#vision pro?

[faeriekit]

"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."

The body didn't move.

"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."

And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.

Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.

The dead body sat up.

Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"

Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.

Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.

"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."

The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.

"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."

The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.

It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.

The whole fic on ao3

[bixels]

I watched Starship Troopers tonight.

[rayray-razorblade]

I JUST MADE AN ABSOLUTELY HORRID YET HILARIOUS REALIZATION.

THE SUNGLASSES.

THEYRE BECOMING REAL.

[talkingpotato]

A lot of people can eat both tacos and spaghetti while driving now! (We all know where this is going)

[whydidisavethistomyphone]

[humanoidhistory]

VR at NASA's Ames Research Center, 1989.

[alishaaxo]

the amount of gwayne fans who dislike criston is killing me…. 😡😡😡

like wdym u dont ship them?? wdym u dont want them to be in a buddy-cop comedy au roadtrip where they fall in love??? 🤯🤯

wdym u don’t see the angst of a dornish-blooded man honour-bond to duty falling to a man who is conflicted due to their gender, criston’s race.. and cristons vows of celibacy?????

its so iconic and its a shame ppl dont see the vision 😭😭

[sistertonin]

seth rollins and bianca belair are so bratz doll coded

[antianakin]

"Sith" and "Screecher's Reach" both show that it is in fact perfectly possible to do stories from a Sith perspective without bashing the Jedi. It is in fact possible to tell a story about a Sith character without even having to INCLUDE the Jedi in it and simply focus on the Sith characters and their journeys. It's even possible to have a multitude of different stories told about Sith without ever touching on the Jedi AT ALL.

"Sith" tells the story of someone who's left that life behind and the triumph she has when she finally is willing to acknowledge her own darkness and control it. "Screecher's Reach" tells the story of a legacy of pain and abuse passed down from Master to apprentice and how the Sith expertly take advantage of other people's fears to twist them into monsters. One ends hopefully, the other is a pyrrhic victory. They're totally different genres with entirely different endings.

And neither one felt the need to criticize the Jedi "from the Sith's perspective" in order to tell a compelling Sith story. Imagine that.

[yaralulu]

Headcanon that lucien has started experimenting and wearing human clothes because it’s more convenient than just sticking to his spring/night clothes.He was a little apprehensive about it at first but once he got everything tailored and started styling the clothes he felt more confident about wearing them outside of the mortal lands.One day he shows up to the river house wearing said human clothes and elain loses her shit.She can not stop staring at him because he looks absolutely exquisite and she’s never seen human clothes look so damn good.

[sctumsempra]

ravens and bats and the disliked professors

[beardedmrbean]

His dad would be so proud of him

[offtorivendell]

Elain Archeron Week, Day 1: Visions

I've theorised before about how I think Elain's powers - specifically her Sight, but possibly other aspects of her magic, too - might work, with regards to her murky realm/the Void, the effects of light and even magical medicinals (could witchberries play a part instead of bloodbane?) so today I want to talk a little about why I think having such a useful power could be so meaningful for Elain.

ACOSF suggested that Elain was raised by Mama Archeron to have no independent thought; no dreams of her own, no goals bigger than her garden. She was to be the family's pawn on the marriage mart in their quest for power. Valued for her looks alone, not for what she could do.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match. Nesta had been twelve at the time. Elain barely eleven. She’d absorbed every word of her mother’s scheming, plans for futures that had never come to pass. - ACOSF, chapter 17

And then Azriel said this...

But Azriel asked softly, taking a single step over the threshold and into the sitting room, “What other?” Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. “The queen—with the feathers of flame.” The shadowsinger angled his head. Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” - ACOWAR, chapter 32

Besides the fact that Sight must be an incredibly difficult power to navigate at the best of times, I will always wonder how much it meant to Elain to hear she was needed for a skill. Something she could work at and contribute that went beyond the looks she was born with. Something that could - and did - allow her to prove her mother wrong when her own "maneuverings" saved lives at the end of ACOWAR.

Even before Elain understood what was happening, while she was still lost in her murky realm, she tried to use her visions to warn/help her family. One of her biggest contributions being her untrained doe eyes peering across the world, leading Feyre to the Suriel in ACOWAR, then of course everything that followed when she ignored orders to return to camp and ended up killing the King of Hybern and saving Nesta and Cassian, and massively weakening Hybern's army.

Our trembling fawn has a backbone of steel, I can't wait for her to shine and grow in her own book. 🌿

@elainarcheronweek

[lifein360p]

[briaberri]

“I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

Weeks of not knowing reality from madness. Objectively terrifying. This was a regular person, suddenly tormented by the perception of all, and no anchor. Till one looked, and cut through the haunting -- one.

"⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not…Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed."