#PERHAPS LITERALLY THE SONG IS CALLED HELLFIRE

[disordercinema]

FEVER 333 ON THE ARCANE S2 SOUNDTRACK

FEVER 333 ON THE ARCANE S2 SOUNDTRACK

FEVER 333 ON THE ARCANE S2 SOUNDTRACK

FEVER 333 ON THE ARCANE S2 SOUNDTRACK

FEVER 333 ON THE ARCANE S2 SOUNDTRACK

FEVER 333 ON THE ARCANE S2 SOUNDTRACK

[canadachildvol2]

Wish rewrite ✨ pt.3

This is the third part of my rewrite of "Wish." The first part is here and the second is here.

Things are starting to heat up now. Hold on tight!

Finding proof: Asha and Star sneak into the castle the same way she did last time (him using his abilities greatly simplifies this particular break-in lol) and she takes him to the room that’s holding the wishes. He floats up towards them to get a closer look, staring at each almost lovingly. In contrast to how a few days ago, she would impatiently tell him to focus whenever he was distracted, she gently tells him they need to focus. After some searching for evidence, (including a humorous bit where Star finds a dumb waiter and Asha says “Well, that would have made things SO MUCH easier the last time I was here”), he finds a secret passage to another room. The two investigate and find it to be full of books, scrolls, and artifacts covered in cobwebs. They look around, with Star finding an old journal, but before he can open it, Asha calls him over to a book she found. It’s titled “The Chronicles of Stars” and it contains info about the history of Rosas; stuff that Asha was never taught nor was anyone else. Star suddenly hears Magnifico coming. They leave the room with the book in tow and close the passage before hiding on the same balcony Asha did before. They’re relieved… until Asha notices her bracelet is gone! It fell off in their haste to exit the secret room. As Magnifico starts to reopen the entrance, Star sneaks past him disguised as a mouse and finds her bracelet. He takes it and hides while watching Magnifico read from the old journal. It was written by the king from many years ago who started the whole wish granting system. It has the evidence that Asha needs; formulas, spells, everything pertaining to capturing and destroying wishes and gaining more power. While he continues reading, Star sneaks back out and onto the balcony with the bracelet. Asha is so happy that she hugs him, thanking him repeatedly. He blushes (his cheeks glow brighter) and is stunned. They then use the dumb waiter to escape.

Magnifico finds book missing; “This is the Thanks I Get?”: Magnifico is becoming more agitated as he looks through the journal. He wants to know if there’s anything he can do about this bad omen, but the text fails to tell him anything he doesn’t already know. His eyes wander and he notices a gap on one of the book shelves. A specific book is missing. His frustration reaches a boiling point and he storms out to the main room. Amaya enters and finds him visibly angry. She asks him what’s wrong and he replies “You called them a ‘traitor’. No, no, I think a ‘rat’ is more appropriate.” He elaborates on one of the “forbidden history books” being gone and she’s alarmed. Finding whoever is challenging their power is of the utmost importance now and Amaya leaves to prepare. This version of “This Is the Thanks I Get?” has a more ominous tone. It starts off calm like “Be Prepared” and “Hellfire” and it gradually escalates, conveying how Magnifico is losing control (literally and figuratively). It culminates into him yelling the title in pure rage at the end of the song, much like in the movie. The lyrics highlight how ungrateful Rosas is - in his eyes, anyway - and scoffs at how these peasants think they’re more powerful than him. It also shows how determined he is to not be the king who ruins this great empire. There’s an additional scary bit where he proclaims that he’ll find the traitor and “snuff out [their] light” while crushing a random object in his hand to emphasize his point.

History lesson: Asha mulls over the history book as she and Orion/Star walk through town. When she admits that it won’t be enough to get the people on their side, he tells her (through body language and very tiny star dust images that no one but her can see) about the old journal. She’s excited to hear this and says that perhaps their endeavour will be over soon, which makes them both pause. This is good news… right? They make their way to the bakery, but unbeknownst to them, someone overheard their plans of taking down Magnifico and Amaya: Simon. The pair meet with Dahlia, who is gobsmacked that they stole something from the castle. Still, she joins in on reading the book, finding it too enticing to ignore. Before the inception of wish granting, the people of Rosas looked to the stars. They told stories about them, created legends, believed that they were magical, and they helped the kingdom prosper because of the hope they brought. Asha, Dahlia, and everyone else was taught that Rosas before the wish granting era was struggling and in chaos (as was said in “Welcome to Rosas”). Why would the royals lie and seal this part of their history away? Orion/Star excuses himself outside when he notices Sabino helping another person with their wish. Sabino compliments his and Asha’s efforts in lifting everyone’s spirits, noting that there’s been a ripple effect of people helping each other. Orion/Star looks around and sees that the people still look tired, albeit not nearly as downtrodden. He spots the town's tavern and a few townspeople whose wishes were a variation of wanting to play music and he gets an idea.

Simon’s betrayal: As Amaya gets everything in order for a kingdom-wide search for the traitor, a guard approaches and tells her that a commoner has info about someone conspiring against her and the king. The royal couple meet with Simon, who tells them about Asha’s plans, what she's been doing, and that she stole a book from them. Both are pleased by the intel and Magnifico summons Simon’s wish: he wants to be a brave and honourable knight. “Thank you, Simon,” he says. “You’ve been very helpful.” He crushes the wish and absorbs its power. Simon is shocked and the couple order that he be taken to the dungeon. “But my wish… why did you…?” Simon asks in disbelief. “You ratted out a friend for selfish gain,” Amaya answers. “You’re not fit to be brave and honourable.” Simon is left speechless as he’s dragged off. Back in the wish room, Magnifico expresses his excitement about bringing Asha in. He also pulls out a magical staff that has been passed down throughout the wish granting era. Amaya glances up at the remaining wishes and tells her husband that she has a better idea on how to put an end to all this nonsense.

Tavern party: Asha and Dahlia leave the bakery still contemplating what they read. Their chat eventually turns towards Orion/Star; specifically him and Asha. Asha tells her nothing will happen even though it’s obvious she feels something, too. (“Besides, he’ll be leaving Rosas soon.” “It’s possible that he may choose to stay.” “Maybe… but let’s be realistic.”) They’re interrupted by a party going on in the nearby tavern. Everyone seems so happy and carefree; a stark contrast to what the two friends are used to seeing. And encouraging this merriment is Orion/Star. Dahlia is effortlessly won over by the atmosphere and Asha, while enjoying the sight of everyone having fun, keeps to herself. There’s singing, dancing, funny stories told in musical form, it’s a blast! After a while, Orion/Star approaches Asha and holds his hand out (Would you like to dance?). She accepts and joins in on the group dancing. (during "Welcome to Rosas" and the "Montage" song, we got hints of Asha's dancing talents, but she has restrained herself from actually showing it... until now) Bystanders cheer her on and she’s clearly soaking up the good vibes. She feels free and at ease for the first time in years. A humorous accident brings the music to an abrupt halt and Asha laughs along with everyone else. Orion/Star sees her full of such joy and smiles adoringly. He’s head over heels. After a heart-to-heart with Sakina about how everyone seems happier, Asha and Orion/Star leave to be alone.

(It’s worth noting that this party scene is a nod to the ‘Silly Song’/‘Yodel Song’ sequence in “Snow White,” right down to a comedic accident (i.e. Sneezy sneezing and sending Dopey flying) ending it)

Magnifico and Amaya frame Asha: The people are summoned to an emergency announcement from the king and queen. Feigning grief and outrage, they tell their subjects that Asha has destroyed all the wishes. Everyone is shocked, though many are confused. That doesn't sound right. She's been helping them make their wishes come true. Magnifico convinces them that she's been manipulating them into turning against him and Amaya. (akin to Frollo's "That wasn't kindness! That was cunning!" remark to Quasimodo about Esmeralda) Moreover, he points out that she has not helped everyone. Their charisma and fake compassion for the people's well-being unfortunately works on a majority of the residents. Not all are swayed; Sakina sticks up for her daughter, saying that she would never do something so horrible. Sabino agrees, then Dario, then a few other townspeople. "Well, it's clear where your loyalties lie," Magnifico says in an icy tone before ordering them to be sent to the dungeon, along with anyone else who sides with Asha. Dahlia doesn't say anything.

Asha and Star alone; “At All Costs”: After walking through the woods, Asha and Star reach the shore. She confesses that she can't believe all that they have achieved so far. "It's like a dream," she says. They look out at how the stars in the sky are beautifully reflected on the ocean. It's here that they grasp with the inevitability of him leaving after they save Rosas. She has accepted it ("Let's be realistic" as she often says). He hasn't. It would mean leaving her. He thinks for a moment before standing her directly in front of him. His fingers touch her lips, then his, then he runs them along her ears leaving a trail of star dust. Before she can question what he did, she hears a deep, soft voice: "Asha." It's him! It's Star! "You can...?" "Not for long." Unlike the other songs, "At All Costs" is almost exactly like its original version (i.e. the demo version). Admittedly, some lyrics are clunky and need tweaking, but other than that it's largely the same. In this sequence, there's levitation, dancing in the air and on the water, decorating her dress with star dust, and when they sing "There's no ocean I won't swim across" they create a wave to cascade around them, showering them in the reflection of the stars above. Additionally, while Asha will periodically take time to marvel at the gorgeous sights around her, Star rarely - if ever - takes his eyes off her. An all-around romantic and magical number. It ends with them landing back on the shore where they started, the star dust along Asha's ears disappearing. They hesitantly lean in to kiss... until Star suddenly turns his head towards the city. He hears something. Rosas sounds like it's in a frenzy.

pt.4 / pt.5

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

all i have left to give

(AU) Steve Harrington x gn!reader

[a/n] If you haven't listened to Thousand Below’s latest album go check it out, I am literally obsessed with it. This is another song fic for Stevie cause he lowkey gives me soft angsty vibes. i’m not entirely sure about the end but I've spent months working on this piece trying to put my thoughts into words, cause the love I have for this song is beyond belief. As always reblogs are always appreciated and I would appreciate it even more if you would check out my latest fics as they have got zero attention and I’m feeling a lil insecure about them.

[warnings?] The upside down doesn’t exist, all ‘adult’ characters are aged down (18/19 yrs) and are all in their final year of high school. really its just angsty miscommunication/misunderstandings with a happy ending (although slightly ambiguous?). Also I have no idea how the american school system works so… and in the UK prom happens after you finish secondary school so thats what i’m going with for this.

other works available here!

20 odd years looking for the same heartbeat found in your rapport,

I see your eyes gleam and you’re happy with him.

You know the saying “you don’t realise what you have until it’s gone” well that never rung truer to Steve then it did right now. He’d been so caught up in a hurricane of mixed emotions that he’d completley neglected the one person who stood by him through all his parent's bullshit and more, you had seen him at both his best and worst yet you loved him regardless, even when he was being a huge asshole towards you, you couldn’t stop the swell of your heart beating against your ribcage, threatening to break through. You were there for him in a way no-one else ever was, whenever he was upset or frustrated you would hold him in your arms, wrapping him up like a saftey net and gently run your fingers through his soft hair, whispering that it was okay and that he was safe. He would cry on your shoulder almost shaking with nerves and sometimes anger and although it worried you, you let him continue until he could finally tell you what was wrong because in the end no matter what had happened, the two of you always confided in each other no matter how fucked up the situation may be. 

He didn’t even realise he’d lost you until he pulled up to school in his worn down car, he’d had a shitty couple of days which had made him irritated and all he wanted right now was to be wrapped in your soothing embrace, his parents constantly on his back about how much of a disappointment he was to them. It was never a “hi son, how are you?” Or “I’m so proud of you” and while he expected it from them, he still hoped that one day they might show him just a little care, yet that never happened. However, he didn’t expect the sight he saw, stopping in his tracks while his mood dampened even further. 

Edward Munson the resident freak had one arm wrapped around your shoulder, the other holding a cigarette. The smile that graced your face and the way you looked up at him with a fond gaze broke steve in half. You were wearing the infamous Hellfire club t-shirt, matching with Eddie and while his bad reputation stood stronger than ever, you looked like an angel. The two of you looked close, closer then he would’ve liked and it made him wonder how long the two of you had been a thing? How much had he missed?…

Steve wasn’t jealous. No. Why would he be? He just wasn’t used to seeing you with other guys, usually it was always just the two of you. Never needing anyone else when you had each other. Although, he had to admit he had been somewhat distant recently but not to the point where you would stop being friends with him and seek comfort from someone else, right? 

i’ll keep my distance so the light never dims.

Perhaps he’d been an idiot. Scratch that. He had been an idiot not even noticing how the last text you’d sent was weeks ago, how the daily calls the two of you had were all replaced by multiple missed calls that never got answered by him. He didn’t notice how you no longer had week long sleepovers together or midnight adventures to get ice cream. And he most certainly hadn’t noticed how your parents no longer greeted him when they saw him out and about, deciding to simply smile and wave from afar with a pitiful look in their eyes. 

Looking back on it now he should have known. He should have noticed. He was supposed to be your best friend, your twin flame yet he’d given all of that up to chase popularity and other girls, only seeking you for his own comfort and never for yours. He had become the man he said he would never be. He was selfish and greedy, too stupid to put his pride and ego aside and apologise to you, more than willing to throw away everything you had together. How he hadn’t realised the sparkle in your eyes dull and the smile on your face grow tired? He felt physically sick just thinking about it, he’d taken the years of friendship for granted and the one time he really needed you, he no longer had you. 

It was no secret Steve’s parents cared more about their reputation and money then they did him but your family had practically raised him, filling the evergrowing gap his parents carved out. Not only had he turned his back on you but your family as well. His thoughts were spiraling out of control, making him dizzy with guilt and shame. Your parents probably thought he was a piece of shit. oh god. What if they saw him in the same way his parents did? He thought being rejected by his parents hurt, well the pain of this realisation tore him from the inside out.

but tell me i’m not dead

tell me it’s okay,

tell me we might’ve worked on a simplier day.

Believe it or not Steve was a complicated man, he was the shell of a broken boy and wether he liked it or not he was damaged goods. He’d gone majority of his life where his parents constantly brushed him aside as if he meant nothing, eventually he began to believe it. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism of his where he felt the need to constantly push those close to him away, looking for a way to reject them before they did to him, searching for an excuse to explain the damage done to all his past relationships, or perhaps it could be simply explained by the fact that he was an asshole, probably all of the above. Yet, like a toddler throwing a tantrum he refused to change his ways, stuck in a never ending cycle of abuse at his own hands.

He knew he needed to apologise and explain himself to you but he couldnt bring him self to do so. Ashamed of his actions and afraid you would only confirm what he believed. He was a waste of space, not worthy of your love and attention you once gave him. He couldn’t bare to see the disappointment in your eyes, tears threatening to fall, silent echoes in the back of his mind screaming at him to let you go once and for all, knowing that he didn’t deserve you and all he would bring is pain and grief. 

He was a monster. And he did what monsters do best.

Live up to their reputation.

Tell me life goes on, 

Tell me i’ll be fine,

say the pain wil stop, 

it’ll pass in time. 

The first weeks of senior year had to be the worst time of your life, Steve had jumped ship to a bigger and better one, claiming his place as the King of Hawkins High, leaving you to be devoured by the fame hungry commoners and ego fuelled elitists. At first you wanted to believe it was just a phase, that the popularity would work its way through his system and soon he would be back to the Stevie you knew and loved so deeply. As the weeks grew into months you managed to find your place in the hierarchy of school, gaining a reputation for being an outcast, perhaps even a Satan worshipper with help from the one and only Eddie Munson. He’d become a good friend to you, seemingly replacing Steve by filling your time with lessons in DnD and grand monologues quoting his favourite book, Lord of the rings, although, deep down you knew no-one could ever replace Steve, not in the way you hoped. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t be the girl that chases after a guy. You knew your worth but you also desperatly wanted your best friend back. Trying everything you could to get his attention, from leaving notes in his locker, waiting by his car after school, climbing up to his bedroom window in the middle of the night, name it you’d probably done it. Stupidly thinking that you could fix whatever had gone wrong between the two of you, believing that you were the reason he no longer wanted you. 

It was only when you noticed despite all the attempts that he didn’t seem too bothered by your lack of presense in his life, in fact he seemed happier then ever, leaving you to go crazy wracking your mind with all your flaws and imperfections, wondering why he would ever treat you like this? How he could let you go without even so much as a fight? 

You’d heard about the rumors floating around that he had become a heartbreaker, his reputation for wooing the girls that lusted after him, only to become another notch on his belt, yet a part of you couldn’t believe the sweet young boy you used to know had turned into a douchebag like this. Only once you saw him in the arms of another, his signature smirk painted across his face before he leant in to kiss her, did you realise that the rumors were true. 

Maybe you were naive in thinking Steve would always be by your side, that he would never hurt you, but you couldn’t help but feel the hollow space in your chest everytime you heard of his latest conquest bragging about his performance and how he would promise them the world. His name no longer gave you joy and hope instead leaving a bitter trail of betrayal behind. His voice, the one that used to make butterflies arupt in your somach now made you nauseas with pain, believing all the words he once spoke you truly meant nothing if he repeated them to a dozen others. 

And maybe i’ll belive you then,

and maybe we can just be friends, 

and i could tell you about the things i’ve seen

And you’ll never have to suffer all the pain I keep once again.

You wondered if he was happier he no longer had the weight of your love on his shoulders, he sure seemed it spending his time with a girl round one arm and drink in the other. Had he discovered that the love you still held for him was never strictly platonic but one that ran so deep it would kill you before you ever stopped loving him? You’d wishied it would've already. 

A bitter laugh arose in your throat as you recalled the day that you vowed not to speak to him ever again. A little dramatic for a 7 year old if you asked now but back then it felt like your world was crashing down, hard and fast with no sign of life to appear again. Neither of you could stay mad at each other for long though, forgiving him only a measly 8 hours after he’d put frogs in your favourite sandals and set them to float in the little lake nearby. He’d claimed he was only trying to give them a nice place to sleep, knowing how much you adored the colorful jelly bears that sat on the strap of your sandals, believing that they would make the perfect nest for the green amphibians that would now haunt your dreams; that the love you held for your dollar store sandals and the love he held for his favourite slimy creature would make them invincible to whatever may come to hunt them in the future. 

If only younger you could see you now.

Now that you think about it how he managed to come up with that logic was beyond you considering he was still just a dorky immature child to you, one that you proudly called your best friend. 

Your laugh was soon replaced with a sour expression staining your face, your heart dropping at the thought that you would never be able to return to those simpiler days where nothing really mattered exept for having each other. All you had left of him was ghosts of the past and faint glimmers of memories you once shared together. You were all alone. Your best friend had scrubbed you clean from his life and you’d never live the future you once dreamed of, one that included your Stevie in all aspects.

But i’m not sleeping well these days,

I’ve been better if we’re being honest,

death is all i see in place of a smile,

i can barely stop it.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Steve had invisioned his future so many times and this was never even a possibility; you were always there by his side. He thought he might go to college and if all went well he’d prove his parents wrong. Although even if he did, that wouldn’t matter because you and your family never judged his worth over something so mediocre like a scholarship or a degree. He’d hoped to get a place of his own, eventually have a place to call home where he would raise his brood of Harringtons. If he was lucky he’d finally admit how in love he was with you, how he wanted nothing more than to hold you tight in his arms and never let you go, how he absoluley adored every part of you from your kind and gentle nature towards everyone and anything to the sparkle in your eyes that were filled with oceans of emotion he could happily drown in.  Hell maybe you’d agree to marry him one day, the soft whispers of “i love you” being spoken for as long as you both lived. Eventually in decades to come the story of your love would be passed down to future generations and no longer would the Harrington name be stained by its previous reputation, instead it would continue to flourish with everlasting love and fullfillment that even the most seemingly perfect families would be envious of. 

Unfortunatley though that was just a wish upon a star that would never come true, forever destined to follow in the loveless, narcissistic repuation his parents would gladly pass onto him. As he laid in the confines of his bedroom after a long shift at Scoops Ahoy he couldn’t help the warm tears spill down his face as he scoffed at his younger self for thinking his life had fallen into place back when he’d become the King of Hawkin’s high. Almost hysterical laughter bouncing off the empty walls at the idea that the friends he once had beside him would remain at his side through anything. Simply fucking breaking down at the thought of Nancy Wheeler being the love of his life when all he really wanted was you.

I’m under, it’s over, it just wont show,

I feel it, it’s overloading in my brain i’m sure,

I know it. 

Soon enough, the day came where you and your fellow classmates were no longer confined to the dark corridors of Hawkin’s high school. The day you would venture out into the world and be at the hands of reality to either succeed or succumb to the pressures of society. You didn’t think it would be so emotional but something about standing with groups of people you practically grew up with, saying goodbye weighed heavy on your mind. 

Sure, you didn’t like some of the people but that didn’t mean you wished ill will upon them, plus you weren’t saying goodbye to just the people but everything you thought you knew about the world. For some this change could make or break them however, without the saftey and security of your once best friend, doubt knawed at you, filling you with anxiety. 

Eddie stood beside you, arms linked and proudly smiling at your families in the crowd. You knew there was a graduation party going on at Steve’s though you weren’t sure if you wanted to go, afraid that you wouldn’t be welcome although, Steve would never turn you away. Eddie had tried to convince you, soon giving up and deciding to chill out and revel in the newfound freedom you now had. 

There would be no waking up at 6 am to get ready for school, no more homework you would have to stay up late to complete, no detention for being young and stupid and most definitely no lessons you were forced to attend and listen to. of course that was unless you decided to go to college but why would anyone want to put themselves through more school? 

Steve’s parents thought otherwise, when they found out he didn’t want to attend college they grilled him to no end. If he thought the critisism before was bad, it now was a nightmare, thankfully for the most part they were too busy travelling and doing god knows what while Steve moped around at home. Stripped of his title and left to fend for himself he became a no-one once again, fading into the background in the small town he was trapped in. 

