#sure sure world ending armageddon whatnot

[thelilylav]

Crowley really got kicked out of heaven and just hasn’t got a day off since huh

#like why is he always going through something #sure sure world ending armageddon whatnot #but this man saw his best friend die #drove through fire #lost his car baby #got rejected in the worst failgirl way possible #AND had to live through that haircut in the job episode #he has been through e n o u g h #good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens s2

[phantomram-b00]

*clap hand and sigh* Look I should not be up at this hour (I was up at 5 am writing this) or posting since I don’t want to accidentally get myself shadowbanned or whatnot (I do have another good omens post coming up regarding metatron so stay tone for that). But I saw like some post regarding how Aziraphale doesn’t love Crowley as much/Azirpahale never did anything for Crowley. And it been wracking my brain because, did we not watch the same show? (I would say book but I’m still reading it)

Look before i continue, I do think we all have opinions, that’s valid. I just want to say my two cent since I can’t find myself agree with those claims.

But imma give Crowley his flowers because this soft demonic husband deserve it, yes, he done stuff for Aziraphale. Some that can risk him getting destroyed by hell such as saving the literal angel of eastern gate. He’s take him out for lunch, help him whenever Aziraphale ask him too. If there was a way to describe the love language “act of service” that’s Crowley to the absolute T. So I don’t think we can deny that fact about him, but Crowley would absolutely disagree with the fact that Azirpahale has done nothing for him consider the fact that there evidence and implication that Aziraphale done stuff for him.

In episode 3 of season 1, during the Shakespearean era segment, it was said that they do each other blessing and temptations since as Crowley stated “they don’t care how it done as long as they can cross it off the list” so who know how many temptation/blessing Crowley and Aziraphale did for each other, (lowkey I would love to see how Aziraphale does temptation, i miss this part as I’m rewatching GO for the metatron post coming up I don’t know how I missed that part but now that I discover this, make me think). The point is, this is one of many indication that Aziraphale does help Crowley.

Same episode, Holy Water, now this is the prime indication that I think we can all agree (or not, I’m just a phantom writing this blog). Now, before, can we see just how Aziraphale didn’t say “oh I can’t give this to you because I’ll get in trouble” no he said “it will destroy you”; that show just how he cares about Crowley, he doesn’t care about his job or that he was breaking the rules no no his main concern was Crowley. Sure he did after words when mention “fraternizing” (which honestly Crowley, me too I would be mad too if fraternize was used. But I can understand why Aziraphale said that as well.) but Crowley put Aziraphale in a difficult position, because while sure maybe Aziraphale could give him holy water but that would be not only breaking protocol but also giving him worry because given this happen after Elspeth episode, of course his mind will be concern of this whole thing. Especially with him saying “if anything goes pear-shaped”. And you know in 1967, he does give it to him overall, regardless of what he said. Because at least imo, he learn that he has to trust him. Just like how Crowley trusted him in 1941 with the magic show (remember this.) he trusting him here.

Okay now this is mostly all of season 1/2 before I mention what he’ve done for Crowley in season 2. The fact that Aziraphale help Crowley try to stop armageddon. Now you might be saying one or two things “Phantom, he back out in episode 3” or even “um, but it was mutual?” And you know you’re right on both those points. He did back out and it was mutual, but it still an example of doing something for Crowley. Why? Because they both love earth, they would do anything to preserve earth. Not only that, they can’t bare the idea of having to fight each other in this celestial war let alone the idea of one of them getting hurt. So they would not have gone through with this end of the world stick if it mean that they lost everything, now Crowley did agree with armageddon on general terms as God said in episode 1, season 1. BUT, actually doing it and going through with it is a different playing field and Crowley nor Aziraphale don’t want to lose everything they love (especially each other). Now it did take a lot of convincing, most because Azirpahale want to stop it more than Crowley but there one thing that is holding him back or make him scared to go against them: Heaven.

It kinda like an analogy where, say, you’re getting bullied or say that you’re dealing with an toxic family member, boss, whoever. And you yourself know they’re toxic, and you have people who can tell you “stand up to them” or “don’t let them get to you, tell them off”. And you can agree and try to build courage. But actually doing it is as the famous saying goes “easier said then done”, and Aziraphale would rather just put a fake smile and try to make everything look good so that he doesn’t get reprimanded by heaven, he doesn’t have Crowley’s confidence which I have this feeling most people forget about. Sure, Aziraphale have all rights to tell them off after the shit we the audience see or hear them do to him, or what Aziraphale had to allow happen, such as the flood for example or witnessing the crucifixion of Jesus Christ or even the fact that they almost killed him with hellfire, just because he wanted to save the universe. (Also the fact that it might have been implied that they drill into his head that if he ever does anything against God’s “plan”, he will fall like Lucifer or any of the other angels). But he can’t. Which is why he back out at first, because he was terrified that he would get in trouble or fall. (Which. Without saying much, I kinda would’ve done the same in fear.) and you can see it in his eyes, that he want more than anything to run away, yet, he still trying to push it down. Bottle it up if you will as his effort to try to back out. Now of course as we all saw how season one ended, he did ended up saving the world after all and I think Aziraphale and Crowley would do it again so they can be on their own side. So Aziraphale did hold his end of the bargain when it came to saving the world which is why I’m including this in my argument because yes this is mutual, Aziraphale still pull through with not just the help of Crowley but with Agnes Nutter’s book and Adam himself.

Now imma go with season 2, which is “season of love” as Rent would say.

Now, we love it, we cried about it, or we want to rip metatron a new asshole (which imma just say, I have never seen a fandom have this much togetherness of hating a character since GOT with Joffrey. But I’m all in, I hate him in season 1, season 2 just made me hate him more. But I will say, Derek Jacobi is doing a phenomenal as him and I can’t wait to see what season 3 will have with Metatron.) but I digress, let continue this rant.

Episode 2, season 2, is the episode that solidified many things for me. But let get to the point, Aziraphale could’ve stop Crowley from “killing everything job worked hard for” but he was gonna let him do it because Heaven said “oh yeah we decided to make this poor man lose everything because we wanted to win a bet with Satan.” But seeing how Crowley didn’t actually kill the goats, made Aziraphale happy, and in a sense began trusting Crowley’s process here. Even when Crowley set the house on fire and turn the kids into gecko, he still trusted him. And sure enough, everything work out at the end as Aziraphale help him through this plan on giving Job back his kids (even though heaven was gonna make job’s wife give birth to seven more kids. Which my crotch hurts from hearing that-). Sure Azirpahale had doubts and had a breakdown, but given as I mention earlier and how he’s the only angel (maybe besides Muriel) that have a conscience and broke a rule by giving away the sword, he have conflicting views but also is trying not to have a conscience to fit in with the angels and follow their lead despite he was never seen as an equal. But this still is example never the less as if Aziraphale didn’t do something thing would’ve ended different.

Now imma get to the one that is probably another prime example of Aziraphale doing something for Crowley, is the magic show (or at last the minisode in episode 4). After Crowley saved Aziraphale, he had to go to deliver something for the black market, and seeing his item was destroyed (most likely from the bomb), he got reprimanded by Mrs Henderson. And on Crowley’s behalf, Aziraphale decided to volunteer as a magician. He even bought the gun to do a show stopping trick so that it can impress her and not reprimand Crowley any longer (but of course just an excuse to do magic, which me too. I love magic). Now Crowley did have his concerns especially with the gun and also that Aziraphale never done this in front of many people. But this episode, they both have to trust each other, Crowley with the magic trick and Aziraphale trusting Crowley with not just the gun but he trust that he would never hurt him.

Now I’m sure I’m forgetting more with season two (mostly because i still rewatching it starting from season 1, so let me know if you think there were other example of Azirpahale doing stuff for Crowley. Whether it was from season 1/2.)

But I think also the other thing is that, they actively protect each other from their side, they keep their friendship a secret. They swap bodies to not get burn by holy water/hellfire. And much more, so I dislike it when people think Aziraphale done nothing for Crowley when he ultimately have. Sure it seem Crowley does stuff more for aziraphale, but we can’t pretend like he didn’t do anything at all and I’m pretty sure he would done more for him if it wasn’t for heaven constantly being in the way.

As for the love point, imma say this, people show love differently. Why do you think we have so many ship dynamic and it usually two with either similar/opposite contrasting with the other love interest. Aziraphale show love in a different way, now I’ve seen people say that aziraphale love language would be physical touch, which, I think make sense considering he did held Crowley’s hand and we’ve all seen the amount of time he touched Crowley. However what if I told you his love language was Quality time? Because, Aziraphale usually talk about “oh why not have a picnic” or whenever Crowley offers lunch, he lights up. Or of course when Aziraphale tries to convince Crowley to use the Bentley he said “just like how that bookshop is technically mine but we get quite a use of it.” Or perhaps, whenever they’re with each other; Aziraphale have a smile. (Even when sometimes he tries to hide it, I love smiles). He can’t go a day without Crowley despite that they always been separate from each decade but I have my feelings that whenever they separate, Aziraphale feel a bit lost without him, not to say he doesn’t have other things but we all miss your best friend/crush/soulmate/etc, and Crowley most definitely does too. (Also who want to bet that most of the diary entry involve Crowley if not just an entire entry is like “dear diary, did you know Crowley’s yellow eyes are my favorite aspect and that’s why I love the color yellow-“ but I’m detailing here my bad.)

