#translation: pearls are the tears of the ocean

[wuxia-hero]

珍珠是海洋的眼泪

pearl details // The Double

[sillyteecup]

That Dam attitude

Jey Uso × black!reader

Warnings:

18+

Strong language

Suggestive content

Violence, I guess? (don't thump your partners with ores)

Translation: Thixo=God

~A.N: This is me, entering the Bloodline community with a little love for Jey (I need Triple H to stop playing with him and give him a title opportunity) while working on that little Roman AU. Hope you like it. Enjoy. ❤️

30 minutes. That's how long Josh had been sitting on the other side of their shared kayak pouting like a 5 year old. Arms folded, lips pressed, eyebrows furrowed-the whole package. All because he much rather would've stayed back at their booked villa fucking instead of actually adding some adventure to their vacation.

And Siya, was frankly tired of it. "Not you still sitting over there pouting and shit," she commented with an annoyed look on her face.

Looking equally vexed, he replied, "Not you got us in the middle of the fucking ocean at 8 am on vacation," to which Siya rolled her eyes.

"First of all, dumbass it's a dam. Second of all, I did not come all the way out here to fuck, sleep, eat and repeat, I came out here to have fun and relax," she said. The fact that they were in Cape Town where there was so much to see and do (for Josh anyway since Siya had been there plenty of times as a child) and all he wanted to do was move like a damn Neanderthal amazed her. Fucking men.

"Oh, and praytell Siya, which part of any of this is fun or relaxing?" he asked incredulously, gesturing at the kayak. "And I want you to think very carefully about your answer because if you tell me some bullshit about connecting with nature, I will flip this bitch over and we gon' swim back to the dock," he warned.

At this, Siya's eyes narrowed. There was no way this man was serious. "So you, Joshua Fatu, mean to tell me that you would trade in all of this natural beauty and peace for sex? Is that what you're saying to me right now?" They were on a kayak on the Waterfront dam with a perfect view of the Table mountain and the overall serene vibe of one of the most beautiful cities in Africa. And this man wanted to trade that in for some pussy? Bomb pussy, that is but semantics.

He smirked. "Ey ma, let's just say I'd prefer to be knee-deep different type of natural beauty, know what I'm sayin'?" he said, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Usually she'd find this funny and fold like a pretzel, but this time around her pussy was sore from all the work he'd been putting in since they landed 2 days prior, she was already running out of thongs since he kept tearing them off her (with the promise to buy her ne ones of course) and frankly, she was starting to miss being able to walk without holding onto something for support. As a matter of fact, part of her had actually considered having him admitted into a rehab because his addiction to her cooch was on its way to paralyzing her from the waist down.

"You need help. Professional help," she snarked, pointing her acrylic decorated nail at him, making him chuckle.

"Girl you better stop acting like you don't like creaming on this shit," he laughed, right as an older white couple rowed by. They looked aghast, as though they'd heard his comment, which mortified Siya.

"Joshua!" she scolded before apologizing profusely to the other couple, who continued clutching their pearls while they did their best to get as far away as possible from the younger pair. She shot Josh a deadpan look, one he responded to with an innocent shrug.

"Look babygirl, ain't my fault white folk can't mind their business," he said defensively.

Siya lifted her ore and gently thumped him on the head with it, making him hiss. "No, but your big ass mouth yelling our business for the whole fucking continent to hear is your fault. No home training, I swear," she complained as she continued to row.

Still rubbing his head and trying to row with one hand, he frowned. "Oh but when you're the one hollering at the top of your lungs for me to fuck you like a little slut while doin' tricks on the dick, might I add, it's all good?" Josh retorted, to the horror of another older couple rowing by.

"Thixo," Siya heard the older woman gasp. She sent the lady an apologetic smile and let out a string of "sorries" in Xhosa, before turning to glare at Josh again.

"The fuck all these old people doing out here so early anyway?" he exclaimed, albeit, quietly. "This is a sign if you ask me."

Siya was seething. "Fuck, you," she hissed with a deadly glare to match.

"Tuh, I wish you would," Josh replied, earning another, this time less gentle, thump to the side of his head. He raised his eyebrows, challenging his girlfriend to do it again. "Girl, you better stop playing with me, 'else it won't be no discussion."

Another thump.

"Siya," he warned, mildly irritated.

Usually she would stop but this time she was annoyed by his prior antics. "Joshua," she mocked him, moving to deal another thumped, only for him to grab her ore.

His face was set in stone. He definitely wasn't playing anymore. "Stop it," he commanded.

Siya however, was not moved in the slightest. "Or what?" she challenged.

He leaned closer to her, careful not to tip the kayak over as no one was rowing at the moment. "Keep fucking around and you gon' find out real soon," he growled.

Siya kissed her teeth defiantly. "You ain't gon' do shit."

Josh chuckled darkly as he sat back up straight. This girl was clearly dead set on testing his patience and she was gonna reap what she sowed. She didn't know it yet, (or maybe she did) but as soon as they got back to that villa he was gonna put her back in her place and fix that damn attitude.

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

The Siren's Lament: Essential Stories

By Tanizaki Jun'ichirō, translated by Bryan Karetnyk

One day, while I was out fishing for pearls, quite by chance I happened to catch something far more precious and more beautiful. Man, of course, cannot love a pearl; but no man who sets eyes on a mermaid can help falling in love with her. The pearl offers only an icy brilliance, but beneath her bewitching allure, the mermaid harbours hot tears, a warm heart, and a mysterious wisdom. (The Siren’s Lament)

When you have nothing left to fear in the world, everything becomes possible. (Killing O-Tsuya)

I wish to love you as a man should love his wife. But until now I have served you as a slave does his master and revered you as a man does a goddess. I have sacrificed my country and my people, my fortune and my life to you: such have I toiled to satisfy your pleasures. (The Qilin)

Why, since ancient times, no man loved by a mermaid has been able to spare himself, for, before he knows it, he will fall into the trap set by her uncanny charms and, after being depleted body and soul, he will disappear like a ghost from our world without anyone knowing whither he has vanished. (The Siren’s Lament)

The Duke’s heart, in which until that day serenity had reigned, was suddenly and cruelly cleft with division. (The Qilin)

And yet, although Shidao’s fortune may have been inexhaustible, his life had its limits, and he could not expect to retain his youthful good looks for ever. Every now and then, this thought would give him a sudden yearning for pleasure, and the notion that he could no longer languish idly would assail him. (The Siren’s Lament)

No man on earth merits greater pity than he who has no will of his own. (The Qilin)

I had always believed that the happiest fate upon this earth was to be born in human form. But if in the depths of the oceans there is a mysterious world where creatures as exquisite as this reside, then I would rather be lowered to the rank of sirens than remain a man. (The Siren’s Lament)

[lomappreciationblog]

I mostly talk about the art when it comes to my love for Legend of Mana, but definitely a huge part of my love for the game comes from it's music, all stellar tracks from the hands of Yoko Shimomura!

The HD version also provides rearrangements, and at first I stuck to the originals when I played the HD version, but some of the tracks have grown on me, the boss themes especially have that extra oomph! And the HD version also lets you freely listen to all the music in game, though a completely new player might get spoiled by some of the soundtrack names...

I did notice some of the soundtracks have slightly different names from the list I saw before, but I'm guessing these are the official names for these music pieces in English now.

Here's the differences I've noticed - this is pretty long, I'll put it under the cut:

I'm not totally sure if these older titles I have seen are fan translations or if they were used in official capacity before, so that's my disclaimer.

"There's a Place in My Heart" is "A Soulful Place" (bgm for Home)

"Path of Journeymen" is "Traveler's Road" (bgm for a couple of dungeons, but most notably Luon Highway)

"Cliffside Town Gato" is simply "Gato Grottoes"

"Beautiful Colored World" is "Picturesque Landscape" (my most favorite dungeon bgm, which plays in Mekiv Cavern, Jungle and Tower of Leires. I've also seen this bgm titled just "Jungle")

"Marginal Beast" is "Beast of the Wildlands" (a bgm for a boss fight, can't remember any specific ones at the moment).

"Moonlight Roa" is "Lumina, City of Moonlight"

"A Dream of Distant Days" is "Dreaming of Yesteryear - The Siren's Song" (bgm for when Monique or Elle are singing - I've also seen the original subtitled Seilehn's song, which is probably just translation blip from Japanese, but I admit Seilehn is kinda pretty sounding)

"Across the Ocean" is "To the Sea" (bgm for Madora Beach and S.S. Buccaneer)

"Calmer Generations" is "Everlasting Calm" (bgm for the desert and Mindas Ruins. I do wonder why this track is titled with calmness as a theme, since the actual music itself sounds pretty frantic to me?)

"The Wind Sings of a Journey" is "Singing Wind, Journey's Path" (bgm for Lake Kilma and Junkyard, and I've also seen this titled simply "Junkyard")

The bgm for Fieg Snowfields and Norn Peaks is titled "Evanescent Memories", I think this was simply titled "Fieg Snowfields".

Now for the soundtracks specific to the 3 major arcs!

For the Star-Crossed Lovers Arc: "Where Truth Can be Found" is "Searching for the Truth" (this usually plays inside the room where Matilda is) "Two Feelings - Lucemia" is "Lucemia - Conflicting Motives" (bgm for Lucemia obviously. I've also seen this titled something like "The Excitement in Two of Us") "Distant Truth" is "Searching Beyond the Truth" (bgm for the ending scene. I do appreciate that with the name change, the first and last tracks are thematically linked, with the last one going beyond the truth - like Matilda and Irwin always wanted deep down) In this set, the boss bgm title "Irwin on Reflection" didn't change.

For the Dragon Arc: "Overlapping Destinies" is "Destinies Intertwined" "Bondage Bestowed" is "The Bond Bestowed" "Fiery Castle" is "The Flames" (hm, this time the official track is named after the location) "Scarlet Dragon Emperor" is "The Crimson Dragon" (boss fight bgm against Drakonis) "Led by Destiny" is "The Far Side of Fate" (ending bgm for this arc. This new official title is actually very fitting!)

