glygriffe
Griffe Is An Art Lurker
Fan fiction, art, and fanart appreciation (and sometimes, creation)
| Griffe on AO3 and HitRECord |
She/Her | French and English
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Last Seen Blogs
optimisticlucio
Two Braincells, None Thinking
skygm114
제목 없음
taishasan
Vatreni沼
saturniade
this thing is haunted AS FUCK
yamacyan
やまちゃんのそんな事どーでもいいじゃん！
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Metatron? This is Metatron?
#surely Metatron knows about the Winchesters#he was the script of god and he just couldn’t shut up about them#even if it was only their blood line#spnedit
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Sam Winchester Appreciation Week 2024 → Day Two: Favourite Sam Arc / Pre or Post Canon / Home / Liminality
My art tag
Ask me a question/say hi/make a request
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This is my work for Fobnatural. Our song is Fall Out Boy's Love From The Other Side, and you can read the fic here written by magnificent author Fandomite!
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The Road to the Good Place
Fandom: Dark Angel
Character: Ben | x5-493
Word count: 1414
Warning: Angst, broken promises, talk of death and violence
A note: From the Fanfic Lounge weekly challenge prompt: Your character gets to heaven only to find that the judgment is entirely based on how many promises they've broken.
Ben remembers hearing the Manticore guards closing in on them in the forest while he was fighting with Max. He threw some mean blows, but he didn’t really want to hurt her; he just wanted to be done. With everything. He barely registered the hurt when his knee snapped backward. He didn’t really care about living in the outside world. He tried to fit in. For years he tried, though nothing was as he had imagined. Life in the real world was hard for everyone, especially for an awkward and isolated child. But Manticore was worse.
The roar of the helicopter in his ears, as loud and clear as his heartbeat, meant the end for him. He asked his sister to not let them take him back and he's quite sure she did that last favor for him, even if he probably didn't deserve it.
He cannot see Max at his side anymore or hear the helicopter, but he swears he hears her cry softly in the distance, the sound fading. She made him talk about the Good Place just before the world disappeared. Maybe that’s where he is right now.
In the Good Place, nobody gets yelled at, and you can stay in bed as long as you want in the morning. Even if you are a child soldier turned serial killer.
The morning sun shines brightly, almost blinding him. He rubs his eyes with his fists, as he did as a child, then blinks to focus on the scenery around him. He is not in a bed, yet he is lying on his back on something soft. The undergrowth of a different forest cushions his frame and no part of his body aches. Max did it; she stopped him from spiraling further down the rabbit hole of insanity and prevented Manticore from capturing him.
Ben arches his neck back to drop his head to the ground, smiling at the bright sky and the nature around him. This must be the Good Place, where all sins are washed away and the Blue Lady provides for those who believe in her.
He can see a stream flowing gently a few steps away and on the surface of the lazy water he sees the reflection of a bright blue light. Could it be Her?
He swiftly rolls into a sitting position to catch a glimpse of the Blue Lady. But he sees nothing except a handkerchief with a medallion of the Virgin Mary placed neatly on the soft dirt near him.
”Funny how the Styx and the Pishon are two of the great rivers known to men, and yet for you, a genetically enhanced human, they merge and show up as a mere trickle of muddy water. Your road to Heaven is kind of pathetic, to be honest.”
When Ben turns, as quick as lightning, there’s a man in a suit standing behind him. Or something that looks like a man but surely isn’t. The thing smiles at him with a certain amount of contempt, gesturing to its physical form:
“You see this humanoid shape because your imagination is crippled. It’s a shame because I’m told you were a delightful storyteller a mere 10 years ago, which requires a healthy dose of creativity and intuition. As a child, you might have perceived my true form, my six wings and four faces.”