I’ll probably speak your name on my last breath, 

just because,

It’s all that I have left to give.

The days grew longer and nights became lighter as prom approached, Eddie being the non-conformist he was decided prom was not for him which you respected however, that didn’t mean you were happy about the idea of going alone, having no-one to bring you one of those cheesy corsages or match coloured outfits. 

Back to a time that now felt millennias away you and Steve had made a pact that you’d attend prom together as long as you were both single, it didn’t have to be romantic considering neither of you had admitted your feelings for each other but you couldn’t deny the hope bursting in your chest that maybe just maybe he liked you that way. Of course now you knew that would never happen, you would have to be content with your own company perhaps finding solace in being alone, not having to worry about the expectations of prom. 

What you didn’t realise was that Steve was thinking the exact same thing. The time spent apart had given him a lot to think about and reflect on, realising that he had been in the wrong the entire time and while thinking he was doing what was best, resulted in nothing but heartbreak for the both of you. He couldn’t go on like this, stuck in a state of limbo where everything was so grey and dull, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t atleast try to get you back. Lord knows he would spend the rest of his life beating himself up for the mistakes he made, forever wondering about the what ifs? 

He had a plan. With the help of the freshmen kids he’d befriended and babysat in the past year and his former classmate turned good friend Robin, it was set in motion. He just had to hope you would atleast hear him out long enough for him to confess his feelings. Dustin being the little menace he could be convinced you to attend prom with him,as friends of course, afterall he was like a brother to you so you knew you’d at the very least have fun with him. 

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。

So tell me I'm not dead,

tell me it's okay,

tell me we might've worked on a simpler day,

tell me life goes on,

tell me I'll be fine,

You were a jittering mess, nervous to attend prom with the thought of having to face Steve for what could be the very last time. The idea of having to see him in all his perfect glory with his latest girlfriend, acting all lovey dovey while you watched from afar still feeling the hurt he caused you. Thankfully the ring of the doorbell interrupted your thoughts before you could talk yourself out of going, smoothing the sides of your outift you opened the front door not expecting what was on the other side.

The smile you had perfectly curated began to fall at the sight of his messy chesnut hair and nervous smile, pushing back tears you turned your attention to his outfit, a classic suit probably borrowed off his dad and a corsage in hand he stood in all his former glory. For a minute you forgot you were supposed to be mad at him, silently taking in his appearence as if all of this was a twisted dream and would disappear in an instant. 

“what-why are you here?” if the confusion on your face wasn’t apparent then the shakiness in your voice would atleast be, urging yourself to remain strong regardless of the outcome of whatever the hell was happening right now.

“uh I-“ The boy puffed, words spewing from his mouth in a jumble of incoherent sentences “I’m taking you to prom” He stated matter of factly, nodding his head towards his car as a sign that he wasn’t lying. 

“I thought Dustin was taking me?” the sentance came out as more of a question than a statement, making you cringe slightly at your attempted indifference to his presense. 

“Well you see…” He rambled on, fiddling with the corsage in his hands while speaking a million miles an hour, as if he was trying to say as many words as possible before he ran out of breath.

 “and Dustin tied me to the chair” he continued not realising you were zoning in and out trying to comprehend the words leaving his mouth.  "a clown” “JELLO! He made me eat JELLO” emphasis clearly on the Jello and at this point you wondered where exactly this was going because it sure as hell wasn’t convincing you otherwise. 

“I needed to talk to you” The words peaked your interest finally as you looked him dead in the eyes for any sign of deception or humour.

“First of all, couldn’t you have just said that instead of rambling on about clowns and Jello? which frankly I don’t have a flying fuck what that has to do with this and second of all, what makes you think you have the right to talk to me after the way you treated me the past year?” Clearly he wasn’t expecting the sudden anger although, he couldn’t blame you after everything thats happened. Pausing before speaking again, this time in a more calm and collected manner.

“I love you. I’m in love with you” If anyone was watching right now surely you looked like a fish out of water, gasping for air as you processed the words he had the audacity to utter.

“What the fuck?” Now this had to be a nightmare. There was no way you were hearing the boy you dreamed of daily speaking those words to you. For you. It had to be a joke right? His friends put him up to this and yet again at your expense you would become the walking punchbag. “That’s not funny” Attempting to slam the door in his face, not in the mood to deal with his bullshit anymore, prom was not worth this amount of hassle, even more so if it involved Steve Harrington.

“Wait, wait!” he approached begging you to hear him out “I’m serious I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU. PEOPLE OF HAWKINS I AM MADLY IN LOVE WITH Y/N Y/L/N AND I NEED EVERYONE TO-“ 

“what the hell is wrong with you?” Pulling him in frantically in order to keep what little dignity you had left. Thank God your parents weren’t home to witness this, not even sure how you would explain whatever was happening. 

“Please just listen to me. Fuck. You can hit me for all I care, just let me say this” Pleading with those stupid doe eyes you couldn’t help but give in, after all this time they still had the same effect on you, rendering you into a speechless lovesick mess. “I’m an idiot okay? I thought- I know you deserve better then I could ever give you and I thought I was doing the right thing. I wasn’t. I hurt you-I abandoned you. I promised you I would always be there for you and I wasn’t. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry” Tears clouded your vision as you gave into the pull, wrapping your arms around him in an embrace you deeply craved. “I love you and I will spend the rest of my life loving you because you are the only person for me and I had to tell you, you needed to know. I needed to know if i had any chance or if I had fucked us up for good because i can’t live with the regret otherwise, thinking about the what ifs and what could’ve been.”

and you could take my breath,

it's all that I have left to give.

All the pain and anger you felt was erupting from your body, breaking you down in front of him. Sobs wracking your frame as you clinged to him, desperatley needing to be close to him because despite how angry you were at him, he was your rock and you needed him. Just like he needed you. 

It could have been hours or weeks passed by the time you finally had the energy to pull away from him, feeling a sense of guilt for unloading all of these emotions onto him, ashamed that he witnessed the pain he caused you. The pain he didn’t deserve to see because you were better then that, or so you thought. Neither of you knew what to say, unsure of where you stood knowing the next words spoken could make or break your future. The two of you must have looked like a mess, slumped against the front door in a tangle of limbs, your makeup running down your face, hair messy and eyes swollen and red. 

You pondered on his words for a moment wondering if you could truly forgive him for all he’d done. You knew the answer to this yet a sadistic part of you wanted to turn him away and watch him pay for all the damage however, you could never do that not when he had now handed you his heart on a silver platter, saying the words you had longed for him to say to you. 

It would take time to heal and move on but for now you would settle for whatever ‘this’ was, lapping up the stability you felt in his arms, head rested in the crook of your neck, gentle breaths gracing your skin as you ran you fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. Simply content with each others company, basking in the shift that had occured between you, no words needing to be exchanged other than soft whispers of “I love you’s” and “i’m sorry’s” echoing as reminders that you could get through anything together. 

[pathetic-has-been-rockstar]

The bonfire surprise

Pairing: Crowley x reader

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​

Square/s filled: Chestnuts; Sitting by the fire

Warnings: none

Summary: still set to enjoy every bit of winter and holiday traditions, you decide to bring Jack to pick up chestnuts. Crowley joins you on the most innocuous hunt of the year, bringing Juliet along to spice things up. Roasting chestnuts on Hellfire never looked so good.

Words: 3091

Beta: @raspberrymama​ (I’ll never say this enough: check out her works!)

this piece can be found on AO3, here! If you’re interested in the whole series, you just have to click here!

“So... are you coming or not?”

Crowley tilts his head a bit, then nods, looking at you. “You know... yes. Since we've been consistently saving this world, it would be nice to take a walk in it.”

You were surprised when he decided to stick around for Christmas, or at least until the brothers don't actively start to try and kill him. He declared he enjoys the mayhem he can create frustrating Christmas' plans, but you suspect that he's probably just bored by his temporary lack of employment. You give him a small nod.

“Precisely what I was thinking.”

“Great. Now... aren't you forgetting something?”

You run a quick mind inventory, but nothing seems to be missing. “... like what?”

“Like the kid?” Crowley suggests, falsely helpful.

“... oh, no. Jack's in the car from like ten minutes. He can't wait to go.”

Crowley sighs dramatically. “Oh, to be young and eager again. Is it far?”

“About twenty minutes from here... why don't you come with us? You can try and crush Jack's optimism while we go.”

“I can do it on site. I've got someone to pick up, if it's all the same to you.”

“Oh... sure. Of course.” You are slightly curious and, even if you would never admit it, slightly disappointed. You were hoping for some time with Crowley, but he seems to have framed the occasion like a good chance to do... well, anything else.

“Fantastic. I'll see you there.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes, Jack?”, you answer after a second, emerging from your thoughts.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You are just very quiet.”

“I'm just... a bit tired, you know.” Of course you were quiet. You're dying to see who was so important that had to be picked up and brought to what feels like a family thing.

“Sure. So... how's it gonna be?”

Surprised, you throw a side glance at Jack. The kid is smart. “As it's always been, I guess. Why?”

“I've never picked up chestnuts.”

Of course. Of course it was about the chestnuts. You stammer a moment, trying to collect yourself. “Oh, it's fun, actually. You just have to watch out for the shells, actually. They're spikey, y'know. You put on your gloves, then we pick them up from the ground,and  check if there are holes in them. If they're whole we can put them in the baskets.”

“What if there's a hole?”

“Well, that means there's a worm inside. It's not a problem if you accidentally eat it, since it's basically lived inside the thing its whole life and it tastes like that, but... let's just try and avoid it, ok?”

“Sure. No point in killing it just because it's in the wrong place at the right moment.”

You smile, surprised by the tenderness of his heart. The whole argument about his nature before he was born it feels incredibly stupid, now. The kid doesn't even want to kill a worm.

“Precisely. Besides, it might mean that the thing is rotting, and we don't want to deal with the consequences of eating spoilt food. Why don't you put on some music?”

Jack literally beams at the idea. “Can I connect my phone?”

“Sure thing, kid. We have about half an hour to go, connect the Bluetooth and jam away.”

The rest of the ride consists mainly in Jack humming Christmas songs and weird covers of them, while you keep your eyes on the road and occasionally sing along with him.

Once you get there, you immediately spot Crowley. Seeing that he's alone, you tilt your head.

“Weren't you supposed to pick up someone?”

“I did.”

He whistles, and a second later two hellhounds appear next to him, wagging their tails. He smiles at you, clearly satisfied by your surprised expression.

“I'm confident you remember Juliet and Banquo.”

“I do. How... how can I see them?”

“Because I let you.”

“... oh. Thanks, I guess.”

Crowley hints at them with a swift nod. “Go ahead, touch them. I know you'd like to.”

Trying to play it cool, you kneel down and pat the head of Juliet. A second later, Banquo is rubbing his head against your arm, almost throwing you off balance. Crowley immediately notices.

“Banquo. Settle down, boy.”

The hound whimpers and draws back, immediately obeying Crowley, who gives you a satisfied look.

“I trained them myself.”

“I figured that much.” you fire back. Like anyone else could train those hounds to act like that.

You're distracted by Jack calling you. You turn and you see the bundle of scarf, hat and oversized sport coat wandering among the trees and picking up the burrs, only to let them fall again as soon as they sting him. Crowley raises an eyebrow, amused.

“Looks like the most powerful being in existence needs help with picking up some fruit from the ground.”

“... he's three years old.”

“They grow so fast, don't they?”

You turn your back to Crowley and walk to Jack. Juliet and Banquo run around, sniffing the leaves and acting mostly like normal dogs. You notice that, and turn to Crowley, who's been casually waddling around, following you and Jack.

“Why are they like these?”

“What do you mean?”

“They act like normal dogs.”

“They like topside.”

“Don't they have souls to collect, today?”

“They always do.” Crowley replies with a casual scroll of his shoulders.

“Then why are they here?”

“There are other hounds, you know. These two were just the most affectionate to me. In short, useless to dear mother, and very useful for my personal security.”

Of course, you don't know why they're there. You're not a hunter, after all, not in the truest meaning of the word. You've been dragged in there when you ran into Bobby, years earlier, trying to nick a book from your shop. You gave him the book in exchange for some explanations, and it turned out your years of eccentric reading made you pretty useful.

Bobby then started to call you for lore-related things, and it was only a matter of time before the hunters started to use your shop as a sort of base. You started to store magical items, too, and even faced a few monsters on your own. Not exactly your cup of tea, but fun. Crowley knows about this all, obviously. Everyone knows about it. His dogs are there because you are there. The idea of a human dear both to the king of Hell and the future God might inspire some unpleasant thoughts in rogue demons and monsters, so he doesn't want to take any unnecessary risk.

You only see the hounds sprinting away, running after a very lucky squirrel. The little rodent manages to climb up the bark of the chestnut tree just in time, escaping the fangs of the hellish beasts for a split hair. Crowley giggles happily next to you, apparently delighted.

“The dislike for squirrels must run in the family.”

“Yeah... Jack, honey, wait, no.”

Jack has started to climb on the tree, trying to reach the lowest branches, that are still a good seven feet above the ground. He really is a three years old sometimes, but you keep forgetting that. When he falls back on you, you are painfully reminded that he is a three years old in a fully adult body.

Before Jack can do it, Crowley helps you up, smirking.

“Everything fine, love?”

“Yeah, peachy.”

He chuckles and takes a dried leaf off your hair, then gives you an amused smile.

“Looks like you're enjoying yourselves, at least.”

Jack enthusiastically answers for you, then dashes away to inspect a new patch of dried leaves and fallen burrs. When climbing up the trees is finally off the table, you three keep walking in the woods and picking up chestnuts here and there until the baskets are full. You look at your clock, starting to feel the cold seeping through your clothes.

“We still have a couple of hours of good light left. Let's go back to the car, we'll make a fire there.”

“... a fire? What for?”

“Well, we... you know what? It's a surprise. Come on, let's go back.”

Jack smiles in excitement, then slows down, looking at you and Crowley. You walk closer than you did earlier, and you don't even seem to notice how the back of your hands touch while you walk. He's seen Dean and Castiel subconsciously trying to get closer just like that. He might be young, but he's learnt quite a lot about love and longing, and he's quite sure that he has a fine example of both lying right in front of him. He also has an idea about how to make that happen, even if he will have to wait until you return to the bunker.

When the three of you make it back to the clearing where you parked the car, you start looking around for some logs and branches to set the fire. You have some water and a couple of old newspapers in the car, so safety and the ignition are accounted for. You're still scouring the clearing through the growing darkness when Crowley clears his throat. You turn to him, expecting him to mock you for not having figured it before.

“... what?”

“I assume you're looking for something to start the fire.”

“Well, duh.”

He scoffs, not taking seriously your remark, and raises his hand, “Perhaps I could be of assistance. You know... hellfire and all that.”

“Oh, I... I didn't think of it.”

“I figured that much”, he echoes the words you spat at him earlier in a much gentler tone. You almost feel bad for treating him harshly, but you just can't help it. There's something about him and the way he treats you that makes you feel... uneasy, for some reason.

Crowley knows you well, by now, but he still hasn't found a way to unravel you completely. He was content when you sought him out in your sleep. You slipped through the sheets and held him, just like you did a few years ago, and you seemed pretty happy about it. You wanted to be close to him... and yet you seem very bothered by his presence, at times. Of course, this only makes him all the more curious to find out the key to decipher your weirdness. He doesn't like pending business, and you certainly are acting like one.

With a snap of his fingers, a bright fire starts burning a few yards away from the car, complete with a few logs to sit around it, and you look at it, fascinated like a child. Juliet and Banquo immediately recognize the nature of the flames, and go to quietly lie down next to them.

You start laughing and walk to the car, taking the castiron skillet and a couple of knives.

“What, no knife for me?”

You jump, surprised. He's definitely closer than where you left him, and you didn't hear him approach.

“Stop moving so quietly! I'll tie a bell around your neck.”

“Oooh, my own collar? Kinky. I might like that.”

You thank the darkness and the dancing lights cast by the open flames for hiding the redness creeping up your cheeks. You grab a third knife, flip it and offer the handle to Crowley.

“You know how to do it, right?”

“Love, I am a demon, not a moron.”

“Eh. Sometimes you can be both.”

He rolls his eyes, only mildly annoyed. “Care to make an example or do I have to take your insults at face value?”

You would like to answer, but your throat closes. The thought of that day in the Apocalypse world is etched in your mind, and you don't like to think about it. Luckily, you catch Jack getting close to the hounds with the clear intention of petting them, so you're spared from answering. You dash to him, worried.

“Jack, don't!”

Jack immediately takes a step back and looks at you, confused. “But they look so cute!”

“Yeah, but those are not fluffy animals. Those are killing machines, and...”

“And they're trained to behave around people who mean no harm to me. Go ahead, boy. They like scratches on their heads.” Crowley encourages Jack.

You survey carefully the scene, ready to spring into action, but Crowley was telling the truth. A minute later, Jack is sitting on the ground, scratching Juliet's head with a hand, and patting Banquo with the other, looking happier than ever.

“You think Dean will let us keep on in the bunker?”

You think about it for a second. There's not a strong enough word in any human language to express the way Dean would refuse the idea of a hellhound loose in the bunker. Hearing Crowley chuckle next to you, you're sure that he's thinking the exact same thing.

“I... I don't think so, Jack.” Jack nods, trusting your judgement, and looks at you.

“Right. So... what do I do with the knife?”

You sit down on the log next to his one and teach him how to lightly carve the smooth shell of the fruit with a X, so that it doesn't swell and bash while it cooks. When you prepare enough for the three of you, you pour them in the pan and set it on the fire, shaking it from time to time to ensure an even cooking.

Jack notices that your movements are steady, and studies you for a moment. “So... is it a Christmas tradition?”

“It’s more of a winter thing, not just Christmas,” you answer, “I used to go picking chestnuts with my grandfather, from November through December. Then we would cook them on this big open fire in the backyard of his country house. Not a fancy one, though. He was a farmer, so it was one of those old houses full of tools and handmade stuff. I really liked that place.”

“I bet it was amazing.”

You think about it for a moment. “You know what? It really was. And they kept loads of animals, too. He and my grandma would do everything at home, from scratch.”

You start telling Jack things you've never told anyone since you moved and started your new life. Meanwhile, you keep your eyes on the chestnuts, taking them out of fire when they're done.

You pick some pages from the old newspapers and roll three cones, then pour the hot roasted fruit in them. You offer one to Jack, and one to Crowley, who looks surprised.

“... for me?”

“Yes. I know you don't eat, but...”

He takes the cone from your hands, smiling.

“I still like the taste. Thanks, love. Very thoughtful of you.”

“Shut up”, you mutter, but you're smiling.

Jack encourages you to tell more stories about your family, and you hear the crunching noises coming from him slowing down progressively. When you look at him again, on the other side of the flames, you see him dozing off, still nestled between Juliet and Banquo.

You smile and throw your paper cone filled with discarded skins in the fire, watching it crackle, then reach out, trying to warm your hands. The air is cold, and it's totally dark around you, despite being only four p.m. You think about what you just told Jack, and a sting of nostalgia catches you by surprise.

You quickly blink a couple of times, hoping to chase those unexpected tears away, but you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright, kitten?”

You almost forgot about Crowley. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything while you were telling your stories to Jack, but you don’t suspect he listened to every word you said. “I... yes. Just... I haven't thought about those things for a very long time. I... I'm just being stupid.”

“Oh, love. Don't. Actually, you made me remember a few things about my winters as a human.”

“... really?” You think you couldn't be more surprised, but you're wrong. Your amazement hits its peak when Crowley starts telling you about old Scottish traditions, and his experiences with them.

After a few minutes of chatting, you shiver, and inch closer to him. He doesn't move away, instead he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I suspect you like me just as a heather, love” he purrs right beside your ear.

“Who says I like you?”

You both laugh and stay quiet, enjoying the cold air, the warmth of the fire and the smell of smoke and roasted chestnuts filling the air for a while. You close your eyes for a moment, laying your head back on his shoulder. His cologne and the hint of sulphur hidden behind it always made you feel safe, and now that things are so different from what they were, you aren't even plagued by the question anymore. The ever-present question of what was going to come next, what was going to happen... how you’d lose him.

You sigh and open your eyes, looking at Jack, then move away from Crowley.

“You know... we should go back. It's dark, and I'm sure they're wondering where we are.”

“... I'll bring back the puppies and see you there, if it's fine with you.”

“It... it is. More than fine, actually.”

He brushes your hand, and you feel his warmth through your glove, then look at him while he speaks.

“Thanks for sharing those memories, love. I know they were for the kid, but... it was nice to hear them.”

“Actually… I'm glad you were here.”

For a moment, both of you stay still. You feel your heart beating faster when you look at him. The way the fire underlines his features, the sheer intensity of his gaze force you to shiver, despite being comfortable and warm. Crowley looks at you and can’t hold back a smile. It might be the moment he was waiting for.

Instead, suddenly panicking, you stand up quickly, feeling your usual shield going up again. You can't be too vulnerable around him, after all. And Jack… you must bring him back. You didn’t come all that way just to get all lovey-dovey with the former king of Hell. “Well, I'll see you back at the bunker.”

“Right. See you there.” Crowley mutters through his teeth and notices the sudden shift in your behaviour. He wonders if his efforts still make sense. Then, he watches you waking up Jack and talking softly to him, petting the hounds and making sure everything is fine, and he knows he just has to be a bit more patient.

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

Thank you for reading! 

I truly hope you enjoyed this little story. Every kind of feedback is very much appreciated, just as much as likes and reblogs!

