#god that art wing was KILLING me I had every other wing either finished or nearly there when they added it

[meteortrails]

ACNH MUSEUM FINISHED!!!! ALL FOUR WINGS COMPLETED!!!!!!! screaming and yelling and crying I’ve literally spent so much time and effort on this. from the mystery island terraforming for the beetles to the endless manila clam collecting for the fish bait for the golden trout to the literal irl days of repetitive time traveling to get all the art from redds boat. it’s finished!!! the work is not yet over I’ve still gotta finish flower breeding, then organize them in some appropriately cute way that will still show off my obsessive passion, then fix up the rest of my island and actually decorate it with my hoard of collected furniture items, but for now. my goal has been reached :) I’m genuinely like stupid proud of this honestly I can’t believe I actually did it

[strobbylemonade]

accompanying progress photos

edit: here's the sinner quotes in case the vfx are too strong. and you're not bothered to scroll to every half second. btw i kept all the spellings of names from the translations i used to prevent confusion. but it is still pretty confusing.

yi sang (the end poem of The Wings): I stopped my pace and wanted to shout. Wings, spread out again! Fly. Fly. Let me fly once more. Let me fly just once more

faust (god talks to mephistopheles about faust): He drives his spirit outwards, far, / Half-conscious of its maddened dart: / From Heaven demands the brightest star, / And from the Earth, Joy’s highest art / And all the near and all the far, / [But] Fails to release his throbbing heart.

don quixote (idk the context i stole it off of goodreads ngl): When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!

ryoshu (yoshihide, her inspiration, requested to watch a woman be burnt in a carriage so he could finish his portrait of hell. the emperor agrees to his request but burns his daughter instead): No longer did his eyes seem to mirror the image of his daughter's agonised death. His eyes seemed to delight beyond measure in the beautiful color of the flame and the form of the woman writing in her last infernal tortures.

meursault (at the end of the novel, before his execution, he realises the world doesn't care for him, and gains happiness through this realisation): As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.

hong lu (pao yu/baoyu/hong lu discovers his soulmate died on the day of his arranged marriage, and falls into such a suicidal depression that his soul slips into the spirit world): Utterly broken, Pao Yu sank back on his pillows. It became black as lacquer before his eyes, and his spirit became lost in the semidarkness of a distant dreamland.

heathcliff (i don't think i need to explain this one): Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you—haunt me then. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!

ishmael (don't need to explain this one either): Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.

rodya (sonia confronts rodion about his actions and he goes on a mad rant to her while trying to justify his actions, scaring sonia in the process. i thought this one was really good for rodya's "stagnation" in tkt): Did I murder the old woman? I murdered myself, not her! I crushed myself once for all, for ever…. But it was the devil that killed that old woman, not I. Enough, enough, Sonia, enough! Let me be!’ he cried in a sudden spasm of agony, ‘let me be!’

dante (another goodreads victim. appropriate for their job as manager): Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the lost people.

sinclair (he comes to terms with his childhood ending - demian has dealt with kromer's bullying, but sinclair feels forever changed by kromer introducing him to sin/crime): What had once been Franz Kromer was now embedded in me. And in this way the 'other world' was gaining power over me from outside.

outis (ulysses returns home to his wife penelope, who assumes he is dead. in their house, he pretends to be a stranger to her): So here inside your home, question me about anything you wish except my family or native land, in case you fill my heart with still more grief, as I remember them.

gregor (his final thoughts before his slow suicide by starvation. i included the family line for irony. the apple in his back was thrown at him by his father): The rotting apple in his back and the inflamed area around it already hardly troubled him. He thought of his family with tenderness and love.

virgillius (virgil's introduction in Inferno): I will be thy guide, / And lead thee hence through the eternal place, / Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations, / Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate, / Who cry out each one for the second death.

charon (this is from Aenid, a latin epic poem by Virgil, the poet who inspired virgil in Inferno): The sullen boatman admits sometimes these, sometimes those; while others to a great distance removed, he debars from the banks.

and a sigmund freud quote about ego: Driven by the id, confined by the superego, repulsed by reality.

also more details in order of when they appear:

angela is far paler in her pale librarian form than her lobcorp form (i SHOULD HAVE included her eye pattern in her lobcorp form but i didnt)

benjamin's broken heart at the first “give me your heart ringing like” which is covered by his tie. some symbolism for him putting aside his morals to work for ayin (speaking of i really wish i included more ayin and carmen in here)

my friend called the pose where angela puts out her hand to roland the 'angela ibuprofen' and i cant stop thinking about it (said friend’s friend then sent her this video)

the first ... --- ... has the dots cover roland's face to mimic his perception blocking mask. the dashes show up in the order angela cuts off his limbs at the start of lor

lobcorp yesod is looking at malkuth because her death is what pushed him over the edge to develop contamination paranoia. also i thought it was weird they mention he was covered head to toe but he wore a crewneck t-shirt and an open labcoat so i changed it to closed labcoat + turtleneck

lobcorp hod has enkephalin on her hands because she feels guilty for what happened to netzach, both his death and addiction

enoch is completely uninjured in the lobcorp flashback

this is just hard to see but the crib is on the left of roland's flashback where he's sitting on the couch

i'm really satisfied with the gebura to olivier transition. yipeee.

puppet angelica's heart is exposed although its pretty hard to see

binah/hokma's 'hearts' are references to their lobcorp breakdown form

i forgot to colour in leviathan vergillius' eyes orz

and when the end credits start rolling the text changes to the taglines of the games (e.g. it says 'song: Face the Fear, Build the Future')

SAVE THIS GAME MR. A

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 10

A/N: y’all ever think about that one empires episode of pearl’s where she helps sausage fight off a raid and that turns into a pvp battle between them, and she absolutely destroys him? yeah me too. also check out this awesome art by @amostfoolishgold​! anyway back to jimmy pov!

Warnings: injury, unconsciousness, fevers, talk of death, violence, corruption/infection, self-blame

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

The sun was nearing the horizon, casting the Overgrown in a golden glow. The castle was beginning to take shape, but they had unfortunately run low on materials, and Joel and Lizzie weren’t back from their gathering trip yet. So for the moment, they all just sat in the half-constructed shell of a castle, having light conversation as they waited for Joel and Lizzie to arrive. But soon enough, the conversation dwindled into an awkward silence. That is, until Gem stood up with a determined look in her eyes and a gentle smile.

“Why don’t we head to my empire for dinner? We’ve been working hard all day and could use a break!” she said brightly. Jimmy wasn’t sure how he felt about Gem quite yet, after everything that had happened- but she and Pearl had been a huge help. Meanwhile Shelby looked intrigued by the offer, and while Katherine first nervously glanced to the horizon, she looked back to Gem with a smile.

“That is very kind of you, Gem. I’d love to- we should probably just leave a note for Joel and Lizzie to let them know where we’ve gone,” Katherine said, standing up as well. Gem looked to Jimmy semi-nervously- and well, Jimmy was always a bit of a softie, wasn’t he? He smiled at Gem and stood up too.

“That does sound nice, thank you for inviting us,” Jimmy said. Gem beamed, and Pearl looked relieved as she stood up next to Gem.

“Well, you definitely won’t see me complaining about free food!” Shelby chimed in, hopping up to her feet. That caused the group to break into laughter, and the air between them felt comfortable again.

Once Katherine had written the note and put it where Lizzie and Joel could easily find it, the five of them (minus Pearl, who had wings) equipped their elytra and flew off to the Crystal Cliffs. When they first arrived there, everything seemed normal. The grand cliffs themselves, the buildings nestled in and around them, the towers- it was a beautiful and mystical place. But there was something blue, white, and gold that stood out in a heap on the ground near one of the buildings- a very familiar something blue, white and gold.

“Oh my god-” Gem started, landing on the ground beside the figure.

“Is that-” Pearl said, unable to finish the thought as she landed just behind Gem.

“Scott?” Jimmy finished, voice shaking as he came in for a bit of an unsteady landing a few feet away from where Scott laid on the ground, breathing shallow and upon a closer look, something red pulsing and spreading beneath his skin like some sort of vine. Jimmy barely registered Katherine and Shelby landing on either side of him, too focused on what was before him.

“This- this red stuff reminds me of the redstone spikes in Fwhip’s empire- or maybe something from the nether?” Gem pondered as she knelt beside Scott, a purple glow coming over her hand as she reached out towards the infection in his arm.

“I’ve seen that before,” Shelby said, voice sounding distant and laced with horror. Everyone turned to look at her, surprised to hear such a terrified tone of voice from the usually enthusiastic gnome.

“The infection?” Pearl asked.

“The corruption. I’ve seen it happen to my people back home, until it consumed them until there was nothing left- it’s why I came here, to try and find a cure or some way to stop it. But nothing worked,” Shelby explained shakily, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. Jimmy felt like he was going to cry too- and some awful part of himself thought that he should be glad that this happened to Scott, that it served him right after betraying Jimmy and breaking his heart- but he couldn’t. Despite everything Scott had done, despite never wanting to see Scott again- none of that meant that Jimmy didn’t want a world where the winged elf wasn’t in it. And what about what Pearl had said? Scott didn’t seem happy with Fwhip either, but now Jimmy would never know the truth. Not if it died with Scott.

Jimmy was so wrapped up in his conflicted mess of emotions that he didn’t even notice that someone else had flown in until Katherine let out a sharp gasp. He tore his gaze away from Scott to see what had caused that reaction from Katherine- and saw Fwhip. A mix of anger and terror boiled in his veins and swirled in his stomach at the sight of him. Fwhip looked baffled to see so many people in Gem’s empire, and plastered on a forced friendly smile. Jimmy’s hand found Katherine’s, and she squeezed it back tightly with no intention of letting go.

“Gem! Hi, so I wanted to smooth things over- I think we left things on a bad note-”

“What did you do to Scott,” Gem demanded, cutting off Fwhip as she stood up from beside Scott. Purple sparks danced in the air around her, and Jimmy swallowed nervously- he didn’t think he had ever seen Gem seem so intimidating before. Jimmy was relieved to see that Fwhip looked nervous too.

“Well, I haven’t seen Scott since our meeting, he seemed upset when he left- weird that he ended up here- y’know I was actually gonna go and talk to him after you-”

“If by talk, you mean do whatever you did to Scott to us?!” Pearl demanded, hand on the hilt of her sword as she took a step forward to stand beside Gem.

“I didn’t-”

“I’ve had enough of your lies, Fwhip. What. Did. You. Do,” Gem said evenly. Fwhip swallowed nervously, before sighing and finally giving in.

“Okay, so I may have set a few traps in his empire and got Sausage to help me with letting a raid infiltrate his village and the surrounding lands- but I figured Scott could handle a few traps and some mobs, it was only meant to be a warning, I never meant to kill him! He must have really gotten soft if he couldn’t deal with it,” Fwhip rambled. Gem and Pearl seemed semi-satisfied with his answer, but Pearl kept her hand on her sword and purple sparks still danced around Gem. But there was something that Fwhip said that bothered Jimmy, and along with what Pearl had said… guilt was beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What do you mean by that?” Jimmy asked tentatively. Fwhip let out a harsh laugh, turning to Jimmy incredulously.

“The idiot actually fell for you. He was just supposed to be a distraction, a contingency plan to make sure you wouldn’t be trouble. But he got in too deep, and look where that got him,” Fwhip scoffed, looking down at Scott’s deathly still form in disdain. Guilt was crashing on Jimmy in waves now. He had pushed Scott away. Scott had actually cared about him and he pushed him away. And then he had no one to go to for help when Fwhip decided to send a “warning” and got hurt as a result.

“You’re lucky I’m a pacifist,” Katherine spat, more angry than Jimmy had ever heard her. He wished he could have shared her anger, shouted at Fwhip too- but Jimmy just felt numb.

“Well unluckily for Fwhip, I don’t have that problem,” Pearl fumed, drawing her sword. Fwhip started to scramble back as Pearl leapt at him. His backwards stumble turned into a run, and Pearl kept pace with him just fine, using her wings if necessary and brandishing her sword to chase him away.

“Pearl can handle him- can you three help me get Scott to the apothecary? I’d do it by myself, but he’s tall and there’s the bulk of his wings to worry about too,” Gem asked, looking down at Scott worriedly.

“Erm- right, of course,” Jimmy said, letting go of Katherine’s hand to join Gem at Scott’s side.

“Hold on- go to the other side and help me turn him over,” Gem said. Jimmy did as she asked, and being mindful of his wings, the two of them gently rolled Scott over so he was on his back. Scott was feverish to the touch, and even unconscious his expression was contorted with pain.

“He’s hot,” Jimmy said, distant horror in his tone.

“Now isn’t the time for that, Jimmy,” Gem teased, trying to lessen the tension in the air. Jimmy’s face scrunched up in irritation as he half-heartedly glared at her.

“He has a fever, Gem,” Jimmy huffed. Gem laughed nervously.

“I know, I know, just trying to make this less terrible than it is,” Gem sighed. Jimmy gave her a weak smile, and together the two of them gently lifted Scott up. Jimmy ended up mostly holding Scott, while Gem supported his wings. Scott’s head lolled against his shoulder, labored breaths fanning his neck. Jimmy should have felt embarrassed or flustered, cradling Scott like this- but he was too concerned with how limp and unresponsive Scott felt in his arms.

“I’ll get the doors for you!” Shelby offered, quickly making her way over to the apothecary door. Katherine hovered around Jimmy and Gem semi-anxiously, making sure that they had a good hold on Scott as they made their way over to the apothecary. But all went well, and they were able to safely transport Scott into one of the apothecary beds. He had begun to shiver and tremble every so often now, and Jimmy could have sworn the corruption had spread, reaching his fingertips.

“There’s gotta be a way to stop that, or at least slow it down,” Gem murmured in thought, pulling up a chair to sit at Scott’s side. She reached out to the cut where the corruption on Scott’s arm stemmed from, hand glowing purple again. She closed her hand over it, and her eyes began to glow the same purple as her hand. But then the glow flickered, turning red for a moment before it dissipated entirely and Gem drew her hand back with a yelp, stumbling backwards out of her seat beside Scott’s bed. Jimmy scrambled over to help her up, eyes darting nervously between her and Scott.

“Is everything alright? I chased Fwhip off, but I swear if he’s done something in here…” Pearl trailed off as she walked into the apothecary, eyes zeroing on Gem as she rubbed at her temples.

“I’m fine. The corruption- it fought back. It’s… alive, somehow,” Gem said with morbid curiosity in her tone.

“It’s a type of fungus. That’s as much as my people could figure out before I came here to try and find a cure. The red stuff is everywhere in my old home- even if you tried to get rid of it, it would just come back. And in the cases where it latched onto a person… there was no getting it out,” Shelby explained, sounding like she was going to cry. Gem hummed thoughtfully.

“Did you try any sort of magic with it?” she asked.

“No, my people were not magic-users- in fact I’d hardly seen magic before I came here, where the air seems charged with the stuff,” Shelby replied, gesturing around her. A determined expression came over Gem’s face.

“Then I’m not gonna stop trying. I don’t know if I can fully fight off the corruption, but I definitely think I can slow its spread. In the meantime, we’re gonna need to get Scott’s fever down- at this rate, that’ll kill him before the corruption will,” Gem said, resting the back of her hand on Scott’s forehead and frowning.

“He’s probably a little beat-up too- Fwhip did say he trapped his empire,” Katherine added. Gem nodded in agreement.

“We’ll need cool water and cloth to make a compress for his forehead- and I should have some healing potions around here- it couldn’t hurt to brew some more though too, just in case,” Gem rambled, starting to stand up before Pearl put up a hand.

“You two stay here with Scott, I know where you keep things around here. Katherine, Shelby and I can worry about getting things for you,” she soothed. Jimmy tilted his head in confusion.

“Wait, I can help get things too…” Jimmy trailed off uncertainly.

“You can help if you want. I just figured you’d wanna stick by Scott,” Pearl shrugged with a gentle smile. Jimmy flushed slightly as he looked down at the floor, away from Pearl’s knowing stare.

“I… yeah. I’ll stick by Scott,” he said softly, gaze shifting to look at the winged elf who always managed to make his emotions into a muddled mess. Scott was an enemy, a friend, a- a something, then an enemy again- but whatever Scott was to Jimmy now, he knew one thing: he wasn’t letting Scott out of his sight again. Doing so the last time caused this to happen. He had to be there if- no, when Scott woke up. He had to apologize for pushing him away, and hope that maybe Scott still cared about him after everything that had happened to accept it.

-

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[writingblock101]

Growing Pains (Damian x Reader)

This is the first time I’ve written Damian! I hope y’all like it. In this fic, he’s 17. I found the picture on Google so I’m not sure who the original artists it (it was reposted from Pinterest and the artist wasn’t listed), but know that the art is not mine! 

Request for @idkmanicantenglish​ (thanks for your patience!):  Reader and Damian got in a fight while they were out in patrol, and when they go back to the Bat Cave, Damian ignores her and she goes to sleep in the guests room and later into the night Damian decides to go apologize because she was just trying to help him and he got mad for no reason

Words: 1,800

“I had it handled,” Robin growls, resheathing his katana. 

“Yeah, that looked handled,” You remark sarcastically, putting your knives away.  

“I was fine, I didn’t need a savior,” He storms past you. 

You roll your eyes but follow Robin. 

“It’s not that deep. I was just helping.” 

He whips around to glare at you. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t need help.” 

“You know a thank you wouldn’t kill you!” 

“I can handle myself! I didn’t need your help!” Then Robin grapples to the next rooftop. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Nightwing asks in your ear. 

You groan. 

“You have no idea.” 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He offers. 

“Where are you?” 

“On top of Gotham City Bank. Come tell me about your boy problems,” Nightwing snickers. 

You roll your eyes, but shoot your grappling hook and head to Gotham City Bank to rant to Nightwing. 

“Hey, Falcon,” He greets as you land gracefully on the roof. “What’s troubling you?”

“Your stupid brother,” You grumble, sitting down next to Nightwing. 

He chuckles. 

“Yeah, you’re not the first person.”

“He’s been so pissy on patrol lately. It’s annoying.” 

“What happened?” 

Your shoulders slump.

“Robin crashed one of Dent’s meetups, but there were more guns than he anticipated so I helped him out but of course, he’s all pissed because he thinks that I think he can’t handle himself or something!” You cross your arms. “I know he’s capable, but geez, even Batman has back up!” 

Nightwing hums along, nodding his head. You continue ranting. 

“He’s been so touchy lately! Like any time I back him up or join him in a fight, he gets pissed! And I’m fed up with it! I don’t get pissy when he helps me out! I don’t get it! This had never been an issue until a few weeks ago and I’m over it!” 

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Nightwing suggests but you scoft. 

“Come on, Wing. You know Robin. He’s more emotionally constipated than Batman. Talking it out isn’t exactly his strong suit.” 

“You’re right,” Nightwing agrees. “He’s stubborn with that kind of thing but you’re just going to have to corner him.” 

Your shoulders slump. 

“I know but I don’t want to.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s just going to end in a fight! Something is up and he won’t tell me… But I don't know why! I want to help him and be there for him but…” Your voice lowers as you slump in further on yourself. “He doesn’t trust me.” 

“Seriously, Falcon? Robin not trust you? You’re the first person he’s ever truly let in!” Nightwing insists. “Talk to him, it sounds like he needs someone to be there for him.” 

“Well, that’s not going to happen tonight,” You snap. “I’m still pissed. No matter what’s going on, taking out on me isn’t cool.” 

“That’s fair,” He shrugs. “Robin is stubborn like that. I don’t know anyone else like that,” He sighs dramatically. 

“Shut up, Wing!” You hear Red Hood’s distant voice yell, getting you to crack a smile. 