For the Jumi Arc: "Blue Gloom" is "Melancholy in Blue" (this song IS most closely linked to the Jumi characters and plays specifically for Florina's dream quest, but I think this might also play in Cage of Dreams...? I might be wrong though.) "Sparkling City Destroyed - Bejeweled City Etansel" is "Bejeweled City in Ruins" (pretty similar wording for this one, though I appreciate the older title includes the real name of Bejeweled City - Pearl tells you it was called Etansel "in the old tongue" if you took her in Teardrop Crystal) "Treasured Love" is "Avarice of Fools" (bgm for the boss fight against Lord of Jewels 1000. Hmm, this is a drastic change, I kinda prefer the older title, it fits Sandra and Lord of Jewels' character better because they did both genuinely care for the Jumi, even if it was ultimately a twisted love.) "Of Glittering Tears..." is "The Color of Tears" (ending theme for the Jumi Arc. I kinda prefer the older one.)

Now for the music specific to the Mana Tree:

"Memories of Approaching the Distant Mana Tree - Theme of Mana" is "Thoughts of the Mana Tree, Far Away - Theme of Mana" "Holy Palace of Mana" is "The Sanctuary of Mana" (Sanctuary is the more accurate term since I think the Mana Tree is consistently referred to as a sanctuary inside.) "The Gloaming - Mana Goddess" is "Desolate Times" (boss bgm against the Mana Goddess! I love the older title - gloam means twilight, gloom or shade, and during the fight, one of the mechanics is the moon reflecting in the floor of the battle stage slowly being eclipsed, and once it goes fully dark the Mana Goddess unleashes a powerful attack, so it's very appropriate. Desolate Times just doesn't have the same ring to it. Though, I have to admit, the new rearrangement is very powerful sounding. I do love how eerie and despariring sounding this music is, it's a very haunting song, fitting for the side of the Goddess who wrapped herself in darkness.)

[layla4567]

A lullaby, a lotus flower and a cardinal

Summary: After spending days in Talokan you learned to live there

Warning: This is my first time doing this so sorry if you don't like it (also my first time on Tumblr lol). Everything written in Maya was taken from internet translators so I'm sorry if it's not accurate, I'm just doing this for fun, don't expect me to continue writing this type of story since I'm not a writer and once again sorry for my English since it's not my first language

It had already been a few days since Namor brought you to Talokan. At first everything was crying and pain, he had brought you by force just because by chance you had found out about his civilization and you had seen his soldiers in action. Namor or K'u'uk'ul Kaan as his people called him, was afraid that you are going to tell the world that there is a nation with blue beings and that they possess enormous amounts of vibranium, so he did not think twice and with a look that could cut steel he dove with you grabbing your waist tightly into the ocean with the speed of a bullet

You still remember when you first entered that cavern under the water that was illuminated by some cenotes the color of the sky that clung to the ceiling, everything had an ethereal and magical vibe but at that moment you were too terrified to realize that

You had woken up in a white hammock confused and scared when a beautiful woman with blue skin and an orange dress entered the cave and handed you a beautiful white dress adorned with pieces of mother-of-pearl and jade neatly folded. He bowed to you and left. You put on the dress hastily, it was cottony soft and ankle-length and crossed in the front to tie at the neck. When you finished admiring the dressmaking you were wearing, the woman returned to indicate with a wave of her hand that you should follow her.

When you got out, you realized that the cenotes were even brighter than you could see before, it was as if thousands of fireflies had agreed to shine much brighter than yesterday that day, no, it was even prettier than that. The girl took you to the king, he was inside a kind of hut made of rock like everything else there. The first thing that caught your eye was a large mural of a golden feathered serpent squirming with its mouth open as if it were about to attack you, despite that you found it quite beautiful. Namor, noticing your presence, looked up from the parchment he was writing and left the white feather on the side of the table. He approached me and asked me to take a seat. Despite the terror that you experienced before the first time you saw him, this time he looked quite peaceful and spoke with a great calm that I didn't know if I should relax you or worry more, he talked to you about his town and how the Spanish colonizers attacked them and They forced them to flee their home. You paid attention to each of his words, he had a warm voice like a storyteller, but when he got to the part where you had to stay in Talokan and not come back to the surface your mind went blank and a sweat Cold ran through your body. You begged him with tears in your eyes to let you go if you promised not to tell anyone but he stuck to his decision and left you alone so he could process the information.

Now in the present you had gotten quite used to underwater life, every day the Talokanine women brought you different dresses, some white and others with more vivid colors such as green, blue or yellow but those were only for special occasions such as ceremonies or anniversaries King. Talokan was truly a dream place, each corner (which you were able to explore thanks to special diving suits) was more beautiful than the last. You learned a lot during your stay but you still didn't know how to speak Maya, which frustrated you because you had to communicate through gestures and signs to be able to make yourself understood. But the one who helped you the most was Namor, he was in charge of translating everything for you every time he was around, their relationship was prospering and there was no longer that mutual hatred that there once was. Just now he was outside your cave talking to some Talokanine children and you had your shoulder leaning against the cave wall with your arms crossed looking amused at Namor and the children

You had no idea what he was telling those children but it seemed like a story or something. The most fascinating thing is that despite speaking Mayan he gestured each of his words with such love and passion that you could almost guess what he was saying. He would point to the sky and then the earth, sometimes raising his voice a little and other times turning it into a soft whisper almost a sigh as if he wanted to tuck a baby in. You really understood the affection that Namor felt for his people, he was so kind to the adults and so loving and patient with the children.

"Le betike', le ken despunta le alba, le chan ch'íich'o' cardenal ku posa yóok'ol le ki'ichpam lool loto ka ma' a k'aay ki'ichkelem melodías yaakunaj" (Therefore, when dawn breaks, the little cardinal bird perches on the beautiful lotus flower and does not stop singing beautiful love melodies.)

The children clapped happily cheering and repeating a phrase over and over again that you couldn't understand but you assumed they wanted me to tell them another story. you looked at them tenderly

"Bejla'e' ma' in mejen paalalo'ob, ba'ale' ti' leti'ob prometo u uláak' dia wa. Bejla'e' ka'a xi'iko'ob yéetel u na'tsil ku" (Not now my little children, but I promise you that another day yes. Now go to your moms)

The children nodded happily and walked away as Namor approached you with a smile on his face.

"Have you been standing there for a long time, princess?"

He always called you princess even though you weren't one.

"Kind of-you laughed-Unfortunately I missed the beginning of the story. May I know what you were telling them?"

"It is a Mayan legend called "The lotus flower" it is very popular among the young people of Talokan, if you want I can summarize it for you while we take a walk. Is that okay with you?"

"I'd love to"

Namor led you to a path that bordered the rock houses, it was wide and on the sides grew white and pink flowers with a crimson stem inside.

"They say that a long, long time ago, in the Mayab jungle, there was a very beautiful kingdom, with a prince named Chacdziedzib. Its name meant "cardinal bird". The young man was deeply in love with the daughter of the guardian of the sacred Cenote, a beautiful young woman named Nicté-Há, which meant "Lotus Flower". Others did not look favorably on this union between a nobleman and a woman of such a condition... Even the great Sacred Cenote decided that the prince should marry the daughter of some king, not the humble Nicté-Há. And to avoid this union, he summoned the great nobles of the place. Together they decide that the girl must die to end that "absurd" love"- His voice was so calm and mesmerizing just like when you heard him talk to the Talokanine children.

"But one of the prince's servants had heard everything, and he went to tell Chacdziedzib, who decided to send the best of his warriors in search of the young woman. His intention was to take her to the palace and immediately marry her. But the warrior was killed and never reached the young woman's house. Again the prince's servant found out about that misfortune and reported it to his master, who decided to go for his beloved himself. When he arrived at his home, he found her next to the Sacred Cenote, and when he hugged her, an arrow that came from the darkness stuck in his chest, causing his death immediately"

You held your breath

"The young woman fell into the water of the Cenote and the prince, dead in pain, dropped heartbroken to the same place where his beloved was, leaving a pool of blood as a wake. But the gods, who had seen everything, sent the Lord of the waters and the Lord of the birds to help them. The Lord of the waters reached the depths and found the one of Nicté-Há. He transformed it into a beautiful lotus flower. And the Lord of the birds found the body of the prince, and transformed Chacdziedzib into a cardinal bird. Therefore, when dawn breaks, the little cardinal bird perches on the beautiful lotus flower and does not stop singing beautiful love melodies"- Namor finished while without realizing it we had reached the entrance of his cave

"It is an exciting but beautiful story at the same time, luckily it has a happy ending"- you said smiling

"It is a legend that teaches us that love is the most powerful thing that exists on earth, because it is incapable of breaking"- he said and it seemed to you that his eyes shone in a special way at that moment

They stayed like that in silence for a few moments until Namor asked

"Do you want to know how to say story in Mayan?"

you nodded your head eagerly

"jajal t'aana'"- he said slow so you could understand

You tried to repeat it but you failed miserably while Namor laughed in amusement, in that instant you had discovered the sweetest sound. His laugh

"Not like that, look at my lips"- He pointed to his mouth while repeating the sentence slowly.

you approached him and while you watched his mouth attentively you repeated the phrase

"Much better!- he said happy- But you have to improve your pronunciation"

and then he delicately placed his hand on your cheeks in a soft and delicate grip. You looked at him surprised

"Try putting your lips like this"- he squeezed your cheeks a bit making you look like a fish and that tickled you

You quickly pulled his hand away bursting out laughing as he just looked at you smiling

"Stop it! You're just trying to make fun of me"

"It could be"- he said laughing too since your laugh was contagious

and again there was that silence between you, but it was not an uncomfortable silence at all, it was rather pleasant until he broke it again saying

"I think it's a little late, you should go back to your cave, come I'll accompany you there"

and we went retracing our path looking at each other from the corner of our eyes until we reached my house

It was already night but you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned on your stone bed but you couldn't get back to the dream world, and it wasn't exactly the bed's fault, in fact it was quite comfortable because it was covered in soft and comfortable fabrics that made it seem like you were sleeping on a cloud. But something was keeping you awake that night and you didn't know what it was so you decided to get out of your cave and take a little walk. You walked again along that path that Namor had shown you that same afternoon. The plants that adorned the path were so exotic that you were sure you had not seen them before on the surface, you accidentally arrived at Namor's house and noticed that it was not totally dark

His house was bigger than yours and very spacious, you could notice that he was sitting on a chair with a bird feather in his right hand while his other hand was resting on his cheeks. Seeing that he was not sleeping, you decided to get closer carefully.