Please, do not repost or copy my works or part/s of it, not even if you give credits.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

The Avengers held a debriefing meeting to go over Norman Osborn’s announcement about his own Avengers, X-Men and Cabal. Before they were able to find any answers, however, C.R.A.D.L.E. operatives arrived on the scene and demanded  that all underage heroes who were present be turned over.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL COMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

CAROL: America’s Avengers — that’s what Norman had called them. Ten costumed clad heroes with masked identities, hidden from public and hidden from them. The last decade had been an opportunity for heroes to gain public trust in a way they never had before. Offering themselves, unmasked, had created a line of trust from hero to layperson. Revealing your identity opened you up to untold threats, and that was before the people you cared about were involved. Carol had never hidden her identity, she hadn’t ever really needed to. Most of her time spent was on a different planet in a separate galaxy and she didn’t have much to protect on earth. People knowing who she was just allowed her to save them in broad daylight and she never really had to think much of it. But then Osborn had stepped into the limelight and floored everyone with his own set of heroes – and Carol was hesitant to call them that. Every bit of information had been pulled on this masked heroes and the database barely offered them crumbs. Super-people running around under Osborn’s authority felt like a power grab instead of a shield, and Carol still didn’t know how to respond to it. At the helm of the table, Carol didn’t say much as people filed, filling their respective seats. She tried not to pay attention to the idle murmuring as it buzzed around her, her thoughts too easily dismantled with her current stress level. This threat was so soon after the war with the mutants and she wasn’t eager to have to face another set of supers. “I would say thank you for coming, but I know most of us don’t want to be here given the recent events. As you all know, President Norman Osborn has revealed a very unorthodox plan to completely level everything we’ve known and built. He has his own set of Avengers, his own intelligence agency, and even his own X-men. He has done this with little regard to the Avengers and the X-men already established and standing, and his dissolution of SHIELD is alarming. Unfortunately, we can only surmise as to what it is he is doing and why — and how he plans on enacting whatever that is. We’re left with more questions than answers, so if anyone has anything to offer, please feel free to share.”

SAM: He didn’t do well in cages. Never had. Sure, there was ancestral trauma that he could talk to his shrink about but the truth of the matter was that Sam Wilson didn’t do well in cages and he didn’t like being locked in. With dislikes like those his career as a pararescuemen made sense, as did the huge emphasis on the freedom that being Cap came with. That being said, he had seen his fair share of bars. There had been the literal ones of the Raft, but Osborn’s new world felt even more constricting. It was terrifying because they were supposed to believe they were free when they were anything but. Sam let Carol talk. He gave her some space while he paced in the back of the room before his arms found a home crossed over his chest. These debriefings never went well. It was like the Sokovian Accords all over again, but this time the ghosts of Tony, Nat and Steve were all too present. He kept scanning the peripheral for a glimpse of red or straining his ears for a sarcastic retort, but they were gone. Whatever was happening they’d go alone. “I think it goes without saying I may not be Norman’s biggest fan,”  Sam piped up from the back wall. “But let’s try not to look at it personally. We’ve done this song and dance before. They may have a harder time touchin’ us, but you guys?” He jutted his head at the minors. “We need to get smart and fast.”

PETER: If there was one thing that Peter valued, it was his privacy– and that was being threatened, big time. Peter glanced over to Sam’s finger as it jutted over in his general direction, the eyes of his suit widening just slightly like he had been accused of something. “I don’t have any ideas.” Yeah, that was definitely worth saying Peter. “Anyone else? Because this really sucks.”

NADIA: Ever since the Coles Incident - which is what they were calling the event where Nadia had potentially lost two of her best friends - she had been doing her best to brainstorm in moderation without  driving herself crazy. “I would say that we try to talk to them, but we did.” That whole hearing had been awful. They had asked questions that weren’t even about what happened, like they could create problems out of nowhere. “I agree with Peter. It sucks.” 10 points for the children being helpful.

IDIE: Idie sat with the other representatives of Krakoa, listening carefully to what Carol was saying. The last few weeks had all felt like a whirlwind – so much was happening so fast. Her eyes wandered round the room as Carol spoke, looking over the familiar faces and the new ones, making a note in her head that these were people she could somewhat trust in these troubled times. She didn’t trust this new world she was living in – even though the people in this room were united against one cause, it was the Krakoa mutants Idie trusted most with her life, and she hoped they trusted her. Her eyes flickered to the new Captain America – who piped up after Carol had finished speaking, and his words resonated with her. He was right. They needed to work harder and smarter than they had before. President Osborn’s new Avenger’s felt like his own personal paramilitary, and she worried how he would use his new X-Men team. “I was a child when I came to the X-Men,” Idie stood up as she spoke, taking a breath as she gathered her thoughts. “I see myself in these young heroes. While they are young, they’re also smart. They are aware of the world around them and its dangers. No one cared that I was a child when my powers mutated, all they saw was a witch who deserved to die.” There was a bitterness in Idie’s tone as she spoke. “What I’m trying to say is, these young heroes are assets, not dangers. With the right training, they can be stronger and smarter heroes. We should be giving them a chance, not turning them away.”

SUSAN: This was, unfortunately, not a new rodeo. The Fantastic Four had always been hyper visible as a group and that had bled into their private life. People who didn’t understand how they operated had tried to have say in their parenting and fighting off CPS while also trying to save the multiverse was exhausting. “Every hero needs responsibility, but I know most of you didn’t choose this. Even if you did, you’re all doing a good thing.  I know C.R.A.D.L.E.  started raids. Is there any kind of sanctuary we can make in the short term?” Susan glanced to her husband and children. “I think we need to be prepared to fight them.”

ERIK: “While I will not argue that the future of our young heroes here is important, there is more to focus on than them. They are more than used to standing up for themselves, no matter their age.” Erik figured that it was his turn to speak now, since there was much to discuss. “The group of mutants parading around under the direction of the President have broken away from the ideas we on Krakoa hold sacred. They threaten the incredible amount of work, blood, tears, and pain we have suffered through to get to where we are now.”

VALERIA: Valeria sat quietly, listening to the other heroes speak. A lot was going on in the room, and a lot of different opinions were being said – it was going to be a difficult night ahead. “My mom is right,” Valeria spoke. “We can fight as well as any of you in this room, but C.R.A.D.L.E. poses a risk to our lives. To our futures. If we are to be put in a sanctuary, we should be prepared to fight. Give us training, don’t put us in a corner and leave us be. That will only end badly.”

JEAN: The announcement of ‘America’s X-Men’ had sounded wrong from the moment she had heard it. Sitting with her son swaddled against her, Jean nodded along lightly as Erik spoke. It was strange. Her own younger self technically fell outside of the law now. “As does his Cabal. Whatever deal he and Emma made is not reflective of the Quiet Council or Krakoa. Kate,” the redhead glanced towards Pryde. “You’re Hellfire. Was that planned?” It stung, a bit. Jean and Emma had grown closer and her decision to drag Krakoa into Osborn’s circle was made without warning. Out of respect the telepath had stayed out of her mind, but the situation had become icy.

IDIE:  Idie nodded as Erik spoke. She could have laughed at the fact she found herself agreeing with Magneto of all people (perhaps Quentin had been right all these years, although she would not be admitting that to him. “For some of us, Krakoa is the only home we’ve ever known. This X-Men group threatens to take it away from us.” She glanced at Jean, an eyebrow raised at her comment. “Ms. Grey, I don’t think now is the time for fighting between us. We need to be united.”

GWEN: “I don’t even live here,” Gwen was slouched over with her head in her hands, “but they’ve made it pretty clear I’m at risk as well when I’m here.” Her identity in Earth-13130 remained a secret to the general public even though at the meeting her hood had been pulled back to rest against her neck. She didn’t just want to ignore people in trouble though if she saw them. “Val’s right. Fighting is our best option. They can’t push us around just because we’re younger.”

VALERIA: A smirk crept across Val’s face as Gwen said she was right. “We may be young but we made a commitment to be who we are, if we didn’t we wouldn’t be sitting in this room discussing it.” She rested a comforting hand on Gwen’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “It’s our choice, isn’t it? We chose this life. We want to fight this, and if you put us somewhere for our own protection without giving us the tools to fight and protect ourselves, you might as well let C.R.A.D.L.E. find us, capture us, and do God only knows what to us.”

PETER: “We can fight, but what’s that really gonna do?” Peter spoke up again. “If we fight them.. isn’t that just going to make them want all of these rules even more? It’s true that we can stand up for ourselves, but I don’t know if there’s a way to actually get them to stop.”

ILLYANA: “Who said anything about fighting?” Blue eyes were trained on black painted nails. It was ridiculous that she fell under the rule considering her history. Illyana’s words were directed at Idie though, not any of the other people who had actually discussed fighting. “I don’t think Jean did, but the blonde with the big brain - that was Val - seems interested.” Illyana was too.

KATE: Reclining back as far as her chair would reach, Kate had been fiddling with the edge of her coat as people spoke around her. Osborn’s sudden resurgence into society along with his reveal of his shiny new squad didn’t sit well with her. And as Kate understood, it didn’t sit well with anyone. It took a moment for her to register that Jean had addressed her and she automatically wanted to respond with a ‘what’, but Jean’s words managed to sink in before she did. Dark eyes shifted around the room, not really focusing on anyone, before coming to land back on Jean. “You’re asking the wrong person. I wouldn’t work with Norman if you paid me, but considering the affairs of the Hellfire Club, I can only assume there is something to gain. Emma wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

REED: “I see where everyone is coming from, but it’s never as simple as we want it to be.” Reed replied to both his daughter and the rest of the group. “Putting the kids together and making sure they’re safe sounds logical at first, but is it really smart to put all of them together? If something were to happen, they make an easy target that way.”

JESSICA: “Mutants, underaged heroes,” Jessica ticked off the issues on one hand. “the fact that we don’t know who these heroes are. Should we try and pick a topic or do we like bouncing around?” She opposed everything on the grounds that it felt wrong and S.H.I.E.L.D.,  while imperfect, was often more good than bad. Now a mother herself of a kid with super powers, Jessica hated the unease that came with considering this version of the future. “Did literally anyone see this coming?”

IDIE: “All I meant was that we can’t be seen at each other’s throats.” Idie turned to Illyana. “It would only give people reason to support Osborn’s X-Men, and I think we can agree that is the last thing we want.” Her eye glanced over at the underaged heroes for a moment, spotting the blonde Illyana had spoken about, then turned back to the other mutant. “Fighting whatever Osborn is up to. If we want to stand against it, we need to stand together.”

VALERIA: “We’re stronger together than we are apart, Dad.” Valeria stared at her dad, her eyes wide. “We need each other right now. We can protect each other. We aren’t just a group of dumb kids, Dad. We have powers, just like the rest of you.”

JEAN: Deciding to ignore both Illyana and Idie, Jean kept her gaze on Kate. She’d always have a soft spot for her and her inability to get on Krakoa meant that the two didn’t see each other near enough. Part of that was on her, of course, but with the baby and the Council one thing often turned into the next and suddenly a week had gone by. “If Emma had talked to anyone it would have been you, Kate, or Scott.” Her glance didn’t flicker over to the husband who sat beside her. “This Cabal is international. Do we know anything else about it?”

SUSAN: “Of course you aren’t, dear.” Susan’s tone was more patient than patronizing. Valeria was one of the smartest there was. “We just need to be strategic and delicate here. They’re looking for another incident like what happened with Ms. Marvel. You’re all out of grace and chances.”

PETER: “My paranoia saw this coming.” Peter’s reply to Jess was meant to be quieter than it ended up being. “And still, I have no idea what to do other than just.. not register. But I’m not ready for the whole city or-or the whole world to hate me or think I’m the bad guy.”

XANDRA: Her goal had been to remain as innocuous as possible. Although she preferred not to, Xandra had slipped from her chamber and left an illusion in her place. It had taken a great deal of concentration to maintain her own physical camouflage but as soon as she arrived on the premise she allowed that to fall. “My aunt betrayed me.” Feathers ruffled around her face as she spoke. “Which knowing Deathbird should not be a surprise.” And yet, it was. Xandra had truly hoped for the best. “She joined your President’s Cabal without my approval. Her vote does not represent the Shi’ar people.”

SAM: “Sometimes they’re gonna think you’re the bad guy. It’s inevitable when we’re the ones doing the hard stuff people don’t want to deal with.” Sam knew that unfortunately too well. “We fight, we look bad. We don’t and we end up screwed. We’re just all in agreeance that we don’t know enough yet about what’s going on.”  

VALERIA: Val slouched back in her seat, running a hand through her hair as she thought. She was a child to most of these people, it didn’t matter how smart she was, or what she thought. Peter’s remark made her scoff as she held back a laugh. “Separating us and putting us in safe houses where we will feel useless will give them another Ms. Marvel incident,” Valeria tried to be patient, but it felt like her words were falling on deaf ears.

NADIA: “Can we please stop calling it that?”  Nadia’s voice was quiet. She loved Kamala. The two had been close ever since Kamala had tried to help Nadia get her citizenship set up. Hearing all the terrible things the world was saying about Ms. Marvel in Kamala’s name made her sick. There was no way she’d stand behind any of it. “She’s my friend.”

KATE: "I didn’t say we hadn’t talked.“ Kate responded cooly. They had talked. Kate had outright confronted her, but Emma had brushed it off. No big deal. The excuses given to her were easy enough to accept if you wanted to, but Kate didn’t trust Norman, so she didn’t trust that Emma was telling her the whole story. "I just assume Emma has her reasons and I don’t demand people to give me information. I trust her.” Half of that was true. Kate did trust Emma, but she didn’t know how much of a hand Norman had in this.

PETER: Underneath the mask, Peter’s face burned a light red. Sam was right, but that didn’t mean he was going to admit it. He could stay stubborn, clinging to his idealism for as long as he could. “We keep talking about another incident, but that’s the worst case scenario right? It’s not Kamala’s fault.” He glanced to Nadia, expression soft even if it wasn’t easy to read under his mask. “It’s not our fault at all. It’s Norman’s. There’s gotta be something we can do before it’s too late.”

SCOTT:  He’d chosen to remain quiet on the issue thus far. A team of mutants with Madelyne on it already gave him everything he needed to know about Osborn’s intentions, and he didn’t need to chew on it to get the point across. This had threat written all over it — he just couldn’t figure out why Emma would work with him. He almost considered that she was defaulting to who they had used to be, but Scott knew that even if she was, this was not the route to take. “She hasn’t talked to me.” He responded to Jean before Kate had the chance, his tone level. “This is all still fairly new.”

JEAN: It hadn’t really been accusatory, but Jean still needed to make sure everyone knew that Scott wasn’t involved with what Emma was doing. Jean didn’t want to turn people against  Frost but they needed to be clear on where everyone stood. “Emma joined the Cabal and we had no idea. Your aunt,” she turned to Xandra. “Did so without your permission. And then there’s Loki and Maximus. Did the Asgardians and Inhumans know?”

ODINSON: “Loki’s schemes are never ending.” Odinson replied with an eyeroll. “It’s difficult to guess their intentions, but I am not surprised by where they ended up. If teams like this were to be formed, Loki would be drawn to it all like an insect to a flame.”

CRYSTALIA: Even though it may have surprised most, Crystalia had stayed mostly quiet throughout this. New Attilan was almost exempt from the problem but her connection to the Nuhumans and Kamala Khan made it her problem. “My cousin is a snake in the grass.” Prior fondness was dulled by years of backstabbing. Lockjaw was panting in the corner, his massive head nearly in the doorway. “The Inhumans have struggled enough without him causing trouble.”

SAM: “We’re going to figure it out, kid. I promise. There’s no way in hell we’re going to let you guys go down here. But we gotta ask ourselves: who are these people and how did Norman recruit them without us knowing?”

CAROL: "Are we really surprised he did?“ Her question was directed at Sam’s. "He doesn’t exactly strike me as all that forthright. If anything, this is expected. You gather a set of heroes who will follow you and you have a perfect war machine.”

VALKYRIE: “Well, one of them is a two faced wench with a preference for green.” Val was leaned forward in her chair, one tattooed forearm braced against the table. “The Enchantress. Amora has never spelled anything but trouble.”

THOR: “And the Minotaur.” Thor piggybacked off of Val. “I knoweth him, unfortunately. His name is Dario Agger. He runs Roxxon and his bloodlust is… unfortunate, to say the least.”

SAM: “Surprised? No. Disappointed? Yes. There should only be one War Machine, and that’s Rhodes. Taking up the Iron Patriot without saying anything was meant to be disrespectful. What about Star? Wanda, you said you got a reality stone reading off of her. You, Vis and Carol know the Stones pretty well. Do we know her deal?”

KATE: “Look I could be wrong,” Kate had leaned forward at this point, interjecting between Sam’s and Carol’s conversation. “But I think I talked to her. Star, I mean.”

WANDA: “You did?” Wanda turned her attention to Kate, speaking for the first time. She had spent the night picking up on different energies but had turned a blind eye due to how caught up in the Vision she had been. Now, she was regretting her decision. “I admit that I didn’t look close enough. Who was she?”

KATE: “She actually came with you, I think.” Kate said, subtly pointing towards Carol. “God, all I can picture is the atrocious pink dress. In a gala like that, you’d expect opulence or at least something formal. Not mid 2000’s Barbie dreamhouse. I didn’t catch her name, but something about her was off. Like Norman Osborn off.”

JEAN: “Kate,” Jean shifted so she could pass (baby) Charles to Scott. “Would you mind if I entered your mind for a moment to pull the name and face out?”

SAM: “You brought an American Avenger as your date, Danvers?” Sam’s brow rose. He couldn’t place her face. It was a bland blonde mix. He hadn’t been there long at all. Mostly a quick stop in and then bail to try and get home to rest.

KATE: For a long moment, Kate just stared at Jean, her features blank. She didn’t want to give anything away in the moment, but she wasn’t comfortable being in her own head, let alone letting someone else navigate around there. But she’d offered this tidbit of information, so maybe she should see this the whole way through. “If you think it’s necessary.”

JEAN: Thank you for trusting me. Jean’s words were spoken so only Kate could hear. Her eyes turned pink as she carefully dived into Kitty’s mind, dancing around anything intimate to find her way to the night in question. It took a moment to bring a blurry memory to focus, but then “—I thought I said I didn’t want to know your name.” Jean spoke along with the memory as the blonde rose from her barstool and began to back away. “Ripley.” The light died down then and Jean let the image of ‘Ripley’ be projected towards the others. “Do we know who she is or why she has a reality stone?”

CAROL:  She had suspected that Ripley was who Kate was referring to, but Carol hadn’t been struck with the same vibe. “She’s just a reporter.” She said in slight defense. “Are you sure you think it’s her?”

JESSICA: “Jesus Christ.” Jess shook her head, looking to Carol in disbelief. She should have put it together and felt stupid for not doing so, but Jess hadn’t even attended the Gala or seen who Carol had brought with her. “That ‘reporter’ is a psycho bitch. Ripley Ryan. Star. She’s from my reality.” As in, Earth-616. “She had a major bone to pick with you, Carol. Went as far as being experimented on to get back at you. You both almost died, but she was carted off to the Raft. I haven’t been home since then. I had no idea she’d gotten a Stone or came here.”

CAROL: Carol’s eyes shifted quickly, meeting Jess’s. Behind her gaze, there was a twinge of surprise but she did her best to keep her reaction neutral. “And you’re sure.” She didn’t doubt Jess, she hadn’t even known why she bothered asking, but a part of her wanted to believe in the girl. Carol always felt she had great instincts, and to have something be so carefully hidden right before her eyes was a hard pill to swallow. “She does realize that I’m not from her reality.”

GWEN: She had forgot to turn it off. Flipping your phone to mute seemed like a pretty simple thing to remember if you were going to very respectable Avengers meetings, especially when you lived in another reality and your dad couldn’t even contact you on this emergency line. Her phone was so often ignored that she was surprised when it began to trill that awful sound usually reserved only for Amber Alerts. She quickly fumbled with the device, about to turn it off until she caught sight of the picture that had come with the headline. Suddenly, Carol’s murderous girlfriend or whatever was way less important. Nadia and Lana’s phones  went off as well, and Gwen quickly tried to read and reread what had been sent out. “–uh, guys??”

PETER: Peter knew something was off even before Gwen reacted. He watched her reach for her phone but ignored his own that vibrated on the surface in front of him. The anxiety made him freeze, but as Gwen’s eyes stayed glued to her phone he knew he had to see for himself. He reached for his own, clicked it on, and there it was. It took longer than it should have for it to all sink in. What was in reality only a few seconds felt like minutes to him, and suddenly he became hyper aware of everyone focusing in on him. “What?” Maybe his eyes were tricking him? He felt his heart begin to race and heard it echo in his ears. This wasn’t really happening, was it? That was.. him. Right smack in the middle of his screen– and everyone else’s for that matter. It was out. Someone must have been following him, or someone here maybe sold him out.. or– “No, no no no no–!” Everything went cold, and his hands began to shake. His phone would have dropped out of his grasp if he hadn’t held on to it just a bit too tight, causing the screen to splinter at the edges. Right now he was surrounded and it felt like he was in a cage. Vulnerable. Exposed. Terrified. Betrayed. Peter Parker is Spider-Man. And there was no taking it back. Even though they had all just been discussing the future of people like him, suddenly Peter didn’t trust a single one of them. But his brain was in a fog– rage, confusion, terror. He couldn’t get himself to move, but he was at least thankful he had his mask on so no one could see the few tears trailing down his cheeks. “–what am I supposed to do now?” His voice was barely at a whisper.

JESSICA: Well, shit. That had taken the meeting in a way no one had expected. Jessica had to fish her phone out of her bag to see what everyone was staring at. Once she did she almost wished that she hadn’t. Maybe it was her unearthed motherly instinct, but she was quickly on her feet and moving around the table to crouch beside Parker. “Hey, kid,” her voice was low, dark head bent towards him. “Right now? Take deep breaths.”

