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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 months ago

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The Keys Of Heaven [Chapter 3: His Kingdom Will Have No End]

A/N: Hi besties, I'm sorry this chapter is being posted so late! I got an awful migraine but took some meds and prayed for strength and I was still able to get it out Sunday night, hallelujah 🙏 I hope you enjoy Chapter 3!!!

Series summary: Three years ago, Father Aemond Targaryen performed a miracle. Now he is a cardinal, a media sensation, and a frontrunner to be elected pope. You are a nun who has been brought to Vatican City to assist with the papal conclave. But when your paths cross by happenstance, you must both reckon with your decision to join the Catholic Church…and what you want from the future.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), references to abuse and violence, volcanoes, bodily injury, death, peril, scheming, pining, some drugs/alcohol/smoking, Catholic trivia you never asked to learn, kangaroos!

Word count: 6.2k

🦘 A very special thanks to my Aussie slang consultant @bearwithegg and also her mum (any mistakes are mine) 🦘

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @lauraneedstochill @ecstaticactus @neithriddle, more in comments! 🥰

🗝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🗝️

All night you can’t stop thinking about him, haunted by visions like the ones the Lord used to speak to Saint Catherine of the breaking wheel, or Saint Thomas Aquinas of his eight million written words, or Saint Joan of Arc of the sword and the flames. You see Aemond’s palms on your bare thighs, clear rivulets of shower water pouring down his scarred face, molten red candle wax dripping onto your skin and drying there like the wounds of a martyr. And paradoxically, this does not feel like sacrilege, not an obstacle to your faith but something that lives alongside it: yes, the teachings of the Lord are good for me and for the world, yes, I want Aemond in a way that is instinctive and lustful and overwhelming. Is it possible to have both? Is that temptation, or is that truth?

You roll over and readjust your pillow for what is approximately the twentieth time when Rhaena snaps from across the room: “Will you calm your farm, mate?”

You sit up in your single-sized bed. “Rhaena, do you know a song called Atlantic City?” You’re in seclusion, so you can’t just look it up on Spotify or YouTube like you normally would. You keep trying to figure out how it goes, but you can’t remember. When you think of that night when Aemond left Sydney with his family, all you can conjure are whispers, and streetlights, and the look on his unscarred face as he stole one final glimpse of you, his last for twenty-nine years.

“What?” Rhaena groans, yawning.

“It’s an old song. Maybe from the 80s.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard it.”

“It’s by Bruce Springsteen.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” You lie back down and stare at the wall, where a plain wooden cross hangs and through the window you can see the immense shadow of the brick wall that separates the sovereign state of Vatican City from Rome, filling up with pilgrims from across the globe who have gathered to pray for the soul of the last Holy Father and the election of the next one. They wave flags from six continents and hold candles with white paper bobeches so the melting wax won’t burn their hands. They are singing O Holy Night.

In the morning, you find Sister Helvi and Sister Nuru cleaning the cardinals’ rooms; it’s time for the washing, and the baskets in the hallway are piled high with sheets stripped from mattresses and damp towels yanked from bathrooms. This is Aemond’s floor. He has a room all the way at the end, a little bigger than the others, perhaps a recognition of his elevated status by whichever nun gave him his room key when he arrived; how many miracle workers live here on earth instead of in the pages of myths? His neighbor is Cardinal Bogdi Marcu of Romania, an archaic relic like the bones in the tombs of the Vatican Grottoes beneath Saint Peter’s Basilica, or the Necropolis below that, an ancient Roman burial ground believed to be the site of Saint Peter’s grave. He was crucified during the reign of Nero, although upside down at his own request. He proclaimed himself unworthy to die in the same manner as Christ.

Being an apostle was a tough slog, you think randomly. Eleven out of twelve died in agony.

Sister Helvi, originally from Finland, is in her late-forties and has a round face, white-blonde hair that is turning grey, and wide-set blue eyes that are ever-twinkling. She took her vows after she and her husband divorced and her children left for college. She still calls them every day...or, at least, she does when she is not in seclusion. Sister Helvi waves when she sees you. “We’re getting the hang of this! Sister Nuru and I will be done today in record time.”

“Good on ya,” you say. “Sister Rhaena and I can finish this floor.”

Sister Helvi shrugs and tries to decline. “We’re already here.”

“No, no, I insist.”

She gives you a puzzled look, but relents, and she and Sister Nuru—young like Rhaena, early-twenties, but far more self-possessed—carry full baskets down to the basement as you and Rhaena glide soundlessly like thieves into Aemond’s room.

Rhaena is delighted, always leaping at any opportunity to gaze in reverent fascination at his most mundane belongings: a hairbrush, a pair of shoes, the books on his writing desk. You would never tell Rhaena that you’re battling the sin of lust, not for Aemond or for any man. There has always been something rather incorporeal about her; she doesn’t speak of men in a way that reveals any knowledge or desire of sex, she seems bewildered when others use words like longing or temptation or impulses. She is worshipful of some men, of course—the late Holy Father, and Aemond, and she went through a Harry Styles phase—but from a distance, and there’s no impropriety behind it. You don’t think she would understand.