"Excuse me Namor, may I come in?"

he jumped a bit because he didn't expect to see me up late at night

"Princess what are you doing awake? you must go back to bed"

"I'm sorry I know but I can't fall asleep"

he invited you to sit on his bed while he finished writing

"Well to be fair I should be sleeping too but I needed to finish this"

"What are you writing exactly?"

"My memories, it's tedious but it's something every king should do"

Namor rolled up the scroll and sat next to me.

"Now tell me why you couldn't sleep"

"I don't know, sometimes thoughts hit my head and don't let me sleep"

"What kind of thoughts?"- he said thoughtfully

"Well more than thoughts, they are memories, such as afternoons walking on the beach with my friends or when my dad cooked my favorite food."- you said with a blank look to the front and then turn your head and look at Namor

"I miss my loved ones Namor"- and you felt how your voice was faltering

Namor placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry things ended this way"- he sighed

you returned to fix your gaze at some point in front of you for a few moments until a shy smile appeared on your lips

"You know? I remember my mother used to sing me a nice lullaby when I couldn't sleep, maybe I could sing it to you if you want and maybe that way I can sleep. It would be a way of thanking you for giving me a bit of your world in that legend you told me about. Now let me give you something from my world"

"It would be a great pleasure to listen to you"

You smiled and began to sing while Namor made himself more comfortable so that he could listen to you carefully.

'Fool who does not understand The history tells what a gypsy female He conjured the moon until dawn crying asked When the day comes marry a calé

"You will have your man, brown skin" From the sky spoke the full moon "But in exchange I want the son first that you beget him That who his son immolates to not be alone Little would I love him"

moon you want to be a mother And you can't find want that makes you a woman tell me, silver moon What do you intend to do with a skin child? Child of the moon

From father Cinnamon a child was born White as a stoat's back With gray eyes instead of olive albino moon child "Damn his image, this son belongs to a payo And I didn't fall for it"

moon you want to be a mother And you can't find wanting to make you a woman tell me, silver moon What do you intend to do with a skin child? Child of the moon

Gypsy believing himself dishonored He went to his wife, knife in hand "Whose son is it? You have deceived me" And he wounded her to death Then he went to the mountain with the child in his arms And there he abandoned him

moon you want to be a mother And you can't find wanting to make you a woman tell me, silver moon What do you intend to do with a skin child? Child of the moon

And the nights that there is a full moon It will be because the child is in a good mood And if the child cries The moon will wane to make a cradle And if the child cries The moon will wane to make a cradle'

Your voice was angelic and it felt like a caress to the soul. Delighted Namor fell asleep and you also lay down tired next to him

A few hours later, when dawn was about to arrive, Namor woke up and seeing you asleep next to him, he could not help but smile and delicately, as if you were a fragile glass cup that could break at any moment, he lifted you up and carried you in his arms to your cave. He deposited you in your bed and left you a tender kiss on your forehead. When it was completely daylight you woke up surprised to be in your room and not in Namor's, wondering what happened but remembering the beautiful moment you lived the day before with a smile from ear to ear.

[fairydrowning]

"Tears that are pearls, in ocean moonlight."

– Li Shang-Yin, Translation by John A. Turner, from "A Golden Treasury of Chinese Poetry: 121 Classical Poems"

[bellarkeselection]

Flight Rescue

Rafe's girlfriend's airplane failed and everyone on board gets captured by Japanese. So he and Danny hop on a plane to rescue her.

Yanking on the controls of my plane I tried to make the crash leas painful. The water gets closer and the next thing I now is my body goes under and I black out. My team and I were sent to spy on the Japanese after they bombed Pearl Harbor. But they discovered us and shot the plane down into the ocean. Hands pulled me out of the water as I choke out sea water seeing my hands are bond behind my back and I'm surrounded by Japanese. "Tell us where your ship is located or die." A translator spoke to me as my eyes watch someone attaching an anker to my ropes. Shit Rafe I need you.

Rafe McCawley and I met at a club and my friend Evelyn introduced me to him saying he couldn't keep his eyes off me. Apparently I couldn't resist him either because I agreed to go out with him when he saw me enter the base. Getting out of a plane and he nearly fainted at seeing a girl behind the controls of a plane. Most girls became nurses but I was friends with a flight trainer. Japanese men throw me on the ground pressing my bleeding face onto the metal I winced. "Last chance girl or you die." The Japanese leader threatened up at me. "You'll never get anything from me. I am an American!" I bare my teeth before I'm forced to my feet again.

I close my eyes picturing the love of my life one final time, knowing the rest of my crew have already been dropped into these waters. "Rafe, stop it!" I giggled loudly as he tickles my sides making me squirm on his bed. He smiled down at me until I rolled him on his back kissing him. His hands tangled themselves in my hair kissing me back. "Y/n, if somehow you are in danger I'll come and rescue you, like a hero or a prince Charming whatever you wanna call it." He voices breaking the kiss as I lay my hands on his chest. "Is that a promise, Rafe." He rests a hand to my cheek stealing another kiss. "It's as much of a promise as when I said I loved you."

Gunfire makes me shoot my eyes open and drop to the ground with all the Japanese soldiers who try taking cover or get to their weapons. Shooting my head up I catch sight of US planes sourcing through the skies. Struggling to my feet I take cover from gunfire until one of our planes lands on their ship. Someone climbed out of the plane and I gasped seeing it was my boyfriend, Rafe's here. "Ra - Rafe - is it you?" I stuttered out my hands still bond behind my back with tears slipping out. He rushes to me cutting the ropes with a knife so I can throw my arms around his neck crying. "I thought I'd never see you again. Rafe I - I love you..." He hugs me back tightly breathing in my hair crying too. "I told you'd I'd rescue you, you're my girl...the love of my life." He helps me back onto his plane to hear Danny voice through the radio. "Alright lovebirds let's get you home."

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[o-avosetta]

The Lost Wardens music

I do not write songfics, nor do I purposely assemble "soundtracks" for my fics. But when I write, there is this weird whirlpool of serendipity, coincidence, and/or magic involving the music I listen to. Sometimes there are themes I'm working on in the story that pop up in a new song that gets released that week. Sometimes I hear a song, and I think, What this song is making me feel about love/loss/potential/my characters making out/etc. is what I want to feel in the story. This is the collection of what that whirlpool has pulled in.

Joanna Newsom doesn't like Spotify, so the vocal tracks are in a YouTube playlist. The mostly instrumental albums are linked separately. Delete Tumblr's pesky href-dot-li from the URLs as necessary. After the jump: personal/author-y playlist notes for myself; not required reading.

🌊 The Osprey (main playlist; 17 songs)

🌊 Instrumental/atmospheric albums:

Windswept Adan - Ichiko Aoba

Invisible Island - Midori Hirano

Minor Planet - Midori Hirano

Broken Circle - scntfc

If The Lost Wardens had a score, it would sound like the above. Windswept Adan captures a lot of the joy that Alex finds in magic, while Midori Hirano's darker work makes me think of Jonathan and his secrets, or Alex waking up in the middle of the night after a troubling dream.

🌊 Fall of the High School Star Running Back - The Mountain Goats

This song appears twice on the playlist: first with the original, and towards the end with a cover by Loamlands. Alex does not share William's fate, thankfully, but I thought the fallen star athlete theme struck a chord given Alex's insecurity about his future.

🌊 Carry This Picture - Dashboard Confessional

Lovestruck youth, nautical motifs, mention of working-class dads.

🌊 Porcelain - Ichiko Aoba

Just a sample off Windswept Adan for the playlist. Video is full of ocean magic.

🌊 The World We Built - The Wild Reeds

At the end of Chapter 6, I mentioned that this song had sort of become the theme song of the fic, "from several characters' points of view, at different points in time." It's mostly the old wardens. Sometimes, the suitcase lines make me think of Jonathan. Sometimes, they make me think of Leslie, waiting.

🌊 Redwood Tree - Jamie Drake

Flower Dance vibes, lanky young Cathy in the woods vibes.

🌊 This Town - Trixie Mattel (feat. Shakey Graves)

I grew up in a town where half the kids in my school left for bigger cities and half ended up at Big-Company-without-whose-presence-the-town-economy-would-collapse. It's one of the reasons Stardew Valley's own themes speak to me in the first place, and it's definitely the reason this song ended up on this list after it was released.

🌊 Ozean - Annenmaykantereit

@flowerandthesongstress recommended me this song, and I loved it. After looking up a translation, I decided it was for Chapter 16 Jonathan. I tear up just listening to it sometimes.

🌊 I Think We're Alone Now - The Wild Reeds (Tiffany cover)

There's a parenthetical memory in Chapter 8 where Alex remembers jumping into the lake with Leslie while a party is going on at Sebastian's house. It's a scene that hasn't been written, only imagined; I imagine it's one of those early moments Alex realized he was falling for the new farmer.

But also, the themes of escape and secrecy ("Children, behave") fit with the feeling of relationship obstacles set by a previous generation.

🌊 Training Montage - The Mountain Goats

One of those neat coincidences: this song came out while I was working on the Zuzu City / training camp chapters, which were themselves meant to show time passing while Alex was away from Pelican Town.

🌊 Video Games - Trixie Mattel (Lana Del Rey cover)

Journey of the Prairie King vibes, lazy romantic vibes.

I also deleted a scene where Alex and Sebastian talked about video games (Sebastian building one, Alex having played very little). Might add it back if it ever fits.

🌊 Divers - Joanna Newsom

I'll hunt the pearl of death to the bottom of my life.

Very ocean, much deep. Men going off to / into the sea, women waiting on the shore.

You don't know my name, but I know yours.

🌊 Watermelon Sugar - Harry Styles

Look, just because I don't write smut doesn't mean my characters aren't horny.

🌊 Capelton Hill - Stars

If we treat this playlist as a soundtrack to the fic, then this song starts a sequence we'll call "too many options for end-credits songs". By itself, I thought Capelton Hill was a nice reflection on having a place where you can go back to the past, for a while.

🌊 Fall of the High School Star Running Back - Loamlands (Mountain Goats cover)

See above.

🌊 Good Intentions Paving Company - Joanna Newsom

A song about being on the road with someone you're afraid to admit you're falling in love with, and eventually going home.