“And we’ve got a smile,” Nightwing grins. “Don’t let Robin ruin the rest of your patrol. Go beat up a mugger or something.” 

“Thanks for the advice, Wing,” You smile then dive off the roof, letting the wind catch your cap and allow you to glide onto the next roof. 

. . . 

Your night improved after talking to Dick, but as you get closer to the Cave, you begin dreading to see Damian. He’s been so snappy lately and you’re tired of it. Whatever his issue is, he needs to handle it like an adult and stop taking it out on you. 

As your feet touch the ground, you decide you’re not talking to him tonight. Any necessary conversation can happen in the morning. Once you finish your debrief of the night with Bruce, you’re about to head upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms when Damian catches your arm. 

“Can we talk?” He asks. 

You pull your arm away from him, wishing he’d never hit that growth spirit that made him taller than Jason. You feel tiny in comparison despite spending your free nights beating up criminals much bigger than you. 

“What?” You snap. 

He sighs. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

You raise your eyebrows. What an amazing detective. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that since you flipped your shit at me in the warehouse?” 

“I had the situation under control,” He growls. “I was angry that you didn’t seem to trust me enough to handle it.” 

“I trust you, I was just helping.” 

“It was unnecessary, I had it handled.” 

“Well, it certainly made it go faster.” 

“You didn’t pop in to help with speed,” Damian snaps. “I’m not some helpless child. I can handle myself!” 

“I never said you couldn’t. I was just being backup.”

“I didn’t need a savior.” 

“Stop trying to put words in my mouth,” You snap. “I was just helping.” 

“I didn’t need your help!” 

“You were getting overwhelmed!” 

“I had it handled!” 

“No, you didn’t!” You yell. “I don’t give a shit who you were trained by Damian! You’re not bulletproof! And if I hadn’t stepped in tonight, you would’ve gotten shot!” 

“I’ve had worse,” Damian sneers. 

“That’s not the fucking point!” You snap. “If you’re going to stand here and be pissed at me for having your back then fine! I’d rather you be mad at me than be dead. And if that makes me an idiot, so be it!”

“If I had gotten shot, it would’ve been my own damn fault and I would have dealt with it! I don’t need you to be watching my every move!” 

“Your arrogance is going to get you killed if you can’t even accept help from someone who’s supposed to watch your back,” You growl. “That’s what all of us do, we look out for each other.” 

“Yeah, look out for each other, not babysit,” Damian snaps. 

“Fuck this, I’m going to bed. I don’t know what your deal has been lately but I’m tired of being your punching bag! So, when you’re ready to own up to your shit, you know where to find me,” Then you storm off. 

You cannot believe Damian has the audacity to accuse you of being a babysitter! For a long time, he felt he had to prove himself which he hid under a thick layer of arrogance, but you thought he was passed that! Apparently, he’s back to needing to prove himself to God knows who and has decided he’s going to take out any frustration about his shortcomings on you. 

Not anymore. You’re tired of this. If Damian thinks he can continue speaking to you that way, he’s got another thing coming. 

After showering, you go to bed in a guest room, still fuming. Usually, you sleep in Damian’s room, but after your argument tonight, you don’t want to be near him. You spend thirty minutes tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable or take your mind off your boyfriend. 

Seriously, what is his deal? Damian’s never spoken to you like that! You two always had mutual respect for each other since you were always the two youngest in the room. The pressure of living up to your predecessors could fade when it was you two because you both understood each other, so why Damian decided you were now babysitting him--

The door opens. You flip over, your back to the door, knowing exactly who just walked into the room. 

“Y/N,” He says quietly.

“What do you want, Damian?” You snap, refusing to face him. 

“I want to apologize.” 

You sit up in bed and face him with a clenched jaw. 

“For what?” You demand. 

“For tonight,” Damian admits, looking at you for a moment then looking away. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” You growl. 

He sighs. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you and accusing you of not trusting me. You were just helping and you were right-- I was taking on too many men by myself.” 

You soften and pull back the covers, inviting Damian into bed. He crawls in bed, wrapping his arms around you. 

“What’s up with you, Dames?” You ask, leaning back against his chest. 

“What are you talking about?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“You know what I’m talking about. Why have you been so snappy on patrol lately?” 

He sighs, twirling a piece of your hair instead of answering for a moment. You wait, knowing he’ll answer you. Whatever is bothering him, Damian doesn’t want to admit. He’s ashamed, but he’ll get over his pride.  

“Grandfather called me.” 

You wince, unsure of the last time Damian spoke to his grandfather. You’re pretty sure it didn’t end well then either

“What did he say?” 

“He told me I’m wasting my time as a sidekick and that I could be a great ruler right now if I was not wasting my time with trivial matters.” 

You turn to face Damian, forcing him to look at you. 

“Damian, what you do is not trivial. You help people every night. You save lives. What you’re doing in Gotham is so much greater than anything you could be doing in the League of Assassins.”

“Doesn’t feel like that sometimes,” He mutters. “I get treated like a criminal here. At least there, I was respected.” 

“You were also murdering people,” You remind him.

“I know,” He goes silent, but you can tell something is still bothering him.

“Maybe you’ve outgrown Robin,” You suggest, resettling on his chest. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, everyone that has been Robin, after a certain point eventually became someone else of their own creation. Dick became Nightwing, Jason became Red Hood, Tim became Red Robin.” 

“Are you suggesting I quit as Robin?” 

You shrug. 

“I think you are starting to outgrow the role and need a new role to fill.” 

Damian is silent for a moment, mulling over your words. 

“Perhaps…” He agrees, resting his head on top of yours. “I don’t know what I would call myself.” 

“You don’t have to decide now, you have time. Talk to Bruce about it, maybe he has some suggestions, but for now, stop being rude on patrol.” 

He chuckles, hugging you tighter for a moment and kissing the top of your head. 

“Yes, Beloved.” 

“I love you, Damian. I don’t want anything to happen to you so it worries me when you brush stuff off by saying you’ve had worse.” 

“I know. I’m sorry, I just…” He trails off. 

You turn to look up at him, reaching up to stroke his face for a moment. 

“I know.” 

You get it. You and Damian have always understood each other in a way neither of you had ever experienced before meeting each other. It’s why you two worked as well as you did, even with both of your stubbornness and tough exteriors. 

He smiles fondly at you and kisses you. 

“I love you too,” Damian whispers back. 

This is the first time I’ve written for Damian so hopefully, I did okay! I’m not sure if Damian ever becomes someone else other than Batman, but it’s fanfiction. Keep an eye out for some future fics I’ve been working on! 

[tropical-gothic]

To the world

Angel/Demon AU headcanons for Yasha and Sasori

@multisasori Well, it’s technically a Good Omens AU. Take a guess on who’s the demon (who is just a little bit of a good person), and who’s the angel (who is just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing).

Special thanks to @thatshipcat for fueling these headcanons and for sharing quite a few that I’ve incorporated here.

1. Angel and Angel turned Demon

Sasori started out, like all demons, as an angel. That was, until he made one fateful trip down to earth to Babylon.

“I’ve received a notice about a tower outside building regulations—-“

Said tower may or may not have been the base of a handful of demons. The angel who came to inspect may or may not have liked the aesthetic—- Sasori thinks he would look more beautiful in black, even if his beauty was already beyond mortal comprehension.

“Where is Sasori?” Yasha had long since finished his own job, and ended up stumbling on a bunch of confused people who couldn’t seem to understand each other. “He’s never been late.”

“Yasha,” rang a voice in his head, with some static— likely calling from an underground source. “Can’t make it back today. I’m being indoctrinated into demon hood. I’m going to have such awesome black wings.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” Yasha said, brushing his own white wings. They looked awesome enough to him. “Okay, you stay safe.” The static stopped and Sasori’s voice disappeared. Yashamaru sighed. “Michael’s going to be pissed.”

2. The Aesthetic

So, there are good and bad things that come with the whole demon aesthetic, Sasori realized.

Yes, black looked absolutely wonderful in him. He was drop dead gorgeous and people have even more languages now to tell him how beautiful he was. Except that he wasn’t a fan of the whole… snake skin issue. That was Orochimaru’s thing and somehow that becomes everyone’s thing as well (at least in “Akatsuki”— which Sasori also found a cool name for demons).

But it definitely wasn’t Sasori’s thing. He complained to Yasha about it often enough— even carved himself his own set of wooden clogs. Better the clogs than snake skin— /oh, okay, all shoes become snake skin when I wear it. Perfect./

Another thing Sasori liked about being a demon was the black wings that came with the indoctrination. It was his color, after all, and it made him feel larger than life— even if the wing size didn’t actually change.

Except that demons didn’t quite groom their wings the way angels did and Sasori did not take to change very well. So he still kicks down the door of whatever mortal space Yasha is occupying on earth and insist that he help Sasori comb the spots he can’t reach.

Which Yasha does, with a certain gentleness that Sasori will never admit to liking.

3. The Black Plague and the Renaissance

Somewhere during the Middle Ages, Sasori was convinced that Yashamaru was an angel of death (the last heavenly meeting he was in, they were discussing this— though no one was assigned the part… as far as Sasori could recall). Either that or he was just a strangely morbid angel.

See, the guy always hovered very close to death. Be it a war or this century’s plague that’s ravaging Europe. Not that Yasha would admit to it—- he insisted that it was because this was where people needed the “comfort of God’s love” the most. (That may be why Sasori has worked a few miracles here and there too— keep them alive long enough for them to become selfish bastards again.)

“You need to get out more,” Sasori said, poking at the bird beak of the angel’s protective suit. “Air this out so you don’t smell like death. We won’t be able to have dinner if you smell like that.” Yasha would pout— but he would miracle out of the fashion disaster and into better clothes.

Yashamaru, on the other hand, was convinced that Sasori has made it a project to influence every art movement on earth. He’s always there when the big ones happen— so Yasha knows that something will happen after the plague (that would be called the Renaissance, later on).

“Back when these black wings were still new, I used to create my own gods— and have humans create them as well. Give their offerings of gold and blood to these beautifully carved idols.”

Yasha doesn’t believe him, of course. Sasori likes to create things and finds things beautiful— in and of themselves, without the work of temptation weaved into them. Sasori wouldn’t listen, of course, so Yasha just gives a few words of encouragement every so often.

4. The Antichrist

Sasori’s biggest assignment to date was a delivery. A package of sorts, straight from hell. He was to deliver the Antichrist— the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness.

Straight forward job— get the parcel, dive around town in his new car (which matches his aesthetic and even has a name), switch it with someAn other pre-selected baby, perhaps get a tip for the fast delivery service. Well, it should have been a straightforward job. Except that Sasori took a peek a the baby.

And was, perhaps, a bit more taken by the tuft of red hair, the large green eyes, and the little arms that reached out to him, than he would like to admit.

In another part of the city, Yashamaru was predictably hovering near death once more. This time, it was the death of a mother— still young, with blonde hair, and two children waiting for her at home. There should have been a third child, but the baby has already been wheeled into the ICU, and then wheeled out looking even smaller and a lot more limp. The little one had been born too early.

Yashamaru hovered near death, and stood beside her husband— a tall and stern man who bore the heavy weight of grief. It was too early to think about the future--- if he thinks of a life without his wife, it might come true. They were both leaning against the wall by the glass window, waiting for the hemorrhaging to stop— for better or for worse, when—

“So, Yashamaru,” Sasori suddenly appeared, sticking his head through the window. “What sort of diapers do you think the Lord of Darkness would prefer?”

“I— what? Wait— Sasori, now is not the time. I’m in the middle of—— /oh, he’s so cute./“

“Right!”

For a moment, Sasori told Yashamaru about Hell’s plans to bring the Antichrist over and then eventually the end of the world. With some added gloating as Sasori was won’t to do. For a moment, Yashamaru considered what to do with the child— now that the babe was in front of him. Ethically speaking? Morally speaking? As an angel? He should have the answer to this, innately, but he doesn’t. If the Antichrist were to kill everyone—-

“Excuse me?”

For a moment, Yashamaru and Sasori forgot that there was another person standing close by.

“You’re not humans?” the human asked.

“Oh no! We’re absolutely—“

“Of course, we’re not,” Sasori shrugged. “He’s an angel, I’m a demon, and this is the antichrist.”

“Right…” Yashamaru refused to let go of his smile. Positive thoughts.

“You can do miracles,” Rasa said, pointing to labor and delivery room. “My wife. She needs to live. We’ve already lost the baby.”

Sasori leaned close to Yasha— “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m thinking that we’re imposing on a family undergoing the worst tragedy of their lives.”

“Worst tragedy so far—- but that’s a stupid thought. What I’m thinking is that— I take the dude’s soul back to home with me and the world gets to keep the lady.”

“Sasori! That’s deplorable!”

“He’s handsome!”

Yashamaru smacked Sasori on the side. “Focus! I don’t even know what we’re thinking about— I understand this is a great deal for this family. But the greater deal is the future of the whole world. And that’s dependent on him—“ he pointed at the little red haired baby, who was making little spit bubbles while they deliberated his fate.

“You’re right,” Sasori nodded his head. “We should adopt him.”

“What! No— “ Yasha said, more than a little taken aback. “I don’t think we’re ready for this responsibility. The finances alone— did we ever settle that diaper question? Wait! No, we can’t— we’re not allowed to intervene in human lives. Raising someone would count.”

Sasori paused. “How about indirectly?”

They both turned to the human who looked too confused to follow the conversation.

“What’s your name?” Sasori asked.

“Rasa.”

“Okay, Rasa. He can get your lady love back from the clutches of death—“

“Sasori—“

“Make it happen, Yasha. But in return, you have to take this little one.”

Rasa looked at the child. “The Antichrist?”

“Yep. And he also comes with two godfathers. If we are to prevent him from realizing his full powers which could annihilate all of us and cause the end times, then we need to be present in his life as well.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” Rasa said. Nevertheless, he took the child and cradled him. Rasa told himself that this was the child they had been waiting for— even if the circumstances weren’t as expected.

“So—“ Yasha turned to Sasori, “we’d be like godfathers, then!”

“Yasha, go save the girl.”

“Right!”

Bonus:

“You’re telling me,” Sasori said, rocking the antichrist to sleep (for his parents who were fast asleep and too tired to tend to the child). “That she thinks you’re her brother? I thought she was an only child.”

“I panicked!” Yasha said, placing the milk into a tiny cup. “She asked who I was and I couldn’t say I’m an angel… I gave her good childhood memories if that’s any consolation.”

Sasori sighed.

[antihero-writings]

Before It Kills You Too

(Cover art by _xstlyricax_ on Instagram!! I’ll put a link to her profile in a reblog!!)

Fandom: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)

Fic Summary: 

Hera goes for a drive after a fight with Zeus, and has some time to think. Her internal monologue and memories, using Blackpink's "Kill This Love" as a prompt. ||

Anger was a fire, it burned white hot and devastated the world around it. But then it faded...This was more than anger.

Character Focus: Hera

Notes: If you haven't listened to, and/or watched the music video for Blackpink's "Kill This Love" (I’ll put a link in a reblog!), I highly recommend you do so either before or after reading, as the fic is based on the lines, and a few of the visuals of it!

The cover art is based off of the visuals of 0:59-1:12 of the music video too!

 I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I'm not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

(I’ll put some more notes in a reblog!)

Chapter 1: I Owe It All to You

Hera kept glancing from the road to the speedometer, the dial sneaking steadily upwards: sixty miles an hour to seventy in seconds.

She leaned over and took a cigarette from the pack, putting it between the fingers of the hand on the steering wheel. She took out the lighter and clicked it open, lighting the end, then closed it again and set it back down in the cupholder while she breathed in.

Smoke never tasted so sweet as when she was angry with him.

Eighty, ninety.

“Good to see you again, Bunny!”

“It’s only been a few days!” She laughed, “And who’s Bunny?”

“You are!” Zeus took her hands and gave her eskimo nose kisses. “Who else?”

The golden girl smiled, big and bright—

—the kind of smile one can only give when the world itself is big and bright. When one lives in a realm of hope, where beings keep their secrets, and their promises, and no one lies, or steals, or cheats.

She breathed out, smoke billowing like her mouth was the gates to the Christian’s hell—(they say hell hath no fury right?).

Sometimes she wished she had Zeus’s power; that she could set the world on fire with a glance.

A hundred.

The world was nothing but streaks of light across her vision. Not trees, people, and buildings; not distinguishable as life or meaning, just lines of color as she flew by. Maybe things were better that way. She could dance in the in-between, reach up and grab the ribbons, twirl around with them in beautiful absurdity. Only absurdity was beautiful; truth and sanity were far too ugly.

“Bunny I—”

“Don’t ‘Bunny’ me!”

She took another long draft, letting the smoke’s medicine filling her lungs.

And out.

Breathe out, feel the negative emotions leaving your body, all the meditation gurus say.

What a load of bullshit that was.

For every soothing inhale there was always an exhale that felt like it was clawing its way out of her throat. For every sweet hello there was a bitter goodbye, full of curses at his back, in return. For every incredible high there was a unfathomable price. That was the rule to life; what goes up, must come down.

And she had risen too high, once upon a time.

The test of life had no answer, let alone a right one. Even the gods were slaves to fate, and emotion.

The tires screeched hellishly as she rounded corner.

Hera walked around the corner.

“It just—I feel like the world’s on fire when I’m with him! You know?”

The queen stopped. It was that nymph’s voice. The one who came by earlier.

“Ahh I’m so jealous! Tell me more! Tell me!”

“Well he just…I don’t know! When he kisses me the whole world just kind of…stops. You know? And when he listens…I feel like he’s actually listening.”

“Ugh, too sappy! Tell me the dirty stuff!”

“Oh stop! I’m not gonna tell you about our sex life!”

Hera rolled her eyes, beginning to walk away when—

“Well he is the king of the gods. You’re right; It’s better if I imagine.”

The queen froze.

“Eugh I don’t want you imagining me in bed with him!”

“No, I’m imagining me in bed with him!”

Hera couldn’t hear them anymore. Couldn’t see the world in front of her. She was staring at a space before her eyes only she could see; a space, a memory, where the world was wide and she and Zeus were the only beings in it.

That space was shattering piece by piece.

Her breath was shallow in her chest, her blood pumping her ears.

“Mama?” Ares’ little voice brought her back to the world. “Mama, you’re hurting me.”

She immediately let go of her son’s tiny hand. “I’m so sorry sweetheart!” She crouched down and took his hand in both of hers, this time with the most gentleness she could muster, and kissed his fingers. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…‘m okay.” He took his hand back and rubbed it.

He looked at her apprehensively.

“…Are you okay, mama? …Are you angry?”

She whizzed passed broken stop sign, catching her reflection in the rear view mirror; her hair in tattered locks like rags about her face, eyebrows permanently furrowed, lip permanently pursued, blue eyes dim and hollow, with nothing of the brightness they once contained; only a few lingering sparks of electricity in an abandoned power plant.

‘Okay’. ‘Angry’.

Such ugly words.

“I just…” the golden girl pushed her hair behind her ear sheepishly, her eyes bright, “I feel like the world’s on fire when I’m with him…you know?”

“Can’t say I do,” Aidoneus muttered softly.

She put her gently hand on his. “Don’t worry, I know you will one day.” She grinned.

And what made it better was that she really meant that.

He tried to smile back.

“So what’s that…like?” he asked softly.

