#i legit thought it was a lost cause.. i thought it was a dead link THIS WHOLE TIME😭😭😭😭

[badnewswhatsleft]

i pulled the video of patrick's songwriting sessions with before you exit from here so noone has to deal with weird mercurial links anymore

i also put it here if anyone wants to download for keeps :3 because look at him!!

[doahaesunshine]

Chapter 12

Chapter WC: 2576

Tags

The frog, the frog, the frog.

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July 15

Twenty-eight weeks and two days…

Any sane individual would have given up and moved on by now, but Seungcheol’s sanity was slipping. He would never admit that his determination had bordered on full blown paranoia and it didn’t go unnoticed. 

It started back in January when he refused to attend the funeral. He didn’t see a point in seeing an empty casket get lowered into the ground, even if his family begged him. They meant well – and Seungcheol knew this – but no amount of closure or peace was going to stop him from searching.

After he had confronted his friend’s father about staging a suicide, Seungcheol was filled with endless questions. First of all, why was the father okay with staging the scene? Next, why was there no body? And finally, what the fuck does ‘you don’t understand the forces at play’ mean?

The majority of Seungcheol’s free time was spent scrounging up any information at the town library. He started practical, digging up every missing persons case in town via the library’s digital scanners, but the only person in the local news was Seokmin Lee, the first friend he lost. Another article mentioned an unusual earthquake that nearly wiped out the town, the natural disaster causing the river’s current to shift and strengthen.

Seungcheol turned away from the scanners and moved onto the computers. The public databases would offer more than local news. Missing persons cases were plentiful, but  the added detail of it being on Christmas Eve helped narrow it down greatly. Four years ago in New York, a young man by the name of Vernon Chwe went missing in the city. His little sister said that he went to hang out with some friends and he never came back home. The poor family thought he ran away, he was only 21.

On the other coast there was an incident in Los Angeles, California that took place on Christmas Eve 2014. A married couple were found dead in their estate; they had a son, Joshua Hong, but his body was never found. The police concluded that it was a robbery gone wrong and the family suffered because of it, none of the suspects were found guilty. 

There were a few other missing persons during the month, but reports the day of Christmas Eve only happened every two years. Seungcheol saw a pattern the more he researched, the only problem was what he was going to do with that information. They were all freak accidents or people disappearing into thin air. He had a foolish thought, one that would end up in nothing, but his curiosity had to be satisfied.

Seungcheol opened up a new tab and searched local urban legends. The first link was a forum dedicated to his small town, but everyone had an online tag or was anonymous so none of the names were familiar. 

its.ya.boi.19 : Some people said they’ve seen a woman walking on the bridge alone at night. They said she dresses in all white and lures any men that come across her. I think she drowns them… Hi~Welcome2Chilis : I heard it was a man Dr.Pepe : Sounds like bullshit ur.mom.rated.E.4.everyone : I think its legit. I saw something on the bridge at midnight. But it didn’t look like a person… Dr.Pepe : That’s so stupid. ur.mom.rated.E.4.everyone : No! Think about it! MERMAIDS Hi~Welcome2Chilis : It’s a river… the_G.O.A.T_69 : i mean times are changing. what if they moved to the rivers because of pollution??? Dr.Pepe : Do you proofread your posts? the_G.O.A.T_69 : i don’t need to “proofread” and i believe the guy. you ever hear of sirens?

Mermaids? Sirens? What even was a siren?

Seungcheol returned to the search bar and typed in: What is a siren?

He pulled up the Wikipedia page and read through it.

In Greek Mythology, a Siren is a human-like being with an alluring voice. Old stories tell of Sirens luring sailors to their deaths by attracting them with the Siren’s song. Sailors became enthralled, steering their ships onto rocky shores resulting in a shipwreck and the crew's demise.

A mythological creature? Ghosts were one thing, but fish people who lured humans to their death by singing? Inconceivable.

So here Seungcheol was, walking along the bridge at nearly midnight, waiting to see if anyone would show up. The fairy lights were gone, only the dull yellow street lamps lit the path, making it difficult to see out into the water. A chilled breeze blew past Seungcheol causing a shiver to go down his spine, he should have worn a coat.

He stopped in the middle of the bridge and checked his phone, the time was midnight on the dot. Lifting his head from the device he looked around, scanning the area to see if anyone had appeared. Nobody was here but him, not surprising…

Sighing deeply, he grasped onto the railing of the bridge and looked out into the dark, murky water. He chuckled at his own stupidity.

“God, I’m an idiot… Maybe I really have tipped over the edge.”

He stretched his back and with an exhale, he stood up straight from the railing. A big yawn escaped him, strong enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut and when he opened them, he saw a figure. He blinked his eyes in disbelief, but no matter how many times he closed and reopened his eyes, the figure was still there. Seungcheol was no longer alone on this bridge.

Just as the forum described, a woman, or man, Seungcheol couldn’t tell from this distance, wearing all white. At first he thought the person was wearing a sheer outfit, but as he focused on the figure he saw that their legs faded into nothing. A ghost. Great, this is exactly what he needed right now.

Slowly, Seungcheol approached them, not wanting to scare the spirit. As he approached the figure, more details came into view. Their hair was a dark blue, almost black and their skin was fair with a slight glimmer, but that could be from the fact that this person was see through. Once Seungcheol was within reaching distance, the white cloaked figure gracefully turned their head to him. 

They were beautiful. Long, elegant features were perfectly sculpted, creating a face that anyone would be charmed by. Their eyes were a deep blue, akin to the midnight sky and Seungcheol found himself getting lost for a moment. 

“You can see me?”

The figure’s lips did not move but a calmly, modulated voice eased into Seungcheol’s mind. He flinched as it breached his senses but he stood his ground.

“Am I not supposed to?” Seungcheol asked, not knowing what else to say.

The spirit mildly smiled as a small laugh rang through.

“That means I was successful…”

Seungcheol cocked a brow at the statement. “Successful? What do you mean by that?

“I wished to communicate with this side of things and here I am.”

As amazing as this interaction was, and even though Seungcheol was thoroughly enthralled by this individual, he knew gawking wasn’t going to get him any answers. 

“I want to ask you something…”

There was no response, but the spirit gave Seungcheol their full attention.

“Are you a Siren?”

Another laugh bled its way into Seungcheol’s mind.

“No, I am not a Siren… I am a Diviner.”

“You’re saying that as if I know what you are talking about-”

“All of you humans have such a funny way of speaking. You sound just like the others.”

“Others?” Seungcheol’s interest was piqued, but he was so confused and didn’t have any idea what was going on or why this was happening.

“This river must have some sort of connection to the Arcane. It keeps pulling people in and the Weave led me here.”

“Arcane. Weave. Things I do not know. Please speak in words I understand…”

Another pleasant smile spread across their delicate features. 

“You really do talk just like them…”

Seungcheol huffed out a deep sigh. “Please stop being so cryptic. I came here looking for answers about my friends. If you know so many humans then maybe you know Seokmin or Y/N. Those names ring any bells?”

The spirit’s face softened, their eyes turned solemn and their smile disappeared. Anyone would be able to read that expression, this Diviner knew something.

“If you know something, please tell me. Both of them are my friends, my family .”

“Oh-” The raven haired figure turned their gaze away. “You must be Cheolie…”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, tears threatening to fall as he furrowed his brow. “How-” His throat started to constrict as the tears started streaming. “How do you know that name- My name?”

The spirit gingerly reached out to Seungcheol, but flinched as something else caught their attention.

“Shit…” They said under their breath. “I have to go now- Return to this spot when the moon is full. I’ll have more time then- I promise.” Their image began to flicker.

“Wait! The next full moon- I don’t even know your name!”

“It’s Minghao…”

After the name was uttered, the image of the white-clad spirit dissipated and Seungcheol was left with hundreds of questions. If he was being honest with himself he didn’t even believe that any of that really happened. A ghost on the bridge? That could not have been real, but the spirit, Minghao, spoke to him. 

Seungcheol looked up at the night sky to gaze upon the moon. It was crescent shaped, but it was only a sliver. He unlocked his phone quickly and went to the browser search bar and typed: When is the next full moon?

The phone screen read August 1st.

On the bright side, he had sixteen days to compile a list of questions. But holy shit sixteen days seemed so long when you had to wait on someone else's behalf.

Morning approached faster than Seungcheol expected, the insomnia stunting his sleep and causing him to stay up countless nights. In total he slept two hours last night and was suffering, but it was nothing coffee couldn’t help. Besides he was on a mission and it started with meeting up with his friend’s father.

There was a local old-fashioned diner that served breakfast, Seungcheol decided that if he was going to bombard his friend’s father with questions, he may as well treat him to good food. Thankfully, the diner was mostly empty, save for a few regulars and the occasional commuter looking for a quick cup of coffee.

Sitting by the window, Seungcheol observed the people passing by on the street while spacing out. The past few interactions with his friend’s father had been strained to say the least. There were so many questions in Seungcheol’s mind already and the added confusion of ‘ You don’t understand the forces at play’ made his head hurt. The last time Seungcheol saw the man he was told to ‘not go looking for trouble’ but Seungcheol was a magnet for trouble. Being the oldest of his former friend group, he was in charge of keeping the others out of trouble but that meant he knew where to find it as well.

“How’s it going, kid?” The usually chipper voice of his friend’s fathers voice was now somber.

“I’m doing fine…” 

A long sigh left the man’s lips. “You don’t have to lie to me, Cheol.”

Silence filled the space between the two men, the only words spoken were their orders and nothing else. When the food was served, the waitress could tell the tension was high so after placing the dishes down she bolted. Eating was easier than talking, especially when the food was good.

“I know you didn’t invite me out for breakfast, Cheol…”

Seungcheol looked up from his plate. “I’m not trying to hide that fact.” He placed his fork down to sip from his coffee. “I just want to know what happened…” Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “I know they didn’t kill themself…”

There was a moment of pause. “Seungcheol…”

“Please just tell me the reason…” Seungcheol’s round eyes welled with tears, but he refused to let them fall.

“I wish I could, I really do.” Even their father’s eyes reddened. “But I can’t.”

Every time Seungcheol asked his friend’s father the same question, he was given various versions of the same answer. It was always a ‘I can’t tell you’ or ‘You don’t want to know’. He was never given a straight answer.

“Please, you’re basically my father and Y/N is like a sibling to me. I need to know-” Seungcheol choked on his words. “Why did you stage a suicide? Why was the casket empty? Why am I seeing apparitions in the middle of the night telling me they saw Y/N?”

“What did you just say?”

“Ghosts, man. I’m seeing fucking ghosts!” Seungcheol raised his voice and a few of the customers turned their heads to spectate his rambling. “I swear I’m fucking losing it-”

“Cheol, stop.” The father that Seungcheol considered his own met his gaze. “Go wait outside, let me pay the bill.”

“But-”

“Just- Go cool off.”

Seungcheol obeyed the older man and walked outside while he wiped his tears away with shaky hands. He inhaled deeply and exhaled the breath after holding it for a moment, his heart was out of control. 

The door opened once more. “C’mon, Cheol- Let’s walk and talk…”

Walking side by side, the two men followed the road to the bridge. It was still morning so the lamps were off and the overall atmosphere was different. Instead of deep, dark water that seemed to have no end, the river was slightly murky with fish visible just below the surface. 

“Is this where you saw him?”

Seungcheol turned his attention away from the water. “Huh-”

“The apparition or ghost - is this where you saw him?”

Answering with a nod, Seungcheol took another moment to breathe. “Yeah- I didn’t just see him though, we talked.”

The older gentleman sighed and massaged the wrinkle out of his knit eyebrows. “I was really hoping to keep you out of this just like I did for my child. I tried hard to be a good father, I really did, but the others kept ruining it.”

“Others? The ghost I spoke to? Or is there more than one?”

“Cheol, he wasn’t a ghost, he was an-” His sentence was halted. “He- Ming-” Blood trickled from his nose as he struggled to speak. “Shit- After all these years…”

Seungcheol held onto the older man’s arm to support him. “Hey- Are you alright?”

“Yeah- There are just somethings I can’t talk about or else this happens.” He pointed to his nose.

“I know who you are talking about. Minghao, right? He called himself a Diviner .” Seungcheol rambled everything he remembered from the previous night.

“I physically can’t answer your questions, Cheol- All I can tell you is that if you want to continue searching, be careful.”

After a quick nod, Seungcheol helped the older man to his car and paid him back for the meal even after arguing. He watched as the older man drove off to ensure he got onto the road safely and once the car was out of sight, he entered on his own.

“Great, more questions…” Seungcheol muttered to himself before putting the keys in the ignition and starting the car.

To join a tag list, please comment on the Fallin' Flower Master List!

@reiofsuns2001 @shinwonderful @starstrawb

[jaybutnotthebird]

SOMEONE wrote a fanfiction that starts with Rocky’s death and now I can’t shake the image of him lying inmovile in a pool of blood

this morning I cried, legit teared up while wondering my apartment thinking of this nonexistant cat who isn’t even dead in canon

I keep thinking of Freckle and Ivy reacting to it, just like my own sona, who, mind you, doesen’t exist in that fanfiction, but still NOW I have a headcanon for how they would go about the burial and everything

so, um, thanks Aveen (they don’t have a tumblr but here’s the link)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47728090/chapters/120311308

oh and here’s my own sona’s reaction ‘cause god dammit I NEED TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM!!

(sorry if it seems a little too dramatic or cheesy I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR)

As if Mitzy didn't have too many things on her mind, now she was even shorter on staff. That was without taking the grief into consideration. She sat at Atlas', now her chair in the study, with her late husband's portrait hanging behind her, in silence. She was supposed to make numbers but at the moment she couldn't push herself to. She needed a drink, or a few first.

There was a knock on the door

"well?" she asked, and the door opened, revealing the familiar image of a fluffy black cat with orange patches. The poor thing looked even more dishelved than her

"Jasper, honey. What can I do for you?"

"I just..." Jasper's voice sounded uncaracteristically tired, alienating him even more from his usual shelf

"I just wanted to take care of Rocky's funeral, and leting you know mam. I will be paying for it and everything"

She pinched her brow and sighed

"yes, thank you dear"

"um, the whole thing will probably happen very fast... would you like to come to the burial?"

"no, well, I don't think so. Do tell me where it is and I'll bring him flowers, will you, dear?"

"yes, Miss M. Thank you"

before he closed the door behind him, he asked again

"do you know where I can find Freckle?"

"mh? Oh, he was wondering arround like a lost soul"

"right, thank you"

Jasper didn't need to search too far. He came downstairs and found Freckle moping the spot where Rocky had died. He came up to him

"Freckle?"

"please, don't-"

"sorry, Calvin. Um... may I speak to you for a moment?"

Calving looked up at him. It was Rocky's friend, that is, his best friend. Allways listening to his nonesense, laughting his jokes, telling him to be carefull.

Being allways by his side, he had seemed bigger, stronger, taller... now the black cat seemed small, his fur all messed, his shirt crumpled and slightly opened, sleeves rolled up... and a couple smudges of blood still on it. The tom's green eyes where still wet and tired and he was fidgeting with his signature cap.

His whole demeanor and body languaje was defleated, oposit to his usual boustering energy

"I was thinking about the burial... If you don't mind, I will take care of it. Make it sound like an accident and all"

Calvin hadn't even thought of it. He thought they would just get rid of the body and let his aunt think Rocky had wandered off after losing another job.

"I would pay for it. I have enough saved... just... would you mind helping me take him upstairs or do you prefer I ask someone else?"

Calvin didn't think for a moment

"I'll do it"

Jasper had been at the speakeasy when it happened. He couldn't believe it. One moment he was sitting at his favourite spot, confy, reading with a glass of something sweet and Rocky was wandering arround the speakeasy cheerful as allways... the next there where a couple loud noises and chaos errupted. By the time he looked up from behind the booth and focused his sight on the figure lying on the floor it was already over.

You do not know vertigo until someone you love is in danger. The sensation of a sudden void in your stomach. The panic, as no matter how much you call out and press on the wound and cry for help and say 'no' there's nothing you can do.

He had tried to reanimate Rocky's body. He had cried over him and prayed for him not to go. He had felt numb and lost track of time. Then, he had stood on wobbly legs as people passed arround him and went to get another drink.

Some members of the speakeasy went upstairs, Freckle came down. He stood there, in the room, not taking his eyes of Rocky's body like one watches over something precious that may get stolen

tho it had been taken already. It was like he didn't want anymore damage to come to him.

With the help of Viktor, he had lifted the body and placed it on a mat to drag him off sight, and placed his handkerchief over his face to avoid the sight of his lifeless expresion, open eyes, broken skull

now, Ivy went ahead to open the latch door and the back of the truck as he and Calvin carried the mat with his body upstairs, and drove to the funeral home.