While Rhaena is in the bathroom collecting Aemond’s towels and washcloths, you go to strip his sheets; but first you examine them. You run your palm along the soft white cotton until you find what you’re searching for, a small spot about halfway down the mattress that has dried stiff. And you smile, because now you know he’s been thinking about you too.

~~~~~~~~~~

Another koi is floating at the edge of the pond, still and sightless.

“Oh, fuck me dead,” you mutter, then look around to make sure you’re alone. You paw the corpse over to you and lift it out of the water, then hastily bury it where you and Aemond hid the other one. Then you feed the survivors and wash the death off your hands. Inside Saint Peter’s Basilica, the cardinals are gathering to await the Mass that will officially open the conclave. You hurry to join them.

As you walk down the paths of volcanic tuff pebbles and then the narrow paved streets that cut like arteries through the flesh of Vatican City—white Fiat Pandas occasionally zipping by you, somber-faced employees wearing sunnies behind the wheel—you think of what Mother Maureen and the other sisters of your convent are doing back in Sydney, festivities you are not a part of for the first time in fifteen years: hanging Christmas lights, baking cookies, singing songs, collecting donated goods to gift the guests staying in the shelter, clothes and books and electronics and of course toys for the children.

You remember the women with their downcast eyes and their ashamed confessions as they anticipate your judgment: You must think I’m mad for believing he was a good man at first. You must think I’m a coward for not leaving sooner. But you always answer honestly: No, I understand.

When you arrive in the heart of Saint Peter’s Basilica—beneath the golden dome, cool winter light falling in through the windows, the Papal Altar standing in the shape of a canopy bed—Rhaena in her habit is a white speck in a sea of red. She is standing with Aemond, Lucky, Kazi, Lando, and Cam. And, as you are alarmed to discover, she is telling them stories about you.

“They arrested a priest down in Woolooware,” Rhaena is saying. Aemond sees you, smiles, looks away almost bashfully. “And we didn’t even know the man, never met him, never went to Mass there. But the reporters are awful, just shameless, taking a family’s suffering and using it to knock the whole Church. So a bloke showed up with a tv camera at our convent, and the rest of us were all inside hiding from him. But she was out getting groceries, and when she pulled up in the car the reporter ran over, and as you can imagine he was having a whinge, even though we had nothing to do with that priest and hated him just as much as everyone else for what he’d done. The reporter shoved a microphone in her face as she was carrying all these bags and—you know, like he thought he was being clever—asked what she believed should be done with priests who abuse kids, and she replied: ‘Well, I’m tempted to say they should be taken out into the bush and shot, but the Lord instructs us to be merciful. So perhaps castration with something dull and rusty would be a good start.’ And she kept on walking.”

The cardinals laugh and give you nods of approval. Kazi is vaping, which you’re almost positive isn’t allowed inside the basilica. Stone statues of saints watch aloofly from the gilded walls: Saint Veronica who gave her veil to Christ so he could wipe the sweat from his brow as he carried the cross to Calvary, Saint Helen the mother of Emperor Constantine, Saint Longinus the Roman soldier who pierced Christ’s side with a lance at the end of the crucifixion, Saint Andrew who stands at the entranceway to the Vatican Grottoes below. The droning conversations of over a hundred cardinals drown out the sound of the congregants outside in Saint Peter’s Square; you think you can just barely hear that they are singing Angels We Have Heard On High.

“But the reporter wasn’t done yet,” Rhaena continues. “He was still badgering her, what about this scandal, what about that one, and by this point she was absolutely ropeable, and she spun around and shouted: ‘The Catholic Church is the most charitable institution on the face of the planet. We opposed slavery, we fought dictatorships, we saved hundreds of thousands of Jews during the Holocaust. What have you done for anybody today? Exploiting tragedies is easy. Working to prevent them is much harder. Give it a go sometime.’ And that man stopped dead in his tracks and just watched her as she carried her groceries inside.”

Now the cardinals are clapping and Rhaena is beaming at you proudly, and you can feel blood scorching in your cheeks like Saint Lawrence was roasted on a gridiron. “I couldn’t help myself,” you say modestly.

“You are very blessed to have such a ferocious sister guarding your convent,” Lucky tells Rhaena. He is grinning, but his large dark eyes flick restlessly between you and Aemond. Aemond alternates between staring at you and at his red leather shoes, repeatedly touching the gold cross that hangs from his neck.

“Too right,” Rhaena says. “We hit the lottery. She could have gone anywhere.” Then she turns to you, curious. “Why did you choose Sydney? Brisbane would have been closer to your family in Toowoomba. And if you wanted to really get away, you could have gone to Melbourne or Adelaide, or even Perth in Western Australia.”

You’re a little startled. You’ve never considered this before. “I don’t know. Sydney was just always my plan.”

Not far away, the dean Cardinal Seaborn is weaving through the crowd, stopping to speak to a different attendee every thirty or sixty seconds. “Cardinal Saati, I just wanted to take a moment to commend you for your peace and reconciliation efforts in South Sudan. I vividly remember first learning of the particulars of your work when you hosted the Holy Father during his visit to your country in 2013, and I was so struck by your compassion and your gentleness in the face of such senseless cruelty...”

Now Lando is informing his friends what he has learned about Cardinal Jacob Green. “Jake seems very daunted by the responsibilities inherent in leading the Church. I wouldn’t say he aspires to be elected. But he definitely doesn’t want Jahoda to get it, and he has concerns about...” Lando gestures to Aemond. “That a pope so young could reign for forty or fifty years. It would be tantamount to having a king or an emperor. That makes people nervous.”

“The youngest pope was twenty,” Cam counters.

“And he was elected a thousand years ago.”

Cam sighs irritably. “This is ridiculous. They say Saati is too old because he’s in his mid-seventies, Aemond is too young, Jake is too friendly with the Muslims, do Carmo has that embezzlement thing, Jahoda is too fat and diabetic...there’s always something to complain about.”

“Is Jahoda really diabetic?” Lucky asks hopefully.

“No. It’s just a rumor.”

“We should tell people he is,” Kazi says.

“Aemo’s not a normal candidate,” Lucky insists. “He’s above this squabbling. No one else here has performed a miracle. Unless you count the immaculate conception of those children in Paris who so closely resemble Cardinal Auclair.”

All seven of you chuckle. Rhaena is gazing admiringly at Aemond, doubtlessly thinking of those fifty lives he saved on Nea Kameni.

“I would have liked to be a father, in a different sort of life,” Kazi muses.

“Children bring so much joy,” Lando agrees. Lucky nods, but doesn’t say anything. His expression is now a bit pensive, distant.

“That was the hardest part about becoming a priest for me,” Cam says, cleaning his eyeglasses with a microfiber cloth. “Giving up my chance to have a family.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t miss out, no woman would have wanted you anyway,” Kazi says. “Did you ever think about having kids, Aemo?”

“No,” Aemond says immediately, frowning at the statue of Saint Veronica, the patron saint of laundry workers; and again you remember his bedsheets, your visions of him.

“How’s this going to work for Jake?” Kazi asks. “The voting today, I mean. Can he even write?”

Aemond looks at him incredulously. “What are you talking about? Of course he can write.”

“But...you know...the...?” Kazi holds up his right hand and curls in all four fingers, leaving only his thumb, mimicking Jake’s mutilation.

“He taught himself to use his left hand,” Aemond says.

Kazi raises his bushy eyebrows, impressed. “Perhaps Jake should be the pope.”

Cardinal Seaborn arrives, his grey hair ruffled and his zucchetto slightly askew on his head. He addresses Lando first. “Cardinal Almazan, you gave up the wealth and ease your family’s status afforded you and instead devoted yourself to rescuing the destitute from the streets. The orphanages you’ve founded in the Philippines have fed, housed, clothed, and educated countless children, and saved them from both physical and spiritual perils. I have also been personally inspired by your beliefs concerning the Eucharist, that it should be offered to all people—not only those in good standing with the Church—just as Christ ministered to even the most broken souls.”

Lando is embarrassed by the attention. “I appreciate all the guidance and support you have offered me throughout the years, Your Eminence.”

“Cardinal Louissaint,” Cardinal Seaborn continues, turning to Lucky. “You have almost entirely eschewed the material comforts the Church makes available to you, as well as doctrinal debates, to focus on disaster relief and anti-poverty initiatives in Haiti. You have helped to rebuild houses, schools, and hospitals with your own hands. You have converted many troubled youths to the Faith, redirecting them from a path of violence and misery. You were offered a permanent position here in Vatican City last year, and you declined it. Your motivations are pure and noble, and I am so heartened to see how you’ve taken to mentoring our youngest cardinals, as your influence is badly needed in the Church.”

“You were offered a job here?” Cam asks Lucky; everyone seems surprised to hear this except Aemond. Lucky smirks and shrugs, as if it is no great accomplishment.

Cardinal Seaborn’s next acknowledgment is for Cam. “Cardinal Campbell, you went to a corner of the world that has been underserved and undervalued by the Church, but there you created something truly extraordinary. By ‘whispering the Gospel,’ as you describe it, you built relationships with the Mongolian people and embraced their customs while also showing them the way to Christ through your own humble, patient example. You have mastered one of the most challenging languages by diligently immersing yourself in the culture for over a decade. You are a pillar of the modern approach to evangelization.”

“Thank you very much, Your Eminence,” Cam says. “I hope all of our brothers can one day recognize the beauty of Mongolia and its people.”

Now Cardinal Seaborn looks to Aemond. “Cardinal Targaryen, where do I begin? When we first met just three short years ago, I remember thinking that you were one of the most intelligent, articulate, academically-inclined individuals I’d ever crossed paths with. You study tirelessly, inspired by Saint Thomas Aquinas, one of the greatest philosophers in the history of mankind. You are fascinated by the history of the Church. Yet despite your gifts, you still heed the counsel of your elders.” He signals to Lucky, Lando, Kazi, and Cam. “And God has seen fit to work a miracle through you. This is a very rare thing, and it cannot be ignored. You are divinely favored. Surely God has an exceptional path planned for you, wherever it might lead.”

What can Aemond say that won’t be arrogant, self-righteous, ambitious, hungry, attributes he’s not permitted to have if he is to be the next pope? He thanks the dean for his generous compliments and his ongoing efforts here to facilitate the conclave. Rhaena is radiant, gazing at Aemond as if he is something magnificent and yet untouchable, a constellation, a holy relic behind glass.

“And Cardinal Nowak...” Cardinal Seaborn rests a hand on Kazi’s shoulder, pauses, then flushes pink as he realizes he’s forgotten what to say. Aemond, Lucky, and Cam burst out laughing. Lando is smiling, but politely bows his head to try to hide it.

Kazi puffs on his vape. “Don’t worry, Brother. You’ll think of something.”

Cardinal Seaborn is mortified. “Forgive me, I’ve barely slept, and I’ve tried to prepare a few points for everyone, over a hundred cardinals...oh yes, of course, I wanted to praise your interreligious outreach, particularly with the Jewish community in Poland. You have a conviction to modernize one of the most traditional branches of our Church, and even if your methods are somewhat unorthodox...abandoning the Latin Mass, blessing gay and trans individuals...I cannot help but admire your tenacity.”

“You forgot the drug addicts and sex workers. I blessed them too.”

“Please abstain from smoking here, Cardinal Nowak. It’s bad for the artefacts.”

Kazi sighs but tucks his vape away in a pocket of his scarlet cassock. Now the cardinals are moving to take their places in the red-cushioned pews set up in front of the Altar of the Chair of Saint Peter, a symbol of the authority of the Church, a throne older than any almost any continuous monarchy on earth. The keys are passed again and again, but the office is never left vacant. Etched into the golden frieze above the altar is, in both Latin and Greek: O Shepherd of the Church, you feed all Christ’s lambs and sheep.

“Brothers, let us begin,” Cardinal Seaborn says, and strides towards the pews. Lucky, Kazi, Lando, and Cam accompany him. Rhaena takes her place in the last pew, where Sister Penny, Sister Helvi, and Sister Nuru are already sitting. The nuns are to stay out of the way, as always, eternally vanishing into trees and wallpaper and heaps of stained, wrinkled washing.

Lucky stops when he realizes Aemond isn’t following. “Aemo?”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Aemond replies.

“Aemo, come on.”

“In a minute,” Aemond snaps, and Lucky shoots him a disapproving glance before continuing on to the pews.

Aemond stands with his hands clasped behind his back, tense and silent like a bolt of red lightning. He wants to talk to you, but he doesn’t know what to say; you understand this because you feel the same way. Part of you is afraid he can see the forbidden visions strobing in your skull, can feel his bedsheets skating beneath your palm. Part of you wants him to know.

“Aemo,” you say after a while, meaning the moniker. “Where did that come from?” You think you might have called him that on the beach, but you can’t recall for sure. It was so long ago, another hemisphere, another time zone, another lifetime so distant it could be a dream or a myth, the story of a saint no one can prove ever lived.

“From you,” Aemond replies, smiling softly. “When I met my friends here, they already had nicknames, and they were trying to pick one for me. But it was giving them trouble...Aemond isn’t so common outside of Greece. So before Kazi could decide to use Aemy or Mondo or something equally horrific, I told them I knew somebody once who called me Aemo.”

“Did I really?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Not many of the details.” It’s so much like your experience with the Faith: the soul of it is greater than all its parts, components that could be entirely real or not, a truth that transcends mortal complications.

Now Aemond is reluctant. He has to confess something he’s afraid will offend you. “I’m sorry I lost your rosary.”

This doesn’t make any sense; your rosary—beads of white pearl, a gift from Mother Maureen—is safely stowed in a pocket of your white habit. “What?” Then you realize he means the one you gave him on the beach, red glass beads roped together by a thin sterling silver chain.

“Well, I had it with me that day,” Aemond says. “On Nea Kameni.”

Your voice drops low, clandestine, enraptured. “Aemond, how did you stop the lava? The tourists said you held up your hands and the river flowing towards them stopped. How is that possible? How did you do that?”

His gaze falls to your medallion, then down to the marble floor. He is standing on a blood drop of porphyry, a red volcanic stone with large glittering crystals. “I don’t know. I just did.”

Most of the cardinals are in their seats, and Cardinal Seaborn has begun the opening prayer. “We should join them.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Defo,” you say, and Aemond laughs. He goes one way, and you go the other; you sit in the back row of pews, he sits at the very front, and all through the Mass you are searching for glimpses of him, hair that is still blonde, the scar tissue of a miracle that nearly killed him.

Afterwards, you and Rhaena walk with the procession of cardinals as they are led to the Sistine Chapel and ceremonially locked inside. On the first day of voting, there will be only one ballot; thereafter, there will be two cast each morning and two each afternoon. Hundreds of years ago, the elderly cardinals were expected to remain inside until a new pope was chosen, spending days or weeks or even months entombed in a holy prison, men dying of heat stroke and pestilence and exhaustion. Now, they get to return to the Domus Sanctae Marthae each night, and seek the guidance of God amongst the sacred treasures of Vatican City.

As the heavy wooden doors are closed, you see Michelangelo’s The Last Judgment painted on the far wall, the Second Coming and the resurrection of the dead, Christ surrounded by his apostles, Saint Lawrence with the gridiron he was roasted on, Saint Bartholomew holding his own flayed skin. And then you and Rhaena kneel outside the Sistine Chapel with your palms and ears pressed to the doors until soldiers of the Swiss Guard order you to leave.