“Well…when he kisses me the world kind of …stops. It feels like there’s nothing and no one in the universe but him and me. We can talk about anything. And when I talk it feels like he actually listens. He always makes me laugh. When I’m with him…it feels like nothing else matters…”

She hated that word: okay. It was too simple, too easy; one could always throw it out as an answer. It didn’t mean, I’m doing very well, or I’m doing poorly—(though it could mean either depending on the context). Okay was just, ‘fine’, ‘alright’. Okay could mean you were doing wonderfully, having a great day, and okay could mean you would rather be dead, and either way people would smile and say good! I’m okay too!. Okay was never truly satisfied, never fully living. Just existing. ‘Okay’ was a word for ghosts; for those who are neither dead nor really alive, neither sinners nor saints. Just floating through the world, caught in between.

She was always okay…and she was never okay.

She rolled down the window, cool air rushing in to the car and scooping up all the smoke, taking it out into the night, giving it to some other lonely Goddess who needed it.

“Ugh, this again? I thought we were done with this…Just leave it for now. You’ll feel better after lunch.”

And, anger, anger was a fire that blossomed like a rose high, and bright, and scorching for a while, eating everything it saw. Then it dwindled. Sometimes it could be lit again by a passing breeze, if the embers were still fresh enough. And sometimes that relight could touch a passerby leaf or bush, and from there desecrate forests and cities. But often, even then, once it had finished blazing it would wither and die. Anger burned white hot and violent at first, but eventually it would fade, and the world would be left to deal with everything it blackened in its wake.

She sometimes had a vague image of smashing Zeus’s head in, of him clutching his big ugly skull, golden trails of blood intermixing with his violet hair, draining down his cheeks. And there she was, holding the stem of glass, half of the vase, in her hand, the rest of it in pieces all over the floor before them. Sometimes. Sometimes it felt good to take out all that anger out on innocent paintings. Sometimes she had to destroy something, before it destroyed her.

“You’re acting crazy.” He had said.

Crazy, was she?

Crazy for believing visions in her head, which were always right in the past? Crazy for being angry? For kicking him out? No.

Crazy for staying with a being like him?

Yes. If she was crazy, that was why.

If I’m crazy, well, then…

She smirked, taking a long draft, and letting it out, grey wisps filling the air around her.

Thanks, baby, I owe it all to you.

She had a faint recollection of being sane once. Before him. He always made her crazy, be it when she was first fell in love with him, or when she rose in hate for him. But there was a time, when, before all this, she was a sweet, naïve little golden girl in the forest, with her sanity in tact, who loved animals, and taking care of broken things, her innocence still put together.

He thought he knew crazy. He hadn’t even scratched the surface.

But then that impulse would fade as quickly as it came, and she was left with guilt for even thinking that way. She’d never do that. She might burn his picture, but she wouldn’t actually hurt him…would she? She hoped it would never get that far.

No. That was anger. The boiling thing rising inside her that made her want to smash, and spit in, his face, and burn paintings, that was anger. Anger rose, vehemently, but in the end it dissolved.

This was more than just anger.

This, this feeling; this dull resounding ache at the back of her consciousness like an unending death knell; this thing that bored a hole in her stomach, making her feel constantly sick; this thing that hung as a weight in her chest; this thing wrapping around her, chaining her wings; this thing that stained her eyes with sleeplessness; this thing that broke into her mind and ransacked her thoughts, tainting all those happy memories, making them seem diluted with lies, and sickening to think of, and never, ever left her house—

This was heartbreak. Eternal, infernal, heartbreak.

She was on a long stretch of road now, out where nature still bloomed and she didn’t have to look at anyone’s faces or talk to anyone. The ribbons of light still outlining the air—(was it two hundred now? She’d lost track.).

Lucky me.

Everyone always told her she was lucky. Not everyone got to be the wife of the king of the gods. Just her. She was lucky she had a husband who was powerful. Who was rich. She was lucky she had a husband who adored her. Who doted on her. Who listened to her. Who she could talk to. Who made her laugh.

Not everyone had that. Some had husbands who were poor. Who were weak. Who didn’t love them, and whom they didn’t love. Husbands who didn’t dote on them, or give them so much as a wanton kiss. Who fixed a permanent scowl on their faces. Who they couldn’t talk to. Husbands who lied to them, and cheated on them.

She was lucky she didn’t have that.

Not everyone got to be queen.

Lucky her. So lucky he chose her. So lucky she got the crown. No one else.

No one but her.

So lucky she had that handsome face to wake up to every day.

(Every damn day)

So lucky could talk to him every day. So lucky could kiss him, and hug him, and make love to him.

(Sometimes she couldn’t even look at him.)

So lucky she had Zeus. That goofy, dumb, brave, arrogant king as her better half. So lucky she had a husband who was so sweet, and kind, and gentle, and funny, and patient, and forgiving. So lucky she didn’t have had a cheating, lying, conniving, backstabbing little weasel for a husband, who put that crown on his head, and walked into his office like he owned the world—!

And he was the one person who could say he did. Including her. Sometimes she couldn’t say a word against him.

He owned the world. Along with every fucking girl in it.

And he did fuck them.

After it all, what would he say?

We all lie, so what? Something like that.

So what.

Him; the illustrious king with his throne, and his lightning. Her; a jealous queen with a stolen crown.

The only one to blame was herself.

“I just feel like everyone’s lying, everyone’s—!” the golden girl cried, her hands over her eyes.

Someone took her arm, someone whose grasp was gentle.

He put his finger on her chin, tipping her gaze up to him.

“I’d never lie to you.” Zeus said, giving a gentle smile.

And what made it better was he meant it.

She returned the smile, placing her hand over his. “Nor I to you.”

That naïve little ray of sunlight darkened by his moon.

We’ve both lied, so what? That would surely be his excuse.

“You know what?! Why don’t we talk about you for a change?”

He’d said he was sorry before. He’d promised to be better.

And she believed him, then.

He’d spent enough time telling the truth that she believed he meant it when he apologized. When he made promises. When he spoke to her, she thought he meant the things he said.

I cheated on you, I’m sorry.

I lied to you, I’m sorry.

Now she questioned everything he had ever said. His apologies, his promises, his compliments, his kisses. Were those words so long ago just another lie? His promise to never lie to her, was that just the first lie of a thousand? As numerous as the hours they spent together. Did he ever intend to keep his words back then?

That was the unfortunate thing about lies; they could reside in even the most sincere of promises.

I’m sorry.

(I’m not sorry.)

Long ago she’d wanted him to apologize. She’d been more than desperate to hear those words falling from his lips.

Now she knew they meant nothing. They could, and usually would, be just another lie. And, even if he meant them, they wouldn’t fix this aching hole he’d left in her chest.

She remembered herself at her wedding; them, the picture of a perfect, royal couple, his violet a compliment to her gold. Both of them practically shimmering, wearing traditional wedding attire—(though impossibly embellished and adorned)—and those goofy, light-filled smiles. The whole pantheon applauding, smiling, wiping away tears at their back.

In other countries, at weddings, they said they’d be together in sickness and health, till death did them part.

Did this count as sickness? As death?

Didn’t he break that promise? Did her promises matter after he broke his? Was her faith and faithfulness worth nothing anymore?

She now imagined herself in a black dress, standing at the back of that ceremony with a bow, and an arrow made of adamant, laced with the venom from a certain many headed monster, its gleam reflected in darkened gaze. She breathed out as they spoke, and loosed that arrow, shooting that girl in the back. Olympus shouted in vain, as she watched all that gold flow out of her past self, those blue eyes fade to a cool grey, keeping her from making the biggest mistake of her life. And she’d look at Zeus’ horrified face and think

I’m sorry.

(I’m not sorry.)

That was surely better than this. Better than dying slowly, the blue in her eyes dimming day by day into lifeless grey still animated somehow, better than that gold leaking out of her with each forsaken sunrise she woke up next to him.

Would he be happy then? Without her? He could fuck around with whoever he wanted.

Would she be happier, dead, without all this?

There was no way she could have known, back then what their lives would become after a few millennia. How that god who held her hands and said he’d never lie to her, who hugged her and kissed her, and seemed so in love, could become dissatisfied. That lust would overtake him; he’d keep wanting more and more, gorging himself on it. She had no way of knowing that she wouldn’t be enough one day.

She was young, and innocent then, and didn’t know better.

She couldn’t forgive herself for that.

Something flashed gold in the headlights before her, and for a second her mind manifested before her; she saw that golden girl still, her own hair draining down the street like liquid, that white wedding attire—old, ragged, covered in burns—her own naïve eyes, still full of light and life, staring up at her, terror overtaking their innocent frames. And her own eyes boiled.

The sound of breaking glass was like a cooling rain upon a fire that had been left raging too long.

******

Zeus was doing important business work. Focus was imperative.

Someone knocked on the door. “Your majesty.”

He fumbled with the spinner he was playing with, dropping it on the floor, sitting upright. He folded his hands on the desk, clearing his throat, trying to look professional.

“Yes? If it’s Hermes wanting to install racing tracks in the sky again—”

“Uh, n-no,” the messenger poked her head in the door, looking nervous, “It’s… about your wife.”

He blinked, then sighed, leaning back in his chair. “…What’s does she want this time?”

“Um…” she swallowed, avoiding his gaze, “S-She’s been in a car accident.”

*****

Notes cont.: Do you guys have any ideas for what song I could use for Zeus for the next chapter? (I want the next chapter to be framed like this one--based around a song, but for him, and from his perspective.) Let's see...In the simplest terms, I'm looking for a song about someone who knows they've made mistakes and/or hurt someone, and wants to do better. It doesn't have to be kpop, it can be anything XD (Though to be honest I'd prefer if it wasn't American pop...)

[katsukiboom]

Chained Heart || Bakugou x OC

Hello everybody! I’m back with one of the pieces I’ve been working on - the person who commissioned me (who wished to remain anonymous) lended me their awesome OC which I had the pleasure to name. I hope you guys like it and remember that commissions are always open! <3

Ko-Fi || Commissions

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

“Another day, another good run.”

Chiaki Sato sat on her apartment’s balcony as she sipped on a peach juice box she had bought on the way home – of course, she’d tell her parents she’d stolen it along with the several other items she brought from a nearby 7-Eleven. Always making sure she went to different stores to avoid recognition from others, the teenager wondered just how much longer she’d have to go about trying to please people around her.

Of course, nothing in life comes without a little fun.

One of the few perks she could think about was staying out of the home for as long as she pleased, practicing her so-called arts on the tall walls of abandoned buildings or even playing pranks on unsuspecting citizens, such as misplacing grocery bags or sometimes going as far as to hide people’s bikes, all with the help of her chain-creating quirk. However, it always made her feel even just a little bit guilty regardless of the fact that no one ever got hurt because of her habits; it was the constant voice inside her head that told her that there would be a limit to all of that, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to get there at all. She took the weariness that came after the constant usage as a form of ‘punishment’, turning to an iron-based diet to supplement what she lost every day.

As the afternoon sun shone upon her and warmed her skin, Chiaki inhaled slowly and felt the tiredness taking hold of her body despite it being early. “Damn, I must’ve been up there a bit too long,” she whispered to herself with a smile as she reached to her back to caress one of the chain scars, “it was a damn good graffiti if I do say so myself.” Her day replayed like a movie reel as she got up and walked back inside and towards the kitchen, crushing and throwing away the already empty box. Only when she got to a certain point of her memories she stopped in her tracks, a smile breaking out on her face that could only mean it was a good day – she had almost seen him.

He was a teenager like her but on the opposite side of society’s spectrum. While she was trying to look and act like a villain, the blond guy was an apprentice under Best Jeanist’s wing and seemed to have an awful, almost haughty attitude towards anything that could remotely seem wrong or against the rules and laws based on what she’d seen.

It was either that, or the guy just acted like that about everything.

But Chiaki didn’t truly care, since she had taken it to heart to mess with him as much as possible without getting caught in the process and it was just the funniest thing to her; whenever she knew he was in the area, she’d get to the nearest store and shoplift the littlest thing she could find so that the hero in training would show up with his mentor only to see the item had already been either paid for anonymously or returned to its place. Even some of her graffiti was directed towards him. She was thankful that only she knew who those were talking about – she made sure to stick around long enough to see him appear on the scene, and his face of anger always got a laugh out of her.

The truth, however, was that she envied him just a bit; there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to just leave all that she knew behind and start over with a clear conscience, and most importantly, she wanted to know what it would be like to be on the other side of the page – on the heroes’ page. However, she kept those dreams to herself due to her own parents pressuring her to continue the family business, talking about what a great villain she’d be and how she’d succeed them eventually.

Letting out a short sigh, she warily made her way to her bedroom through the hallway of the rundown apartment they all called home.

-

It was early morning as she got out of bed, stretching her arms and legs as she sat up and glanced at the clock on her bedside table – it was already 9 am and the soft smell of coffee made its way inside the room through the slightly open door, making her stomach growl at the very thought of whatever breakfast was on the way. She quickly changed into her everyday clothes, went into the bathroom to brush her long brown hair into her signature ‘horned’ style, and then made her way to the kitchen; she could hear her parents chit chatting about things she most likely didn’t want to know, but Chiaki was sure they’d find a way to get her into it anyways.

“Well, look who’s already up!” her mother exclaimed as soon as she saw her. Aika Sato was a woman in her mid-forties that didn’t look a day over 30, but she always claimed it was all a product of her youthful mentality rather than something affecting her physical appearance. Sitting in front of her on the other side of the table was Daichi Sato, a stern-looking man that was responsible for the life of crime they were trying to live – he was the last member of a crime family older than heroic society itself so it only felt natural to him to continue now that there were even more resources to do so; her mother followed him along, her love stronger than any other thought or emotion. “Come darling,” Aika added, “I’ve prepared something nice for you to start the day off.”

“We’ve been talking,” said her father as Chiaki sat down between them, his eyes much softer than his voice. “And we think it’s time we introduce you to some of our friends that could teach you a thing or two; you will become so much stronger under their wing and will be able to go on your own to bigger missions as well.”

Chiaki’s eyes were glued on the small cup full of fresh raspberries that accompanied the usual rice and miso soup, along with the ginseng tea she used to take every day. “Oh, I�� I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled, reaching out to take a piece of fruit and putting it in her mouth. The sweet juice tasted good and she tried to focus on that.

“I know, it seems like such a big responsibility,” Aika replied as she put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder with a big smile on her face, “but we’re sure you’re ready for something important. After all, you’re a very talented young lady and the world should know that as well, don’t you think so?”

She could only nod as images of her among some of the most powerful villains known to date, torturing people or going even further than that, filled her mind which in turn filled her heart with fear – unsure of how to get out of that situation, she finished her food as fast as she could, grabbed her bag and then said her goodbyes while rushing out of the house with the excuse of having to go to the public library to research for school.

The outside air felt more refreshing than ever, but her emotions felt stronger and it became hard to control once she had walked far enough, a few tears escaping from the corners of her eyes as she walked to the blind alleyway in which she used to hide whenever she felt overwhelmed. With her face buried on her hands, she leaned against a wall and finally let it all out with muffled sobs, the weight of the situation making her feel confused as to which was the right way to take.

She cried for a few minutes until she finally got up and wiped her face with the sleeves of her jacket, not really caring about the way she may have looked after that; reaching into her bag, she pulled out one of the few paint cans she had left before looking up and making two chains appear from her shoulder blades. She maneuvered until they grabbed onto the top of one of the short buildings to the sides of the alley. Carefully, she climbed the wall until she was high enough to start painting when she heard it.

A short muffled scream in a high pitched voice made her turn around and look down, the sight in front of her completely making her freeze – a woman faced to the ground with a gun held to her head by a man with his face covered by a ski mask and who seemed to be even more nervous than her. Both entered the alleyway quickly. “Give me everything, goddammit,” he said with a hurried tone yet his voice was loud. Chiaki was only able to look from her place, but when the woman looked up she couldn’t help but think of her own mother in a similar situation. “Give me everything or I’ll kill you.”

It only took a second of losing her focus for her moral compass to take control and soon a third chain came out of her side, made its way towards the thief and wrapped itself around him tight enough to incapacitate him. “Run, get help!” she yelled at the woman, who looked at her with what seemed to be gratitude in her expression mixed with panic and then ran off the scene. The man looked up at her with rage in his eyes before he tried to run as well, but nothing seemed to be working against her quirk. She looked at the man, proud of herself for doing the right thing but wondering what would happen when help did come. “Try to point that gun at me, fucker.”

Soon enough she heard quick steps coming from the street and then an old cop appeared, followed closely by a pro-hero she didn’t recognize and… oh my god, she thought as soon as she saw explodo-boy. The three of them looked up as they witnessed the scene, and Chiaki made sure to slowly descend from her place on the wall – unable to even look at the blond teen directly, she kept her gaze glued to the ground as her chains vanished once she was close enough to it.

“What are you doing here, young girl?” the pro-hero asked her as he came closer. “You don’t look like a regular civilian with that outfit.”

For once, Chiaki actually felt self-conscious about her choice of wardrobe. “It’s… just my clothes, sir,” she replied shyly, cursing at the fact that her first good deed was actually going to be the one that got her in trouble. The blond was behind him, staring at her with the usual angry look; he looked intimidating but cute, she thought for a split second. “I usually come here when I need to be alone, and I couldn’t just stay back while someone got attacked.”

Both heroes seemed mad, but when the cop called for the oldest one the man quickly turned around and walked away, leaving the two teens by themselves. “Don’t think I don’t know what you were doing up there,” the blond spat out with an almost venomous tone, and she could tell he was frowning underneath the mask that covered half his face. “You were the one that left all those ridiculous graffiti all over the damn place. What is stopping me from going and telling the cops, huh?”

“I-I’m not looking for trouble…”

“You are trouble,” he cut her off, “and you’re about to get what you deserve. You’re just another villain in training and this was just a cover-up for your stupid actions, I just know it.”

Those words were the last thing she had expected to hear from him, but they still felt like knives stabbing her on the back. “You know nothing about me,” she replied, the bubble of anger threatening to explode inside her any moment now. “You had it easy from the beginning, no pressures from anyone. You had it easy being on the other side, the good side, but when people expect too much from you, you break. Do you know what it’s like to want to do the right thing knowing you’ll disappoint everyone around you?” He remained expressionless as she ranted on, and that only served to fuel her anger a lot more. “If you’re going to be a hero yet you don’t care about anything, then maybe you’re the one who’s on the wrong side of the fence.”

“Well, it seems like you don’t know shit about me either,” he said in a whisper, coming closer to her until her back hit the wall. Her feelings mixed with embarrassment as her gaze fixed on the floor and she could feel her face getting redder. “But why should I talk with a petty villain like you? You’re not even an ant on my way.”

“Because…” she struggled to look for words to emotions she had never exactly spoken about, as it never came easy. “Because I do want to know what it’s like.” Finally letting her guard down, Chiaki looked straight into his eyes with determination. “I don’t want to be this, yet it’s all my environment seems to look forward to. I… I don’t know how to tell them I don’t want to be a bad person. I have no one to talk about this with.” She waited and looked for any sign of comprehension in his gaze, though nothing was clear. “How was it so easy for you? How did you get to be training with some of the best heroes in the country?”

The boy took a few steps away and looked back at the pro-hero, who was now helping the cop get the thief away to his car. “Shit,” he muttered before turning back to her, and for the first time since she knew him, he looked distressed as he clenched his fists. “I don’t know why I’d give advice to a shithead like you,” he started as he turned back to her, his expression returning into his usual angry one but he still sounded unsure of his own words. “But if you want something, you, uh, you should just go for it. You probably won’t be more than another extra… but you can try. Maybe you could… go to some damn school and not listen to whoever’s telling you to be a shitty villain. You want to be better than that, which already makes you… stronger than them.”