On the way there, in between monstruous silences he told Calvin what he had seen and got the details the doctor was able to discern from the autopsy

The family that worked the funeral home didn't seem very afected by the passing of Rocky. No even surprised. Jasper supposed it was normal given the nature of both their bushiness and Rocky's. He dictated a nice lie for the forged papers as two of them carried the body inside

"he was taking a walk by the river at dusk. Despite his friend's advice, he climbed on the side of the bridge and started playing the violin, riming and dancing as he often did. He did not see or hear the train coming and no one could warn him before he slept and fell. By the time his friends got to the bottom of the hill, he was already dead.

He leaves behind an aunt, a cousin who's more like a brother, a missing father and many friends and coworkers who will dearly miss him"

Jasper's voice had long started to break by the time he got to the last lines. His eyes started watering again

"that much is true"

a final line was aded to the obituary 'he died doing what he loved' say's his devastated friend, 'he was always an artist and a free soul'

after a short while, the lady and her husband ofered the three mourning parties one last goodbye before they nailed the casket close.

"my" said Jasper "you did a good job"

With his fur cleaned and brushed and the wounds carefully knitted, with the solemn pose his body was on, the only telling sign of his death was how still he laid.

Calvin stood for a few moments next to the casket, carassing his now cold hand in a short of reasurance

"I will find whoever did this" he said "I promise" he engraved in his mind the last sight he would have of the boy he grew up with, who, tho wayward, had allways looked out for him. Tho misgided, he had allways sought to cheer him up, find him a job, edge him on with Ivy...

Ivy, who couldn't look at the body without tearing up, and just waited for Calvin to come next to her to hold onto his arm.

Jasper stood next to the casket when his turn came

should he memorice this moment? Or better remember him as he was in life? Should he pretend for a second that Rocky was just asleep, or would that be worse? Should he say something?

He followed his instincts and just bent over to place a silent kiss on his brow.

they brought him to the same cementary near the river where no one would bother to check the dates, and they all took turns digging and burying the casquet.

When it was over Ivy and Calvin turned arround to see Jasper had crumbled down and sobbing on the ground. "I... I cared for him so deeply, I loved him! I loved him so much!" The priest and his brother walked up to the car in respectful silence, but Jasper gestured for Calvin "I need you to know... I need to confess this to someone" Calvin's whole demeanor shifted. He crouched down right next to him, looking like a tiger about to strike "Confess what?" "...I loved him. You don't understand... I loved him the way a man loves a woman" Calvin's ears tilted back. Ivy's expresion went shocked, but they stood still as the cat in shambles continued "I know it's frowned upon, and forbidden and so... But I couldn't help it. I loved him! Just the way he was... I wanted him to be happy. I wanted to make him happy! I wanted to look into his eyes and listen to him everyday for the rest of my life!" He dissolved into uncontrolable sobbing. Ivy and Calvin didn't know what to do

"I... have heared horror stories of what people do to people like us. You think... this is why...?"

Calvin's fur bristled slightly at the idea. It was a possibility, tho he didn't think it was the case: had it been a pasion related crime, the spitefull bullet would have gone to the groin, not the throat.

...but it was still possible fuel to the hatred that led to his cousin's death

"did anyone else know? Did you tell anyone?"

"no! I told him it was dangerous, I told him a thousand times no one could ever know! We were so carefull... whenever we even kissed it was allways in a dark tunnel or something... and we would stop if we heared anyone coming near, we-we didn't even hold hands in public! We were so careful I swear!"

Calvin didn't have much time to process the fact that Jasper just admitted to not only love Rocky romantically, but also to being intimate with him on more than one ocasion. He brushed that thought aside. After all, this was just one more questionable oddity his cousin did on a daily basis without batling an eyelash. He concentrated on the lead

"was he careful? Maybe he told someone, did you ever have any close calls?"

"I don't think so? I don't know! Maybe he did let it slip, maybe it was too ovbious for someone at the speakeasy? ...look, I shouldn't tell you but I think Zib might have known"

"Zib?" asked Ivy

"yes... I think he... well... he swings the same way?"

Calvin took another deep breath. Behind him, Ivy was still recalculating

"I just... I can't believe... that I will grow old, and look back... and remember him. And he will not be there"

he pressed a hand against his face, messing even further his hair

"there'll be no music in my life"

Calvin wondered if his cousin would go to hell, as his mother would suggest, or follow irish tradition and play the violin at crossroads. It sounded like him. He imagined his music echoing throu the dark tunnels of the speakeasy for years to come

"if you do find the guy... do let me know ok? I want to know why"

"I promise"

"thanks. You guys can go now, I'd like to be alone"

And so they did. On the way back from the funeral house, Calvin felt Ivy's hand on his

"can you imagine? Not being able to hold hands?" "well, they seemed happy"

"yeah..."

Ivy leaned onto his shoulder

"they did"

Throug the next few days Jasper would only play his little ocarina when it was quiet and there wasn't many people arround. They were allways slow, melancolic tunes that added to the gloomy hambient. He would then hold the piece to his chest and close his eyes, and breathe.

Then Calvin came back to talk to him, to let him know he had caught the murderer, and made justice by his own hand. He told him why and how the man had taken Rocky's life and Jasper thanked him.

He imagined what he would have done if he had a chance at the guy before Calvin killed him, or if he had known last time he saw the bastard. He imagined himself tackling him to the ground and beating the shit out of him and clawing at his face until he was tired. Then, strangling him with his own hands.

He visited the place where the man's body was disposed. Called out to him, peed on the spot and said "I hope you choke on that. You were lucky I didn't get a chance at you"

After that, Jasper became the newest lackadaisy rumrunner, every bit as reckless as Rocky had been, only less cheerful. Rumor arround was anyday now he would get himself killed, and perhaps that was his intencion.

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 35 BRAN V (pages 469-476)

Bran realises Jojen's party trick is actually legit, and tries to warn people about the oncoming flood. Tries, being the operative word.

-

Maester Luwin sent Alebelly away and closed his door. "My lords," he said gravely, "we have had a message from His Grace, with both good news and ill. He has wona great victory in the west, shattering a Lannister army at a place called Oxcross, and has taken several castles as well. He writes us from Ashemark, formerly the stronghold of House Marbrand." ... "Sadly, no victory is without cost." Maester Luwin turned to the Walders. "My lords, your uncle Ser Stevron Frey was among those who lost their lives at Oxcross. He took a wound in the battle, Robb writes. It was not thought to be serious, but three days later he died in his tent, asleep." ... Bran got a sick feeling in his belly. They like the taste of this dish better than I do.

Yep, straight into Jojen's prophecy and we see how metaphorical it was. (I was right, yay!) I do like that this series has that solid set symbolism in place, largely to do with the house sigils, that means the prophetic stuff makes more sense, has a definitive answer, but there's still the leeway in it that Jojen's prophecies are different to Mel's prophecies are different to ancient prophecies and so on.

"I dreamed the sea was lapping all around Winterfell. I saw black waves crashing against the gates and towers, and then the salt water came flowing over the walls and filled the castle. Drowned men were floating in the yard. When I first dreamed the dream, back at Greywater, I did not know their faces, but now I do. That Alebelly is one, the guard who called our names at the feast. Your septon's another. Your smith as well." "Mikken?" Bran was as confused as he was dismayed. "But the sea is hundreds and hundreds of leagues away, and Winterfell's walls are so high the water couldn't get in even if it did come."

No, come on Bran, we have to work the metaphor. It wasn't literal food, it was information, it's not the literal sea, it's a threat that comes from the sea and is strongly linked with it. It's not a flood, it's the walls of Winterfell being breached by the enemy in some manner.

Also, if you notice: Jojen says 'black waves' which, yes his vision is at night, but I would like to just point out, the Greyjoy sigil is a golden kraken on a black field, or, being an ocean creature, a black sea? (This is a lot easier to work out when I already have the whole answer, but that there is that internal logic to follow, is still fun... oh my gosh, you know who would probably have been really good at interpreting the metaphor dreams if she tried? Sansa. the big nerd, it has cropped up several times, mostly in Arya's chapters iirc, "saw a sigil, no clue who it is. Sansa would know, she's into that stuff.")

"Unless you open your eye." He put two fingers together and poked Bran in the forehead, hard. When he raised his hand to the spot, Bran felt only unbroken skin. There way no eye, not even a closed one. "How can I open it if it's not there?" "You will never find it with your fingers, Bran. You must search with your heart."

Don't do it, don't do it, don't don't do-

🎶Close your eyes, 🦋 and open your heart💖 💖Believe in yourself, 🎶cause that's how it starts🦋 🦋Dreams will come true,💖 just wait and see🎶 🎶Cause the magic's in you, 🦋 and the magic's in meee 💖

...ahem, moving on.

Oh shit! Lady Hornwood! She deserved better. (the real name of this series.)

The bastard himself was dead, -

Sadly, no. (Fake News!)

"The things that I see in my green dreams can't be changed."

Well, yeah, but that's because you typically lack the context to understand fully what it is you're being forewarned about, and the power, resources, and faith/co-operation from the people around you to affect meaningful change.

I would be interested to know the timeline of Jojen's dreams, when does he get them, is it after the choices that will lead to that point have been made? Actively in the waking world made?

Cause like on the one hand: "all my choices have lead me here" what you chose is already chosen based on the person you are, you just haven't gotten to the choice yet, so the world shaped you into someone who was always going to make *that* choice therefore the choice was always made so this was always the outcome

But on the other hand: Alice from Twilight. Her visions don't occur until the choice that causes the consequences has been made, actively in real time, they're reactive.

And then on the other other hand: Battlestar Galactica Theory, "all this has happened before, and all this will happen again." Jojen's not seeing the future, they're trapped in a story loop that ends and restarts over millennia, different actors in the same few roles retelling the same story with out knowing, only set dressing differences, Jojen's seeing the past, the story beats that happen over and over and over.

where were we? Ah, yes. No one listens to the boys who see stuff without context.

"I dreamed of the man who came today, the one they call Reek. You and your brother lay dead at his feet, and he was skinning off your faces with a long red blade."

And we know what this one's about... hey, just real quick, in the House of Black and White, do they skin faces off with a long red knife? I just think that would be a fun tie back in to the whole identity and the dead vibes going on.

I can't remember if the face skinning was a show invention, or if it had a book basis.

"It will not matter. The dream was green, Bran, and the green dreams do not lie."

I feel like Jojen isn't even trying to understand his dreams, or caring that they are clearly a metaphor, but I suppose he's probably very tired of it all. Might explain why he's so blase about dying, even aside from knowing his death day.

-

Oh, just btw, tomorrow's our "half way through the physical book" cheat/rest day.

[insomniamamma]

Rain: Ezra X F!Reader w/Cee

A/N: Prickle ‘verse. Takes place after Prickle but before Clean Dirt. Can be read as a one shot. Reader is established crew with Ezra and Cee. This was written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer Wednesday. I am woefully behind. I legit don’t understand how some of you write fics so fast!

Warnings: Mentions of war, a little bit of angst, but mostly gentle fluff. Feelings.

            "Hey, Ez," Ezra is engrossed in grading the latest haul, testing for clarity and hardness.  The surface of CJ's World is cut through with oxbow rivers, fantastic hoodoos of striated sandstone slashed with valleys deeper than any found in Sol system. You're digging for fossils. These rusty carved out plateaus were once the bed of an ancient ocean. Through some trickery of mineralization and chemistry the fossils of CJ's world shine like the fire opals of Old Terra. Big or small, they all have value.           "Ezra," says Cee, "She's doing it again."           "Doing what, birdie?" Ezra takes off the loupe and rubs at his eyes. Rain pelts on the tent, even sheltered the humidity soaks through.           "Look." Ezra draws open the tent flap and sees you, standing in the rain, your head tilted up, no gentle shower this, rain that pelts down hard, turns the view across the sharp-cut canyons to silver curtains. Your clothes are plastered to you like a second skin. The rain actually aids your cause, washing away loose sediment, making the fossils easier to get to. You bow your head and let the stinging rain hit the back of your neck, let it fall on your closed eyes, your outspread arms. You laugh at the sky.

           "What do you know about Falnost?" Cee's eyes go distant for a beat. She has a memory to rival Central computers.

           "Hmmm..about two thirds standard grav, class C5, would've rated lower if not for it's primary. Dustball."             "Mmm-hmm."             "She's not used to real weather," says Cee.             "Observant as ever," says Ezra. The rain is not gentle. It is chilly and hits your skin like handfuls of flung sand, but is so different from anything you've known, so new that you can't help but stand there with a huge, dumb grin plastered on your face, even as your teeth chatter with the cold. Ezra comes and gets you.             "C'mon, Artichoke, while the rain does feel slinky and delicious it is not worth hypothermia."             "Sorry, Ez," you say and allow him to take your hand and lead you back to shelter. This has become something of a habit. Many worlds in the fringe are dustballs like the one you fled, algae and fungus growing on every bit of pipe that condensation beads on. On Falnost they had a deal with the ice-miners, discounted accommodations on world or on station in exchange for chunks of ice from your primary's lush rings de-orbited, burning and evaporating as they fell. The idea was that, eventually, there would be moisture enough in the atmosphere to trigger rains. Someday Falnost will have an ocean, but you won't be there for it, half your life spent harvesting rills of water from sail-traps, careful irrigation channels covered over with plastic sheeting, calorie vs water consumption ratios discussed every planting season. How many credits do we net vs wha† we have to spend? You got fucking sick of dreaming of an ocean your great grandchildren might paddle in. You skimmed enough to buy your way off world and since then you have seen things that you never would have believed as a child.            The first time you heard thunder was on a world called Ingwy. Your first  thought was artillery. Ingwy was a contested world, Karoclan and Lussia Collective skirmishing over land rights, while small stakes droppers like you and Ez and Cee swooped in to reap the spoils while the big corps and clans fought each other.  It was the middle of the night and you were on your feet instantly, railgun in hand, screaming that there was incoming, to take cover. Someone had flicked on a utility light hanging from a cord that swung, illuminating the inside of the tent in sickening arcs, and there's another explosion, this one so loud you feel the pressure change in your ears, hear your own voice crying out in tandem, white hot light even through the thick weave of the tent.           "It's just thunder," Ezra yells over the sound of rain slamming against the tent.           "That was an explosion!" He presses gently on your arm until you lower the rails.           "It's just loud," says Ezra, "It can't hurt us. We're safe here. Put the gun down." You set on the edge of your cot and put your face in your hands.           "Kevva. You must think I'm the dumbest dirt-farmer this side of the Great Arm." The cot dips as Ezra sits beside you.           "Not at all," he says, squeezes your shoulder, "I come from a backwater as well. First time I ever saw a proper ocean I nearly lost my breakfast right there on the beach."  Thunder peals again and you flinch, shrink against him slightly.            "Static electricity," says Ezra, "That's all it is. Builds up in the clouds and discharges into the ground." He keeps his hand on you as he speaks, fingers gently squeezing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, "The sound you hear is the air in the path of the lightning instantly heating and expanding. It makes a sonic shock wave, like any explosion."            "Like the boom when ships lift," you say.            "Just like that, Artichoke," he says, "Storm's already moving off, see?" The rain pelting the tent has settled into a steady drone. Thunder grumbles, a low, almost soft sound, not the air-rending explosion that shocked you out of sleep.            "We should try to rest," says Ezra, gives your shoulder one more firm squeeze and a little shake, and when you look up, he's smiling, dimple just beginning to sink into his cheek.             "Yeah," you say, "Okay." He kills the utility light and settles into his cot. You can hear the music from Cee's headphones, the tinny, fast pop she favors, threaded through the white noise of the falling rain. She slept through the whole thing.

            The ancient life of CJ's world favored heptagonal symmetry, long-dead mollusks like seven-sided shields shine out of the rusty ground, the smallest the size of a fingernail, the largest the size of dinner plates. This is a good deposit. The small ones are fashioned into jewelry and buttons.            "They take these great big ones and slice them micron thin," says Ezra, "Use them for window-glass in the temples of the Ephrate. They say it is like standing inside Kevva's very beating heart."           "I can see why," says Cee, and so do you. The minerals that limn the shells shine translucent red with brilliant streaks of orange, yellow and even thin threads of green and blue.           "They say that Kevva's first heart-beat ignited the explosion that became the universe," says Ezra.           "You really believe that?" Asks Cee.           "I don't know if believe is the right word," says Ezra, "We all grew up with these stories, why my grandmother..." You smile and tune him out. The back and forth banter between Cee and Ezra is a pulse that underlies every harvest. Cee has grown more talkative with each drop. Their relationship has a growing ease to it. You don't know exactly what happened between them before you joined up, but Cee's initial skittishness and Ezra's new healed scars tell a story you can guess the shape of. You let their conversation fade into the background, focus on the work of your hands, the meticulous scrape of soft sediment away from the hard glitter of the fossil, working around the seven sided edge, loosen enough up to get your fingers under the shell and you can pry it out, focus on the sounds of the world around you, no birds on CJ's world, but there is a range of bug-music, hidden in crevasses in the midday heat, all metallic clicks and creaks. Your rail-gun rests within easy reach, as always. You worm your fingers under the edge of the shell, wiggling it like a loose tooth, pops out of the sediment suddenly and you plop on your ass in the sandy dirt.           "You all right there, Artichoke?" Ezra grins at you.           "I'll recover." You dust yourself off and take your prize over to the tub that sits in the shadow of the pod. Further cleaning and grading can be done after dark. Nights  are long at this latitude. You stretch in the sunlight. This job is a milk-run compared to other drops, but hunkering in the dirt still hurts your knees and you feel every bit of it when you stand. There's a familiar sound, like a rumbling stomach, thunder, you think and glance up.          "Ezra!" Your voice is urgent and sharp and he's scrabbling up in a heartbeat, hand on the thrower at his hip, but when he stands there is only you pointing out across the vast expanse of sharp-carved valleys and hoodoos, lined in sharply delineated shadows and rusted cliffs where the light catches. The rainbow swoops skyward into grey cloud-bellies, a luminous curtain against the grey clouds, distant rain falling across the canyons.