LANA: “What the actual @#$@#. So they’re just going to out people and endanger them now?” Lana’s hands were curled into fists. She had never had a secret identity in the traditional sense. If the government wanted her they’d likely be able to find her unless she was on Krakoa. “We have to @#$@# do something.”

CAROL: Interesting how the world had just been introduced to a series of masked crusaders and one of their very own had just been forced to reveal who he was. Choosing to stay back, Carol observed the panic and frustration, understanding both but reacting to neither. Turning to Sam, she tried to catch his attention with a soft tone. “Convenient timing, wouldn’t you say?”

SAM: “It’s bullshit, that’s what it is.” Sam couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. Peter was a good kid. If someone wanted to out themselves it was fine, but a public callout wasn’t. “This is the kind of game we’re going to be playing. I hate to say it, but we won’t have time to sit back. They’re going to come straight at us.”

PETER: The grip he had around his phone tightened more and he could hear the quiet cascade of cracking glass from underneath his fingers. Peter was breathing. But it was definitely not deep breaths. The skin-tight red fabric around his chest rose and fell heavily as he sat there fuming, and he eventually got to his feet. ”I’m breathing just fine!” His voice wasn’t at a whisper anymore, and as he turned away from Jess he slammed a fist against the table. For a split second his mind wandered to Aunt May. How long would it take for her to hear the news and call him? What was he going to say to her? Was it even safe for him to go home? The equal levels of fear and anger had shifted as the seconds ticked by, and Peter found himself seeing red. His empty hand rose up and ripped off his mask, and he closed his eyes as the cool air hit his skin. “What’s the point of this anymore?” The fistful of red he had just pulled off was promptly thrown harshly to his feet, where it stayed and he stared at it. “Who did this to me? Why me? Why now?”

CAROL: She hated how right he was. A tic in the back of her jaw worked as she watched Peter, choosing to keep her personal emotions to herself. There was no reason to amplify the stress in the room. “Then we take the fight to them. Look, I don’t know how the Avengers were run before, but we’re not going to wait until they drop a bomb on New York to react. If Norman wants a war, I say we give him one.”

SAM: “We miscalculate this and we could be over. Osborn doesn’t need much to spin things against us. Whatever we do, we do it right.” If Steve were here he would have told him whatever it takes. But once again, he wasn’t. “If you have a secret identity, you may want to consider telling your loved ones.” Sam addressed the group. “Or if you can’t, let us know and we’ll find away to keep them safe. I’m sorry, Peter, really, but this isn’t about you. Osborn’s making an example out of you and it’s a real piece of shit thing to do. This has got to be our wake up call, guys. Things can turn and fast.”

JESSICA: Jess didn’t flinch as Peter lashed out. Had it been her she would have done worse, green energy tearing holes in everything around her. For a long time she had wrestled with the  fact that she had almost never had a secret identity. She longed for anonymity but was also grateful to avoid things like this. “Norman Osborn is not a good guy where I come from. We can talk about it later, if you want.” As much as Jess tried to keep reality separate it couldn’t be avoided tonight. She and Peter B. had decided long ago that some things should be kept secret. Not lied about, per se, but what happened to Peter B.’s Gwen had never been something this Peter needed to bear. With everything happening now some truths may have been inevitable.  Catching Gwen’s eye over his shoulder, Jess gave her a look before rising and facing Carol and Steve to listen in on their conversation.

GWEN: Gwen wasn’t really sure why she was being passed the baton, but she did know being a teenaged spider person sucked.  She had seen frustration and fear in her Peter and it scared her to see it again, but she did the best to shake the feeling off. Webbing quickly shot the mask into her hands, and Gwen placed it in front of him once more. “The point of this is that you get out there and help people. Your mask is your badge, even if you don’t need to wear it. I think you need some air, Peter.”

PETER: “Well it definitely feels like it’s about me! That’s my face on your phone! Who knows how many people have seen this.” Finally Peter loosened the grip on his phone and let it drop back to the table with a thud. He didn’t want to believe that Norman would do something like this, not something so personal. The harder he tried to ignore that horrible feeling deep in his gut, the worse it got. He took a long glance at Jess as she moved away, not offering her up either a yes or no– but filing away the invitation for later. As Gwen moved closer he fought hard against his urge to move away before she reached him. It would have been so easy to tell her to leave him alone. But he stayed. He let her grab hold of his mask and through the mess of brown curls covering his eyes, he found himself unable to look away as she held it out to him. His lungs were still taking in harsh shallow breaths. He was still angry. But she was right– he needed some air. ”–fine. Peter picked up his phone and turned to head out of the room without grabbing his mask, and without bothering to see if Gwen would follow him. It was hard to tell if he wanted to be alone right now or not. The feelings of loneliness and being completely stifled were too hard to separate. Every feeling was, truthfully.

H.A.M.M.E.R: It started with the peeling of an alarm. Some kind of sirens were blaring and then there was the pounding of boots that never heralded anything good. We’re here under the authorization of C.R.A.D.L.E. in regards to S.315,  the Underage Superhuman Welfare Act, an amplified voice accompanied the sound of the door being ripped open before H.A.M.M.E.R. agents inundated the room. “This is Carolina Washington, C.R.A.D.L.E. officer.” A woman shouldered her way to the front with her weapon raised. “We were made aware that underaged heroes who have not yet complied with the law were converging here. We need to bring them in to register. Please, let’s do this the easy way.”

CAROL: Carol jumped to her feet so quickly that her chair kicked out from under her and landed cockeyed on the floor. The alarm blared in her ears, a torrent of sound that was as startling as it was telling. She didn’t bother paying mind to the introduction; when a gun was raised at her, she didn’t quite care for formalities. “I think the time for doing things the right way has passed, Sam.” Carol tossed over her shoulder.

PETER: Peter made it about two steps before he sensed it. Eyes that were once glued to the floor shot up and landed on the doors just before they were slashed open. He glanced back to the rest of the group, to his friends and the people his age that they were here for. It only took a moment for Peter’s face to harder with resolve, and now he was going to the right (or maybe very stupid) thing. Once he turned back around he shot out webbing and swung himself to the center of the room to place himself in front of the CRADLE officers. “Yeah? Well I’m Peter Parker– but I guess you already knew that didn’t you?” He held out his arms wide out at his sides, almost inviting them to come at him. “I would say that it’s nice to meet you Carolina, but it’s really not. So why don’t you just get outta here, and leave my friends alone. I’m in a really crappy mood.”

H.A.M.M.E.R.: “It’s nice to meet you, Peter Parker.” Carolina replied coolly, one hand signaling her men. “I thought your face looked familiar.” They had brought collars, already prepped and warned by the telepath they were working with on what to expect. It had been a precaution to bring back-up with them, Star of the American Avengers and the Goblin Queen of the American X-Men as back-up. “You and your friends are going to follow the law now and come with us.”

RIPLEY: Carol was here, but Ripley didn’t really feel like saying hi. The hot brunette from the bar was as well but this was business and needed to be treated as such. “Collar.” The word left bored lips as the newly minted Avenger pointed towards a female mutant in a ridiculous coat, a collar solidifying around her throat a second later. “Next?”

PETER: “Yeah, that’s me. Don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you didn’t set that picture of me as your lockscreen.” He took one more determined step closer and then criss-crossed his arms, each hand aiming at the guns closest to him to send webbing flying towards them. It sealed the ends of the barrels. He didn’t dare look behind him, but he hoped this was giving them all enough time to find another way out. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

ILLYANA: Oh, she was so not into this. “C’mon, you. Time to go.” Illyana took a step closer to Scott and Jean, her overall purpose there to make sure they could get the baby back unharmed. There was a flash of light before she dipped and took the Grey-Summers family with her.

LANA: “@#$@#.” Gloved hands clawed at Lana’s throat. “Seriously? Me first?” She looked to Nate as if he had some way to remove a collar.

KATE: No, they weren’t. Phasing through the floor, Kate maneuvered until she was just beneath one of the agents, reemerging with enough force that she knocked his weapon from his hand and took it into her own. Aiming it at Carolina, she tightened her finger on the trigger. “You brought a gun to a mutant fight; I’m not really sure how you planned on winning this one.”

RIPLEY: “With a little extra firepower.” Ripley moved fast enough to materialize behind Kate, crimson eyes trained on the gun.  “That gun doesn’t work.” The red in her chest flared up in a  moment of red intensity before a smile settled over her lips.

GWEN: Her body rippled as the black of her suit overtook the white, pink threading down the material. “Love the energy Pete, really, but maybe less angst and more focus?” Her symbiote always whispered louder in her ear when she let it manifest like that but they weren’t going to rip anyone in half tonight. “Maybe we need to go somewhere as in away from here and their guns.”

CABLE: Nate’s first instinct was to grab his gun and aim it right at the person who put the color on Lana. His second instinct was to try and get the collar off of her. And his second instinct won. He quickly grabbed her and teleported the two of them into the farthest corner of the room, then immediately dove into trying to find a way to help her– even though he already knew that there wasn’t. “I can’t–” Nate didn’t finish his sentence, both hands on the device at her throat as he looked back towards the rest of the action. “I’m sorry.” He was scared– for both her and himself. Getting collared meant that he would be helpless to save himself against the metal clawing his way through his body.

KATE: With an annoyed cock to her brow, Kate pulled the trigger just for good measure and lo and behold, a string of bubbles came out of the chamber. Not exactly the kickback she was looking for. With a frustrated grunt, Kate shifted her grip on the gun and spun, aiming to knock Ripley right in the mouth with it.

LANA: “Oh, @#$@# this. You have to go.” Lana forced herself to say words she really didn’t want to. She knew about his stupid sickness and what it did. “I’ve done this bullshit before. I’m going to be fine.” Because she was an incurable dumbass she fired off one test shot but the hot flash of pain nearly made her vision go black. There was no way she’d be able to get it off of herself. “Please don’t apologize. We’ve already died together once and I’m really @#$@# over this whole thing. So, go.”

CABLE: “I–” Nate cringed when she tried to get the collar off. He shouldn’t have to leave her like this. Frustration took over and his metal hand clenched into a fist before he punched the wall closest to him, leaving a noticeable dent. “Shit. Don’t do anything too stupid, alright?” He forced himself to take in a deep breath and then planted a kiss on her lips before backing away. “I’ll see you soon.” Nate took one last look at her and then activated the device on his wrist, disappearing in a flash of blue light.

RIPLEY: As the gun connected with her face Ripley frowned slightly, grateful she had already protected herself earlier. “Okay, first off, no thank you.” She grabbed Kate’s wrist, twisting it so she could throw the woman backwards towards the wall. Was she powerful? Sure. New to all of  this? To an extent. Her only main fight had been Carol  and everyone knew how that had ended. “I liked you better when you weren’t trying to be a hero.” She hissed, stepping back to survey the room. There was a flash of blue as someone teleported away. Gaze settling on the person left behind, Ripley shook her head. “Time to go to sleep.” The body hitting the ground meant she could move onto the next fighting hero.

PETER: “You go then!” Peter shouted back to Gwen as he webbed two more guns and yanked them out of the officers’ grip. “They already know who I am. This way everyone else has a chance to get out.”

CAROL: The hole the wall made when Kate collided with it suggested that Ripley was more overpowered than Carol originally thought. Honestly, she was surprised Kate didn’t go right through it, either phasing or not. Redirecting her focus, Carol allowed her powers to ignite, illuminating her palms as she aimed the energy blasts straight for Ripley, not bothered by the guards she’d have to go through to get to her. There was a bit of a personal vendetta there, her anger at a lower simmer. “Now’s probably a great time to get out of here.” She tossed at Sam. If it ended up just being the two of them, then so be it.

GWEN: “Oh shut up. I’m not going to leave you.” Not again, her mind filled in. She couldn’t let down yet another Peter Parker. Her dad was completely and totally going to murder her when he found out what was going on. Her suit was moving alongside her webbing but the emission of a high pitched buzz drove her to her knees as the symbiote squirmed and tried to separate from her.

SAM: Shields didn’t work very well in confirmed spaces and Sam couldn’t use it without potentially taking out an ally as well. “I always say no man left behind and these are kids.” That being said, they weren’t looking good. One was already being dragged out collared and unconscious  and the last thing they needed was for anyone else to get hurt. “Any last ditch plans, Cap?”

RIPLEY: Now that one hurt. Ripley’s mouth was tugged into frown as she glared at Carol, pulling herself to her feet. The C.R.A.DL.E. agents were already removing some of the minors but this pointless violence was tiring. “The best thing you can do is let them come with us. They’re safer in a holding cell registering than here where an accident can happen.” To emphasize her point an agent cranked up the volume on the buzz device. “Can we end this now?”

CAROL: Lowering her first, Carol let the charge in her arm die down a bit as Ripley stood back up. She all but shook it off and as Carol’s eyes scanned the room, she almost felt like her desire to push Ripley back was only going to compromise the people around her. And not to mention the building itself. They weren’t outside, they weren’t even in a very large room. As much as she wanted to unload on her, Carol damped the power and shot at Ripley again. Nothing debilitating, but until she focused on her, Carol was going to keep shooting at her. “Leave us and take as many kids as you can. If I can keep her occupied, she can’t control the kids. I don’t know if there’s another option here.”

PETER: Dammit, Gwen. Peter kept his jaw clenched painfully shut to make sure he didn’t snap at her. This was his fight. He was hit hard and he wanted to hit back– and it was better to do that alone. But his anger-fueled adrenaline was beginning to die down, and as it did the rest of the room came into focus. Carol’s blast caught his attention and suddenly, he realized just how stupid this idea of his had been. He wasn’t going to win this one, not without causing more harm than good. He opened his mouth to reply to Gwen when the same high-pitched sound hit him, and he instinctively slammed both hands over his ears to try and block it out. ”No!” She fell to her knees and all Peter could do was watch her and her symbiote struggle. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. “Alright, stop! Stop it! I won’t fight you, just– turn it off!”

RIPLEY: “Would you - knock - it- off??” Ripley raised her voice more than she had before. “Your shots are bouncing back.” Exasperation lined her tone. One day she’d need to learn to rewrite reality without literally having to telegraph what she was planning on doing verbally. “There! That’s the spirit. Let’s all be more like Peter.”

H.A.M.M.E.R: “I’m sorry, Captain, but he won’t be leaving with any of the children. We’re here under direct orders from the United States government.” Carolina said. A gloved agent knelt down to put a collar on the symbiote clothed teenager before another roughly grabbed another underaged hero. “Believe it or not, this is the best course of action for everyone. As an official Commander under C.R.A.D.L.E. I, Carolina Washington, hereby issue the arrests of Peter Parker, Gwendolyne Stacy, Gwendolyn Poole, Nadia Van Dyne, Laura Kinney, Lana Baumgartner and Jean Grey for failure to comply with S.315,  the Underage Superhuman Welfare Act. You will not be read your rights but will be given a full list of legal requirements upon arrival at our facilities. Any further attempts of violence will result in extended consequences. Do we have any other questions?”

GWEN: The sound was gone but they had put a collar on her. Gwen had no powers of her own anymore. Whatever they clamped around her neck was emitting some kind of frequency that stopped the symbiote from being able to compose itself. A few spiders wandered off of her, creeping down across the floor. “Do not be like Peter.” She moaned despite her cotton mouth. As in, Peter go.

SAM: This was a fresh layer of bullshit if they thought that they could waltz in, bang up some kids and then just cart them off to god knows where to do things on their terms. “Some of  these heroes aren’t American, they’re Krakoan. And Empress Neramani isn’t from Earth at all. You better watch what you guys are walking into.”

H.A.M.M.E.R.: “We know exactly what we’re walking into. The law states that any underaged hero operating on American soil is liable and able to be tried. These mutants were born American citizens. They’re under our jurisdiction. But thank you for reminding me of Empress Neramani.” Her gaze drifted over to the feathered Shi’ar. “We have received express permission from Cal’syee Neramani to take Xandra into custody as she is both half mutant and also far underage.” Family politics were messy, but Carolina just followed orders. She was a clean-up specialist, after all. “Your resistance will be noted and recorded.”

CAROL: The glow she was emitting didn’t die down this time as Carol approached Carolina, getting right up in her face. In the corner of her eye, she kept Ridley in sight, ready to send her supercharged ass flying if she had to. “You can take your Act and shove it up your ass for all I care. If you’re going to take these kids, you’re going to have to arrest me too, because I’m not letting you leave with them.”

RIPLEY: Theatrics. That’s all superheroes were. Theatrical little bitches who thought the Earth  orbited around them. Ripley could get into her hatred of Carol Danvers and all she stood for, but at that moment there was more to focus on. The Stone was twitching in her chest and her head snapped to the side to see the Scarlet Witch with magic glowing around her fingers. Could Wanda kick Ripley’s ass? Definitely. Did Ripley get the element of surprise? Definitely. One  word and the brunette went down and the blonde prayed they’d leave before she got back up. With her attention returned to Carol, two words were spoken under her breath before lasers erupted from her eyes and clipped Carol in the temple.

CAROL: If Carolina even made a move, Carol was going to put her fist through her chest. It was impossible not to be seething, to watch the kids, who were barely old enough to even have mastered their abilities, be taken into custody for them. She didn’t battle Thanos or the X-men just for people to be robbed of their freedom, especially not by those who Carol knew were more than eager to weaponize them. Or something worse. In a split moment of distraction, Carol took her focus off of Ripley just in time for her to knock her with a laser blast, forcing her off her planted stance. As she fought to regain her footing, all the energy Carol had been carefully suppressing erupted, engulfing her in one fell swoop. Without thinking, without taking it into care, Carol just shot a mega beam right back at her, her emotions getting the better of her.

PETER: This.. definitely didn’t go as he had wanted it to. Even though the sound wasn’t nearly as devastating to him as it was to Gwen and her suit, it had slowed him down enough that they slipped the collar on her without him being able to stop them. It shifted to a low hum that he was sure was still loud to her, and once he refocused he felt his stomach twist into knots. He looked to her with disbelief and panic as he realized that they were losing. He didn’t want to leave them. Even though he was scared, he was stubborn and defiant and pissed off. But there were other heroes here that were sticking their neck out for them, and because of that.. maybe it was wrong to simply let himself get taken. His mind was full of paradoxes. But Carol was doing a nice job distracting them, which was exactly what he needed right now. “Sorry–” He mumbled a pained last word to Gwen and then took off, aiming for the ceiling to swing over and kick one of the officers down to make an opening for himself. He easily broke the glass on the closest window and then flung through it, not looking back.

ERIK: If there was one thing Erik hadn’t expected to see, it was Wanda being taken down. His daughter was a force to be reckoned with, but this whole situation was new and strange and tonight wasn’t the time to get into what made sense or not. He quickly made his way over to her, ready to fight back if he was met with any resistance as he gently scooped her off the ground. Neither of them were the targets right now, and he was thankful for that as he got them out to head back to Krakoa.

RIPLEY: “Jesus fucking —” the blast from Carol was strong enough to send Ripley tumbling head over heels through the wall. It was yet another reason to despise Carol Danvers even though she had far too many already. For a moment she just laid on the ground spitting out chunks of plaster. She could hear Carolina running her fat mouth and some glass was broken.  Despite the suit and ability to rewrite reality she was new to this. Being some fake ass Avenger wouldn’t change that. Her bones cried out in protest as she pulled herself to her feet, already commanding herself to heal. “You know,” Ripley staggered back into the main room as she  wiped some blood off of her face with one arm. “I really want to kill you. Like really, really want to but they said no. Our rematch can wait for another day. So here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going down. Hard. And when you wake up you’re going to have a nasty headache. Sweet dreams, bitch.” Whatever cosmic power fueled her words took its toll before Ripley straightened and shoved a few locks of hair out of her eyes. “Wrap this up, Washington. Now.”

KATE: The force that Ripley had used to shove Kate back and into the nearest wall had come too fast and too hard and she hadn’t been able to will her body to phase through it in time. Though Kate didn’t know how it would matter — she would’ve either skidded on the floor outside or smacked into another wall. The impact had been powerful enough that it had knocked her out, only coming to to watch Carol crumble and collapse in a heap on the floor. A heart punched in her chest as adrenaline forced her to her feet, pushing through the aches and pains that wanted to keep her ass planted where it was. The impact had been strong enough that she’d either broken her arm or dislocated it, but she just held it as more agents rounded up kids and Ripley kept those who would fight back at bay. “I don’t think we can win this.” she said, not knowing if her voice carried over the commotion.

H.A.M.M.E.R.: The last of the underaged heroes were being collared, cuffed and carted away.  An agent had manage to subdue Sam Wilson and handcuff him to a chair and Carol Danvers was also down. “No, Miss Pryde.” Carolina shook her head. “You’re not going to.”  At her command an agent ambled over to the mutant and grabbed her by the injured arm for leverage before slapping a collar on her throat. “It’s set to turn itself off in an hour. Expect to feel weak and dizzy in the meantime. We very well could have taken you in, but Ms. Frost asked us to avoid doing so if at all possible.” Now that the room was nearly emptied, Carolina regarded the two remaining heroes with a slightly aloof smile. “We’ll be issuing a statement later about the minors. Until then, have a nice evening.” With the heels of her boots crunching over broken glass, Carolina and the H.A.M.M.E.R. agents left.

SAM: Nothing had gone according to plan, and now they had lost six people and an intergalactic diplomat. Carol was out cold and Pryde wasn’t looking too hot either. The Inhumans had escaped with Lockjaw near the beginning and the Asgardians had also left.  Reed and Sue bailing with their kid made sense; they had to get her home. But the others? Sam couldn’t swallow his guilt. He couldn’t even wipe the blood that  was dripping off his temple, the dark skin above his eye turning purple already from the butt of a gun that had taken him down for a few minutes. With both his hands cuffed to the table, it really felt more like a humiliation and a warning. Try to intervene and this is what happens. “Jesus.” He exhaled in one heavy breath. Back-up would be coming shortly to help them assess the situation, but it was too late. They lost. Now they just needed to see where they could go from here.

