve upgraded with two totally different optics: a scope on the highest and iron sights at an angle, letting me shortly swap between close-quarters and ranged modes. You may slap lasers, torches, scopes and many aesthetic bells and whistles, too, so you’ve gotten a chunk of equipment that’s distinctly yours. You may even pull it aside and gawk at every particular person part.

They’ve acquired some kick. I nonetheless preserve having to remind myself concerning the recoil. There are methods to compensate, however it’s fairly dramatic, regardless. Every gun feels distinct, although, and much more totally different when you’ve slapped on extras and weighed it down. They really feel like difficult, delicate machines relatively than simply an extension of your character. With that in thoughts, I additionally like to hold round an RPG-7, guaranteeing at the least some kills and wee explosions even when I’m a horrible marksman.

With the RPG and the customized G38, I used to be a bit slowed down. There aren’t standard lessons in World Warfare three, however there are weight lessons. I used to be heavy, and it meant I wasn’t going to be fairly as spry. This was an issue in a recreation that prizes pace. I needed to make a sacrifice, however I couldn’t surrender my beloved RPG. The armour needed to go. I used to be capable of swap it out for one thing lighter and fewer sturdy, however truthfully, I haven’t observed. I get shot within the abdomen so much, regardless, which at all times appears to kill me. I die whether or not I’m encased in metal or not, whereas working away shortly has saved my life loads of occasions.

It’s undoubtedly gun porn, which I’m by no means actually positive about, however it’s additionally the one a part of the sport that made it price powering via the stuttering and numerous spawn deaths. World Warfare three does this one crucial factor extraordinarily nicely, for probably the most half, however every little thing else wants an excessive amount of work. It’s exhausting to even predict its potential as a result of it doesn’t have a transparent id but. The starvation for gray navy shooters can by no means be sated, so it’s already standard sufficient so that you simply received’t wrestle to discover a match should you can join, however I like to recommend holding off for now.

from SpicyNBAChili.com http://spicymoviechili.spicynbachili.com/premature-evaluation-world-war-3/

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supernaturally-writing · 8 years

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The Love of an Angel

A/N: Lol what even is this title?? Idk man. But anyway. So this is that spontaneous fic I made a PSA about earlier. As I was writing it, I realized I wasn’t really doing my sad idea justice, because it just didn’t seem sad enough to me, but that might be because I was writing it idk. I hope it’s sufficiently angsty. Be warned: it kinda jumps around a little bit. There are sections of the story missing, or not given in a lot of detail. Italics are past memories.

P.S: It is 3:18 AM and I am very very sleepy so pardon my shitty writing and grammar inconsistencies/mistakes.

Word Count: 4856

Warnings: ANGST. So much angst. Brief mentions of smut; not very detailed. Character death. Depression, depressed Cas, Human!Cas. A little bit of fluff towards the end, but not much??? Cas-centric fic.

Summery: Their love has been years in the making, but [y/n]’s abrupt demise spells out a rough going for Castiel. Being newly human doesn’t help the situation as the (ex)angel strikes out on his own and suffers in his own self-imposed isolation as he tries to live with these mortal emotions, determined to avenge the only woman he’s ever loved.

Masterlist

When Castiel rushed to the bottom of the Bunker stairs to welcome the Winchester gang back from their extensive hunt (as he’d always done), he’d never expected to find one of their party mysteriously missing. He also hadn’t expected Dean’s eyes to be red-rimmed, or for Sam’s arm to be in a makeshift sling, or for both Winchesters to be covered in blood and mud and ripped clothes. Sam had only made it halfway down the creaking staircase before he collapsed in on himself, sinking to the metal steps as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Dean sank down with him, tears swimming in his own eyes, and gingerly pulled his baby brother into his arms. By then, Cas knew. He knew that [y/n] was dead. Some part of him had known since the moment the brothers had stepped foot in the Bunker-- but now the knowledge settled in his gut like a boulder.

He’d only been human for a month and a half-- it hadn’t been nearly enough time for [y/n] to teach him how to cope with all of his new emotions. Especially heartbreak.

When he finally sucked in a breath, the pain hit him full-force, like a bunch to the belly and a kick to the sternum all in one. His throat burned as it constricted, cutting his airway until he was gaping like a fish, his legs trembling under the monumental weight of his own leaden frame. He only made it to the nearest chair just in time for his knees to give out; he didn’t even sit on the cushion properly. Just nestled his face into the cushion of the arm as his hipbone throbbed with the awkward positioning of his crumpled stature.