        "Ezra, look!" Ezra exhales, tension leaching out of his shoulders. His hand drops away from the thrower.          "Oh, hey, a rainbow," says Cee. You lower your arm and just stare, transfixed at the glowing phantasm, brightening and dimming with the movement of clouds between it and the sun.           "It's beautiful," says Ezra. But he's not looking at the rainbow. He's looking at you. Your eyes are wide, lit up with wonder, an unconscious smile creeping across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. The stiff professionalism that you wear as close as your body armor momentarily set down, forgotten. Ezra's heart squeezes. There you are, he thinks. He can count on his one hand the number of times he's seen you smile like this, open and carefree, rare and precious as the gems the three of you pull from the ground. Part of him wants to kiss you, but he suspects he would end up on his back in the dust with the barrel of your railgun jammed beneath his sternum, so instead he brushes his hand against yours and your fingers find his and squeeze hard.            "I've never seen one before," you say, barely aware of Ezra's hand linked with yours, "I mean, I know what a rainbow is, but I've never seen one. Not in the real, just in vids."            "They don't have rainbows on Falnost?" Says Cee.            "They don't have rain on Falnost," you say, "Get's a little hazy sometimes after the ice-haulers make a drop, but that's about it." You shake your head as if just waking, the rainbow still shimmers, a bit duller now, and you are suddenly aware of Ezra's hand clasped with yours, the gentle pressure of his grasp.             "Sorry," you drop your eyes, "I got distracted. We got work to do." Ezra gives your hand a squeeze and then lets you go.             "Not to worry, Artichoke, rainbows are fleeting things. You look your fill while you can." And so you do. So does he.

[shadaofallthings]

Harrow is thoroughly haunted (also very mentally unhealthy due to her parents/culture’s practices)

There are a couple points to this theory crafting I have, but the basic statement is as such: Harrow is haunted by more than one revenant, at the very least The Sleeper and AL/The Corpse but likely way more, potentially including every one of the 200 ghosts Harrow’s parents killed to make her. I’d also like to note that this theory will discuss mental health a main subject of its theorizing. Having mental health issues or possessing certain traits that society deems mentally unhealthy is not a mark against your own character, or a reason to try and be normal by society’s standards. This theory will also discuss potential physiological causes for mental health issues. If you are sensitive to such discussions, this is probably not the theory for you to be reading on a bad day for your own mental health.   The first thing this theory hinged on is Ortus’ ability to contribute to the summoning of Matthias Nonias through, as Abigail says without the narrative challenging her, passion alone. This establishes that while most works of passion and people’s attempts to connect with their departed loved may not be enough to create a link, a notably obsessive work of passion and focus, one worked on for years, can have effects on The River, and Revenants summoned from it. Pretty simple, all you gotta accept for this one is that people with certain obsessions or fixations, the kinds that keep them thinking about someone for years, can help summon ghosts. The second thing this is hinged on is that when you summon/forge a bond through the method that Ortus did, you shape how the ghost will be summoned into reality. This is most easily demonstrated by Matthias Nonias commenting, multiple times, on the fact its strange that he is speaking in meter, that his behaviors in his duel with The Sleeper were not the normal ones of a trained, legendary fighter, and that as people took on/professed the belief in that work of epic poetry fanfiction was legit and could summon Matthias he actually managed to be summoned to the reality bubble they were in and impose specifically that fanfic’s rules on both Matthias and The Sleeper.  Third, this theory is hinged on the actions and mental state of Harrow the First/Ninth, and the actions/culture/beliefs of people surrounding her. First off, I would like to establish that Harrow has been exposed to conditions that would cause her to be likely to develop symptoms that are on the schizo-spectrum of disorders (schizophrenia, schizotypal, etc etc). The first of such conditions is actually the most important from a biology perspective: Harrow’s immediate family has a practice for keeping their secrets. When they wish to discuss the family business they draw a bath of cold saltwater, get in it, and do it from there. It is explicitly described as “freezing” in both Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth by Harrow herself. Repeat hypothermia is a physiological trigger that can cause a person to develop schizospectrum disorders, and I would argue that her parents exposed her to repeat hypothermia, and Harrow would confirm these baths have been going on since she learned to keep secrets (likely around 5-7). Second, we have contributing factors to this mental state, most notably is the Incense that is described in Gideon as being used by The Ninth House in their worship. If, and this is a big if given how little we know specifics, this incense was Frankincense or uses similar molecular structures (possible given the influence of Christianity over the Dademperor’s Cult), we would know that Harrow all her life has been exposed to a mild hallucinogen (and also antidepressant, but that effect of frankincense isn’t relevant), which while unless overexposed significantly (to the point it would cause some lung damage if done repeatedly) she would’t have hallucinations NORMALLY, we have already discussed why Harrow’s brain chemistry wouldn’t be normal and this could have an affect overall on the development of her mental health. We also know from Harrow’ behavior and information about her parents that she herself gives that she has been instilled with a rather potent guilt complex over the 200 dead who were sacrificed to make her (One of her prayers included “and let me be buried in 200 graves” ffs). More miscellaneous stuff to include in contributing factors to Harrow being predisposed towards guilt and hallucinations and fixations as well includes Harrow being around the dead and dying for her entire life, being a Necromancer, both bad ventilation due to the infrastructure of the Ninth House as well as exposure to a nerve agent that canonically throws your brain into destructive overdrive, and discovering The Corpse in The Locked Tomb (this last one being notable as having happened around the beginning of puberty or during giving her a reason that her death fixation might become what is in cannon called Corpse Lust). She’s a kid, basically, in a hormonal shitstorm of growing up: she doesn’t know how to stop her head from doing fuckshit to itself). In addition to her fixation on The Corpse however is the sheer amount of time she spent worrying about it, lusting after it, being comforted by hallucinations of it, and otherwise spending a large amount of her mental effort thinking about The Corpse one way or another. Now, lets braid these threads into a rope. We know that passion and obsession can make a legitimate metaphysical link to a revenant, allowing them to find their way back into Shallower waters or even the world through objects and ideas (such as an epic poem fanfic, and potentially people, but DEFINITELY prayers [poems and phrases repeated that cause certain patterns of thoughts) given the nature of what we’ve seen). We know that Harrow has spent a large amount of her life giving worship, strong emotion and most importantly obsession towards The Corpse/AL. Also, we know from Harrow the Ninth in direct statements by some spirit focused allies that Revenants can use any connection they have to the world to get back into it, even if that’s in a limited capacity. For good measure, we also know that Harrow’s been giving this treatment to a more nebulous idea of All The People Who Died To Allow Her To Be Born/A Necromancer, and we also know that she has more connections spiritually which likely support that 200 people as well. As such, my claim is this: Harrow is both mentally affected in a way similar to what she thinks is her stated insanity in that she does experience hallucinations, moments of paranoia and panic over very little/nothing, and so on (worth noting is that Harrow would be exceptionally well adapted for coping with this. These changes are physical almost purely, as Gideon while inside Harrow’s head and getting a show of her perceptions either can not tell that Harrow didn’t have a corpse under her bed, or didn’t know that a potentially fugue state ridden Harrow moved a corpse there (its very unclear what actually went down in that scene and there’s a lot potentially going down but Gideon experiences life as Harrow does and that is what’s important). On the metaphysical side of things though, Harrow is Haunted by at least 2 ghosts, likely many more. She wouldn’t know because she is bad at Spirit magic, and potentially could be having her ghosts give her an aversion toward learning it, but it is commented on by more than one capable spirit necromancer (Dademperor and Abigail). She has to be haunted by The Sleeper, as the plot literally revolves around that being a thing, but she also shows more signs of a haunting. Harrow loses one of the hallucinations that always has been present with her in times of stress when she leaves her physical body behind during the Resurrection Beast fight, but the same hallucination is also present when Gideon rides her body into The River, potentially being a saving factor for Harrow’s original body, the body that would actually have the connection to The Corpse. In addition, Harrow when she emerges from The River had a connection that she followed back to her home in the form of the tomb, and where her obsession previously slept, a body that could never have been moved by anyone but her, the Dademperor or the revenant herself. In addition, the Corpse gives her advice on things she could have never known about more than once, and generally tries to do things that Harrow would find helpful or supportive (even if that would be creepy to her, like “bringing her tea” during a conversation with someone). As such, we can say without a shadow of a doubt that Harrow is haunted by two people, The Sleeper who is latching onto her thoughts through magics, likely, and The Corpse/AL who is entering our reality primarily through Harrow’s thoughts as she figures out how to be a person again and is exposed to more things that would give her connections (note how she becomes more coherent and proactive after Dademperor reminisces about her, her only other strong connection to the world beyond Harrow and her corpse). We can also infer that after so much time thinking about all the people who died for her in terms of guilt and their lost lives that she might also have the revenants of a few angry children/teens/young adults holding on.  TLDR: Harrow’s got a ghost “girlfriend” (wildly unhealthy for her) that possesses Harrow’s hallucinations of her, is haunted by The Sleeper for the course of at least Harrow(the book) and is potentially haunted by the revenants of every person who died to make her birth/magic possible.

[artistrashofmine]

If you’re interested in some Bakugou and Aizawa bonding, and some pain, I got this for you! Though be warned- manga spoilers, specifically of chapter 298. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136795 Rated: Teen and Up W/C: 4200

Katsuki Bakugou was strong. He had a strong quirk, he had a strong body, strong enough to handle his quirk, strong enough for the strict training he put himself through. Stronger than explosions, that’s what he liked to say; a body to withstand an atomic bomb. He had yet to test his body on any other explosion but his own, still, his own were legit explosions and he was the center of them, where nearly anyone else would be burned to a crisp. His body could withstand boiling water, it could withstand Todoroki’s fire. It was strong.

He was often told of how strong he was, strong and handsome. The last one made him uncomfortable - not that he’d admit to it. Since his parents were both involved in the fashion injury, of course, their ‘cute’ kid was going to gain attention. He was a spitting image of his mother in a male body. A well taken care of body. So he liked to cover up loose clothing so they couldn’t see. So they couldn’t compliment it. It was fucking a weird reason but it made him feel more normal. It wasn’t his body people were supposed to be praising. It was his potential as a hero, his quirk, his strength. His body was proof of how hard he worked, but it never felt like people saw it as such.

They saw a pretty body. He knew it wasn’t the work he went through that people thought of when they looked at a person’s body. He knew they looked at how clear his skin was, how slim his waist was, what he was wearing that day, how it could complement his body, how cute he was as a kid, how straight his teeth were. That wasn’t what Katsuki wanted, that was far from what he wanted. Luckily he had his quirk, a flashy quirk. People liked flashy quirks, it could gain just as much attention as his body. And from there came his strength. He drew their attention to his quirk, to his loud self, personality and all.

They couldn’t think of him as cute, or soft or attractive with a personality like his. It wasn’t enjoyable, and the only two things that could outshine a body was a quirk and personality. Katsuki’s quirk was flashy and his personality was shit. And that’s what drew their attention. From the shitty extras in middle-school to the shitty sidekicks during the sludge villain to the shitty press during the Sports Festival, to the shitty villains who saw exactly what the shitty press saw; a monster chained down by the pillars of society, a dog that had to be muzzled in order to fit into their shitty world.

His personality was shit, but his determination was everlasting. And his goal? It was to win, for total victory. That’s why he ended up in such shit situations, chained up like a villain on display for all of Japan to see, inspiring the villains to do the same. Inspiring villains who saw that and thought, yeah, he’s one of us. It made Katsuki fucking sick, but really. It was his own doing, wasn’t it?

He was the one who carefully moulded himself into such a character. He made sure to do so, to make himself approachable, to uphold that rough exterior. It helped that most people were annoying, assholes, or simply intrusive as fuck. Therefore, he had no issue with pushing them away. So really, it was all just coming back to bite him in the ass. All the shit he put others through, the shitty fighting his parents had to put up with. The shitty bullying Deku had to. It was karma.

If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t have been put through all this shit. They wouldn’t have gone after IcyHot again because they could stop themselves during the Sport’s Festival. They could think rationally, Katsuki couldn’t. He moved without thinking about the consequences, without thinking properly. Without coming to the idea that hey, maybe going after an unconscious classmate was going a bit too far. Then again, when has Katsuki never gone too far? He always did, and so he was finally paying the price. And it began with the award ceremony, it began with his kidnapping, with failure during the licensing exam.  

His first year was full of failures, wasn’t it?

Another one looked at him in the mirror. In the form of a fucking hole.

Well, all it was now is a scar. A fresh scar that took out a part of his stomach apparently. It took a fucking ton of fancy-ass quirks to put it back together, quirks and doctors. He could've been - should've been, dead by now. He should of been dead when it happened yet he charged right back in ready to fucking fight, despite Glasses trying to hold him back. Practically worsening his injuries because he was a fucking idiot who got hurt in the first place. Who couldn’t think his actions through. Instead, he jumped in and “saved” Deku? Then jumped in again thinking he could be the one to save the fucking day. And for what?

To be the first of the two to awaken? For Deku to be beaten to all hell and still unresponsive. He did fuck all. He made himself a liability. Katsuki wondered, if he just stopped, if he didn’t move, if he let Deku take the hit, wouldn’t that mean that Deku would possibly be in a better condition than he already was? That he wouldn’t be able to fight any longer after he took the hit?

Then again, he wasn’t exactly in the best condition to fight anyway, that hit would have only made it worse, and yet Deku wouldn’t have fucking taken a clue and stood down. Not that Katsuki did either. The only difference- Katsuki was fucking useless . He didn’t have All Might’s power, he wasn’t the villain’s target, he wasn’t even the side-wanna-be shitty Todoroki spawn’s target. He was nothing compared to his peers. Fucking nothing. A fucking extra. He did shit all. And it earned him this.

Waking up to an empty room, a large as hell room, two days after the incident. On a machine to help him breathe or something of that matter. All fucked up on pain meds too, that did fuck all to help with the piercing pain in his upper abdomen. Though it did dull the rest quite well. He could hardly feel his fucking arms, they were like pins and needles. Why were they bandaged in the first place? He didn’t know. Even when he overused his quirk, he never had to bandage them up. It was his shoulder that got hit, not his arm, not both his arms. Whatever, they felt fine enough, he could move them and that’s what matters. He could move. He could sit up, he could walk.

He was greeted by the grape asshole, Sero, the guy who can bake and Invisabitch. Which was weird as hell, cause he never interacts with any of them but Soy-Sauce-Face. Didn’t matter, they must have simply been the ones closest to the room at the time he awakened, when the heart monitor started to pick up.

Apparently, according to them, he was about as worse as it got. The doc seemed to think so too as he stressed the importance of staying in the stupid bed. Fucking bullshit. He only had a hole in his stomach…

IcyHot was going through plenty of shit, physical and mentally. Aizawa, he lost his foot, part of his fucking leg. And Deku, Deku hadn’t even woken up. Acting as if Katsuki was the one about to die. He’ll be fixed up fine once he gets some energy back, right? Didn’t matter anyway, he fucking failed. Deserved this shit. Couldn’t even save one damn person. Only fucked himself up and got in the way.

Did all that shit for nothing, to watch Deku die anyway? To see everyone so depressed? To realize how fucking worthless he is at this hero shit? When he’s supposed to be the best. Top of the class, aiming to be the top hero, better than All Might. It was his life goal, so what the hell was he doing here? In this embarrassing condition? It was so stupid.

He hated it.

He hated to look at it.

Even once it had healed over, once quirk magic got to it. Once he was recovered and it was no more than a scar, a deformed piece on his body. Deformed to all hell, still swollen and red.

He looked in the mirror and he hated it.

People used to love Katsuki because he was a cute kid, because he looked like a spitting image of his mother, because he grew to have blemish-free skin, sharp eyes, soft cheeks, a thin waist, strong arms. He knew how people used to look at his body, how they saw it.

He hated that. He hated how people looked at him.

Katsuki had never thought much of his body. He was proud of it for the hard work it took to form his body. From the first time he dislocated his shoulder when using his quirk, to the calluses that formed and the careful way he’d take care of his hands because they were the most important part of him.

