#even if it’s only by luck

[pathfinderofandromeda]

jerin in the glass trap instead of jamie and kate…

this prompt is undeniably evil, but i might have enjoyed writing it?

they're going through the absolute most, except i can promise that within ten minutes, jamie throws du’met off the roof, and he doesn’t get up this time :)

i hope you'll forgive me...and my embellishment of the amount of time they have before du'met comes back.

you can check out my other work on AO3...username: skyllianspectre

(trigger warning for the DIM glass trap and all that entails, as well as heavy angst and asthma/panic attacks)

Despite Jamie’s best efforts to avoid it, they end up getting separated.

It’s difficult to keep an eye out for moving walls while running, as it turns out, and now they’re here, in this fucking trap, and Jamie swears she’s gonna kill that son of a bitch.

“Try to stay calm.” She tells Erin, but then the wall starts moving. 

She tries to break the glass on her own with no success, then tries the screwdriver.

It’s a useless pursuit, and that’s when she sees the button.

The reverse symbol above makes the function obvious, and Du’Met must really be crazy if he thinks she’d even consider hurting Erin, let alone go through with it.

She’s already carrying the weight of Charlie’s apparent death on her shoulders, whether she could’ve done anything more or not, and she won’t - no, can’t - carry another.

Especially not her.

Fuck that button.

She won’t even stand near it.

“J - Jamie?” Erin asks, incredibly fearful. “What is that for?”

“Some shit I’m not doing.” Jamie answers resolutely, shaking her head.

She knows she can stand here and scheme for as much time as they have, but it’s pretty clear that they’re not going to think their way out of this. 

Somebody is dying here, and Erin seems to have realized that it’s not going to be her.

“Jamie. No. You can’t.” 

“This is exactly what he wants.” Jamie says, ignoring her implication and trying to keep it together. “You know I won’t hurt you. You’re not changing my mind.”

Erin can’t even look at her.

Her crying is uncontrollable, and she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Even if Jamie lets her live, who’s to say she’ll make it?

She’s done nothing but hinder the crew, and she can’t fathom the idea of going on without her, especially if she feels responsible.

“The others...they need you.” She insists, and Jamie looks almost offended.

Erin isn’t a burden, and the fact that she thinks she is is nauseating.

“Listen. Please.” Jamie pleads, voice trailing off into nothing, and Erin is completely devastated by the sound. “This isn't your fault. Understand?” 

Erin sputters to say something, anything, but it won’t come out.

The sight makes Jamie pause for a second, then completely break. 

“I love you.” She admits, glass closing in, and Erin looks at her like she’s committed a crime. “Just...don’t watch, okay?” 

She turns away as told, knowing from the way Jamie’s said it that it’s sacred, and now it’s going to haunt her.

Jamie loves her too, and the sound of her scream is deafening.

---

It’s the longest collection of seconds in Erin’s life before she hears glass shattering, a thud, and then, unbelievably, Jamie’s voice.

“Erin.”

It’s hoarse and shaky, but when Erin forces herself to turn back around, expecting some sort of auditory hallucination, she finds it undeniably real.

Jamie is on the floor a few feet away, talking, and breathing and alive.

She drops to her side almost immediately and helps her sit up, backing against the wall, but when she opens her mouth to speak, there’s no air left in her lungs.

“Hey...Hey, your inhaler.” Jamie murmurs, tapping Erin’s hand lightly, and she appreciates the reminder even though she’s sure Jamie’s gone mad.

There’s no way in hell she should be doing the care-taking right now, but it’s her, so of course she is.

Erin fishes into her pocket with shaky hands and sits next to her, taking a puff and exhaling painfully with the sound of “I love you” bouncing around her head like a pinball.

She gasps her way through several breathing cycles, Jamie’s hand sitting atop hers, and finally, mercifully, there’s some sense of control.

“Okay?” Jamie asks, only realizing how stupid it sounds once she’s said it, and Erin could almost laugh.

Jamie has no idea how good she is.

“You’re insane.” Erin responds, and then she’s kissing Jamie hard.