[popsicletheduck]

I’m stuck currently stuck in quarantine, bored as hell, and been listening to Thomas Sanders’ “Friends on the Other Side” mashup on repeat and feeling like there was a story stuck somewhere in there, so I did a complete lyrical analysis to find it. I’m not sure if I have the motivation to write the story out fully, but I share my rambling analysis (and hope someone else takes the ideas because I’d love to read it). Yes I know I’m like, way way late on loving this song, but hyperfixations aren’t always the most organized things.

There are, for our purposes three characters/groups of characters for analysis.  The Summoner: played by Thomas, referred to in lyrics as ‘he’ The Demons: while they do seem to have some individual purposes/motivations, for this breakdown we’ll be considering them as a whole. Occasionally referred to by themselves but never by another character The Customer: the listener, referred to as ‘you’

You're in my world now, not your world The place that we are in is separate from our world. This separation could either be distance (it is a different physical place than our world) or temporal (it was our world in the past but is now his world)

And I've got friends on the other side (I find delight in the gruesome and grim) He's got friends on the other side From their sudden appearance, later disappearance, and occasional nonhuman traits (black/flickering eyes), it’s clear the other members at the table are something supernatural. I use ‘demon’ as it’s what Thomas refers to them in the outro as, but we’ll get back to who these people might be later. From here, however, we know they are 1. evil in some sense (“I find delight in the gruesome and grim) and 2. connected to the Summoner (they are his “friends”)

Sit down at my table Put your mind at ease (I put a spell on you) If you relax, it will enable me (Now you're mine) to do anything I please I can read your future (Be prepared) I can change it 'round some too (Trust in me) I can look deep into your Heart and soul (Poor unfortunate souls) Make your wildest dreams come true (so sad, so true) Here we learn that the Customer is not in a good place (the “poor, unfortunate souls” seems to be at least partially directed at the listener), but it is plural, souls. The Customer is not the first to come to this table. They’re here to get their “wildest dreams” fulfilled, but either getting them here involved some magical coercion or what is about to happen is going to bind them to this group, depending on how you want to interpret “I put a spell on you/And now you’re mind”. Either way, dubious consent is involved.

I got voodoo, I got hoodoo I got things I ain't even tried 'Cause I've got friends on the other side The only things I will outright ignore, because the Summoner is a white dude and these are Black forms of magic, as per the original context of the song, I will simply generalize to say the Summoner is powerful in magic and possibly multiple forms of magic i.e. he can do more than just summon the Demons

And if you aren't shaking, there's something very wrong 'Cause this may be the last time you hear the boogie song Woah (woah) Woah (woah) Woah (woah) I'm the Oogie Boogie Man Demons = bad. Also, whatever is about to happen to the Customer might involve their death, if this is the “last time [they] hear the boogie song”

Beware! Take care! He rides alone! This vampire bat This inhuman beast He ought to be locked up And never released He swears to the longest day he's dead He'll show them that he can get ahead The Summoner, however, might be worse than the Demons, as it’s one of them that sings “He ought to be locked up/And never released”. The Summoner also “swears.. he’s dead”. This death could either be metaphorical (he is such a drastically different person from who he used to be that his former self is now “dead”) or literal (some magic, probably dark, brought him back to life). He also wants to “get ahead” as some form of revenge against a nebulous ‘them’ and “rides alone”. Despite him calling the Demons “friends”, there isn’t actually any connection there. He is in charge, alone at the top of the pyramid. 

The world was such a wholesome place until He had a plan to shake things up And that's the gospel truth The answer to our first question. This world is separated from our own temporarily, and it was the Summoner himself who made this “his world”. This puts me in mind of some dystopian society with the Summoner as its leader.

Are you ready (fire) Are you ready? (hellfire) Are you ready? (Are you ready?) (This fire in my skin) Transformation Central (Yes, it is he) (Transformation Central) (But not as you know him) Reformation Central (Reformation Central) Transmogrification Central (Read my lips and come to grips with reality) Can you feel it? You're changing, you're changing, you're changing, all right The Customer here changes, but we also get further confirmation that the Summoner is Something Else: “he/But not as you know him”. Assuming that this is the Customer’s first interaction with the Summoner, the only way they “know him” is as human. Combined with the context of the Customer changing, references to the Customer dying earlier, and the Summoner already dead, it’s possible whatever happened to him is happening to them. With this not being the first customer at the table, it’s possible the Demons are, in fact, past customers, tricked into undergoing some magical transformation at the hands of the Summoner. And that transformation just happened to the Customer.

Far from the ones who abandoned you Chasing the love of these humans (love is an open door) Who made you feel wanted (because they guzzle up the things you prize) Some motivation on what drove the Customer to the Summoner. They were abandoned by people they care about (“the ones who abandoned you’) who also took “the things you prize”, and this was the in that the Summoner/Demons needed (“Love is an open door”.) The way these lines are sung, however, also seem to imply that the Demons are singing somewhat from a place of personal experience, further solidifying the idea that they were formerly humans altered by magic.

I hope you're satisfied But if you ain't Don't blame me Don't forget it Don't forget it Don't forget it You'll regret it Some level of obedience is now required of the now transformed Customer. If they have, in fact, become a Demon, it’s possible they will be required to assist the Summoner in later transformations, or whatever other plots the Summoner has.

This land we behold This beauty untold A man can be bold It all can be sold As a specimen, yes, I'm intimidating The plots the Summoner has involve money and selling everything. This is why I’ve referred to the listener as “the Customer”. If “It all can be sold”, it seems likely they paid for the transformation they just underwent, although it also seems likely they weren’t entirely aware ahead of time what they were paying for.

And you can blame my friends on the other side (You got what you wanted) (But you lost what you had) Shh… There is some level of secrecy to this whole operation. The outcome (being transformed into a demon) and the nature of the Summoner (not human) both seem like things that he would want to keep under wraps. The Customer has “got what [they] wanted” (some way back to the humans that abandoned them and/or the unspecified “thing they prize”) but “lost what [they] had” (their humanity). 

In summary:

The Summoner was once human, died in some way, and was brought back by magic, possibly his own which made him nonhuman

He owns/runs the world in some fashion through the selling of his magic, as a means of spite and revenge against an unspecified group, possibly humanity as a whole

The Demons were once humans transformed by the Summoner’s magic, possibly as he himself once was, and the song is the same transformation happening to the Customer

The Customer felt abandoned/betrayed by humans/a group of humans and was not in a good place, which lead them to the Summoner

In short, a fascinating tidbit to work into a story. This could either be the story in its entirety, or the background for a larger piece (someone investigating the disappearance of the Customer, perhaps?)

I’m sure the idea will continue to percolate in my mind for the next little bit, but if someone else wants to take these ideas and run with them, feel free! Just let me know if you do decide to use them because I’d love to see what you make of them.

[collectedbooks]

finally finished the good omens script book, under the cut are my favorite points of interest! most have to do with aziraphale, but there’s a lot for crowley too.

aziraphale sasses the hell out of crowley about his antichrist birth organization skills

aziraphale saying “oh sugar” instead of oh shit...

everyday by buddy holly is the theme song, love that

aziraphale doesn’t know how an ansaphone works. this was in the book too but it’s still funny

aziraphale brought shortbread for the drive to the convent. does he think this is a date? please say yes

crowley asked aziraphale if heaven wouldn’t give him (crowley) asylum and aziraphale was going to ask him the same about hell

aziraphale says “what the hell” after pointedly not swearing earlier. hypocrite ass

aziraphale is fine with killing the antichrist himself but gets upset about the humans killing each other at tadfield manor....thinks he’s always doing the Right Thing but knows it’s the Wrong Thing if the humans do it? hypocrisy

“aziraphale is rather enjoying having the upper hand in the ideas department for once”

crowley says “dude. chill.”

“for a moment his noble better nature rejects the idea out of hand. THEN HE FALLS...”

“aziraphale is softening. they haven’t spoken in a hundred years: he’s realizing they are still friends.”

why was shadwell in prison?? america explain

“i work in soho, i hear things” aziraphale has eyes and ears everywhere; patron saint of soho confirmed

the neon halo blinking on and off above aziraphale’s head is the HARDEST that neil gaiman has ever gone

michael: when your cause is just you do not hesitate to smite the foe, aziraphale. there’s that ideology that aziraphale is trying to shed.

“crowley looks back. he looks at aziraphale. above them, a beautiful starry sky. and crowley softens.”   jesus janthony christ.

“aziraphale is looking for someone. he spies a human statue dressed as an angel, with wings. it’s not him.”   GOD

gabriel about aziraphale: “i’m disappointed in him. not thinking like an angel.”

crowley “looks up, and talks to god, in the classical fashion.” wonder what they’ll say for how aziraphale prays…

crowley in the cinema. “he’s waiting for the end of the world. out of time. out of hope.” kill me

the fact that crowley saw aziraphale walking down the street and left dagon on read…..priceless

aziraphale looks hurt after crowley says he won’t even think about him

the music for the gavotte scene was recommended to be “i am a courtier grave and serious” from gilbert and sullivan’s the gondoliers i am LOSING IT

“aziraphale is heading down the street, looking harried and as if he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. which he is.”

sandalphon says “you know how we treat traitors in wartime?” to aziraphale i HATE

there was meant to be blood on aziraphale’s lips after sandalphon punches him i am SO

“why would you do this? we’re the good guys.”

aziraphale (resolutely not swearing): you. you B…AD angels.

“seducing women to do your evil will!” “i think perhaps you’ve got the wrong shop.” is STILL the most iconic addition

crowley on the verge of tears in aziraphale’s burning bookshop fucking hurts me to my core

“right. i’m done. i’ve had it. i don’t care about any bloody angels or humans or anyone. i hate you all. somebody killed my best friend, and i don’t even care who did it. bastards, all of you.”   😭

when aziraphale is discorporated, his heavenly appearance is all his normal clothes but gleaming white

aziraphale: i have no intention of fighting in any war. “all angels on the floor turn and look at the angel who has said the unsayable.”

aziraphale can’t actually see crowley in the bar scene…he has no idea how wrecked his best friend is

aziraphale doesn’t take sugar with his tea. bastard

aziraphale crosses his fingers under the table when answering shadwell’s nipple question

aziraphale is wearing madame tracy’s pink motorbike helmet in the mirror of her scooter. what an ICON

they describe crowley’s suit in the burning bentley as “interestingly ripped”…boob window for crowley 2k19

aziraphale introduces crowley to madame tracy as “he’s…well, we’re sort of business associates.” (john mulaney vc) you know, like a liar

aziraphale was fully about to murder adam. i don’t think i can stress this enough.

aziraphale pokes himself to make sure he’s solid once he’s separated from madame tracy

aziraphale isn’t threatening crowley with the sword, “just making his point that he can do dangerous out-of-character things if he needs to.”

crowley: what if the almighty planned it this way all along? from the very beginning aziraphale: takes a drink from the bottle of wine

aziraphale looks like he’s going to cry when crowley reminds him that the bookshop burnt down 😭

aziraphale-as-crowley looks depressed 😭 he still thinks his bookshop is gone

the angels kidnapping crowley-as-aziraphale zip-tied his hands i’m MAD

aziraphale-as-crowley: my friend! they’re kidnapping my friend!

the hit hastur gives aziraphale-as-crowley would have killed a human…0/10 wahoos

“the van with [crowley-as-]aziraphale in it drives away, and [aziraphale-as-]crowley tries to crawl after it.”   HEY NEIL I JUST WANT TO TALK

crowley-as-aziraphale says “what fun. i love a barbecue.”

i am literally ENRAGED that sandalphon was like “hell yeah you can hit aziraphale” to the minor demon who brought the hellfire i WILL throw hands

uriel calls it a barbecue too CAN Y’ALL NOT

in the script uriel and sandalphon have their flaming swords drawn, so it’s not as insidious as expecting aziraphale to walk into the flame of his own volition. but i mean they didn’t include it in the show, so it is that insidious after all

aziraphale-as-crowley keeping his socks on for the bath has me in STITCHES

“he doesn’t actually have a newspaper and a cigar, but damn, he’s enjoying himself in his bath”   I’M LOSING IT

are we not going to talk about how fucking ice cold aziraphale is….the whole “so you’re probably thinking, ‘if he can do this, i wonder what else he can do’? and very, very soon, you’re all going to get the chance to find out.” BECAUSE THAT SHIT IS TERRIFYING

aziraphale-as-crowley: michael. duude.

crowley and aziraphale both get out of their own elevators and meet up to walk out together the POETIC CINEMA

PIGBOG AND THE IDIOTS WERE GOING TO BE INCLUDED

[amwritingmeta]

13x01: Full Episode Deconstruction

What am I supposed to say here? Sincerely, what? How can I even begin to create a coherent commentary on this episode when the imagery in my head is the entire crew with their balls out? *prostrates myself on the floor again* *fighting back tears of ever more resilient hope* *because them balls are so beautiful, babes*

I mean, if this isn’t balls out then I don’t know what is. And what the fuck does balls out even mean in the first place? 

It means the narrative tying back to the first act, which is S1-3. But they’re bound to - and have so done - do callbacks to the start of the second act as well, which is S4-5. 

I believe they’ll be picking and choosing to do callbacks to all the most memorable moments because this final stretch of the road is all about pulling the curtain back and revealing what the show really is all about, what the narrative has really been trying to tell us all along, moving us into an ending that feels surprising and yet wholly inevitable. 

Meaning the narrative is wrapping up and is singing its last note as it hurtles down the highway towards positive endgame. So far the sound of that note is a thing of epic proportion and we only have the first episode.

*light sheen of sweat on my brow*

So, here we go, upwards and onwards with this review. 

Let me tell you, firmly, that we screamed, we ( @margarittet @bluestar86 @tinkdw ) all screamed out loud as soon as the first notes of Nothing Else Matters started playing. 

Anyone who has seen the S12 recap reel that they released during SDCC this summer will have been screaming their heads off as well, because that reel was all about family and love and it was so CasDean/DeanCas/Destiel heavy that one cannot even begin to fathom the joy it’s brought all summer long. 

And here they go and use the song again (well, as Saz pointed out, now that they’ve got the rights why wouldn’t they?) but also we were just amazeballed in our eye sockets at the reveal that it was the chosen opening song and omfg we were four seconds in and already we could just tell that this. Was going. To be. Epic.

And fuck me I barely even know where to begin. So I’ll follow the above comment on the opening  music mind-melt with… the first scene, I guess. Feels a bit boring and standard since so much meta has already been published but, oh well, can’t be galloping on the back of a unicorn over the rainbow in every post.

…….. Can you?

No. Okay, no. Keeping it neat and tidy. Scene by scene, blow by blow —> off we go.

1. “Father?”

I have a feeling this season is going to be about fatherhood.

That’s totally sarcasm, because we all knew this season was going to be about fatherhood. Dabb has stated it on more than one occasion. Here’s our first introduction to Jack and glowy daddy devil eyes fade and give way for confusion almost immediately, which made me do a little dance and almost make a little love to poor Tink sat beside me on the sofa.

Yes, we knew he was going to be a blank slate but actually seeing it, seeing ALL of this episode play itself out, still gave shockwaves of pure awe. There he is. It’s Jack! Pleasure to meet you, finally.

2. Ummmmmmmmmmm no

I mean YES. Because oh my God, look at his wings on the ground. They’re too magnificent for words. (yes @magnificent-winged-beast that’s a nod to you) (a sad one) And Dean’s face. Look at Dean’s faaaaaaaace. And how it shifts from utter disbelief, like he can’t even compute, like, no, this isn’t supposed to happen, this isn’t right, and into focus at the reason for it and what can be done about it. It’s like he’s looking at Cas thinking How…? Why…? And then his brain clicks and all he can think is Nephilim.

(what is sort of horrifying to think about is that, to Dean, Jack is a baby - Dean doesn’t know that Jack’s all growed up...)

Tink has been banging her drum for this moment of Dean pulling his gun and running up to scare the bejesus out of Jack since May. I think I might’ve given her a bruise from screaming YES and shaking her by the arm. :P

3. Visual Manifestation of Power

Sam is Sam is SAM. God, I love Sam so much throughout this entire episode. He’s so Sam. That’s a shitty comment, but seriously, he IS SO SAM. Compassionate and logical. I believe this season is going to be so good to Sam and he’s already stepping into those Leader Sam boots.

As ever, Dabb uses a scene with efficiency and establishes a lot of things for us here.

Jack has a mission - he wants his father and needs to find him. Jack’s eyes glowing throughout the scene tells us that, no matter how calming Sam is trying to be, Jack hasn’t begun to trust him yet, and then Dean barges in, gun drawn, spots those glowing eyes, takes aim and fires off a shot. So the instinct of self-preservation takes over and Jack’s powers manifest.

The visual of Jack’s power is so goddamn brilliantly effective, because I think we know he’s bound go dark side, and he is fucking scary here. (I hope we’re right) (we have to be right in that he’ll go dark and I can’t wait!) (I can’t wait for Dark Jack!!) He knocks the brothers out cold.

TITLE CARD: it’s so fucking beautiful, what else is there to say?

My first reaction - as I’m certain most of ours was to it - was literally holy fuck, it looks like the sun!!

The up-side-down cross with an I inside it makes me think of how I believe this season will focus on the question of identity more than ever before, based in Dean finally beginning to trust, to have faith in people outside of himself, easing up on his need for control, all of this immediate and necessary stepping stones toward him finding self-worth in realising all of his self-worth is not in being the hammer, it is just as much in being the shield. 

He can take the backseat and still be useful, appreciated and loved. 

4. Burning on the Ceiling

Dean dreams of Mary stepping between the brothers and Lucifer. 

So, this dream sequence tells me that Mary going through the rift is - to Dean - the same as her dying, killed in hellfire once again, and him unable to stop it. 

But what else does this image from the Pilot hit home? This nightmare image of Mary burning on the ceiling? What does that image represent to Dean Winchester? 

Well, it set the course for his entire life, didn’t it? Losing her again is like a sudden reset, as though perhaps that change that had begun to take hold now after 12x22 was nothing but smoke and mirrors after all and this proves it. Whatever hope Dean had begun to feel for the future was taken from him with Cas’ death, and this flashback to his helplessness as a child when watching his mother burn only underlines how all the change he’s been going through is for nothing: he’s back right where he began. There is no happy ending in the cards for him. Ever.

Mary also bookends the episode, so Dean having a nightmare about her death leads into the reveal that no, Lucifer did not kill her the moment the rift closed: she’s still alive and, moreover, Lucifer is hellbent on her staying that way.

What else will you be proven wrong about, Dean Winchester? <3

5. Does He Have Wings?

The brothers wake up and we get a closeup of Dean picking up his gun. Yeah, he won’t be deterred by some freak power show, they’ve dealt with those before, and he is clearly hellbent on finding Jack. There will be no asking first-shooting later - that kind of power isn’t messed with, it’s put down before it can kill anyone. 

The cut on Dean’s lip intrigues me. He keeps touching it, it gets worse, then heals up, and at the end of the episode Mary has a cut in the exact same place after Lucifer hits her. There’s a visually established link between Dean and Mary in this episode. She was always an incredibly strong mirror for him, so this is bound to be meaningful later on. What’s lovely is that she remains a Cas mirror as well, stuck in her own Purgatory.

6. Nature Child

I love this shot of Jack’s feet walking in earth and dried pine needles, Jack surrounded by the forest. It feels organic and non-threatening, Jack sussing out this planet of ours with every new step he takes, and it’s even a subtle link to Cas and how he loves nature.

7. Pirate Pete’s Jolly Treats

Seriously, though. Seriously. We have a fast food joint with its menu changed by a blue-eyed and dark-haired Cas-on-the-outside/Dean-on-the-inside mashup of mischievousness. There is a joyful wink here that is not even subtle anymore and there are no fucks given and I love it. Please let it continue. (I have zero doubt that it will but, as ever, I could be wronggg)

High Seas Butt Combo is probably my favourite, but the buttshake has such a nice ring to it, too.

Now, Clark is a delight whatever view you take on him. Either he’s a guy with a wicked sense of humour and buckets of self-assurance who goes wide-eyed and looks rather delighted at the sight of a naked dude - or he’s all those things and just rather amazed at a dude without a stitch of clothing repeating the word “father” into his intercom. Whatever else there is, at the very foremost, there will most likely be friendship here as it seems Clark reappears in 13x03. 

Clark calls his mom -->

8. Sheriff Barker

*insert other people’s brilliant meta on the FUCKING MUG*

The FUCKING MUG could be a plant of the place itself, that something big will happen later on in the season in the spot where the rift occurred, where Jack was born and where Cas died. Kind of a significant place to remember the name of… Then again, they could easily plant it in dialogue or just bring up “the place where Cas died” so… Very very very visual plant of that mug. Or perhaps Phil Sgriccia is selling these mugs on eBay and is making a not so subtle product placement… (goes to check eBay to immediately endorse) (I’m a sucker for a good mug)

9. “Cas is…”

Look at that big beautiful body of water (rebirth) and the mountains (knowledge) and that lone white sailboat in the middle of it. Just so pretty, if you ask me.

Dean: We still have holy oil, right? Sam: For what? Dean: ‘Cause we’re gonna have to hit him with everything we’ve got. Sam: Hold on a second. Can we just talk about what happened back there? Dean: Sure, which part? Let’s see - Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is… mom’s gone, and apparently the Devil’s kid hit puberty in thirty seconds flat. Oh, and he tried to kill us. Sam: Yeah, because you shot at him. Dean: I tried to kill the monster, Sam, it’s kinda what we do. Sam: We don’t know what he is yet, Dean, and I had it under control. Dean: I’m sorry, are you defending the son of Satan? Sam: I’m not defending anything. I’m just saying, look, with everything that’s happened I’m obviously spun out also, but we need a plan. Dean: Yeah - kill him. That’s the plan. Look, right now all that matters is finding him and ending him before he hurts anybody else. Now, once we do that we’ll figure everything else out. Sam: What about Cas? Is he really dead? Dean: You know he is.