To the practice in balance and fighting and flying through the air, everything revolving around how he moved his body, his weight distribution, how fucking tall he was, how he had weaker knees and strong shoulders. How his hearing wasn’t the fucking best but it wasn’t the worst either, not yet.

He never saw his body like everyone else around him did. And he never saw his body like this. It was supposed to be the pride of his accomplishments and hard work, not this. Not a board to pin his failures onto. To showcase them to the world. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It didn’t matter that his stomach wasn’t fully there, that he’d always have problems with it from now on. It didn’t matter that even Recovery Girl wasn’t enough to fully heal him to 100 percent. He’d deal with it. It wouldn’t get the best of him.

Looking in the mirror, at the monstrosity carved into him, a literal pit in his stomach that is raised, inflamed, scarred skin. It was as if his body, his failure, were laughing at him. Mocking him because he wasn’t able to do a damn thing. Telling him that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t cut out for this kind of future. That this accident was a sign to find something more suited to an asshole like him.

Katsuki never wanted to spit in his own face as much as he did now. Looking at himself with a sneer so cold that it could rival the ones he sends to Deku. Enough anger in there, enough hatred, that it almost looked like he were his middle school self again, on top of the world, pushing everyone away. Doing as much he could to hurt them, hurt him .

The scar left on his shoulder was nothing compared to it. It was a pain, it was annoying but at least it had a purpose. It messed with his shoulder, and therefore it messed with his arm. Only a little, thank fuck. But still, he’d need to retrain his left, he’d need to take in consideration the uncomfortable sensation of the skin pulling tight, the stiff movements, the twitch he’d sometimes get in his index finger, and the fact that he’d be experiencing the goddamn pins and needles feeling in his left arm more often than his right, even when he didn’t overuse his quirk. The muscle would be strained more often. It was weak. He needed to rebuild it.

It was something he could work towards. He could make up for that failure, he could do something about it. Overcome it. But the pit in his stomach was different. It didn’t hinder his quirk, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. It was a true representation of the failures he couldn’t overcome, the shit he couldn’t redo or take back. It was a reminder of how shitty he truly was. That there was a part of him that would always be messed up. The part of him that was hung out like a feral animal in front of a crowd of millions. Who destroys a whole fucking block because he let some shitty sewer rat get the best of him. Of someone who the villains aimed to recruit. Who they forgot all about afterward. Just as how the school conveniently forgot about the Sports Festival, ignoring the hundreds of articles questioning UA’s decision on allowing such a troublesome human to attend their school much less be in the hero course.

How IcyHot conveniently forgot about Katsuki’s pleads to take him seriously and not to lump him in as someone lower than Deku, even after they failed the licensing exam together. After they spent a shit ton of time together. He used his fire more often now, so why did it matter? It wasn’t any of Katsuki’s business, so why did he still feel unsatisfied, why did he feel upset? Halfie was saving lives, it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter that Katsuki was embarrassed. He wasn’t good enough in IcyHot’s eyes to go all-in on. He needed to get better, that’s all.

How was he supposed to get better like this?

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth. He wonders if it’s the taste of defeat. If this is it, if Katsuki had already hit his peak and it was all downhill from here. Was that what the hole in his stomach was trying to tell him? Either way, it meant failure.

A symbol of failure, that’s all it was.

Katsuki hated that he had no one to confirm or deny his speculations, not unless he wanted to show how fucking insecure he actually was. How unsure of himself he was. God knows any idiot could infer what the blond was thinking if he started asking about what people thought this stupid injury meant.

They probably wouldn’t understand his question. They probably wouldn’t answer him. He could see Kirishima’s large, concerned eyes- thinking that Katsuki was feeling insecure about himself, but the redhead didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know the monster that Katsuki truly was. Sometimes Katsuki felt guilty, someone like Kirishima considered him a friend while Katsuki was about the shittiest person to exist. Someone like Kirishima who stood by him no matter how hard Katsuki pushes; an immovable force. Someone like Kirishima, who stood by his side and called him manly even while Katsuki laid in a hospital bed with a hole in his stomach and bandages taking over his body.

He remembers Kirishima saying, “scars are manly, bro! Just look at Todoroki! Even I have one, see, I got it ’cause of my quirk...”

Katsuki wasn’t calling the pair of them weak because they had scars, that’s not how it worked. It wasn’t Todoroki’s fault he grew up in a shitty home. There’s nothing Kirishima could’ve done, he was a kid with a new quirk. But Katsuki, he never got scars.

He got scrapes, he got bruises, he got in fights. Nothing has resulted in scars. Not his falls, not when he cut himself cooking, nothing. Everything healed to become the perfect skin he got from his mother. Nothing stayed.

Nothing but this.

This was a first, because Katsuki never got scars.

This was something special.

Not all special things were good.

This was bitter.

This was like the time his preschool teacher explained that Deku was just special because he didn’t have a quirk. That wasn’t a good special, not when it singled him out. Children were cruel, Katsuki was no exception.

It was a special scar, but it wasn’t a good kind of special.

This made him sick. Made the bitter taste in his throat into the taste of bile. Acidic and gross. As gross as the mark that stood out on his stomach. How fucked up was his stomach now? They gave him some dietary restriction for the next few weeks, would he be able to eat anything normally afterwards? Could his fucked up stomach handle spices anymore? After all, that was one of the things on the list- limits on spice. It was only for three weeks, just to be sure he healed properly. After all, he was still messed up. He’d be forever messed up now.

Was it bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to tolerate some of his favourite foods? And what else was there to it? Would it now be a weak spot, that villain could use against him. It would be easy to see, that is if he wore a shirtless hero outfit like Kirishima. But he didn’t. He’d make sure no one would be able to see it. It was only for Katsuki’s eyes.

Would it itch once it was healed? He wanted to scratch it now, the itch was fucking insane, but he didn’t touch it. He didn’t want to, even if it wasn’t so sensitive, he won’t touch it more than he’d have to. That begged the question- would it always be so sensitive? Surely it’d get better once the swell came down. But the doctors had talked about how they created new skin growth, to help seal the hole. To make him appear semi-normal. It’d be like a baby's skin, wouldn’t it? Sensitive as hell.

He’d have to deal with it. He’d have to make sure it was covered up well during training, in case someone tried to hit him there.

Though Katsuki doubted that anyone would. They all knew where he was hit. The whole class, they pitied him, they were going to go easy on him.

If Katsuki’s stomach wasn’t so empty, he’d puke. Would it be leftover blood that he’d vomit up? The doctor mentioned something about that too. Probably why his mouth tasted so heavily or iron. Would he ever get rid of the taste?

Would all the food he eats taste of blood and bitterness?

He hoped not, it’d certainly make keeping his lunch down much harder than it was. And that wasn’t an easy feat when all your classmates talked about was Deku and the fact that he’d be out of school recovering for the next two weeks. Reminding him of how fucking useless his injury was, how useless he was.

Rice never tasted so bad.

Though, their first day back in class was worse. He saw Aizawa. He saw his leg. His eye is covered in bandages. His leg, his foot, or lack of foot. It had him turning back out of the classroom, the bitter taste of iron returning to his tongue as he puked what was left of his stomach up in the toilet. A tinge of red. They were right about the blood. The flavour wouldn’t leave his mouth, even as he washed it out with soap.

Despite the slip-up, Katsuki was in his seat as early as he usually would be, his careful facade in place, daring anyone to talk to him. Usually, that would go ignored by Kirishima and his friends. Still, Katsuki could hope for one day that it wouldn’t. That they be too bummed out to make conversation.

He was right. The whole classroom acted as if someone had died. Well, someone had. Midnight, his mind unhelpfully provided. Bakugou didn’t want to think about that. Sometimes he forgot his teachers were pro-heroes. And no, he didn’t like Midnight all that much, actually, he avoided her at any chance he could. She made him uncomfortable. Her and Cementos. It was no surprise, they took the lead in taking care of his uncooperative ass during the Sport’s Festival. Still, despite his dislike  for the pro, it did feel like something was missing. And Katsuki did feel guilty when his initial reaction was relieved when President Mic took her place for art.

Once again, as he sat with his classmates in the quieter-than-usual cafeteria, he wondered if he could keep his lunch down. He didn’t like the eyes on the back of his head- on the back of their heads. It wasn’t just him. It was the whole class. After all, they were in the middle of things. Them and 1-B. But mostly 1-A. It was always 1-A. Did the rest of the first years look at them with awe? No, they never looked at Katsuki like that. With fear then? Hatred? Jealously? With pity ?

Katsuki didn’t eat much. Even if he could, even if his stomach would hold the amount of food he could previously consume, Katsuki was too busy gettin stuck in his own head to pay attention to the lunch in front of him.

When training rolled around, he changed in the stall. It went unnoticed, he was usually quick at changing anyway. He realized his bandages were showing with the tanktop of his hero costume. Would the scar on his shoulder show once he got to unwrap then? At least it wasn’t the hole in his stomach.

They were doing light training, Aizawa’s orders. So Katsuki kept off his gauntlets, he wouldn’t need them. All Might looked out of it. Because Deku wasn’t here . Everyone else was out of it too. But Deku would be fine. He was going to pull through, they all said so. He woke up already so it’d be fine. Why the hell were they mourning over that idiot then?

Katsuki set off an explosion that was bigger than he was supposed to, his shoulder screaming in pain as a result. But it worked, it snapped the rest of the class out of it. It seemed to light some kind of fire within them. To see Katsuki’s normal care-free, destructive attitude. At least his violent nature was good for something.

Though, Aizawa pulled him aside. Brought him out of the training room, into the hallway, leaning against the wall with his crutches, “kid.”

Katsuki swallowed, “what?”

“You left this morning when you saw my leg, right? What’s going through your mind Bakugou?”

“Nothing,” He avoided eye contact, morphing his expression into a familiar scowl.

“Is it because I'm hurt-” Bakugou opened his mouth to deny, snapping his red eyes up to meet a grey one, “or is it because you are?”

“No, I'm not.” He denied anyway, despite the fact that his denial was so obviously a lie, it didn’t take a genius to see the bandages and figure out what kind of condition he was in. Especially not if you happened to be there when it was happening.

Aiawa sighed, he looked tired. A lot of his classmates said he always looked tired, that’s why he slept during class. Katsuki had always thought he just looked bored. Now- now he looked tired. He slid down the wall, sitting on the tile. With an awkward pause, Katsuki conceded and did the same, joining him on the floor.

“Look,” The pro took his time, carefully rolling up the pant leg that was now much too long for him, rolling it up until bandages poked through.

Katsuki swallowed the lump in his throat. He could already taste the blond on his mouth. Blood from the incident. From when it first happened. Blood from his nightmares that retold the incident, over and over and over again. Blood for this morning. The taste of blood in his mouth won’t go away.

“Bakugou,” The taste was as permanent as the stump on his teacher's leg, “this didn’t happen because I was weak. It wasn’t my fault and it certainly wasn’t yours.”

Katsuki stared down at the bandages, wrapped so carefully around the fresh amputation. The blond wondered if it hurt as much as the hole in his stomach. More, he figured. Aizawa was strong though. He could handle the pain.

“Everyone has scars, this one is mine.”

Aizawa was strong. Katsuki respected him.

He admits to having a scar. He says everyone does. He admits that this is a scar, his scar. He wasn’t afraid to admit it. He wasn’t ashamed. It wasn’t a symbol of his failure. He had quite the opposite.

The blond carefully pulled his gloves off, setting them aside. He wiped the sweat off his hands, feeling the fabric of his shirt between his calloused fingers. Pulling the shirt up just enough. Resting a hand on his bandaged center, the unfamiliar feeling causing him to tense. Yet he kept his hand there. On the bandages. On the hole in his stomach. On the scar that rested upon his skin.

He inhaled, clearing his throat- his mouth- of the iron-rich, of the bitter, taste.

“This is mine.”

The weight on his shoulders felt a little bit lighter. His breathing came out freely, the pain in his chest had lessened, a pain that he didn’t even know he had. He could relax now.

Aizawa’s gaze didn’t bother him. Katsuki’s body felt strong.

[badlydrawndrawnings]

Takuto Maruki’s Cursed Timeline

[NOTE: Everything in this post is mostly comprised of juicedup14′s Fan Translations, because they are honestly the most reliable ones I have access to. If anyone wants to kindly make a rebuttal regarding events on the timeline or correct events on the time/other corrections not related to the timeline, feel free to do so].

Looking back at the Original Vanilla Persona 5, and comparing it to Royal story wise, something tells me that Atlus creating Takuto Maruki into existence sort of accidentally muck up the timeline. It’s not help by the fact Atlus is still refusing to accept 2016 as the year Persona 5 takes place and use 201X despite calendars lining up.

Because we don’t have a Birthday OR Birth Year, for the purpose of this post, Takuto is a Pisces born between Feb 20, 1988 (because Futaba’s BD is Feb 19) and March 20, 1988 (Excluding March 3 because that is Yuka Ayase from Persona 1′s BD). 1988 makes Takuto 28 in 2016, and 29 when Royal ends. I don’t think Atlus wants him young as 21 or 22, but I don’t think Atlus wants him older than 30, and details of his past makes me think he isn’t 23, 24 or 25. Also for purpose of this post, P5 will be given the year 2016, because 201X is actually going to be mention several times and I don’t want confusion in the timeline.

In regards to the timeline, we must talk about the first elephant, Wakaba Isshiki and her involvement in cognitive (p)science.

Original Vanilla Persona 5 shows that Wakaba is in the field of cognitive (p)science research, and her research has ties to the government. Wakaba’s involvement within the cognitive (p)science field made her super important (seemingly almost leading pioneer important) to where Shido thought that to steal Wakaba’s research (after she refused to turn it to him), he needed to order a hit on her. All of this is the same in Royal. No retcons at all.

With the addition of Takuto’s character who is involve in the same field, you think someone could have named dropped a connection, right? Wrong! There is no connection (that I can find) linking Wakaba and Takuto, and Takuto when meets Futaba and seeing Wakaba’s research, he seems to have no idea who Wakaba is at all. 

In fact, all of Takuto’s past (which will be discussed under the cut) gives implication cognition (p)science research is new. Not new-new, but new enough that people are still apparently trying to be the first to make a real name for themselves in the field independently(as much as it can) from the government, and Takuto was a top contender on the list. An explanation for the first elephant is simple: Wakaba got into the field of cognitive (p)science when it was new-new and was able to snag government connections. Takuto meanwhile, got into cognitive (p)science when people were trying make a real name for themselves independently while in university and stuck with uni for a good while.

So far, so good. Elephant two and all the heavy major spoilers is under the cut.

Elephant Two of the cursed timeline is the breakup with Rumi and when Takuto lost his future lab because his research wasn’t ‘valid’ enough, as the two events happen in close succession with one another. Rumi was Takuto’s college/uni girlfriend (the wording makes me think they started dating during uni and stay together ever since; they’re college-uni sweethearts). Based off the the diaries entries, Takuto and Rumi were still engaged to one another between 2/2 of 201X and 4/9 of 201X. 2/2 entry states that 2/3 (aka, ‘tomorrow’) is also Rumi’s Birthday. 4/9 entry is written in the Spring, with Rumi in the hospital shock and traumatize over the lost of her parents and Takuto trying to still wrap his own trauma and shock over Rumi’s parents death and Rumi herself.

By the time of Takuto’s conversation with Rumi at the hospital -clearly happening in late spring given Takuto’s third diary entry is in early summer, and because polo shirt are worn in warm temperature of spring and summer- Takuto finished his first thesis, aka the research pre-cognition overwrite (aka, Takuto’s    power). In this same conversation, Takuto awakens his Persona abilities in the real world (it’s not a full awakening tho), but seems to not use it again after Rumi. 

At least not until Takuto lost his future lab.

Based off the second flashback with Takuto and Shibusawa (aka, Takuto’s friend; juicedup14 translated the friend’s name), Takuto’s research came to a complete halt, and the future lab Takuto is planning on having is also halted as well. In the previous flashback with Rumi, Takuto mentions someone took an interest. By 6/3 entry, Takuto is now rewriting his thesis and doing his second round of research. With this rewrite and powers, Takuto seems to realize ‘oh shit cognitive (p)science is dangerous better make sure it doesn’t cause harm’.

By the flashback with Yoshizawa meeting Takuto in 2016 (aka, before the start of the game) the man has that Shaggy’s style beard, meaning enough time past after everything in 201X, as well with the fact Takuto had enough time to establish a practice because realistically, Yoshizawa’s parents must have gotten Takuto’s name as a referral or pick from a list of professional for their daughter to at least see. To keep Takuto’s past stay as close as possible to P5/Royal (since Rumi still stings a sore spot in Takuto’s heart even in 2016), Takuto’s worst year has to happen in 2014. And with 2014 in mind,  timeline isn’t cursed when looking at it as a whole.

(Pre) 2/2, 2014: Possibly 25 or 26 year old Takuto has terrible headaches like Rita Repulsa, and Takuto pops the question to Rumi. Rumi says yes.

2/2, 2014: 26 year old Takuto writes in his diary about meeting Rumi’s parents (on her birthday). Headaches are still terrible. 