His eyes burned, the cool tracks of his tears doing nothing to soothe the pain of his heated skin. He was sure he was going to throw up; the sensation was foreign, but this new instinct told him to wrench himself out of the chair just in time to throw up on the floor. [Y/n] was dead. His [y/n] was dead and the Winchesters hadn’t been able to bring her back. . . And if they couldn’t bring her back, then she was really, truly gone. The brothers had mastered the art of giving Death a raincheck.

Cas wiped his mouth and pushed himself onto wobbling feet, balancing himself against the nearest object-- which happened to be Dean. Cas pulled away from the hunter, shame coloring his cheeks, before he looked into his face a saw a reflection of his own sorrow there. Before he knew what he was doing, Castiel crashed into Dean and buried his head in his shoulder, great sobs wracking him, replacing the previously silent tears.

When the three of them finally composed themselves enough to mop up Castiel’s mess and officially address the scattering of wounds on the brothers, each of them sat in thick silence in the library. Sam stared into nothing, unblinking; sometimes, Cas would see the muscle in his jaw feather to the surface, but other than that minute movement, Sam had gone deathly still. Dean scratched at the mahogany surface of the table, his eyes rolling behind his eyelids as he relived whatever had happened. . .

Cas’ heart wrenched for the millionth time that afternoon as he suddenly realized that he didn’t know how she died. He didn’t know anything about her last moments-- and he hadn’t been there to see it, to save her. It was ten quick heartbeats before he could breath again and peal his hands off the armrests of the chair, where he’d squeezed the blood out of his fingers and broken his shorts nails down to the bloody beds.

“How did she--” Castiel began, his voice rough and gravely, the sound screeching in his own ears and scratching his own throat.

“Demon. Simple salt ‘n burn turned into a chase when a local black eyes caught wind of us in town. We uh-- we weren’t. . . We didn’t see it comin’.” There was a long pause as Dean finally tipped his head back and opened his eyes-- admitting the flood of fresh tears. He scrubbed his hand down his face, sniffing loudly. “Damn thing brought a whole party. She fought. . . She fought so damn hard, Cas. Even after-- even after she went down. . .” He couldn’t finish the thought; Cas didn’t press him for details. He didn’t want to imagine it. Didn’t want to picture his human covered in her own gore-- didn’t want to picture the life leaving her eyes.

He closed his own to fight off the image. It didn’t work.

“Did you kill it?” The words raked at Castiel’s raw throat, no more than a whisper in the air, hard to hear even in the stifling, pressing silence of their melancholy. He was afraid that if he spoke too loudly, he would break. Really, truly shatter; the only thing holding him together was the grip he resumed on the cold, unforgiving wood of the armrests below. Silence ensued, and rage suddenly filled him, bubbling up from his toes and swirling in his guts like lava, until he sprang to his feet so abruptly the chair clashed against the concrete floor. “Did you kill it?” He was yelling now, his arms trembling as he slammed his palms down onto the table. Dean just stared at him, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Something had died in his eyes, but right then, Cas could only think about all the things dying within himself.

“No,” Sam finally whispered. “No, it smoked out before we could get to it.”

That rage rippled into Cas’ arms, fueling him with a violent energy; he swung blindly, fist colliding with the nearest lamp. Sam flinched with surprise with it shattered against the opposite wall.

Before his brain caught up to his legs, Castiel was stomping down the corridors of the bunker, his footsteps harsh booms of sound all the way into his room.

Cas sat on the edge of the motel bed, fingering the hole in his jeans. He rolled the information Dean had given him around in his mind, his teeth dragging along his tongue as he chewed on the muscle. Hunger gnawed at him but he ignored the growling of his belly for favor of flicking through the television news feeds.