It almost made her laugh just how much he was struggling with words, seeing that he had always seemed so assertive, but she didn’t get any chance to reply. “Young man,” the pro-hero said as he appeared behind the blond, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back just a little bit. “Go outside and wait for me; I’ll catch up in a minute.” Obeying not without letting out a little grunt he just turned around and walked towards the cop who was just now getting into his car, and Chiaki only looked at him with a goodbye stuck in her throat. “Now about you, missy,” the man said once they were alone. “We won’t say anything about you using your quirk without a permit since you helped us this time. However, you will have to turn your attitude around; we’ll be on the lookout for any suspicious activities and if we find out you were related to it, you won’t get out of it that easy.”

And with that he too walked away, leaving her with her thoughts for the first time in what had felt like hours. You want to be better than that, which already makes you stronger than them. The words the other teen had told her ran through her mind almost unconsciously, his voice loud and clear and soon becoming the only thing she heard. Chiaki looked up at the midday sun and with a smile appearing on her face, she picked up the half-empty paint spray can from the floor and threw it on one of the garbage cans around before walking out of the alley. Curious eyes from nearby stores were glued to her, but for the first time, she didn’t bother about it.

-

Holding onto the hems of her uniform jacket, the girl looked up at the huge main building of her new school while walking towards the steel gates and avoiding the other students gathered around her. Standing in front of the one thing that would help her achieve her dreams, it all felt beyond surreal. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she had gotten into the biggest hero school in Japan behind her parents’ back, and even though they had shunned her at first they had grown used to the idea of their daughter not following their steps; they never brought it up though and never asked how her things were going either, but she knew it would be hard for them to digest the news.

Her pace was calm but to her, it seemed like she was in a rush anyways, a small droplet of sweat rolling down her temple – despite it being the final days of summer, the day still felt way too warm yet she blamed it on the thick fabric of the clothes. Looking all around, she witnessed Eraserhead to the side of the door lazily greeting the arriving students and she smiled at the sight, but as their gazes met she instantly looked down, feeling her cheeks turn bright red.

Chiaki took a few more steps until she crashed onto somebody, making the person in front of her stumble back. “Oi, what’s your goddamn problem?” a familiar voice roared, and when she looked up she was met with angry red eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. She wouldn’t mistake him for anyone and was shocked that of all the people she could encounter on her very first day and in the very same school she was attending, it had to be him; it was like fate was playing tricks on her. “Watch where you’re going, you damn extra.”

“How long are you going to call everyone that, Bakubro?” the redhead that was with him let out a short laugh before turning to her – she was sure her cheeks were the same colour as his hair. She noticed they had the same eye colour and had to suppress the need to chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, he’s always like that…”

“I know,” she muttered without thinking, instantly regretting it.

“You know each other?”

The blond looked surprised but said nothing as he waited for her to speak. “I, uh… we… met last year though I don’t think he remembers,” she explained, “and he gave me advice on how to become a hero when I was in a bad place. It really helped me.” Both guys’ eyes opened wide at those words, the redhead wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulder with a big smile on his face.

“Ooh Bakugou, seems like I was right about you being a softie after all!”

“Shut up, Kirishima,” the blond – Bakugou said with a growl, pushing him off him and turning his attention back to her with his brow furrowed. “I remember you now; you tried your worst to be a villain and now you’re here. You followed me here so I could congratulate you or something?”

His tone was harsh, but the soft pink on his cheeks spoke way louder than his words. Finally letting out a laugh, she replied, “Not really, this is just my first day. I hadn’t been able to say thank you for the kind words though, they really helped.” The bell rang across campus just as she finished her sentence and she bowed to the two before turning around, making her way to the main doors, unaware of the pair of eyes that were glued to her back.

“You know,” Kirishima said with one eyebrow raised and a mischievous smile on his lips, catching Bakugou’s attention back from the unknown girl – she had such a sweet perfume, but he’d never admit that even if his life depended on it. “You could at least have asked for her name, Bakubro.”

[morris-magus-merry-miller]

Chapter 2: Goddess in the Glade

Our band of valiant adventurers set out that very same day on the road to Port Town. As we traveled, Candy and I compared notes, for it happened we had something in common—a love of the culinary arts. She traveled the land with a rickshaw, set up with implements for cooking, baking, and keeping her finished products heated or cooled. It’s quite the astounding set up, one I would love to copy if not for my small legs. I don’t think Nathaniel would appreciate being asked to lug around such a thing either. So alas it must remain but a dream, however while we venture together she has agreed to let me bake our group treats in the mornings while the others prepare their various morning spell rituals and such and such.

I was originally going to go with a classic—croissants—but then Candy and I discovered that Vigo had never had any sweets before. In his life! Ever! Can you imagine? I certainly cannot, even with my vast and boundless imagination, it boggles the mind! So Candy and I were in agreement that our first order of business had to be introducing Vigo to the many wondrous treats this world had to offer.

I consider myself to have quite the knack for cookies and cakes, while Candy makes quite an astounding pie. Between the two of us, I am certain we will round out Vigo’s experience with the many flavors of baked goods available.

On our second day of travel, John and I stopped for some…necessary relief, let’s say. The two of us made for an area deeper in the woods, to be certain we were out of sight of the road to avoid any embarrassing mishaps.

There we met the most fascinating and beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon in my many years of life. The two of us came upon a small woodland glade, a beautiful peaceful place where the sun filtered down through the trees upon a small stream. Before the river, the being was kneeled, drinking. As we accidentally stumbled upon her, she turned to face us.

She was humanoid, in a manner. Her upper body was much like a human woman, although quite a bit taller than most humans—taller, I think, than even Issac. She towered above myself and John. She had long black hair that flowed down her back, framed by two mis-matched horns—one that appeared to be a stag’s, and the other a rhino’s, but upon the side of her forehead like the stag horn. Upon her back were four wings, as mis-matched as her horns. A wasp’s, a butterfly’s, a whippoorwill’s, and a dove’s. Between them all sat a deadly looking scorpion’s tail. Her legs were not humanoid, but were more like that of a satyr. One was a goat’s, and the other a zebra’s.

The strange beauty greeted us, and introduced herself as Elpida. When she extended a hand to shake, it was a lioness’ paw, and her other hand was a hound’s. She was pleased that we were willing to stay and talk, rather than fleeing at her unique visage. For his part, John seemed about ten seconds away from asking her on a date. I was just content that she was willing to let me write this meeting, and even created an illusionary visage of herself standing in place so that I might sketch her—as you will see below.

Elpida was without a doubt the most fascinating creature I have ever laid eyes upon. She told us that each piece of her mis-matched visage was a gift from one of the major gods. The wings, from Calistria, Desna, Pharasma, and Sarenrae. A set of spider arms she could summon on command were from Norgerber. Her eyes, when she leaned forward enough for me to clearly see her features, had irises red and segmented like a fly’s, which were from Urgathoa. Her form was stuck as it was due to Zon’Kuthon, whose gift made it impossible for her to use any polymorph type magics that could change or disguise her striking figure into something less noticeable.

When I asked if she was some kind of goddess herself, she answered no—she was closer to a psychopomp. A rare and unique psychopomp who was not hidden from mortals as such beings normally are, and who had been granted miraculous powers from the various major deities of our world.

I think I can rightly say John and I stumbled upon the rarest of stories today. While we may never see her again, this meeting will be etched into my mind for the rest of my days. And I have written every detail with as much accuracy as I could muster while being quite stunned by this being’s very existence.

Author’s note: suck it, I got a description of a rare and powerful almost never before seen being and a first hand conversation with her, if that isn’t a grand part of a ‘most interesting story ever told’ I don’t know what is!

Note to self: Remove author’s note from final draft and do not taunt the devils you are trying to impress, you idiot.

 Elpida asked what brought us to these travels, and withdrew a tad when we mentioned Dualwood. It turned out she was familiar with the dragonfly man, whose name she revealed was Ulong, and she was aware of what he had done to the town. He had come to her first, once upon a time, asking if it was possible to do. She kept making excuses for him, that he has his reasons for why he’s doing what he did, but also said she found it understandable that we were angry if those John cared about where in that town.

She left us in a hurry, with well wishes and a magical gift—a blessing of her own design that would allow us to ‘strike true’ in a time of dire need. Then as quickly as we’d come face-to-face with the mystical, she was gone, vanished with some teleportation magic or another.

  We met with the others back on the road and told them of what had happened. They’d felt the effects of the blessing as well, so it seemed Elpida had extended it to them as well. None of the adventurers amongst us had seen or heard of such a being before, but we were glad to have stayed on her good side.

Thus we set off on the road once more in high spirits. The next day we were to arrive at Port Town fairly early. However just in time for a quick snack, we came upon a newly opened WcGronalds. We debated whether or not to go in, but upon discovering that Vigo had never had ice cream before Candy and I insisted that we go. After all, we lacked the means to make ice cream ourselves. We may well have missed our only opportunity to introduce Vigo to it, and that would have been a grave and unforgivable tragedy.

It was strangely dark within. When Vigo pushed open the door, four clown ghouls spotted us and rushed for the door, their disturbingly large shoes honking with each step. Vigo—wondrous wizard that he is—didn’t even flinch at the sight. He let loose an inferno that encompassed all of the undead horrors, reducing them to ash without so much as blinking. The mighty goblin stood victorious, and was rewarded for his efforts by the WcGronald’s employees, who had hidden themselves safely within the freezer. Vigo was given all the ice cream he could eat, and they let Candy take the entire ice cream machine so that we might make frozen treats on our travels. An excellent boon for a job well done, if I might say so myself!

 It wasn’t long afterwards that we reached the illustrious and bustling city of Port Town. Here we parted ways with dear Amelia, who said we could always reach her with the Stones of Farspeech if needed.

Vigo, despite his glorious display against both the zombies and the gibbering mouther previously, seemed rather offput by the crowded city streets. He stuck close to us, positively buried in Gordon’s wooly fur.

 Note to self: maybe edit that out if this ever gets published. If Vigo reads it you’re a dead man. You’ve seen his magic. He’ll kill you with fire. And lightning. Fire-lightning.

Note to self 2: Can Vigo read?

 We went looking for an inn to rent some rooms to use as our base of operations as we looked for Ringwald. While we were at it, John parted ways for a time. He said he already had a place and needed to check in. We agreed to let him know which inn we ended up holing up in over the very incredibly useful Stones of Farspeech.

Not long afterwards Vigo pointed us in the direction of a lovely inn he spotted.

 Note to self again: Obviously Vigo can read, he transcribes scrolls all the time, and he must have read the inn’s sign. That was a very rude assumption on my part, although it is true that many goblin tribes believe that writing can steal your soul so it isn’t a completely uncalled for assumption…

 We approached the innkeeper, a lovely woman named Paige Sterling, right as she was kicking out a hooligan who apparently used to have a permanent room, but who had abused his privileges one time too many. Paige offered us his room at a discounted rate to teach the foolish rabble-rouser a lesson. Candy tossed her a platinum rather than a gold, and in exchange the delightful young woman offered to give us all rooms instead of being cramped up in the single room she’d originally offered. Her only catch was that Peanut and Gordon needed to be stabled, as there wasn’t room for a bear and a ram in the inn, but she offered a ticket which she told Vigo and Issac to show the stablehand, which would get them a free stay on the house.

With rooms secured we asked Paige if she’d seen anyone new in town who matched Ringwald’s description. She hadn’t, but she pointed us in the direction of one Captain of the Guard Terrance Gladshire, who may have heard something she had not. I took the initiative and informed Vigo, Issac, and John that we would be departing the inn to speak with the captain, and to meet us there. Yet somehow Candy and I reached the guard’s station at the same time as Vigo and Issac. John did not arrive until later, when we were already speaking with Sir Terrance Gladshire.

Terrance was a young man, whom the guards below him didn’t seem to give quite the respect he deserved. From the word around town, crime was virtually non-existent with Terrance leading, yet those under him treat him much like a child they get a kick out of teasing. It would seem one of his parents was in the position before him, and the older guards knew him when he was younger, so the view of him as the captain’s ankle biter hadn’t quite faded from memory as of yet.

 Regardless, we met with the captain, who told us that Cleric Ringwald had been in their custody until recently. She had come seeking sanctuary, believing she would be safe under the guard’s watch. They’d reluctantly agreed to lock her up—from the look of it the jail cells weren’t getting much use anyways. However the next morning she had vanished, with only a note left behind, indicating she had been taken to the Unbound Hollow, a series of caverns that used to be a tourist attraction until a tribe of Duergar moved in and people began disappearing in the area. Terrance felt there was reason to believe the Duergar were responsible for kidnapping Ringwald, as well as a number of his men. We knew what we had to do—the future of Dual Wood depended upon us finding Ringwald after all. Captain Gladshire offered us compensation should we be able to rescue his men while we were seeking the cleric, to which my companions heartily agreed.

 And so we set out, to the caverns a short walk from town. Before us loomed the dread Unbound Hollow. The mighty adventurers readied themselves to enter the cavern, with certainty in our hearts that we would find and rescue the captive cleric, and return the world to its rightful order. And with that, we stepped into the cavern.

 ...

 ...

And immediately fell through a trap waiting for us within the entrance.

[sthuntress]

oh my gosh, I want to hear ALL your NY adventures!:D They sound intense and dramatic ! (also it's true NYC isn't really representative of the US, it's...NYC XD , I PROMISE other Big Cities even art different, but!! I really want to hear your Culture Clash experiences!) I'm glad you've come back in an arting mood and the play was fun!!

Our adventures were intense, but mostly because we’re kinda dumb spaniards. We decided the subtitle of our trip was “Panic and Stress™” because holy macaroni we were confused half of the time. 

Also I want to apologize to every person I talked to while I was there because I Forgot How To Talk every two seconds. Like, I understood everything they told me but my mind was like [……..] when I had to reply.

I’ll leave some stuff that happened in the read more but this post was getting really long, so I might make a part 2 in the future!

Well, first things first: I lost my dignity right at the JFK airport. We had been flying for eight hours straight (I read The Princess Bride, which was very fun!), from 7pm (in spain) to 9pm (in nyc) and… have I told you I’m deathly afraid of heights and the ocean? Well, I was on a window seat while we were flying over the whole freaking ATLANTIC OCEAN and it was nighttime the whole flight so everything was PITCH BLACK except for the plane wing and I WAS SO NERVOUS but my friends were very kind and patient so I didn’t panic a lot. Just a little bit. You know, the normal amount.

And, to avoid getting killed by jet lag, we tried to stay awake the entire flight (I think I was the only one that managed to do it, tho. Just this once: thank you, insomnia!) but when I got to the security thing my tired, tired mind forgot languages existed and I made a fool out of myself. But everything was fine because the man asking me (way too many) questions decided I was a danger but only to myself (or that i was simply Stupid™) and let me go.

Beetlejuice was really really fun! The people working at the theatre were the nicest, the actors/actresses were amazing and I had a great time! (except for the part where I thought I lost my phone and panicked a lot) I loved loved loved every part of it but tHE LIGHTS AND THE STAGE WERE SO WELL DESIGNED LIKE- I can’t even.

We also visited the Museum of Natural History (one of my friends is a big dinosaur/fossil nerd, so she became our makeshift guide) and the Museum of Modern Art (here I was the makeshift guide because after all I’m a Fine Arts graduate and also a huge Art Nerd). I found my nemesis (Picasso) there but also lots of artwork and artists that I had kinda forgotten existed since I finished college.

[Also I rediscovered I have a serious case of Baby Face™, because 90% of the people my two friends and I talked to tought I was Their Child (they’re older than me but not that much) so there’s that too. I’m baby, I guess.]

Some cultural things people warned me about but I really didn’t think they were serious (also don’t take this very seriously I’m a Small Town Girl (living in a lonely wooorld) just pointing random things I noticed):

People driving madly, like they were on a Fast & Furious movie (I was very very scared oh my god)

People not giving a shit about anything (but I’ve seen that in Madrid and London too so I guess it’s a Big City Thing?)

People shouting at the top of their lungs in the middle of the street????

We ate a lot. Like, A LOT.

Also, coffee. It’s kind of a meme where I’m from that people that aren’t from spain/portugal don’t know how to make good coffee (i’ve been to other places in europe and can confirm) but in NYC we truly tasted what it’s known in spain as aguachirri. I was so, so, so watered down. It tasted like dirty water

That, and the fact that we couldn’t find a Bar like the ones we’re used to in Spain (where you can order beer/liquor or a coffee/tea or soft drinks (and also tapas but that’s a thing for another day) at the same time and it isn’t weird). Everything was either a café (Starbucks everywhere) or a pub, with no middle ground.

Every other big city I’ve visited had a… “historic district”, I think it’s called in english???, but NYC had this kind of modern vibe everywhere we went

This is gonna sound very very strange, but the sidewalks were very… errrh… plain, I guess? I’m used to sidewalks having tiles or a pattern (like this or this)

There were screens and ads everywhere ??

People not recycling at least plastics???

But most of all, what really confused me was Taxes and Tips

Taxes as in having to think that something will be more expensive when you go to pay for it

and Tips as in I’m dumb and having to make a percentage of something and then add it to another number shuts my mind off and my head cannot process it like ???

Both of these basically mean: I’m Very Stupid and Math Will Be My Ruin Someday

Aand that’s everything that came to mind now, but as this is getting kinda long I’ll save some anecdotes and more “Me Being A Dumb Foreigner” for part 2 :D

[phckingusername]

Because I wimped out

Here is the story I deleted off ao3 but shorter. Waaaaaay shorter. More like a run down of the idea.

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Warnings: Rape and non con., Major character death.

Characters: Connor, Richard, Gavin, Hank, Amanda

Relationships: Connor& Richard &Hank, Richard/Gavin, Connor&Gavin

Other notes: Weird au, Connor and Richard are Marble God's, that turn "human", Hank is a farmer, Gavin is a starving artist literally.

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Connor and Richard are God's carved out of Marble by their "Mother" Amanda. Both live in a heavenly garden. They are not allowed to leave. They are however unwanted and Amanda hates them. (Honestly I wrote some pretty good poems for this part) One night as she sleeps Connor takes Richard and runs away. "She plans to kill us." He tells his "little" brother. But once in the land of man they are no longer made of Marble stone. They are now ashamed of their Naked bodies. (Very biblical I guess)

So naked and covered in mud and leaves the huddle and cling to each other at the village market. This is where Gavin first See's their beauty. Being an artist he wants to immortalize them or more specifically Richard in his art. Not knowing they are already.

Rather than typing more out here's the haiku of Richard's first impression of Gavin.( In the first chapter the story was told in poems from nines pov like his diary almost.)

Man who dwells with Rats

Beauty hidden under dirt

Is he one of them?

Soon Hank who's son and wife both died of the same sickness shows kindness and compassion for the two naked siblings. Gavin is quite relieved the two are safe. Hank is a farmer, well was I guess, after his son's death the crops stopped growing. The two brothers quickly adopt Hank as their new Father and try to help with chores. Hank seems quite alright with them staying and calling him Father.

Gavin was left on the streets to die as a child and would have very nearly died. However a traveling poet/ Artist took him under his wing. Naming Gavin, and giving him a passion for art. Although the artist was very old and died late into Gavin's teen years. Gavin is his adult age in game now. He lives in a rundown home. Holes in the walls and rats crawling everywhere. He looks rough. Literally starving, he tries to sell his art and draw others for a living. He doesn't know much else.

Because Hank has no crops to eat or sell he is also starving. Connor and Richard try to help by making things to sell at the market. Richard has made wooden children's toys and heads to the market alone.

By this time it's winter. Richard has set up right across the way from Gavin. The two seem to have a quiet conversation via staring. Gavin lost so deeply in those steely blue eyes. Wanting nothing more than to hide the man away and draw every last inch of him. So that he may stare into those eyes forever. Richard doesn't feel so strongly about Gavin but is filled with innocent curiosity.