Possibly 2/3, 2014: Rumi’s Birthday, and Takuto meets Rumi’s parents. There’s a chance the burglary happens on Rumi’s birthday, so for the purpose of this post, let’s assume it’s the case. Rumi loses her parents and lands in the hospital due to the shock of the trauma.

4/9, 2014: Another diary entry. 27 year old Takuto’s headaches get worse, as well has the pain in his heart due to the condition of Rumi.

Post 4/9, 2014 (Probably April): Takuto gains powers of cognition overwrite; he heals Rumi at the cost of retconning himself out of Rumi’s life.

Post 4/9 2014 (Probably late April or most likely May; see Elephant Three and Four): Takuto’s research and future lab are stopped. Takuto gets drunk over it with Shibusawa. This is one of two periods where someone *coughshidocough* stole Takuto’s original research.

6/3, 2014: Takuto is still early on in round two of his research. This is the second of two periods where someone*coughshidocough* stole Takuto’s original research

Post 6/3, 2014 but Pre-March 2016: 26 or 27 year old Takuto decides to stop being a research and decides becomes a therapist/counselor after talking to Shibusawa. 

Pre-March 2016: 26 or 27 year old Takuto is now a therapist with a practice

March 2016: 27 or 28 year old Takuto see Yoshizawa and creates Ka-sumire (yeah he just changed Sumire’s cognition of herself and it’s not a fusion of the two, but technically it is in a sense?)

12/24, 2016: Should Joker max Takuto’s Co-op/Confidant, Takuto finishes his second research paper/thesis, shows it to his his old professor, and says his suspicion who stole the original research, and awakens his Persona when reality and Mementos fuse together thanks to Yaldy. Takuto becomes God (like). If we take Takuto’s word, Goro is dead and brings him back to life

1/1, 2017: Third Semester officially start.

So far, still good. And now we get to the Elephant Three, Four, and Five: Masayoshi Shido, Goro Akechi, and Wakaba Isshiki’s death. That’s right; Wakaba is back at it again, though it’s not her fault. All three are connection to one another so they’re all in a little heard of elephants. We ought to blame Shido deciding to order a hit on Wakaba with his supernatural hitman but not trying to kill Takuto when getting a chance.

On 12/24, Takuto is convince it’s Shido who stole the original research all those years ago (with Takuto mistaken that his research was used for psychotic breakdowns, this help narrow the timeline) -which I do think it's legit given the professor response and Shido canonically stole Wakaba’s research- resulting in Takuto to start over from scratch. It’s odd to think Shido allow Takuto to live when Shido has a supernatural hitman at his beck in call...right? To re-summarize a post I don’t want to link because I’m only going to be taking about 2014, Goro Akechi’s Timeline of 2014 is this:

2014, between Goro’s last year of middle school and the beginning of his first year of high school, 15 year old Goro (he won’t be 16 until June 2) awakens to his Persona and Powers. There are no serious rampages (aka psychotic breakdowns) and obviously no mental shutdowns. Goro experiment with generic shadows in the Metaverse to understand WTF is going on with him.

2014, May in Goro’s 1st year. Goro decides to show himself to Shido and his powers (Goro clearly didn’t show up as a train hitman; just someone who knows he has powers to make life go swimmingly well). As Goro and Shido knew each other for 2.5 years, the midpoint for a year anniversary in May is November, which fits the long ass exposition scene. The psychotic breakdown we know in P5 also get there start here.

2014, August in Goro’s 1st year. Wakaba dies in her car accident. As Goro’s BD is in June, and given what Shadow!Shido says to the PT, Shido introduced the idea of mental shutdown to Goro post June, and Shadow!Wakaba is most likely sixteen year old Goro’s first human Shadow he had to kill. 

Given Takuto’s personal timeline, while we don’t have the exact dates for when the lab and future research was canned and when Shido stole Takuto’s original research, the only ball park estimate is Late April or May, with May best corresponding to Goro’s starting his plan of revenge and deciding to work for Shido. The idea of a 15 year old somehow having access to a university, stealing a grown’s man thesis paper without getting caught, and giving it to Shido as well as bringing up supernatural powers in rapid succession is humorous, but obviously wrong. 

The idea Takuto’s first research thesis was stolen right before Goro approached Shido is the only placement that makes sense. We have Takuto who is basically on the fine line of being a nobody and somebody. Takuto was gonna join the big leagues. We have Shido who has his goals of taking over Japan, as well as the drive. Shido is still a regular corrupt politician, and has no way of say, killing someone by special means and get away with it at of this moment.

Canonically, Shido’s interested in cognitive (p)science boils down to ‘I can use this for my goal of becoming prime minister’. Given his role in the government, he must had heard Wakaba’s name and research, but had no real means on talking to her about it since Shido apparently only spoken to Wakaba once or twice to get her to hand over the cognitive (p)science research. The closest he can get to Wakaba’s research is this coffee driven twenty-something year old who looks like he never seen a comb or brush in his life (I doubt Takuto is this, but Shido probably think so) thesis paper that Shido takes a shine to it. A really good shine. Like, ‘Hm...I’m gonna take it and hope there’s physical proof to it in the future and ruin this man’s whole career while I’m at it’ shine. 

Just has Shido read a few paragraphs, Goro shows up and offers his powers. Even though Shido hasn’t read the full paper, Goro is the physical proof that somehow support Takuto’s paper. Shido being Shido, still wants Wakaba’s research because it’s been in the making for much longer than Takuto’s. With new knowledge how the other world works due to Goro causing rampages of psychotic breakdowns, Shido throw aside Takuto’s research and order the hit he couldn’t do on Takuto onto Wakaba. And you think that Shido would have taken another chance at Takuto with Goro, but he didn’t. 

Why? Takuto is no longer in the field of cognitive (p)science by this point because now he’s either a therapist/counselor or on the path of being a therapist/counselor. With a ruin research career and having to switch job, Shido probably did the right move from his POV to not add Takuto as another needed casualty. Because Shido in a sense, spared Takuto’s life a second time around, it also answers a question I found in Third Semester:

If Shido stole Takuto’s research, why does Goro have no idea who Takuto is when they properly met in Third Semester (remember: Goro has a question mark symbol when Takuto is reveal to be the Palace Owner, meaning Goro is confuse that this random guy is something Joker and Ka-sumire know, and Goro has to research Takuto’s past to explain to Joker)? And the answer is Goro truly has no idea who Takuto Maruki is! By the time Goro introduced himself to Shido, Shido found the man irrelevant and no longer important to bring up to his supernatural hitman as a target because Shido can get the true diamond in his eyes: Wakaba Isshiki’s research.

This would also put Takuto’s assumption of the psychotic breakdowns and how Shido introduced mental shutdowns to Goro into a new light. Psychotic Breakdowns is canonically Loki’s special power Goro can us on others to make them go wild and destructive and go on rampages. Mental Shutdown is pretty much killing the Shadow and seeing whatever will happen next. The two are not the same thing, despite what the original Vanilla Localization says by lumping the two together; it’s a mistake on the localization part. In fact, I’m a bit convince there’s a chance Takuto fell into the same mistake as well...

[renatlia]

For Good

A peaceful silence hushed over the battlefield. It was won. However, the calm could only be enjoyed for so long before the scenery began to change.

Oh. It was over. Time and space were correcting themselves, closing the magical rifts that brought the group together. This was it.

Hearts sank watching the companions - brothers - around each of them fading away to their respective eras. Then, the transition seemed to pause midway. Caught halfway between the former battlefield and home, their surroundings looked strangely melted together. From the violent debris scattered along the ground, to the still eerily-dark sky, to the green grass beneath their feet, to the spectral-like figures of their friends.

There was no confusion on what was happening. The goddesses were giving their heroes the chance to bid farewell. Jaws clenched as emotions swelled and no words came to mind. Taking pity, Nayru cast her musical blessing on the silent protagonists, allowing them to express their feelings into song.

“I’ve heard it said,” the captain started cautiously, afraid to break the moment, “that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those who help us most to grow if we let them, and we help them in return.”

“Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true, but I know I’m who I am today because I knew you,” the smithy replied. He wasn’t too sure if he himself had made that much of an impact on the others.

The farmhand was finding it difficult to breathe, just like last time, but he wouldn’t say nothing. He had to speak, and by the grace of Nayru, he was able to. “Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun. Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood. Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better? But because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

He was surprised to see his cub once again after his adventure was over, but he was stunned meeting the Hero of Time. If his wild child hadn’t been the one to explain to him what was happening, he would’ve thought he’d finally cracked.

The old man had noticed his recognition, but he never asked about it. Instead, he took well to becoming a mentor, and they grew close enough to share secrets. While he felt horrible about having to keep the fate of his mentor secret, learning more about his ancestors was like a dream come true. Becoming Wolfie was a lot easier with someone to cover your absence. After all, it wasn’t just the old man and his cub on this adventure. Being greeted by someone new wielding the master sword was not something he thought he’d see again, especially not the man who forged it.

It was the man’s protege that sounded next. He had a feeling he was about to experience loss in an entirely new way since waking, and he wanted them all to know just how much they’d affected him. How much he loved them. How he wouldn’t forget them. “It well may be that we will never meet again in this lifetime, so let me say before we part... So much of me is made of what I learned from you. You’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart.”

Coming across a snarky, pantsless man was not as out of the norm as one would think. Someone completely lost and asking what the guardian carcasses were was. He helped the pink-haired man back to his camp. There he was assaulted with equally curious questions well into the night, especially once they recognized his sword.

They knew his name. He would’ve been suspicious if he didn’t feel such a strong sense of familiarity. He was almost afraid of the close brotherly bonds he was forming until they found the familiar face of an old companion. He knew then that no matter how much it would hurt in the end, he wanted to make long-lasting memories with these people.

“And now whatever way our stories end,” their eldest cut in, “I know you have re-written mine by being my friends.” To think, he and the mrs were just about to give up on having children. Now it was something they were looking forward to, and after having known these boys for the past several months, the old man felt slightly more prepared.

Contrarily, their youngest felt grossly unprepared. He didn’t know what he was going to do once the guys he’d grown attached to- lived with- fought together with... were gone. It was all too fast, and there was no new adventure or task given to throw himself into once he got home.

The young teen was choking on his tears. Through a watery and hazy filter, he could make out the face of a knight in shining armor, who he had been mentally referring as big brother, staring back at him in sad concern. No. That look wouldn’t do. The sailor needed to convey that he understood, that he was grateful to have this conversation, that he’d be okay.

“Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea. Like a seed dropped by a skybird in a distant wood. Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better? But because I knew you-“ He shakily gasped to compose himself. “Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t! He’s woken up in strange places before with no memory of how he got there. Looking around, he could see nothing but dark, rocky terrain. Okay, okay. He needed to breathe. He pulled out his compass and telescope.

Finding north, he started to slowly pivot with his telescope hoping to catch any sign of civilization. A giant blue gem filled his vision startling the boy onto his bum. Luckily, he’d met this blue-haired woman, though it had been quite a while.

This was going to be one heck of an adventure.

“And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness for the things I’ve done you blame me for.” Whether the Hero of the Sky was asking from those listening or from himself was unclear. He knew he couldn’t hold on to the darkness eating at him anymore. The guilt he felt for causing an eternal struggle for so many in his future was met with bafflement by his friends. Even if he could be held partly responsible for ‘causing’ their curse, there was no ill will directed towards him. Alas, the Spirit of the Hero had a tendency for self-blame, so he would ask for forgiveness, if only to release the negative emotions he had trapped in his throat.

“But then, I guess there’s blame to share.” The Hero of Time took the opportunity to apologize as well. He knew his meddling with time had caused the drastically different outcomes in history the group had experienced on their journey together. And though there was always a chance of death, the fact that he was alive while another timeline suffered Ganon’s rule left him with a sour taste.

“And none of it seems to matter anymore!” The Hero of Hyrule could understand their guilt and thoughts of inadequacy, but what is done is done. They had done their best for all good intentions, and no one begrudged them for it. What mattered now was that his friends had to leave, and he would be alone. Having an apocalyptic world like he did, he had never really lost much. Never really had much to begin with. This was all very new to him.

“Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun,” the smallest swordsman quoted from earlier.

He was just going through his same everyday routine when he met an older, scarred man outside town. He had been taken aback when the man had happily showed him his large sword. Most would’ve waved him off as a nosy child.

The blade was was impressive. Almost twice his height! Proudly centered in the middle of an angular hilt was the Goron symbol. It was incredibly sharp and looked perfectly balanced. He wondered if it was one of Biggoron’s works.

He would have never guessed what would happen next or the journey it would set him on. The man crouched down. Your name wouldn’t happen to be Link, would it?

“Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood.”

A humble traveler walked along a yellow, worn path. Just a little farther and he’d veer off to explore a cave he’d seen once. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry before, he would’ve already done so, but just as well, he was excited. He just couldn’t get adjusted to living in a castle. This was the first time in a while he was able to sneak away.

He met a couple strangers before the mouth of the cave. Not uncommon, he introduced himself. He had not expected they’d actually been looking for him. Confused, he let them lead the way through the cave to their campsite where he spent the night hearing tales of old spoken in first person.

He would still need to explore that cave.

“Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea,” a new voice sang softly.

He was running late. Again. Why was it so hard to wake up if he struggled to fall asleep in the first place? How did that make sense?

Finally, he could see the blacksmith’s wife outside waiting for him. Gulley was also outside playing with the cucco. Good. Less embarrassment when he got inside. Curse his decision to continue pursuing the craft.

He took a moment to breathe when Gulley spotted him and waved. The kid winced in sympathy knowing full well the apprentice was just buying time. Well, he couldn’t pretend to wheeze forever. No one bought it anyway.

Out of literally nowhere, a giant club swung by a hinox knocked him sideways. The mother and son ran inside screaming. He counted three and cursed, struggling to stand. How and why were hinox in Hyrule? He cursed again realizing he was legit wheezing now. Lucky hit.

He booked it to the shop avoiding bombs the cyclopes threw at him. Inside, he gently pushed past the three fussing over him and stared the blacksmith dead in the eye. He was tossed a newly tempered blade. He couldn’t let those monsters continue to live in Hyrule.

Shouts disrupted the anxious silence. He ran back outside and balked at a couple of kids running around avoiding bombs. Cursing at everything, it took the three of them about ten minutes to dispatch of the scarily strong oafs. He had to admit, he was impressed.

He could tell what was coming before they could even open their mouths. Goddesses! Could he not catch a break?

“Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood.”

What? Where was this? He didn’t even get any divine warning! Groose was surely throwing a fit over him vanishing mid-convo. He could only hope the goof wouldn’t do anything stupid searching for him.

A strange, repetitive thunking was drawing closer from behind. He dove out of the way of whatever the beast was, but it had actually come to a stop a few feet before him. A young man with long blonde hair hopped off its back asking if he were okay.

He struggled to answer staring wide-eyed over the man’s shoulder. How was she here? Who was this, and why was she with him?

The man stared back contemplating something in his silence. The stranger then called him by name and seemed proud of the reaction he got. He was getting dizzy from the amount of questions racing in his mind. How’d this guy know him? Why’d he have Fi with him?

Why did he feel so familiar?

“Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?”

Bumping into a large gentleman in the bazaar was not how he imagined a new adventure to start.

The man asked him if they’d met before. They racked their brains for a good half hour trying to remember where’d they knew each other from. It was only when Lana found them followed by a familiar face that pieces were starting to fall into place.

No, it wasn’t Lana’s doing, and she knew nothing of how either. She did, however, sense their presence and knew they were safer together. The old man was still a mystery, but Lana assured them this was fine. Maybe they’d remember later. They all had the Spirit of the Hero.

Suddenly, they were in a new town. The whiplash of everything changing in a blink made him nauseous. Whatever this was, at the very least, they were somewhat experienced.

“I do believe I have been changed for the better,” the Hero of Legend sang quietly, his flushed face partially hidden beneath his hair. Soft smiles were sent his way.

“And because I knew you,” the Hero of Twilight prompted.

“Because I knew you,” the Hero of Winds agreed.

“Because I knew you.” Streaks were running down the vet’s cheeks. He could never catch a break.

To be fair, there wasn’t a dry eye present.

“I have been changed...”

The unison voices drifted away along with anything not of the world one hero would be standing alone in.

“...for good...”