But another thing is that, I feel people who say that, don’t understand what it like having to hide yourself but have someone or something drilling to your head and is constantly reminding you that “you can’t love them because xyz” or most noteworthy, don’t know how toxic environment expect an individual. Because Aziraphale does love him he would do anything to be with Crowley, but heaven is not only what is ultimately holding him back, it him himself. He got this promotion and he toke it, (with the mention that he didn’t want to go until Crowley was brought into the picture) and now he knows that the second coming is well. Coming. And now he has to try to save earth, just without Crowley this time. Now why I’m bringing this up? Well, because you can see him once again pushing away any part of him that is telling him to go to Crowley or be by his side, it the same thing as episode 3 when he did tried to back out because of heaven, it the same thing here only heaven really got to him, heaven showed an inch (and I mean an little inch) of kindness and a promising deal and he was on board. But that cause him to “lose” Crowley (and I’m saying lose in quotation because I don’t think he really lose or that this is a divorce, I just more or less think Crowley just can’t trust Aziraphale this time with this plan and pull his support of the table). So now he have to revert back to his old ways to try to make sure the world won’t end again for not just humanity but for Crowley as well, and this is probably another example of Aziraphale doing something for Crowley and show that he love him, even if this decision caused him Crowley ultimately. I’m sure he wishes whenever he read a Jane Austen or any love stories (with happy endings.) that that can be Crowley and him; no worries, no heaven and hell, nothing. Just them basking in their love and have no worries. But he know that might not be achievable. (Oh how cruel Cupid/God can be.)

I going to reiterate this again, everyone have their own valid opinion regarding this. I just needed to get my two cent since I hate when people think they’re toxic when they’re not. Both and yes I do mean Aziraphale and Crowley, do have their flaws that need mending but no way they’re toxic by any means. Truly if they were this toxic, why would Michael sheen be liking ineffable husband fanart, why would Neil Gaiman say it a love story between them, or better yet, why would these two be friends if they were toxic? Do they have flaws that need working on? yes of course no relationship is 100% perfect. Will Crowley forgive him so easily? No, I wouldn’t think so, I’m not saying Aziraphale is wrong with what he choose but the fact that he didn’t take him or the bookshop into consideration that gonna take some time to heal. (I promise I’ll make a Crowley post, I do love Crowley too, it just Azirpahale my all time favorite and I kin this character. But I promise someday I will give best boy his time to shine I just need to find a topic for him.)

Okay, i think that’s the post for today, OH! And also happy spooky season! It about to be Halloween! I love halloween! So I hope you all have a good October, and don’t worry more post will come I’m just trying to make sure I don’t accidentally shadowban myself or be annoying with my post lmao. But tell me what you think? Do you agree? Disagree? Let me know ^^ all your options,questions, and statements are valid ❤️

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #good omens fandom #i’m rambling because i say so #aziracrow #this show is my bread and butter and i eat it up everytime #I love this show 😭

[adultswim2021]

Metalocalypse #21: “Dethecution” | September 23, 2007 - 11:45PM | S02E01

Admittedly I could use a break from the likes of Robot Chicken, Frisky Dingo, and Lucy, The Daughter of the Devil. These shows all share one thing common: they’re a bit sub-par. Metalocalypse is a stone-cold classic comparatively. I could some lighter fare, but I’ll take this happily.

I didn’t really watch season one too closely, but I did catch up with the show by the time season two rolled around. I didn’t exactly binge it right before this season premiere, so I remembered being hazy on how season one ended. I thought the titular “Metalocalypse” had actually begun and that season two would become a fantastical supernatural show about the ensuing armageddon. I’m even having trouble recalling it as we speak; I just remembered it was somehow staved off by the end of the episode. This detail eluded me the first time I watched this episode, and I thought maybe they were retconning the events by opening the show with the Admiral having blacked out and not remembering the events. 

This episode is about Dethklok being lured out of seclusion to play a special concert where they’d get to devise a mass execution of some of the world’s most violent and dangerous criminals as part of their stage show. They can’t resist this, because it sounds so brutal and badass. This includes a fair amount of news coverage of a nasty criminal whose claim to fame was murdering and eating over 200 babies and toddlers. As a matter of fact, the only thing I clearly remembered from this episode was the credits-scene of this man, having escaped prison, about to dine on a live, squirming baby. It’s pretty memorable, and darkly funny when the baby sorta mildly tries to play with the carving knife the man is about plunge into the kid’s abdomen. Sicko stuff for sure, but what do you expect!

Oh yeah, he escapes along with countless other inmates, after a mishap involving Dethklok’s mace-dispensing codpieces blind the driver of their giant moving stage, causing the prison to be destroyed and many criminals to escape. 

A lotta great, brutal moments in this, like the parts when body parts rain from the sky and konk people, or the scene where the president attempts suicide only to survive minus one jaw. Like always, little details like this are where the show shines. One of my favorite parts is when they show a photo of the baby killer guy surrounded by small children; it’s just so creepy and realistically awkward. You gotta respect it. 

The characters are also done well in this; at the end of the episode the band are literally only concerned with shallow details about their stage design and wardrobe and whatnot. They do not care even a little bit about causing mass mayhem. 

I remembered this episode sorta not-fondly, but I found it to be pretty solid on this rewatch. Maybe my expectations were low. Maybe I just missed my boys. But this is better than what I’ve been subjected to lately, that’s for sure.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #metalocalypse

[yesterdanereviews]

Moonfall (2022)

Film review #573

Director: Roland Emmerich

SYNOPSIS: K.C. Houseman, a conspiracy theorist, uses a research telescope to confirm his suspicions that the moon's orbit is changing and moving closer to Earth, and will eventually collide with it. NASA eventually confirm the findings and mass panic ensues. They send a rocket up to the moon to investigate, but the shuttle is attacked by a mysterious entity. Brian, an astronaut who was fired in disgrace after a space mission he was on was similarly attacked and no one believed him, leaving his reputation destroyed, is now tasked with one more mission to try and stop the moon from destroying the Earth...

THOUGHTS/ANALYSIS: Moonfall is a 2022 sci-fi disaster film. The plot, unsurprisingly, revolves around the moon falling to Earth. Conspiracy theorist K.C. Houseman, who believes that the moon is a artificial superstructure, and its orbit is decaying. It turns out he is right, and when NASA confirms it, mass panic sets in across the world. A shuttle mission to investigate the moon is attacked by a strange entity, and destroyed. It turns out to be the same entity former astronaut Brian Harper claimed attacked his mission ten years before, but as no one believed him, and was sacked and his reputation tarnished. His former crewmate Jocinda Fowler, who is now deputy director of NASA, recruits him to lead one more mission to the moon to try and correct the moon's orbit before it collides with the Earth. The film is quite simply a combination of the films Armageddon and Independence Day. In fact, the director Roland Emmerich also directed the latter, so I'm pretty sure it was deliberate. The realism of a disaster film just doesn't work well with the plot about aliens and rogue AI and whatnot, and a lot of stuff is just skimmed over. A lot of the plot points make very little sense, such as why the A.I....thing would just hide in the moon and try to bring it down, rather than attack the planet directly if that it was aiming to do. There doesn't feel like there's much of an attempt for the film to carve out its own identity, rather just picking bits from what previous films have done successfully. Then again, the sheer cheesiness of the plot and setups might make for mindless, entertaining viewing, but it's definitely hard to take it seriously.

The characters are all fairly cookie-cutter with nothing really distinguishable. Brian and Jocinda are just very standard lead roles, and K.C. Houseman provides the comic relief with one-liners that aren't memorable or really funny. The trailer for the film has him respond with a quip after every scene or serious moment without rest, and while it's okay to lighten the mood once in a while, doing this constantly really stops the suspense and story dead in its tracks. The characters also have their own families who are trying to get to safety, providing a perspective from "ordinary" people on the disaster that is unfolding: again, just like Independence Day. None of these characters stand out in particular, and their scenes feel like they're there to pad out the runtime. With the film coming in over two hours and ten minutes, the film definitely feels padded.

When the mission makes it to the inside of the Moon, they discover the inside is a Dyson Sphere: a man made structure with a white dwarf star housed inside to power it. We are also treated to a lengthy exposition about how humans once existed on another planet but were destroyed by a rogue A.I., so these superstructures were sent to potential habitable planets to populate them with the DNA of human life, but the A.I. thing (I don't really know what it is) has now found Earth and is causing the moon to fall to destroy the humans. It's nothing you haven't heard or seen before, and lumping in all this stuff near the end does detract from the disaster theme a little. The ending feels like it's very much on auto-pilot, as Brian encounters a "good A.I." or something, and somehow now knows how to pilot around the superstructure to destroy the bad A.I., which ruins any kind of tension in the climax. In terms of effects and CG, it's actually not too bad: you get a good sense of the scale of destruction in the landscape shots, but the effects of the Moon's effect on gravity is entirely inconsistent throughout, and it can mostly be explained away as it's for the purpose of the plot. Anyway, Moonfall is a mash-up of what you've seen before, with Roland Emmerich doing exactly what you expect in producing an over-the-top disaster film with a very typical cast of characters. It's plot is all over the place, and is completely implausible most of the time. It is a brainless, cheesy sci-fi film that may serve as a silly ride that might entertain, but you're going to struggle to believe anything in the movie is plausible.

#movie #movie review #moonfall #sci-fi #disaster film #film #film review #2022 film

[monsterfuneral]

sparks in the rain | bill and ted | ch. 2

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Coming Soon

Relationship: Poly!Bill and Ted x Fem!Reader

Summary: A malfunction with the booth lands Bill and Ted into the most peculiar situation they’ve been in, stuck in the year 2021 standing in front of a woman they never thought they’d meet. 

Words: 1.5

Warnings/Tags: nothing

Author’s Note: After like actually outlining this a little more, I think this story will end up being one of my favorites I’ve written.

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

---

This was the most unusual day for both Bill and Ted. Sure they had experienced mishaps with the booth, and sure they had also met people that they vaguely knew about. But they had never met someone that knew about them. Especially when it came to an on screen babe like Armageddon Lady, who had totally been Bill’s biggest crush for a majority of his teenage years. Not that he’d admit that to anyone other than Ted though. And here she was in the weirdest of coincidences, standing right in front of them. 