This is where things go down hill. Gavin isn't the only one who thinks Richard is breathtakingly beautiful. Three drunk men crowd and trap Richard before pulling him off to a more secluded area. Richard is strong but he also feels small despite his actual size. If he were a god still he'd have no problem pushing the men off him. But his flesh is man now. He is scared. He screams and begs but they show no sign of stopping. They rip off his clothes they touch him, they touch themselves.

Meanwhile Gavin hears Richards pleas for help. They break his heart, he knows all too well what is happening. He tries to tell himself not to get involved and stay out of trouble. But he can't let them take away what was taken from him all those years ago. Not to someone so pure. So he finally gets the courage to help. Knife in a white grip and angry. He slashes and stabs at the men. Giving them.......28 stab wounds! ( Sorry not sorry).

Richard is huddle in the fetal position body shaking and eyes shut tight. Gavin tries to soothe him enough to look at him. Telling him he's safe. "Hey you know me. I'm the man across the way." "The artist?" "Yeah, that's me." Finally Richard relaxes enough to walk over to Gavin's place for some new clothes and the promise of a warm fire. Richard is exhausted and allows Gavin to dress him. He soon falls asleep on Gavin's trash pile he calls a bed.

The next morning Gavin waits for his brother to show up. It's just before dawn when he sees Connor searching. Connor wakes Richard up and just bombards him with questions and fusses over him. Checking and turning Richard's head for injuries. Richard places a hand over Connor's mouth and only let's go when he's calmed down. Richard starts by introducing Gavin the tells Connor Gavin had saved him from 3 men. Richard tells all and the two share in their tears. Gavin seeing How angry and incredibly sad Connor is about this. Connor saying thing like I'm supposed to protect you... Gone with you... It's all my fault..ect. When Richard just flat out tells Connor to shut up. " You are not at fault for the sins of man." Gavin found that an odd phrase. Finally they get collected and Connor pulls Gavin into the tightest hug thanking him deeply for what he's done. Richard now properly expresses his thanks and wants to know how he can repay him. "Let me draw you." It was almost embarrassing how quickly he blurted it out. Richard says they are friends and Gavin gets all touched by it.

The two brothers walk home and crawl in bed with Hank. The two quite cold, they hug either side of the sleep man they call father. Back with Gavin. He pulls out the few sketches of Richard he had drawn of him while he slept. Gavin giddy about soon seeing him again for a proper portrait. He spends his new energy cleaning the house and himself up.(this was as far as I had written but here's the rest I had planned)

Connor tells Hank (at Richards request) about what happened and Hank freaks. Richard then tells them both for the first time that he will be going back to visit Gavin. Hank knows of him and doesn't think too highly of him. Gives off a bad vibe. People don't want to go near him in fear of being bitten. Although he has never actually bitten a person before. Nevertheless Richard goes (with Connor) to see Gavin as promised for a proper picture. Connor selling the things he made as Richard's toys were destroyed by the men. But also keeping a close eye on his brother. Gavin is a blushing mess but once he's in the zone he gets this really focused look on him. Richard finds himself entranced by the look and admires Gavin when he's like this. Gavin saved the eyes for last. "Richard, get really close I need to draw your eyes." Gavin says still focused but when he looks up he freezes. He can't seem to look away. Nines stares back for awhile before speaking up. Putting Gavin back on the task but blushing red all the way to the tips of his ears. Richard has never seen anyone blush before. He wants to see more of it.

Things go well for Connor as he seems to have more people skills. They finally have money to buy food for their starving father. Richard gives Gavin a few coins. Gavin shocked by this. However Connor and Richard don't seem to plan on forgetting about Gavin and what he did. They treat him like family.

Richard and Connor visit every day to sell things and for a picture. Gavin drawing Connor quite a few times. Noting how different the two are. Connor is as Richard described, Soft with eyes of Earth. Connor is always protective of his brother. Expression always Stern and harsh. It was incredible to see just how soft Connor was when he smiled. Gavin wanted to capture that. However Gavin spent most of his time drawing Richard. Page after page. Looking at them when Richard went home for the day. Gavin would hide away and hold the papers close to his chest. Heart fluttering as he spent countless hours looking through each one.

Spring has come and gone. Just on the cusp of summer. Richard has become just as obsessed with looking at Gavin as he is looking at him. When he's with Gavin he feels... Something different. A different kind of love. Content and happy to be with him and almost empty without him. Richard is perplexed and frustrated with these feelings he doesn't understand. Gavin notices that Richard is not his usual self one night. By this time Connor trust Richard is safe when with Gavin and doesn't always go with him. Richard went somewhat late at night. Gavin asks what's up and Richard honestly and openly explains how he's feeling and wants to know why. Gavin's hopes that what it sounds like is what it is but asks Richard to go deeper and describe how he feels when with Gavin. It's all quite poetic (remember Richard has this internal diary in the form of poems) Gavin kisses Richard when he's finished speaking. But right after Richard gets up and goes home in a rush.

When he gets home he hides himself away. Hank finds him as asks. He tells him Gavin kissed him and Hank calms his anger before jumping to conclusions. "And how do you feel about it?" Richard sniffles and rubs his wet eyes. "I really liked it. Is that ok?" He looks up at Hank. "Son, I don't know where you came from but what you're feeling, is love. Love is pure and innocent, the things you do with a loved one is not sinful, it will not make you dirty or tainted. Love is beautiful and it comes with many faces. For me love of different kinds looks like my wife, like my son Cole, like you and your brother. It's ok son."

Back with Gavin he's freaking out and yelling at himself just about pulling his hair out. Richard waits a few days to sort out his thoughts and think about what Hank said. Meanwhile Gavin is an emotional wreak.

One night as Gavin gazes at a portrait of Richard he hears a knock on the wall. Richard is there leaning through the window. "May I come in?" Gavin is relieved to see him. Once Richard is inside Gavin goes to apologise but his lips are claimed before he could. He practically melts. "Gavin, you are what love looks like to me. You, Connor, Hank. You are all the different faces of my love." He said holding Gavin. "I know not of the joys of the flesh. I want to experience this with you. I want us to make love." At this point Gavin's circuits are fried. But he finally responds "For now, I want to hold you tonight." And that's what they do. They hold each other. They whisper sweet nothings as they soothe each other into sleep. Gavin wants to hold Richard, feel him in his arms. Make sure he is real. Not just pencil on a page. Don't get him wrong Gavin really wants to make love with Richard. But he wants Richard to feel the softer, simpler form of intimacy. Hold hand and cuddle, spoon and give sweet kisses. Show him love, not lust. And Richard is all about it. Just adores it. Loves holding and being held. Then one night it happens. They make love. Naked bodies against each other. Hot sweat steams off of them in the cool night. Beautiful moans and whimpers. Hands grabbing and clawing. Broken up love letters and each other's names spilling off their lips. During and after there's just so much love.....

Everything seems to be going ok now. They all have food to eat and they have each other. The crops are growing again . But Hank isn't doing so well. He is sick. No matter what they do Hank doesn't seem to get any better. He is dieing. The two brothers hold and cuddle Hank in his death bed. By the time they wake up in the morning Hank is gone.

Both Connor and Richard go to Gavin to mourn. The last time he's seen the two cry was when they first met. He over hears them talking, discussing whether or not to go back to Amanda. To leave the land of man. But they can't, back at the garden they will be killed. "I do not want to go back to being made of stone. I don't want my body to feel cold. The flesh of man is weak and delicate, but it's warm and soft. I want to bleed. I want to live and die with man." Well fuck, Gavin fucked a God. He's not really sure how to feel about that, about the brothers. He is afraid.

Gavin is acting distant and nervous around Richard now in their alone time with each other. Richard doesn't understand why and it hurts. "Gavin, don't you love me?" I'm a RAT and he's a God. Gavin tells himself. And he tries to push Richard away. Fakes anger and hate towards Richard. Gavin breaks Richards heart and his own. Gavin is alone now. Richard cries as Connor tries to comfort him. He is depressed and doesn't leave the bed. Richard doesn't move, doesn't even talk to Connor anymore. Connor is lonely.

Gavin misses Richard. Misses the company of the two brothers. He doesn't want to live anymore. Life is without meaning now. He can't bare to think of Richard, to look at endless drawings and memories that come with it.

While Richard sleeps Connor makes a visit to Gavin. He is angry. Grabbing Gavin by his shirt and lifting him up against the wall. Asks him why? Why he would hurt his brother this way. "I thought you loved him?" "I do love him." "Then why did you make him Cry!!? Why has he stopped smiling? Stopped getting out of bed! Stopped talking to me!!!?" His grip tightens as tears start to fall from Connor's eyes. "Why did you break his heart!?" "I know your little secret. I know what you two are!!! You lied to me! You're Gods. And I'm not..... I'm not... Good enough. Even if we stayed together, I would die and he'd be alone again. I'm not worth all that pain.". "Gavin, love is what makes life worth living. We loved Hank and it hurt more than anything when he died. But I wouldn't trade anything for the love we felt together. Our Father gave us something nothing else in this world could. Gavin, you gave that to Richard and then you took it away. Give it back. Give his life meaning again." "Can man really do that for a God?" " No not man, you. It's you who can make that possible for him..... Please come with me. Come back to him." "I... I will." Connor hugs Gavin tightly when they hear voices outside. Gavin recognizes two of the men as the ones who assaulted Richard. The other must have died from Gavin's attack. The other three men with them must be friends of theirs. The five where headed towards Gavin's home. "Shit! Connor get out of here! Go home and don't let them see you!" Connor protests but Gavin gets him to leave.

Connor runs back to Richard waking him up and telling him Gavin needs help. He gets up instantly and the two head back to him. Only by the time they get there it's too late. ......

WARNING THIS IS REALLY BAD!

There's blood everywhere one of the men lay dead. But the other 4 are gone. They find Gavin. Naked. Raped then brutally murdered. Cut, stabbed, bruised, choked. The stream of tears still visible on his cheeks. (I'm really sorry)

------

Richard and Connor build a garden of their own deep in the forest. It's filled with so many beautiful flowers and trees. Lilacs and cherry blossoms, aspens and roses. A river stream and a small pond of fish. They burry Gavin and Hank next to each other. Richard places every drawing with Gavin. Connor stands over Hanks grave while Richard stands over Gavin's. "He loved you you know. That night. He was going to come back." "Why did he leave?" "He found out we were God's. And felt unworthy." Connor explained. The two stayed silent after that for some time. "Together?" "Together my brother. We'll all be together soon." The held hands still standing over the graves. Then, they turned to stone. Neither God or Man now. Merely marble statues. Pieces of art never to be seen by any man again. Tombstones for lost loved ones.

[believerindaydreams]

you knew I had to ask K for the trio :3 I love me some post-apocalypse stuf

in which there is a stubborn refusal to settle on which apocalypse this actually is

“Terminat hora diem- what utter nonsense I’m spouting. A pet affectation, at best.” Talking to fill the void has never been my art; but our resident expert has abandoned the attempt. His face turned to the wall, prayer beads slipping through his fingers. Quite dead to the world.

Perhaps Tuco’s only being reasonable, when the world’s gone so mad as this. I defied the laws of society, true; but I never thought to see them so madly cast aside.

“In days of peace, perhaps it was,” Father Paul says, gripping my shoulder with his sun-browned hand. His face has never acquired laugh lines like his brother’s; but that harsh and look seems only fitting now. “But these are not the first bad times the church has seen- we’ve learned how necessary it is, to salvage after disaster. For the sake of mind as well as spirit. Your Latin is a treasure to be shared out, not forgotten.”

“Just the same as your Spanish, in that case.” Tuco will never press the point, so I must perforce.

I don’t expect him to take it well, but the man’s a stoic after the best; not a swallow, not a flicker of self-regard. “You’re right. Though it’s been a long time, since I was Pablo Ramirez.”

“I’ll help you,” Tuco says eagerly, distracted from his empathy; and for that one bright look of eagerness, I think our resident prior would have made a harder sacrifice.

I would have done myself, if the chance was there; but Tuco’s known long since that I’d die readily enough to protect him from my errors.

And considering what we’ve already lost? What else is there to give?

******

“I knew before you told me,” Tuco says that night. Holding fast to me with more strength than wit.

A fragile lovemaking, this, and not properly deserving the name at all- nothing lofty and transformative, neither is it forgetful and cheerfully animal. My pareja has been talking incessantly now he’s found his voice again, proving his humanity every minute; and it is not how this should be but nothing is now.

“You heard it on the radio?” I’d been with Pablo when the news had come through, a lazily meaningless game of backgammon.

(Was this how superstitions began, in past centuries? For I can’t envision touching a backgammon board again with any pleasure.)

“No- no. I woke up from my siesta, and I saw Blondie standing by the window, smoking a cigarillo. He said to me, it’s finished. That’s all, but the way he said it! So much sadness in his voice… I hid beneath the covers. Then he was gone when I looked again.”

“You know he isn’t here, Tuco.” Fancy’s fancy, but fact is fact. Blondie’s not coming back this time. Won’t again walk through that door, covered in mud and exhausted from his camping trip, patiently resigned to Tuco’s lavish coddling and my own amused pleasure at his reappearance.

If I had kept up my old trade, all those contacts and lethal information at my fingertips, would he be alive now? Most likely not- an earlier grave for all us three, if I’m being honest with myself.

I wish to lie. I wish to berate myself with absurd scenarios in which we lived, whatever improbable unmarked path would have kept the three of us together. Now, that’s hardly more sensible-

“If I’d gone to him, maybe he’d be here,” Tuco says hoarsely, a dry sob sticking in his throat. “If I’d taken Blondie by the hand, if I hadn’t turned away-”

Thank a god I don’t believe in, that one of us is rational. “That’s nonsense and you know it.”

“I believe in miracles- Angel, do you know what a hellish thing it is, to believe? To think that if you’d only been holier, your faith might have been enough-”

he struggles with me then, roughly pushing his way out of my grasp, and I don’t dare stop him; it takes all my effort to keep old instincts from rising up. I might hurt him to the quick, if he caught me by surprise; and Tuco knows that well.

(That his native caution has so far deserted him, that’s a worse hurt than all the rest together. The world burning is its own affair; but my pareja is irreplaceable.)

(The more so, because Blondie wasn’t either.)

“I hate- I hate-” he’s crying now, at the foot of the bed; and it wrings my heart with a strange relief. He’ll be far more himself after such an outpouring, those quick sympathies and sudden rages of his.  

“That’s fair. Don’t berate yourself for that.”

“I hate how hungry I am.”

Rather the nonsequitur: but that’s easily remedied. It’s only a moment’s work to step out and pluck out a round, perfect orange. Listening all the time, if he should attempt something unfortunate in my absence.

But he’s not moved at all when I come back. Limp fingers won’t hold the offered sphere; I take it back, contemplating how to peel it. There’s a knife conveniently to hand, in the pocket of my neatly folded trousers.

I don’t think I could bring myself to commit even so small a violence, in Tuco’s presence. Not today. Better to take a cue from my innamorato, and tear it with my teeth- tough and rather bitter work, but doable-

Tuco’s fit looks more like a seizure than giggling; but giggling it nevertheless is. He sprawls across the quilts, close enough to touch again; I refrain until the spasming’s stopped. Then stroke him with slow careful strokes, the oil from my hands transferring to his flesh, staining him wherever I touch.

“Oh, Angel, don’t- don’t try to be him. It wouldn’t ever work.”

“That’s not what I-”

“It was a little.”

He hands me the knife; I finish quickly, putting aside the ravaged peel. Orange segments neat and unbroken, the way that Tuco prefers them. They sit on the bed, untouched.

“It occurs to me. That fruit bowl might hold the last oranges either of us will ever see.”

“Yeah, I thought of that too.”

For all his claim of appetite, his look at the fruit is uninterested at best. There’s more light in his eye when it falls on my body, still naked as his own- it’s very cold, this late. I draw the bedclothes over us, grasping for his warmth. We should have Blondie for this; and that small loss is a banality of almost unimaginable pettiness, but that does nothing to stop the odd tear dropping into Tuco’s curls.

“I mean I want to eat something, my belly’s empty. You’re here and I want to fuck you, and I want- I should be in mourning, shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t my heart be broken?”

My only comparable experience would be with my mentor; and she’d left such clear and precise instructions, a rigorous schedule to maintain, that I was left with no blank time for grieving. Blondie would never be so organised, as to provide a forthright message-

“If you have a joke, Angel, I think I could stand to hear it.”

“…it certainly would be ironic, if he’d won his wings for the sole purpose of consoling you.” There will be better times to point out the probability of his dreaming. Not tonight.

Tuco doesn’t laugh. He snorts.

“Like my partner was a saint- ha. No, he was human like me, and I’m glad of that too! You should have some of this orange, Angel, I think you’re getting light headed.”

“All right.” I sit up against the headboard, pull him upright with me. Carefully detach a single delicate segment with my bare hands, pop one end of it into my mouth. Palpitate it delicately to squeeze out the juice.

“You make that look pretty sexy…”

“Come and get it, then.”

The following could be described only as a mess.

Orange over the quilt, on my thigh, crushed against my teeth. A chunk of peel lodged jauntily behind Tuco’s ear, while juice drips down his mustache; he licks at it contentedly.

There’s waste to this, an extravagance that would seem rather contemptible to my mentor- and if she’d ever thought to mention what to do in case of apocalypse, I might have better notions, but the thought really hadn’t occurred. This time is already more grace than I’d know what to do with.

But I have not lain with my lovers for so many years, without letting their appreciation of softness bind to my sharp awareness of every moment. If he’s all I have left, I’ll have him and kiss him again-

(why, there won’t be any need to translate Spanish in bed, now-)

“God above, I’m glad to see this. Been scared to hell about you two.”

“…that’s Blondie, isn’t it?” Tuco remarks. Not turning his head.

“It is.”

“So he’s definitely there, it’s not just me.”

“Right.”

“But he wasn’t here this afternoon.”

“No?” Blondie says, looking quizzical. “I was still with Penny- it’s a lucky thing she had the plane all fueled up, we made it here on fumes. Or not even that, we kinda…crashed, actually. Not too badly. She’s clever that way.”

“Is all well?” If I allowed a bagatelle like being caught in flagrante with orange rind in my hair, by a man who has no business being anything but a ghost, to put me off my poise…it’d be a rather poor show.

“Sure! Sure. She’s waiting for me to come back with the van, so we can get all the cargo back here. I’ll have to talk to Father Paul about that, but I needed to see you two safe first-”

“I think I must be a terrible person,” Tuco says musingly, while I’m preoccupied with rediscovering every angle of my innamorato’s anatomy. Each familiar, and yet new as sunrise-

“Why?” we both chorus.

“That cargo- I guess we get to keep it, yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” Blondie agrees, between breathless kisses. (His rasping stubble is paining me, where the citric acid stings, and I would not trade the sensation for anything.) “What about it? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If I have you two…what kind of catastrophe is that, huh?”

“A bad one,” Blondie says mock-solemnly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“A very bad one,” I agree, taking his hand.

“…it’s all the other people I feel bad for,” Tuco says gloomily, huddling between us. “Who aren’t lucky like me, you know? I mean, I’m the kind of person who- who gets killed in the first five minutes, that’s what, and then everybody else dies too, and it’s just- two blonds walk off to Eden in the sunset-”

“We’re not gonna let that happen,” Blondie insists. “You’re gonna make it through the same as us- aren’t we, Angel?”

It’s strange, really, that everything’s changed and yet nothing has at all.

“Of course.”

I drag the knife along my tongue, carefully cleaning it of acid. I may need it in future. Quite soon even, if there’s trouble on the road. 

But not, I think, just yet. 

Unfortunate Penny and her plane full of orange marmalade will simply have to wait.

[misssophiachase]

Mini Prompt - Klaus kisses Caroline at midnight on NYE and it leaves her a bit flustered, although she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.