[emsartwork]

1. Aterix is my fan transformation based on the third gift of destiny in season 4! like it never made sense to me that the gift of wisdom gives you sophix, the gift of heart gives you lovix, but the “black gift” is used more like a magic object on someone else as opposed to increasing a persons magic in a specific way??? I’ll be designing and explaining more about those soon @mariloki4 2. The faunix designs are here, and i haven’t done their animals designs yet! 3. So in my version, guardian fairy is more of a title given to alfea enchantix graduates, they don’t really have any responsibilities to their planet or anything lol  @elf-from-the-ashes 4. hoo boy, like just from scratch visually with the plot the same??? probably not too different from what i draw now since i like to have the characters all look different, but again, if i have no starting point to jump off from i have no idea what decisions i would end up making haha 5. Thank you! and yes! I am planning on getting to world of winx and the season extras soon here. 6. lol right?? every transformation i try to do seomthign different with tecna’s hair cus she deserves it but sometimes its hard (also i am ALWAYS tempted to just cut the other girls’ hair like YOU get a pixie cut and YOU get a pixie cut EVERYBODY’S getting a pixie cut)  @theoretical-artist 7.  I drew daphne and diaspro here! i am gonna take another stab at diaspro soon tho, i don’t like what i did before 8. I don’t know that i have one? like whatever one im currently watching i get used to the voices eventually. Musa’s voice change in season 3 (idk which dub) is the only one that consistently bothers me 9. Sure! the hair color change is because i was trying to make her look less like a terrible clip art witch on crappy halloween decor lol. here are some other hcs! She likes to knit. She has sensitive skin and breaks out easily. She regrets what happened with Valtor, like she knows he needed to be stopped but wishes she could have saved him(this is primarily why she cuts the trix so much slack before expelling them) She’s a mix of a lot of different ethnicities(solarian, melodian, and zenithian are the strongest) and was born on Magix. 

10. Domino: Scotland/Ireland/tiny bit of China Solaria: Egypt/Greece/Italy Lynphea: Spain/Mexico/India/Persia Andros: Hawaii/Indonesia/Philipines/Afghanistan/ and weirdly a little bit of Canada towards the poles. Melody: Japan/China/tiny bit of Korea Zenith: Russia/Mongolia Eraklyon: England/France/Germany/Colombia Vaonaa: Australia/the USA if the pilgrims never happened Zhen: Mongolia/Korea Koyu: Turkey? this planet is a little fuzzy culture wise and the environment isn’t anything we have on earth.

11.  Domino: 2 Solaria: it varies. Lynphea: 1 Andros: 2 Melody: 3 Zenith: 4 Eraklyon: 2 Vaonaa: 2 Zhen: 1 Koyu: 3

12. these are gonna be a little sarcastic because of who i am as a person im sorry @beevolution Domino: Hi we’re not dead and we have some really great mountain resorts please help us rebuild our economy Solaria: Sunshine all the time! The latest fashions! Don’t get lost in the desert because you will never be found! Lynphea: If you want a relaxing cottage retreat in a meadow come here, if you want a DEATH DEFYING TOUR THROUGH THE MOST WILD TERRITORY OF THE MAGIX DIMENSION also come here. Andros: You like the ocean? you’ll like it here. You don’t like the ocean? fuck off. Melody: CONCERTS! LIVE SHOWS! LIVE TAPINGS! PERFORMING ARTS!!!!!!!!!  Zenith: Technological wonderland, probably have theme parks about technology. nerds.  Eraklyon: Wanna buy jewelry and not talk to people? this is the planet for you. Vaonaa: Wanna buy fabric and talk to a lot of people? this planet is for you. Zhen: *Communication and transport to ZHEN is currently unavailable. Please hang up and try again.* Koyu: bitch why tf would you come here our atmosphere is posion. I guess we have pretty lights and stones???

13. oh gosh i don’t know..... Im really bad at celebrities. I love gillian anderson’s voice, but she would probably voice one of the adults not one of the girls. I like zendaya, lana condor, aubrey plaza, and steaphanie beatriz too. but like. They’re all 22 and over. Ideally the actresses (voice or otherwise) would be 16-20 age wise.  14. @powerpuffninja934​ the wings can move a little! as long as the fairy isn’t trying to fly with the chronix wings they can move slowly. 15. Thank you! and that would be really fun! 16. I mean the short answer is yeah, they would. Fairy transformations are basically cheat codes. fairy magic is “earned” through little effort or practice on the part of the fairy its like a grenade, its powerful and wide range, but can cause unintentional damage. Anybody can throw a grenade, and there are different type of grenades for different purposed(flash, smoke, incendiary) but all of them can hurt innocent bystanders if not used correctly. Witch magic, and most of the masculine magic systems, is like a sniper rifle, it can take years and a lot of practice to gain a mastery of the tool, but has less risk of unintentional damage. if fairies had worse PR and weren’t thought of as “good” (compared to the witches PR being aligned with the ancestrals and “bad”) fairy transformations probably wouldn’t be allowed on the grounds that its unsafe and unnatural. @lowko​  17. So magic is like a type of radiation/energy. Core Magic is like the electrical impulses that run the human body, its normal, safe, and part of the body. Natural Magic is like sunshine, its normal, safe(in low doses), and necessary. Ethereal magic is like a nuclear bomb. Its insanely powerful, targeted, and created/manipulated by the ethereal fairies usually for a specific purpose. Wild magic is like a cross between a freshwater spring and a natural radiation/electricity source(lightning?) its normal and part of the environment, but its dangerous and unpredictable. it also only effects a small area around it.  Wild and natural magics work in tandem in the same areas. Natural sources are stable enough to link magic to(the resulting transformation is called danix), but wild magic is not. Natural sources can become/ be replaced by wild magic when the natural source is polluted, cursed, or threatened by a natural disaster. Its theorized that wild and natural magics have a limited level of consciousness, and when a natural source retreats, the wild magic takes over the sources mouth in an attempt to let the environment heal and ward off any threats. Wild magic sources can stabilize and be replaced by natural sources, but its less common. Bloom and Stella are linked to the dragon flame, and the second sun of solaria, which is where their titles come from, but the other girls aren’t linked to anything in specific and their titles are mostly personal preference. Hopefully this makes sense??? I’ll probably do a masterpost on how my magic system works here soon. 18. Yeah so i never really had a problem with the age gap because most of my friends growing up were 2-3 years younger/older than me. Also in my version Alfea is a legit college, so the average freshman age is like... 18/19? but you could technically attend whenever. 19. I love magix winx, harmonix, and bloomix! for least favorite.... butterflix................ and mythix........................... and sirenix.......(tho i do love the sirenix transformation sequence)

[seenashwrite]

A Fluff By Any Other Name

Word Count: 1.8K Category: One-shot, Domestic Family Fluff, Husband Dean, Reader Insert Mommy, Sam And Dogs, Practical Jokes, Meet Cute   Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, You, a Newborn, a Nurse Pairing(s): Dean + You Warnings: None Author’s Note: *This is a re-post minus tags and links in an effort to get it to show up in searches*; more post-story Overall Summary: Sam arrives at the hospital to meet his newborn niece.

Dean was waiting for Sam in the hallway.

“No flowers?”

“Uh, she hates flowers. Figured I’d ask what she wants for dinner, run get it.”

“Maybe I would’ve appreciated the flowers.”

“You know, I’m going to let this go, because you’ve had a long day, but not as long as hers, so—”

“Ask me.”

“Ask… what?”

“You know.”

“Dean, did you sneak some morphine, or whatever they’ve been—”

“Ask me what your niece’s name is. Actually, no - ask me what it’s not.”

His voice hadn’t ratcheted down to the deep-deep levels of pissed off - and, to be sure, there were several subtle variations Sam knew well, having been on the receiving end of all of them - but Dean was definitely serious, and had crossed his arms for good measure.

“I legit don’t know where you’re going with—-”

“The dogs. All your foster dogs. You took the good names.”

“Okay, now, that’s— I started volunteering way before she ever got pregnant, before you two even got serious, come to think of it. And I just chose a bunch of names that I thought of off the top of my—-”

“I picked up on that, yeah - around the time you used Jessie. And on that real jumpy, kinda twitchy one, which was extra weird. And was a boy.”

“Wait, wait - that was such a sweet dog, and besides - you really would’ve wanted to name your daughter after my dead fiancée?!”

“Oh, everybody’s dead, Sam!” Dean whisper-hissed. “And, no, not necessarily, but I do wonder what Jessica’d think about that…. about that…. what damn breed was that thing?”

“A mix.”

“Of?”

“A pooset and a corgat.”

“Sam. The hell.”

“A poodle-basset hound mix and a rat terrier-corgi mix shared a special hug—”

“So it’s a poocorgaset.”

Sam stared.

“Corsetpoogat.”

Sam brought a hand up, slowly rubbed his temples.

“Can I pull from the rest of the real names? I mean, ratbassgipoo is turning my crank.”

“But always the poo.”

“Of course always the poo, what the hell good does -dle do anybody?”

The nurse cleared her throat - she was leaning into the hallway, a leg and foot still in the room. “We’re done. Everything’s looking good. She said for you guys to come on in, but if you’re in the middle of…..”

“No! No, not at all. Hey, and this is my little brother, Sam. Sammy, this is our nurse, she’s been here the whole time, basically delivered Macka… Mmmuh… my kid.”

She raised her eyebrows at that, but smiled, extending her hand and shaking the one offered, introducing herself as Dean slipped past them.

“Uncle Sam, huh?”

“Uh-huh…. oh god, I just now realized that!”

“Eh… could be worse.”

“Yeah?”

“You could have a name that your nurse had to re-write on the birth certificate five times - twice for misspells, then again because she ran out of room. Me. I’m that person. We’re talking about me, here.”

“What was the fourth? Since there was a fifth?”

“Oh, well, that one? Can’t take credit for - under ‘father’s name’, the proud papa got a case of the jitters and wrote your father’s name.”

“Jeez, I’m so… I’m so sorry…”

Sam would’ve sounded sincere if he hadn’t burst out laughing, but she immediately joined in. And though he didn’t know it at the time, he would be sincere with her many more times than not, and he’d be getting plenty of it in return. Starting that night, when he’d ask if she’d be interested in getting coffee sometime. She would be tips-to-toes sincere when saying she hoped to hear from him soon.

They’d still keep bursting into laughter, amongst and in between the sincere times, over a million different things through the years. There’d be the breath-stealing kind, prompted by the action of more amusing-than-scary hunts; the gasp-induced kind, stemming out of nervous relief over the hunts that weren’t; and her favorite, the bent-over, knotted-into-cramps kind, resulting from drunken Dean tales of hunts long past. And then his favorite, when the Winchester kids were raising hell, and there was nothing to do but laugh.

This time, this first time, after the birth of their niece, in the moment they’d met, would ultimately get ranked as the best, though it was followed closely by the tear-tinged round that erupted after another first, when they heard the justice of the peace say the words “husband and wife”.

But that’s another story.

For now, Sam closed the door quietly before tip-toeing to the bed, bending and giving you a kiss on the forehead. He glanced over to the bassinet and back, saying, “Nice work.”

“Work is right.”

Dean was seated in an armchair next to your bed, unlacing his boots, but paused and looked up at this, tacking on a clarification. “Work is damn right.”

You winked in acknowledgment before speaking again. “So listen, while I’ve got you both—-”

“We in trouble already?” Dean asked, changing his seat from the chair to the opposite side of the bed, perching near the end.

“—-I wanted to make sure you knew that I haven’t totally lost my marbles with the name, and I know that’s what you’re both thinking.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Dean just held up his hands in a sort-of surrender.

“Babe, I know I said I’d be fine with whatever you chose, but we ain’t lied to each other yet, and wow - it’s horrible.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t worry. It’s an old family name, and, I mean… we could squeak a nickname out of it… probably… you know how some of these Gaelic names are, it’s hard to tell how to pronounce them on sight.”

“So how’s it pronounced?” Sam asked.

“Get ready,” Dean muttered.

And Sam’s jaw dropped briefly as something largely incomprehensible - possibly worse than the name was on paper - came out of your mouth. “Sis?” he said.

“Bro?”

“That’s beyond horrible.”

“Yeah, it is. It is a vicious eyesore that she won’t be able to spell for who-knows-how-long, it makes ears bleed, and I’m a garbage parent for it, though I will point out her father was zero help.”

Now Dean’s jaw dropped, but clearly in faux offense. “I resent that - ‘cause every name I said I liked….”

“….every name we agreed on, that we loved for her….”

“….was already a dog’s name.”

You and Dean turned your heads in unison, leveling looks at Sam.

“I can’t have taken up all of them—-”

“Mary.”

“Jane.”

“Which also took out Mary Jane.”

“Erica.”

“Charlotte.”

“Bobby, which took away ‘Bobbie’.”

“Sandra.”

Dean wrinkled his nose, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“Right, right - not your fave. But we even would’ve been fine with Anne.”

“I haven’t named any of them Sandra or Anne,” Sam pointed out.

“No, but you did name that fire-engine-red cocker spaniel, the one that wouldn’t stop crawling into my lap, Anna - which was a real cute move, by the way,” Dean shot back.

“We’d already 86′d Anna, on your request, and I still haven’t heard that whole story,” you said, jabbing a finger into Dean’s chest before jabbing it in the air at Sam. “The one that really pissed me off? And I get to be pissed off because of the disaster that currently is my—”

“Whoa!” Dean interjected.

You gave him brief but pointed side-eye before getting back to fussing at Sam. “Millie. You took Millie. And she was an adorable dachshund, an absolute doll, but, I mean, come on.”

The tone of your voice had changed, leaving the realm of good-natured teasing and stepping into something akin to disappointment. It wasn’t lost on Sam, who looked to his shoes, swallowing. Then he let his gaze drift to the bassinet, keeping it there even as you went on, though now with gentle care.

“But I get it. We get it.”

“Get what?”

“That menagerie of furry fluff. Thinking they’re it. Only kids you’ll ever have.”

Sam was completely focused, spellbound by the rise-and-fall of the tiny, striped-blanket-bundle’s easy breaths.

Dean’s voice now, definitely deep, definitely serious, definitely one of the subtle variations Sam valued above all the rest, the slightly scolding one that hid a bottomless well of love.

“Can’t know the future, Sammy. I know sometimes we have, but…. nothing’s in stone. I sure as hell didn’t picture this for me. Ever.”  

Sam nodded - it was true, just didn’t feel like it.

“And even if it was? Written in stone? Find another big-ass hammer, grenade launcher, whatever - lay waste, kiddo,” you added.

The baby suddenly jolted herself with a sneeze, causing a reciprocal jolt across her audience. She shifted a little, smacked her lips a few times, didn’t show the first indication of waking up, that anything in her brand new world was even slightly out-of-sorts. Her uncle briefly thought on the realization of how hard he’d fight to keep her in such a place as he brought his eyes back to her parents.

And was surprised to find them grinning.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Check out her bracelet,” Dean said.

Sam looked to you, received a nod.

“Go ahead,” you said. “She won’t notice.”

She didn’t, but did get a hell of a grip on a finger of the hand that moved her arm, so he slid the bracelet around with a few fingers of his free hand. Sam fought his own grin as he tucked her arm back under the blanket. Well, mostly - he opted to leave her hand out, let the grip remain for as long as she was willing to hold on to him, then raised an eyebrow at his shoulder-shaking, snickering brother.

Dean kept it up as he edged to the head of the bed, scooting in next to you best he could in the cramped space, quieting only when he let his eyes close, no need to see as he tilted on his side, laced his fingers through yours like he’d done a million times before, the metal of matching angel-blessed bands briefly clinking.

“So your nurse… she was in on this?” Sam asked you.

You shrugged. “Except the father’s name snafu - that part was 100% true.”

Eyes still closed, Dean briefly gave a thumbs-up, took your hand again, went back to his dozing.

You shook your head at him a little, though a smile was on your face as you went on. “She’s the whole package, my man.”

Sam smiled, too. “Yeah. I noticed that.”

“Thought you might.”

“Speaking of thoughts, what made you think of it? Not the prank, I mean—”

“Turns out, my great-grandmother had a nice, simple, easily pronounceable, no-brainer spelling, peach of a maiden name.”

“And the story on this middle name?”

“She’ll prove herself worthy.”

“Hardy-har-har,” Sam replied flatly, but still with a smile.

“It was the first name on both our lists…”

Even in the dim light, you saw his eyes go shiny.

“….and, we hedged our bets - figured even if you ran out of ideas, you’d never name one of your fluffs after yourself. Thought we’d do it for you.”

.

Author’s Note #2: There’s some fun background behind this story (such as the bit about the crazy name prank & how the story came to be in the first place), and if you care to know it, look at the end of the original post of this story, which you can find via my Master Story Post (see below)!

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

[phantomphangphucker]

Lexospooky

“Hey dude, you been online lately” Tucker walks up to Danny sounding both concerned and amused

“Hey and last night Yeah.” Closing his locker he turns to Tucker

“Had to Post up my Lexx reveal before Sunday ended” chuckling “ain’t a reveal weekend if I don’t post on the weekend“

Tucker face palms and sighs “I can’t believe you even participated in that”

“Hey what can I say I like a good joke”

“Well the “joke” just bit you in the ass”

“Oh come on Tucker, some lost sleep and making my phandom even weirder is hardly a bite in the ass” dismissing Tucker with a hand wave as they start off towards class.

Just before class starts Sam sends him a text reading “you absolute fucking moron” with a link to his Lexx blog. Chuckling Danny shakes his head.

Tucker leaning over his shoulder cause he’s a nosey bitch “you always find new ways to lower her faith in you, don’t you”

“It means I’m doing my job!” Danny chuckles.