Ohhhh Dabb, the evil man. I’m sure there’s a ton of coda after the weekend (I’ve glimpsed one or two!), but wow, Dabb left out the scene of the brothers going back outside before going after Jack, both of them standing on that sand, by Cas’ body, taking in those wings in daylight, Sam maybe just double checking for a pulse or any sign of life, Dean… well, I think he’d still be just blankly staring because it’s starting to sink in. 

Then Dean lifting Cas in his arms and bringing him inside while Sam goes and gets that sheet to cover him with. Oh, my heart. This is where that “You know he is” from Dean stems from, right? Yeah. They moved him inside and they know that there’s nothing they can do. Sam still holding out the smallest hope and Dean feeling it deep inside, that this is it. He’s lost Cas. And nothing else matters, as this entire episode demonstrates to us.

*mind* *so* *fucking* *blown*

Here’s the thing. In this my most recent long ass episode deconstruction I talk about how Castiel entering Dean’s life sets about a change, sets about a sudden need for self-examination, because Dean’s attraction to Cas is undeniable even to him and, to be honest, looking at that small smile in 4x05, he looks like he just might be in the first stages of falling in love. And the point of the love story (of any love story) is to push character progression. To make Dean need something more out of life, which will lead to him slowly daring to hope for more, because the need inside is taking over and is overriding any fear of the possible fallout.

Shooting that grenade launcher and tearing down that wall at the beginning of 12x22, which lead directly into him letting Sam go off and lead a mission before turning around and confronting/forgiving his mother, was a leap and a bound for Dean’s individual arc. What I’m getting at is that the above dialogue ties back into the image of Mary burning on the ceiling and Dean’s loss of hope. He is so fucking bitter, right? “I tried to kill the monster, Sam, it’s kinda what we do.” 

It’s like - okay, so this is my only function on this Earth: to kill. Well, then, let me kill. I’ll kill anything and right now what needs killing is this thing related to the fucking Devil. This is all I am, right? This is all I’m meant to be or meant to have.

What is so remarkable about this dialogue is that Sam is subtly, but firmly, standing his ground, just as he did in 12x20 when they had the whole Cas-isn’t-himself exchange, where Dean was spun out of his head with fear, and Sam just did not see the situation in the same light at all. Sam gets to even make the awesome statement “and I had it under control.” Fuck yes, you did, Sam - you’re in control of this situation and Dean is spiralling through his anger-fuelled denial of his grief, wanting a target to blame and having it.

I love you, Sam Winchester.

Dean’s face after he says “finding him and ending him before he hurts anybody else” is also telling of where his head is at and who that anybody else is in relation to. (yes it’s Cas who got hurt)

And then they’ll figure “everything else” out - as in what to do about Cas’ body that they left behind in that house. 

And then, of course, we get the lens flare to end all lens flares.

I mean, when the fuck has this colour not been used in a situation related to Cas and now they are fucking undeniably tying it to Cas by having it flare TO CAS’ FUCKING NAME. *they will murder us all* *balls so fucking out and dangling in all their glory*

The rest is under the cut. It got long. *smiles in friendliest manner*

10. North Cove

Take note. I have a feeling the name of this place will be on the final exams. ;)

11. Heaven Divided

Cas lying dead on a table will haunt me forever.

So they establish that there is a side of Heaven still on Cas’ side, and one side that is decidedly not.

*hands clapping ecstatically*

The Decidedly Not side calls Kelly “the brood mare”, the more Empathic Angel clearly aggravated by it. It’s established they want Jack and when the Decidedly Not angel mutters that of course Jack’s gone, looking down with something like disgusted disappointment at Cas before covering him up again, we get this expression from the Empathic Angel as Decidedly Not moves off:

Now, she actually looks smugly pleased here, right? Like she’s happy her companion doesn’t suspect what she’s really up to. I’ve no spec to add because I’ve no fucking clue what this means, but Heaven being up to old tricks doesn’t feel too far-fetched. Wether it’s tricks for the good or tricks for the worse remains to be seen. It is doubly-intriguing that the angel looking like she’s up to misbehaving is the angel empathic to Cas, thinking he “deserved better”. This expression is also linked to Jack, though, and the fact that he’s gone: is she looking pleased because Jack slipped through their fingers? Or are there bigger things afoot here… We shall just have to wait and see!

12. There Is No Such Thing as Weird

I mean, this just made my fucking day for the rest of the fucking year. My brain, my head, my soul and my heart - forever singing praises, because yes. If nothing else had given me the balls out feels, this would be the moment that I just went holy fuck they are making a fucking statement right here and right now because THIS IS WHAT THE SHOW HAS ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT. And this made me feel they are bringing it to the forefront now. This is what this season will be dealing with: no more black and white, all of it glorious shades of grey all over. 

Honesty.

Ie. BOOM SHAKALAKA: curtain drawn back and look at the truth of us.

Sheriff Barker: There is no such thing as weird. Everyone’s normal in their own way.

I do so adore you, Andrew Dabb.

I was so happy when Jack said that Kelly is in Heaven. She sacrificed herself out of love because she had such faith in him, she felt his goodness surge through her when he saved her life, and I will continue to believe he saved her life out of the love she’d already taught him, rather than blind self-preservation - and the same when he killed Dagon. That’s why the flash he gave Kelly of Cas stepping in front of her contained the dialogue “You get away from her” rather than “You get away from them.” But I shan’t digress. I’m just happy she’s in Heaven.

And “the bad woman burned”. Dagon as representative of evil in 12x19 is no surprise, but oh my God how nice to hear Jack label her as such. He remembers the universe screamed, which is amazing exposition for his powers. 

I kind of love how there’s such an air of Jody around Sheriff Barker, and definitively a mothering energy as well. I wonder if both mother and son will be a possible addition to Wayward. It’d be such cool beans.

Clark asks Jack what he’s on and we just get Jack being Cas, wearing a tan jacket and just feeling like Cas and it’s amazing. Yeah, it is fucking amazing. And Jack’s hungry —> so fucking human. As in showing his humanity, not foreshadowing anything human for Cas!! (just to be clear)

13. Baby Is So Dirty!!

So the brothers arrive to Jolly Pete’s and it’s Sam’s idea to go check it out, while Dean is being overtly aggravated with the mere idea, right? He sends Sam in alone so that he can call Jody, which I personally think is a pretty amazing sign that the codependency is continuing on its track of crumbling into dust. After the call, Dean sits for a second, reflecting, and since he’s alone he takes the opportunity. (we know what he does - he goes around the corner and prays)

14. Sam and the Butt Combo

This is a well-written, tight piece of exposition right here, but nope, I’m leaving it for now and might come back to it another day because I love Miriam. 

On Friday we were all loving the fact that Sam spots that menu and does his Reaction Face to it - his oh, ok, so that happened face. It feels significant for this season. Especially since that menu was created by our walking, talking Cas/Dean in-on-body embodiment. 

Also, Jack has the coolest fingerprints in the history of fingerprints.

15. Elsa

Okay, so I sincerely just love this shit. Any Disney reference breathes air into my lungs and mentioning Elsa is… well, it’s fucking significant because shedding your tightly held facade to be free of the idea of what you should be, and be happy with who you’ve been all along, is kinda the point of Dean’s arc.

Now.

Miriam: I punched a wall once. Well, a poster on a wall, but same diff, right? Freshman year I had this roommate - Becky - she had this giant poster of Elsa - you know, from Frozen? And I mean, first: who brings something like that to college? A cartoon, really? Like, hello home school, right? Anyway, Becky was - and I say this in the most feminist, screw the patriarchy way - a giant super-bitch. She’d take things and break things and piss people off and just do whatever she wanted, no matter who it hurt. It’s like the whole world was just Becky to her, you know? Dean: So you punched her poster. Miriam: And lit most of her stuff on fire. I’ve got issues. Sam: Dude, what’d you do to your hand? Miriam: Don’t ask. He’s super-sensitive.

Watch this scene again and watch how Dean reacts to her dissing Elsa, dissing liking cartoons at college age, dissing home schooling, look at how he just relates to fucking ALL of it and how he’s so done with her. He then brings out a bottle of alcohol, takes one swig of it (after fucking praying and getting nothing for it and brutally attacking a sign as a violent outlet for... despair, pent up grief, fury - take your pick), pours the rest on his wound and doesn’t drink a drop more of it, all the while being mostly aggravated with the scantily clad, attractive girl on the opposite side of Baby’s roof. 

I mean, I’m just saying that he didn’t ask Sam to get him a burger and he didn’t focus on the fast food right in front of his nose, he barely touched that drink and he’s not for one second seeing this girl as any kind of means of distraction. Idk if we will get coping mechanisms galore in the coming episodes, but personally I would rather he shut himself away in a darkened room and didn’t want to engage with the world at all because what the fuck is even the point? He’ll do the job, but other than that? Meh. (but we’ll see) (and if we do get coping mechanisms HEY that is so all good!)

Baby is like a lie detector. Shit usually gets real around Baby, so no wonder Miriam’s calling out of Dean’s deeper personality traits come out here, as well as the call-out to how he’s super-sensitive. Like whaaaaaat? YES. 

Miriam has come to act as exposition for how Dean really feels, rather than how he’s acting. She can see right through him, thanks to being an angel and all, and it’s interesting which buttons she immediately chooses to push. 

So I read this dialogue as being a deconstruction of Dean himself: 

his non-performing side is tied to the Elsa poster

his toxic masculinity is tied to the super-bitch

the poster got punched

most of super-bitch’s things got lit on fire

And “It’s like the whole world was just Becky to her, you know?” to me is such a resounding uppercut right into the jaw of control freak Dean that I can’t even. 

And then Miriam ends her statement with a “you know?” which is so telling, because Dean does know. He hasn’t related to the world in the selfish way Miriam paints it out as, but THAT IS HOW HE IS FEELING RIGHT NOW. 

So fucking guilt-ridden and full of self-blame that he can barely even stand it, as always - thinking that if he’d just related to Cas as CAS, rather than him seeing everything through his need to be in control of everything all the time, then perhaps Cas would be alive right now.

But there’s something else there, too - a budding hopelessness, a growing not-giving-a-fuck attitude, and it will be challenged and underlined later by Miriam calling our attention to it with one of the most epic lines of this entire fucking series. 

16. Flickering Lights

I had my comrades of the evening giggling like mad because, well, fan fiction territory galore. Flickering lights as Cas and Dean get it on. (I’ve read too little fan fiction to have been clued in on the joke without being enlightened but omfg just hilarious)

Then we get Jack as a fucking Cas-mirror again with “I like it. I like nougat.” (“I like emojis” and his literal way of communication just… omfg yes, because this Castiel is not the one coming back from the Empty. I believe we will get a more focused, BAMF Cas back who will have a mission and who will be completely dedicated to it, but he’ll still be Cas, with all the lessons he’s learned thus far.)

And we get Dean-mirror Clark (I’m sorry but his last name is Barker and… I mean, dogs bark and… there’s a whole lot of inference that can be made here but… okay just so amazing), who began the sequence at the police station with soft judgement of Jack’s sanity, to moving into assuming he’s high - and connecting with that behaviour - to now calling Jack “magic”. Such a Dean trajectory of rejection->acceptance. I raise my hands and applaud.

Jack is adorable. ^^^^

And here comes the angel radio and yes, absolutely, such a Dean and Cas first meeting callback that I almost want to lie down and cry and cry because just yessss please. All of the S4/S5 callbacks!! (all the callbacks) (from all over!!) (please)

And Sam tasers Jack in the back, which tells us electricity actually knocks this powerful being out cold and it must be linked to his humanity, right? (we’ll see if this is used by Dean)

17. Honesty

This is one of the most amazing scenes they could’ve given us this early on. This entire episode is telling us that this show is taking a turn for something wholly fresh, right? I mean, this is also Dean being so fucking done with putting on a performance - he does not CARE anymore - but it still sets the precedent for this season dealing with honesty and truthfulness and open fucking communication in completely new ways. *crossing fingers that it is so*

Sheriff: So what’re you, some kind of superhero? Dean: I’m just a guy doing a job.

Holy fucking hell does he not think of himself as a hero right now. He is so broken. Any semblance of a performance has left him. More than that, he is giving “the talk” in a completely straightforward way, and though it’s because every ounce of hope has left him, this is still an adult sat opposite that sheriff. Dean is all grown up.

Dean: So, Jack is a nephilim. He’s half-human, and half-angel. Angels are real, too.

HIS FAAAAAACE.

Crack goes my aching heart. Jensen Ackles breaks us every time!!

18. That’s Not His Name

This scene between Sam and Jack is golden in so many ways. Both Jared Padalecki and Alexander Calvert bring such heart to it. Dabb has written it with tension and moments of respite that create a fucking amazing flow and the exposition is just beautifully handled.

Also - Jack is one BAMF.

And Sam, though of course having a slightly ulterior motive for wanting to keep Jack on his side, is still able to relate to Jack on an emotional and intelligent level. (I’m not calling Dean stupid) (he’s spun out and just completely compromised by it at the moment is all)

Jack: I was scared, and when I get scared, things happen. I can’t stop them. Sam: Why were you scared? Jack: Because of the voices. They were so loud, so angry.

So, not a great first impression of Heaven, then. (yay!) Also, Jack’s fear informs the manifestation of his powers. But, there’s more. Jack switches mode from being on alert to sitting cross-legged and relaxing, surprising Sam by asking if he’ll tell “them I’m sorry.” Meaning the sheriff and Clark, of course.

Sam: Jack, how are you-…? How are we talking right now? I mean, you’re not even a day old, how do you speak English? Jack: My mother taught me. Sam: So you talked to her? Jack: I was her. Sam: Okay, and your… powers. Did she teach you those too or…? Jack: No, I… I don’t know why these things happen. It’s like I’m me, but not me. Sam: Jack. Look, before you were born you opened up a door to another world. Do you remember that? Jack: Yes. Sam: Okay, um, could you do that again? Jack: I don’t, I… I have to find my father. He’ll protect me. Sam: Jack, you gotta listen to me. That’s not really what Lucifer does. Jack: Lucifer? No, that’s not his name. My father is Castiel. Sam: What? Jack: My mother, she said Castiel, he would keep me safe. She said the world was a dangerous place. That’s why I couldn’t be a baby, or a child. That’s why I had to grow up fast. That’s why I chose him to be my father. Where is he? Sam: He’s dead.

Okay --> Holy Graal of Exposition.

So I read this as Jack not “talking” to Kelly meaning that he felt what she felt, he heard her thoughts - he was her, and she was him. 

How I interpret this scene is then that there’s a clear difference between:

Jack talking about his powers and appearing unsure

Jack talking about opening up that door, remembering it, and looking somewhere between disliking the memory and threatening pain if Sam pushes him further

Jack talking with ease and softness about Kelly 

This differences underline for me how much Jack loved his mother, his love informed by how much she loved him because he was her, he was kept safe in that love.

“It’s like I’m me, but not me” is extremely intriguing, however. This meta writer - and most meta writers I know - well, we’re pretty much assuming Jack will go bad at some point and this might be key to that switch. 

Perhaps Jack is the one under threat of control. I always figured he’d be manipulated (like Christ was tempted by Satan before being put on the cross) but what if this is why he needs protecting? He can’t control his powers and, if someone finds the key, his powers might end up controlling him, especially since he’s connected to everything (he heard the fucking universe scream) (I’m crossing fingers it’s Michael who gets his greasy paws on him) (it.would.be.so.amazing!!)

Jack remembers opening up the rift, but I maintain that if he’s not in control of his powers now, then he did not open up that rift intentionally.

However, he knows it was a bad thing to happen and whatever sensation is linked to it reminds him of his need for protection, reminds him of his mission to find his father. So the thought of the rift makes Jack immediately feel exposed, in need of protection and, most probably, guidance by his father.

Yeah, we screamed the bloody house down, you’d better believe it, at Jack actually fucking stating in dialogue that his father is Castiel, not Lucifer. 

I mean, Dabb is not pulling any punches here, naming Lucifer and having Jack reject him as his father figure - he flat out in episode one rejects his birth father - and stating that he has chosen his father, and his father is Castiel.

(there are candles burning right now) (candles of fragrance and love on my altar of worship)

My longer 12x19 meta is grounded in Kelly as the Good Mother and Cas as the Good Father Figure and as concepts they sound almost ridiculously archaic, but my point was that the narrative of 12x19 circles the theme of Good vs Evil through Cas/Dagon-Luci and Kelly/Dagon-Luci, as well as the theme of parenthood so prevalent throughout the entirety of S12. So to all of Jack’s declarations - hell yes and please and thank you!

And now his father figure and protector is dead. Jack isn’t too happy about that. He looks downright vengeful. (common ground with Dean…) (*crossing fingers*)

19. Frigging Angels

So, honesty saves the day and the sheriff is about to let them go without a fuss - to Sam’s astonishment. Yup, a whole new world, Sam.

Dean: So, let’s grab Damien here and find someplace quiet.

Dean is just going to literally kill this newborn being without any hesitation and without asking any questions based solely on the principle that anything non-human falls in the category of monster  and has to die. Okay, fine, Jack is the son of Lucifer but HELLO DEAN HELLO! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ALL YOUR LESSONS!!??

Oh, right, this is a callback to the beginning so we’ll realise how far you’ve come. Okay, alright. What was it that began blurring those black and white lines between the good and the monstrous of the world again? 

…. Hmmmm, let me think. 

Oh, right, it was Castiel coming into his life. 

There is so much in season four, but the most prominent thing is this movement into focusing the question that has always been a part of the show: 

What makes a monster and what makes a man? (yes I’m quoting The Hunchback of Notre Dame) (shut up) 

And now we get to glimpse Dean as he was, so that when Cas comes back the contrast will be un-fucking-mistakable. (I’ve no doubt) (but disclaimer I could be wrong because that ^^^ is spec)

And Miriam makes her reappearance in this sequence! Restating:

Miriam: I don’t know what he’s told you. I mean, I can guess. Some line about how he and his brother “save the world”? Grr. So macho. But really, he’s not a hero. He’s Becky. You take things and break things and piss people off and just do whatever you want no matter who it hurts. Also, you’re a giant super-bitch. So yeah, you’re Becky. And Becky needs to die.

So, here - instead of the Elsa reference and a super-sensitive comment, Miriam calls out performing!Dean with her “Grr. So macho” line. And it ties in with how little macho manly man performance is left in Dean, because of what comes next: “You take things and break things and piss people off and do whatever you want no matter who it hurts.”

And his face tells us what?

He looks like he agrees with her. And he doesn’t even offer up the smallest protest. Because he knows she’s right, and that’s why he didn’t tell the sheriff that he and Sam save the world - he told her the exact opposite, downplaying their importance and making what they do sound like they’re part-time plumbers. He does not think of himself as a hero. Not at all.

The macho bravado of his toxic masculinity has slipped off him with all this loss. He’s thought of himself as Grr-so-Macho because it’s him as the hammer, it’s him on a mission, it’s him with a purpose, and he’s always put himself last, everyone else first, never thinking about himself - even saving Sam has usually meant putting his own life on the line, because Dean has never known who to be without his brother to protect - never expecting to have a future, and now, with the loss of Cas, he understands exactly how big a lie all of that has always been, because he’d started wanting more, had started hoping for more, and now that hope is gone.

There is no normal after watching the man you love die.

And what Miriam is still pushing on here, but even harder than across the roof of Baby, is the guilt of it all, as well as the forever burning thought in his head that he doesn’t deserve better, doesn’t deserve more, that this is what always happens because it’s what needs to happen - he’s one of the Becky’s of the world, selfish and reckless and this is what happens when you can’t work with others, when you can’t open up, when you can’t trust. And love is pain and has always been nothing but pain. There is no happy for Dean Winchester, not ever and good things just don’t happen to him. Or, at least, they don’t last.

But here’s the most epic fucking line ever spoken on this show: 

Becky needs to die.

The version of Dean with a poster on the wall and a bitchy attitude needs to go the fucking way of bye-bye. No more dual identity. No more Batman-superhero moments. 

It’s time to embrace change, Dean Winchester, and stop with the blame game and the guilt trip and allow this grief to take hold and allow it to evolve you into the type of man who, when the love of his life returns to him, will not hesitate to show him how much he means to him. *crossing fingerssss*

(Okay, there might be tentativeness and Thelma and Louise moments of awkwardly trying to suss out where he stands, but this time I hope that Dean will not be deterred by Cas’ deep frowns and questioning expressions, but rather Dean will step in there and dare to be himself and show Cas who he really is and that he wants to spend time with him. It’ll lay the foundation for Cas’ real transformation... But I’ll write another post about that.)

Also, Becky needs to die to make way, make way, for Team Free Will!

:P

So, now in this sequence of scenes we learn that Jack can’t be blasted away.

And Dean learns that Jack can’t bring Cas back. After Dean’s already prayed to Chuck for help and gotten no answer. So yeah. Ow.

Miriam: …Because Beiber in there, he can do almost anything. Dean: Anything? Miriam: Oh, sweet. Almost anything. Castiel - he’s dead. All the way dead. Because of you.

And she gets free by pressing her finger hard on that guilt button. 

Miriam stabs Jack with an angel blade - doesn’t kill him or even hurt him.

(Dean is mentally taking notes)

Speculation: I mean, it seems pretty probable that Dean is going to try and extract Jack’s grace, right? Somehow use that spell? For Dean it’d be a win-win if he gets to know and like Jack, because extracting the grace means no more nephilim power fucking up the world, but Jack gets to live. I just wonder if Dean will still be suspicious by the time Cas comes back and if this will be a source of external conflict between them. I think that could be fantastic, especially since Cas so expressly will come back on a mission to protect Jack.