Thanks anon! I wish I had this for Klaroeve. I hope you like my take. It’s based on lyrics from New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift, one of my faves. As per usual I’m not too good at sticking to the whole ‘mini’ premise of a drabble, must be your amazing prompt!  

New Year’s Day

Hold onto the memories…

PresentDay – Austin, TX 

Caroline Forbes hated New Year’s Eve. 

Well, since five years ago.

It had become a well-known fact within her family andclose circle of friends both in her hometown of New York and now more recently in Austin. Thankfully no one had dared to askwhy she’d changed her tune so suddenly and that was just fine.  

So much so that she insisted upon being left aloneevery year. And for the most part they did so because she was like an extremelygrouchy bear with a sore head. Obviously December 31st, 2018, was anotherstory altogether. Her friends had bravely, or stupidly, decided to poke said bear.

Caroline had bought the supermarket out of ChunkyMonkey and was preparing her first movie. Who didn’t want to watch the Notebookon New Year’s Eve? It wasn’t like the occasion could get any moredepressing, right? 

“Ohgod, kill me,” she heard that familiar voice before she saw its owner. “Talkabout depressing.” It was like she could read her mind. 

“Idon’t know, Ryan Gosling isn’t too bad to look at, Kat,” the other familiarvoice offered. 

“Weare trying to get her out of this sick and twisted situation not remind herthat Ryan Gosling is hot and a totally worthy reason for staying home on New Years.”

“Wayto convince her to come out,” Bonnie drawled, sarcastically. 

“Yourealise I can hear you both, right?” She murmured, chomping on some butteredpopcorn and not bothering to turn around knowing her best friends were standingimpatiently in her kitchen. “And while we’re at it, remind me toconfiscate your keys to my apartment.”

“Canyou just drop this whole hostility act, it’s not attractive, Care,” Katherinechided.  

“Saysthe girl who is crashing my private movie marathon?”

“Youneed an intervention, enough is enough,” she huffed, her high heels clicking onthe floorboards. Caroline didn’t have much time to react given her supposedbest friend had stolen the television remote and turned everything off.

“Youdidn’t just do that, real mature Pierce. Who are you anyway? The fun police?” She snapped, a comment more than a question. Katherinelifted the remote above her head so she couldn’t snatch it so easily. 

“If you think she’s the fun police, you really do need help,” Bonnie added. “This whole, weird tradition needs to be broken.”

“Ithought you were on my side, Bon?”

“Notsince you decided that outfit was acceptable even behind closed doors,” shesuggested. Caroline looked curiously at her combination of pinksweatpants and a blue and orange Knicks jersey and decided it was just fine.

“Iknow you’re a Spurs fan Bonnie but even that comment is low.”

“Justplease stop being snarky and put this on,” Katherine drawled, holding up whatlooked like a small, black garment.

“Byitself?” Caroline baulked.

“It’sa dress, Caroline,” she shot back. 

“Areyou sure it’s not a belt?” 

“Howold are you again?” Caroline narrowed her eyes in her friend’s direction. Shewas on the older side of twenty-seven but there were moments her Great Aunt Mabel decided to takeover her body. Caroline chose to think this was one of those occasions. 

“I’mnot getting off this couch until you tell me what’s going on?” She scoffed. 

“Fine,”Kat replied gruffly, relinquishing the dress (or belt) momentarily. “Youknow that guy I was telling you about?” Before Caroline could mentally trawl through theoptions, Bonnie interjected.

“No,not the Italian model, the Australian magician or the Scandinavian fisherman,” sheclarified. “This one is an art critic.”

“Wow, those are the hardest nuts to crack,” Caroline replied knowingly. She was a singer by trade, doing mostly small gigs around town but had met a few of those in her time performing at art gallery exhibitions. “ And I reiterate my previous observation,” she whistled thinking back to the most difficult of them.

5 years earlier…NYC

It was that ominous New Year’s Eve five years ago when she met a difficult art critic for the very first time. While his suit was impeccable, his attitude and supposed manners were grating on her last nerve. She was hoping to escape as soon as their set was finished.  

The room was full, barely enough space to breathe in fact. Caroline had finished her song and made her way to what she thought was the back exit for some air but obviously took a wrong turn.

Caroline didn’t consider herself an art expert but she was neither excited nor moved by the works on display. She’d walked in circles, not expecting to meet someone obviously worked up and pacing the length of what looked like a back room. 

“Sorry,” she offered, his eyes meeting her gaze unexpectedly. Caroline would be lying if she wasn’t aroused in that moment by his sinful, crimson lips and a stray dimple. “I took a wrong turn.”

“Do you like the art?” His question blind sighted her briefly. Caroline knew exactly what she thought but given they’d never been introduced formally and this guy was the artist paying her bills she was reluctant to speak. 

“Well, um…”

“This work is rubbish don’t you think?

“Well, it’s not really my place…”

“Why, cat got your tongue?”

“Fine. If I’m being honest, it seems kind of forced.”

“How so?” She paused, wondering why this guy was so eager for her amateur opinion. “The truth, please,” he implored, she couldn’t miss the desperation in his tone and those pleading eyes.

“Honestly? It has no heart, it’s cold and unfeeling,” she admitted. “But please don’t tell the artist, I’d like to be able to pay my rent next month.”

He’d stared at her for a good few minutes and she wasn’t sure what he was going to do next. Turns out he didn’t have to say anything. She’d obviously said too much and kicked herself mentally. Caroline always spoke without thinking and this instance was no different.

The chants from the art gallery increased in volume and they could hear each number as it was articulated for countdown purposes. Still their eyes never lowered or deviated. 

8….

“I hate New Year’s Eve,” Caroline murmured trying to break the tension. 

“Me too,” he replied, a slight and unexpected grin tugging at the ends of those lips. “Even more than gallery showings when you hate the work your publicist has chosen without permission.”

6….

“You’re the artist?” She squeaked, “I thought it was the rude guy in the suit.”

“No, that’s my older brother,” he murmured. First she’d insulted his art and now his own brother. “He’s an art critic and thinks he knows everything. My sister is the publicist.”

“Well, I’d be firing their incompetent asses now, unless it makes things awkward at Christmas, of course.” she smiled, hoping a bit humour would dig her out of this big hole. 

4….

“Who says it wasn’t awkward beforehand? I know you’re a singer but if there’s any chance you want to be my publicist let me know.” 

“I’m not the nagging type but I’m also not the kiss-your-ass type either.”

3….

“Why? Don’t you like my ass?”

“If I was your publicist right now I’d say that ego is not attractive,” she shot back slyly. “And it might be difficult for me to lie if I was asked to deny it.”

1…

“I wouldn’t want you to lie, love,” he murmured. “Your honesty is the best part about you.”

As the countdown ended and the cheers sounded out, it was as if an invisible magnet pulled them together. She thought he was a bit of an ass and he seemed to be going through an artistic crisis, but their kiss lasted much longer than the prescribed time. 

And it felt good.

So good.

Caroline didn’t want to enjoy it or him but the idiot had messed with her resolve. She pulled back, trying to find her balance and bearings as she did. “I’ve got to get going and sing some Auld Lang Syne.” She couldn’t miss the disappointment as it crossed his face.

“Thank you,” he offered as she walked away. 

“For what?” She couldn’t resist, turning around briefly. 

“For being honest.” She smiled briefly, the warmth flooding through her body before heading towards the make-shift stage. 

She left not long after her set finished making her way from the venue. She hadn’t seem him again, probably best because guys like that weren’t her type. It was only when she passed him conversing with a very annoyed brunette who was questioning his absence during the countdown that Caroline realised he had a girlfriend but was kissing her instead. Her instincts were obviously right. 

Unfortunately she hadn’t stopped thinking about him or that kiss since. He’d sparked something inside that Caroline hadn’t expected. Bastard. She’d even shamefully looked him up on the internet and realised he had multiple girlfriends around the place. She really should have known. 

Caroline had always hated New Year’s Eve but now she decided it was best to avoid it at all costs. It was too much trouble. 

They will hold onto you…

“He’sholding a party tonight at a place called the Original Gallery. Ineed to be there,” Katherine pleaded, choosing to ignore herindiscretions. “I think this guy is my soulmate Care, I can just feel it.” 

“Andthis is your way of convincing her to come, how?” Bonnie rolled her eyes. 

“You know art, Care. It would help if you were there as my wing woman.” 

Granted she loved to visit galleries in her spare time and had recently enrolled in an art history course at UT but it didn’t make her an expert. Far from it, in fact. This was most definitely a stretch on Kat’s part, not that she was surprised.

“How about no?”

“How about you think about it and lose some of that Creature of the Black Lagoon act, you know hating everyoneand everything in your wake?”  

“Another stellar reason for her to agree,” Bonnie observed. 

“Please Care, you can stay in the corner of the room away from all people if that helps.”

“And Ihear the Hors d'oeuvres are going to be phenomenal if that’s anyconsolation,” Bonnie suggested.

Caroline bit her lip, torn between helping her annoying friend and the comfort of her couch. If she had any doubts, they were sealed when Katherine removed the remote control batteries and placed them securely in her purse.

“You are officially evil,” Caroline scowled. 

“Howabout we talk about this while you change,” she smirked, throwing the dress (orbelt) in her direction. She was tempted to wipe the triumphant expression fromher face but decided to leave that for when she needed it most. 

“Ihate you.”

“Ilove you too, Forbes.”

Fastforward three hours and Caroline was attempting to pull down her dress withoutmuch luck, it was still too short for her liking. If she had something else She was gladat least that Katherine and Bonnie seemed to be otherwise engaged.

Turns out Katherine had a thing for the art critic she’d met all those years ago. He still looked good in a suit but if anyone was a match for his disdain it was Katherine. His brother Kol, an indie film director, was in deep conversation with Bonnie. 

It gave her chance to peruse the artwork, and it was some of the most brilliant she’d ever seen. What she hadn’t expected on entering was it to be at his show.

Of all people. 

Caroline had no intention of seeing him again. She wasn’t some groupie even if his work was suddenly brilliant. She also noted that the clock was moving freely past midnight and the lastplace she wanted to be was in a big group of strangers.

Carolinetook the opportunity to escape towards the toilets. In her haste shemissed the marked doors and found herself in what seemed like a makeshiftstudio. It wasn’t her first getting lost, after all. 

The lights were dimmed but she could make out the canvases lined upagainst the walls and the easel in the centre of the room which caught herattention.

Carolineshivered slightly, not sure whether it was the cool temperature or thespectacular art stealing her attention. She noticed a white, paintsplattered shirt hanging nearby, slipping it over her barely theredress without much thought. Suddenly she felt extremely comfortable, it didn’thurt that the familiar scent emanating from the collar was the perfect mixture of spiceand soap.

Shemade her way towards the easel, her hand reaching out and tracing the longbrush strokes.

“Doyou usually break and enter and steal people’s clothes?” She couldn’t see him but his crisp, Britishaccent was messing with her concentration. Mainly because of just how familiar it was, even after five years. 

“Itook a wrong turn,” she shot back. “And it’s pretty cold when your bestfriend decides you should wear a belt disguised as a dress.”

“Funnyyou mention it, I have that problem all the time.”

“I’llbet you do,” she laughed. It was nice to let loose for a change. As he came into view it was difficult not to react. The semi insecure artist from years ago was oozing confidence in dark jeans and a grey henley. “I’m sorry to tell you this but your work is kind of…”

“Kind of?” A low, self-conscious growl emanated from his throat. 

“Is someone worried?”

“You were the one who made me better before but if I need a kick up the ass I’m willing to take it.”

“Well, given our history, you know I’m not a fan of your ass,” she teased. Apparently he was an ass but it was so difficult not to react to his banter.

“I signed up to the gym straight away, my New Year’s Resolution,” he shared. “I also tried to track you down but you never returned my messages. I’d be lying if I said you didn’t give me a complex and not just because of the body shaming.”

“Says the guy who was absent from sharing a midnight kiss with his brunette girlfriend. I saw you two when I left.”

“I didn’t have a girlfriend,” he murmured, his mind obviously racing. “Hayley and I had a brief thing but she turned up that night insisting we get back together. I haven’t thought about anyone but you since that night. She was never really my type.”

“And what is your type exactly?”

“Smart, beautiful, feisty and outspoken. Tells me my work is bad, tells me my family are overbearing and that I’m an arrogant ass. And looks far better in my shirt than me. All of it factually correct.”

“Was there any question? But also….”

“Hang on, I wasn’t finished,” he interrupted. “You were the only person who was honest about my work. You saved me.”

“Now, I think you’re being a little dramatic,” she murmured, hoping he wasn’t. “Why are you here of all places?”

“I’ve been trying to track you down for years,” he said before clarifying. “I hate New Year’s Eve but you made it better five year’s ago and I’m hoping you’ll consider..” 

“Consider what?”

“A truce of sorts.”

And I will hold onto you…

[crashdevlin]

To Hell and Back-9: Rising Sun

Hell and Back Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This is an AU of my story ‘Marion’ and is just as epic as that series.

Summary: The Winchesters meet Castiel, which prompts Marion to make a call she’s been avoiding since she made it topside.

Pairing(s): Crowley x Marion 

Word Count: 2664

Chapter Warnings: none, really.

Marion leaned forward and handed Dean a towel from the back seat of Bobby's car. He used it to wipe the blood from his face as Bobby drove.

"How you doin', kid?" Bobby asked, eyes flicking from the road to Dean and back.

"Aside from the church bells ringing in my head, peachy," Dean said, pulling out his cell phone. "What are you doing?" he asked into the phone.

Marion and Bobby could hear Sam's voice on the other side, but neither could make out the words. "In my car?" There was a beat before Dean cleared his throat. "Well, uh, Bobby's back. We're gonna grab a beer." Dean put a finger up to silence the protests that he could see rising up in Bobby and Marion's faces. "Done. Catch you later," Dean said, closing the phone.

"Why the hell didn't you tell him?" Bobby grumbled.

"Because he'd just try to stop us,” Dean answered.

"From what?" Marion asked.

"Summoning this thing."

"Are you stupid?" Marion asked as Bobby turned to look at Dean in shock.

"You can't be serious!"

"As a heart attack. It's high noon, baby."

"Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything." Bobby reasoned.

"That's why we've got to be ready for anything," Dean said, pulling out Ruby's knife. "We've got the big-time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk... I'm sure Marion is bringing more to the party than just her pretty face."

"This is a bad idea," Bobby said, seriously.

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?" Dean asked.

Marion scoffed, loudly. "Anything else! That thing... what it did in that hotel room, what it..."

"You could choose life." Bobby said.

"Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right? I've got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand."

"Dean, we could use Sam on this."

"Nah, he's better off where he is. Besides... we haven't had enough Bobby, Dean and Pony adventures lately."

Marion scoffed. "You better not be pulling out the nickname because you think we're about to die. You know we're probably about to die, right?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

***************************************

Bobby handed Marion a can of black spray paint and a book with several symbols almost as soon as they walked into the empty barn. "All of these, that wall."

She started on the symbols and sighed, loudly. "I really hope this thing, Castiel, really just wants to talk, you know?"

Dean pulled everything out of Bobby's trunk and set it up on the table. "That's a hell of an art project you've got going there."

Bobby finished his last symbol on the floor and walked over to meet Dean at the table. "Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe. How you doin'?"

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of."

"This is still a bad idea."

"Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby nodded and walked over to the table with the spell components on it. He looked at the twins before reluctantly pulling a pinch of powder from a small bowl and sprinkling it into the larger bowl, causing smoke. He spoke several words of Latin and the bowl gave a small explosive noise. And nothing followed.

It took about fifteen minutes, but eventually, they dropped their guards, pulling out of their fighting stances and hopping up onto the tables. Marion chose to stand by the back of the barn.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean asked, earning an angry look from the older hunter. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?"

Wind began to beat against the barn and the roof started to rattle. "You just had to say something, didn't you, D.?" Marion grumbled, holding her shotgun up.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind." Dean said, looking around. As if in answer, the lightbulbs in the fixtures over their heads burst.

The door to the barn burst open and a handsome brunette man wearing a beige trench coat over a business suit walked in, purposefully. Marion froze as Dean and Bobby started to shoot. This being was not a demon. This being was a bright blue light barely contained in a human skin. This was nothing she'd ever seen before. She watched Dean pick up Ruby's knife. "Dean... that's not..." She was barely able to get the words out, her breath was so caught.

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah. Thanks for that," Dean said, before stabbing the man with the Kurdish knife.

The man looked down at the knife, before grabbing it, pulling it from his chest and dropping it to the floor. Bobby went to brain him with an iron crowbar, but the man grabbed it, turning to face Bobby. He pressed his fingertips to the old man's forehead and Bobby crumpled to the ground. He turned to Dean. "We need to talk, Dean. Alone."

His eyes turned to Marion as Dean dropped to Bobby's side. "You... You're not like..." The man raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. Her throat clenched with the movement, cutting off her words. She focused on bringing in what little air she could, dropping her shotgun and leaning against the wall.

"Your friend is alive," the man said, examining one of Bobby's books.

Dean glared at him. "Who are you?"

"Castiel."

"Yeah, I figured that much. I mean, what are you?"

The man finally looked up. "I'm an angel of the Lord."

Dean looked incredulous as he stood. "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Lightning flashed behind Castiel and a shadowy silhouette of giant black wings appeared behind him. Marion’s eyes widened.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"You mean, the gas station and the motel? That was you talking?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

Marion’s eyebrows tucked together. *Special people?*

"And what 'visage' are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"

"This? This is... a vessel," Castiel said, examining the bullet-riddled clothing.

"You're possessing some poor bastard?"

"He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this."

"Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you, really?"

Castiel frowned deeply. "I told you."

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" Dean asked.

"Good things do happen, Dean," Castiel said, taking a step forward.

"Not in my experience."

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked. A look of recognition crossed the angel's face. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."

"You have work for me? Tell me, then, why didn't you pull my sister out?"

Castiel glared in Marion's direction. "She whored herself to the demon scum. She signed a contract saying they could take her."

Rage and confusion crossed Dean’s face, shocking Marion. She honestly didn’t think he cared that much. "I signed over my soul, you prick! I signed that they could torture me for eternity and you pulled me out! Why was I saved and she had to climb her way out?"

"She wasn't worth the effort, Dean. She isn't part of the plan." The angel’s words were calm but cold.

"She not- she's my twin! If she's not part of your plan, then I want nothin' to do with it, pal."

"You don't really have much of a choice."  

Marion struggled to speak until her head felt like it was gonna burst, her throat screaming at her. But, eventually her words started flowing again. "Angels, demons, you're all the same," she croaked, to Dean and Castiel's surprise. The angel barely acknowledged his, only lifting a single eyebrow.

"You've got plans and you expect us to just sit down, shut up, take orders. But we're Winchesters and a handprint on his shoulder isn't going to control my brother any more than the burn in my lungs controlled me. So tell us what the plan is, or piss off."

"We'll be in contact," Castiel said, before he disappeared.

"Holy crap. The balls on you. You okay?" Dean asked, rushing to his sister’s side.

"I am fine. Just... get Bobby. I need a drink and a cigarette," Marion said, walking out of the barn and pulling her cigarettes out of her jacket. She coughed into her hand after she lit up her Marlboro Red. She wiped the blood on her black under shirt and took a deep drag, the smoke burning her raw throat.

*******************************

Marion sat in one of the junk cars in Bobby’s salvage yard, contemplating the events of the day before. Angels. That was big. Huge. Huge enough to pull out her phone and click on 'Crowley'. "Probably doesn't even have that phone... better not have to get a bowl," she muttered to herself.

On the fourth ring, the phone clicked. "Marion?"