Tucker shakes his head knowing Danny ain’t gonna check the link. Sweet Plasmius was the halfa in for a shock.

As class comes to a close and the trio has finally put away the days school gear.

“I’m going to guess that Tucker hasn’t yet told you how much of an utter moron you are” Sam says judgingly with raised eyebrow.

“Jeez, what is this? Call Danny a moron day?” Danny exclaims arms outstretched in his two friends general direction. “Is this still about the Lexx thing?” Danny assumes that based off their exasperated and judging looks that it was. “That was all in good fun! Everyone had a good time!”

“Dude, you should really actually go online”

“Oh and here I thought you guys felt I was pouring too much time lately into the whole Phantom phandom thing?” Rolling his eyes at them “since the whole Lexx reveal is finally done, I can take a break.”

“Oh my Plasmius” Sam sighs as she runs a palm down her entire face.

“What? I’d figure you guys would’ve been happy to be free from Lexx stuff” Danny is genuinely confused. Then witha shit eating grin “aww did it finally grow on you, needing your daily Lexx fix?”

“Christ dude, you like really need to learn to read things before you post them” Tucker chuckles shaking his head as the trio walk to the park.

“What do you mean?” Danny eyes widening “Oh Plasmius did I misspell a bunch of things or forget to actually link my main?” Tucker just glares at him

“Oh I totally did, wow that’s a fail” facepalming Danny whips out his phone just as Tucker says

“Oh no you definitely exposed yourself, you exposed yourself real good”

Which earned the lot of them a glare from some lady pushing a stroller. Causing all three to burst out laughing and Danny to drop his phone.

“Well shit, everyone press F” Danny says staring defeatedly at the phone laying undamaged on the ground. Sam basically kicks the phone into the air for Danny to catch, which he does. While Tucker stares on in horror.

“Sam! How could you! That’s phone abuse!” He yells half joking.

“Oh and you eat animal abuse” Sam retorts eye rolling. The two continue on exchanging witty banter but Danny has totally checked out; in lue of staring at the chaos of notifications on his phone. With a completely puzzled expression he wonders out loud “what the? I know the Lexx thing was big but this is absurd”

Noticing, Sam and Tucker stop and simply watch him bemusedly.

While Danny just stares down at his Lexx blog, Lexospooky, the number one most popular post being his Lexx reveal. It’s bombarded by replies and when he clicks on the first one he knows why.

“Dude, you outed yourself as freaking Phantom” Tucker says just as he noticed Danny’s eyes going wide.

“Oh Plasmius, Christ, well fuck me and call me completely dead” Danny sits down on a bench to steady himself as he looks on in horror at the thousands of asks, submissions and dms he has, all about his identity as Phantom.

“Like I said dude, proof read.” Tucker says with added finger guns

“I think I’d prefer actual guns over this-“ gesturing at his phone with both hands like it just committed murder “-mess”.

Glaring at Tucker “dude why didn’t you like tell me this as soon as you could?”

Chuckling Tucker flicks Danny’s phone and replies “you made your grave buddy”

Sam simply sighs. “I don’t even know how you mess up so badly.” Shaking her head “not only did you word for word say “I’m Danny Phantom” but you even put in one of your silly selfies!”

“It was supposed to be my mains icon!” Danny whines indignantly.

“Oh you don’t say Danny, because I totally thought that you legit wanted to post a shit for brains Phantom selfie. Totally thought you wanted to out yourself to your own fandom and then ignore the replies” Sam states with extremely thick sarcasm, as Tucker just laughs.

“Whelp whatever, I might aswell mess with it” Danny shrugs as he replies to the first ask, asking him if he really is Phantom; with “it’s a lie! I’m not a ghost!”

Mean while an entire fandom has been collectively losing its shit. People have called off work, skipped school, and d-o-t-s has had exactly 7 aneurisms.

[takaraphoenix]

Review: 03x13 Beati Bellicosi

So @kimmycup and I finished the episode!

Let’s start with the wolves and vampires - and my favorite line of this episode:

Wolves don’t just attack without a cause. Not in New York.

Bitch, that is the opposite of the New York pack. They literally do that. They do that. Bat Velasquez is one of the living breathing proofs for that because he got attacked and turned without a cause and consent by members of the New York pack. They went and attacked Simon while he was peacefully living on their territory, without any cause just because they were bothered by his presence. Maia tried to fucking murder Jace the first time she met him just because he didn’t have time to help her in that instance and, without actual hard proof, she assumed he murdered Gretel so let’s attack him without legitimate cause. Maia, again, also tried to straight-up murder Clary so she wouldn’t be able to activate the Soul Sword in season 2. Attacking without a cause is the New York pack’s MO, literally.

How do multiple praetors fail to catch one newbie vampire? She is not very trained, she is all alone, how did those trained praetors, not even just normal wolves, not manage to capture that bitch yet? How is that a thing? What even are praetors because they sure as shit seem rather useless. I thought they were a specially trained force. But they, in a group, can’t even take down one vampire, huh.

And then Griffin thinks it’s legitimate to slaughter the pack... because the praetors accused them of hiding Heidi, which honestly while wrong in that moment was right in the next when Heidi was welcomed back in and was also right in the scene before Jordan arrived when Heidi was in the Hotel and talking to Griffin already. Not to mention the whole fact that Raphael turned her without telling anyone and kept her hidden in the basement so like... not believing the New York clan about anything involving Heidi is really not much of a “You don’t trust us because we are vampires!” issue, you do not get to play the racist card there because you, your clan, literally did all of that not even a month ago. And it by no means justifies slaughtering nearly the entire damn pack.

I mean, yes, it was in fact not “good authority” that brought Jordan to the hotel. Like, boy needs to fact check shit, but it still stands that Heidi had been there prior to it and after and that the New York clan hiding Heidi in the basement is literally how this whole shit-show started so Griffin’s gotta get off his high horse.

Now let’s talk about family.

One aspect of the addiction plotline that I hated was how Alec so irrationally got angry with Magnus for not immediately telling him Isabelle was addicted... but no one even thought about telling Jace, who supposedly is also her brother, until the whole thing was already over. And we’re going to do this again, huh? We’re going to do this Alec and Izzy style again and not tell Jace until it’s over.

Same for the whole Downworlders getting tortured part - I mean, I still stand by how Izzy’s reaction to this is fucking ridiculous because this is not news. Like, yes Downworlders getting tortured is bad and shouldn’t happen, but they already know this happens. This isn’t news? So why you acting all high and mighty and morally superior? And like “this isn’t how [Maryse] raised us” - bitch, it is. It is exactly how she raised you because it is how y’all have been doing business from the get-go. You, dearest Alec, literally had an outfall with Izzy over Meliorn being taken in to be tortured in season 1. That was kind of a big deal, so don’t act like this was never the case.

Look, you can have character development and growth. You can have Alec and Isabelle growing as characters and now being against torture. But you don’t get to sell them as completely oblivious idiots who didn’t know this has been going on the whole time, that’s bullshit.

Now, the Lightwood family is not the only one I take issue with.

How do we not get any Luke and Clary bonding at all? This show so desperately tries to sell Luke as Clary’s father figure, but let’s take a step back from how much we want that and look at the actual canon facts. Luke didn’t take Clary in after her mom died; she lived with strangers at the Institute. Luke wasn’t there to mourn Jocelyn with Clary, he went on a run to mourn alone. We never got any shared mourning between Clary and Jocelyn. And now? Now that she is back from the dead? He doesn’t even spend one single day just... being with his daughter? To, I don’t know, be there for her, catch up with each other? Instead he goes and investigates with... Maryse. This could have been a good bonding moment for Luke and Clary. They could have investigated the Morning Star sword together, as father and daughter.

But the show oh-so desperately had to sell its ships. So let’s talk about ships.

It’s not even been two months since Jocelyn died. Not even two months. The woman Luke has loved for two decades. Dead for approximately like six weeks. But... he’s kissing Maryse, a woman he supposedly had bad blood and history with through the Circle and the treatment after the Circle ended. But sure, the exactly three (3) interactions they had since Maryse was deruned totally qualify for Luke moving on from the woman he loved for two decades to... her, of all people. I’m not saying you gotta be a mourning widower for the rest of your life, but two months are a pathetic mourning period if you loved someone for this long and it is majorly cringeworthy that they are forcing romance to happen there, instead of spending Luke’s screentime on the above mentioned potential bonding with his daughter. This is a ridiculous decision, writing-wise.

Maia and Simon acting like they had some epic, all rules defying romance is ridiculous. They were dating for literally three weeks. Literally three weeks. That’s... most people wouldn’t even define that as a relationship. Look. I liked them, I actually did like Maia and Simon together so this isn’t meant as “I hate this ship, it ain’t epic!!!”, but as “You really can not define a two weeks relationship as epic”. Because, quite frankly, you didn’t manage to defy the stereotype that a wolf and a vampire can’t date - because in the end, the wolf chose her pack over her vampire boyfriend so like... What you said made no sense, is my point. And it’s also so insanely forced. I mean, this breakup has been coming for the past two episodes now and them now going “Maia needs to put the pack first so she breaks up with Simon so we can finally make S*zzy happen1!!” is... once again, a ridiculous decision.

I genuinely don’t even wanna talk about Jace and Clary. It’s been less than two weeks that they’re together. Jace has expressed how he wants to take it slow. But sure. Let’s have sex right now, once again without anything emotional tying them together. They will never bother with writing this as an actual relationship, will they? Like? There is no interest in their emotional state of mind, no concern “So, Jace, now that I just returned, how are you doing post possession?”, nope it’s immediately “Can we fuck now?” and they do. How is beyond me though. Like, how can Clary legit be horny enough that “So I’m emotionally linked to my brother. Let’s fuck and give him a good orgasm then, huh” isn’t enough to put her off?? This is just... insanity.

Other random observations:

I feel like what best summarizes this season, if not the entire show, is the fact that Simon literally just met a Biblical figure who is very much alive, and it is just legitimately used as a throwaway line. Like. That’s the pacing and cramming of this series. We have so much going on that we can’t even take five minutes to have this Jewish character sit down and digest that he met the Cain and to like deal with that and his faith. No, it’s just one throwaway line that that’s a thing that happened and then we gotta move on.

So Silent Brothers illustrate novels now, huh. That’s a thing Silent Brothers do now, yeah. I mean, if this were... like... an actual copy of a Bible or something. But Paradise Lost is just... it’s a story. Sure, sure, sure, we treat it as A Real Thing, apparently, but it’s still just a book. And the Silent Brothers just... illustrate those now. With enough accuracy that you can make out the super rare rune that binds Lucy and Mike, yeah? That’s a thing. Of course. Because they were “special seer Silent Brothers”, so we’re... implying they actually witnessed this fight between Lucy and Mike and got a good enough look at their bare shoulders to illustrate the rune, yeah? That’s what we’re going with, huh?

Also, hot damn. They are doubling down hard on the “metaphor” - I don’t think you can, in good faith, call it a metaphor anymore because those always do need a little translating. They literally called Jonathan Morgenstern and made him the demon-blooded one. While Clary is the super pure mega special angelic angel girl. And now they share the runes of Lucifer, aka the actual Morgenstern/Morning Star, and Michael, the super mega special angel. That ain’t even a metaphor anymore.

Do Shadowhunter doctors even exist? When Jace nearly died, well one of those times anyway, he got healed by Clary, aka the most untrained Shadowhunter at the time. When Izzy was badly injured and wanted to go to the Iron Sisters, she did not go to any actual doctor in the Institute, she got her special vamp-drugs directly from the head of the Instistute and did not ask any doctors for second opinion either. Clary, in her infinitey stupidity, decides to just go with it and try to derune that magic special rune that the mother of all demons put on her, and it’s not done by a specialist with training, it’s just done by Jace. Do they have anyone with special medical training anywhere in that Institute, is what I’m asking.

I don’t know. I’m just so tired at this point.

TL;DR:

This show is 100% driven by ships. Characters make decisions only based on what ship the show really needs to sell, be that Luke suddenly asking Maryse for help instead of bonding with his daughter, or Clary and Jace just randomly having sex despite all the trauma Jace has been through since the last time he said he isn’t ready yet and wants to take things slow, or how Maia breaks up with Simon so the show can make S*zzy happen. It’s insane. Please stop being horny, show-writers, I beg you

Wolves are dumb. There is no other way to phrase that

Vampires though? Also not the brightest. How do you let Heidi manipulate you like that, Griffin? Raphael needs to come back

Stop pretending like the Lightwood sibling bond is a special thing applied to Alec-Isabelle-Jace if you keep excluding Jace

Silent Brothers like illustrating novels in their free time, who’d have thought

If they try to hit us over the head any harder with the Jonathan MORGENSTERN = Lucifer and Clary = oh so pure good angel metaphor, I’ma get a concussion from it

[akaskira]

My Favourite Songs of Hosoya Yoshimasa

I don't think I need to say how much I love him. One of the factors that lead me to be such a fangirl was because of his singing. Below, I shall document some of my favourites and tell my story. Characters included. Click on the names for links!!

Clutch time - Hyuuga Junpei in KnB

This was one of the first songs I heard of Hosoya, purely due to curiosity, and then I was just like WTF. I wasn't expecting anything and didn't think that this guy, who has such a deep voice, can sing in such a high pitch. The start just took me away. After that, I found it amusing cause he turned pissed lol but that was surprising too. But everything basically escalated from just hearing this song.

Ashita e no Last Race - Yamazaki Sousuke in Free!

Just Wanna Know is also good, but I prefer this song. The start was beautiful af, and I was just amazed. The song is so sad I felt a little emotional. It's just so beautiful. Sousuke is fucking beautiful. Hosoya is so beautiful.

Kaze no Requiem - Nezumi in No.6

I literally teared up the first time I heard this song. This song is just.... really beautiful (I've been using this word too much) and the lyrics mean a lot too. And I repeat: this is the anime that saved Hosoya. So this song kind of saved him in a way. This other song: Buna no Mori de is also a nice one. 

Boku ni Totte - Yamato Ishida in Digimon Adventure Tri.

This song seems a little not-like Hosoya, especially with the beginning, but it turned out really nice too. Definitely recommend a listen. And his "kimi ja nakya" killed me lol. (Translates to something like "it can only be you")

Song for You - Shiraishi Kuranosuke

SO MANY FEELS. Listen to the Shiraishi Kuranosuke Concert version, it’s much nicer there I swear. I already cried while watching the concert, and cried a river when he sang this song. It's such UGH so so so fucking nice. Please have a listen to this song, as well as the whole concert! (This song is about 47 minutes in the concert).

Other favourites in the concert: Ecstasy,  l.ng (apparently Hosoya wrote some of the lyrics or sth), Get Started, Kaburiel Hakusho, Go on, Prayer, Ashiato, etc.

I feel like I should try to translate his songs but idk and copyright

Lost in Thoughts All Alone - Shigure in Fire Emblem Fates

Again, fell in love with the first line. This is a song I play on repeat Everyday and just indulge myself in this slow song. A song that is so peaceful it’ll bring you to sleep. Also what the heck is this (Shigure being our boyfriend???) haha I’m dead. 

OTHER SONGS BECAUSE WHY NOT

Tengenji Kakeru: Angel Lost (Just like the song title, this is angelic and totally made me cry) 

Haruto Kirishima: Kimi no Iru Machi (Ending song for the anime: Kimi no Iru Machi sang by the one and only) 

Trurugi Yashiro: Under the Moon (Yet another nice song)

Yuuki Tetsuya: Billion Swings (A manly yet good song proving the efforts of this character from Diamond of Ace) 

Perabu: Little Happy Days (with Kimura Ryohei, Maeno Tomoaki, KENN, Kakihara Tetsuya) 

Okay, I ranted enough. If you read until the end, congrats to you XD I will forever and ever share my love for this talented person. Looking forward to the day I meet or hear Hosoya singing live. I will legit cry like a baby. 

Thank you for reading!!

[pingou7]

A car, two cops and a stardust — a RebelCaptain road trip fic

by @pingou7 pingou  for @thestarbirdfromtheashesStarbird

(aka the Road trip fic Diego Luna’s filmography made me write)

Read and enjoy, and please consider leaving me a few words.

Summary:

As the dusty roads criss under Kes Dameron’s old car, Cassian Andor lets the wind mess with his hair through the open window. Dust, sunshine, laughter, its easy to recapture the taste of days long gone.

(…)

At a gas station near Corpus Chirsti, when they climb back after taking a piss, both jump out of their skins as a random brunette, eyes thunderous, hisses dangerously from the backseat:

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

Update: Part 6 is (finally) up... seriously guys we’re not dreaming.

(I dedicate this one to @sleepykalena AGAIN because she’s a great support for me and this fic especially and to @shotgunkitten cause why not?)

Read more on AO3 (or under the cut)

Part 6 — From Caborca, Sonora, Mexico to Delicias, Chihuahua Day 4

There’s palpable anticipation when Kes, Jyn and Cassian find themselves in a secluded spot in the motel they’ve just spent the night at.