🌊 Spectacular Views - Rilo Kiley

Screaming for happiness from some ocean cliffs.

🌊 Time, As a Symptom - Joanna Newsom

Joanna has a talent for songs that sound like incantations. I felt this one with the nature imagery and the themes of birth, death, and rebirth was a great way to close out this playlist for my little fic about magic.

[iamhereonlytobeanunstableshipper]

Your Universe (A Cherik One Shot)

Read on AO3

Summary:

Two years after the incident with Apocalypse, Charles hasn't seen Erik again. When his old friend's birthday comes, Charles finds himself looking at the calendar all day long. Would it be a good idea to wish him a Happy Birthday? Well, it will be just a moment, Charles thinks. A brief touch of his mind. Two words, as a sign of peace. And that's it.

But of course, nothing is that easy when we talk about love.

Notes:

I wrote this a long ago, and I know it's not perfect. But this fanfiction kinda grew up on me because it was the first Cherik one I ever wrote. So, I'm finally posting it. Hope you enjoy it!

Also, I'm not a native speaker. So my English is a mix of public school lessons, google translate, and Grammarly. Sorry and feel free to correct me if I wrote something wrong :)

The chestnut eyelashes tinkled like the flutter of a soft butterfly in the ample room, gently pushing away the dust that was approaching the oceanic irises. They stood out like sapphires in the dim light that the sleepy sunset allowed to pass through the windows.

The man was resting on his comfortable mattress, a pillow lifting his head slightly. His hands were placed in his lap, while his left thumb repeatedly stroked the knuckles of his right hand, a gesture he used to do when he thought about a difficult subject.

Meanwhile, his ruby lips were nibbled over and over again nervously by his pearly teeth, unconsciously.

Something had been haunting the telepath's head since, the night before, his watch had marked midnight.

He remembered it as if it were yesterday when, in one of their many whiskey and chess nights, a deep-eyed man confessed that his birthday was that exact day that now passed through the calendar.

It had been two years after he had last seen him, in the incident with Apocalypse. He had hoped that now that things ended with no fights involved, the magnetic man would one day go back to the mansion (to say hi, at least). But the weeks ran one after another, and Charles could only try to convince himself that he didn't miss Erik at all.

Fake it 'till you make it, they say.

But, oh. Sometimes faking it was harder than letting himself drown surrounded by those memories. Charles could still feel those piercing eyes watching him with an indecipherable gaze, sometimes so intense that Charles wondered who was the telepath there. His coffee scent, striking his pituitary, was so sweet and so sour. Always sweet and sour, of course. His smirk, showing his gleaming and sharp teeth. His messy kisses, exploring Charles' mouth during that night that had been carved into his memory like a mantra.

It was a blessing to remember all this with acute certitude but a curse to know that it would never happen again.

Loving a memory was the most addictive and delusional form of torture the telepath could ever experience.

Despite all the pain, the anger, the betrayal, it was impossible to hate that man. And the desire to see him again or simply touch his mind was unshakable. And, now that he knew Erik no longer carried that helmet, the desire was unbearable.

Erik's birthday was the perfect occasion to wander through his mind, even if it was just a simple touch.

Charles decided not to think about it anymore. It had been torturing him for hours, and that was enough. He knew right away that he would regret it, but the decision was made.

The mansion halls seemed to be sleeping, just like the students did. Charles could feel the tall walls judging him as he passed by.

Sooner than he had expected, he arrived at Cerebro. Charles reached there by inertia because he surely wasn't paying attention as he wheeled through the mansion. He was too busy thinking about how stupid was what he was about to do. Without paying too much attention to his common sense, he placed the helmet-like machine on his head. He hid his blue orbs behind his lids and focused on his telepathy.

Finding Erik among all the other minds was frighteningly simple. As if it was a reflex action.

As soon as Charles entered Erik's mind, a sense of nostalgia intoxicated every inch of his being.

He stopped for a few moments observing the beautiful work of art that made up Erik's mind.

He explored with his telepathy the brain connections of the opposite, feeling with amazement how each neuron connected with the rest, creating constellations of stardust around him. An infinite universe of dark nebulae elegantly intertwined with each other, creating lugubrious galaxies of thoughts and emotions.

Charles gazed in awe at the mental barriers built into Erik's mind, how impressive they were to be made by someone who wasn't a telepath. He remembered when he had taught the man about telepathy in one of their many conversations. Those barriers housed Erik's most significant memories, Charles noticed right away. Most were gray; they gave off inhuman suffering and loneliness, creating a gloomy atmosphere between all those galaxies. But there were some, only some, so beautiful and brilliant that they would beat the sun any other day.

Charles shuddered to see that in most of those beautiful memories, he was the protagonist. The telepath's ruby smile was kept in the German's mind like a precious treasure, like the brightest star in all that small yet infinite universe.

Between the painful and the brilliant memories, all those agitated galaxies that comprised the place were created. The telepath could feel the magnetism being born from all that nebulae in a stealthy but persistent way.

Erik's mind seemed like the Guernica painted with stardust. So full of war, beauty, disorder, sublimity.

Meanwhile, Erik was sitting on his bed, looking outside the window. He had lived in the mutant shelter for quite a while now.

It didn't take long for him to realize that something was wrong with his mind. He realized that a presence was in there, and it took just a brief second for one of his most precious memories to come to mind like déjà vu, instantly recognizing that person.

Recognizing when a telepath is inside your mind is not an easy task, but Charles had taught it to him years ago. Now, the telepath wondered if it had been a good idea to have taught that to Erik.

"Charles?"

That precious name touched Erik's lips in a hopeful sigh. The man wasn't quite sure if he had drunk too much whiskey and was beginning to imagine things.

"Happy birthday, Erik."

Said a voice pearled with memories within the magnetic's mind. His tone was calm and somewhat carefree as if that situation was the most normal thing in the world. But slight nuances of nostalgia, pain, and... love colored the letters of the man's name.

Charles was grateful that he didn't have to speak aloud, so that the opposite would not have to hear his voice breaking more and more with each syllable, making a clear portrait of his trembling heart.

Before leaving the mind of the other, the telepath stopped for a moment to feel how sadness and happiness were intermingled in each star of those nebulae, creating a battle that they both knew would win the distance from each other.

A selfish thought crossed Charles's mind, as a small part of him was glad that Erik still cared, if only a little.

Erik felt Charles's presence fade from his mind, leaving it with a cold feeling of loneliness. For a few seconds, he forgot that he was the great and impenetrable Magneto. He forgot about his promise of never to love anyone else. He forgot to forget about affection. For a few seconds, he was Erik again. That boy who jokingly kissed the hand of a young blue-eyed man while taking him out to dance to the sound of Can't help falling in love.

Magneto had dedicated half of his life to lock Erik in the depths of his mind. And with him, all the memories of those crimson lips he longed for.

But, with a simple touch, Charles managed to make Erik dominate every cell of his body, making that song resonate in his ears, accustomed to the deafening sound of bullets. What Charles had given him, Erik didn't know. But he guessed he really couldn't help falling in love with that man.

The two men would never talk about the tears that were created in their orbs. Or the small smiles that raised the corners of their lips. Neither the heavy knot that closed their stomachs or the devastating cold that harbored their minds. Not even the glass that they both served themselves, knowing that neither one nor a thousand could fill the void that the other had left in their lives.

[geekthefreakout]

In Which Castiel is Properly in Lebanon

Dean isn't sure what he's feeling at the moment. On the one hand, he's pissed- this pearl was supposed to get rid of Michael. Get rid of the pounding in his head, the danger in his bones. Let him rest. On the other hand- his dad is here again. In front of him, and with Mom and Sammy too. The tremble in John's voice when he'd asked "Mary?" after hearing her voice... Well, Dean has heard himself sound like that. In a dark street near a church, lit only by the neon lights of the cross on the church and Baby's headlights. Watching his parents come together, reuniting after so long... he can't deny that his heart feels full with the love between them. Sam feels the same way, he could tell, his big brown eyes damp and his mouth curling with a tremulous smile.

He hopes that John can find a way to fix Dean's head while he's here... and boy, won't that be a conversation to have. His stomach turns over as he watches John and Mary whisper presumably sweet words to each other. He can hear it now, John berating him for allowing Michael in in the first place. John talking about having to clean up Dean's messes-- and Dean supposes that was why the pearl had pulled John forward to this moment. Dad would yell and scold and send Dean away, he would take him to task and never let him forget what he'd done, but Dad would fix it. He'd fix it, and he'd be disappointed in Dean, but Michael would be gone and Mom and Dad would be together, and Sam would have both his parents for the first time in his life.

Of course, nothing is ever that simple.

The door to the bunker opens as Mary begins searching the kitchen for Winchester Surprise ingredients. John tears his eyes away from his wife at the sound, meeting Dean and Sam's eyes in turn as he reached for a gun.

Right. John wouldn't expect them to have anyone else in their lives. Sam and Dean had painted some broad strokes, with some input from Mary (the way John's eyes bulged when she described hunting had truly been something to see), but John had seemed more surprised at the idea of their extended hunter network than anything else. Their family, though Dean hadn't dared to call it that. Family was a holy word to John, something that meant Mom-Dean-Sam-Dad only.

"Dean? Sam? There have been temporal distortions radiating out from Lebanon, are you--" Cas stops halfway down the stairs, his eyes wide as he takes in John standing defensively between Sam and Dean. "Well. That explains some of it at least."

Dean is quick to get between Cas and his father. His heart is pounding in his throat suddenly. He can't bring himself to look either of them in the eye, and that doesn't make sense. It's not as though-- it's not as though he and Cas are together or anything. Or as though Cas knows how he feels. It's not like John will be able to just-- read his mind-- and know... but then, there were those nuns he had to burn, and he'd been convinced John didn't know then either and shit he's panicking he should say something he should--

"Who the hell is this?" John's voice is gruff, but not hostile, that's good. Dean forces himself to meet his father's eye.

"This is..."

"I am Castiel." Cas is suddenly much closer, having descended the stairs while Dean panicked. "You are John Winchester."

Dean doesn't even have to know that Cas is doing that thing where he tilts his head and squints and either looks like the cutest puppy or like he's going to cook you to death with his laser eyes, and he really cannot have a confrontation happen--

"Cas is our friend, Dad." Sammy, thank god for Sammy. "He's family."