She gasped and cleared her throat. "I'm gonna set aside my anger at the fact that you haven't contacted me since I've been out of Hell, because I am so ecstatic that you kept this phone active. I was afraid I'd have to kill another cat."

"Lilith found out you were out of Hell, Marion. She immediately came to me. She killed my hounds. All I got left is the runt, Growley, and Juliet. I couldn't call on you or Lilith would've killed me." There was silence for a moment. "Besides, this is the first time you've tried to contact me since you've been back, too."

Marion rolled her eyes. He was right, though. "I wasn't sure I wanted to see you again, Crowley. You lied to me about Azazel.” She shook her head and looked around the outside of the car. “Anyway, I don't have time for this shit with you, right now."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, automatically, before shaking her head. "You know what? I'm not fine. I was called a whore today, by an angel, because of my connection with you. I need to see you. We need to talk."

"Where are you?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

"Sitting in an old Subaru, outside Bobby's place."

Crowley was in the passenger seat of the sedan before she could hang up the phone. His eyes dragged down her seated frame. It reminded her of when he'd examine her when she'd get all dressed up to impress a mark. For a second, she forgot her problems and gave in to the emotion, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around the demon's shoulders, enjoying the familiar feel of muscle underneath the fine tailored suit. She pulled back and took a deep breath to gather herself.

Crowley smiled as she pulled away from the hug. "How've you been, Pony?"

"Don't 'Pony' me, Fergus," she said, remembering her anger. "Being your 'Pony' got me sent to Hell. I need to know now, Crowley. I need to know the plan."

He rolled his eyes. "This again? I told you. You know the plan, we both die."

"I am okay with that," she said, seriously. "I got called a whore by an angel today. I know there is a Heaven up there, now, and I am perfectly happy to greet it."

"You ungrateful... I don't know what happens to demons when they die, but it sure as shit won't be pleasant. I got you out of Hell, out of your contract and this is how you repay me?! I have plans, Pony, and dying at Lilith's hand isn't a part of them."

Marion reached up and gripped the fabric on the ceiling of the car. "I figured you might say something like that." She ripped it down, revealing a Devil's Trap. Crowley glared as she pushed out the driver's side door and shut it, leaning in the window. "The angels have plans, too, Crowley. The angels have plans, Lilith has plans, you have plans. I want to know them, Fergus, because everyone seems to be setting my brothers up and no one is being very forthright."

"You bitch!" Crowley shouted, moving across the seat to the edge of the Trap. "I can't believe you would... I spent years on you! I saved you, I marked you and this is what I get?"

"I wish that mattered right now, but I'm a Winchester and the end always justifies the means when it comes to my family. Plans, Crowley. Now." It hurt her to see the betrayal in his eyes, but she had to know.

"Fine. Let me out and I'll tell you all about the plan."

She scoffed. "I'm not stupid."

"I can't tell you Lilith's plan, I won't put us in that kind of danger, but my plan... that's simple. Lilith is going to die, and when she does, I take over. The princes want nothing to do with rule and I'm her second in command. If she dies, and the angels play their part, I become King of Hell."

"And what is the angels' part?" she asked, quietly.

"That's not important. What's important is this." He pointed at her chest. "You're still marked. Still have sulfur in your lungs. My sulfur. Do you remember that I took you to my home? I set you aside so we could keep you safe, out of everything. I tried to give you a bloody home, you idiot, for the first time in your life and you couldn't set aside your Winchester bullshit long enough to get happy! You could have been my queen! I wanted you to be my queen. I had a contract that would have compelled you into it if you refused and I gave that up so that you wouldn't rot in Hell. What have your brothers ever given up for you? Nothing. Your own twin would sell you into servitude if it would save Sammy from a bloody hangnail. Me and Singer are the only family you've got. And you put me in a Devil's Trap."

Marion blinked back tears as she reached through the window to wipe off some of the red chalk she'd made the trap with. "I know you must think my priorities are out of whack, but... they're my blood. You're just... the sulfur in my lungs."

He appeared next to her and pushed her against the side of the car, his hand resting just above her cleavage. "Don't you know your anatomy? What's in your lungs infuses into your blood."

Marion looked at him, her breath catching at the sight of pain and betrayal evident in his hazel orbs. She swallowed nervously at the thought of his sacrifices she'd dismissed over the length of their relationship, and the thought of him wanting her. "I am always going to be the sulfur in your lungs. Always. Been there for you for your whole life," he whispered. He moved his hand from her chest to her cheek, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. "I can't give you what you want here, Marion. I can't let you get yourself killed for your brothers. You already gave up so much for them. I won't let you give them our future." He tipped her chin up and pressed his lips to hers. When she opened her eyes, that she hadn't even realized she'd closed, Crowley was gone.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme

SUPERNATURAL TAGS @letsby @mrswhozeewhatsis @adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs @deansenwackles

[callunavulgari]

“In the past I lay out on the land Stretched my legs felt my chest expand If we could flow together someday Then we will float away”

Heather’s Top 25 50 Songs of 2018!

guts — alex winston // sweet dreams — mark hadley // africa — toto // go to war — nothing more // smallest light — ingrid michaelson // my friends — oh wonder // knocking on heaven’s door — raign // rememberance — balmorhea // hazy shade of winter — hidden citizens // time after time — joseph william morgan // live in the moment — portugal. the man // killmonger — ludwig goransson // daddy issues — the neighbourhood // no roots — alice merton // run for your life — k.flay // play with fire — sam tinnesz // the sailor song — autoheart // warrior — steve james // IV. sweatpants — childish gambino // hello — via audio // daddy — emeli sande // paradise valley — honey and the sting // attila the king — nick glennie-smith // foolish — lauren shippen // experience — ludovico einaudi // singing in the rain — through juniper vale //  hello stranger — barbara lewis // end credits suite — nicholas britell // ahead by a century — the tragically hip // achilles come down — gang of youths // without you — leslie odom jr. // natural — imagine dragons // sky full of song — florence & the machine // broken people — logic & rag’n’bone man // flesh and bone — black math // nina cried power— hozier // kol nidrey — the yuval ron ensemble //  stronger — the score // rise like a phoenix — conchita wurst // heroes — mans zelmerlow // cut to the feeling — carly rae jepson // the greatest show — hugh jackman // the plains/bitter dancer — fleet foxes // always starting over — idina menzel // if i could turn back time — cher // new rules — dua lipa // fernando — cher // it’s quiet uptown — kelly clarkson // movement — hozier // seasons of love — rent cast

short version | long version

so, fun fact. if you start a playlist in january and add a song every time you really love it or find yourself listening to it a lot, by december you find yourself with... a very, very large playlist. 261 songs, 17 hours and 17 minutes large to be precise. which hey, last year the mix was 262 so that’s a pretty spot on average.

i sort of prefer the long one, but i mean, hey. there’s large playlists, and then there’s listing all 261 songs. so i broke it down into a moderately more digestible abridged version with only 50 songs. if you want the original playlist, the link is there. have fun. til then though, here’s my 50 most played.

i. guts || alex winston i know you're a liar, throw me into the fire man i should have known, i should have known god damn you're a liar, threw me into the fire

This song is one of those where the catchy jingle sort of hides that the meat of it is relatively dark. It’s a gorgeous song, one that I listened to for most of January, and off and on throughout the rest of the year. Alex Winston’s voice is like a dream. ii. sweet dreams || mark hadley ft. dresage Hold your head up Keep your head up, movin' on

This song I actually listened to a lot at the tale end of 2017, because it was released as part of the Wrinkle In Time trailer and it was absolutely gorgeous. This year, I found it on a Stranger Things fanvid and it’s been on my Stranger Things mix ever since.

iii. africa || toto I hear the drums echoing tonight But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation She's coming in, 12:30 flight The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation

Speaking of songs that are on my Stranger Things playlist... I’m kind of at a loss as to why this got so freaking popular this year. I mean, it is a truly dope song and I’m super fond of it but like. Was it Stranger Things? Did it just become that anthem of the year? For me, it was that I wrote fanfiction to it and also we played it on loop while we were playing beer liquor pong on vacation. It was... super surreal. iv. go to war || nothing more Hush, my baby, make no sound Maybe we can wait each other out It's a cold war Let's go to war So, this song I actually heard driving home from my friend Alex’s after marathoning a few episodes of The Flash and it just hit me super hard. I mean, it’s a great song for my kind of ships, but also, it’s just a great song. v. smallest light || ingrid michaelson Just because you don't see us Doesn't mean that we don't exist Sometimes the smallest light Shines so bright I think I originally found this song on the Watercast playlist on spotify? And I really liked it, because I like most of the songs on that playlist, but like. I was driving to work one day and like, just got hit with the biggest plot bunny for Will and El as siblings. And like, I just had that bunny and this song percolating in my head for the rest of the day, and the song just kind of stuck with me. This song is Will and El’s anthem. vi. my friends || oh wonder Can I beat within your heart? Can I bleed within your love? Oh my friends

Okay, so like show of hands- who here has read We Were Liars? This is a mostly hypothetical question because I’m not sure anyone actually pays attention to these anymore but I like them, so fuck it. Point is, I was listening to the watercast playlist a lot while reading that book and this song was playing when we made certain discoveries that most of us had already guessed, and it made me cry. vii. knocking on heaven’s door || raign It's gettin' dark, too dark to see I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

This fanvid happened around the time I was writing that Will and El as siblings fic and I basically played it and the video that inspired the next song on the list on repeat until I finished. This cover is lovely and haunting and just, such a freaking earworm.

viii. remembrance || balmorhea instrumental Yeah, this is the video. I actually used this song in a fanvid of my own a couple years ago, when I got to make a fanvid for @iki-teru​‘s fantastic Yuffie-centric fic All Through the Circling Years which... I can no longer find, so maybe it was taken down? Either way, I loved the song immensely before, but that fanvid with Hopper is so fucking tragic and beautiful. ix. hazy shade of winter || hidden citizens Seasons change with the scenery Weaving time in a tapestry Won't you stop and remember me

There... are a lot of songs on here that are also on my Stranger Things playlist. And I’m a sucker for haunting covers. x. time after time || joseph william morgan If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting Time after time This is the last of the Stranger Things songs. Well, at least the last of the ones that aren’t Harringrove related. Another fanvid that caught me off guard, because just. Damn. There are so many beautiful fanvids for this fandom, it kills me dead. xi. live in the moment || portugal. the man Come back Sunday morning With that soul to sell When you're gone Goodbye, so long, farewell Not 100% sure where I first heard this one, but it stayed with me for a good portion of the spring and summer. I discovered their song feel it still around this time last year too, so clearly they’re just a real good jam for when you want to feel the sun on your back. xii. killmonger || ludwig goransson instrumental

There are a couple songs from the Black Panther soundtrack on the longer version of this mix, three from the score and one, maybe two from the credits. I freaking loved that movie so damn much, but it’s soundtrack blew my goddamn mind. It is literally all I listened to for weeks, and this song in particular fucked me right the hell up. Just listen to the flutes and the bass. Just, damn. Killmonger, you’ve got the best theme in the entire movie. xiii. daddy issues || the neighbourhood I'd do whatever I could do I'd run away and hide with you I love that you got daddy issues And I do too And heeeere it is. This was the first song that I associated with Harringrove for uh, very obvious reasons. Definitely had this and a few others on repeat whenever I had to write sexy scenes for the boys. xiv. no roots || alice merton I like digging holes and hiding things inside them When I'll grow old, I hope I won't forget to find them 'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

This song hits the same part of me that fell absolutely in love with Guts when I first heard it. Alice Merton’s voice is just fantastic. xv. run for your life || k.flay Bite off the venomous head Follow the chemical scent Look for the hole in the fence Take everything you demand

I got to see K.Flay in concert sometime late last year, and even though I didn’t know her very well (I told my friend that I’d see K.Flay with him if he saw Glass Animals with me) her music was sweet enough that I could appreciate the concert even knowing none of the songs. Let me tell you though, I fucking wish she’d played this song then because holy fuck. xvi. play with fire || sam tinnesz Insane, inside the danger gets me high Can't help myself got secrets I can't tell I love the smell of gasoline I light the match to taste the heat Kuroshitsuji is something I haven’t really thought about in like half a decade. And then I ended up seeing this vid while I was waiting for my connecting plane to arrive so I could go see my family. I only saw the damn thing because it was made by the same person who did this one, which I hunted down because I was reading Yuri On Ice fic on the plane and the point is: pingvi is amazing and all of their vids are a goddamn delight. xvii. the sailor song || autoheart I was your sailor, your demon Your lover, your overbearing best friend Hoping for some attention

So, while I was down visiting my family sometime during the spring, I had a brief dizzying spiral where I fell head over face into the Pacific Rim fandom, because Uprising quite emphatically fucked me up. Anyway, because of this I spent the night after I saw it scrolling through fanart and reading half a decade old fanfiction while my brother was trying to make me pay attention to him. And yeah, that’s how I found this art and listened to this song for like the rest of the fucking year. xviii. warrior || steve james I got my head high, my chest out, my eyes open wide I got no fear, got no doubt and, god, I feel alive I'm not stopping for ya, I'm a fucking warrior

My brother showed me a bunch of fanvids on my first day down there, but my favorite was this one, because I’d recently watched Little Witch Academia and this was so freaking cute and all kinds of lovely. xix. iv. sweatpants || childish gambino Rich kid, asshole: paint me as a villain

Another thing that happened to me that week was the discovery of lipgallagher’s fantastic harringrove fic (shoot the lights out, hide) till its bright out. Which is all kinds of great and lead me to this song and the realization that Donald Glover does music? xx. hello || via audio How could it be Someone could find me Too scary to say hello to This was one of the songs on Damien’s fanmix from The Bright Sessions. And because The Bright Sessions suckerpunched me with feelings, I spent like a month straight listening to that mix and getting into that garbage man’s headspace. It was wonderful. xxi. daddy || emeli sande He's out your system yeah it took you a while You got your family back and you got your smile And you promised your sister that you'd never go back again I spent the better half of this year shipping Harringrove and Mark/Damien, which are both ships that are... well, not exactly the healthiest of relationships. Mark/Damien fucking ruined me. Listening to the last bit of The Bright Sessions was basically physically painful because like, okay. Logically I know that Damien is a garbage person. But also, he’s got a shitty power that would lead to some pretty interesting moral dilemmas even if you were a normal nice person (cough cough Mark), and like. They’re both so fucked up and Damien is so in love with Mark even if he’s not entirely sure how to be a fucking person and I have never had a pairing come after me as hard as this one did. Like it really came after me. Anyway, this was my true Damien/Mark anthem, because it’s fucking perfect and awful and fantastic and I just want them back in my life, guys.

xxii. paradise valley || honey and the sting In the past I lay out on the land Stretched my legs felt my chest expand If we could flow together someday Then we will float away

This here is my most played track of 2018. I first heard it during the special two hour episode of Wolf 359 and the whole end of that episode just blew my mind. So I immediately went to spotify, found it, and have basically listened to it all year since then. It helps that Nick loves it too, so every once in a while he’ll be playing it, which reminds me why I love it and just. It’s so soulful and beautiful.

xxiii. attila the king || nick glennie-smith instrumental

Yeah, I literally have no idea how this made it to the top 50 much less the top five, but apparently it did. It is really good writing music, but still.

xxiv. foolish || lauren shippen The impossible happens every day No matter what you do it won’t go away Don’t ask for more But then what are you waiting for

This was my year for podcasts - in one year I fell in love with Wolf 359, The Bright Sessions, and EOS 10 all over again when it came back for its third season. Near the end of the series though, The Bright Sessions did a musical episode! I listened to it in my car on my way to work and basically spent the entire freaking time smiling like an idiot. Truly my favorite episode. xxv. experience || ludovico einaudi instrumental

The Sense8 finale came out in June and it was absolutely wonderful. This song was playing during the last scene of the series and I fucking cried my eyes out. The song itself is fucking gorgeous, but what’s more is it made that last scene so much more than it would have been if they’d chosen any other song. It truly was, and forgive the corniness, a fucking experience. xxvi. singing in the rain || through juniper I'm singin' in the rain Just singin' in the rain What a glorious feeling I'm happy again I went through a phase in June-July where I checked out a bunch of old movies from the library. The first one was Philadelphia, because it was mentioned in the musical episode of The Bright Sessions and I just really wanted to watch it? But I also picked up Singing In The Rain, because I’d never seen it before and just, damn. I watched it before work and it was raining that day and the drive to work was the most fun because I just listened to different covers of the song and sang my heart out, and I was just so damn happy. It was dumb, and nice, and it probably going to be one of my happiest memories that I take with me into the new year. xxvii. hello stranger || barbara lewis Hello, stranger (ooh) It seems so good to see you back again How long has it been? (ooh, seems like a mighty long time)

I also watched Moonlight sometime in late June. It was one of those quiet nights where nothing really seems good enough, where you feel just a little bit empty inside and nothing is helping. So I watched the movie and read @notbecauseofvictories​‘s A Cornstalk Fiddle on my back porch afterwards and the movie combined with the fic and the music turned that quiet empty night into something just as quiet, but a million times more full. Another good memory from 2018 that’ll stay with me for awhile.

xxviii. end credits suite | nicholas britell instrumental From the end credits of Moonlight - I played both this and Hello Stranger on repeat while I finished up the fic I mentioned above.

xxix. ahead by a century | the tragically hip No dress rehearsal This is our life

I watched Anne With An E. I was sad a lot at the time, and got to a part early on in the second season that kind of lead me into an uncomfortable headspace so I actually still haven’t finished it? But it was really nice for awhile, and I hope to go back and finish it sometime.

xxx. achilles come down | gang of youths Just humour us, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof?