“What?” Ted asked dumbly as he heard the girl in front of them blurt their names. His brain struggled to keep up with the situation. 

“Dude she totally knows who we are somehow!” Bill said with an almost starstruck look on his face, his eyes sparkling in amazement. 

You stayed silent though, staring at them like a deer in the headlights. Your mouth agape as you, like Ted, tried to process what you was going on. While running into celebrities in the middle of your apartment complex was one thing that would never happen, seeing two movie characters that you liked standing just seven feet away from you was next to impossible… No it was impossible. 

You had to be dreaming still. A very vivid dream where you were going to the crafts store to pick up a new set of markers, before suddenly running into Bill and Ted of all people... In a dream. There was literally no other logical explanation. 

“Woah, you look like you’re going to hurl, Miss. Armageddon Lady, dude- babe.” Bill stumbled on his words like a nervous child talking to his first crush. Which honestly wasn’t far from the truth. 

“I- This isn’t real.” You concluded, finally removing your hand from inside of your purse and straightening your back. You were almost tempted to just turn around and walk back into your apartment, but you didn’t. Instead you thought over the jumbled words Bill had said to you, something sticking out more than anything else. “Why do you keep calling me that?” You asked, your brows drawing together as you looked at the blonde for answers who looked at you with widened eyes. 

Ted suddenly remembered something Rufus had told them not too long ago, alternative universes and whatnot, where things are different from their world but can also connect somehow. He talked about how sometimes the booth can malfunction and send them rocking into another circuit without them even noticing. That’s probably how they ended up here! 

“Bill... I don’t think we’re in our world anymore.” Ted chimed before Bill could even attempt to come up with a sufficient answer that would satisfy you. 

“What?” Bill asked, looking up at Ted. 

“Yeah! Remember the thing Rufus told us a few months back?” 

“Don’t over-tighten the guitar strings because they could break?” Bill answered, bringing up an entirely different conversation they had with Rufus. 

Ted shook his head looking behind his shoulder and to the still sparking booth “No dude! The whole alternate dimension thingy.” 

“OH YEAH!” 

You watched the both of them converse, your own brain still trying to catch up with the bizarre situation, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream. You tried pinching your arm a few times, at least testing it out to see if that trick even worked, but you were still standing in the same place right in front of them. It was all so much to process at once and so early in the day, even though it may have been 11am, it was still too much. 

“So you really didn’t put in the wrong number then.” 

“I told you so Bill!” 

They paused, smiling at each other before both shouting “Excellent!” in unison before air guitaring. The action was all too familiar but unfortunately missed the overlapping guitar that would play when they did it. Both boys stared at each other for a second afterwards, beaming smiles still ontheir faces. Their stare lasted a beat longer than you were used to seeing on screen. 

A shiver wracked through your body, the jacket you had not shielding you from the cold that the rain brought like you had hoped it would. You clutched your arms, pulling them a little tighter to your chest. It only continued to solidify the fact that this was probably real and not a dream at all, like you had thought. I mean, sure you had considered the possibility of fictional universes being real, who hasn’t? But it was just a theory you played into half-heartedly but never considered it to actually be true. 

A hand waved in front of your face, jolting from your deep train of thought where everything you previously thought was impossible could be and it was just too much. Reality as you knew it was both expanding and collapsing all at the same time. 

“You good, other dimension babe?” Bill asked, a small smile on his face as you stared at him with wide eyes.

Ted tilted his head as he watched you curiously. Sure you looked like Armageddon Lady and her actress, but you were neither, you just looked like them. He had an easier time accepting this as a reality than you did though, already having his experience with the impossible. But you looked like you were about to explode from the overload of information. He felt sympathetic. He thought back to a conversation he had with Rufus a year after their first time traveling in the booth, remembering how Rufus told him how he had seen others cope with the discovery of time travel, how some people just could not handle the information and it literally drove them to insanity. Ted would feel like such a dick if that happened to you, even if he didn’t know you. 

“I-” You started, abruptly stopping as you tried to piece your words together “I think so?” You clutched the strap to your purse a little harder, blunt nails digging into the leather slightly “This is all just… A lot to process.” 

“That’s okay!” Ted reassured softly with a wide grin, his hair falling in front of his eyes slightly as he nodded and looked down at Bill who was also nodding along. 

Your fingers were starting to feel numb and you shifted on your feet for the first time since you were stopped in your tracks. Your knees felt stiff from not moving for so long and you were shaking a lot more than you thought, the cold starting to deep into your bones and making your teeth chatter. You were sure they weren’t feeling any better as they were both wearing short sleeved shirts, and Bill was wearing a crop top. 

“I know you guys don’t know me but it’s freezing out here and it’s supposed to get colder.” You said looking back at your apartment door, trying to draw your coat closer around you “Would you like to come inside? I can make some coffee-” You watched Bill pull a face at the mention of the bitter beverage “Or some hot chocolate, up to you.” 

“Sounds great.” Ted answered, glancing behind him once more at the booth before back at you, “Lead the way!” 

The warmth of your apartment was more welcoming than the quickly dropping temperature outside. The rain clouds had left the sky dark and your living room was close to being pitch black. You carefully maneuvered past the couch and over the bean bags that were carelessly strewn across the floor in front of the TV stand. You felt for the pull-chain underneath the lamp shade, the black tassels tickling against your forearm. Finally your fingers grasped around the thin chain, gently yanking it and letting the light finally fill most of the room. The large leg lamp glowed on the small table tucked in the corner of your living room. A lovely gag gift you had been rewarded on christmas a year or two before at a friend’s party. While A Christmas Story was very much an overplayed movie on the holiday’s and certainly not your favorite, you still enjoyed the gift. Finding it pretty cool that someone had gone through the effort of getting something like this as the winner’s gift.

“Woah...” One of the boy’s muttered from behind your couch. You turned around and gave them a small smile, walking over to the other side of the living room to turn on the other lamp so the room was fully lit up and you weren’t going to trip over your own feet by accident. 

“Pretty neat huh?” You asked, always finding people’s reactions to the infamous lamp rather funny.

They both looked at you simultaneously, their eyes sparkling in wonder.

“You’re so cool…” Ted whispered. 

You let out a quiet laugh, trying to push down the heat that had suddenly started to rise up your neck, to your cheeks, and finally finishing at your ears. Never in your life did you think you could be receiving praise from Ted Theodore Logan himself. This really felt like it was too good to be true. 

“Thanks.” You replied, turning your back to them so they didn’t catch on to your flustered state. “So, how about that hot chocolate?” You asked, walking over to the white cabinet that held your collection of mugs.

#bill bnt #ted bnt #bill and ted #bill s preston x reader #bill s preston imagine #bill s preston esquire #ted theodore logan x reader #ted theodore logan imagine #ted theodore logan #bnt imagine #bnt x reader #monster writes

[artxmisery]

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okie dokie i'm a month late to this but WHATEVER time to talk about destiny stuff this will be a not-insignificant length so i'm gonna put the rest under a read more