He hadn’t been able to stay in the Bunker. He hadn’t been able to pass [y/n]’s room every time he walked down the hall. Hadn’t been able to look at her little idiosyncrasies that she’s left scattered about-- little quirks that would go untouched for some time as the boys adjusted to a life without the woman they’d practically grown up with. Some things were small, nearly unnoticeable: an arrangement of cups in the cupboard, assorted by color and height, the towels hung neatly, folded three times each, the books scattered around her room in perfectly arranged chaos. He hadn’t been able to deal with the stutters of his heart every time he caught a whiff of the automatic air freshener she’d plugged into the wall outlet of her room. It smelled of vanilla and honey-- a gentle smell, not so overpowering that it burned the nose, just sweet enough to make him breath deep and slow and savor the scent of it floating through the halls.

So he left. He packed his things the following evening, hastily shoving the few belongings he’d accumulated into the borrowed duffle bag he’d taken from Dean: his angel blade, a few pairs of thin, ripped jeans, and the flannels he’d been given. The bag was depressingly light when he hefted it onto his shoulder.

Dean had asked him to be safe, had told him that he couldn’t stand to lose another friend-- not so soon after losing [y/n]. But Castiel could only look at him and clench his jaw. Whatever promises he made Dean would have been a lie, save for one thing: “I will find that demon, Dean. And I will kill it, even if it means the end of my own meager mortal life.” There was a long silence, and some small part of Cas had thought that Dean might try to make him stay. But he hadn’t. He’d only shaken his head and scrubbed his drawn face with shaking hands before he finally told Cas everything he knew-- which wasn’t much. The majority of this hunt would rely solely on Cas’ ingenuity and familiarity with the demonic ranks. It had been so long since he’d accessed certain memories, and trying to do so while a human had given him a migraine that lasted for the entirety of the drive from the Bunker to the grimy motel in southern Tennessee.

That night had been the first night he dreamed of nothing; he was too exhausted to think, even while unconscious.

As the days wore on, Cas drew closer to finding answers, though through no small amount of effort. Most nights he only caught an hour or two of sleep, the rest of his waking moments spent bent over a table, or maps, or flicking through the news or scrolling through the internet. He tracked demonic movement; hunted them, killed them, even has his strength and stamina dwindled. Over the weeks, he’d hardly eaten; he’d fallen back into the angelic routine of never needing to eat, even though his mortality demanded sustenance. It was a rare occurrence when he finally pulled himself away from his work to order takeout.

When he looked in the mirror, Cas couldn’t see the man-- or angel-- he had been. His cheeks were hollowed, and there was a constant shadow over his eyes, bruises lining the puffy skin beneath the dull blue orbs. His hair was shaggy, curling around his ears and at his temples; he’d accumulated a number of new scars. Some of them were purely accidental-- others. . . Well, sometimes he’d flirted with Death just a little too blatantly, and those lingering considerations had nearly cost him his life and his mission on a few close-call hunts. Most nights he was glad Jimmy had been evicted; he was sure the original owner of this vessel would have been outraged to find Castiel abusing it so thoroughly. . . Other nights he wished he could still talk to the man. Perhaps Jimmy would know what to do, how to help. And even if he didn’t, having him around would have at least been some sort of company to break the monotony of hunting solo.

As the months wore on, Cas found himself thinking more and more about [y/n]. The first few weeks, he hadn’t known how to handle the crushing weight of her death, so he’d blocked her from his mind. Even in his dreams, he’d continued to have the regular nightmares that originally drove him into [y/n]’s sleepy arms: fighting through Hell with a struggling Dean Winchester trapped securely against his chest; fighting past the influence of Michael and Lucifer as he broke into the Cage to drag out a soulless Sam Winchester; fighting for the control of his own body as Leviathans ripped the power out of his hands. There were so many things that haunted him still; perhaps his brain had not yet processed his lover’s death to the capacity that his heart had.

Now, though, he allowed memories to trickle into the forefront of his consciousness: the first time he’d met a spunky young huntress that had punched Lucifer in the face and lived to tell about it; helping the Winchesters break her out of a county jail for car theft; sitting across the booth from her as she nursed a cup of coffee and a horrid hangover. Sometimes he would wake up with the whispers of her voice ringing in his ears, even as the dreams of her evaded his sleepy memory. Other times he would lay awake late into the night, even after a long day of fighting and tracking, and struggle to remember the details of her face, or how her skin felt under his hands, or the smell of her shampoo when he snuggled up behind her after she’d taken a shower. Those were the nights that the tears rolled quietly and wetted the pillow on either sides of his head; those were the nights that he wouldn’t dream, and he would awaken feeling twice as tired as he had the day previous.