~~~~~~~~~~

There are 106 voting cardinals. In order to achieve a two-thirds majority and thus be elected pope, a candidate must receive at least 72 votes. Here are the results of the first ballot:

Cardinal Matej Jahoda of the Czech Republic receives 33 votes.

Cardinal Aemond Targaryen of Greece receives 27 votes.

Cardinal Jacob Green of Iran receives 22 votes.

Cardinal Gideon Saati of South Sudan receives 11 votes.

Cardinal Leopoldo do Carmo of Portugal receives 8 votes.

Cardinal Valentino Parmigiano of Italy receives 3 votes.

Cardinal Orlando Almazan of the Philippines receives 2 votes.

Now dinner is being served, and the dining hall is raucous after a day of hushed rituals and contemplation, the brand new landscape being analyzed. Pope John XXIII once described how contenders bob up and down during the ballots ‘like peas in a pot of boiling water’: they rise until they can’t anymore, their reservoir of votes exhausted, and then they are cast aside in favor of cardinals who still stand a chance, or a cardinal who can serve as a consensus candidate like Pope John Paul II was plucked out of obscurity in 1978 when none of the favorites could reach the requisite majority.

There are archaic rules that are still observed here, relics of the more lawless conclaves of past centuries; there are no pies or whole chickens for example, no food in which a note could be stored and passed to another cardinal, a bribe or a threat, vote for me and I will give you fifty giornatas of land, vote for me or I will kill you. You and the other nuns are ferrying plates of spaghetti to the tables, red tomato sauce and chunks of Italian sausage and leaves of fresh basil. Sister Penny is so flustered, you wouldn’t dare stop to sit down in the empty chair beside Aemond; she wouldn’t yell at you—and she would never claw or slap like Sister Augustina—but she would worry, and she is overtaxed enough already. Still, you linger near Aemond when you serve his table.

Lando seems genuinely disturbed. “Who is voting for me?”

“First day glitch, ignore it,” Lucky says. He has more pressing concerns on his mind. “If most of do Carmo’s votes go to Jahoda, and Saati’s go to Jake, we might have a problem.”

“Where did Parmigiano come from?” Cam asks, baffled.

“No conclave is complete without an Italian,” Aemond says.

Kazi is ripping up pieces of bread to dip in his spaghetti sauce. “Parmigiano isn’t a name, it’s a chicken.”

“He’ll be gone in the next ballot,” Lucky says confidently. Then he peers across the room at Cardinal Jahoda, who somehow appears even larger than he was this morning, swollen with his impressive showing in the Sistine Chapel, his eyes sparkling and his smile broad. At his table he is joined by his ever-present companions, Auclair and Ferrari, as well as by two new devotees: Cardinal Arto Koppel of Estonia, Cardinal Viorel Nemerenco of Moldova.

“Fat pope, thin pope,” Cam murmurs ominously. This is a longstanding adage within the Church. The ideological factions tend to trade off, the balance maintained, a conservative pope following a liberal pope and vice versa; and since the Holy Father was a progressive, many will feel that a traditionalist like Jahoda should succeed him.

“The world needs proof of miracles,” Lucky says, looking at Aemond. “They strengthen the Church. They give people hope. It is only natural to drift away from God when we see no evidence of him.”

“Even Mother Teresa had doubts,” Kazi concurs, and then he quotes her: “Where is my faith? Even deep down there is nothing but emptiness and darkness. If there be God – please forgive me. When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven, there is such convicting emptiness that those thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul.”

To your amazement, Aemond, Lucky, and Cam all seem to agree with this, nodding as if the Faith is something they pick up and put down again, become periodically estranged from, rediscover and reembrace until their next lapse. Then they notice you watching them with your hands empty and your face bewildered.

“I’ve never felt that way,” you confess.

Lando says, looking up at you: “I haven’t either.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Beneath Saint Peter’s Basilica are the Vatican Grottoes, a stone web of corridors and chapels and the tombs of ninety-one popes, as well as a handful of cardinals, nobles, and monarchs including three queens. The arched pathways—like walking beneath the arbors in the gardens—of the labyrinth are adorned with mosaics, paintings, and inscriptions, punctuated by alcoves where marble statues stare out at you with cold ancient eyes, and if they could speak perhaps they would say: Do you know what miracles I performed? Do you know how I was martyred?

You are down here because someone has to be, and you begged Sister Penny to let it be you, because you know Aemond is roaming these tunnels and you’re hoping to find him. So you flit between the tiny, pigeonhole chapels, each able to accommodate only five or ten guests at a time, small wooden pews provided so the cardinals can pray in their chosen location. You light candles on altars and replace the ones that have burned down to pools of wax, you help to guide old men who have gotten turned around and are lost in the maze. You spy Kazi in the Polish Chapel of Our Lady of Czestochowa, and he gives you a brief smile but then returns to his prayers, his forehead resting on his interlaced hands; even he is solemn here, and it’s so quiet except for soft, echoing footsteps and occasional whispers, the cardinals listening for divine wisdom or willing their chosen result into existence, the fate of the Church that has survived for two millennia hanging precariously in the balance.

You spot Cardinal Kelly in the Irish Chapel of Saint Columbanus, Cardinal Barraza in the Mexican Chapel of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and Cardinal Jahoda in the Chapel of the Patron Saints of Europe. You move almost silently so as not to distract him, and when you enter the chamber his eyes are closed; but once you’ve replaced several of the candles on the altar, you turn to see that he is glaring at you, a conspirator with his enemies, a usurper of the natural order. You bow your head and flee mutely from Jahoda’s cold, iron wrath, not something that burns anymore but that has cooled over the years until it is metallic and cutting and inflexible.

What if Aemond wins? you find yourself thinking as you follow the corridors to one diminutive chapel after another. If he becomes the next pope, what happens to us? Anything? Nothing?

You slip into the Clementine Chapel, directly beneath the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica where you stood this morning. It is the gem of the Vatican Grottoes, closest to the tomb of Saint Peter in the Necropolis below: gold covering the walls, low ceiling, low light, red and white candles flickering on the altar...but several have burned out. You go to light them, taking a book of matches from the pocket of your habit.

There is a narrow aisle and five single pews on each side where worshipers can sit or kneel to speak to God. Cardinal Auclair is kneeling in the frontmost pew on the left side, his eyes closed, deep in thought or prayer. Cardinal Ferrari is near the back, but he’s getting reckless; you have the impression his knees are paining him. You take weightless, hushed steps as you pass by Cardinal Ferrari. Then you hear someone else enter the chapel. You look back to see Aemond standing at the beginning of the aisle; but you aren’t alone. He glances at Cardinal Ferrari, then Cardinal Auclair, then drops to kneel in one of the pews near the entrance of the chapel, either waiting for them to leave or planning to follow when you do.

You return your attention to the altar; but your heartbeat is thunderous and blood burns under your skin like veins of magma beneath volcanic earth. You can’t act like you care that he’s here. You can’t reveal what you feel for him. It’s not safe yet; you and Aemond aren’t alone.

The altar rests on two porphyry columns, red like bricks or lust or bone marrow. Behind it is a bronze cage covered with gold, through which you can glimpse the marble structure Emperor Constantine built over the site of Saint Peter’s burial. Down the aisle, Cardinal Ferrari stands, stretches, groans, and plods out of the chapel. Now it is only you, Aemond, and Auclair, seemingly unaware of your presence here, his icy blue eyes still closed.

You finish lighting the candles, then replace a red one that has burned down to the nub. You turn to leave, still clasping the piece of red candle to be discarded, warm and filled with a tiny maroon lake of melted wax. And because you are thinking of Aemond—his hands, his bedsheets, his wrath, his pride, his lust—as you traverse the narrow aisle, you accidentally bump into Cardinal Auclair’s shoulder, and the remnants of the red candle fly out of your grasp, and a streak of molten wax spills down the front of his cassock. He strikes out before you can begin to apologize, his long fingers catching on your wrist, and because you don’t see it coming you yelp and flinch away, dire muscle memories bubbling up to the surface, lava that ruptures through split stone and burns, burns, burns.

Auclair hisses: “Watch what you’re doing, girl—”

And then Aemond is here ripping him out of his pew, one hand on Auclair’s throat, another twisted into the front of his cassock, throwing him against the altar and pinning him there, a man who is two decades older than Aemond, a man who suddenly seems so thin and frail and petrified. And you know just by looking at him: Auclair has never been hit, Auclair did not believe such a thing was possible. He is sputtering and swearing in French, trying to writhe out of Aemond’s grip. The candles on the altar have been knocked over, red and white wax bleeding everywhere. And on Aemond’s face is a blind, mindless fury, numb to the consequences, feeling only a fire that consumes until nothing is left.

“Aemond,” you plead, panicked, reaching for him, your palm colliding with his chest. “Aemond, you can’t!”

Then the realization floods back into him—a pope cannot be wrathful, a pope cannot sin so gravely—and Aemond releases Auclair, who collapses against the altar and gasps for breath. He stares up at Aemond, still stunned, still furious.

“You are a monster,” Auclair whispers hoarsely. “You are more beast than man, Cyclops.”

“No one will believe you,” Aemond says, his voice dark like a storm. And that might be true, given Auclair’s well-known moral deficits; no one except his closest allies, Jahoda, Ferrari, Koppel, Nemerenco.

Auclair stands, staggers as he tries to find his footing, then stumbles out of the chapel.

“Aemond,” you say softly. Your palm is still on his chest, you realize, and this is dangerous; each time you touch him, the visons grow brighter, more inexorable, more real. “You didn’t have to...you shouldn’t have...you can’t do that.”

He looks at you, fear in his remaining eye, but not regret. He clutches for the altar as if he thinks he will fall without it, his right hand settling in a pool of spilled red wax. “I couldn’t stop.”

And when Aemond’s left hand clasps yours, you don’t resist him, you don’t even hesitate, you let him draw you in until he is kissing you and his right hand, wet with candle wax, cradles your face, staining you, burning you, drying there like a second skin, and the visions were true: it is a perfect and calamitous hunger, it is a gravity you can’t fight, and as your lips and tongue follow his you taste smoke, wine, heat, something inexplicably familiar like somewhere you’ve always belonged.

There are heavy, pounding footsteps coming down the corridor, and you and Aemond reel away from each other, disbelief stark on your faces in the golden glow of the chapel: How could we have done that? How could we stop?

Kazi appears at the beginning of the aisle. “I heard Auclair shouting, what...?”

He trails off as he notices you, candle wax on your face to match the red on Aemond’s palm. Kazi’s eyes dart uncertainly between you and Aemond. You escape before he can see anything else: the desire in your flesh, the revelations in your bones.

Kazi watches you leave, confounded, afraid. Then he goes to Aemond and asks quietly, not like a chastisement, but so he will know how to help: “Aemo, what did you do?”

You bolt from the Vatican Grottoes, up the staircase into Saint Peter’s Basilica and emerging by the statue of Saint Andrew, out into the starlight where you can hear the thousands of Catholics in the square beyond the wall singing Silent Night. You run to the Domus Sanctae Marthae before anyone can spot you, unlock your room which is mercifully unoccupied, careen into the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror, crimson wax dried on your cheek and jaw in the shape of Aemond’s hand. Then you dig your fingernails beneath the edges so you can peel it off your skin.

I have to get rid of this before Rhaena comes back. She wouldn’t understand, she wouldn’t forgive me.

But even when you wash the remnants of the wax away, you’ll still be marked by him: a redness that fills veins and arteries and the chambers of your heart, a fire that burns down to the bones.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #hotd fic #hotd fanfic

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writeriguess · 3 months ago

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hiii! I completely took a break from Tumblr and came back to see you are writing again!! good to be back and with this pleasant surprise!! my luck goes to youuu <3

as for the request!! (which was lost lolll)

reader x katsuki, where they both are pro hero's and reader (preferably she/her) is overseas doing her own thing, but there was something always unrequited between katsuki and her! there ends up being a team up mission where katsuki and any other mha characters up to your choosing! fly where she is! it ends where katsuki confessing to her, but I YEARN for that angst and slowburn, if this isn't too much to ask I would love to see how you write this out!!

again! work at your own pace and don't burn out dear!! <3

-nabi

Across Distant Skies

You always knew there was something lingering in the space between you and Katsuki Bakugo—something unspoken, but fierce enough to burn. It was a stubborn ache, a feeling that gnawed at you through brief glances and sharp, brash words that meant more than they should. But you’d left Japan for a reason—hero work called, and you answered, throwing yourself into the chaos overseas.

Years passed, and you carved out a name for yourself. A pro hero respected in a land far from home, doing work that mattered. It was easier to bury feelings when continents separated you, but even oceans couldn’t drown thoughts of him. Still, you made peace with it—or tried to.

The mission comes suddenly. A high-stakes operation requiring an international team-up. A rogue villain organization targeting civilians, and Japan’s best are called in for reinforcements. When you see the list of names, your heart skips a beat.

Ground Zero. Dynamight. Katsuki Bakugo.

You curse under your breath, forcing composure as you gather intel for the briefing. It’s been years since you’ve seen him in person—no calls, no messages. You weren’t close enough for that, or maybe you were too close. Distance was a safer bet.

When they arrive, your breath hitches. Katsuki hasn’t changed—still tall and sharp, with eyes like molten fire and a presence that demands attention. You swallow hard and offer a curt nod as he meets your gaze.

"Long time no see, Dynamight," you manage, a teasing smirk hiding your nerves.

"Yeah. Overseas work didn’t kill ya, huh?" He scoffs, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes—something hungry, something bitter.

The mission briefing is tense, details laid out with precision. Katsuki’s presence looms, all bristling confidence and impatience, but he listens. You give orders, he questions you once—out of habit, more than defiance. You answer coolly, and a flicker of approval crosses his face.

It feels like old times—back when rivalry bled into something else. When touches lingered and gazes meant more than they should. But there’s a mission to focus on.

The operation is brutal, a tactical nightmare of explosives and quirk-laced mayhem. You and Katsuki fall into sync—years apart mean nothing when instincts take over. You’re back-to-back, breath mingling as enemies surround you.

"You good?" he growls, blasting an enemy to dust.

"Fine. You’re slower than I remember, though."

"Bullshit."

It’s a dangerous dance—more flirtation than bickering, but neither of you acknowledge it. Not until the mission is over, victory claimed in the rubble of destruction. Your team regroups, and relief floods your veins.

Later, alone under a sky littered with stars, you finally relax. The relief is short-lived.

"Oi."

You stiffen as Katsuki approaches. His expression is thunderous, gaze locked onto you like a predator. "You didn’t say shit before you left."

"Didn’t think I needed to," you reply evenly.

"Bullshit," he snaps. "You ran off—"

"I got an offer. I took it."

"You fuckin’ ran."

The accusation stings. You cross your arms, holding your ground. "What do you want from me, Katsuki?"

"An answer," he growls, stepping closer until heat rolls off him in waves. "Why’d you leave without a damn word?"

Your resolve wavers. His eyes are intense—too intense. "I didn’t think it mattered."

He laughs—a harsh, bitter sound. "You’re a shit liar."

Silence stretches between you, thick with unsaid things. His gaze burns as he searches your face.

"Say it," he demands.

You don’t. Can’t.

He curses, fists clenching. "You wanna keep running, fine. But I’m fuckin’ tired of pretending I don’t want you."

The words crash over you, a confession wrapped in anger and desperation. Your breath catches.

"You..."

He doesn’t wait. His mouth crashes against yours, fierce and unyielding. You gasp, and he swallows the sound, hands finding your waist, pulling you close. The kiss is a battle—heat, teeth, and desperation—but it softens, lingering as you melt against him.

When he pulls away, his eyes blaze. "Now say it."

You tremble, resolve crumbling. "I never stopped wanting you."

His smirk is wolfish, victorious. "Good. ‘Cause I’m not letting you run away again."

The promise lingers—fierce and binding—as he kisses you once more under the distant stars.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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bestanimal · 4 months ago

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Round 3 - Mammalia - Lagomorpha

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Our Our next mammalian order and first of the clade Glires is Lagomorpha. Lagomorphs are separated into two living families: Leporidae (“rabbits”, including “hares”) and Ochotonidae (“pikas”).

Lagomorphs are characterized by having four incisors in the upper jaw (smaller peg teeth behind larger incisors), whereas rodents only have two. Like rodents, their incisors grow continuously, requiring constant chewing on fibrous food to prevent the teeth from growing too long. All lagomorph teeth grow continuously (for most rodents, only the incisors grow continuously). They have no paw pads, instead, the bottoms of their paws are entirely covered with fur. Rabbits move by jumping, pushing off with their strong hind legs and using their forelimbs to soften the impact on landing. Lagomorphs are almost strictly herbivorous. Pikas are known for making "haypiles" of dried vegetation which they collect and carry back to their homes to store for use during winter, since they do not hibernate. Lagomorphs are widespread around the world and inhabit every continent except Antarctica. However, they are not found in most of the southern cone of South America, in the West Indies, Indonesia, or Madagascar, nor on many islands. They are not native to Australia, but have been introduced there by humans.

Lagomorphs are unusual among terrestrial mammals in that the females are usually larger than males. Many lagomorphs breed several times a year and produce large litters. The young of rabbits and pikas (called kits, or leverets in hares) are born after a short gestation period and the mother can become pregnant again almost immediately after giving birth. Most lagomorph newborns are altricial (born with no fur and their eyes and ears closed), while true hares (genus Lepus) are precocial (born fully furred with their eyes and ears open). The mothers are able to leave their kits safely and go off to feed, returning at intervals to feed them with their unusually rich milk. In some species, the mother only visits and feeds the litter once a day but the kits grow rapidly and are usually weaned within a month. Most burrowing lagomorph species are colonial, feed together in groups, and have multiple large litters throughout the year. Non-burrowing species are typically solitary and have one or two smaller litters each year.

The evolutionary history of the lagomorphs is still not well understood. In the late 20th century, it was generally agreed that Eurymylus, which lived in eastern Asia and dates back to the Late Paleocene or Early Eocene, was an ancestor of the lagomorphs. Further examination of fossil evidence suggests that the lagomorphs may have instead descended from mimotonids, mammals present in Asia during the Paleogene with similar body size and dental structure to early European rabbits such as Megalagus turgidus, while Eurymylus was more closely related to rodents. The Leporids first appeared in the Late Eocene and rapidly spread throughout the Northern Hemisphere. The pikas appeared somewhat later in the Oligocene of eastern Asia. Today, lagomorph lineages seem to be declining, as they were far more diverse in prehistory.

Propaganda under the cut:

The smallest living leporid is the Pygmy Rabbit (Brachylagus idahoensis) (image 3) with adults weighing between 375 and 500 grams (0.8 and 1.1 lb), and having a body length between 23.5 and 29.5 cm (9.3 and 11.6 in). The Pygmy Rabbit is the only leporid native to North America that digs its own burrow.

Unlike many other rabbits, the critically endangered Riverine Rabbit (Bunolagus monticularis) has a low breeding rate of only one to two offspring per year.

The Riverine Rabbit provides a benefit to farmers by causing the riverine vegetation that it eats to bind to the soil and prevent soil erosion through flooding. Through this process, the vegetation allows for filtration of rainwater into groundwater. This benefits farmers, who rely on windmills to draw up water from the ground for their livestock.

The endangered Hispid Hare (Caprolagus hispidus) is only seen sporadically, and was thought to be extinct prior to its rediscovery in Bornadi Wildlife Sanctuary in 1971. It was not seen between 1984 and January 2016.