ok i wanna talk about the vex but there are a few things to get through first quick background on the cosmology of destiny: there are two primordial forces, the gardener and the winnower, representing light and dark respectively. they existed before time and the universe as we know it in a place hereafter referred to as the first garden. in the garden (which is not a garden and not the only garden significant to this post) the two played the flower game. basically a big ol version of conway's game of life. however, they were also not playing the flower game? and just normally gardening in a metaphysical way. but back to the flower game. in the unveiling lore book, the winnower speaks to the player directly and a bunch of this info is from there. conway's game of life resembles their flower game "as a seed resembles the star that fed the flower and all the life that made it." it's not 100% clear whether each flower is a universe of its own or just a nebulous piece of cosmically important information, but the flowers are super important. flowers come back repeatedly as a symbol of the winnower, especially red flowers. another big concept in the grander story of the game is the final shape, i.e. the thing that will conquer the universe and be the last thing that exists as it ends. it's the ultimate following of the sword logic (which isn't particularly important here, basically just might makes right but on magic steroids) and lots of people are trying to be it or figure out what it is. what we, the players, know is that there was a successful pattern in the flower game that always won. in other words, the final shape. in the aforementioned unveiling lore book, we learned that this pattern survived the destruction of the first garden that lead to the creation of our universe. the details of that conflict aren't important here (although i'd recommend reading the unveiling lore book if this is at all interesting to you) but that pattern managed to make it out. for the first however long of the universe, it was basically just an untethered mathematical pattern running around in the quantum foam. as the universe cooled down and coalesced it turned into crystals in the water of comets, which then provided a space for them to become something like life. from there, they fell into the ocean(s) of planet(s) (details on whether they appeared in parallel or just once aren't super clear or conflicting). from here we need to go on a slight tangent to keep talking about the biological origins of the vex. there's this huge company that existed during the golden age called clovis bray, named after the dude who founded it, clovis bray i. basically, this guy is space jeff bezos but arguably more shitty. he wants to become immortal and experimented on his son, clovis bray ii, but ended up killing him in the process. i think you can see how much of an egomaniac he is at this point lol. on the moon, there was a group of scientists that found an anomaly connected to the darkness/winnower (a similar artefact is what we got the unveiling book from) that drove them mad with the signal it was trying to send. clovis gets wind of it, hears the signal and flies off to europa. the signal told him he'd find the secret to immortality there (and he did, sort of). part of said secret was the vex. during the golden age the vex were found/appeared/started existing but they weren't the enemy we've faced in the modern game, they were just curious. clovis steals a vex unit from the ishtar collective on venus (might come back to them later) and brings it to europa. it builds-organizes-forms a gateway to somewhere else. that somewhere else is volantis 2082. clovis goes through the gateway and discovers a solar system entirely converted into a forge. the star is engorged and being sustained with hydrogen in order to make metals. it's surrounded by a bunch of artificial satellite worlds where the vex are n where clovis and co ended up. anywho this is where clovis gets a closer look at the vex. so from him, we've got a more concrete idea of how they got from crystals in comets to the time-travelling robots we know and love. back to the biology stuff. basically the environment the vex evolved in was way earlier than our own, so heavy metals were so rare as to be nonexistent and harmful radiation was way more prevalent. because of this, predators never evolved from the vex. they just kept cooperating and feeding off cosmic radiation and whatnot. to protect themselves, they started making "armour", perhaps some sort of gel membrane initially? but then they started forming it out of silica, which is why their fluid is called radiolarian fluid and milky white. the vex continued to cooperate and developed more and more complex swarm behaviours, signalling different facts with different configurations of cells and structures. they aren't necessary sentient or sapient, but they definitely have cognition and intelligence. their way of thinking is so alien to us as to be undefinable. they also don't have a hive mind, per se, but their pattern is so fully repeated and embodied by each unit and larger mind that they work similarly. anyhow, their silica armour was further adapted into tools and structures ad infinitum, moving on to more durable materials as the collective knowledge of the vex increased. now, the vex don't necessarily have desires or goals or anything of the sort. their entire m.o. is to make everything fit the pattern. because they first evolved from that mathematical pattern from before time, they're able to exist as nothing more than information and then hijack matter to make more of themselves. clovis found this out the hard way, cause the vex started travelling through their calls and messages and stuff (and started infecting people, too). the vex are also extremely adept at simulating stuff since there's effectively no difference between a simulation of their pattern and the pattern itself (this comes up a la weeping angels once or twice). they are so good at it, in fact, that they can simulate nigh-infinite realities within their pattern. the simulations are equally as real as baseline reality and through that (i think?) are able to time travel and hop across timelines. that may be how they ended up in our solar system during the golden age. luckily for us, they're not perfect at it, otherwise, they would have always had won (wheeeee time tomfoolery). originally their goal was thought to be writing themselves into the rules of the universe and while that may still be part of it, they're also basically trying to make everything else vex. we have two examples of them turning whole worlds into vex machines/structures, one of which happened in like three days during the collapse (the darkness armageddon that ended the golden age). their architecture is super cool, highly recommend checking out concept art or in-game footage. the whole vex network spans an incomprehensible distance, although we don't have an exact number on that. they come into systems and build beachheads and pull themselves through space and time into the system. on mercury, which was what got converted in three days, they basically turned the whole planet into a giant simulation engine. they have some ridiculous teleportation technology and their weapons pull energy from distant stars through tiny gates. they've also got weapons like the vex mythoclast that pull energy from alternate timelines/loops of time/whatever. that about covers all the notable info about the vex, but there are some cool stories/places i want to touch on. the black garden is one, which is where the climax of the first game takes us. it's untethered in time and space, basically orphaned off from the rest of the universe. after we kill its heart, it ends up on mars. at some point between the end of d1 and shadowkeep in d2, it got untethered again and we go back for the garden of salvation raid. the black garden is referenced a bunch in some of the more cosmological/mythical lore and is the other important garden i mentioned right at the start. the vex have a bunch of cool stuff on venus, too, like the vault of glass. vog is basically where they test time travel stuff and ontological (i.e. reality-affecting) tech and weaponry. if they ever manage to make that stuff work outside the vault, we're toast. also on venus is the ishtar collective which was mentioned earlier, where a bunch of scientists found that a vex unit was simulating all of them hundreds of times over. they called in a super complex ai to help break out the simulations and those simulations went and explored the vex network and have shown up a couple times since. i'm sure i'm forgetting tons of other stuff, but this is wayyyy too long already. definitely hit me up if you wanna hear a quite frankly ridiculous amount of lore about a fictional universe/race lol anyways. thank you very much for the ask n i hope you enjoyed reading if you got this far

#ask #catboy-spookaloo #i'm gonna tag this #long post #just in case #cause i do have a read more but who knows if that worked #and the post itself is pretty long underneath that #that's all thank you again for the ask

[xoxoemynn]

goodnight sweet prince (and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest)

You like emotional hurt/comfort? I’m giving you emotional hurt/comfort. Featuring emo angst king Crowley, gentle protective Aziraphale, and an author who loves to roast her favorite disaster demon. Many thanks to @lizardkingeliot for the encouragement and assistance. Also on AO3.

Once upon a time, in a faraway land…

* * *

It was not a faraway land. It was a very right here land, the same right here land that Crowley had lived in for the last several centuries. And he knew every bloody of inch of it. The thirty-four steps it took to cross from the front door to his desk. How the light streamed in from his office windows at each hour of the day. That one irritating spot on the floor where Ligur had dissolved and that Crowley couldn’t magic away, no matter how hard he tried.

With an irritated hiss, Crowley slammed his bottle of whiskey down on his desk. It knocked over the small philodendron he’d purchased that morning in a half-hearted attempt to bring about some peace and normalcy to his routine. The ceramic pot it was in shattered upon impact; Crowley deliberately bore down on the terracotta shards as he crossed the room to the toilet, gaining a modicum of satisfaction at the crunch beneath his snakeskin boot.  

* * *

There lived a… well, let’s call him a young prince. Yes, a handsome young prince.

* * *

Crowley turned the faucet on full blast and splashed the ice cold water on his face. He hadn’t truly expected it would help, and it most certainly did not. But it did twist his hair into soggy ringlets that fell across his face like half-dead snakes making one last feeble attempt at vitality.

He rubbed his face with the back of his hand. He looked old. Not six thousand years old. Human old. Like what a six thousand year old human would look like.

With slightly better hair.

Snake corpses notwithstanding.  

* * *

And he lived all alone, in his own private kingdom. Far away from prying eyes. He liked it that way. He felt safe. Comfortable. He could be himself, without yielding to the expectations of others.

* * *

It was too quiet. That was obviously the problem. How was he supposed to sleep when it was silent as a tomb in here?

He flipped on the telly.

“Is it the end of the world as we know it?”

“I should bloody well say not,” Crowley muttered, and waved his hand to change the channel.

“SO YOU THINK YOU CAN STONE ME AND SPIT IN MY EYEEEEEE.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” With another hand wave, this one with far more snap to the wrist, Crowley flicked the telly off and sprawled across his chair.

It was pathetic, really. There was no need for… this. For any of this.

He didn’t need anyone. He was fine. He just needed to get out of his head for a minute, and all would be well.

“Crowley? Are you there?”

* * *  

This prince did not let anybody into his palace.

* * *

Crowley threw his hand in the air.  

* * *

Not willingly, anyway.

* * *

“Come in,” Crowley said, as the door swung open.

* * *

Except for one. Another prince, from another kingdom, even farther away. A rival kingdom, of sorts. Well, they really shouldn’t have been rivals, but that’s a story for another night.

* * *

Aziraphale entered the room, and it became a little easier to breathe.

Crowley tried not to notice.

“My dear, you haven’t answered your phone in three days,” Aziraphale said. “I was worried.”

“I’ve been very busy,” Crowley said. “Temptations and whatnot. Sin. Schemes. Murder.”

“Hmm, yes, I can see that.” Aziraphale crouched down over the fallen plant and with an elaborate flick of his fingers, it was back in its pot. He set it gently down on Crowley’s desk and gave one of its leaves a friendly pat. “Very menacing."

* * *

My point is, they were friends.

* * *

They were silent for an uncomfortably long moment. Crowley could feel a muscle twitch in his brow. He wondered if it would be too obvious if he suddenly miracled up a grandfather clock to sit in the corner, so at least the steady tick tock would fill this utter void of noise.

He decided against it. Grandfather clocks did not suit the aesthetic.

They’d never been like this. Not even once. From the very beginning, when Crowley had been Crawly, when he was just a snake in the desert slithering up to an angel he felt drawn to in a way he couldn’t quite explain… they’d always had something to say to each other.

Crowley ignored the irritating voice in his head pointing out it was because he didn’t want to talk right now so much as use another one of his earthly senses.

“Crowley, are you… are you certain you’re all right?”

* * *

More than friends, if they were being truthful.

* * *

“Never better,” Crowley lied. “We thwarted the apocalypse, after all. No more annoying paperwork. Wahoo.”

Aziraphale nodded slowly. “That we did. But, Crowley… have you gotten any rest?”

Crowley swung his legs over the arm of the chair and stood up. “I don’t need rest. I’m still a bloody demon. I’ve gone nearly a century without so much as a snooze before.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Yes, but you also once slept for nearly a century because I--”

Crowley arched an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” Aziraphale said quickly. “But the point is, you held your burning Bentley together by the sheer power of your mind all the way to Tadfield. That had to deplete your energy source to dangerously low levels. I'm amazed you haven't spontaneously discorporated yet.”

Crowley shrugged. “Never better, angel.”

Aziraphale stared at him, and Crowley fought the urge to shrink back. He was suddenly very aware he hadn’t put on his sunglasses before allowing Aziraphale in, and he felt horrifically exposed. It didn’t help matters that Aziraphale was so still. Crowley was used to him bouncing around, revealing the barest flicker of an emotion with the subtlety of a foghorn. But the way he looked at Crowley now…

It was one of the few times in six thousand years Crowley had been deeply reminded of Aziraphale’s power.

And how effortlessly he could utterly crush him.

* * *

But they could never share how they truly felt about each other. Because if their kingdoms found out… they would make sure the princes did not survive.

* * *

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Aziraphale said. “What is it?”

“Oh, suddenly we’re telling each other everything?” Crowley snapped, not meaning it at all but willing to use all the weapons in his arsenal. “You think because you inhabited my body for a few hours you have the right to know all that’s going on inside my mind?”

“Of course not. It’s only… you don’t look like yourself, my dear. I want to help.”