Dean nods, and affirms: "He's family." He turns to Cas. "So, remember that pearl that was too good to be true?"

Cas sighs, and looks at Dean with fond exasperation.

"I remember telling you not to try it without me."

Dean shrugs half-heartedly. John clears his throat, his expression both stern and inquiring. That "report, soldier" look that had always prompted Dean to spill his guts without fail.

"We, uh, have more to explain." Dean slaps Cas on the shoulder. "Mom is cooking."

"Mary doesn't cook." Cas had not taken his eyes off of John, his stare intense. John was staring right back.

"This is the one thing she does. It's Winchester Surprise. You'll like it."

"You ain't human." John pronounces, and Dean winces, locking eyes with Sam. Sam clears his throat and approaches.

"He's an angel, dad. We told you."

"Didn't realize you were serious about keeping one around."

"I am not 'kept.'" Cas had his hackles up. Great.

"Alright, alright." Dean put his hands up. "Dad, we've got a lot more to tell you. But Cas is here because this is his home, same as it is ours. He's one of us." Dean forces his voice to firmness, goes for the same tone he used to use to defuse fights between Dad and Sammy. He gives Sam a look, and his brother sighs.

"Actually, Cas, can you help me translate this book? It has more information on the pearl and what's happening, and my eyes are gonna go cross if I read another word of Latin."

"I wouldn't allow that to happen." Cas says, but after one last intense look at Dean and John, he follows Sam. Dean lets his father follow him to the table and picks up where he left off.

"Right, so... Cas stuck around after we stopped the apocalypse. Things in heaven... well, it's messy, but the point is it's better for Cas to be on Earth with us. He's family, he... anyway, he's here. And I, uh, I told you how mom came back..."

"Because God's sister was feeling charitable." John's voice was flat, and Dean forces out a laugh.

"Well, when you put it like that... but that's what happened. You can't make that shit up."

"Well, I guess you can't." John allows, and his lips quirk up in a grin, which Dean returns. "So this pearl that brought me back... I'm not who you were expecting. I've heard about Sammy, and I've heard about your mother..." John shakes his head in disbelief. "What was the pearl actually supposed to be for, Dean? What's wrong with you?"

Dean winces, takes a breath.

"Okay, this is about to get even crazier." He watches John's eyebrows shoot up. "So, it turns out there are other universes. Like alternate timelines and stuff. And there can be... these rifts or tears that go to them. It takes a lot of power, but uh, one was opened by mistake. And the world it led to, it was one where we didn't exist, Sam and me. And the apocalypse happened. It was bad. Mom and our kid- our friend, Jack, they got stuck there for a while. And when we were saving them, we saved a whole bunch of hunters on that side too, let them in to our side." Dean paused to check that John was following. His father was working his jaw, which meant he was thinking, or angry. John nodded after a moment for Dean to keep going. "Anyway, the biggest bad over there was Michael the archangel. Their version. We thought we locked him out when we rescued everyone, but he and Lucifer broke through to our world. And Lucifer managed to really juice himself up, and then take Sammy and Jack. The only... Michael was hurt. He was too weak to take him on, and we just didn't have the firepower. So I thought... I asked him if he could do it, if he had his sword. His perfect vessel."

"You." John summed up. He was definitely glaring now. Dean looked down at his hands, picking at the loose skin at his thumb.

"Yeah. We had a deal, I thought. I was gonna be in control, and then he was gonna leave me. I thought maybe we could send him back to apocalypse world or something after. We-- me and Michael-- we killed Lucifer. But he didn't leave. He took me over and he did things... he's been organizing the monsters, setting up traps for hunters. Pumping them full of angel juice to make them less vulnerable to us-- we ran into a djinn that could full create things, man. Like, in real life. But Sam and Cas, they brought me back. I have Michael locked away, in here." Dean tapped his head. "And he's locked up tight, but I can't... I can't keep him locked away forever. He's pounding and pounding at my head, he won't let up, and so I can't let up. And I'm gonna break, Dad. I broke in hell and I'm gonna break this time, I know I am. I need help." Dean felt his voice crack and his eyes dampen, and he made himself look up at his father. "The pearl... I was supposed to be able to make a wish, and Michael would be gone. But you're here now. And I need you to help fix this, Dad. Please."

John's face is inscrutable. He doesn't reach out to touch Dean, to grasp his shoulder. Dean waits for him to speak like a man waiting for an axe to fall.

"It was a goddamn stupid thing to do, Dean. Let that thing inside you." John shakes his head. "Now your brother and mother are in danger as long as they're around you." Dean winces and John sighs. "So we're gonna have dinner-- I'm assuming you can make it through dinner-- and then you and me are gonna light out of here, and figure this out together. Let your mom and Sammy stay here, where Michael can't use them as leverage. Keep the angel away, we don't need any extra baggage. And we'll figure it out." John nods like he always did when he'd reached a decision. "I won't let you hurt them. Or anyone. I promise you, we will find a way to stop this Michael, Dean. And if not..."

Dean nodded shakily. "I have a plan. There's this box. To lock me away in, in case..."

John nods back at him, finally reaches out to pat his shoulder.

And Dean was relieved. John was gonna fix it. John would understand about the Malak box, if all else failed he would lock Dean away and let him sink to the bottom of the ocean, harmlessly alone. He wouldn't get distracted trying to save him, once it seemed impossible John would understand the sacrifice and...

"That box is not an option."

Dean's head shoots up. Cas is standing in the door, his hands fisted at his sides. Dean imagines that if he could see Cas' wings, they would be flared up at his sides.

"Cas--"

"I don't think that's any of your business." John said.

"It is my business. More so than it is yours." Cas was glaring fully at John right now. "Because you would have Dean away from his family."

"I am his family." John stood, angrily.

"You think you are. But a wise man said that family doesn't end in blood." Cas looks at Dean, piercing him with his gaze. "Nor does it start there."

"Cas." Dean's voice cracks. "Don't."

But John is already crossing the room, getting in Cas' face, fisting his hands in the trench coat, yelling about how Cas wasn't human and had no place in his family and Cas isn't budging an inch. He wouldn't. Dean could hear Sam running towards the room, could hear Mary shouting from the kitchen about what was wrong, but he couldn't breathe as he watched John deliver what would have been a devastating blow on to Cas' face, if Cas had been human.

But Castiel, as had been pointed out, is not human.

John shouts in pain and surprise instead as his hand breaks against Cas' cheek. Cas doesn't even turn his head like he did for Dean back in the beautiful room a full decade ago. John prepares another blow, but Cas effortlessly shoves him against the wall with one arm as Sam skids into view.

"This is what is going to happen." Cas says, his voice dripping with authority, and Dean distantly thinks that he would find that voice extremely interesting if he wasn't so busy trying to make himself breathe. "We are going to eat Mary's dish. You will enjoy the privilege of time with your wife and sons. And then we will crush that pearl and return you to 2003." Cas turns his head from John to face Dean. "I am sorry, Dean, but the temporal distortions will only grow. For now they are confined to Lebanon, but soon they will consume the world. Mary will disappear. People you've saved will die. You and Sam will lose your memories of this time and find yourselves on a different path, as you saw in town before. And I... Well, I don't know what will happen to me. But I do know I would rather die as I am, with you, than return to what I was before we met."

Dean swallows. "You sure?" He hears himself ask, as though from a long way away.

"Yeah, Dean. We've looked through everything." Sam affirms, then he puts a hand on Cas' arm. The two of them exchange a look, and Cas releases John. "I wish things could be different, Dad. But even if they were, you realize I couldn't just let you and Dean go off on your own? Neither would Mom."

"You're damn right about that." Mary was in the doorway now, observing. "You hit him, Cas?"

"He hit me. I chose not to allow it."

"Good for you." Mary says warmly. John looks at her in betrayal. "What? You're the one that lashed out." She takes John's broken hand in hers. "I know you're used to being the drill sargeant-- and I wish we had time to talk about that." Mary's voice is steely. "Because our sons should never have had to call you sir-- but this family stays together."

"I go, or you do?" John says at last, checking with Mary. Dean's chest is tight, and he barely registers Cas walking towards him. "You go back to being dead if I stay."

Mary's eyes are red and she nods, pressing close to John. John looks at Sam, who nods at him sadly. Then he turns his gaze back to Dean, and Dean nearly trembles, having the strength to stand still only because of Cas now standing at his side.

"Well," John rubs his broken hand. "That's no choice at all. Seems to me that all there is to do is... well." He wraps an arm around Mary. "I can't say I'm sorry for trying to think of ways to keep you safe. But if all we get is a little time, if all we get is dinner... let's have dinner. Winchester surprise. Let's just have this one night as a family."

Sam nods and gives a sad smile, and Mary hugs John before announcing that dinner would be served as soon as it finished cooling down. Cas puts a hand on Dean's shoulder, and Dean comes back to himself in a rush.

"I'll drink to that." He says.

As they all crowd into the kitchen, all conflict seemingly forgotten (never forgotten, pushed away, if you don't look at it it isn't there). John largely ignores Cas, but shares stories of Sam and Dean growing up that have nothing to do with hunting, things Dean had forgotten about, like the time Sammy learned how to escape his high chair and became almost impossible to hold down for meal time, or when Dean had put on a thanksgiving play using all of his and Sammy's toys when they'd had to miss the one at school. Mary talks about what they've gotten up to lately, how the music these days is nothing like it was. Cas mentions that Dean must agree, because the tape he gave him was all Zeppelin. Dean's heart freezes as his eyes meet his father's after that, but while there is a knowing look is John's eye, he shakes his head and moves on to the next tale-- this time about Dean refusing to let anyone else hold Sam when Sam was first born.

"'This is my baby,' he'd say. To everyone, even me. Even you." John looks at Mary, his eyes full of unfamiliar mirth. "Remember?"

"Mmhm. His Sammy. No one else's. You screamed the first time we tried to send you back to nursery school after Sammy came home from the hospital." Mary says to Dean. "Wanted him to come with you, or you weren't going."

Dean smiles.