It’s messy and more than a little desperate, but Jamie only lets herself kiss back for a moment before breaking it. 

They’re both incredibly vulnerable, tears still streaming down Erin’s face, and Jamie isn’t about to take advantage.

Instead, she pulls Erin into her arms, letting her bury her face in her neck while she rubs at the small of her back.

There’s some comfort in the way their heartbeats synchronize, but it doesn’t last for long.

Du’Met’s gonna be pissed, and Jamie’s brain is already trying to figure out what’s next to protect them.

No time to process.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Erin eventually whispers between sobs, starting to quiet down just a little, and Jamie has no idea what to say so she jokes.

“I mean it worked out - ”

Erin squeezes her tightly to cut her off. “Jamie...I thought...”

“I know.” She replies, a jagged breath ripping through her entire body with the weight of it all. “Me too.”

---

After what feels like an eternity, the door in front of Kate creaks open.

Her heart drops in her chest when neither of them appear, and upon stepping closer, she hears crying.

It’s Erin, and Kate's thoughts start to race.

Jamie.

Shit.

Her hand flies to the amethyst crystal in her pocket, taking a deep breath as her stomach twists violently.

They need to keep going, but she can barely steel herself for what she’s about to see.

Upon entering the room however, there is no massacre.

Kate finds them both sitting against the wall, seemingly un-injured, and her relief is palpable.

Jamie acknowledges Kate with her eyes, holding Erin close and repeating something inaudible to her under her breath, and Kate can’t help but feel like she’s intruding on them.

She stares for a long second, unable to speak, and then she hears Jamie tell Erin that she’s here.

Her voice is completely wrecked, and it makes a cold, horrible feeling seep through Kate’s bones.

Something terrible happened here.

“Are you guys okay?” She finally manages to get out, and Jamie nods slowly, looking unsure.

“Yeah...yes...we are.”

The way it hangs is uncomfortable and Kate tries her best to focus. “He’s not far. We should - ”

“Yeah.” Jamie agrees, urging Erin gently that they need to go, and only then does Erin move, separating herself.

Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and it makes Kate’s heart ache.

“Let me help.” Kate offers, holding her hand out to Jamie, and she takes it to get to her feet.

She’s clearly trying to reset, to put this away to worry about later, and Kate has no idea how she does it.

She turns back and grabs her screwdriver from the floor, then reaches for Erin.

“C’mere.” She breathes, and Erin does, taking her hand and standing up beside her, a bit wobbly. 

Kate glances between them, but then there’s shuffling in the hallway.

God damn it.

“Come on.” She says anxiously, leading the way out of the room, and then Du’Met is there, staring them down.

“Stay close to me.” Jamie tells Erin, making sure she’s in front of her before they turn to run, and Erin clings to the words.

She’s not letting Jamie out of her sight.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[bet-on-me-13]

Trigons Backup Plan

So! Trigon knew from the moment his Daughter was taken in by the Monks of Azarath that it would be difficult to turn her to his will. He wasn't stupid, he knew just how hard it would be to make his daughter turn on everything she has ever known in her (very short) life.

He can't really blame her, even he believed that indiscriminate mass murder was wrong until his mid-200's, he just needs to wait for her to grow out of it.

But until then he still needs a way into the DC Universe. And if his daughter wouldn't help, then he could always just make a 2nd one.

So, he searches and eventually finds a Couple of Scientists who seem to be good targets. They are researching Magic and Ghosts, so he makes a Demonic Pact with them. He will give them the secrets needed to complete their Research, and in exchange all he asks is that they help him bare a child.

They agree, and Danny Fenton is born.

Danny was supposed to become a Hellmouth when he turned 16, unlocking his Demonic Powers and opening the way for Trigon to enter the DC Universe so he could conquer it.

Instead he managed to get himself killed at 14. Then he managed to come back to life as a Halfa, he got himself adopted by Clockwork, and he usurped the Throne of the Infinite Realms in the span of 1 year, therefore putting himself on the same level as his Father on the cosmic scale.

So there goes his Backup Plan.

Dammit.

...