Dean called often, but Cas rarely answered. It was only when Dean’s calls became persistent that he finally picked up the phone; Dean would always curse him for scaring him like that, then tentatively ask how he was doing. He tried to answer the hunter truthfully, but it was usually easier just to give him a short, gruff answer and hang up the phone. He would immediately return to his work, slowly but surely digging up the secrets of the Underworld as he looked for a cockroach among the colony.

Castiel had never expected to feel the power of his grace returning to his veins. Well, not his grace, per se, but grace nevertheless. When he’d been captured by vengeful fallen angels, he’d fully expected to be killed-- hell, he’d practically submitted, ready to embrace Death with open arms. But the lingering thought of his mission had spurred him on, and before he’d comprehended the result of his actions, he’d killed an angel and stolen their grace. The power was startling; it coursed through him, searing hot as it healed him and restored him to his former immortal vitality. It had taken him another day to adjust to being an angel again-- he stopped eating, resisting the habit of consumption. But he also stopped feeling. At least in the capacity that humans felt. He still felt that pain, that emptiness. He wasn’t sure if there was anything in the universe short of a miracle straight from his Father himself that would totally erase the ache that resounded within him. But at least it wasn’t crushing. . .

Being an angel again allowed him to truly marvel at the resilience of humanity for the first time. It was human instinct to trudge on, to make the best of the worst situation, to always keep fighting no matter the odds. Where the angel in him would have given up on this farfetched quest, his human heart had whispered to him with every heavy thump: revenge, revenge, revenge.

With this newfound-- and dwindling-- strength, Castiel made it a point to work all the harder towards his goal. Within a fortnight, the angel had tracked down one of the demons that had assisted in the killing of his human. The following night, Castiel knelt above the lifeless corpse of that black-eyed bitch with the answers he had sought after for so long.

[Y/n] sat up as her bedroom door creaked open. Castiel stood in the doorway, looking disheveled and out of place as the hall light outlined him in a halo of dim golden illumination. He’d been human for a week or so now, and every night she’d been able to hear him struggling in his sleep from the room over. He’d cried, groaned, whimpered and thrashed his way through the night. Oftentimes, it kept her awake, too; she’d finally pulled him aside and told him to join her the next time a nightmare roused him from his sleep. He’d given her a sheepish smile and tipped his head to the floor, color lining the arches of his cheekbones. She’d laughed off his embarrassment with a peck to the scruffy surface of his cheek.

Now, though, her heart thundered behind her sternum as he quietly padded further into the room. The door swung most of the way closed, though it didn’t latch, leaving a sliver of golden light slanting across the wall. It was just enough light to see by, and soon enough Castiel was crawling into bed with her, though he’d insisted he lay atop the coverlets as to keep her comfortable. After a hushed argument and a soft huff, Cas finally submitted to her persistence and slid under the comforter. His bare legs brushed hers, and he quickly apologize before she shushed him and pulled him close.

He’d fallen asleep with his head resting above her heart, her fingers combing through the short dark tresses atop his cranium. With her by his side, he’d rested peacefully for the first time in his mortal life; after that night, their sleeping habits had become routine.

Until. . . Until she’d stumbled into the bunker, battered and bruised but smiling her shit-eating grin nevertheless, boasting of a good hunt and searching for a good drink. That night, when she eased her aching body into bed, Cas had been the one to pull her close, and when she turned her head to give him their nightly peck on the cheek, his lips had slanted against her own. It was hard and demanding, and his lips trembled against her’s. He cupped her tender face with his hands, his thumbs brushing her jawline, tracing over the black and blue bruise that feathered out there. When he finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead against hers; they breathed each other in, sharing the air between them one gulp at a time.

“My [y/n]. . . My [y/n]. . .” He repeated her name over and over, a gentle, whispered supplication. She relaxed into his hold, her hands wandering down his sides as she tried to soothe the anxiety out of him. “I am alien to this world of human emotion, but--” he’d taken her hand in his and placed it over his racing heart, shivering with her touch-- “if this is love, then I am plunging further and further into this sea of affection; drowning in it, really.” He released a breathy laugh at that, and [y/n] twisted her hand until their fingers were clasped, locked together as Castiel clung to her. “Please, please. . . Don’t scare me like that anymore. I don’t think I could live if. . . If--”

“I’m here,” she murmured, cutting him off with a gentle kiss. With her free hand, she cupped his cheek and brushed her thumb over his cheekbone; she’d blown out a breath of surprise to discover the wet trail of tears there. “I’m here, Cas. I’m okay. I’ll always be okay; I’ve got an angel by my side.” He’d started to protest at that, making it a point to inform her he wasn’t an angel anymore-- but she already knew that. Still, she kissed away his words, and that was the first night they made love.