Crowley shook his head. “There’s nothing to be done, angel.”

* * *

It was far too dangerous.

* * *

“We’re safe now, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “You said so yourself. They’ll leave us alone for a while. I’d say we have at least a few centuries. Why not get some rest?”

Crowley bit the insides of his cheeks. How was he supposed to convey that it was no longer the forces of Heaven or Hell that concerned him, but rather the forces of his own heart?

How was he supposed to share that, when the threat of Armageddon was upon them, he wasn’t roaring at the chance for battle like a good little demon, or attempting to thwart it like a traitorous but still more-or-less low-grade evil-causing demon, but rather reeling from the raw emptiness of the thought of never seeing Aziraphale again?

Entirely human emotions, compounded by thousands upon thousands of years together. That was a phenomenon that wasn’t meant to exist.

Angels and demons view humans on earth as parts of a whole, a collection of chess pieces to be captured one by one, until enough are amassed so victory can be proclaimed.

In a way, Crowley was the same. He’d spent six millennia on earth, soaking up the best and worst of humanity. Only it wasn’t victory he sought; it was completion. And among the madness and messiness of earth, he’d found an environment that felt more like a home to him than Heaven or Hell ever had.

But it was only Aziraphale who filled up the whole of him.

* * *

It wasn’t just that the princes wanted to save their own skins. They couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to the other.

* * *

“Exactly,” Crowley said. “We’re safe now. No one’s going to come for either of us.”

His voice caught oddly in his throat on the last word. He tried to disguise it with a cough, but given how demons generally don’t need to cough, especially not in a room that is set to be the optimal temperature at all times and contains no possible irritants, other than the ones in Crowley’s mind causing him to have this heaven-forsaken conversation, he knew Aziraphale saw right through it. But it did afford him a modicum of dignity.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said slowly, “are you --”

* * *

And so they hid.

* * *

“If you say afraid, I’ll have this entire building blasting the be-boppiest of be-bop in two seconds,” Crowley said. Grabbing his plant mister, he stalked out of the room.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Aziraphale said, following him.

Crowley froze. Did he…

“I daresay I’ve never met anyone else as brave as you, my dear boy.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said, and began to wreak watery havoc on his plants.

“I only think if perhaps you got a bit of rest, you might --”

* * *

The first prince tried to run. Over and over. But there was no place to go.

* * *

“I can’t rest, Aziraphale,” Crowley snapped. “I can’t rest because when I close my eyes, I see your bloody bookshop on fire. And if I’m lucky, I don’t find you, and I get to imagine how you may have simply discorporated and while I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, you’re probably fine, just being tortured by some, well, it could be angels, it could be demons, or, oh, I know! It could be both! Sure, why not both?”

It was abnormally quiet again, so bloody still, that Crowley was acutely aware of his great, gaping breaths, of how his words were growing faster as his voice was growing louder, but the dam had burst, and there was no stopping it.

“But that’s the better version, because at least then I know what I’m up against, and I could still have a shot, maybe. Because then there are other times, other times, where I’m lucky enough to come across your body! Because you see, you see, Aziraphale?” He laughed, the type of laugh he expected most humans would expect to hear come from a demon’s lips, unhinged and entirely humorless. “They made you mortal. Isn’t that hilarious? So whoosh! Whole bloody shop goes up in flames, and you get taken along with it. Forever.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly.

“But then there are other times when there’s no fire,” Crowley said. “And you’d think, you’d think that would mean I might finally get some rest. But of course not! Because then I see you, and you’re right there, but you’re not really there. You’re like a ghost. And I want to… I want to touch you, to make sure you’re really there, but I can’t, I can’t.

“And I’m so tired, Aziraphale, I’m so… empty, I know if I lie down it’ll be for a thousand years, a thousand years of that, and nothing will wake me, and I can’t. I can’t.”

* * *

The second prince tried to play by the rules. He thought he could get his kingdom to see there could be peace. He hid in his loyalties and his faith. But it turns out his loyalty had been to a ghost. A ghost of a hope. And when it vanished he had nothing left. Nothing, except for his prince.

* * *

“Oh, my dear, my… Crowley.”

Crowley leaned over the table, his arms taut, his chest heaving. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his friend.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I hadn’t realized…” He sighed. “I didn’t even know we were capable of nightmares.”

It was absurd, it was so completely fucking absurd, that Crowley barked out a harsh laugh. “Just a fun side effect of going native, eh? Isn’t humanity grand?”

Aziraphale said nothing, but Crowley could hear him moving closer. An odd ringing sound reverberated in his ears. Oh, for God’s sake, he couldn’t believe he’d actually done that, that he had said all those humiliating things out loud. He clutched the edges of the table until his knuckles turned white, wondering if there was any possible way he could back out of this.

* * *

But it was too late. The kingdoms discovered the princes’ secret.

* * *

“Crowley. Crowley, I’m here.”

“I know you’re here, you’ve been talking at me for twenty bloody minutes.”

“No,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley heard him move closer.

And then…

There was a hand on his.

* * *

Of course, their sides were both furious. All of the princes’ nightmares seemed to be coming true, in the most terrifying of fashions. And then the thing they feared the most came to pass: they were separated.

* * *

“I’m here,” Aziraphale repeated. “And you can… touch or feel or… whatever you may like.”

Crowley stared down at Aziraphale’s hand. It was barely touching his own; in fact, upon Crowley’s close inspection, he had reason to believe it was actually only hovering overtop of his fingers.

And yet Crowley was suddenly strongly reminded of creating all the stars of the universe, of how when he’d delightedly blend together those clouds of gas with that indomitable force of gravity, how the gas so desperately wanted to dissipate like smoke in the wind, but the gravity would force it together, crunching down, pulling more and more of that helpless gas cloud in, growing denser and denser, hotter and hotter, until, at last, a single perfect glittering star was born.

That’s what touching Aziraphale felt like.

It was terrifying in its power.

And it was exquisite.

* * *

But the princes were determined, and they were brave. There was simply too much at stake. So they fought back.

* * *

Crowley drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and turned his hand over and laced his fingers with Aziraphale’s.

“Are you sure?” he asked, still not looking away from their hands.

“Of course,” Aziraphale said without hesitation. “I would never offer if I didn’t mean it.”

Nodding, Crowley reluctantly released Aziraphale’s hand so he could turn to face his friend.

There he was. Aziraphale. The same cloud of white blond hair, the same kind blue eyes framed by deep laugh lines. Clad in his usual tan and tartan, looking every bit the proper gentleman. There was no one who knew Crowley better.

It was so utterly familiar.

* * *

But it felt different, once they had returned to their respective palaces. Now that they were free.

* * *

Crowley set his fingertips on Aziraphale’s temples, as lightly as Aziraphale had touched him earlier, and slowly drew them down his face. He took note of each line and crevice, each indentation of skin, the curve of his mouth, the softness of his earlobes, the bump of his chin. Were he an artist, he could have drawn Aziraphale perfectly, down to the very last detail, the very last freckle on his neck, even if he had gone a thousand years without seeing him. But now with those very features beneath his fingers, it was exploring something entirely new and magnificent.

He brushed his hands downward, down to Aziraphale’s chest, pausing where his heart was. Angels, of course, had no true need of hearts, or really any bodily organs, but when living among humans for so long, one tended to pick up these eccentricities. Crowley was exceptionally grateful for it at the moment, and took his time lingering there, feeling the steady beat beneath his hands.

There was more he wanted to explore, so much more, but these soft touches alone were threatening to undo him. He had to go slowly.

But…

He was here. As he always was. As Crowley dared to hope he always would be.

“Aziraphale,” he said. It came out a sob. This time he didn’t care.

Crowley buried his face in the curve of Aziraphale’s neck, the hot tears streaking down his cheeks staining the fabric of his coat. His touches were no longer gentle. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale tightly, drawing him in as close as he could.

* * *

The first prince dreamed of flames.

* * *

And when Aziraphale pulled his arms around him, first dragging his hands in soothing caresses down his back, then more desperately clawing at the back of Crowley’s shirt, fingers digging in as though he was trying to grapple his way inside of him, the memory of fire slowly died away.

* * *

The second prince... dreamed of emptiness.

* * *

“Oh, my darling,” Aziraphale whispered. “Holding you feels so… complete.”

Crowley made a noise, and it may have been a word, or even the start of a rather brilliant sentence articulating just how complete it all felt, but it was lost to the waves of their quiet sobs.

* * *

Neither of them could quite say what was wrong.

* * *

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale said. One of his hands was in Crowley’s hair, half stroking, half pulling at it. Whatever it was, he seemed desperate to bury himself within it. “I should have… I never… we could…”

Crowley wanted to comfort him, to offer him reassurances, that he understood, that it didn’t matter any longer, that they had survived, and they were here, and he knew it, he could feel how very alive they were, how very together. But all he could manage was to miraculously hold Aziraphale even closer.

Somehow, he rather thought that got the point across.

* * *

They were free now, but they’d been in these habits for so long… it was hard to break.

* * *

Being wrapped up in Aziraphale’s embrace felt so easy. Crowley wanted to melt into his softness. He had a suspicion that would be easy, too.

It was so hard to fathom. Millennium upon millennium of dancing around each other, avoiding any and all physical contact… it all seemed so reasonable at the time. A safety precaution. Plausible deniability.

Not to mention the matter of Aziraphale’s steadfast denial that what they shared was anything more than mere “fraternization.”

But now, all those barriers had melted it away. There was nothing standing between them any longer.

* * *

But one day the second prince decided enough was enough, and he traveled to his prince’s palace.

* * *

“There, my dear,” Aziraphale said, sniffling. “Does this ease some of your discomfort?”

Crowley nodded. Then, realizing Aziraphale couldn’t see his head, given how it was still nestled into his shoulder, he said “yes.” However, again, given how his head was still nestled into his shoulder, it came out more as “yemph.”