At the end of the night, they still have to crush the pearl, send John back to 2003. It's one of the hardest things Dean has ever done. He hugs his father tight, pushing aside all the fear and the anger just to hold his dad again. Sam does too. They take a photo- John won't remember this as any more than a dream, but he wants his boys to have this time when they were a family. He even nods his thanks to Cas when he offers to take it. And then John is gone, and Mary is weeping quietly into Sam's shoulder. Sam gives Dean a look, and Dean knows they will be talking about the Malak box again. Cas sits up with Dean that night, and they say nothing at all.

"You know," Dean says eventually. "I think my dad liked you."

"Did he?" Cas sounds unimpressed. "I didn't like him."

"Cas."

"He would have found you entering the Malak box an acceptable sacrifice. Because of his own inadequacies as a father, you also find this acceptable. I cannot forgive that." Cas holds up his hand to forestall Dean's protest. "But I'm glad you got that dinner with him."

"Yeah. Me too."

END

[cupsofsuga]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐒 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ 💐} REQUEST - ❝ how do the boys act with their s/o during the pandemic? ❞

{ ☕️} NOTE - i am not in any way trying to romanticize or glorify this pandemic. this is strictly for entertainment purposes. right below, i provided a link that lists ways you can help with covid-19::

https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2020/03/21/how-you-can-help-during-coronavirus/?arc404=true

please stay home and stay safe!

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

through the fog of yearning for summer, jin has found you, the child of aphrodite in autumn’s oath

oh, the tender sound of flesh… it’s like thunder under earth’s surface

to love y/n is to love the nymphs that dream amongst the fragrance of weeping willows

to love y/n is to long for their sole attention, and much to jin’s benefit, this global pandemic may have given him the opportunity to hog all the stardust held within the deity of his lover

with classes canceled, you both can spend eternity gathering tulips and wildflowers in the safety of your home

jin can taste laughter against his lips and the august rain of your divine infatuation

he can inhale the sun in your hair and the midsummer fruits on your skin

finally, for what seems like infinity in quarantine, he can breathe

now, to keep this daydream within the forest at constant, he’ll rob any potential excuse of yours that involves not having your attention on him

of course, he would forbid you from seeing anyone outside the solace of your own residence

the faint idea of those heathens laying their ruthless hands upon your heavenly form and possibly imperiling you with this virus infuriates him to no end

even during the hours spent on online classes, jin will smother with resentment over the revelation that he’d be required to spend several hours without your love

boredom and envy, two poisons racing like serpents through the maze of his veins

and he can’t seem to sedate this burning jealousy, that is until the session ends and the grandfather clock sings it’s euphoric harmony

oh, and when your attention is finally on him

petals splatter, lambs sing, the sun kisses the moon and the fruit of the earth flourishes

heaven is on earth, and besides, you never needed those classes, anyways

with perfect grades, perfect class, perfect reputation, jin could give you whatever your heart could desire

and he’ll love you until the sun vanishes and the earth is reborn; until all stars fragment and our galaxy dissolves into dust

jin loves you and the blossom of july that follows

he loves you to death.

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

oh, how yoongi loves you...

to digest his own organs, to tend to the wounds of his garden

he’d trade in his life for the fleeting chance of bathing in your moonlight

like the crumpled-up paper left on your table with the number of a pretty waitress scribbled on, the scrape of peach fuzz against naked skin under ocherous streetlights

you, y/n l/n, a stranger in the alps holds the dawn-tinted fragments of this young boy’s soul

the resonance of your honeymoon-flavored voice, the liberation of the ocean’s pearls as they sleep in your touch, your superlunary reassurance as you soothe him of his concerns for the world’s condition

yoongi cannot comprehend how sour solitude blossomed into a sultry summer by the acceleration of a global pandemic

he owns the privilege to spend infinite days in quarantine, butterflies and white lace upon his heart as he wakes up to the sight of your face, yet again

he watches as stars and planets melt together as your galaxies collide, relishing in the feverish sensation of eternal divinity

and during this pandemic, yoongi’s tendencies flourish as his dependence, neediness and loyal compliance intensify

he’ll go out of his way and purchase all of the necessities you could ever crave, the revelation of his health at stake left unbothered

it is challenging to find entertainment throughout quarantine, but fortunately for you, your hero (missing his cape) uses his rent money to find you whatever it is you've deemed vital

you’ll go and welcome your lover after he returned to your residence from getting groceries and discover a variety of board games to play, a nintendo switch (with animal crossing, obviously), and an espresso machine that he bought with intentions on teaching you how to make drinks like he does (even though there will never be a day where he won't brew one for you)

despite fear painting every street in the world, yoongi touches aphrodite’s reminiscence as he skates beyond a rainbow’s arch

he has found sunlit honey in the mornings where he can cling onto your form like a lifeline and smother you with his coffee-stained kisses and overwhelming fascination

finally, days are heavenly with you by his side every. waking. second

the bullets have faded, the storms have abolished, the tears have shattered and all that’s left is your french perfume and cherry lips

oh, you should expect suffocating love during this quarantine season because you’ll never escape from yoongi

not now, not ever.

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

due to covid outbreak, hoseok feels his body tremble with fear beneath his covers as if the virus was a monster underneath his bed

behind the exquisite light of his sanity is winter, where terror sits like snow against naked trees

only then, you waltz into his tunnel of vision, your silver armor glistening under the amber light of his bedroom

finally, with you by his side, he can savor the taste of the sun as it peaks through the leaves of summer

y/n, the sweetest apparition, the aurora of jasmine, stardust in a mason jar

you are the bones of ecstasy and hoseok feels the horror racing through his veins melt into a daze of tulips and passion

and it took him days to recover from the lemon-flavored euphoria that dreams of you in a hallucinatory lucidity

but, even then, the heart of his infatuation still holds cunning ways of creeping up behind him

despite being locked inside, hoseok still relies on you to protect him

you’re his knight in shining armor, his life preserver in an empty sea

he needs you to wrap your wings around his form and shield him from the demons that lurk in the shadows of your home

god, does he need you

but, when the sun is high and both of you are trapped in the walls of your home, his soul ascends as if he had listened to his favorite part of a song for the very first time

your lover then insists on creating a fort, the light of purity heavy in his opalescent irises

that childlike innocence within him, you always adored it

you’ll both make a mess of your living room with couch cushions and chairs, certainly to receive a scolding from your parents

there are fairy lights strung upon quilts with its heavenly glow and tender pillows that are painted with last years midsummer night-dew

and with scarlet ribbons and a huff of contentment, your masterpiece is complete

now, you will lie in the fort that is shielded with a password, lover in your lap as he runs upon his little rants

a disney movie you can’t recall the name of is left abandoned to play on its own as hoseok works you through the timeline of the pixar theory, hope, and exuberance within his expression

he always admired conspiracy theories, but not the ones that are too frightening

you, aphrodite’s rose and summer’s sweet fruits, are there for hoseok to love and to embrace

and he’d swim all the oceans and waltz through the depths hellfire to prove to you just how enamored he truly is

that is until he longs for his childhood stuffed animal that he makes you go into the attic to get because he’s too afraid of the dark.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

namjoon will love you until the end of eternity

he’ll love you until the moon swims the seven seas, he’ll love you until fate eradicates into liberty, he’ll love you until white jasmines accelerate into poppies

he’ll love you until our solar system melts into prismatic ash

and this epiphany flourishes as the night sings with you nestled against his chest, your lover refusing to let you go even when the sun is high in the sky

with locks of hair rested upon the crevice of his neck and latin poetry he’s too tired to translate parting his lips, he has found ecstasy in the purple rain that enveloped him

he has found the hidden nymphs of his life nestled under leaves; he has found his light in a sea of dead stars

and namjoon can’t imagine a day where he wouldn’t bleed himself dry to protect the one thing that matters most to him

due to the spread of this virus, let’s just say that his paranoia has gotten the best of him

you’ve never seen so much fear within his eyes from just a simple cough

you’ll be forced to stay within the lavish bedroom of his as all possible necessities are delivered to your door

and any excuse for you to leave, he has another to dismiss it

you’re hungry? great, a full-course gourmet meal made by our personal chefs is on its way!

you’re thirsty? would you like water? tea? wine? we’ll have the housekeeper deliver it in a jiffy!

you’re bored? we have board games, puzzles, movies, video games, whatever your little heart desires!

you feel trapped? ok, fine… well, i guess we can go take a walk in the garden

and you felt such a rush of elation to take sight upon the lustrous tulips possessing a variety of colors and to inhale the fragrance of summer as it stains your consciousness

oh, to feel sunbeams heavy against your longing skin and to trace your fingers down the juts and crevices of your favorite flowers

this is euphoria tied with a silk bow

that is until you were aggressively yanked behind namjoon as he saw the gardener wasn’t 6 feet away from you

he spat out threats to the poor man just trying to water the poppies you infatuated yourself with

but hey, at least you got a taste of the sun though, right?

oh, well, the tiffany and louis in your expensive bedroom will suffice, anyways.

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

so… this is love

to caress the sugar-scented tulips on the riverside, to taste summer as worries melt like honey against your tongue

to lose yourself in the lustrous daze as camellia flowers fall like pink rain

so… this is love

and god, jimin has never felt so alive

like a dove at dawn, iridescent feathers, and misty eyes

you descended into his field of vision and robbed him of his heart right then and there

and now, as the sun glistens and the moon shimmers, day-by-day, he holds the privilege of calling himself yours

especially being locked within the walls of your home, infatuation seethes like dust in the attic above

it’s far too dangerous for you to leave, anyway

with disease, sorrow, and pain staining the air of the world, it’s only best is you stay indoors… only by his side, for every waking second

and you swear, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve awoken to the sight of your lover with his chin rested against his palm, hearts swimming in his eyes as he chirps, “good morning, bumblebee!”