It was long and slow; wandering hands and searching eyes and wet trails of saliva as they both marked each other with lover’s bruises and gentle kisses of adoration. Not once had [y/n] been able to tell him she loved him, too afraid that those three words would somehow shatter this perfect existence. Cas, on the other hand, had growled it against her throat, against her bare breasts, had chanted it as they reached their ends and fell into each other’s weight. They kissed each other to sleep; when Cas jerked awake later that night, [y/n] rolled over and rode him until they were exhausted again, her head falling against his chest as he buried his face in the silky tresses of her hair.

For the following weeks, they fell into bed and into each other’s arms. There’d hardly been a room in the Bunker that they hadn’t christened: the kitchen, the library, the shower room, the garage, the war room, a few of the dusty storerooms in the uninhabited wings of the bunker. Sometimes their couplings were slow and sweet-- usually after a hunt, when [y/n] would come home to a worried Castiel, even though she was usually right as rain. Other times they were fast and rough; demanding mouths and groping hands and pounding hips as lips laid claim(s) to miles of scarred skin.

It was the night before she was to leave with the Winchester brothers to accompany them on a simple salt and burn when she finally told Castiel she loved him. He’d just finished his journey kissing the scars from her ankles all the way up to her fingertips. When she finally blew out the breath that carried those three soft words, he’d paused and lifted his weight off of her, staring at her long and hard with parted lips and watering eyes. She’d said it again, with a little more volume this time, conviction making her heart swell. By the fourth time she’d said it, her fingers carding through his hair, he’d cut her off with a clash of his lips. The kiss was so hard and so abrupt that their teeth clacked together, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the dull tooth ache that ensued. They sank into each other, worshiping each other with their tongues and fingers, until they began to fall into the easy trance of sleep. [Y/n] laid behind him, her arms twined around his waist, and she pressed a final goodnight kiss to the nape of his neck.

Before she settled into her last blissful sleep, she’d whispered one last “I love you, Castiel” against his skin.

Cas stood on the outskirts of the playground, his hands stuffed into the deep pockets of his trench. It had been a few months since he’d killed the demon-- Cerebur-- that had been responsible for [y/n]’s death. The eight month anniversary of his leaving the Bunker was rapidly approaching, yet he ignored the calls of Sam and Dean Winchester. It was hard to hear the pain in their voices, to know that they still mourned as he did, though it was to be expected. Humans mourned their whole lives, oftentimes; there were some wounds that even Time could not heal. This wound. . . This wound had been one of the deepest any of them had sustained. [Y/n] had spent her younger years growing up with the Winchesters when John would pair off with her mother for extensive hunts. The situation had left the Winchesters and the girl ofttimes fending for each other and themselves in the same motel room for days on end. In some ways, the Winchesters had bonded with [y/n] more closely than they had even bonded with each other. For a short time, she’d had a shot at a normal life, quite like Sam had; a boyfriend swept her off her feet, carrying her off to some lofty apartment in the northern sectors of Seattle. Dean visited as often as possible, and Sam made his yearly trips north during spring break to spend his vacation with her and her soon-to-be husband.

Castiel idly wondered what he would find in her Heaven. The thought that she might be happy in her Heaven with that man nearly deterred him from visiting her.

She would want to see you, Cas. Dean’s words rang through his mind; he took a deep breath of the cool, damp air. He eyed the guardian angel apprehensively, knowing full well what he had to do. Where the thought of murdering one of his brothers or sisters would have been offensive and even horrifying some years beforehand, he now smothered the instinctive resistance to the motions of his hand as he swung his angel blade into the small of the angel’s back. Light flickered and grace crackled, smothering out as if a heavy hand had pressed down on the power, snuffing it out like a candle flame. He hid the body quickly; when he returned, the playground was desolate, silence hanging in the winter air.

He toed the sandbox quietly, palms sweating against the metal of his blade.