20. The Bench

I mean COME ON DABB!! The callback to end all fucking callbacks when Cas, sat on a bench, professes he has questions and doubts and states that he’s not a hammer (he doesn’t WANT to be a weapon and omfg Cas I love you) and we get our first smile from him. Jesus Christ on a tortilla, that first glimmer of humanity. So delicious.

Sam wants to take Jack back to the bunker and Dean agrees. Sam is surprised.

Sam: So you… changed your mind? Dean: No. No, nothing’s changed. He’s still the Devil’s kid, he’s still evil, he still brainwashed Kelly and Cas, and even if he hasn’t gone Big Bad yet, he will. Sam: You don’t know that. Dean: Yeah, I do. Since when have things ever gone right for us? So until I figure out a way to end him, we bring him home. At least there the only people he can hurt are you and me.

So while Jack is sitting, pensive and Cas-like giving us a visual link to our first human moment with him, Dean is going on and on about his mistrust of Jack. Two conflicting messages and I Wendy I Wanda which one we’re meant to take to heart.

Thing is, we know more about Jack than Dean does at this point, and so does Sam. Sam doesn’t know one hundred percent how to handle Jack or how much of an allegiance they’ll have with him, but his compassion is real, and he’s seen Jack the way we’ve seen him.

Dean is wrong when he mistrusts Jack based solely on him being the son of the Devil - it’s narrow-minded and complete bullshit and not what this show is about. It’s a mindset the brothers have moved out of, which got them in trouble with the BMoL to begin with.

But Dean is right when he assumes Jack will go dark side. He will go Big Bad because it’s in the cards for him and for TFW. 

What gives me such a thrill of hope for the future is that Dean, in the first episode of the season, calls out his own lack of trust in anything ever going right for them. I hope the narrative is about to give us a slow series of events to prove him completely wrong. (but I could be wrong about that reading) (I would just love it and it falls in line with everything else they’re giving us) (oh believe me things will get dark and fucked up before they go right) (but I have faith that they will go right in the end)

What’s both horrible and good about him saying “At least there the only people he can hurt is you and me” is that, yes, it shows he really doesn’t give one fuck anymore about anything, even keeping Sam safe, but it also shows he doesn’t care about keeping Sam safe.

Sam just suggested that they bring Jack to the bunker and Dean is acknowledging Sam’s choice and allowing Sam to take his own responsibility for the consequences.

Smack down brodependency. Brodependency SMACK DOWN.

Die Becky die die die!! ;)

(I know there was a character on this show named Becky but I’m sure there are miles of thoughts on her and how Dabb choosing that name so very specifically might just be a not so subtle pointer to stuff so I’ll do a reblog of that topic instead)

Sam also clearly realises how low Dean actually is. He wants to say something, but Dean gets up and it’s time to go.

21. Lake House

Back at the lake house (can’t get over how Baby is so incredibly dirty and so miserable) (aw Dean) Sam tries to coax Dean into waiting to burn Cas, instil some tiny sliver of hope in him, suggesting they pray to Chuck, and Dean bites off “Don’t you think I’ve tried that” and I think we collectively fell into a heap of feels. Seriously, this was a clutch each other and hold on for dear life moment.

Dean fucking praying to God. Which we’d already heard him doing in the teaser they released, but still! Here it is!!

I can’t attack this scene in less than half a page. There is so much here. There is so much pain and need and anger and he even begs him. Twice. Dean begins with saying “I need your help” and moves into “us” when he accuses God for up and leaving them. But it’s ok - the bunching himself together with Sam - because it’s needed here. Dean’s praying for the both of them, for everything they’ve lost.

And oh did I mention earlier a lens flare to end all lens flares? Well, what do you know? They give us ANOTHER ONE! A fucking rainbow. And rainbows in this narrative - as far as I know and as far as this visual underlines - are completely linked to God. 

The fact that the scene is entirely framed by how it’s time to burn Cas’ body makes the prayer - for Dean - take on a whole new meaning, no matter that he’s praying for both himself and Sam.

“We’ve lost everything. And now you’re gonna bring him back.”

Are you... serious, Dabb?? (he is) (he so clearly is)

The flashback ends and Dean tells Sam “God’s not listening. He doesn’t give a damn.”

But he clearly does give a damn. His sign is right there in a visual plant!

And we all went, ohhhh. Will Chuck make an appearance in the Empty? It does make the most sense, tbh. Cas is in the fucking Empty, for crying out loud, from whence there is absolutely no return. So God appearing because his grandson needs a Guardian, a guardian said grandson himself has chosen, kinda makes sense, because who else can restore Cas’ burned out grace and send him back? But we’ll see! Cas might still meet himself in the Empty, tbh, with Chuck there. Either way, it seems the most logical that Cas will get to make a choice. Or will he? .... We’ll know in a few weeks!! :P

22. Kelly

Jack says goodbye to his mother, placing a hand delicately on her feet and it’s such a beautiful sign of respect and I’d look up the deeper meaning if I wasn’t already twelve pages into this meta. I’ll reblog and reblog gifs with reams of intriguing tidbits, I’ve no doubt! Such a gorgeous visual and, to me, underlining of how Jack truly loved his mother. (as ever, the artwork on the wall as Jack enters the room is eye-catching and those stormy seas with the sunlight breaking through dark clouds give me good feels, must say)

23. Cas

Yes. I cry. And I cry. And we all cry at this scene. I didn’t cry the first time around, I was way too overwhelmed by amazement that we even got this incredible visual and Jensen giving us one of those subtle, heart wrenching moment-upon-moments that is just… There are no words. What can I say about this scene that hasn’t already been said?

Dean steps in through that door almost as though he’s questioning if Cas will be there, leading with his head, not wanting to hope, but hoping all the same because every other time… But there’s the sheet, and there’s Cas underneath it. And the wide angle shot is so beautiful. Dean sighs. Like he’s been holding his breath with the hope and now… gone. No more. And he looks away, because it’s just too much. And then he looks, and it’s real and all of it is just so damn visceral. FUCK. And when Dean almost breaks down. When he has to stop, like he has that pain in his chest that makes you feel like your ribs are caving in… and he closes his eyes and he bends his head before he looks up at Cas again… And he knows he will be the one to wrap Cas’ body, there are no two ways around it, and he does it and it’s just... FUCK!

24. Pyre

They burn Cas and Kelly at sundown. Yes, so fitting. And Sam teaches Jack about how humans say goodbye. Also so fitting. And Dean says goodbye and we all just want to lie on a pyre as well. Sam says that they don’t know if Mary’s dead, and Dean says that yes they do, linking back to his nightmare at the beginning of the episode.

To him, Mary is gone, and he doesn’t even feel the urge to try to fight to bring her home, to find a way. I’ve mentioned it before, but his line “No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets - you gotta keep grinding” when he and Sam were hunting for Cas lends this such weight. 

Dean has never been here before. 

He’s a fighter, but now the fight has gone out of him, and he may keep grinding for the sake of it, but hoping that the grinding will lead somewhere good is done and dusted. At least according to Singer, who said Dean will carry on doing the job but will suffer bouts of “inertia” - which is another word for apathy, which is wholly connected to depression. I am just so fucking HAPPY!! *sadism*

The way the pyre is reflected in Dean’s pupils. Yeah. Fuck you, Phil Sgriccia!! <3

25. The Devil You Know

Mary and Lucifer in the AU will be interesting. I love that they might have to try and survive together and that Lucifer sees the potential in keeping her alive. Again, there’s that visual link between Dean and Mary with the cut on their bottom lip and I’m really looking forward to seeing how they’ll use it and if they use it and when and why and how! Oh, but wait - Lucifer has a cut in the exact same spot as well. Curiouser and curiouser. 

Final comments: I mean, what more could we want from this episode? I don’t think we could want anything more from this episode. Balls out with the love story because Dean’s entire appearance in this episode have to do with Cas, brodependency barely existent anymore, Jack is fucking perfection, all out orgasmic setup for what’s to come this season and the intimate moments that give us so much character are, as ever, to simply die for. I can’t wait for this week’s episode. OMFG WE HAVE A NEW EPISODE IN LESS THAN A WEEK! THIS IS WHAT LIFE IS LIKE NOW! CONGRATULATIONS - WE SURVIVED HELLATUS!! Now we just have to keep from biting our nails down between each new instalment. :P

Next time I’ll do a pure gif-post. Thanks for sticking with me throughout another long ass meta! ;D

[yeoldontknow]

Hero: 4

Author’s Note: Updating now as my sister will be in town this weekend, so I’ll not have time. The update schedule for this is going to be out of whack for a while as I actually don’t have a free weekend until July. I’ll update when I can, but it might slow. Sorry! Also, enjoy a political, PCY POV chapter because we all deserve it <3 Song for this chapter: Come Near Me - Massive Attack Genre: Vampire!Chanyeol; thriller; horror; suspense; drama; eventual smut Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Rating (this chapter): R (mostly for graphic depictions of wounds?) Warnings (this chapter): graphic depictions of burns; wrist cutting; swearing Word count: 3,571 (literally the fastest 3K ive ever written wth)

previous || masterlist || next

CHANYEOL

Finally alone in his bunker, Chanyeol presses his back against the closed door and finds himself gasping for breath. He’s starting to feel choked in his collared shirt, sweating and gagging for release, and when he reaches to loosen his tie he’s caught off guard by his hands. There's a twitch in his fingers he hasn't seen in centuries, the kind that comes with the outrage and disappointment of unfulfilled promises. All his self control has been exhausted, and he feels young. He let himself get drunk on the human and now he's craving everything he could possibly take from her. Tugging at the silk around his neck, he takes a breath and damns himself.

Now, even rooms away, her fragrant scent haunts him with disturbing intensity. She’s ghosting over his senses in a siren song, the coursing of the blood in her veins rich and tangible and alive. His fingers are saturated with her and, though it was foolish to even touch her, they’re only inches from his mouth and he entertains the idea of licking them clean. This, he knows, is dangerous. Once he has a taste, he will never have his fill. He’s gluttonous and unapologetic about his thirst, always has been, but there’s something burning inside her he’s never witnessed in any other human, and he thinks she’d taste like molten gold. Ignoring every urge making his chest feel tight and compressed with yearning, he lowers his hands and breathes deeply through his mouth.

He can taste her on the air, but the flavor is enough to cool his fire. Ideally he’d have her laid out before him and his throat would be full, teeth and tongue dripping with the stains of her, but this light tease will suffice. It’s enough for him to collect his will and manage a single, logical thought: what the fuck is she?

The beating of her heart, its stereotypical and unremarkable rhythm, signifies that she is human and living. But the strength of the beats and the flickering embers behind her eyes are uncharacteristic for a creature usually so meek and mild. Yes, her heart had fluttered in the cage of her chest and, yes, he had called her a hummingbird but before his eyes she’d transformed into something...Other.

In swift succession, she peeled away all his defenses and bore straight through the heart of him. She never begged for her life or said please; she didn’t ask to die, she demanded it with a vengeance worn only by immortals. She fought every word he said as though his mere presence was a punishment, and he thinks she was only this brave because she saw the fire in him and recognized it in herself.

As soon as he was in the room with her, he understood what Yixing had meant when he said she was nothing short of miraculous - though he thinks he’d prefer to call her peculiar. Yixing had worn his fright valiantly, acknowledging the possibility she was a weapon of combat against his better judgment. He’d been in her body, and this made him sympathetic to her, but Chanyeol had seen her heart and the the heart is fixed. The mind and body can lie, but the heart burns and is unwavering in its truth. And in her heart, she was comprised of nothing but fury.

So while she is miraculous, she is also volatile and this meant Chanyeol would keep her unbearably close.

Pushing himself from the door, he walks briskly to the desk in the center of the room and removes the stopper on the crystal bottle. He a needs a drink. What he really needs is to feed on something fresh. The blood contained here is hardly recent, over a week since it was spilled from its plastic container but it will have to do. It’s too soon to arrange another shipment, the cargo destroyed by the human containing a month’s rations for his own coven. Reaching out to his suppliers after such a short time would raise alarm and raise questions, causing more problems than he already cares to deal with - and while he has the stamina, he really doesn’t have the patience. His men will survive, but their defenses will be down and this is why it is urgent he focus on what he has lost rather than what he has found.

Rounding his desk with frustrated steps he drapes himself in the leather chair, stretching his legs and taking a swig of AB negative with a rumble in his chest. Immediately he feels the tension in his body ease to a manageable level, exhaustion fading from him like smoke. He’s not at full strength, but he’s still a battalion unto himself and this energy will be necessary in the coming days.

He looks once more at his hands and studies the stains on his fingers. He’s not sure how long they’ve been covered with blood but he decides to leave it on, wearing it like gloves. It serves as a reminder of and a tether to all the lies that have circled around him for days, and he thinks he looks good in retribution. Recalling Jun-Yeon’s interrogation, and his now dead body, he refocuses his attention and contemplates the information he knows to be true.

A halfling was born within days of the alliance with Jin-Soo’s coven completing negotiations, however whether she was spawned before or after his blood signature he can't be sure. Eventually, Jun-Yeon revealed that she was made with purpose and he feels residual disappointment that his captive was only forthcoming after the loss of his fangs. Knowing that she was not an accident, that she was not born out despondent misery, it is easy to discern that she was planted near the perimeter either as an insurance policy or as a breach of contract.

Correction: a direct, implicit threat.

Jin-Soo’s coven is sick from within, dwindling in numbers and running into difficulties negotiating bounties with multiple dealers - perhaps the worst of these issues being a lack of suppliers for food and arms resources. Chanyeol remains unsympathetic to this, finding the affairs of others to be trivial and inconsequential, and only became involved after a sudden influx of halflings appearing near his territory. He’s counted thirteen halflings in the last five months, and so it is neither uncommon nor surprising to find they've made another halfling - he’s come to expect it.

What makes this halfling different is the timing and the clause of the deal.

The halflings born by Jin-Soo’s comrades are acts of desperation, signs that some men are fearing the realities of starvation. This kind of fear bears with it a chaotic and disorganized frenzy, the kind where vampires with little self control feed on humans only to be consumed by panic. A panic of this magnitude results in halfling creation - a thing comprised entirely of mistakes; a realization that you have emptied a person, and to leave the body behind means reporters, and police activity, and theories, so you give just enough of your blood back to keep it alive.

It's alive but it's neither human nor vampire, and that's the worse curse of all - a thing born out of selfish malcontent.

It's typical for halflings appear without ceremony or pattern, given the nature of their birth. Sometimes there are many and other times just one. In every instance they were found barely alive and frail, abandoned so early in their existence it’s astounding they were even aware of functions beyond satiating their thirst. The point is that they were found. The point is that they were weak, and the point is that they stopped once negotiations began - the point is that they were meant to stop altogether.

This halfling was strong, born in what could have been hellfire given the sound of her screeches. A banshee in spirit, she descended on his coven swiftly and in the cover of darkness. She wasn't lost, wandering helplessly on the curtails of death, she was alert and she was hunting.

There was no bitter accident about her birth. She had not been abandoned, she’d been trained and she had been nurtured.

But while all the signs of her existence point towards an obvious betrayal, he has no tangible proof of intent or motive. In an ideal world, these losses would be pinned on Jin-Soo’s infighting, but without any evidence Chanyeol has no way to deflect the atrocity that took shape on his end of the deal. If the halfling was mere coincidence, then it would be on his men that money and blood have been lost - and that the secrecy of both covens is now at stake. And while his coven may be the largest in number and strongest, Jin-Soo's has the enough territory coverage and legitimate property assets that make for an advantage in battlefield strategizing.

In terms of coven and monetary growth, it has always been Chanyeol’s interest to merge with Jin-Soo however it was never a necessity. To him, the merger was merely a security measure. For Jin-Soo, the merger was a chance at survival, and now that ties between the covens are tarnished there is every possibility Jin-Soo will take a reactionary approach to politics.

Jin-Soo was always quick to war.

Chanyeol knows of these things to be true, has been, in some fashion, able to prepare for them and all their alternative outcomes - even the ones that don’t end in his favor. But the human acts as an unexpected variable and her very presence makes him nervous, not weak or impotent, but aware that something very much out of his control is looming on the horizon. She changes the rules, and he never liked change unless his gains were explicit and numerous.

His thoughts are disrupted by Jongdae, who swiftly enters while ushering the burned, mangled form of a vampire and a woman.

Not a woman. A halfling. The halfling.

She’s naked, and the flesh hangs from her bones as though it were soap and wax and melting away. Blood has been taken from her and not nearly enough returned to her limp skin. She chomps her jaw as she looks in every direction, throwing her gaze on everything all at once - she’s eating the world, first with her eyes and then with her mouth. And, when Chanyeol finally wills himself to actually look at her eyes, stomachs the pain and fear and anguish he’s loathe to admit pools in his chest, he almost feels tempted to give her mercy.

The human pieces of her are lingering, clinging desperately to whatever part of her mind they can find. They live the shallows behind her hungry stare, though the pupils are red and wild and ravenous. He can see them there, all the questions she can no longer ask, a thirst so violent and horrible she feels as though she’s carrying hell itself in her slow, black heart.

In a sense, she is.

Chanyeol has murdered and killed and tasted his way through history. He’s tortured men and woman, licked at the flesh of children, and fucked his way through and in between humanity for so long he thinks mercy is a myth. But when he sees a halfling, is forced to be confronted by something truly cursed, he thinks he could have it in him to be kind even if it is a fleeting whim.

Removing his attention from the halfling, he looks at Jongdae and watches the way his chest heaves with effort. There's more than battle or fright elevating his breaths, there's a fraternal heartbreak weaving itself along his features. The halfling struggles against him and he subdues her with ease but she is not, and likely never was, his focus, she's merely background noise.

Jongdae refuses to look away from something so Chanyeol follows his gaze and has to bite down on his tongue to keep from growling.

‘Kyungsoo?’

Slumped against the wall, a vampire with his fangs drawn is dry heaving. The flesh on his face and arms has been burned so severely hair no longer exists atop his skull. His lips are chafed and blood is seeping from the holes and grooves in his skin. The cells of his body are swollen and moist, leaking from the inside out.

Chanyeol knows it's Kyungsoo for two reasons.

The first is his posture. Broken and fingering true death with every haggard breath he draws, he still manages to emulate strength - remaining noble even at the edge of his demise. Even in the heat of reckless abandon, he would remain unmoved and taciturn, perpetually wearing the skin of a soldier.

And second, his eyes. They're pale white and starting to cloud over, threat of death passing over them in slow tendrils, but they remain fixed on Chanyeol with a dignified longing for absolution. And behind the white, Kyungsoo’s mind is screaming.

Jongdae speaks but barely opens his mouth. He's tense with sorrow but refuses to put these sentiments on display. ‘He brought the halfling to the gate. I’m not sure -’

Chanyeol doesn't give him time to finish his sentence. He snaps his fingers and quickly pulls a syringe from his desk drawer.  ‘Get Yixing.’

Swiftly moving toward Jongdae, he angles the syringe so that in one quick motion it is buried in her neck and she screams as though wrath itself was carried between her ribs. Almost immediately she falls limp, eyes wide open and staring at the sky as she falls back against Jongdae’s chest, silent and afraid. He catches her weight with ease, but his attention remains fixed on Kyungsoo.

‘Did you hear me?’ Chanyeol snaps, his voice cutting through the echo of her screams. ‘Get Yixing and put her with the others.’

His tone brings Jongdae back to the present, and he nods his head without saying a word. Hauling the halfling over his shoulder, he moves at an inhuman speed out the door.

Tossing aside the empty syringe, Chanyeol kneels before Kyungsoo and gingerly cradles his head in both of his hands. Now he can truly see the extent of Kyungsoo’s wounds, and he wonders how he even made it back to the hold with death perched on his shoulder.

‘Kyungsoo, what have you done,’ he whispers. Taking care to be delicate, he lifts Kyungsoo’s head so he can study the full state of him, hands slick with the excrement of Kyungsoo’s burns. He is fading in the palm of his hands, and Chanyeol feels as if the world around him is turning to ash.

‘I had to,’ Kyungsoo says, although the words come out bruised and raw. ‘I had to protect the coven.’

At the sound, Chanyeol collapses to the floor, his tailbone settling hard on the concrete beneath his despair. ‘Did you take Baekhyun with you? Did he give you any light to protect you?’ he asks.

Baekhyun is the only way they can walk in the daylight, his light an ironic sort of purity that protects only the damned. If he was with Kyungsoo when they found the halfling, and somehow got separated, Chanyeol needs to prepare himself for a body count. Baekhyun wouldn’t allow himself to be caught without a fight, and the sheer noise of him would draw attention for miles around.

‘I couldn’t tell -’ Kyungsoo’s response is cut short as he coughs, pus and blood frothing at the corners of his mouth. ‘They’d have stopped me.’

‘Damn right they would have,’ Chanyeol mutters, rolling up his sleeve. ‘You're fucking stupid for leaving without the day walker.’

Bringing his wrist to his lips, he draws his fangs and pierces his own veins until an angry gash, deep and weeping, lives between his marble skin. Putting the wound to Kyungsoo’s mouth, he furrows his brow and waits.

‘Drink this, it will keep you alive until Yixing can heal you.’

With a groan, Kyungsoo turns away from blood and whimpers. ‘I don’t deserve your blood.’

Kyungsoo is letting his guilt kill him. It was on his watch that the deal was ruined, and so it will be on his watch the coven can be saved from at least one threat, even at the cost of his life.

Indignant rage boils at the base of Chanyeol’s spine, and he thrusts himself forward to force Kyungsoo’s lips open with the pressure of his arm. ‘Goddammit, Kyungsoo!’ he growls. ‘Drink!’