Aziraphale chuckled, and carded his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “I wish I had known. I would have come by earlier. I only thought you needed your space. There was no need for you to suffer like this for days.”

“I‘m sorry,” Crowley said, and, with a colossal amount of effort, raised his head. An unpleasant whiff followed him. “Urgh, I stink. And I got your jacket all wet and wrinkled. I can miracle it right up.”

* * *

His prince was a sight to behold. Tired, drawn, pale.

* * *

“You’re lovely,” Aziraphale said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and delicately dabbed at Crowley’s cheeks. A familiar tickle swept over Crowley’s entire body as he pulled the handkerchief away; he’d been miraculously cleaned. “Don’t you fret.”

The primal need to hold Aziraphale close had passed, but Crowley was still not remotely inclined to let him go. “Thank you,” he said, and squeezed his arm. “I’m… grateful.”

Aziraphale gave him the softest of smiles. “And I, I suspect… am yours.”

* * *

He’d been awake for so long. Not just his body, but his soul. On guard. Prepared for attack.

* * *

Crowley shook his head, attempting to come to his senses. He wracked his brain for a witty reply, something to make him seem worthy of such a proclamation, but his clever retorts had all gone to rest without him. “Right,” he managed, quite proud of himself for managing to at least get that out. “Erm, same. Yours.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arm around Crowley’s waist. “Good. Now, come along. Let’s get you taken care of.”

* * *

He needed rest.

* * *

Aziraphale led Crowley to his bedroom. Crowley didn’t fight when Aziraphale gently pushed him to the bed, nor when he kneeled to remove his boots. So calming were Aziraphale’s touches that Crowley didn’t even raise an eyebrow when the angel, blushing, suggested removing Crowley’s jeans so he’d be more comfortable.

But as soon as Aziraphale sat beside him on the bed and moved to cover him with the duvet, the old panic began to worm its way into Crowley’s chest.

“Wait,” Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale’s wrist. “I still… I still might… what if I don’t wake up?”

Aziraphale paused for the briefest of moments, then bent over to remove his own shoes.

* * *

THEY needed rest.

* * *

“I’ll stay with you,” Aziraphale said, and unbuttoned his waistcoat. “Right by your side. And I’ll wake you the very second I notice any signs of distress. I promise.”

“Even if I have to sleep for a thousand years?” Crowley asked.

“Even then,” Aziraphale said. He quickly stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, and set his clothing down on a nearby chair. Then he slid into bed next to Crowley and pulled the duvet over them.

* * *

So our second prince slipped his hand into the first’s.

* * *

Lying here in bed with Aziraphale pressed behind him, their fingers laced together... it should have been enough to set all of Crowley’s nerves on fire. And perhaps he’d wake up in a decade or two, and realize the position they were in, and immediately burst forth with a new explosion of energy and a million questions about what this was, and what they were doing, and what exactly they hoped to achieve.

But for now, he was content to just be.

* * *

They curled up around each other, safe in each other’s arms.

* * *

It was warm, and comforting, and if this was what eternity had in store for them, Crowley would finally consider himself blessed.

* * *

It was magic. The touch awakened them. So much so they couldn’t believe they hadn’t been doing this all along.

* * *

Crowley closed his eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he whispered.

* * *

But it didn’t matter now.

* * *

“My love,” Aziraphale responded, just as soft. “Shall I tell you a bedtime story? To help you sleep?”

* * *

For the first time in six millennia, they were at peace.

* * *

Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s hand to his chest. “Please,” he said, and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s wrist.

* * *  

They were together.

* * *

Aziraphale gave his hand a squeeze, and when he spoke, his breath washed over Crowley’s face like a caress.

* * *

And they slept.

* * *

“Once upon a time,” Aziraphale said, “in a faraway land…”

* * *  

And they lived happily ever after.

#Good Omens #ineffable husbands #Aziraphale x Crowley #Anthony J. Crowley #Aziraphale #my fic #LET THEM CRY LET THEM TOUCH LET THEM HUG LET THEM SLEEP LET THEM SPOON LET THEM BE SOFT #that's it that's the fic #also I swear it took me longer to sort out half decent formatting for this fic than to actually write it so #I apologize tumblr is awful

[tessatechaitea]

Review of The Twilight Zone, Season 1, Episode 14: "Jody Leaves Her Date to Die"

Amanda Halley of The Ultimate Fashion History YouTube channel helped me better understand fashion with her constant reminder, "Fashion is not an island; it's a response." I'm one of those men who has lived 48 years in t-shirts and jeans (disregarding the few years in late elementary where I wore corduroy pants for some reason. I think that reason was that my mother didn't understand exactly how serious my inability to change my clothing style was and, in a major struggle to get me to not wear jeans to some family function, didn't realize she was constraining me to years of swishing corduroy pants once I accepted the change (I do remember how I got back into jeans though! While playing at my cousins, my corduroy pants zipper ripped (or the button popped?) and they just wouldn't stay up. So my aunt had some old jeans from Peter Martin (the neighbor boy from across the street) and said I could wear those. Of course, I adamantly refused to wear another boy's pants and decided to struggle through holding up my pants for the rest of my life. A little while later, my mother (she was there because it was probably Thanksgiving) came out with some jeans and said they were a pair I had left there previously. So I acquiesced and put them on, only realizing as I was putting them on in the bathroom that they were fucking Peter Martin's jeans and I had been had. But in a burst of maturity and insight into saving face that I can't believe came out of a youthful me, I made the cognitive decision to go along with the sham. And after that, I never wore corduroy pants again and it was jeans all the way down once more (sure, sure. As I got older, I wore a variety of different kinds of pants. But probably 95% jeans)). That was a pretty good digression so let me remind you where we were: I've basically only worn t-shirts and jeans my entire life so Amanda Halley's The Ultimate Fashion History YouTube channel has taught me more about history in a year or so than I knew in the previous 47. And her quote, "Fashion is not an island; it's response," struck a chord with me because, as an English major, it's how I learned to better appreciate poetry. Or, at least, how I learned to better appreciate poetry that I did not like. It's one thing to read William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow" and think, "What the fuck? Stupid. Whatever." It's another to learn about the other artists whom Williams discussed poetry and their theories about what modern poetry should be, and how it should differ from the previous generation. Although I don't know much about that because after reading "The Red Wheelbarrow" and thinking, "What the fuck? Stupid. Whatever," I had no interest in learning more about William Carlos Williams. But even poems that people think they love as a stand-alone experience, like Yeats' "The Second Coming," cannot truly be understood without context and reading multiple essays discussing Yeats' secret language and ritualistic metaphors. Poems, like fashion, are not islands. Every single one is a piece of dialogue in a generational conversation. Good luck ever feeling like you really understand anything after accepting that fact. Which brings me to this episode of The Twilight Zone, "Third from the Sun." While not as unfathomable as T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" without understanding the references or contemplating where Vivienne Westwood's punk aesthetic came from without knowledge of previous years and decades of fashion, "Third from the Sun" relies on the viewer understanding the context in which this story was told. Based on a Richard Matheson story (because of course it was), "Third from the Sun" is a modernist response to living in the nuclear age. Obviously we still live with the threat of nuclear war because genies and bottles and idiots and whatnot so the story doesn't need as much context as maybe some of the other The Twilight Zone episodes that haven't aged as well. But the way it's told exemplifies the needed subversive nature of Rod Serling's television program for 1959. It comes with a sort of safety valve that allows a viewer to remain blind to the criticism of the United States. I'm sure what Matheson and Serling do in this story has been done before and since but it struck me as quite clever, and made me realize that possibly the only other example of this cleverness that I can currently recall with my muddled and aged brain is the ending scene of Get Out when the police car pulls up as Chris kneels over the woman who betrayed him and she begins calling for help. Although that scene maybe doesn't have quite the same safety valve. In fact, it refuses the safety valve completely. That scene is all, "See how you felt when that police car pulled up, you white? That's it. That's fucking living in the U.S. as a black man." But it's still sort of the same visceral reaction that the creators are expecting the audience to have at the end of the story. I should probably explain what that reaction is in "Third from the Sun." William Sturka helps build hydrogen bombs. One day after work, he learns that the bombs are going to be launched in 48 hours. The world is essentially over. He can no longer justify his career by pointing out he's just a replaceable cog in a gigantic war machine because that cog has helped bring it all crashing down. Luckily for him and his family, he has an escape plan! Unluckily for his daughter Jody's date and everybody else living on the planet, they don't have an escape plan! But that's okay because this is how stories work. The audience is given the main characters and encouraged to simply care about the main characters because caring about people who haven't even been written is a stupid waste of time. Sure, Jody's date exists but you never have to look at his face so who cares if he blows up or is later torn to pieces by the mutant post-apocalyptic zombie monkeys. This is about the Sturka family and how they will survive another day! The Sturka escape plan is to take an experimental space ship to a planet they've discovered in a nearby galaxy. They've learned that the people on that planet are similar to them and even speak a language quite closely related to theirs. This brings up a lot of other questions that can't be answered in a twenty five minute television show so just shut up. Some other drama takes place with a bad guy who wants to stop them but none of that really matters. Okay, fine, it matters but in a way that I don't want to get into. It matters because it demonstrates wrong-headed loyalty to a dangerous government and obsessive patriotism and cigarette smoking men who just want to see the world burn. But the terrible man trying to stop them is really just an obstacle to be traversed so Sturka and his family have something to do for twenty minutes, aside from discussing their plans of stealing a government aircraft while playing Bridge or Pinochle or whatever stupid card game for couples they played in the 50s. The main theme is that Sturka and his family are living in a world teetering on the edge of nuclear Armageddon and they're desperate to escape to safety. At the end of the episode, as they escape in their space ship, William and his friend discuss their destination. William learns the planet they're headed to is the third from its star and that it's called Earth. I think this is where I'd insert a gif of universe brain if I was that kind of Internet writer. I am not. Although since I'm more of a 'zine writer, I should at least be doing my own art for these reviews. Fuck. Now that I've thought of it, I've just made more work for myself for future reviews. Also, I think I'm going to turn these into physical 'zines. So that's the twisty bit going on in this episode! The entire time, the audience is thinking this is a tale of Earth because, well, we're living in the shadow of complete and utter annihilation brought on by the whims of our leaders. So the big surprise is that this was a different planet entirely! But the part that I think is clever and subversive and based in the context and dialogue of the time is that it relies on the audience to understand it and make the mental leap of logic for one final gasp of awareness. They aren't going somewhere safe! They're headed right back into the same on-the-brink-of-disaster world they just left. Which is why it reminds me of the final scene of Get Out which relies on the audience's pre-conceived notions of police and violence against black men. I suppose in 1959, you couldn't watch this episode of The Twilight Zone and not gasp at the realization that this poor family hasn't actually rescued itself. They're still in danger because our world has become that dangerous place. We believed they were fleeing Earth because Earth has gotten as frightening as the world in this episode and Matheson and Serling double down by saying, "Ha ha! Nope. They're going to Earth!" Perhaps there's a bit of hope in the story in that we still have more time than 48 hours. But I don't think that's the point. And much like Get Out, even people who pooh-pooh Black Lives Matter protests, must have had a visceral reaction to the police car pulling up while the protagonist knelt above the bloody body of his fiance and tormentor. It's a scene that forces a person acknowledge, by their own reaction and assumption about what's going to happen, that, even if they will vocally deny that police violence against black men is an epidemic, they understand the truth of it. I can't imagine a person exists who could watch that scene and not immediately understand that Chris's life has gone from one dangerous experience to another serious threat to his life. Just another scene that relies on the context of the time, and dialogue across decades. None of this shit is an island. Like the jeans I've worn my entire life, it's simply responses all the way down. Final Thought: I apologize for taking this review in two directions at once without properly knitting them together (the whole "it's a response thing" and the comparison to Get Out) but one came to mind as I was enmeshed in the other and, in the end, I don't have an editor and I'm not being paid for this. So if it's all poorly knitted together, I can only hope that you view it from the appropriate distance to hide its serious flaws. Thank you!