Meanwhile Raven is panicking. She had been messing around with her Friends when they asked about the Spells she could do, and she off-handedly mentioned that she could cast Family Tracking Spells.

One thing led to another, and they all wanted to know if they had secret family. Then they asked if she wanted to try as well, and for some reason she agreed.

And long story short, she has a little brother somehow. A little brother who is only a few weeks away from turning 16, who doesn't know the Azarathian Spells she learned to prevent his own transformation into a Hellmouth.

Oh shit...

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[mvalentine]

[the-apocalypse-is-upon-us]

are you guys seeing this shit

[diamonds-at-y11]

Mel was really having the worst time of her entire life this season. Almost dies. Watches her friend die and is then promptly kidnapped. Well at least she gets to reunite with her brother— WRONG. Finds out she’s a child of an affair. Whatever’s going on with her and LeBlanc. Has to come to terms with having magical mage powers suddenly. Finally returns from magical backrooms. The world is on fire. Boyfriend’s lab partner has ascended to godhood and is now taking over the world. Boyfriend yells at you for manipulating him. You have to kill your mother because she teamed up with magic Jesus. Boyfriend sacrifices himself and lives in the cosmos for the rest of eternity with his lab partner. At least she got cool powers ig.

[laeana]

In this weekend, Lando highlights again why more people have started to dislike him, and not only because it’s a popular thing.

See, there were still a lot of laps after the red flag, there has been other incidents after it as well, there were opportunities to catch up. But he didn’t. It didn’t have to do only with strategy, Lando drove badly today. If we compare it to Max’s drive, Lando did mistakes, went off track, got himself overtaken again and didn’t have the pace.

So after that, you can accept your loss in this weekend gracefully, or act like a brat about it. For example, discrediting the three drivers that climbed on the podium, including your rival in the championship, that never spoke against you despite your first win being gifted through a convenient safety car.

You can say there was luck with it, but in this race and especially in that situation, you create your own luck. Max, Pierre and Esteban bet on a red flag, and got it right. If the others wanted to benefit from it as well, they had to take the risk of counting on it.

Let’s also not forget that other than luck, Max started freaking P17. Esteban and Pierre weren’t P2 and P3 right away either. They had to overtake drivers, survive with their tyres, and keep a good pace without being caught up by other cars. If they truly had only luck, and no talent, the podium probably wouldn’t have been what it was today.

It’s normal to be frustrated after a race that didn’t go the way you hoped, but being a sore loser to the point of discrediting others, is what makes someone dislikable.

I used to be okay with Lando, but the more time pass, the more I found his declarations insensitive, immature and even rude. He’s supposed to be a driver advocating for mental health, but when it was about George and Lewis suffering from heat after a Grand Prix, he was dismissive of it and tried to bring the conversation back to himself.

That kind of behavior, with the constant lack of respect for other f1 drivers, is what made me lose respect in turn for Lando, and no longer wanting to support him. And I know I’m not the only one feeling that way toward him.

[sincerely-sofie]

What if the lamb and narinder swapped places?

BEHOLD: Narilamb but make it vaguely Wind Waker / Ponyo and even more tragic.

[smile-files]

if clover did survive ii17 via her luck she'd definitely kill herself

[jaytalking]

Conan's batshit thought process + Shinichi Nii-chan and the boys pondering the most gruesome crushed tomato looking crime scene ever. You know. Just another day in Beika ✌️

[phoenixtakaramono]

(Illustration drawn in 2022)

The Boys S4 Sneak Peek (2024)

*surprised Pikachu face*

[yi3248]

"let's show the captain how much we've missed him"

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

Moon 16

Pt 2

Moon 16 p1 | Moon 17

[optogeneticist-nsfw]

thanks @thrumbo for the beautiful recontextualization above and for sharing my brainworms

link to full image set

[dontperceivemeplsandthnx]

No but Tommy being like y’all are CURSED and it weirds me out a little cuz so much bad stuff happens to you and then Denny gets pinned by a car while trick-or-treating 2 hrs later like CAN YOU BLAME THE MAN FOR BEING WEIRDED OUT