Ben never really paid much attention to organized religion. Even if he found statues of the Blue Lady in some Catholic churches, when priests talk of Her, they get it all wrong. But his eidetic memory caught on to the concept of angels in western religions and his instinct tells him that the thing that looks like a bald and bold man in his late fifties is one of those mythic creatures. They were messengers or warriors, but this angel, although definitely powerful, doesn’t look like he was built to fight. So it must be one of the former kind, here to tell him about Her.
“When will I see the Blue Lady?”
The angel scuffed:
“Did you really think you could ask someone to snap your neck and, Voilà! your biggest wish would be granted? Tsk, tsk. And I thought you had superior intelligence as well as speed and strength.”
Ben can feel his forehead crinkle. An uneasy feeling creeps into his stomach; maybe he’s not exactly where he thought he was. If only because the creature in front of him is pretty close to yelling.
Without even realizing it, he slowly backs away from the angel. His foot shifts the medallion of the Virgin he left on the ground. When his eye catches the reflection of the metal in the sun, he has the compulsion to pick it up. Clenching the medallion in his fist makes him feel better and reassures him a little. Even if he is now confronted with someone who cannot hide his disgust of him:
“In the end, you’re just another ignorant hairless ape, aren’t you? You really know nothing of Osiris and Anubis, or Minos and…”
The angel sighs as if burdened with the worst task in the world.
“I guess I’ll make it simple for you: you’re not in Heaven yet. You have to follow the stream to get there. But before that, you have to be judged. On all the promises you broke. From what I know… Good luck passing the Pearly Gates.”
Ben hasn't heard any of his biological functions since Max disappeared - he is now dead after all - but it's as if his heart has stopped for a second time. His eyes close as he bows his head.
How many promises has he broken in his miserable life?
His pledge to Manticore to be a good little soldier; his promises to Max and the rest of his family of a better life; his solemn vow to the Blue Lady that he would do better.
He didn’t keep any of those.
Even his offerings to the Blue Lady and the discipline he has imposed on himself in recent years could not make up for all his transgressions.
A great sorrow fills his entire being at the thought of never reaching the Good Place, of never seeing the benevolent Blue Lady. His eyes sting and get misty, so he purses his lips and sniffs to make the tears go away. To hide that little part of him that still believed he could be saved, that part that is now bloody and raw.
Instinctively, he clutches the medallion to his heart and averts his eyes from the smug smile of the angel. He turns his gaze to the stream, catching a glimpse of the smoky wings of the angel in the water's reflection. Funny that his imagination starts working at full power again at the exact moment the rest of him seems to shut down.
Behind the supernatural being, Ben sees a bluish-white light shaping itself into a vaguely human form. Startled, he quickly snaps his head up. It isn’t just his imagination: there is a young woman glowing blue walking towards them. As she comes closer, the angel stutters and steps back. Ben can see his head getting blurry as if it wants to morph into somebody else’s face, and the shadow of a lion’s mane obscures his bald scalp. He can see this transformation, but his attention is mainly on Her.
She looks younger than he expected, with long dark hair not at all covered by a veil. In fact, she looks a little like Max, and she has a beautiful runic pattern tattooed on her bare arms. Her smile is kind yet somewhat sad when she looks at him.
As she nears the forest patch where he is rooted, transfixed by her mere presence, she gently speaks to him:
“Follow the stream, Ben. Your road is still long and meandering, but if you promise to follow it to the end, the water will lead you where you want to go. The Styx will find you if you are true to your word. When she does, bathe in her waters: it can ensure the sanctity of an oath. Thus, making you worthy of the peace you crave.”
Ben can do nothing but stare at the Blue Lady. As she starts to fade away in a resurgence of bluish-white light, taking the angel with her, he is left with nothing but Hope. And that is more than he ever had in most of his life.
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"kill them with kindness" WRONG destiel kiss made from emojis
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Holy shit, they got Voyager 1 working again!
15 billion miles away and NASA was able to tweak code packages on one of the onboard computers and it worked and Voyager 1 is sending signals back to earth for the first time since November.
Incredible!