Many rabbits and pikas rely on their burrows to escape from predators, but the long-legged hares (genus Lepus) rely on their speed and jinking gait to escape from danger. Hares can run up to 80 km/h (50 mph) over short distances.

Some hares turn white in the Winter, to better camouflage against the snow.

In the Spring, the normally shy and solitary hares can be seen congregating and members of both sexes will have leaping and “boxing” competitions. During the mating season, males will not only box to compete over females, but females may box to dissuade males they don’t want to mate with, or test a male’s determination and fitness. This sudden rise in chasing, leaping, and boxing behavior gave rise to the idiom "mad as a March hare".

The European Hare (Lepus europaeus) is one of the largest lagomorph species, with a head and body length of 60 to 75 cm (2 to 2.5 ft), and added tail length of 7.2 to 11 cm (2.8 to 4.3 in). Its body mass is typically between 3 and 5 kg (6.6 and 11 lb). It is rivaled by the Alaskan Hare (Lepus othus) which can measure between 50–70 centimetres (1.7–2.3 ft) in length, with the tail measuring up to an additional 8 centimetres (3.1 in), but weighing between 2.9 to 7.2 kg (6.4 to 15.9 lb).

The Snowshoe Hare (Lepus americanus) and the Arctic Hare (Lepus arcticus) (image 1) have been known to occasionally scavenge dead animals. This is an adaptation to their Wintry environment, where nutrients are scarce.

Mountain Hares (Lepus timidus) are routinely shot in the Scottish Highlands both as part of paid hunting "tours" and by gamekeepers managing Red Grouse (Lagopus scotica) populations (who believe that Mountain Hares are vectors of disease that could affect the birds). Much of this activity is secretive, but investigations have revealed that tens of thousands of hares are being culled every year.

At the Yangjiesha site of Loess Plateau, there has been found evidence of neolithic humans taming local Tolai Hares (Lepus tolai).

One of the rarest lagomorphs in the world is the Sumatran Striped Rabbit (Nesolagus netscheri). It was so rare that locals did not have a name for it, or even for rabbits, as they had never seen it. It is rarely observed in camera traps and by scientists. Nevertheless, in 2022 officials scrambled when a farmer was caught attempting to sell a Sumatran Striped Rabbit he caught in a flash flood on Facebook. Kerinci Seblat National Park authorities confiscated the rabbit and returned it to the wild.

Domestic Rabbits (Oryctolagus cuniculus domesticus) were domesticated from European Rabbits (Oryctolagus cuniculus) for their fur and meat by the Romans around the 1st Century BC, though “house rabbits” only began to be strongly promoted around the 1980s. Today there are hundreds of rabbit breeds originating from all over the world. Domestic Rabbits can be trained to use a litter box and taught to come when called, but they require exercise and can damage a house or injure themselves if it has not been suitably “rabbit-proofed”, because of their innate need to chew. Rabbits are the third most abandoned pet in the United States, especially after the Easter holiday. Domestic Rabbits, bred for generations by humans to be docile, lack survival instincts and perish in the wild if they are abandoned or escape from captivity.

The endangered Amami Rabbit (Pentalagus furnessi) (image 2) is often called a “living fossil”, as it is a remnant of ancient rabbits that once lived on the Asian mainland, where they died out, remaining only on two small Japanese islands where they live today. They are threatened by invasive Domestic Cats, Dogs, and Small Indian Mongooses (Urva auropunctata).

When threatened, the Swamp Rabbit (Sylvilagus aquaticus) can leap into the water and swim, sometimes keeping only their nose and eyes above the water.

Lagomorphs can process easily digestible food in their gastrointestinal tract and expel it as regular feces. But, in order to get nutrients out of hard to digest fiber, lagomorphs ferment fiber in their cecum (in the GI tract) and then expel the contents as cecotropes, which are then reingested (cecotrophy) or stored for later. The cecotropes are absorbed in the small intestine to best utilize the nutrients.

The Sardinian Pika (Prolagus sardus) went extinct sometime between 393 BC and the 6th century AD. It was the last surviving member of Prolagus, a genus of lagomorph with a fossil record spanning 20 million years once widespread throughout Europe during the Miocene and Pliocene epochs. The Sardinian Pika was much stockier and more robust than living pikas, and it probably resembled a sort of cross between a large wild rabbit and a pika. Its extinction was possibly due to agricultural practices, the introduction of predators (dogs, cats, and ferrets), ecological competitors (rodents and rabbits), and/or transmission of pathogens by rabbits introduced to Sardinia and Corsica by the Romans. Today, only the pika genus Ochotona remains.

The Chinese Red Pika (Ochotona erythrotis) is one of the largest pika species, averaging a length of 18 to 29 cm (7-11.4 in). They have both a Winter and Summer pelt. In the Summer, the Chinese Red Pika has a coat that is rusty-red at the head and chest and fades into grey towards the tail. In the Winter, the pika is mostly grey with a slight tint of red in the ear region.

The Ili Pika (Ochotona iliensis) is also known as the “Magic Rabbit”. It is endangered, with approximately fewer than 1,000 left.

Collared Pikas (Ochotona collaris) have been known to store dead birds in their burrows for food during winter.

The Steppe Pika (Ochotona pusilla) has been called a relict of the Late Pliocene on the basis of its fossil record, molar structure, karyological traits, and mtDNA sequence data. During the Pleistocene its range was larger and included most of Europe.

The endangered Hoffmann's Pika (Ochotona hoffmanni) is not social, except for with its mate. Pairs will claim territory together and share a hay-storage, which they store together. They are very territorial of their claimed rock formation.

In the mountains of Eurasia, pikas often share their burrows with snowfinches (genus Montifringilla), which build their nests there.

#animal polls #round 3 #mammalia

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deathsmile36 · 3 months ago

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Hello👋 , in a previous post, I talked about some of the secrets of TCF, and now I will mention some more secrets. If we talk about worlds, the nameless world of Cale is the most mysterious. We start with the City of Puzzles. At the beginning of the novel, Hans mentioned the story of this city with the rocks and how a god abandoned them. Who is this god, and why did he abandon this particular city? Why was WS targeting it, and why did the God of Despair place his temple there? Notice that the Crying Child died in this city, building a tower of rocks every day. If you remember, I previously mentioned a theory that the Crying Child might be the God of Death. Given the enmity and hatred between Death and Despair, I see them as connected in several ways. We also have the Forbidden Zones. Of these, I'm confused about only two: The Road of No Return The Dark Forest First, the Road of No Return. This is the only area where mana is disturbed. I don't think it's just a natural phenomenon. Second, the Dark Forest We know that the first followers of WS worshipped WS there before the Great War in ancient times. And we have the monsters. Where did those monsters come from? Did they come from the Demon Realm? The Super Rock Villa blocked the road between it and the Eastern Continent, so where did they come from? We also have that pillar and the gate separating the two continents in Super Rock Villa. Finally, we have that swamp. There was a dragon corpse in it, and since it was a corpse, that dragon had been killed, and it had the controlling aura with it. And as WS said, he left it, so he definitely killed that dragon. But if he was actually in the Dark Forest, how did he not realize Super Rock's power? Was it because he didn't have one of his friends' powers? Aside from the Nameless World, we have the Temple Tests. I think some of them might be from real parallel worlds, such as the Humiliation Test. In the tests Cale took, the world would disappear or vanish when he finished the test, but in the Insult Test, the world didn't disappear. Rather, the body Cale was living in would fall and he would lose consciousness. In front of Zed, he ordered his soldiers to hold the servant's body. In front of Dodam, Han held that man's body after he fell. So here, I guessed they might be parallel worlds, perhaps Nameless Worlds 2 and 3. Here, I also think, or hope, that Dodam will acquire a trait that will enable him to search for Cale. He knows his name, and I bet he intends to search for him. And we have the child KRS. We don't know how Han finished the test. Where did he leave the child Rok Soo? Did he meet his uncle and teach him a harsh lesson? How did Han bid farewell to that child? What if Rok Soo was sad about his absence? What if Rok Soo's uncle was angry because of Han and returned to take revenge on that child? Just thinking about it drives me crazy.

Finally, we have high school student KRS. We know that Cale survived the injury with Jung Jun because he had powers. But what about the original sequence? Rok Soo must have been seriously injured. Since Jung Jun was unable to protect him against the two Hunters, they may have tampered with Rok Soo's memories at that time. I'm also guessing that Soo Hyuk happened to have witnessed that battle and obtained the cutting ability from Jung Jun at that time. Since the Hunters likely didn't die at that time, they're likely from the Five-Colored Blood family and will appear later.

. . . . That's what I remember so far. If I remember more, I'll share it. I'd love to hear your hypotheses and share your opinions

#tcf novel #lcf #kim rok soo #lout of the count’s family #trash of the count's family #cale henituse

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blkkizzat · 2 months ago

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Hey beloved! KALIII I am back from NOLA and let me just say...the architecture was amazing. I had a beautiful time. So I been thinking....

AMERICAN Vacation JJK Men

Gojo goes there to escape. He has one free minute where no one was watching and he fucked off to a different continent. He is there specifically for Mardi Gras. He wants someone to flash him. He buys SO MANY BEADS to throw and specifically LIVES OFF OF BEIGNETS. He finds cute bimbo reader there with friends. She's practically naked, has a giant hurricane in her hand for shits and gigs, standing outside cafe du monde waiting on her friend to get back cause they're cash only (which I found out the hard way) . He approaches slowly and offers to buy her beignets, and the two don't separate the entire week he's there. He's practically her vacation boyfriend. At some point, she's practically living at his hotel. She's stopped by her own hotel (4 miles away) about twice to pick up her makeup and let her friends know she's alright. She is being fucked 7 ways to sunday and has absolutely no complaints. End of the trip, he accompanies her to the airport and buys her a new ticket for a week from then for her hometown to Tokyo, one way. He is not letting that fine a piece of ass go.