I’m not 100% sure where I found this song either? My gut reaction is that it was a song I found while I was reading either The Cruel Prince or The Goblin Emperor, but I’m not sure. Good song, though.

xxxi. without you | leslie odom jr. The earth turns The sun burns But I die Without you

Oh man, I found this cover one night while I was reading, and like, I was reading, so at first I didn’t really process what I was hearing, just that it was familiar and that I liked it. And then my brain connected the dots and I looked up and saw that it was a cover by Leslie Odom Jr and immediately restarted the song and just listened.

xxxii. natural | imagine dragons Deep inside me, I'm fading to black, I'm fading Took an oath by the blood of my hand, won't break it I can taste it, the end is upon us, I swear Yeah. I like Imagine Dragons. Honestly though - this one might not have made the cut if I hadn’t heard it a few months later on an EOS 10 playlist.

xxxiii. sky full of song | florence & the machine Grab me by my ankles I've been flying for too long I couldn't hide from the thunder In the sky full of song So, a while back there was that video going around where Florence literally sang this song while a storm started up around her, and like, that was the first time I heard this song? That was the first I heard that she even came out with a new album, so I basically sat down and listened to the whole thing, but this one was still my favorite.

xxxiv. broken people | logic & rag’n’bone man Broken we ain't beaten There's no glory in defeat We won't fall into the cracks between our streets

I uh, may have watched a couple fanvids after Infinity War. This was one of them.

xxxv. flesh and bone | black math Break the truth inside of me Climbed down to hell on the devil’s tree I clutched a branch of soot and flame The thought that rose, to scorch my feet

I walk alone Beside myself Nowhere to go

This was another.

xxxvi. nina cried power | hozier It's not the song, it is the singin' It's the heaven of the human spirit ringin' It is the bringin' of the line It is the bearin' of the lie It's not the wakin', it's the risin'

So last year Take Me To Church made it to my Top 38 or whatever I had it narrowed down to, mostly because I went through a Les Mis phase. But I kind of joked on that post last year about Hozier releasing an album next year and how unlikely it was, and lo, here we have it. Maybe not a full length album, but five new beautiful songs.

xxxvii. kol nidrey | the yuval ron ensemble Nidrana lo nidrei, V'essarana lo essarei Ush'vuatana lo shevuot. Maggie Stiefvater posted this song to her blog a couple months ago and I was really fond of it. It’s incredibly beautiful.

xxxviii. stronger | the score I do this with conviction I write truths and never fiction My disease is what you fed I can't stop with my ambition

Oh look, another Marvel fanvid.

xxxix. rise like a phoenix || conchita wurst I rise up to the sky You threw me down but I'm gonna fly So honestly, basically the rest of the mix are songs from Ryan’s OR mix which is an official EOS 10 playlist. It’s phenomenal, and I basically spent all of October and some of November getting stuck on various songs in the mix. xl. heroes || mars zelmerlow Don't tell the gods I left a mess I can't undo what has been done Let's run for cover

Yup. Giving me feels and also super catchy.

xli. cut to the feeling | carly rae jepson Ah, I wanna cut through the clouds, break the ceiling I wanna dance on the roof, you and me alone I wanna cut to the feeling, oh yeah Okay, but like - why did nobody tell me that Carly Rae Jepson had other songs and they were super fucking catchy? I spent the last few days of being a waitress driving to work blaring this and the last two songs and it did fucking wonders for my mood.

xlii. the greatest show | hugh jackman Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for (woah) Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor (woah) And buried in your bones there's an ache that you can't ignore Taking your breath, stealing your mind And all that was real is left behind

Breaking news, The Greatest Showman was amazing and I cried. I fucking missed hearing Hugh Jackman sing, and like the fucking lead up, of starting the movie with this song and then ENDING it with this song, with that performance, with those fucking lines (this is the moment you’ve waited for) - was so goddamn energizing. I just could not fucking deal.

xliii. the plains/bitter dancer | fleet foxes I should have known one day you would come All of us walk so blind in the sun Midnight feeder, beggar pleader

Okay, okay. So there's this playlist called Wet Black Leaves that I listened to a lot when I started my new job, throughout rainy October and November, everything was just a little too wet and a little too cold, and this whole mix is so atmospheric and gorgeous. I absolutely adore it.

xliv. always starting over | idina menzel Am I always Starting over? In a brand new story Am I always Back at one After all I've done?

The finale of Wolf 359 fucked everyone up, right? Yeah, obviously. Okay, well the final episode of season 3 of EOS 10 also fucked me right the hell up. Like we’re talking messy crying in the car on the way to your like second or third day at the new job. Anyway, I kind of spiraled and then I went back and listened to Ryan’s mix and found this song and just wanted to kick my heart around for awhile.

xlv. if i could turn back time | cher If I could reach the stars I'd give 'em all to you Then you'd love me, love me, like you used to do If I could turn back time MESSY CRYING. But like, I also really like this song. So MESSY CRYING and also screaming all these words as loudly as I can within the relatively safe confines of my car. I guarantee you that people next to me at stop lights thought that I’d gone through a messy breakup.

xlvi. new rules | dua lipa Three: Don't be his friend You know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning And if you're under him, you ain't gettin' over him Okay, but also some of the Ryan songs were catchy in a not heart breaking way, unless you think about the untold story of what exactly went on between Ryan and Akmazian and fill in the blanks and break your own heart.

xlvii. fernando | cher There was something in the air that night The stars were bright, Fernando They were shining there for you and me

Cher did an entire cover album of Abba songs in like, late October, I think? And like, my little gay heart fucking exploded and I listened to Cher singing ABBA songs for like three whole weeks and it was fucking fantastic. This... was actually not my favorite of the bunch until I went into a Barnes and Noble to pick up a copy of The Wise Man’s Fear and had a completely transformative experience when I heard it playing softly over the stacks.

xlviii. it’s quiet uptown | kelly clarkson If I could spare his life If I could trade his life for mine He’d be standing here right now And you would smile, and that would be enough

And after a brief detour into delightful cher/abba combinations we’re back to tragic EOS 10 songs. Additionally, I’m sick of Hamilton songs fucking me up. I get to see it in person in 2019 and I’m going to make a fool of myself when I cry my eyes out in front of Nick and our friends.

xlix. movement | hozier So move me, baby Shake like the bough of a willow tree You do it naturally

And just when I thought we were just going to get the four songs out of Hozier in 2018, we got this gem, which I think I like more than all the others.

l. seasons of love | rent cast Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes How do you measure the life Of a woman or a man?

I will never be over this song. I will never be over this musical. Merry Christmas, guys.

[novarasalas]

Second Look Review: Lion’s Pride 1 & 2

Part 1

So, this is it. The final battle for Earth. Everything that’s happened this season has been preparing us for this very moment.

I’m sweating, guys.

This is nonstop action. So many things are happening at once. So many bad things are happening to the protagonists at once.

I’ve heard the showrunners say several times now that this series is a call back to all the mecha shows from the past, and that’s it’s made for the fans of those shows. I’ve heard plenty of people talk about how nostalgic it makes them, and how it reminds them of watching the shows they used to love.

I was too young for the original run of Voltron, though, and I never really had access to other shows like Macross.

So, I understood in principle, but that same feeling didn’t hit me until these two episodes.

And now I'm’ going to talk about myself for a bit.

---

I can’t even tell you the feeling I was overcome with the first time I watched The Power Rangers. It’s 1993, I’ve been 7 years old for three days, it’s Saturday, and my mind has just been blown. I can’t tell you what it was about the show, but all I knew was that I wanted to be a Power Ranger very, very badly. I can’t, though. But at least I can make believe every Saturday morning.

Difficulty: I’m a girl. Girls aren’t supposed to like things like that. Martial arts, weapons, fighting? Inappropriate!

So, as my first act of rebellion, I became a wholly dedicated fan to this weirdly , edited-for-american-audiences sentai show.

I still have that guitar riff stuck in my head. It plays for me when I do things that my parents would find...unladylike.

So, from that day on, my love of mecha shows was on. My parents eventually relented, and I treasured the one action figure we could afford. It was the pink ranger, of course.

But I eventually grew out of my Power Rangers phase, and for years that love lay dormant. Sure, there were other shows out there, animated and live action, but I had no way of getting to them.

Then we got cable, which had Cartoon Network. And Cartoon Network had Toonami.

I was 13 years old, staying up past midnight to watch only-lightly-censored anime, and every night my mind was blown.

Gundam Wing was my drug of choice.

And if my parents hated me watching the Power Rangers, they absolutely despised me watching this.

Despite the protagonists all being 15 years old, Gundam Wing was a mature story. It told of the hells of war, sacrifice, desperation, politics, romance?, and so many other things. It was so very cool.

My parents eventually relented on this, too. I still have the models they bought me.

I was waaaaayyy too into Gundam Wing. I threw myself headlong into the fandom, consuming every fanwork I possibly could. I spent hours going through Geocities web rings trying to find worthwhile fanfiction and fan art (my fave pairing was 1x2, btw.)

Eventually, I came to realize: this show is actually kinda boring. there’s no humor in it. It just...wasn't interesting to me anymore. It was my thing for years, and then suddenly...I was over it.

But it still holds a special place in my heart.

And I told you all of that to tell you this:

The space battles in these episodes remind of of the finale of Gundam Wing.

I felt a good bit of nostalgia, something that doesn't hit me very often. It was nice.

And that nostalgia reminded me of my first rebellion, when I as a girl liked epic space battles and giant combining mechs and nothing was going to take that away from me.

In a way, I still feel like I’m rebelling. And you know what? Being bad still feels so good.

I’m happy to have this show.

- - -

Atlas, known in Greek mythology, held the Earth upon his shoulders. That’s the story these days, anyway. The original myth is that he held up the celestial spheres, in which the stars and planets resided. He’s holding it all up, is what I’m saying.

It’s very easy to see Shiro in all of this. He’s the leader of Earth’s forces, and is part of the last line of defense against Sendak. That’s a lot of responsibility. And he takes it all upon himself. He doesn’t hesitate to go to Sendak’s ship to disable it.

...could this guy be any more of a hero?

But we can’t forget about the ship Atlas, or it’s crew

This thing is a beast, and has no right being so powerful. And without the ship, and without the crew to maneuver it into position to block the cannons, the Earth would have been done for. They didn’t do this because Shiro ordered them to.

Shiro may be the face of the Atlas, but the ship would be nothing without it’s crew.

-

Back to Shiro now.

This fight he has with Sendak is...just insane. It’s so raw and personal, I almost felt like maybe I should avert my eyes.

But I won’t, for reasons.

Quick question: How are either of them surviving this fall? They’re on the outside of a ship thats falling through the atmosphere, without helmets, and fighting. It’s a sight to behold, for sure, but it’s a bit much.

I’ll let it go, thought, just like I’ll let go the fact that the falling ship hit terminal velocity and didn’t leave a 100 mile wide crater.

I have to ignore that, because Shiro is defeated. And then this happens:

Keith first killed the two pirates in the third episode, then Macidus in the sixth. Before that, none of the Paladins had been shown to kill anyone. I’m still sad about it, in a way. But...better Sendak, than Shiro.

This all seems very symbolic. Everyone seems to have their own ideas about what exactly it means.

In part, I would say this is another moment of Keith never giving up on Shiro. It’s not even about repaying his debt to him; you could argue that that debt was paid in full with interest a long time ago.

Keith knows how much Shiro has been hurt. From here on out, he’s going to make sure that no one ever hurts Shiro again.

As for people saying that Shiro should have been to one to kill Sendak….

I think that the less he has to fight, to kill, to call back those days in the arena, the more he can heal from the trauma of being The Champion.

- - -

So that’s dealt with. Sendak’s dead. Earth is safe.

How’s everyone feeling?

….ugh...stop that...lol.

Ok, whatever. Let’s go home.

Mmm..yeah. This may as well happen.

Part 2

This fight is really something.

First off, I couldn’t help but think that this mech looks like Livia sas Junius from Final Fantasy XIV.

Everything about this fight is terrifying and frustrating. They just won, and for the first time this season, too! And now they’re losing again.

We see now again what was proven in season 6: Voltron was once the most powerful thing in the universe. But time does this funny thing of marching on, and things tend to change along the way.

-

Speaking of changing…

Shiro experiences stress-induced-mech building.

This whole process is amazing. The animation, the music, the timing...everything! Paired with the fact that I had no idea this was going to happen, I was blown away.

And we have no idea how or why this is happening. Could it be the Castleship crystal they installed in the ship? Is it the gem powering his arm? Could it be both? We definitely get some centering shots on those two items as the transformation happens.

Before, we’d been told that the comet ore had be the catalyst for Voltron’s indescribable abilities. But the Atlas is made from Earth materials, save for the new crystal.

Is it Shiro himself?

We don’t know what’s really happening with him. From Haggar’s experiments on him, to being trapped within Voltron’s quintessence, to being pulled away from the Black Lion and placed into a new physical form, a lot of magical hoodoo voodoo has been happening to him.

And let’s not forget: Haggar was most likely using him, in someway, to enter Oriande.

So, why did the Atlas transform? Because Shiro. I don’t know why, or how, but it couldn’t have happened with anyone else.

And with this new creation, he’s going to save his friends. Or...he’ll try to.

Now, for as much as I love the concept of the Atlas, I have a bit of a complaint.

So, I’m watching this thing transform, and everything is light and wonder. And then..I saw it:

Shiro, probably: Fine! I’ll make my own Voltron! With blackjack! And hookers!

….

Have you ever been watching something and you feel all things at once?

That’s how I felt.

At first, it was like:

then I was like 

and then it was back to

Then I paused the show and did the dishes.

Friends, I hate to say this, but...I don’t like how the Atlas looks. At all.

That transformation sequence had me high on wonder, but when it finished, I crashed back down, hard.

No amount of “ooo she thicc” jokes are gonna save me on this one.

...look at it’s legs!

And what really gets me is that it threw me off so much, that I kinda checked out for the rest of the episode. That’s why these are the Second Look Reviews; because I was being too ridiculous the first time to appreciate them.

I’ve gotten over it at this point, but I was feeling an all consuming “what the hell did I just witness?” at the time.

--- -

Back to it, though.

Shiro transformed that whole damn ship on his own. He saw his friends in danger and he just...did that.

And it was enough to distract the enemy, but not enough.

Thankfully, Voltron was there to save the day.

And then…

Look, this was stressful. You know they’re going to make it; there’s another season left, for god’s sake! And Voltron, while dramatic and sometimes sad, is a hopeful story.

Our heroes can’t die, not now, not like this.

But they don’t know that.

The transition to the funeral, with the lions in the background, was a cruel, cruel fakeout. The emotion in Shiro’s voice here really made me think for a second that maybe they’d actual, ya know...done it.

But it’s ok.

Everyones ok.

And now, there’s the hope.

The entire universe is coming together to help the Paladins rebuild their home. The team has done so much for the universe, and have nearly sacrificed everything doing so (several times at this point).

This is the good ending. It’s happy, it’s uplifting.

It’s not ending.

---

In summary:

It’s all intense battles and wild nostalgia. These episodes were beautifully put together, from scripting to animation to voice acting.

But just when things were nice and understandable, we get more questions. Questions that I can only hope we get answers to.

Next up: I’ve got a review summary coming up. I’ll talk about my thoughts on this season, the series as a whole, and discuss a few things about next season.

And I took this screenshot

it doesn't have anything to do with my review, but I noticed that curl on the side of Lance’s face. It’s cute. I wanted to share.

[greetingsfromthebottomofthewell]

THE GALLERY OF HENRI BEAUCHAMP

[source] [triggers]

before doing a bit of research before posting it, i had no idea that a “green fairy” had anything to do with alcohol. i just thought that was interesting.

If you go into this one tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, and the right bartender is behind the counter that night, you might be able to see a very exclusive gallery show of the lost works of one Henri Beauchamp. But, to get in, you have to prove you're a devotee of the artist.

You'll be asked, in clear and perfect English, "What would like to partake of this glorious night?" Answer "absinthe", no matter what. Any other drink, from whiskey to water, will kill you as you sleep.

The next question will regard the type, and you MUST answer one of two things: "The stuff that Man himself could not bear to take," or, "The good stuff. The best stuff." If you ask for any other absinthe, in any other way, you will be plagued by nightmares for 13 days. Each night's dream will be more horrible than the last, until, upon the thirteenth dream, your nightmare will follow you, every moment of your waking and sleeping life.

Don't try and cheat the barkeep: the door locked behind you. You have to drink what he gives you, doom or not. That such a powerful man granted you audience should be enough. Besides, I've heard that the dying complimented his drinks in their death throes.

If you make it that far before sealing your fate, the bartender will say, "Be sure you handle this with care; this is the finest I have." From here, you may do one of two things: Say, word for word, "I overestimated my fortitude, and I bid you good eve." If the barkeep nods, you may leave the door you entered, unharmed and with nothing gained and nothing lost (except the time spent inside).

Or you can go on.

You will be given a glass with a seven-sided rim, with each side twisting ever so delicately around the basin until forming a sleek and simple handle. You will also receive a very, very, very special absinthe spoon, in the shape of a key; the holes at the key's top serve as the draining point for the alcohol to pour over the sugar cube. And, of course, an unmarked bottle, stripped long ago of its label, scraps of paper sticking to its sides, covered in the rot of the decades past.

The spoon is completely flat, but has two distinct sides: one with a groove along the shaft of the key, and one without. Turn the shaft down, so its groove will be face down. If you attempt this face up, your absinthe will taste foul, your nose will burn, and your eyes will shrivel in their sockets with unspeakable horrors not of this world.

Now, if your spoon is the right way up, begin preparing the absinthe as one would (put the sugar on the spoon, and pour the alcohol over so it gains its color and "special qualities").

Say "cheers" to your friend, the barkeep, and bottoms up. If you don't, the absinthe will burn every innard it touches with the power and pain of sulfuric acid.

If you've done it right, the already dim lights will go off, and darkness will consume the bar. Don't be afraid; the darkness is the cue that you've been approved for the exhibit. Wait out the darkness, and keep silent as the dead, lest the bartender decide to make you so.

Eventually (not too long, two to three minutes), a green floodlight will shine brightly on a door on the far wall of the bar. The bar will be bathed in green, and not just from the floodlight. Little luminescent spheres will gently drift through the room, and the barkeep will no longer be there...nor any other unassuming patron inside before.

There's no danger by this point...consider it a safe point. If you didn't finish the absinthe, you don't have to, but you might need the alcohol. Either way, take the spoon and put it in the keyhole of the green-lit portal's doorknob. It will fit perfectly, and reach the end of the keyhole with a resounding click.

Inside is a small elevator, with the most beautiful woman any mortal eyes can imagine, bathed in the green glow in just such an angle that the light refracts beyond her into the shape of wings.

The Green Fairy herself will ask you, "Going up?”, and considering all the trouble you went through, it would only make sense to say yes.

Now, you have one more hurdle to clear. She will ask you, as you cross the line from the bar to the compartment, "How would you compare Beauchamp's surrealism to that of, say, René Magritte?" For your reply, you must say, "I've come to see more than art tonight."

If you don't, the green floodlight will blow out, the doors will slam shut, and the elevator will plummet through a seemingly infinite blackness before a red light grows brighter as the elevator nears the very depths of Hell.

Now, if your elevator begins to go up, the green light will also fade, but in its place will be the cool glow of the moon. But, before you even recognize it, the elevator will reach the top of its...well, let's call it a shaft to not get too intricate.

Now, I'm not as sure about this as the rest, but I've heard that, if the Green Fairy kisses you on the cheek as she leaves the elevator, you will always be blessed with a creative inspiration: a permanent, ever-changing muse. You can't ask her, you can't kiss her; she has to do it of her own volition. If not...well, nothing, but no reason to do it anyway and anger the woman who is responsible for keeping the Beauchamp paintings safe for so many years.

You will enter, from the elevator, a turn-of-the-century parlor, with a large poster of Henri Beauchamp on the left side of the opposite wall; on the right is a door.

Taking the time to read the poster is a fairly good idea, as it explains the very significance of Monsieur Beauchamp. You see, he was a struggling surrealist in the 1920's, always making art to try to be free of all premeditation, and managed to do so. You see, after one night in a tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, he began to paint...patterns.

First it was geometric patterns. Then complete fractals. Then images that would be in the newspaper the next day. Then next week. Then from fifty years ago. One hundred years in the future, two hundred years in the past...

Then, on his last night of life, he kidnapped three young girls from their homes at night, murdered them, and painted his finest masterpieces in reds and yellows with the blood and bile of virgins.

He committed suicide immediately after painting exactly 13 of these.

These are behind the door.

The first six, from the left, show, from left to right: the genesis of the universe, the only true visage of God as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Jesus Christ, the sprawling clouds of Heaven, every Pope from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of Jesus' appearance in his Second Coming.

The other six, on the right, show, from right to left: the cataclysm of the universe, the only true visage of Satan as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Judas, the sprawling flames of Hell, every human-embodied demon from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of the Antichrist in his Second Coming.

Now, six and six makes twelve. But what of the thirteenth?

This thirteenth painting is turned around on its wall pin, the image facing the wall. The space around it is roped up at a very wide diameter, and under the flipped image is a sign, in three languages. The top is in the scriptures of the Seraphim, the bottom in the runes of the highest demonic orders, and in the middle, in Roman letters.

DO

NOT

TOUCH

Now, like the kiss, I can't say this part with as much certainty, but all the same...I heard that, somehow, as he died, Beauchamp flayed his skin, his organs, his very soul, into some sort of collage. How he took his dead body and created such a horrific masterpiece, I could never say, nor would I ever dare to.

So...if you make it, maybe you can flip the canvas over and tell me sometime? You can tell me about it over a drink.