but, you have to realize, he just can’t help it

there’s moondust in your lungs, sunbeams bathing within your veins, the rings of saturn enveloping your locks of hair, stars nestled beneath the crevice of your heart

there’s a universe inside of you, and luckily for jimin, it is all his

only his

as the morning is set into motion, your boyfriend has a variety of activities for you to indulge yourself with

days are spent reading you through all several journals he reserved just for you, pages filled with cheesy poems, songs, or your name written obsessively over and over and over and over again

he’ll giggle like a young schoolgirl at your reactions, drown you in butterfly kisses or gaze at you for hours as you read, oblivious to his creepy admiring stare

and god forbid you drink water and it goes down the wrong tube

you’ll cough once and he’ll begin to pamper you as if you were a sick orphan child

that’s who he is, though

dedicating his entire life to the sun itself; dedicating his existence to the child of aphrodite in full bloom

god… he has found love

and nothing is more euphoric than this

and you had absolutely no idea a worldwide pandemic could make this man the happiest boy on planet earth.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

you can’t recall how long it’s been since you were abducted

days have melted into candy, hours turn to honey, seconds are everlasting grace

you’ve been treated like royalty ever since pages of your face with a loud ‘MISSING’ on top had been scattered across town

your kidnapper lover will bake you cherry pies, boxy smile threaded on his face. he’ll draw a bath adorned with rose petals raw from the garden, eyes flickering with hopes and exuberance

taehyung will give you just about every pleasure a human could ask for, all in the name of seeing that candied smile that sedates his mind and turns his knees to jelly

he wouldn’t be shocked if he looked down and saw a puddle of his drool, to be honest

and because of the uproar of the virus, taehyung finds in his best power to simply not tell you

to protect you from your worries, to shield you from this world

he would rather die than risk losing his glimmering evening to the arms of the earth

this revelation strikes coldly as you sit beneath a willow tree, sugary pastries and treats varied around you as your lover sits with his canvas

to blend the opalescent tones of your face, then the loud devotion of your skin and the feverishly irradiated hues of your iris

oh, to sit here and paint his dear… it’s pure bliss!

days spent deprived of the burden of technology, heaven has reached the recesses of this horrid planet

after lunch beneath the sun, you and taehyung will take canoe rides throughout the lake just outside your little cottage on the hillside

and watching as you graze your fingertips upon the lake’s surface like you’re made of something magic and blessing the water with your enigmatic essence was practically holy to see

he’s been puzzled stupid in times like these

where the sun is high and heavy, golden embers kiss upon the land, his lover sat with a goddesses caress

it’s euphoric how you breathe and strip taehyung of every logical thought within his mind

yes, you are captive, but there is simply no denying this man's devotion to you

you shall not worry about the worldwide pandemic and should rather fall into a deep slumber within the faded-red canoe

when it’s only the two of you, a virus is but a speck of dust left upon the highest shelf

no matter what this world comes to, you are safe with taehyung

and nothing will take you away from him.

━━━ 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

jungkook thinks of you more often than he should

those fleeting moments where your dulcet laugher reflects and his eyes are practically glued to you; those moments where your “i love you”’s are unadulterated and his entire chest collapses

he’d do anything and everything to keep his light forever home

fortunately for him, this global pandemic may have gifted him that opportunity laced with a velvet bow

but this boy is paranoid, you see. so paranoid that the intensity of his concern comes out in an opalescent pandemonium

it’s as if saltwater swells in his lungs and kisses him with it’s strangling embrace; as if his worst sins have been placed on a silver platter, left for the world to laugh and gape at

but, through the haze of his purgatory, there’s you, joyous and alive

and it’s like a potion mixed with rosewater, vanilla and a dove’s feathers heavy on his tongue whenever he drinks in the sight of you

it’s like the essence of his infatuation dancing like a ballerina beyond the recesses of his mind; his sanity it’s ballroom

to spend days in quarantine bathing within his bewitchment is euphoric, but there are the days of terror that creep upon him

and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the time where you had complained to your lover about your headache and observed as the planets swimming in his irises abruptly fade to utter horror

he always over-exaggerated his worry, which you were used to, but this

you’ve never seen true fear like this

you were given a cold towel to place upon your forehead and kisses to soothe you of your distress

the worry he possessed only snowballed into something much more cynical and evil, though, as the prophecy of the virus taking you away from him shook him to his very core

you eventually fell into a deep slumber by dusk, most likely by the fault of the medicine

though, as the moon was high and the bedside clock read 2:38 AM in it’s fluorescent, neon green hues, you were awoken by the hushed sounds of weeping

blinking your mind back into reality, you found jungkook on the bedside, shoulders shaking violently from the sobs that shook his entire body

you watched as he incoherently wailed into the phone, only to finally decipher the person on the other line was a 911 operator

you then handled the situation safely and maturely, reassuring the poor operator that you were perfectly healthy and safe and thus proceeding to care for your puppy-dog of a boyfriend who worried over every breathe you took for the following several weeks

oh, what a time this quarantine will be

but, hey! you weren’t sick! so…yay!

[adamantiumdragonfly]

Lady Blood Part Four

Lady Blood: an Agent of War collection

Agent Enyo was a legend. A woman whose hands were always bloody and eyes filled with shadows. The reaper of the Western Front, she carried her reputation with her across the ocean to the alleys and speakeasies of Chicago. For who could fight a king of crime but a goddess herself?

But before she was a legend before she had a name, she was just Miriam Goldschmidt: a German girl far from home, trying to keep her tattered family from unraveling. The Great War brewing in Europe had pulled on the threads and challenged Miriam’s loyalty: to the land of her birth or the London streets she now walked? From London to Cairo then to the Western Front in the wreckage of Belgium, Miriam proves her allegiance, fulfilling the deep thirst for recognition but being a good soldier and a good agent required sacrifice.

As the war leaves its marks on Europe and it’s victims, Miriam has to make peace with the choice she made and the family she tore apart for that name and that seat in the pantheon.

She was a god but at what cost?

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Add yourself to the crew

 July 4th 1921, Chicago, Illinois.

men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war. 

|| All Quiet On The Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque ||

The swinging trumpets and thrumming drumbeat of the band rattled in Miriam’s already tight chest. Jazz had flooded the streets of America much like the prohibited liquor and it was pouring out of every crack and corner. It oozed with the flaunt and success of these mob bosses, who surrounded her. 

Miriam leaned against the counter, watching the amber liquid splash into crystal glasses, her throat longing for the warmth it would bring. She hadn’t had a drop since the day she stepped foot in America and she hadn’t thought she would thirst for the devil’s drink. Miriam shouldn’t, not when she was tasked with taking down this very establishment. 

She had been in Chicago for nearly a year and her partnership with Alaska and Lawson was damn near untouchable. They worked well together, breaking down speakeasies and stopping gang organized sales of liquor nightly. Their names were known in the streets but their faces were still a mystery, promising Miriam a safe guise tonight. 

Green Mill wasn’t green inside, but a deep red. The mahogany, the plush carpet, the lipstick of the arm candy. It was all blood red. The lights gave the room a golden glow, the shadows from the crowded tables and seats dancing on the walls like spectors from hell itself. The jazz, the clinking of glasses, the stench of forbidden drink, and the rattling of the beads on Miriam’s dress was intoxicating enough. She didn’t need a taste of whiskey. 

The British had kept Miriam running left and right, utilizing every skilled bone in her body. Between the blood and the killing, she had been put to use. Staying occupied, following orders, had kept her mind off of other things. She met every request with an affirmation. Yes, Miriam could interrogate. Yes, she could translate. Yes, she could send and code transmissions. Miriam would do anything to forget the price she had paid for the name that was branded into her skin. 

But the FBI didn’t use her ability to kill, her German, or her intimidation. They used her in ways she had never considered before. A doll, dressed up and placed on a shelf. This black dress was too fine for a battlefield but they hadn’t wanted her to fight. Miriam was only here to hold a spot, to keep a suspect in place until the clock chimed eleven o’clock and then the men would arrive. 

Miriam glanced over her shoulder, past the bar and through the throngs of people that had followed the scent of money and a good time. In the center of the club, high in his castle, the king of Chicago sat. The illegal whiskey gracing his lips as he looked down on his kingdom, the men and women all reaping the fruits of his trade with celebration and booze. Like the tower of a keep, Mr. Capone’s position was nearly impossible to reach without being seen. 

Miriam didn’t like being a doll. Sadie’s dolls were always too fragile, breaking and tearing. They had sat, patched and cracked, on a shelf in solemn vigil. Dolls didn’t do anything. Miriam didn’t want to sit on a shelf, or make another lap of another club to waste another hour while Lawson got the credit for a bust. 

This was her battlefield now and no amount of makeup or beading would hinder her. She glanced at the wall, the skullcup strung with crystals and pearls jingingly with the movement of her head. She still had time, the face of the clock only reading 10:45. Miriam had fifteen minutes. A doll couldn’t make it through the worshippers of the bootleg alcohol but Miriam had worked hard to be unseen among so many. Miriam could reach Capone, when no one else had been able to. 

Lawson had wanted her to hold fast, to keep an eye on the club, until he was able to round up enough men and cars to bust the Green Mill. It was a hive of bootleggers and lackeys and Lawson needed her inside to make sure they weren’t tipped off. That was all she had to do. But Miriam couldn’t pass up the shot she had at the King of Chicago. There was a thick crowd around him, the whole club packed to celebrate independence day in the most American way possible. Miriam could make it. She was trained for battle and this was her war.  

These booths and tables were her trench, the laughing men and screeching women was the sounds of shells and the fumes of sweat, excess and greed was the tear gas. The little pills tucked neatly in her handbag couldn’t tame the trembling in her fingers but it wasn’t nerves. It was a thrill. 

Miriam was at war. 

Miriam was in her element.  

Miriam was untouchable but these thrillseekers and mob lackeys didn’t know that. 

A lingering hand on her bare arm, a wolf whistle as she passed, tugging the long ringlets of brown that hung down her back. She was untouchable and yet they dared brush against her skin. 

She brushed past men who reeked of cigars and dirty money, dodging the arm of a cackling woman, her crow black glove grazing Miriam’s cheek. The perfume that was soaked into the silk was strong. Adrenaline, the (insert drug used in 1920s), and the scent was intoxicating enough. She might as well have downed an entire bottle of (1920s liquor). The room was swimming, blurry through watery eyes and splitting headache. Everything was red in the Green Mill and Miriam but a black speck in its midst. She couldn’t find her feet in the crowd of t-strap heels and loafers. Red in the midst of this battlefield. Red. Red like a garden of roses. These men were sure to carry weapons, their thorns, and all Miriam had was her gun, strapped to her thigh. This garden of roses, this flock of cardinals and she but a little black bird. So much red. 

Her head was turning, her stomach churning. Fingers still shaking and her breath growing shallow. How was it so cold in this room that was so packed of warm, living bodies? Five hundred men, dead in piles around her. Cold, dead bodies. And yet, she was shivering here. Being a doll didn’t distract her like the killing had. 