Geto is supposed to be in New Orleans gathering curses. Nola so damn haunted it's not hard to find a few powerful ones pretty quickly. He spots reader on a haunted tour. Just outside a supposedly haunted house. While there are many actually haunted houses in Nola this particular one had a special grade curse. One that tries to sink it's teeth into reader before Geto shows up and quickly dispatches it. A traumatized and newly informed reader is still processing but Suguru captilizes on it and convinces her to accompany him to dinner. She is the dinner. For hours. He convinces her to come live on his compound because curses aren't a problem there

Nanami has not taken a vacation since high school. He's due. Or rather he is forced to take one cause he works too much. He finally decides what the hell, he's only young once. Be indulges in one night of drinking. He has LOW tolerance. He wakes up at some fancy hotel room in the French quarter with reader in a skimpy outfit next to him. Which is a problem because he was originally in Las Vegas. He has no idea how he got there. He goes through the room looking for his things. He finds an industrial pack of condoms with about 5 missing. His passport, a receipt for a cheap ring and a marriage certificate. Reader wakes up with much of the same confusion on how they got there but a little more insight on what happened before that. Kento had stopped some douche from hitting on her by pretending to be her fiance. He'd said that they were there that weekend to get married. Nanami had spent the next 3 hours with her as the guy creepily stalked her from a corner. They'd been drinking so much that one of them had suggested they actually get married and they'd gone through with it. Nanami has no idea what to do next he is supposed to be back in Japan in 4 days. but reader suggests she come to Japan so they can figure it out together. Her job doesn't require her to live anywhere in particular, so it works out . Three months later, she's still there. Nanami has found he likes being a husband. His wife is good company, the sex is beyond compare and he's enjoying watching his colleagues reactions to finding out he's married.

Toji, I see him going there for a hit job and as soon as it's done looking for something else to hit if you get me. He's in Miami. There's so much to do there. He finds himself on the beach. He loves to get some sun. Unintentionally, but not unwelcome, he ends up on a nude beach. Out of the water, completely topless, comes reader a smile on her face as she runs to her set up on the beach only ten feet from Toji. She looks up at Toji, who has completely taken to the vibe of the beach. Nude, dick out for everyone to see and her jaw drops. And a fifteen minute chat up and small drive later, so do her panties in Toji's car at the first quiet place they could find. By the time Toji is ready to drops her off at her hotel with an unmarked number, Jelly Legs and a smile-he's already planning on seeing her again. Before he can even think of going she looks at him through her lashes and tells him to park, because she is so not done with him yet.

Thoughts from a blissed out - 🧠

AHHHHHH I LOVE ALL OF THESE SO MUCH OML!!!!

I love NOLA down, I also went for mardi gras! so i totally see them in each one of these situations omg im in LOVE.

Haha we also fucked up and didnt know cafe du monde was cash only thankfully someone had enough cash to cover us all cause the beignets are cheap. gojo would totally be living off of them.

geto collecting curses there is so spot on, poor truamatized reader kjfsadbjfahbfjhskb

love, love LOVE nanamis one because if you end up accidentally married to anyone—you def hit the JACKPOT with nanami.

toji nude beach with his dick out fjkahsdjkfhabsdkj im screaming!! i would have fucked him right there kjfahsdbjhfa.

ahhh welcome back sweet 🧠 nonny i missed u, im glad you had such a good time!!! any hoe stories of your own??? i know u said u were gonna try haha.

#🧠 anon #ೃ༝💌⁀➷ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мαιℓ #ೃ💌⁀➷𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉αησηѕ #ahhh you ate this pookies!!!#gojo x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #jjk smut

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lsd-astronaut · 1 year ago

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Hello!! I hope you don’t mind me asking but could you do a fluffy Crowley x Demon!reader x Aziraphale fic (or headcanons)??

Maybe something like what it’s like all being in a relationship together?

(Also if it’s not too much to ask can the reader use a cane to walk around? Maybe because of something relating to when they fell and became a demon? If not that’s okay!!!)

First of all, I love you and I could kiss you in the mouth right now. I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR AGES THAT CROWLEY WOULD HAVE CHRONIC PAIN BC OF THE FUCKING FALL. I refuse to believe for one moment that you can fall all the way from Heaven, land on the ground and be all “hey guys i’m fine!”

Aziraphale x Demon!Reader x Crowley

Please like and reblog<3

Warnings: chronic pain, but nothing else, this is just good old fluff

• You were an archangel along with Crowley, with the same obligations in making the cosmos✨ so you both met Aziraphale at the same time

• When Azi told you both that the project was destined to close in a few thousand years, you were the one that proposed to fill a complain to God (and crowley seconded you)

• Cue a war and a Fall later, Crowley and you are in Hell, but in different departments so you don’t see each other much

• In fact, you didn’t see Azi and Crowley for the first time since the Fall until the crucifixion of Jesus

• You stood beside them in silent reverence to this poor soul lost for all of humanity

• “What sort of mother would wish this fate upon her own kin?” Crowley and Azi turned to you with confused expressions (although Crowley gained a lot of respect for that comment hehe)

• After some idle conversation, and Crowley convincing Aziraphale not to just smite you right there and then, you three decide to traverse the world

• Centuries pass, and Crowley and you stay around humans (you love their way of living, and he likes children so everyone wins)

• You like to read everything you can get your hands on, to Crowley’s chagrin

• “Now I have two bookworms. What have I done to deserve this?”

• It’s circa the year 1000, in the new continent that these curious people called Vikings have discovered, when Crowley and you decide to experiment a human thing that you had wanted to try for a long time

• Your first kiss is messy, and there are more teeth than anything else; besides Crowley insists it feels slimey

• However, she can’t help but to accept he got a bit aroused by it

• Practice makes better, as they say, and so you do

• Although you spend the most time with Crowley, your relationship with Aziraphale also evolves throughout the years

• The “we have a mutual but I still don’t like you” to “maybe I do care about you” pipeline, if you want

• You take him to all kind of food places and bookstores, and he warms up to you a lot

• Introducing him to classical music was your proudest moment, and also the pettiest as Crowley had crossed you a bit beforehand

• The first time you kiss Aziraphale (or rather, he does), is one time you both were a bit tipsy during a masquerade ball in Paris in the 18th century

• He is a bit unexperienced but he gets the hang out of it really quick

• The three of you “confess” to each other in 1941, after the magic show fiasco

• Crowley looks nonchalant but you can see behind his eyes, he was worried sick he would be separated from both of you

• You make sure to give him extra cuddles that night

• Fast forward to 2008 and you work in Warlock’s house along with Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis, you being Warlock’s governess (like this is the fucking 1800s or smth lmao)

• It is at this time that the two of them notice you limping a bit every day after all chores have been done

• You insist that it is nothing and that you are perfectly capable of walking

• However, Ashtoreth happens to see you during one of your bad flares

• She immediately helps you to sit down on the bed, and looks at you expecting an explanation

• Her no-nonsense glare deters you from making up an excuse so you tell her the whole truth

• When you had fallen, you hadn’t landed correctly and had broken your legs on impact

• Miracles hadn’t done the full job and so you had been forced to endure the pain of the bones repairing themselves not quite right

• You had learned to mask the pain after centuries of practice but some days were just worse than others

• The next day, Ashtoreth gifts you a cane adorned with a snake head with little wings

• You proudly use it every day forward

• After the Second Coming, the three of you go to live in South Downs, finally able to be yourselves together

• There is still so much stuff to learn about everything, but you’re immortal and you are not alone, so why the hurry?

• As the sun sets on the horizon, you lean your head on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he reads one of Jane Austen’s books, and Crowley’s head is on your lap, already snoring softly

• You will be okay

I just wanted to say, I’m sorry if this is not what you asked for exactly as it is my first time writing for these two and I haven’t written either in two years so I feel I’m very rusty. I forgot ab the chronic pain until almost at the end, and I talk more about the history of you relationship than the actual relationship in itself lmao

Still, I hope you like it!

#good omens #good omens x reader #good omens fanfiction #good omens headcanons #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader x crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale

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pippin-katz · 2 years ago

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6 More Little Faces Alex Makes That I Love - Part 2

(not ranked in any order)

No. 1:

I love the smile he does right before this, but I also love this. He gets a little emotional. You can see in the way his mouth moves and his nostrils flaring that it looks like he’s a little choked up.

You know when you’re not crying, but you can feel that throbbing sensation in your throat, and you know you might start crying if you’re not careful. You start swallowing a lot to try and keep it back.

That’s what I’m seeing here, and that’s super sweet because he loves Henry so much that he might cry.

No. 2:

Do you think he knows? Do you think he’s doing it on purpose?

That right there is the “lifts eyes” look. That right there is exactly what authors are picturing they write something like this:

Alex looked down at where the key sat against his chest. The cool metal was a stark contrast to Henry’s hand. Goosebumps spread across his skin, centered on where they were touching. Alex raised his eyes to meet Henry’s.

Like sir, can you not be a walking fictional character? You might as well have walked out of the book.

No. 3:

There is no other word for this but swooning. Again, might as well have walked off of a page with how perfect his physicality and expressions are.

No. 4:

This look right after Henry says they’re committed to each other is perfect. He stays neutral enough not to be rude, but you can see it in his eyes and his eyebrows how determined he is.

He’s looking at Philip here as well, who has been giving Alex rude looks since they sat down; his face particularly after he says “god no” to the question of reading the emails is borderline disgusted, and if you watch his eyes, he looks at Alex more than Henry.

Kudos to Philip’s actor for being able to subtly imply his layers of prejudice with as little screen time as he has.

Alex’s responding stare is like he’s challenging him. His eyes say, “if you have a problem with that, you’ll have to fight me over it, because I’d die before I’d let you take him from me.”

It’s obvious from the moment the king starts talking that Alex wants to speak up, but he knows this is Henry’s fight first. He holds himself back for as long as he can and lets Henry do the talking.

At this point, the king has already dismissed Henry’s request for support and right to be happy, so Alex is definitely pissed off, and then Philip is a dick; his patience is running out.

It’s amazing how a tiny change in facial features can speak volumes without saying a word.

No. 5:

This breaks my fucking heart every time I watch it.

His eyes are noticeably red from crying, which I have no idea how he did because he's not actually crying in this scene, so it wasn't from filming it over and over again. Maybe they filmed the Kensington Palace scene prior to this one, on the same day or something, cause he was crying in that one.

Anyway, this expression just kills me, because he's reached the crossroads. He can either keep waiting, not knowing if Henry will ever answer him, or he can go to London to get his answer.

And the idea that Henry may not see him and how that would be it, the true end to their relationship, fucking devastates him.

You can see it in his eyes and the deep breath he takes that he's imagining it. He's playing it out in his head, him going to London and being turned away, and having to go about living his life without Henry in it.

Just the idea of it is enough to break his heart, and it breaks my heart to look at.

No. 6:

I love and hate the way Alex's face slowly falls when Henry says he should leave. Think about this for a second.

They live on separate continents with an ocean in between them. Alex is the First Son, and Henry is a fucking prince. They were texting for months before they got to see each other for New Year's Eve, which was the only reason why Henry was able to go to the States. He's only in the States now for the dinner party being hosted for the Prime Minister. He's flying back to London tomorrow.

They have no idea when they'll see each other again.

Henry has the idea of inviting Alex to the polo match, so he might be a bit optimistic, which is probably why he was still smiling when he pulls away. He's thinking about it, and has been for at least a little bit, probably since after the Red Room encounter earlier that night.

But Alex?

He has no idea how long it will be until the next time they're able to see each other in person again. Henry texted Alex for the first time on August 27th, and they weren't able to see each other in person until New Year's Eve. That is four months.

Since they were just friends during that time, it probably was no big deal, but now? Now they're going to be constantly thinking about each other. Thinking about getting to hold each other again, getting to kiss each other again, getting to do more explicit things again- all of it.

And Alex doesn't know when he'll get to do any of it again once Henry leaves. He even goes to say, "I guess I'll see you-" when he and Henry start talking at the same time.

Henry inviting him to the polo match is a promise of getting to see him next month, so probably a week or two, depending how far into the current month they are. It's probably part of why he smiles so much when Henry leaves. He has something to look forward to.

But in this little moment, Alex probably feels so sad because he knows Henry has to leave, but he really, really doesn't want him to, because he's not just leaving for the night so they don't get caught in Alex's room together. Once he walks out that door, he doesn't get to see him for who knows how long.

Agh, okay, that's all for part 2! I'm not too sure if I can make a part 3, but we'll see!

Update: If you enjoyed this essay & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

part 1 | part 3

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb thoughts #alex claremont diaz #taylor zakhar perez #firstprince

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ronqueesha · 3 months ago

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It's Warhammer facts time!

The food most commonly eaten by Imperial citizens is corn. Regular, average sweet corn that we eat IRL, in all its different forms. It's one of the few plants that survived the destruction of Terra's ecology, largely thanks to how it can grow almost anywhere. It's been a staple of offworld human colonies since humanity first colonized the stars tens of thousands of years ago.

Agri-worlds are planets that have had the majority of their landmass flattened into continent-sized agricultural fields. The Imperium uses these endless fields to ship food to all the hungry planets of the galaxy. Of course, this is the Imperium we're talking about. They do not practice sustainable farming on a planetary scale. Every single Agri-world is eventually doomed to have its soil collapse from over-production. Many inhospitable and barren planet that has some tiny shred of human population living on it were once agri-worlds that were farmed to death.

The meat that MOST people eat, if they're lucky, is grox meat. Groxes are large lizards that have been domesticated and bred on agri-worlds in countless number. Like corn, they can live just about anywhere, so are perfect to be shipped to any part of the galaxy.

Corpse Starch is a bit of a meme because it's not REALLY eaten by that many people in the galaxy. Only the truly desperate and downtrodden citizens in the worst hive cities have eaten it. And is often used as an emergency food ration for soldiers when zero other supplies are available. As its name implies, corpse starch is the ground-up remains of dead people, processed into tasteless sludge packed into tin cans. Its whole existence is a meme referencing Soylent Green. In fact, corpse starch is also known as "soylent veridian" in some parts of the galaxy, if the reference wasn't blatant enough.

Games Workshop's official stance is that Warhammer 40k and Warhammer Fantasy/Age of Sigmar are completely separate universes with no real crossovers. This stance was a little different in the past, with lots of little cheeky references in old codexes and magazine articles. Such as the non-canon notion that the entire 40k galaxy is actually contained in a bottle on the shelf of a wizard's tower.

BUUUUUUT - ever since Doom Eternal came out, the stance seems to have followed a path similar to how the Doom franchise treats hell. There is only one warp, only one sea of souls that connects all life, and all life across multiverses. The four chaos gods are constant because they are the same four beings in the warp, although they are viewed by very different lenses depending on where an observer thinks of them. Their greatest daemons likewise can appear in any reality the gods wish them to be, though the daemons themselves are unaware of how they're being used as toys. That's why you can play as Skarbrand/Kairos/Kugath/Nkari in Total War Warhammer 3, and also have those daemons on the tabletop in a 40k game.

Likewise, there is a character with an identical name, design and backstory in both fantasy and 40k. Be'lakor was the first ever champion of chaos. From an ancient unknown land, he was the first to gain their favor, and was forever transformed into an immortal daemon prince with immense power. But the gods quickly realized they gave him too much power, and his ambition and evil proved a threat to their grand design. So Be'lakor has forever been cursed to be toyed with by the gods, his schemes for revenge and domination always thwarted. In Fantasy he was even forced to crown another person the everchosen, and watched that man literally destroy the world.

And if you like Richard Armitage's voice, he did the voice acting for Be'lakor in Total War Warhammer 3. Just saying.

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demontamerarts367 · 8 days ago

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Hehehe- Time to ramble yet again due to fictional stick figures >:3

I know yall wanted more rambles from me awhile ago from the poll and Im sorry that I haven't done on in a hot second ;-;

Any way the rambles are under the cut :]

Soooo- the new Mercenary Tryouts video came out a few days ago! And it still hasn't left my mind, mainly due to all of these guys making an appearance!

I feel like this is a big deal to me at least, since this almost confirms that Cier exists in the outernet! What is Cier? Well it is a continent where a bunch of sticks canonically live in, made by Hyun! If you want to know more you can look at this playlist! :D

And ima see where this could reasonably be placed in Hyuns Dojos timeline because this is my tumblr and I can do what I want.

Since Gilded is here I’m going to use him as the main thing to determine where this takes place!

Alright! Since Gilded is actually looking for work, judging by the fact he was interested by the fact he could get payed for fighting, imma say this takes place before the Dragon of Mar (since Gilded is far more stable at the end), it may also take place before Rock Hard Gladiator and vs Oxob since the both of them are there too, and those two stories are canonical back to back. So this could mean it might take place either before or after the Green Eyed Cowboy, this is very notable since its that episode where AvA is referenced.

Now if the content we see in AvAs Outernet is Cier or not, this could be very interesting as it could mean that other interactions with Hyuns Dojo and AvA are on the table.

Now are the continents we see the same? Maybe? I feel it might be too early to say if they are or not the same, there's still a lot we need to figure out, and I feel we don’t have a full understanding of the outernet, like if the outernet we see is just for Newgrounds or its a combination of all art related sites. If Cier is the continent we see in AvA then cool! If not, it might be a separate continent that sticks would usually visit like how we like visiting other countries lol!

Still I feel this has opened a lot of crossover opportunities in the future for both series, and i'm very hyped. :P

#demon talks #nerd moment #ava #animator vs animation #animation vs animator #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #ava shorts #avm #hyun's dojo #hyuns dojo #hyunsdojo #rock hard gladiators #rhg #crossover?

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knuppitalism-with-ue · 10 months ago

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The last piece for Lemuria Phase I

The peaks of Lemuria during the Cretaceous were often snow covered but in the valleys and on the plateaus animal and plant life can thrive. Here the last Refugium of stegosaurs lies.

THE LAST STEGOSAUR was one of the points on our clade list for the phase. And subsequently we got a lot of submissions with suggestions on who this species should look and where it should live. Unfortunately non of the submissions satisfied me completely, but many elements presented I liked a lot. So relatively early on I decided to turn this into a waste basket taxon. I chose 8 of my favarite designs and took parts of and puzzled them into a new genus that was named, on stream: Deimaximerror.

On Lemuria

Lemuria is a new spec evo project for and by the #paleostream community. Like the Atlantis project beforehand it deals with a fictional piece of land in 3 phases. Lemuria is an already existent concept that was invented before the recognition of plate tectonics to explain certain distribution patterns of animals and plants. In our case Lemuria is a continent consisting of India and Madagascar. We speculate how animals and plants would evolve if these two would never separate. This has MANY consequences. And the further we progress through time the more natural history will change. Phase one deals with the Cretaceous, when things are still rather "normal".

#paleoart #sciart #paleostream #cretaceous #spec evo #lemuria #lemuriachallenge #speculative biology #stegosaur

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redpenship · 5 months ago

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As requested, here is an edited version (although I left some stuff in that doesn't really need to be there, like the whole section on the NPT) of my paper on nuclear strategy in the Sonic Adventure series:

None of this is good, Vector. That’s why it’s called war.

- Knuckles the Echidna, in Sonic Forces (2017)

Sonic the Hedgehog is a very weird video game series.

(Author's note: the quality of this paper does not reflect the majority of my academic writing. It was for a 200-level (beginner's) English class wherein I was encouraged to do whatever I wanted and not worry about tone, topic, etc. I also wrote it in less than a day after having written 3 other papers the same week, and was suffering from sleep deprivation and brain fog while writing it. I have not included my references in this post because they were done in Chicago footnote format and don't paste into Tumblr well. If you want more info on anything I mention, I will gladly provide sources on said topics! Ty ty)

---

Sonic the Hedgehog is a very weird video game series.