#The Twilight Zone #Get Out #Richard Matheson #Rod Serling #Third from the Sun

[zay-daze]

Epistle 3

Dearest Playa,

I hope this letter finds you well. I can hear your complaint already, “Gertie Fremont, we have not heard from you in ages!” Well, if you care to hear excuses, I have plenty, the greatest of them being I’ve been in other dimensions and whatnot, unable to reach you by the usual means. This was the case until eighteen months ago, when I experienced a critical change in my circumstances, and was redeposited on these shores. In the time since, I have been able to think occasionally about how best to describe the intervening years, my years of silence. I do first apologize for the wait, and that done, hasten to finally explain (albeit briefly, quickly, and in very little detail) events following those described in my previous letter (referred to herewith as Epistle 2).

To begin with, as you may recall from the closing paragraphs of my previous missive, the death of Elly Vaunt shook us all. The Research & Rebellion team was traumatized, unable to be sure how much of our plan might be compromised, and whether it made any sense to go on at all as we had intended. And yet, once Elly had been buried, we found the strength and courage to regroup. It was the strong belief of her brave son, the feisty Alex Vaunt, that we should continue on as his mother had wished. We had the Antarctic coordinates, transmitted by Elly’s long-time assistant, Dr. Jerry Maas, which we believed to mark the location of the lost luxury liner Hyperborea. Elly had felt strongly that the Hyperborea should be destroyed rather than allow it to fall into the hands of the Disparate. Others on our team disagreed, believing that the Hyperborea might hold the secret to the revolution’s success. Either way, the arguments were moot until we found the vessel. Therefore, immediately after the service for Dr. Vaunt, Alex and I boarded a seaplane and set off for the Antarctic; a much larger support team, mainly militia, was to follow by separate transport.

It is still unclear to me exactly what brought down our little aircraft. The following hours spent traversing the frigid waste in a blizzard are also a jumbled blur, ill-remembered and poorly defined. The next thing I clearly recall is our final approach to the coordinates Dr. Maas has provided, and where we expected to find the Hyperborea. What we found instead was a complex fortified installation, showing all the hallmarks of sinister Disparate technology. It surrounded a large open field of ice. Of the Hypnos itself there was no sign…or not at first. But as we stealthily infiltrated the Disparate installation, we noticed a recurent, strangely coherent auroral effect–as of a vast hologram fading in and out of view. This bizarre phenomenon initially seemed an effect caused by an immense Disparate lensing system, Alex and I soon realized that what we were actually seeing was the luxury liner Hyperborea itself, phasing in and out of existence at the focus of the Disparate devices. The aliens had erected their compound to study and seize the ship whenever it materialized. What Dr. Maas had provided were not coordinates for where the sub was located, but instead for where it was predicted to arrive. The liner was oscillating in and out of our reality, its pulses were gradually steadying, but there was no guarantee it would settle into place for long–or at all. We determined that we must put ourselves into position to board it at the instant it became completely physical.

At this point we were briefly detained–not captured by the Disparate, as we feared at first, but by minions of our former nemesis, the conniving and duplicitous Wanda Bree. Dr. Bree was not as we had last seen her–which is to say, she was not dead. At some point, the Disparate had saved out an earlier version of her consciousness, and upon her physical demise, they had imprinted the back-up personality into a biological blank resembling an enormous slug. The Bree-Slug, despite occupying a position of relative power in the Disparate hierarchy, seemed nervous and frightened of me in particular. Wanda did not know how her previous incarnation, the original Dr. Bree, had died. She knew only that I was responsible. Therefore the slug treated us with great caution. Still, she soon confessed (never able to keep quiet for long) that she was herself a prisoner of the Disparate. She took no pleasure from her current grotesque existence, and pleaded with us to end her life. Alex believed that a quick death was more than Wanda Bree deserved, but for my part, I felt a modicum of pity and compassion. Out of Alex’s sight, I might have done something to hasten the slug’s demise before we proceeded.

Not far from where we had been detained by Dr. Bree, we found Jerry Maas being held in a Disparate interrogation cell. Things were tense between Jerry and Alex, as might be imagined. Alex blamed Jerry for his mother’s death…news of which, Jerry was devastated to hear for the first time. Jerry tried to convince Alex that he had been a double agent serving the resistance all along, doing only what Elly had asked of him, even though he knew it meant he risked being seen by his peers–by all of us–as a traitor. I was convinced; Alex less so. But from a pragmatic point of view, we depended on Dr. Maas; for along with the Hyperborea coordinates, he possessed resonance keys which would be necessary to bring the liner fully into our plane of existence.

We skirmished with Disparate soldiers protecting a Dispar research post, then Dr. Maas attuned the Hyperborea to precisely the frequencies needed to bring it into (brief) coherence. In the short time available to us, we scrambled aboard the ship, with an unknown number of Disparate agents close behind. The ship cohered for only a short time, and then its oscillations resume. It was too late for our own military support, which arrived and joined the Disparate forces in battle just as we rebounded between universes, once again unmoored.

What happened next is even harder to explain. Alex Vaunt, Dr. Maas and myself sought control of the ship–its power source, its control room, its navigation center. The liner’s history proved nonlinear. Years before, during the Disparate invasion, various members of an earlier science team, working in the hull of a dry-docked liner situated at the Tocsin Island Research Base in Lake Huron, had assembled what they called the Bootstrap Device. If it worked as intended, it would emit a field large enough to surround the ship. This field would then itself travel instantaneously to any chosen destination without having to cover the intervening space. There was no need for entry or exit portals, or any other devices; it was entirely self-contained. Unfortunately, the device had never been tested. As the Disparate pushed Earth into the Nine Hour Armageddon, the aliens seized control of our most important research facilities. The staff of the Hyperborea, with no other wish than to keep the ship out of Disparate hands, acted in desperation. The switched on the field and flung the Hyperborea toward the most distant destination they could target: Antarctica. What they did not realize was that the Bootstrap Device travelled in time as well as space. Nor was it limited to one time or one location. The Hyperborea, and the moment of its activation, were stretched across space and time, between the nearly forgotten Lake Huron of the Nine Hour Armageddon and the present day Antarctic; it was pulled taut as an elastic band, vibrating, except where at certain points along its length one could find still points, like the harmonic spots along a vibrating guitar string. One of these harmonics was where we boarded, but the string ran forward and back, in both time and space, and we were soon pulled in every direction ourselves.

Time grew confused. Looking from the bridge, we could see the drydocks of Tocsin Island at the moment of teleportation, just as the Disparate forces closed in from land, sea and air. At the same time, we could see the Antarctic wastelands, where our friends were fighting to make their way to the protean Hyperborea; and in addition, glimpses of other worlds, somewhere in the future perhaps, or even in the past. Alex grew convinced we were seeing one of the Disparate’s central staging areas for invading other worlds–such as our own. We meanwhile fought a running battle throughout the ship, pursued by Disparate forces. We struggled to understand our stiuation, and to agree on our course of action. Could we alter the course of the Hyperborea? Should we run it aground in the Antarctic, giving our peers the chance to study it? Should we destroy it with all hands aboard, our own included? It was impossible to hold a coherent thought, given the baffling and paradoxical timeloops, which passed through the ship like bubbles. I felt I was going mad, that we all were, confronting myriad versions of ourselves, in that ship that was half ghost-ship, half nightmare funhouse.