Despite his innuendos from the night before, Dameron is quick to grasp the seriousness of whatever Jyn — finally — intends to disclose. After a hushed chat between the Charolastras, both are ready to hear her, with copious amounts of tea and coffee at hand, if necessary.

She swings a bit on her chair as she sits, her bag hitting the table with a clatter. She tries so hard to appear casual that it makes Cassian smirk, until she says:

“Let’s just get on with it, shall we? Tell me what you got on me and I’ll fill the blanks as I see fit.”

“You’ll fill us in as much as we ask, you mean. I’ve got quite enough of your secrets Jyn. If you trust us, then you do it all the way, there’s no in between.”

She glares at him, but Cassian holds his ground and Kes legit produces a pad and a pen, already preparing to take notes the old fashioned way. She looks cornered but she complies eventually, crossing her arms sullenly:

“My parents were scientists. He was an engineer, a prodigy who tended to put his research above anything else. She was a geologist, somewhat mystical, she’d also been a political activist at the time they had me. Long story short, when his work caught up with us, my mother paid the ultimate price. That’s how I ended up with Saw Gererra, after they... I mean, he came for me when I was eight.”

The name wouldn’t startle them if not for Kay’s data last night. Apparently the guy was pretty notorious for doing shady stuff in foreign countries, and suddenly Jyn’s secrecy makes more sense. While they did not expect her to go back that far, Kes’ eyebrows shoot up next to him, trying to picture what kind of unorthodox childhood she might have had, and gestures for her to continue:

“Saw took me around, in some cringing neighborhoods worldwide and pretty often in middle of war zones. Needless to say, I haven’t had quite the schooling my being born in the UK would imply. He was a bit of a mercenary and I picked up the job pretty early. Still I was safer with him than I would have been with my father. That’s too bad Bodhi couldn’t say the same though...”

“Hold on here, it’s confusing,” Kes interrupts.

“Told you it was bigger than what you can handle.”

“We don’t want to handle anything, just get the picture straight. So, let’s start with this Saw. Saw Gererra, right? He was a mercenary you said.”

“Of a sort. He was like, the saint patron of lost causes, only there wasn’t anything saint about him. If he knew of a conflict, he got involved.”

It’s plain to see she edits a lot of stuff, but the guy is reported deceased, so he doesn’t matter much in their grand scheme of things. Knowing bits of her past is nice and all, but it doesn’t explain why she felt obliged to hop on their car at the gas station. Besides, they somewhat got the gist of her numerous travels listed — under different names — in the file Kay somehow managed to sort out.

“And how is he linked to your current predicament?”

“He was my legal guardian. That is, not so much legal, more like official,” she corrects wryly with a bittersweet smile that makes her look wearier, harsher. “Saw didn’t abide by the constitutional laws, only counted the goals he deemed to be right, for the greater good. And sod off the souls that got corrupted in the process or even casualties that bloodied his path.”

“What do you mean, Gerrera was a terrorist?”

They knew as much already, from the file. But Jyn doesn’t know that and she may have a more nuanced perspective. Knowing her as they do by now, she doesn’t disappoint:

“Some say he was,” she says softly, “but even now I don’t think it was that. He got increasingly lost, I think, and desperate too, in his headlong rush, even after dropping me, considering what he did to Bodhi. He was a bit extreme, that’s for sure, but if anyone is involved in terrorism now, it’s my father.”

You could hear a pin drop. Her declarations were windy — for her standards — but broken, and yet there is no sound of Dameron’s pen scribbling away. Personally, Cassian is sure his brain just court-circuited or something. Jyn’s tone would not have been more neutral if she had talked about the weather, yet the loathing burns, brimming in her eyes and they know she’s dead serious this time around.

Galen Erso’s hereabouts are currently classified, he remembers reading last night. It's pretty suspicious, after all, the only piece of information they have is that some people are currently looking for him, and so her too, perhaps. Of all the possibilities that had crossed their minds yesterday, terrorism had not been on the radar.

“You have proof regarding your allegations?” Kes asks neutrally.

“What happened to trust, guys,” she accuses instantly, “if there’s no honor amongst thieves, you’re no better!”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We believe you, all right?”

“That’s good to know,” replies Cassian looking at his contrite best friend and the woman still agitated across from him, trying to process everything.

“I take it you don’t, Cassian? After all your pestering, you think I’m lying?”

“No, I believe you, I do. But I don’t get what the deal is, yet. I mean, you have no contact whatsoever with your father, right?”

“No,” she says curtly.

“Then I don’t get why people seeking him would force you to flee like that, even if they’re bad guys.”

“Good guys, bad guys, it’s all a matter of perspective, really. Both sides of the moral spectrum had me on the run at one point or another.”

“You’re a good target, then?” Dameron goads boldly, probably trying to provoke her.

“I’m used to be one, so take care of not becoming one too. People have the tendency to leave or die when dealing with me. You have a family.”

From anybody else, it would sound like a warning, perhaps a threat, even. Some of these declarations have already been said at the precinct, as a matter of fact. Only there’s real anguish on her face, and as much as it feels like it, they are not interrogating a suspect.

That also means they don’t have to keep their distance, so Kes shrugs, sending her a gentle smile as Cassian reaches out to squeeze her fingers curled in front of him. She doesn’t shy away from it. Instead, she grips his fingers in an iron grip that belies the calm facade she somewhat maintains and starts to rant again:

“You don’t understand, Saw used weapons, taught me how as well, but my... Galen Erso conceives mass destruction ones. He’s wanted, by cartels or separatists or religious fanatics, who knows? Or maybe it the other side that seeks him, governments, federal agencies? I don’t know!”

For one usually so collected, her tirade boarders on hysteria and more than what she’s saying, it’s her emotional state that has the two cops spooked. Gone is the funny but guarded Stardust, gone is the woman that Cassian was perhaps a tad smitten with.

“Listen Jyn, it’s not as bad as you make it to be, as far as we know. Your father’s intel is classified, not unknown in our database. That means there’s records of him somewhere, okay? Perhaps he is even working for the States, on a secret project and you might be safe from law.”

“Perhaps, but Bodhi too thought there was no harm in doing my father a favor, to help “making things right again”, to quote him verbatim. He had a job he liked, a family and he was healthy. He just had to get Galen’s message to Saw, that’s all. But nothing has been the same since.”

“What do you mean, he was hurt then?”

“Do you hear what I’m saying? Of course he was! Look, I don’t precisely know what Saw did to force the information out of Bodhi, as if he wasn't so desperately willing to share it regardless. Whatever it was, it destroyed him mentally, and I couldn’t bring him grief like that again. It took so long to patch him up after that...“

“Easy here, Jyn,” Kes coaxes slowly, using a soothing voice he had perfected on Poe, “you don’t have to rush, take your time.”

While her face remains tightly closed off, her voice shook with a pain she has more and more difficulty concealing. For Cassian too her erratic flow means the big picture is hard to grasp still, but he caught enough elements to satisfy his curiosity. Of course Dameron is nothing if not thorough, once in professional mode, so against Cassian’s protective instinct, she resumes her tale, closing her eyes:

“Truth is, when people came, I panicked okay? I’ve spent my whole life trying to ignore that I am the daughter of Galen Erso. Told you, Bodhi had already suffered so much because of my father and my guardian. Couldn’t put him through this mess again. So I bolted.”

“At the gas station?”

“No, my flat. Some guys in black knocked on the door, but Baze, our friend, was thankfully the one answering. They were asking for me, looking for my father. I fled. Ran, took the train, walked some, ended up at said station. I just wanted to get some power bars. Things escalated quickly and you know the rest.”

They might know what happened from there, but the real question was what should happen from now on. Reflexively, Cassian’s tongue toys a bit with the front of his mouth, passing on his lips, and Kes catches it as the sign of nerves it is. Sighing as he closes his pad and pours himself a caf, he asks:

“What do you plan to do then Jyn, this cannot go on forever.”

Suddenly Cassian detects too many responses dancing in her irises, making her eyes shimmer so much that she doesn’t resist when he yields to his impulse and pulls her to his chest. Soon Kes puts his hand on her shoulder from behind and looks over her head at Cassian, sincerely worried.

She has no answer to give them yet and they don't wish to push her further.

Eventually, they decide to get going, as Delicias is still far away. By a non spoken agreement, her situation is not broached again as they climb back into the car. Her long talk has apparently left her drained, and she closes her eyes in the backseat. However, Cassian is still grasping at straws, turning things around in his head, hoping he’d figure a way to piece together what he should to do about her.

Jyn’s essentially a quiet person. She can talk and banter but only in short periods of time, lest she becomes edgy. He doesn’t mind, now that he knows more about her. He is not put out by her silence anymore, now that he knows she’ll completely fill him in. He can allow her the luxury of time, now that he knows for sure they do have some to spare.

He can, he will.

“Hey, stop pendejo, who’s freaked out now? We have some time to figure her out okay? Be professional Andor, think like the cop you are,” Kes whispers softly in Spanish, mindful to keep his voice low.

He knows that. To be truthful Cassian doesn’t fear her bolting at a moment’s notice anymore. He’s just left a little dazed by all the facts they have to ponder on.

Three hours later, in Hermosillo, they decide to rotate after pausing for a childish snacks of crisps, sandwiches and quite a few sweets. Shara would be screeching about the poor example they’d offer Poe, and Kay would surely rant about rotting teeth and the dangers of unbalanced diet and junk food in general... At this simple thought, Cassian wants to sigh already. But when Jyn is the one to ask for the wheel — she needs something to do — Dameron amazingly lets her.

Exceptionally, he’s the one upfront with her, indicating their next stop while Cassian takes the backseat and picks some random sweet to chew on. He hopes she doesn’t catch him texting a few leaks about Galen Erso to Kay. Thankfully Kes provides a good distraction as he engages in an air drumming so wild Jyn inquires:

“Do you play of an instrument guys?”

“I can strum my way on a guitar,” Cassian says immediately, to broadcast how little attention he pays to his phone, like it was some casual texting, because it’s precisely not that. “But cursí here is the real musical prodigy.”

“Hence the Charolastras...”

“Yep, I can play the guitar, banjo, ukulele, clarinet, accordion... I just like music.”

“I couldn’t tell with your horrendous sappy songs, though,” Jyn quips, igniting the guys’ laughter. “I’m impressed! My mother wanted me to learn the violin, I think, when I was a child. But I’ve forgotten everything.”

“Actually, I know some violin too, I can teach you, if you’d like?”

“Perhaps,” she smiles neutrally, keeping her tone guarded.

Cassian would like for Kes to teach her too, he’s not even envious. That would mean they would hang out around each other longer, so every scheme is good enough, as far as he’s concerned.

They arrive in Delicias at last, legs cramped and heads pounding. After a quiet dinner at Bandido's Steak House — Jyn has a fleeting smile when she sees the name, but tacos are good there — they don't check in hotels this time, but park in front of a shabby house. The city may be nice, but it's relatively unsafe to drive nightly around these parts and they're beat anyway.

She doesn't comment when Cassian conjures a key up and let them in the dusty shelter. Kes groans, already pulling out his phone then swears because he missed his son's bedtime. At first, they had planned to visit a bit, enjoy the travelling a bit more, but Jyn's talk ate too much time and energy. Rain check, Cassian thinks, trying to forget this shelter had been a friend's house once.

Enough ghosts were floating around them tonight without him adding his, so everyone acts like nothing is out of the ordinary, despite the obvious tension. To make matter worse there was no bedroom at all to share so they just lay down in sleeping bags. If with Kes alone it could have been reminiscent of their former stints, with Jyn present it's uncomfortable and he's sure the dust around is only partly to blame if he has a hard time swallowing after saying goodnight.

It's just a stop, Cassian reminds himself tiredly, staring at the ceiling with the sound of Kes breathing and Jyn wriggling near the door, always ready to flee at a moment's notice, apparently. Things will start to pick up in Fresnillo, Cassian thinks earnestly, turning on his side.

Once they meet Saba Madero, the Charolastras will cheer up, they always have a good time with their old buddy. Then they will figure out Jyn's mess, not to mention there's still Bernal to reach.

How Dameron could have thought their buddy time would be relaxing, again? It the last roadtrip he will grant him, ever, no matter how hard and long his bro pleads, Cassian swears fiercely. It's not good for his blood pressure!

Somewhere in his mind, a whisper insists dazzlingly that he was the one that reached out to Jyn, but he chooses to ignore it before drifting away.

[blossomrye4-blog]

My Coco movie review!

This review does contain major spoilers, but don’t worry; I’ve inserted a “Read More” link here. That way, those of you who haven’t seen the movie yet won’t have to be subjected to horrendous spoilers when you stumble upon this post. :) 

Oh, and feel free to comment your thoughts on the movie here! I would love to hear about them! :)

So, without further ado, here we go!!

- The opening scene really captivated me with its illustration of the Rivera family’s backstory using the papel picados. I just love how almost every traditional item used for Day of the Dead is symbolic to the story in a way! 

- MIGUEL IS SUCH A PRECIOUS BEAN AND DESERVES TO BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS

- Speaking of Miguel, my mom (who was watching the movie with me) told me that he looked like my cousin. Interestingly enough, one of the character art directors of the movie said that he heard multiple people say that Miguel looked like their own son or nephew, and that’s pretty heartwarming! 

- At the flashback scene where Ernesto was performing on stage moments before his death, my mom audibly gasped when the church bell crushed him. I already knew how he died beforehand, so I just whispered to her, ‘Yeah..that happened.’ (which is exactly what I said to her when Lightning crashed in Cars 3)

- DANTE IS A PRECIOUS DOGGO AND ALSO DESERVES TO BE PROTECTED

- Throughout the scene where Miguel is playing the guitar while watching Ernesto’s tape, I couldn’t help but gush over the animation of the fingers plucking the guitar strings. As this was one of the most difficult things in the movie to animate, I was extremely impressed by the details! 

- Although I was spoiled on Ernesto being the antagonist before watching the movie (but wasn’t spoiled on what exactly made him the antagonist), I couldn’t resist swaying forth and away to the song he was singing on the tape, especially since I absolutely love solo acoustic guitar music! 

- The first scene that made my heart split in two was when Elena (Miguel’s grandmother) destroyed Miguel’s guitar right in front of him. If I were in Miguel’s place and I watched someone destroy something I cherished, I would have reacted the way he did too. 

- The marigold bridge scene..HOLY FREAKING HECK, did it astound me! All of those colorful city lights (14 MILLION of them) in the Land of the Dead dazzled me in a way nothing has before! Just the amount of visual work that goes into these Pixar movies is downright incredible. 

- Hector is one of my favorite characters in the movie, because I grew to love him the further the movie went on to his backstory, and all that he went through because of Ernesto was just outright awful. :’(

- The scene where Hector plays a song for his friend (I forgot his name) while he was suffering the “Final Death” nearly brought me to tears. When I saw clips of this scene on one of the international trailers, I thought that his dying friend was Julio (Miguel’s great-grandfather) and I was somewhat relieved to find out that it wasn’t, but that scene was depressing nonetheless. 

- Skipping a lot further to the major points of the story, the way Ernesto was casted as the villian shocked me. The reveal of Ernesto causing Hector’s death by poisoning his drink and making himself famous using Hector’s songs made my mouth gap open out of pure disgust. Not to mention, I hated Ernesto more when he ordered his guards to throw poor Miguel and Hector in that underground cave, as if he had no problem sending his former best friend and one of his loyal fans, a child, to possible death. 

- Okay, now to one of the most tearjerking parts of the movie…Seeing Miguel so guilt-ridden over his previous outbursts with both his family and Hector was heartbreaking enough. But, Hector comforting Miguel as he was crying, telling him he was sorry made me lost it. By the time it got to the flashback of Hector singing ‘Remember Me’ to baby Coco, I was crying so much that I could barely see the screen. Nobody, literally nobody, was in the theater room except for me and my mom, so I had the privelege of being as dramatic and emotional as I wanted. 

- I was on the edge of my seat the entire climax, cheering all of the characters on to making Ernesto pay. Then, when the entire audience caught a glimpse of Ernesto’s ture nature and Pepita came into the picture to punish his sorry behind, I was like, ‘YESS, GET WRECKED, SON’. Then, the bell to the clock tower crushes him, and I was like, ‘Sweet old déjà vu, am I right?’.

- My triumph didn’t last long though. When Hector was on the verge of his “Final Death”, I legit thought he was going to die and I about bawled my eyes out. As you can imagine, Hector surviving his “Final Death” later on was a huge sigh of relief for me.

- Now, I don’t know which scene I cried over the most, the underground cave scene or the scene with Miguel restoring Coco’s memory of Hector. I couldn’t stand the sight of Miguel desperately getting Coco to remember Hector to seemingly no avail. Then, the happy tears came as Coco began singing ‘Remember Me’ with Miguel, That one scene was so beautiful in so many ways, I can’t find the words to describe it. 

- I giggled when I saw the sign ‘Forget You’ on Ernesto’s altar. The content on that sign had to be PG for obvious reasons, which was probably why I found it funny.