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It's a bit too soon for more silly questions, I think, but I desperately need a side project. So!
Give me a character I know, and I will tell you which of the Endless they belong to.
A responsible meme-doer would now list the eligible fandoms, but we're talking about me here. So, usual rules: if you give me a character I don't know, I'll just ask you for another one.
Give me a character I know, and I will tell you which of the Endless they belong to.
A responsible meme-doer would now list the eligible fandoms, but we're talking about me here. So, usual rules: if you give me a character I don't know, I'll just ask you for another one.
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He can see, or he thinks he can see, who he is supposed to be, what he is supposed to accomplish. And he fights against it. Any setbacks (caused by his actions in the first place, but nevermind that) can only be temporary. For he is smarter, more willful, more spiteful than Destiny, and he will not be bowed to Destiny's will.
But Destiny doesn't care. It's all written in his book too, with as great emphasis as the desperate fluttering of a small owlet moth that has lighted on fly paper. A dandelion seed resisting gravity.
One time, in a bar, Vril meets another Coluan expatriate, who surprises Vril by recognizing him but not being at all afraid. Of course, the other Coluan's obviously been away from the homeworld for some time; he's off-puttingly quick to find amusement in Vril's words, and seems to fill more space than he should. But under that, he still has the manner of a scientist.
He lends Vril a secret: that there's no difference between embracing and fighting your fate. There is no winning (nor losing, no endgame scenarios at all) and the only way out is to let go.
But Vril has no interest in other people's opinions.
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And aww, Destruction! It's a lost cause, though. XD
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...I want to see if you know this one
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George O'Malley, then.
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I'm going to go with Desire. He wants. He wants (specific) women, or talent, or respect... and whenever he gets close enough to hold a thing he wants it falls to ashes between his fingers.
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But there's always one, finally, to fall back on.
Alex hesitates at the threshold. She turns back - unsure if she’s about to call to Gene that she’s changed her mind, or ask him again to come with her - but he seems further away than the steps she’s taken from him can account for. The street he stands on is darker than she’s sure it had been, and when she tries to focus through the night, Gene’s face is ill defined in the shadows, like he’s a dream she’s half woken from.
So instead, Alex takes a breath, walks through.
She finds herself in, as promised, a pub. It’s dark and musty smelling, and the decor seems dated, even for the 1980s. There’s a sign swinging overhead near the door: Closing Time, 9:06.
Shaz, Chris and Ray are seated at a back table, talking animatedly with a grey haired woman Alex doesn’t know. They seem well into a round - probably not their first, by the flush across Chris’ cheekbones, but Alex shakes off the instinct warning her that time is behaving inappropriately. She’s had practise enough by now.
Shaz laughs at something the older woman says and rests her arm against the woman’s shoulder. A relative, Alex thinks. Or a very close friend. The stranger’s corner is messy with peanut shells and empty bottles and a forgotten crossword.... If she and Shaz had been expecting to meet, Shaz is late for the appointment.
Chris catches Alex’s eye and waves an invitation, but Alex nods him off. There’s a man at the bar who’s caught her attention.
The hair and the jacket are different than she’s seen him wear, but Alex has spent too long looking for Sam fucking Tyler not to recognize him fifteen feet away. He’s sitting at the bar, having a slow discussion with the bartender and two women beside him. One is Annie Tyler (nee Cartwright), Alex knows from sketches and photographs. The other...
She tilts her head to Alex, exposing a dark swirl of makeup over clown-white skin, and the world beyond Alex’s head goes abruptly silent. The other woman - a girl, really, Alex might ask to see her identification - is twisting off her stool, standing, walking towards Alex. She’s smiling; it’s the most welcoming smile Alex has seen. And she hasn’t seen it for so, so long.
When the woman is close enough, she offers Alex a hand. Alex takes it in both of her own. She’s expecting it to be cool, like holding white alabaster, but it’s not. It’s warm and soft and reassuringly solid. Alex remembers the first time she held Molly’s infant fist carefully in her palm, amazed that the slight tactile connection between them could be the most important thing she’d ever experienced. Even though it was all brain chemistry, of course. Alex wonders if that still applies - or if perhaps the habit of brain chemistry is enough - but she finds she doesn’t care.
“I’m sorry,” Alex says. “I got lost. But I’ve been trying so hard to find my way home.”
When the woman meets Alex’s eyes, it’s like there’s nothing else real in the pub. On a level Alex doesn’t like to acknowledge, she’s known that since stepping inside.
“Alex, you don’t have to apologize. No one ever gets lost,” Death promises. “Everyone comes to me, in the end. Just sometimes they take a different path.”
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As for *sketches* of Annie--I think the word I need here is, "Oh, Sam."
I adore that she thinks of Molly there, of beginnings in the midst of endings. the habit of brain chemistry is so very Alex, qualifiers all the way down, and equal parts homesick and analytical to the last.
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I adore that she thinks of Molly there, of beginnings in the midst of endings.
One of the things I like about this version of Death is that she's more exactly Threshold than Ending. It makes it... easier... somehow.
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So, like, I can assign him if you really want, because the issue's not that I don't follow the canon, but I could probably give a more satisfying (read: less pulled out of my ass) answer for another character. Your call!
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(I'd call Higgs as Destruction's, myself - even when it's to protect others, there's very little left standing when he's done his work.)
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Gus is Destruction's.
By which I mean, Gus was meant to be Destruction's, but Destruction abdicated his position before Gus' time came around. Still, there's a level on which Gus that knows he's missing *something*, and he tries to find it by absorbing information about the world. All that passion on unrelated geeky minutiae... in another universe, he would be focussed on finding new ways to make things burn, brighter and hotter and more completely than previous generations had imagined.
Shawn, poor guy, is Desire's, and you'd be forgiven for looking at their antics and thinking he and Gus are a matched pair. But what Gus is yearning for - in the hidden place where his soul was never fully finished - isn't in Desire's purview.
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Batman. Because he ACTS like Dream, but I can't see him as being Dream's.
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So I am taking the opportunity you've provided to break out the photo manipulating software!