This statement has nothing to do with its varying quality of gameplay. Sonic the Hedgehog is weird because its surface presentation as a colourful, furry-adjacent Dragon Ball rip-off disguises its extremely fascinating perspectives on warfare. The games frequently feature weapons of mass destruction in its stories, which allows for interesting analysis on the strategies used in-game and how it relates to American perspectives on nuclear war. The first game analyzed will be Sonic Adventure, which depicts an attempted nuclear strike on an American city. The second game analyzed will be Sonic Adventure 2, which features an attempt at WMD-boosted bargaining. These games will be used to answer the following research question: which side does Dr. Eggman take in the Borden-Brodie debate on nuclear weapons strategy?

As a brief explanation, the Borden-Brodie debate is about how nuclear weapons will actually be used in a nuclear war between two states. This debate emerged in the late 1940s and early 1950s, as theorists attempted to predict the future of war after the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Borden predicted that nuclear weapons would be used as “big artillery” to support regular military attacks, whereas Brodie predicted that the devastating effects of nuclear weapons would make war between two nuclear weapons states (NWS) inconceivable. Brodie appears to have won the debate as nuclear doctrine shifted to favour deterrence during the Cold War, but we must consider the following idea: perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, there has not been a conflict worth using them for just yet.

What is the geopolitical situation in Sonic the Hedgehog? Technically, the series takes place on Earth, but it’s a little different. Instead of the United States, there is the United Federation, instead of Greece there is Apotos, and instead of Africa there is Mazuri, because even the fun cartoon animal game cannot keep itself from generalizing the entire African continent into one entity. These countries are predominantly inhabited by humans, who live on the continents, and the animal-people (like Sonic and friends) live on small offshore islands. There has never been an explanation for why this separation exists, and while it could be fun to explore potential reasons, that is not the point of this paper!

Dr. Eggman typically begins his campaigns of world domination on these islands. He captures small animals to be used as batteries in his machines and builds extractive industrial plants, such as oil refineries and chemical plants. Sonic opposes him in the earlier games because he is harming the environment, and this has turned into a standard rivalry as the games have continued and Eggman’s evil plans have grown in scale. As soon as the games give the characters spoken dialogue in Sonic Adventure, Eggman’s schemes move away from resource extraction and towards using huge weapons and awakened ancient gods in order to conquer the planet. This is where the weapons of mass destruction come into play.

The first depiction of a WMD in Sonic the Hedgehog is in Sonic Adventure, where Eggman attempts to murder-suicide Station Square (in-universe San Francisco) by firing a submarine-launched ballistic missile (SLBM) at the city while he is still in it. He does this because he is upset that his plan failed, although perhaps he was attempting to show us mercy by wiping all the Silicon Valley bros off the face of the planet. Regardless of exact intention, his attempt to nuke Station Square says a lot about his perspective on nuclear war, which will be discussed below.

When dealing with an enemy, their perception of you and their own weapons are crucial to understand. The norm in nuclear doctrine is that nuclear weapons are used in retaliation to extremely high levels of threat. However, this has not always been the case—in the 1950s, they were generally perceived as really big bombs that could be used in combination with normal artillery. This theory was emphasized most by the radically anti-communist William Borden, also famous for testifying against Oppenheimer in his security clearance review, who argued that nuclear war will target military infrastructure and end when one side in the conflict has run out of weapons. Therefore, it is in the best interest of the United States to possess as many weapons as possible because it is the quantity they possess that will render them victorious. City-busting occurs after the war, when you are free to hurt your enemy’s civilian population without fear of retaliation. Or, perhaps, when you have nothing left to lose—which is exactly what happened in Eggman’s case.

Borden predicted that nuclear weapons states would disperse their launchers and military bases to make them harder to strike. He likewise predicted the use of nuclear missile-equipped submarines (SSBNs), which are used strategically for second strikes; submarines are hard to find, and can be positioned close to the enemy, making them very useful for retaliation. This is precisely in line with Eggman’s attack in Sonic Adventure 1, which used an SSBN close to the enemy’s civilian population as a last resort punishment after he incurred heavy losses. Whether or not this was a smart thing for Eggman to do is up in the air—the SLBM appeared to be an attempted surface burst on a city, which would actually minimize casualties when compared to an air burst detonation, so it is very likely that he cares more about building cool bombs than understanding how to use them properly—but it is clear that he is a champion of the Borden expectations of nuclear warfare nonetheless!

Eggman’s arguably insane, vengeful attack on Station Square stokes fears of nuclear armageddon that were hyper-present during the Cold War. Although he has been referred to as Dr. Eggman exclusively so far in this essay, this is not the case in Sonic Adventure—Tails, the character present in the city while the attack happens, refers to him as “Dr. Robotnik”. The character’s “real” name is Ivo Robotnik, which was given to him by American translators in lieu of “Eggman” when the classic games first released. It may not be surprising that American translators at the end of the Cold War decided to give an industrialist who primarily wears red an Eastern European sounding name. Russians are disproportionately featured as enemies in video games, eclipsing both the Axis Powers (typically Germany or Japan) and Arabs (as terrorists) in studied games. In wartime, framing one’s enemies as irrational is a core component of propaganda. Depicting someone named “Robotnik” as a self-driven madman who is willing to nuke an entire city when he loses feeds into assumptions that the enemies of the United States are not rational, which is then used to justify US hegemony on the international scene—someone has to keep these unruly states in line! This is especially true for the non-proliferation regime, which has been regarded by some states as neocolonial. India, a nuclear weapons state, has argued that the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons is discriminatory because it does not ban vertical proliferation. This stance generally purports that non-proliferation treaties are used to keep nuclear weapons out of “undesirable” hands while allowing nuclear weapons states to maintain and build on their own stockpile (vertical proliferation). Fears of certain states (such as Iran or North Korea) acquiring arsenals are presented as imminent dangers because enemies of the United States are always inherently irrational, and therefore cannot be trusted with such powerful weapons. The idea of “rationality” has been weaponized in service of white supremacy—and to a lesser extent, the patriarchy—for centuries and it should surprise no one that an international nonproliferation regime, largely built by and for states who were founded and are sustained on the premise of white supremacy, would prop up inequality and keep nuclear weapons only in the hands of those who “deserve” them. Although Russia is not a victim of this regime, it is frequently depicted as irrational and untrustworthy with nuclear weapons. Robotnik’s attack on Station Square is reminiscent of this rhetoric.

Of course, Sonic is a Japanese video game, which should grant it some leniency in the depiction of a nuclear attack as inherently irrational and violent. But for American players, who are meant to perceive this as an attack on a fictionalized version of their country, the implications are more specifically anti-Russian.

Sonic Adventure 2 flips this script a bit: as it would turn out, Eggman is American, and members of his extended family were killed in a coverup operation by the Sonic equivalent of the US military, Guardian Unit of Nations—typically abbreviated to GUN. His grandfather, Gerald Robotnik, was commissioned to research immortality and weapons of mass destruction aboard the space colony ARK. One of his creations was the Eclipse Cannon, a giant laser capable of destroying the planet.

Between games, Eggman has seemingly underwent the same attitude shift as every other NWS during the Cold War, because he has now discovered that WMDs can be used to threaten your enemies into getting what you want. On the ARK, Eggman activates the Eclipse Cannon and does the following:

1. Uses its laser to destroy part of the moon in a show of force;

2. Threatens to use it against the Earth unless he is crowned emperor of the planet;

3. Gives Earth 24 hours to accept.

Did Bernard Brodie predict the plot of Sonic Adventure 2? In his earliest work The Absolute Weapon, he argued that the absolute power of a nuclear bomb would make wars too costly to fight. The primary purpose for governments would therefore be to avoid war at all costs, since any of them could result in devastating nuclear war. Brodie also wrote many pieces laying out strategies of nuclear deterrence, which continue to be used to this day.

There is a common knee-jerk reaction to Eggman’s story that I see in fan discussions of the game. Many comments feature the following logic: “Why would Eggman blow up the planet he wants to rule? Either the writer is stupider than me, or Eggman is lying!” This is a very understandable way to perceive his threat with the Eclipse Cannon—why would someone make such an unreasonable threat? Does he really expect it to work? Who is going to buy this?

The game provides no insight into the general reaction to this by the world’s governments. However, Sonic and friends believe his threat right away, and race to the ARK to stop him. They are correct to do so—Eggman does end up trying to use the Eclipse Cannon against the Earth, but it does not work because Gerald Robotnik programmed it to fail if ever used. Therefore, we know that Eggman was not bluffing about his threat to destroy the planet at all. We know that he was actually going to do it. So, why do fans of the game continue to argue that Eggman’s threat was pointless?

Bernard Brodie’s concept of the absolute weapon has become the mainstream view of WMDs in the public consciousness. We fear nuclear weapons because of their destructive power and believe that no conflict could ever require their deployment. We believe other NWS hold the same concerns. This perspective is then projected onto Eggman by fans, who mistakenly assume he should foster the same feelings about WMDs. The assumption that Eggman was not willing to go through with his plan, or that the world’s governments would not surrender to him, requires Eggman to value his own life over the success of his empire. The first Sonic Adventure game has Eggman attempt to nuke a city he is standing in. A suicidal, last-ditch plan to take over the world is perfectly in-line with his character. What is the point of living if he cannot have his way? What is the point of a planet’s existence if he is not the one in charge? These are the questions driving Eggman’s decisions in the games.

Sonic Adventure 2 does not reject Brodie’s theories, but does provide a counterargument: deterrence breaks down when one’s ambitions outgrow the potential retaliation for acting upon them. Eggman’s dream of ruling the world was stronger than his will to live. Mortal terror was not enough to curb his imperial ambitions, and the Earth was almost destroyed as consequence of this perspective.

When the two games are measured against one another, it becomes apparent that Eggman has taken a very clear stance on the Borden-Brodie debate: he is a supporter of the Borden perspective on nuclear war! He does not believe in absolute deterrence and treats WMDs as usable tools in his arsenal, even at a potential detriment to himself. His actions in Sonic Adventure 2 align his views with one of Borden’s biggest theories: the winner of a nuclear war will not be the state who inflicts the most damage on their enemy, but rather the one who does not run out of nuclear weapons first. Eggman is determined to be the last one standing—even if it means standing alone atop the ashes of the world.

#sonic the hedgehog #this is honestly just a long shitpost pls do not take it super seriously #redposts

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