#I did not know how to end it

[soaringonblackwings]

Title: Tail-fin

Summary: Crow gains his wings.

Chapters: 1/1

Crow breached his head out of the water. He climbed onto the rocky ground and looked up to the ceiling. This place was a cave. There was an opening at the top where the sky was visible. From above his trusty friend Gale flew into the cave with him. Right now, the full moon was partially visible from the opening above. Crow could see a quarter of it. This place was called a moon pool by mermaids. It is a gathering place for mermaids. Especially if they needed to do something related to magic. Which is precisely why Crow is here today.

There was an opening to the cave on the ground too. From the entrance his human friend, Brave, walked in. “Heya!”

“Did you bring everything?” Crow asked excitedly.

Brave opened his messenger bag and pulled out a mason jar, a metal straw, and he pulled out some long plastic gloves too.

“I came prepared.” Braved smiled.

Crow smiled, the tip of his tail fin shaking with joy. He looks up at the ceiling. The moon was slowly inching across the sky.

“Excited?” Brave asks.

“Very. I researched everything. All i need is to ingest the water powered by the full moon with what animal I want.” Crow looks at Gale. “That is where you come in Gale. I’ll need one of your feathers.”

Gale flaps his wings, agreeing to help.

“I hope you don’t need to swallow the feather.” Brave cringed at the thought.

“If I must.” Crow was determined to get his wings. “I don’t want your help to go to waste.”

“Ha ha! Oh, don’t worry about that.” Brave waves. “I’m just happy to help a friend.”

The began to reach the center of the viewfinder. Crow backed away from the pool as it began to glow and bubble. This was the only time a mermaid being near the Moon Pool was bad. This would turn them fully human and they wouldn’t be able to turn back until the next full moon in a Moon Pool. So Crow was very anxious about any drop of water getting on him.

Brave threw him a pair of gloves and put on a pair himself. He collects the bubbling water into the mason jar. Gale plucks off a feather and puts it into the jar. The three look on as the feather dissolves in the bubbling water. Brave stirs the concoction before handing it off to Crow.

The ginger mermaid gulps down the concoction in one go. His body began to glow. He rolled over onto his stomach as his body shook. From his lower back, where the human skin and mermaid tail met, small protrusion began to form. It increased forming wings that grew glistening black feathers like Gale’s own feathers. The wings contoured to the lower half of Crow’s body. Once the transformation was Donne, Crow was breathing heavily.

“How do they look?” Crow mumbled, his breath ragged. Brave ran over to him.

“They are shiny.” Brave says, patting the wings. “And fluffy!”

Crow turned over with what little energy he had. He attempted to move the right wing only to smack Brave back with the sporadic movement.

“I’m sorry! I guess I need to practice controlling them.”

“You think!” There was no malice in his voice, not even slight annoyance. He was enjoying himself.

Crow was examining his wing. He had a childlike gleam in his eyes. Like he had gotten the gift he was begging for.

“Thank you Brave! Thanks Gale! I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Crow gave the duo a hug. Above the moon was passing by. The Moon Pool had began to still. Now that it was safe, Crow was going to fly. He gestured for Brave and Gale to give him space. He spread out his wings and began to flap. Gusts of wind formed in the cave and crow slowly became airborne. His flight wasn’t perfect. But it was enough to hover in place.

“Cool! Try moving towards the pool.” Brave said.

Crow nods and tilts his body to the right. He was very stiff with his movements, but made it above the water. The moon had fully passed and now the Moon Pool was back to normal. Crow could fall into the water safely. He drops himself into the pool.

“That was amazing!” Crow yelled. His wings were curled around him. He dived underwater and swam around. He still retained his ability to swim. “I can still swim. I was worried about that.”

“It’s getting late, we should go home.” Brave said.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to see what my brothers say. Can you still meet up here later this week?” Crow said.

The duo went their separate ways. Now that Crow has his wings, he can fly like he always wanted to.

[imperatorrrrr]

Dougie/Siegs

okay, Anon, you did not specify anything in particular with Dougie/Siegs, so I'm doing a little bit of an AU, I hope thats okay? if its not, please just re-prompt me and I will do what you envisioned!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonas is going to do it. Jonas is going to ask Dougie out on a date.

He can't wait anymore.

They've been working at this high school for over two years now: Dougie teaching AP Art History, while Jonas teaches Home Economics.

And since that first day when they sat next to each other during Summer Orientation, Jonas has been slowly, but surely, falling more and more in love with Dougie each passing day.

Soft spoken, beautiful inside and out, gentle giant, Dougie Hamilton, who has made his classroom a safe space for all those students that don't want to go home right away, who has somehow made Art History a fun class, who smiles so easily and brightens everyone's day by just being there.

How couldn't Jonas fall in love?

Dougie is currently sitting across from Jonas in Jonas' kitchen/classroom. He's pouring over his field trip itinerary. Dougie is taking his students to the Brooklyn Museum at the end of the week. He's planning out the perfect route to make sure they hit all the exhibits he wants his pupils to see. He's been working and re-working the entire museum outing for days now.

And Jonas is making Dougie an omelet.

Its their routine. Every Wednesday morning, they get to the school a little earlier than everyone else and Jonas makes them breakfast, while Dougie works on his lesson plans. Its their little mid-week reprieve. Giving them a chance to breathe before its time to barrel through the rest of the school week. Sometimes they'll indulge with pancakes or waffles, most weeks its just some sort of egg dish, and there was that one memorable week where Dougie wanted to cook for Jonas; even Jonas needs to admit Dougie's quiche surprised him with how delicious it was.