With a sudden conviction, Castiel jumped through the portal and disappeared into the lofty halls of Heaven.

It didn’t take long to find [y/n]’s door. He stood before it for a long time, listening to the steady thumps of his heart. He’d dreamt of this moment for so long; now that he stood on the threshold of action, pain flickered behind his sternum again. It wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been when he was human, but he still felt it. This place was a constant reminder that [y/n] was dead.

He gripped the handle of her door with shaking fingers before he gave it a twist and swung it open.

After the initial light of his entrance had faded, he blinked away the glare of a bright summer sun. The heat of it kissed his skin. That pain in his chest roared to life again as he realized where he was. In Sioux Falls, just down the road from Bobby’s house, was a pond fed by a lazy, gurgling stream. A grove of Poplars surrounded the water, tall grasses of the richest green swaying around every bank. Lilypads floated along the surface of the water, hugging the banks, creating a shadowed refuge for the fish hatchlings that darted below the surface of the water like tiny flashes of silver.

This had been the place [y/n] came to as a child, when she stayed with Bobby and the Winchester boys. It had also been the spot she’d brought him too during the early years of his time on Earth. She sat with him for hours, talking of humanity, plucking at the summer grasses as the birds sang above and the bugs chirped from below.

It had been there that Castiel had fallen in love with humanity; it had been there that Castiel had fallen in love with [y/n]. That love had been dulled by his angelic detachment, but he’d been able to express his affections in the form of undying loyalty. As the years went on, he became more accustomed to the concept of feelings; as the years went on, [y/n] and Castiel frequented this grove as often as possible.

But no visit had ever stood out to him as starkly as this. He had never been so in awe of his Father’s creations as he had been there, surrounded by a lazy summer evening, with [y/n]’s shoulder pressed against his own.

Now, sitting at the edge of the pond where they had sat that day, sat [y/n]. She had her back to him, but he knew it was her. He knew it in the way his heart soared and sank all at once, in the way that her hair glinted in the sun with the different shades of color in her tresses, in the way she rocked to an unheard tune amongst the chorus of nature. He crept towards her quietly, apprehension suddenly hammering at his heart, and he had to stop himself. It had been months since he’d felt the hot prick of tears, but there it was, a stinging behind his eyes. He scrubbed at his face and gulped down a breath of the summer breeze before he came to [y/n]’s side.

Sitting on the cross section of [y/n]’s folded legs was a toddler, no more than four, with the hair of Castiel’s vessel and with the stunning eyes of [y/n]. When she turned that gaze onto the angel, he nearly crumpled. A wide, toothy grin split her sun-kissed skin; oh, she had her mother’s smile.

“Daddy!” The toddler reached for him, and Castiel sucked in a shuddering breath, sinking onto his haunches. He pressed the heels of his hands into the sockets of his eyes, the heat behind his blue orbs swelling until the tears spilled over and tracked down his face. He’d never considered the possibility that [y/n] might. . . That he might. . . But, there she was-- the baby that was very obviously his daughter. He saw Jimmy in the girl, almost more so than he saw [y/n]. “Daddy, Daddy!”

Small arms wrapped around his neck and he was abruptly pulled down a little lower; soft giggles filled his ears, and he slowly unwound his arms from about himself to sweep up the girl that had pulled him down into a hug. He kept his eyes closed, unable to look at [y/n], feeling her quiet stare as she watched with a soft smile. It wasn’t until he felt her lips ghost across his own that he finally opened his eyes. [Y/n] knelt before him, looking beautiful and so deceptively alive. . . He freed one hand and reached forward, brushing his thumb across her cheek to ensure she wasn’t another dream.

Her head tipped to the side, her cheek pressing into the callused surface of his palm. Her eyes fluttered closed, her smaller hands coming to rest against the back of his as it cradled her skull. She finally sighed, long and low, and a grin stretched across the gentle curve of her mouth. She met his eyes for the first time in eight long months; love and adoration twinkled there, spurring on the cascade of tears down Castiel’s rugged face.

“You’ve kept us waiting long enough, my love,” she finally hummed.

@willowing-love

@angelsxreader

@castielxreaders

@casxreader

@castielxreaders

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samrudhbaden1994 · 4 years

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How To Increase Your Height Scientifically Blindsiding Tips

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