Weakly, Kyungsoo begins to suck and Chanyeol feels his eyes roll back at the stimulation. This was always his least favourite part of healing with blood, the sheer intimacy of the action. Pieces of himself being given away, pieces he had no control over, the darkness spreading from his soul and into his men like a sickness.

‘I don’t want to punish you Kyungsoo, but you keep giving me reasons to,’ he says, lifting his wrist after Kyungsoo has had his fill. Groaning, he feels the skin of his wrist mend itself together with a stinging burn.  

The clouds in Kyungsoo’s eyes have faded, the blue glimmer of immortality speckling the brown irises once more. His life had been saved, but only just.

‘You have to punish me,’ he hisses, coughing once more but this time it is infinitely less wet. ‘I endangered the coven. It’s my blood oath to die if I ever do such a thing.’

‘And is my oath to protect you,’ Chanyeol says with equal vigor.

‘You cannot be easy on me,’ Kyungsoo says fiercely, and for a moment his human form saying the similar words.

‘You cannot let death be easy for me.’

‘You have punished yourself enough for the both of us,’ Chanyeol chastises, though his statement is all encompassing and grand, covering centuries of mutual regret.

He knows this is precisely why Kyungsoo is not his second in command: he’s too noble for his own good. To a fault, his desire for righteousness and justice, to protect his comrades with honor, persuades him to make choices that are both irrational and dangerous. Too willing to lay down his life for his brethren, he serves with an affection that is toes the line between self-sacrificial and foolish. And while this is undoubtedly his best quality, it is also his most imprudent.

‘You were my first,’ Chanyeol says softly. ‘We have grieved together, and suffered so much loss. I cannot mourn you alone.’ He doesn’t think he’s ever been more genuine about anything in his life, and he satisfied that it’s these words that make him so.

Yixing bursts through the door with Jongdae at his heels, and with one glance at Kyungsoo it’s clear he’s biting back a howl of remorse. He doesn’t ask questions, just immediately settles at Kyungsoo’s side and touches him with the sort of compassion meant only for lovers. Consent here is unspoken and implied, openness given fully before it is sought and within moments Yixing is swimming in Kyungsoo’s head.

‘Can you heal this?’ Chanyeol asks, mumbling so has not to disturb Yixing’s concentration.

‘I can, but it may take many sessions. He’s been burned straight through, even his organs are scorched.’ The words fall from Yixing’s mouth but his eyes remain closed and he appears as though he has left his body behind, his voice absent and transcending the atmosphere.

‘Do what you can,’ Chanyeol commands, turning on his heels to approach his desk. ‘I’ll have questions for him later.’

Ripping open a drawer, he takes an empty file and brings it to one of his fangs. He wastes no time in pulling the top off and bringing it to his mouth. After a brief moment of focus, a single, pure drop of saliva falls into the glass and he caps it with his thumb.

‘Sire,’ Jongdae says, warily, ‘you aren’t at full strength. At least let me go with you.’

It took five centuries with Jongdae as his second for Chanyeol to be provided the leisure of knowing how well Jongdae could read him, though he thinks sometimes he allows himself to feel surprise just for the thrill luxuriating in the feeling of something comfortable. He knows this is why he is so powerful, every action he takes followed carefully behind by Jongdae as a means of support and balance. Never has he felt the need to glance behind him to check for Jongdae’s presence, it was always assumed and proved to be there - felt sometimes even over miles of physical disconnect. Jongdae is always there, a knowing specter looming in the shadows to take care, and to manage, and to guide.

But while Jongdae can read him with ease, Chanyeol knows when Jongdae says things out of propriety rather than expecting a response - he already anticipates the answer before it’s given.

So when he brushes past him without a second glance, he doesn’t even need to listen to know exactly what Jongdae says.

‘Get some rest, Yixing. I’ll bring Kyungsoo to his bunk. We’ll need you soon enough.’

And he knows that Jongdae is locking the gate behind him as soon as he steps through, putting the coven on quarantine - no one in and no one out - until Chanyeol himself is standing back at the bars demanding entry.

He knows that Jongdae is putting Jongin and Xiumin on patrol, and keeping Suho at his side as means of precaution.

He knows that Jongdae is preparing for him not to return at all.

[aethelar]

Newt is a really, really weird demon whom Percival Graves summoned to help with MACUSA's Grindelwald problem. Go wild.

When people look at Percival Graves, they see his grandfather’s grandson. Not his father - Leodegrance Graves is a quiet man, the sort whose cardigans are soft and have elbow patches, the sort who putters around his bookshop and hums snatches of songs to himself as he sorts the books by size and personality. People tend to skip over Leo, not that it makes much of a difference to him.

But still, people look at Graves and they see a Graves, like his Grandfather, like his Great Grandfather, like the whole line of them before him. They see his purposeful strides, the way magic bends wandlessly to his will, the hardness in his eyes when he makes an arrest. The Graves are an old family with old roots, a family of duellers and fighters, a family whose magic is straightforward, blunt and strong.

When Grindelwald designs his prison for Graves, he designs it to contain a Graves in any and every way possible. The wards cannot be flooded. The iron cuffs dampen and strangle magic, pressing in against Graves like a crushing weight he can barely breathe through. The door cannot be kicked down. It is, in many ways, the perfect prison and if Graves were only a Graves and nothing more then he’d be trapped to wither and die in the barren cell.

It is good for Graves that he has a mother then, and better still that Grindelwald is fool enough to overlook her. Carlotta de Lucci learnt the old magics at her mother’s knee; her son learnt them just the same at hers, and though Grindelwald has taken care to stop anyone getting out of his carefully constructed prison cell, he’s taken no such care to stop someone getting in.

Or something.

Graves presses a wad of torn cloth against his bleeding hand and double checks the sigils again. There’s a bitter tang to the air, a heaviness as ancient forces swell and stir in anticipation. The summoning circle is crude and the usual candles and herbs are missing, but it thrums with power all the same.

He breathes.

My soul for strength, my freedom for power. Look kindly on me in this life for I have forsaken the next. 

Even in his mind the words reverberate, a dissonant choir of whispered screams building in his ears. His mother’s warnings hover on the edge of his memory, but this isn’t the time to be cautious. This has gone long beyond the time to be cautious. The sigils gleam at his thoughts, the wet smear of blood deepening to the orange-red glow of fire. Graves holds his hand over the circle and opens his fist to allow three drops to fall.

“Ad attrahendum eos,” he says in a voice that burns his throat. “Ad constringendum, ad ligandum eos pariter et solvendum, et ad congregantum eos coram me.”

There is a blinding shriek as the flames explode outwards. Graves digs his heels into the floor and braces himself against them, gritting his teeth in pain as their icy fingers claw at his chest. He can’t feel them take his soul, but the desolate, gaping lack of it once it’s gone drives him to his knees. He huddles there, hunched over and gasping as the flames flare brilliant white and dissolve into wisps of brimstone smoke that curli and reshape themselves, formless red glinting gold and blue until it finally coalesces into a man.

No, not a man. A demon. One bound to him and his bidding for as long as he lives - this is what Graves’ soul has bought. Perhaps, when he’s free and Grindelwald is little more than a smear in time, Graves will barter for his soul back. Horror stories are built and dark lords are made on the deals people make to win back their souls, but let’s be honest here: Graves didn’t go into this expecting life to be easy. He hauls himself to his feet, pushing aside the shards of agony shooting from the wailing cavity in his chest.

“My name is Percival Graves, son of the de Lucci line,” he says formally. “Do you obey?”

The demon blinks at him, wide eyes set in a freckled face. Graves is thrown for a second at how disarmingly… innocent the demon looks; it’s taken a male form, younger than Graves himself, with loose curls and a crooked tilt to its lips. He shakes himself out it; demons aren’t innocent, nor young - they’re ageless beings of spite and malice, fallen angels warped and made foul in hell. There’s nothing innocent about them.

“Um. Um? Oh! Hi.” The demon -

what the fuck.

The demon waves at him, shy smile and bashful dip to its head, the whole package. “I’m - no, not that, you can’t pronounce that. Call me… Newt. And I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Graves,” Graves says numbly, mind still scrambling to catch up. He shook himself, reaching for the clarity of mind needed to bargain with a demon - and the demon steps out the circle to shake his hand.

What the fuck.

“Nice to meet you,” Newt says politely, hand held out awkwardly. Graves stares at it. Somewhere in the back of his mind a small part of him is gibbering about the fact that demons aren’t supposed to be able to cross the circle, and that Graves isn’t supposed to be alive once the demon crosses the circle. Newt’s smile wavers and he retrieves his hand to stick it in a pocket instead.

“Did you get summoned here too?” he asks, doggedly pursuing conversation. “I hope it doesn’t take long. I’m supposed to feed the graphorns in a minute, they get grumpy if I’m late.”

“Graphorns,” Graves echoes. The ability to say more than one word at a time seems to have escaped him.

“Graphorns,” Newt repeats happily. “You probably won’t have seen any - the last pair died just a few months ago, poor things, they’re completely extinct now. But! I rescued them and they’re doing fine, they’ve really taken being undead. I think it’s going well.”

At the risk of becoming repetitive, what the fuck.

“No,” Graves, says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He uses the wrong hand and smears blood on his forehead which is just peachy and as his magic is still tied up in the damn iron manacles, he resorts to scrubbing it off with his sleeve. “Start again.”

“Um?” Newt tries, and Graves can’t tell if he’s being a shit or being honest and now he’s considering the idea that a demon looks that tiny bit cute when it scrunches its nose up in confusion and he really needs to stop this.

“You,” he says with a rude jab of his finger, “are a demon. I traded my soul for your servitude and you’re going to get me out of here and rain damnation on my enemies. Capisci?”

Newt’s face falls. “Oh,” he mumbles. “That sort of summoning.”

Graves is tempted to ask what other sort of summoning Newt was hoping for. In his experience, if you’re trading your soul for something then you’re looking for at least a little hellfire and revenge. People in need of a cup of sugar tended not to summon demons. He’s tempted to ask, but he doesn’t because god only knows what explanation Newt will come up with.

“Does it have to be damnation?” Newt asks plaintively. “Can’t we just… travel for a bit? I’m not allowed up top much. We could see a phoenix! We never get phoenix in hell, how awesome would it be to find a phoenix? Do they really set themselves on fire? Have you ever seen one - what if it’s raining, can they still set themselves on fire in the rain?”

“I traded my soul for damnation,” Graves tries desperately. Newt doesn’t miss a beat.

“I’ll trade it back if we go travelling and find a phoenix.”

What the frick kind of demon trades a soul for anything short of seventy seven other souls to replace it? Graves squints at Newt, but as far as he can tell the other man - demon, demon, damnit - genuinely wants to chase flaming pigeons around the world.

“What about your graphorns?” he says suspiciously. Newt shrugs him off.

“I can set up a portal to the enclosures and just nip home to feed them, it’s not a problem. Put it in something to take with us - do you have a puzzlebox? Friend of mine set his up in a puzzlebox. Or anything, a suitcase, even. Hide it in the suitcase.” He looks up hopefully, tilting his head with just the tiniest hint of a smile, and Graves has the awful suspicion that he’s being seduced into agreeing to something here. On the other hand… Newt is offering him his soul back, and he doesn’t have to kill anyone to get it. Just find a phoenix. How hard can it be?

“Deal?” Newt presses when Graves hesitates, and damn it (probably literally) - Graves agrees.

“Deal,” he says, holding his hand out to shake on it.

Newt shakes his head, looking so regretfully innocent about it that it has to be feigned. “Oh, no - demon deals are sealed with a kiss.” He steps forwards, hands already reaching for Graves and his smile morphing into a satisfied smirk as he closes the distance between them.

Graves knew Newt had ulterior motives.

Not that he particularly minds.

(Oh, and that bit about not having to kill anyone as part of this deal? Unfortunately not true. Newt, it turns out, is all in favour of wanton destruction when he learns about poachers. Illegal potions trade, that too. Hell, Graves had to talk fast to keep Newt from taking down the legal potions trade, nevermind the illegal stuff, and has to spend several years campaigning for better regulation and higher standards of care just to stop Newt setting the entire wizarding world on fire.

They don’t find a phoenix. Newt drags him all over the world and somehow they never find a phoenix. The ache where Graves’ soul used to be never quite goes away, but when he’s curled up against Newt, limbs tangled and sleep-heavy and his nose pressed into the crook of Newt’s neck - it doesn’t hurt so much, then.

They don’t find a phoenix, until a day when Graves is an old man. Newt isn’t - he’s aged his appearance to match and given himself shockingly white hair just because, but he dances around as sprightly and youthfully as he ever did. Graves on the other hand… He uses a cane, these days. He walks slowly, bent over, stopping to take a breath. His back is a constant pain, his knees - well. He’s an old man.

Newt has been quiet all day, and he won’t say where they’re going. It’s somewhere in Scotland, somewhere miserably cold and wet and the chill seeps into Graves’ bones like a physical wound. He’s more leaning on Newt than walking at this stage, but Newt still doesn’t say anything.

A castle looms out of the mist, tall and stately and all but shimmering with magic. The gates are guarded by a pair of winged boar and wards that fair hum with the power curled in their dormant runes. There’s a man by the gates, waiting for them, an old man - no. Old in the way that Newt is old, white haired but ageless underneath.

The man nods at them. With a pained grimace, Newt nods back. Graves opens his mouth to ask what’s going on, but - in a minute. His chest hurts, he needs to get his breath back first.

He doesn’t get the chance to ask though, because the pain in his chest isn’t going away. It spreads to his arm and fine, heart attack, he’s had one of these before but Newt’s there and he’ll just - he’ll just -

Newt isn’t crying, but there’s a terrifying emptiness to his face as he holds Graves. “I was selfish,” he says, flat and monotone and deliberately, awfully blank. “I won’t say I’m sorry because I’m not, but I was selfish.” 

Why, Graves wants to ask, but he doesn’t have the breath. There’s a ringing in his ears, black and white spots fading in and out of his vision -

The last thing he sees is the phoenix. It sits on Newt’s shoulder and presses itself against him like it knows him, and with that, with that Newt has found a phoenix and the deal is finally complete. Graves’ soul floods back into him like a rush of ice over a burn and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts because the pain on Newt’s face as Graves’ soul is torn from him is a thousand times worse than the lack of pain Graves feels as he dies.

When it’s done, the old man rests a hand on Newt’s shoulder. Newt is like a statue beneath his touch, cold and hard in a way he’d never been for Graves. But… he has no reason to feign humanity anymore. He stands, Graves’ empty body cradled bridle style in his arms, and walks away without a word. He fades with each step, his outline going thin and insubstantial until the last wisps of smoke drift away on the breeze.)

(In heaven, the newest arrival marches up to the Big Guy with his fluffy white wings flaring out behind him, and demands to know what he has to do to get himself put down as officially fallen and cast out to hell because did Newt ask before he gave Graves his soul back and got him a ticket up to harps and cloud land? Did he fuck.)

[viralhottopics]

Good luck getting out of your Facebook bubble now

Facebook has been criticized for the "filter bubble" effect; it's unclear if Mark Zuckerberg knows how to fix the problem.

Image: Christopher mineses/Mashable

Mark Zuckerberg used nearly 6,000 words to describe the future of Facebook Thursday, but you could sum it up in two: global domination.

Sure, Facebook’s CEO appears more “woke” than ever. He meditates on substantive issues like inclusivity, the eradication of disease, responsible artificial intelligence and the future of media.

And yet. In the simplest terms, his manifesto is about how the social network will continue to be a relevant online product as more of the world becomes connected. It explores how Facebook can become a key part of global “infrastructure,” to borrow a word Zuckerberg uses literally 24 times, that will make it an indispensable part of daily life for people across the planet.

SEE ALSO: Zuckerberg removed a line about monitoring private messages from his Facebook manifesto

Let’s be very clear about one thing: Facebook is not medicine. It is not a job that puts money in your pocket or a roof over your head. Nor is it the phone that connects you to your mom several states away, or the plane that takes you to her. It is an online platform where posts from estranged friends and family members are interrupted every so often by ads for “3 free soups”:

We’ll take the Trump takes with some delicious soup, please.

Image: Facebook

Facebook exists to grow and to make money. It treats expansion as a merit unto itself, as if there is some inherent quality to people being on Facebook that betters society.

Consider how Zuckerberg grapples in his manifesto with the idea of disturbing content.

“The guiding principles are that the Community Standards should reflect the cultural norms of our community, that each person should see as little objectionable content as possible, and each person should be able to share what they want while being told they cannot share something as little as possible,” he writes.

It’s the exact type of unprincipled thinking that has ruined Facebook in the past.

There’s a leap therethat someone seeing “objectionable content” is in effect a “bad” thing that should be avoided at all costs. You might think Zuckerberg is referring to extremely disturbing content, like child pornography or videos of suicide, content that no one would argue should be on Facebook but he is not. Rather, it calls to mind a report from November suggesting Facebook would be open to news censorship to break into the Chinese marketplace.

“Even within a given culture, we have different opinions on what we want to see and what is objectionable,” he writes. “I may be okay with more politically charged speech but not want to see anything sexually suggestive, while you may be okay with nudity but not want to see offensive speech.”

Zuckerberg doesn’t grapple in the manifesto with the idea that things that are disturbing could be important to see, perhaps because of the fact that they’re “objectionable.”

Furthermore, his idea about solving this “problem” should raise eyebrows. Emphasis ours:

The approach is to combine creating a large-scale democratic process to determine standards with AI to help enforce them.

The idea is to give everyone in the community options for how they would like to set the content policy for themselves. Where is your line on nudity? On violence? On graphic content? On profanity? What you decide will be your personal settings. We will periodically ask you these questions to increase participation and so you don’t need to dig around to find them. For those who don’t make a decision, the default will be whatever the majority of people in your region selected, like a referendum. Of course you will always be free to update your personal settings anytime.

Let’s put this another way: In Zuckerberg’s idealized, and likely upcoming, version of Facebook, the default option for what is “appropriate” in your News Feed will be determined by groupthink that is specific to your area. The manifesto isn’t overly specific, of course: Regions could be a town, city, country, continent or national park for all we know. The devil will be in the details of how this is rolled out.

But you can see the trouble already: Even as Zuckerberg concedes in his note that Facebook has a “filter bubble” problem, he outlines a system that delivers content according to a moral standard set by a majority of people. Godspeed if you find yourself in a minority of people interested in “politically charged speech” about abortion in Forsyth County, Georgia. Check those News Feed settings, folks!

This definitely isn’t going to pop anyone’s Facebook bubble.

It’s the exact type of unprincipled thinking that has ruined Facebook in the past. Rather than take a meaningful stance in favor of the free spread of information, Zuckerberg, as ever before, walks a middle course that serves Facebook’s aimsto be a happy place for all people, thus ensuring its user base can grow without provoking the ire of tyrants or censors. Individuals are not served by this thinking; they’re limited by it, because by default, they won’t engage with news or content that unsettles.

And we get it: Facebook is a business, it can do whatever it wants, and of course its major incentive is to grow and be all things to all people. The concern comes when Zuckerberg intertwines these motives with something ideological, because Facebook has frequently been a threatening force in the world.

SEE ALSO: 2016: The year Facebook became the bad guy

Remember when it allowed hoaxes and propaganda to spread uninhibited in the lead-up to the election of Donald Trump? When the company tried and failed to become a dominant internet service provider in India? When it removed a line from this very manifesto suggesting it could use AI to monitor private communications and profile people? Or when it allowed advertisers to discriminate on the basis of race?

And how does Zuckerberg presume to know which approach will work best for everyone on this planet when 71 percent of his company’s senior leadership is white and 73 percent male?

read this passage a few times. this is an enormous weird claim about how.. people.. think? become themselves? the whole letter is like this! http://pic.twitter.com/vq7ml61eOg

John Herrman (@jwherrman) February 17, 2017

His solution is to steer clear of politics himself and and design technology solutions that make the hard choices for his company. Yet again Zuckerberg is deluding himself by asserting that refusing to fully own a position means he isn’t taking one.

“In times like these, the most important thing we at Facebook can do is develop the social infrastructure to give people the power to build a global community that works for all of us,” the CEO writes.

Or, as he put it a bit more specifically to Recode‘s Kara Swisher: “Our approach is to try to get community to do it and I would rather that it come from community rather than us”

That’s nice in a sensethe manifesto also includes a rather heart-swelling passage about Zuckerberg wanting Facebook to better empower administrators of the network’s groups, thereby creating “meaningful” interactions even outside of cyberspacebut this is just a remix of the same old song.

Just as Facebook has refused to take responsibility as a media company when things go wrong with the editorial content it serves, Facebook will be able to shrug it off when its “social infrastructure” is used for prejudice or violence. Don’t forget that this is the same company that, as recently as October, couldn’t stop its new “Marketplace” feature from being overrun with illegal weapons, drugs and wildlife.

All this to say: It’s nice that one of the most important companies on this entire planet has a CEO who’s apparently done a little bit of soul-searching as the world cascades into hellfire, but Facebook has failed to earn our trust as consumers of its product. The problem is that it doesn’t need it. Facebook will continue to grow and morph and harvest our data, and so many of us are a little too over-invested in the social network to log off or demand something better.

There’s no question that Facebook has already changed the world, perhaps irrevocably. It’s the product that conditioned us to share photographs, videos and “status updates” from our personal lives online without hesitation. It has used the mass data created by its 1.86 billion users for astounding projects. The ability for A.I. to recognize and describe elements of photographs to the blind, is a striking example, but Facebook’s automated “Trending” news feature, which has been tweaked to better understand how we all consume media, is also substantial.

We’ll no doubt continue to see amazing things as Facebook and its technology mature. But don’t be shocked if (when) Zuckerberg’s 6,000-word idealism coalesces into something a bit less pretty.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2lTz3l9

from Good luck getting out of your Facebook bubble now