Jonas puts the finishing touches on his and Dougie's omelets and sets the plates on the counter in between them, a counter thats already filled with their coffee mugs, Jonas' own lessons plans for the week, and Dougie's Brooklyn Museum Binder™️, but as soon as Dougie hears the clink of the plates being set down on the table, all his work is forgotten and the focus is Jonas and the food Jonas has made for him.

Jonas always lets Dougie take the first bite before he digs in, always needing to see and hear Dougie's reaction before he can eat himself. And Dougie always indulges him, always tells Jonas exactly what he thinks.

"Jo! This is it. This is the best one yet. You have to add this to your next breakfast lesson," Dougie almost can't decide whether to compliment Jonas more or to continue eating. He's fighting between looking at Jonas and looking down at his plate to get himself the next bite.

Jonas has been trying to perfect the fluffy Japanese omelet recipe he found for three weeks now, so he ducks his head taking a bite of his own omelet, trying to hide his blush, never being able to take any of Dougie's praise, but still craving it.

"Seriously, Jo! You nailed it," Dougie's downright inhaling the omelet at this point like if he doesn't eat it fast enough it'll disappear.

He looks absolutely ridiculous. There's a pen behind one of his ears and a pen mark from a completely different colored pen on his cheek, while he shovels mouthful after mouthful of fluffy omelet into his face.

"Fuck, I love you."

Jonas freezes.

But, Dougie, his face brightens, opens up completely, a wide grin takes over, and his eyes look almost unbelieving for a moment until they look downright gleeful.

Jonas groans.

"For fucks sake, I was going to ask you out on a date and do it right."

"Jo...we've been going on dates every Wednesday morning for the past two years."

"Oh."

Dougie rolls his eyes, "I'm going to finish this omelet and then I'm going to walk around this counter and I'm going to kiss you, egg breath and all. You have until then to get yourself together."

[njk-mr]

HIMMMMMMMMM

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[kathaynesart]

REPLICA PLAYLIST

MUSIC UNDER CUT

I have been receiving requests for any songs that inspired Replica, so here, have my personal playlist. Sorry it’s not Spotify/Soundcloud but they don’t have some of these songs available so uh… guess you’re stuck with YouTube vids. For fun I'll include my personal titles for them (which might give a few hints of what to expect in the future/end).

Replica Main Theme - “Die for You” by Grabbitz Like Father Like Son Like Brother (Omega and Shelldon) - "As Above So Below" by Alistair Lindsay Mikey's Theme / The 1st Vision - "Suzume no Tojimari" by Nanoka Hara Military (Mad) Dogs / Central Park Colony - "Imperium" by Madeon Shanghai - "Icarus" by Madeon Boom Goes the Donnie-mite (Mikey/Donnie vs the Sweeper) - "The Red Zone" by Mitsuoto Suzuki The Day the Sky Bled Red - "7 Seconds Till the End" by Nobuo Uematsu Going Out Like a Boss (Raph and Leo) - "Agape" by Nicholas Britell Remembering the Right Way (Mikey and Leo) - "The Souls of Many" - by Alistair Lindsay Mystic Hands / The 2nd Vision - "Am I Dreaming" by Metro Boomin x A$AP Book 2 Trailer - "Sea Dragon" by Covet 7 Years Later - "Iron" by Woodkid Leo's Theme / Attack on the Labor Camp - "Ego Death" by Polyphia Omega's Theme - "Touch" by Daft Punk Flat Lines (Omega Alone) - "Die Toteninsel Emptiness" by 1000 Eyes Spear - "Monsters" by Tommee Profitt Final Protocol - "The Kraken" by Katie Dey Rise / Epilogue - "Close in the Distance" by Masayoshi Soken & Tom Mills

I will admit, it's a little embarrassing since you can easily see the patterns of what I've been listening to for the past year or two. I swear I listen to more than just videogame OSTs, these songs just jive well with the story and I often find lyrics distracting when brainstorming scenes. Regardless, the music I listen to is such an important part of my creative process and some of these songs really defined the scenes I now have locked in my head. So I figured it was only fair to give them the credit they're due.

I will continue to add to this playlist, and will note in comic updates when one of these songs is applicable!

[khairosclerosis]

🃏 and it's our word,

yes, our word,

against theirs

for curtain call, the ace attorney musical zine!

[uncharted-constellations]

Them, your honor

Anyways thank you echoes for giving poor a-ttp link a rest

[sarcastic-clapping]

LET YOUR DAD DIE: IT'S FINE IT'S FINE IT'S WHAT HE DID TO HIS DAD.

Lestat + Claudia: Patricide & The Cycles of Violence - INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (2022) - Catherine Lacy, "Cut" (2019) / Anne Rice, "The Vampire Lestat" (1985) / Anne Rice, "Interview with the Vampire" (1976)

[noornight]

Long distance besties. This definitely happened after the third movie (source: trust me bro)

Based on this

[lotus-pear]

mourning black and the death of ideals

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Ooh, you want to know what happens at the gay bar run by ex-pirates, ooh...You'll just have to read Tiger Tiger to find out...

(Inspired by this Disco Elysium comic)

[basslinegrave]

pin-up

b&w originals

[evelynpr]

Congratulations My Hero Academia for providing, possibly, the biggest and longest legit straightbaiting yet in shonen history.

Bonus points that their final chapter was released on yaoi day.

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[r0semultiverse]

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE ORIGINAL MARCELINE OF THE WINTER KING'S UNIVERSE!? 😨

Is the implication that Ice King took her out with all of the other oozers or did the oozers end up killing her?? Either way, it seems that this Simon was not coping well with any of what was going on in his life. Living a life of hypocrisy & ruling a false kingdom.

[teh-inggris]

pvp civ nation...... this aint much but pls take my contribution for this series bc im going insane i love hate this man so much get him out of my head