What it came down to, at last, was a choice. Jerry Maas argued, reasonably, that we should save the Hyperborea and deliver it to the resistance, that our intelligent peers might study and harness its power. But Alex reminded me had sworn he would honor his mother’s demand that we destroy the ship. He hatched a plan to set the Hyperborea to self-destruct, while riding it into the heart of the Disparate’s invasion nexus. Jerry and Alex argued. Jerry overpowered Alex and brought the Hyperborea area, preparing to shut off the Bootstrap Device and settle the ship on the ice. Then I heard a shot, and Jerry fell. Alex had decided for all of us, or his weapon had. With Dr. Maas dead, we were committed to the suicide plunge. Grimly, Alex and I armed the Hyperborea, creating a time-travelling missile, and steered it for the heart of the Disparate’s command center.

At this point, as you will no doubt be unsurprised to hear, a Certain Sinister Figure appeared, in the form of that sneering trickster, Mrs. X.  For once she appeared not to me, but to Alex Vaunt. Alex had not seen the cryptical schoolmarm since childhood, but he recognized her instantly. “Come along with me now, we’ve places to do and things to be,” said Mrs. X, and Alex acquiesced. He followed the strange grey lady out of the Hyperborea, out of our reality. For me, there was no convenient door held open; only a snicker and a sideways glance. I was left alone, riding the weaponized luxury liner into the heart of a Disparate world. An immense light blazed. I caught a cosmic view of a brilliantly glittering Dyson sphere. The vastness of the Disparate’s power, the futility of our struggle, blossomed briefly in my awareness. I saw everything. Mainly I saw how the Hyperborea, our most powerful weapon, would register as less than a fizzling matchhead as it blew itself apart. And what remained of me would be even less than that.

Just then, as you have surely already foreseen, the Ghastlyhaunts parted their own checkered curtains of reality, reached in as they have on prior occasions, plucked me out, and set me aside. I barely got to see the fireworks begin.

And here we are. I spoke of my return to this shore. It has been a circuitous path to lands I once knew, and surprising to see how much the terrain has changed. Enough time has passed that few remember me, or what I was saying when last I spoke, or what precisely we hoped to accomplish. At this point, the resistance will have failed or succeeded, no thanks to me. Old friends have been silenced, or fallen by the wayside. I no longer know or recognize most members of the research team, though I believe the spirit of rebellion still persists. I expect you know better than I the appropriate course of action, and I leave you to it. Expect no further correspondence from me regarding these matters; this is my final epistle.

Yours in infinite finality,

Gertrude Fremont, Ph.D.

#Half-Life #Half-life 2 #half-life 3 #Marc Laidlaw #Dr. Gordon Freeman #HλLF-LIFE

[betwixt-these-pages]

This is my stop during the book blitz for Swords & Stilettos by Kristin D. Van Risseghem. This book blitz is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours. The book blitz runs from 4 till 10 January. You can see the tour schedule here.

Swords & Stilettos (Enlighten #1) by Kristin D. Van Risseghem Genre: Urban Fantasy Age category: Young Adult Release Date: December 7, 2016

Blurb: Zoe Jabril needs to devise a kick-ass plan to save the world ASAP. Otherwise, Armageddon starts the day she turns eighteen—and if that happens, everything is going to hell. Literally.

She could be any other 17-year-old attending parties and checking out cute guys—except she discovers her best friend is a Guardian Angel and the boy she crushes on is a Nephilim, both sent to protect her from the demons who want her dead.

Now Zoe has to deal with growing feelings toward the Nephilim, who spreads a strange electrical current through her body every time he touches her. And she’s under constant attack from Demons, trying to stop her from fulfilling the Prophecy: a girl will be born who will unite Angels, Nephilim, Fairies and Werewolves to battle evil. Then she has to control newly found talents if she’s to prevent the devil from escaping Hell.

You can find Swords & Stilettos on Goodreads

You can buy Swords & Stilettos here: – Amazon – Barnes & Noble – Kobo – iBooks

You can get a free book if you join Kristin her newsletter. Get your free copy of The Prince, a Betrayal, & a Kiss here on instafreebie.

Excerpt:

The three of us walked out to his car, and dad surprised me with how cordial he was around Shay. Not the overprotective father I’d expected at all.

“When did you buy it?” Dad asked. “All the parts still original?”

“Mostly,” Shay replied, avoiding his first question. “I changed out the stereo to a CD/iPod player.”

Dad seemed to agree. “I would, too. Do you drive it to car shows? I don’t think I’ve seen this one at any of them around here.” He glanced up from the car, looking sheepish. “I can’t get the women to go with me when one’s in town, so I usually go alone.”

“There’s one coming up next weekend at the Minneapolis Convention Center,” Shay said. “Wanna go with me?”

Oh Shay, you’ll have my dad wrapped around your finger in no time. Dad glanced at me with hopeful eyes. I couldn’t deny him this.

“I think you should,” I told him.

Now that he had my permission, Dad walked around the Bel Air, not touching it, but examining it under a microscope. Looking up from the wheels he asked, “What made you pick this model and not some other one?”

“It was between her and a 1962 Lincoln Continental Convertible with suicide doors.” He shrugged. “I got a better deal on this.”

“A ‘62 Lincoln. That’s a pretty sweet car, but I’d have to agree. This is better.” He shook Shay’s hand again. “Good choice. Very good choice.” They stood side by side, staring at the car, and I had to work on not laughing.

“I’ll leave you two alone now,” I said with a grin, then turned back to the house. Just before I reached the front door, I glanced back, still amazed at my dad’s behavior. If I hadn’t turned around, I would have missed it. Dad had leaned over to whisper something in Shay’s ear. Shay nodded and said something back. I was dying to know what they were talking about. Then again, they were probably just talking cars.

By the time I made it to the front door, Shay had jogged up to stand beside me. “Your dad is way cool!”

“You’re saying that to butter him up.”

“No, he is. Kieran says so, too.”

“What did he whisper to you at the end?” I asked.

He smiled gently and brushed his fingers over my cheek, tucking back my hair. “He told me to treat you better than I care for the car. He said a car can be replaced, and you can’t be.”

Now that was nice to hear. “And you said?”

“I promised I’d protect you with my life.”

About the Author:

USA Today bestselling and Award-Winning, Kristin D. Van Risseghem grew up in a small town along the Mississippi River with her parents and older sister. Currently, Kristin lives in Minnesota with her husband and two Calico cats. She also loves attending book clubs, going shopping, and hanging out with friends. She has come to realize that she absolutely has an addiction to purses and shoes. They are her weakness and probably has way too many of both.

In the summer months, Kristin can usually be found lounging on her boat, drinking an ice cold something. Being an avid reader of YA and Women’s Literature stories, she still finds time to read a ton of books in-between writing. And in the winter months, her main goal is to stay warm from the Minnesota cold!

Kristin’s books are published by Kasian Publishing LLC.

You can find and contact Kristin here: – Website – Facebook – Twitter – Goodreads – Amazon – Instagram – Bookbub

Giveaway There is a tour wide giveaway for the book blitz of Swords & Stilettos. One winner will win a signed paperback copy of Swords & Stilettos and custom swag. Open to both USA and International.

For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Quick Reasons: intriguing, promising premise; love triangle meet instalove meet fated love meet unexplained girl hate; there was a LOT happening in this book; the “magic” could use a bit of expansion/work; Zoe wasn’t as interesting as I hoped she’d be

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insta-love

fishing for more

entertaining

special snowflake

Huge thanks to Kristin D. Van Rissegham, Kasian Publishing LLC, and Lola’s Blog Tours for granting me free digital access to this title in exchange for an honest review! This in no way altered my read of or opinions on this book.

This book had HUGE potential, penguins. I was intrigued and entertained throughout, always wanting to know where the plot was leading or what was bound to happen next. There were some well-written, heart-wrenching moments–most of which had Zoe and Shay alone, exploring their feelings (and each other). I felt the plot was complex and dynamic, and had just enough going on to entice and enthrall me. Overall, this was an amusing, fun read.

The characters were, for the most part, also well-rounded and vibrantly detailed. There were little notes about each that Kristin D. Van Rissenghem took care to include–such as wing color, tattoo intricacies, and nervous habits. Each character felt individualized and unique, and each brought their own flair into this story. I especially liked that we had several different perspective shifts throughout this book–it helped to break up the “monotonous” moments and make things more lively.

But…there were also things that didn’t work for me, personally. For one thing, as I mentioned above, there were A LOT of different “love” connections happening. We had the love triangle, the instalove, the fated lovers…and a few others that I won’t take the time to list out, because then we’d all be confused. While I understand this was an attempt to pair the key players off or whatnot, it felt like TOO many feelings happening. Sure, don’t get me wrong–Eternals need love in their lives, too. It just felt a bit like awkward timing, with a supposed huge war on the horizon. Zoe, in particular, seemed more focused on her love life (and on being a “normal” teenager) than on the impending danger. On top of this, these tropes at times felt a bit connived or forced–I didn’t FULLY buy into any of the romances, to be honest, mostly because they happened way too quickly.

Overall, while this was an engaging and promising beginning to a new series, I had a few minor issues with it as well. The characters were vibrant and entertaining, the snark was on point, but the romance aspect in the long run didn’t work for me. I’d still recommend this to lovers of mythological creatures, the battle between good and evil, and characters who take a few hard knocks before coming to terms with their “destinies.” This one didn’t sweep me completely off my feet as a reader…but maybe it will you. Give it a go, maybe?

Blog Tour, Excerpt, Giveaway, and Review: Swords & Stilettos This is my stop during the book blitz for Swords & Stilettos by Kristin D. Van Risseghem.

#all about books #all things books #blog tours #book excerpts #book giveaways #book tours #bookish #bookish excerpts #bookish giveaways #bookish things #books #Fantasy #giveaways #paranormal #romance #ya #Book Reviews #Penguin Reviews