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i learned about Marion Stokes, a Philadelphia woman who began taping whatever was on television in 1979 and didn’t stop until her death in 2012.. The 71,000 VHS and Betamax tapes she made are the most complete collection preserving this era of TV. They are being digitized by the Internet Archive. (x)
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As @staff further refine the polls while they're rolling them out (still haven't gotten mine sadly), here's a suggestion of mine: Polls with a ten year time limit.
As of right now, it's impossible for polls to turn into long-running legendary posts. You can try, sure (see the bug race), but it's a week and then it's locked, fixed, done, and all that's left is for people to reminisce about that time there was a poll.
On the other hand, if a ten year poll gets popular, it can become part of Tumblr lore while still being updated. People can write passionate appeals for their vote and fight in the notes. Others can make graphs to show how the poll's majorities shift with each different US president or Taylor Swift album. People can make memes about "remember 2025, when option 3 was in the lead? That was a crazy time".
Why ten years, though, instead of a hundred or just no time limit? Because that way, the end becomes an event. People who voted in the poll when it was just a few hours old can watch the final countdown together, and there's a new point in Tumblr history: That day when we finally all agreed on the best option, and presumably also some important political stuff happened.
Now, granted, most ten year polls would never reach this level of notoriety. But it only takes a few polls like this to be worthwhile. Maybe this shouldn't be an option for users to select, but something the Tumblr website grants/pushes on you at random?
So, yeah. Ten year polls. They should be a thing.
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Burbiškis manor tulips in a bed of snow.
Photos: Laura Prascevičiūtė
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Is it a coincidence I started writing on my WIP not long after I saw that the WIP Big Bang was on its way? I think not. It might be a sign from the writing gods.
WIP BIG BANG SIGN-UPS ARE LIVE!
The 2024 round of WIP Big Bang is now open for sign-ups! Any fandom is welcome, as long as the fic is 500 completed so far and will be at least 7,500 words upon its finishing. Signing up is easy: just fill out the form linked below after you read the FAQ and take a look at the schedule.
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floating duck 🍑
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[my edits] [their caps]
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I saw you are doing spn ladies fanart. Would you consider my favorite alive girl eileen leahy?
Eileen 💖
if anyone wants to support me ☕
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Republicans would never do this for American workers… NEVER…
But Biden did...
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I think I liked it that much because it felt sincere. The actors committed to the bits (the parody of Christmas movies, the meta awareness of being in a musical, the pathos of personal drama, the lightheartedness of the comedy) all the way. They believed in every part of this movie, sincerely.
That made the film worthy to me. To watch and maybe even rewatch.
Spirited
I watched the 2022 Christmas movie today for the first time. I know, it's late April. And I want to know if I'm the only one who cried during this cheesy stereotypical but heartfelt parody of a musical?
I like Ryan Reynoldswll enough, but I never was a fan of Will Ferrell. And yet I feel like they both acted the crap out of this movie. Literally. It was crappy and over the top, but Octavia Spencer is anchoring this silly comedy into something real and heartfelt.
Raynolds and Ferrell are also pretty good dancers!
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*SIGHS*
Another AO3 app that's pretending to be official when it's not (or at least isn't making it clear its unofficial.) They're using AO3's name and logo, and embedding ads.
There is no official AO3 app
Someone else is gathering your data, potentially your log in information etc and making use of it how they please. (They say they're not but their privacy policy says otherwise)
They are making money from the ads without the fic writer's consent.
They've also rated it Pegi 3 (which is ludicrous)
Please, even if you care about nothing else, for the safety of your data, please don't use this app. Certainly don't give it your AO3 log in details.
I've told AO3 that it's infringing on its copyright. I will be requesting they remove access of my work as I do not consent to my creative content being used to generate ad revenue for them.
I will be reporting it as incorrectly rated.
The only email address I can find is [email protected] which is included in their privacy policy, and [email protected] as their developer.
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