Red like roses. Red like rubies. Red like blood. Her battlefield looked different but if she did her job, there would be just as much death. No matter what they did, a raid always turned into a shootout. 

Red like roses. Red like rubies. Red like blood. And suddenly, gray. A flash of gray in the midst of all that red. 

Sadie. 

No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t the dark-haired girl. 

This was real. A man in a gray suit, standing and staring back at Miriam. His green eyes were like emeralds, not rubies, as he glanced to the clock on the wall. His suit wasn’t like blood, but there was a lump at his side where a sidearm would be. This man was real. This was real.

And her battle was real. Capone was real and so was the bullet loaded in her gun. She followed the man’s gaze to the wall, watching as the hand passed to eleven o’clock and the doors to the club burst open. 

Lawson was many things and a thorn in Miriam’s side but he was punctual, that she had to admit. He stood in the doorway, the dark night sky behind him and the air stilled. Jazz and gaiety froze in the air at his presence. 

“Having fun?” He asked. 

The bullets weren’t loose with any sort of accuracy, just a mad rush of lead and gunpowder in the attempt to rid the sanctuary of this agent who promised penalties and judgement. Crystal glasses and chandelier beads fell like rain. Like a dam had broken, the occupants of the club, once crammed in the plush walls of Capone’s castle were rushing towards any and all exits. They were running to avoid the men who had guns on either side.  Raids always turned into shootouts. 

Before Miriam could reach for her own weapon, something tackled her to the ground, heavy and gray. Her head slammed against the carpeting, already reeling from the adrenaline and now from the impact. She groaned, grabbing and scratching to be released from the vice like grip. 

“What the hell?” The being that had felt it necessary to push her down between two tables, among the broken glass and beads, sat up. “I was helping you.” 

“Get off of me!” Miriam shouted above the gunfire that still rained overhead. She reached for the pistol strapped to her thigh, and glared at the man, who stared dumbfounded at her. “I said, get off!” 

He rolled off her and she got to her knees, keeping her head in the cover of the now tipped over table, the fabric of her dress soaking up the spilled whiskey. Lawson and his men were still firing heavy volleys, like they were in France again but Miriam knew that trying to outgun a group of gangsters was a futile approach. She needed to find Capone and shoot him, taking down as many as she could. 

They would have taken him out first. Royalty, or as rich as, would have been escorted quickly away from the shooting and the law men, that was just good protection, but Miriam prayed she might still have a chance. 

She straightened, long enough to catch a wild glance around the room and realizing that Al Capone was no longer there. Her prayers had fallen on deaf ears and Miriam’s chance to take down the king of crime was spent. 

“Goldschmidt! Get down!” Lawson shouted. Miriam ignored him, whipping around, pistol already in hand. Before either the gangster or the agent could fire a shot, her finger had already squeezed the trigger. 

Glass crunched under the dead weight as the finely dressed man fell to the floor. Miriam fell with him, arms encircling her as another round of gunfire rattle the beads on her dress. She didn’t struggle this time, the pain in her head starting again and threatening to release her to the dark comfort of unconsciousness. 

She trembled, in the arms of this gray man in the room of red. Shaking like a little black bird in strong winds. This battlefield was real. It felt real. 

Red. Sticking to her hands, her dress, her face. The gun in her fist was hot, burning hot, and though it seared blisters into her hands, Miriam couldn’t release it. Not until the last shot had been fired. Not until the agents had called for handcuffs. Not until Lawson’s face swam into view through watering eyes. 

“You two look cozy,” Lawson smirked. Miriam ignored his words but accepted his offered hand, pulling her up from the stained and glass-strewn carpet. The man who had tackled her more than once got to his considerable height. 

“Well, if it isn’t Allie Carroll, himself,” Lawson said, smiling broadly. “Bureau of Prohibition let you out of Knoxville?” 

Trapped between the two, Lawson and this giant, Miriam’s hand released the pistol into the depths of her tattered old handbag, joining the little vial of white capsules and the dog-eared pamphlet of codes. Her shoulders relaxing in relief to be rid of that gun for just a moment, she excused herself from the two men, who were chatting as if they had known each other their whole lives. 

She stepped to the side, picking her way through the ravaged tables and booths towards the bar she had begun her watch at. Several bottles on the shelves were shattered and shells of bullets were mixed among the liquor and glass but there were a few that remained intact. Miriam shouldn’t drink. But something in this raid had hit her, harder than anything she had ever experienced. 

The war had felt so fresh. Not two years in the past. The wounds were still healing though the scars on her face had closed. Miriam looked in the mirror behind the bar, riddled with bullet holes, and saw someone very different staring back at her. The white slashes that pitted her cheeks were hidden beneath the arrangement of her hair and the ridiculous skull cap that had completed her clubbing ensemble but the finery hadn’t changed that much. Miriam’s eyes were heavier, and her cheeks were hollowed. 

Had she eaten that day? Or the day before? She couldn’t remember. Miriam had been running on adrenaline since the war had ended, since she had arrived in America. The pills had given her peace enough to snatch a few hours of sleep and to soothe the visions of crows and blood. 

Miriam was different. She had a name, yes, one that was doing good work in this city. Miriam Goldschmidt was untouchable and Enyo was untamable. Miriam had paid the price. At the cost of her health, her mind, and her family. It had been worth it, hadn’t it? 

She was too sober to think like that. 

Selecting a bottle from the shelf that wasn’t shattered into a thousand pieces beneath her feet, Miriam picked through the rubble to find an overturned tumbler on the floor. Emptying it of any remaining booze, she filled it anew, watching the forbidden amber flow easily into the crystal. It promised her a little numbing release. Not as much as a good night’s sleep but Miriam had to be realistic. This glass would give her the most peace she had seen in years. 

Placing a pill on her tongue, she closed her eyes as the bitter taste dissolved in her mouth. It might have been psychosomatic but Miriam’s mind shook off the cloud that had hazed over her thoughts. It quickly turned to storm again at the sound of Lawson’s voice. 

“Nice hat, Goldie,” He said, grinning with an ease that Miriam hadn’t seen before. He looked happy, with an almost child-like youth that one wouldn’t expect from a man who had just shot through the luxury fixtures and fine design of the Green Mill. He tugged one of the many tassels that were falling across Miriam’s brow. She rolled her eyes and, huffed in annoyance, as she yanked the contraption off her head.  Picking up the glass of whisky, she washed down the taste of the pill. 

“So you drink?” the man in the gray suit asked. 

“When the occasion calls for it,” and today, it called for it. 

“But you are an agent,” he said this like it mattered. Like her occupation had some great effect on the way she chose to numb her pain and block out her demons. 

“I am. And what are you?” 

“I’m confused why you would consume the product you are supposed to be restricting.” His green eyes were inquizitive, trying to puzzle out Miriam. So many had tried and so many had failed, she had given up hope of actually being solved.  

“This is Allen Carroll. We grew up together,” Lawson said, leaning back with a smug look on his face. As if he had lit the fuse to very different fireworks on this fourth of July. 

“It’s illegal to buy it, Allen,” Miriam said easily, taking another sip of the amber liquid. “I didn’t pay a dime for this.” 

“So you support anti-prohibition?” Allen leaned against the bar, the grey suit jacket stained with booze and blood but it fit him well nonetheless. 

“I see the benefits of the drink, if that’s what you mean?”  

“Benefits? Other than inebriation and abuse, what purpose does it serve?” Allen scoffed, his next words would have been like a knife to Miriam’s heart if she hadn’t been used to the pain. “I don’t see why any good person would want to drink.” 

Her fingers tightened around the glass, her knuckles turning white as Miriam’s head tilted to one side, considering Allen’s question. A good person. A good sister. A good soldier. A good agent. “Yes, why would anyone who has lived through the hell of war want to forget?” 

“I served. I do not need it.” He said it proudly, as if he wasn’t ashamed that he had fought. As if he was proud to not require the help of whisky or pills to live with himself. 

“Good. More for me.” Miriam said, turning to Lawson she asked, “How many this time?” He held up three fingers. Three gangsters caught. Which was, of course, nothing to be ashamed of but she had the perfect shot at Capone. Damn. 

“Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” Carroll said, smoothly drawing the conversation back to her and the heinous excuse for morals that she harbored. 

“Miriam Goldschmidt,” She had extended her hand and half expected him to reject it. He hadn’t, clasping her hand firmly in his own. “What exactly are you doing here?” 

“Aside from saving your ass?” He ignored Miriam’s protests and defense of her own capabilities and forged on, glancing at Lawson. “I am to supplement the work of the FBI with my experience in the Bureau of Prohibition.” 

“So I take it we are stuck with you,” Miriam said at the same moment Lawson exclaimed. “Oh thank God I’m not stuck with her anymore.” 

“Isn’t Mollie waiting up for you?” Miriam snapped at Lawson, refilling the glass with more whisky. “We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting. You know how wives get.” 

Lawson shrugged, though he did check his watch. Turning to Carroll, he asked. “You got a place to stay tonight?” Before he could answer, Lawson had clapped him on the shoulder. “Of course you can stay with us!” Carroll had muttered something like, “pleasure to meet you,” to Miriam which of course had been an absolute lie, before being swept away by Lawson. 

The dark-haired man called over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Goldie.” 

Miriam was alone again, in the room of broken glass and red-toned finery, nursing a glass of illegal whisky. Just her. And out of the corner of her eyes, laying in the wreckage, in a pool of blood….

A little gray girl. She was always there. Corners of offices, in her apartment. Standing at the end of hallways. She never left her. They were always together. 

“Yeah,” Miriam said, shutting her eyes tight against the vision. “See you tomorrow.” 

[abouthoundsandlittlebirds]

Recently I've discovered that each OP and ED song of InuYasha has different meanings in every language that they were translated.

So, I've decided to share with you 3 different versions of my favorite opening: Angelus.

Here is the free translation I did from brazilian portuguese:

Anjo (Angelus / Angel)

Amor perdido (Lost love)

Lágrimas partem o seu coração ferido (Tears break your hurt heart)

Não deixe que a fraqueza te inquiete (Don't let your weakness bother you)

Aja com decisão e valor (Act with decision and valour* - could be translated as honour)

Seu olhar perdido vagando no céu (Your lost glance wondering in the sky)

Pense que tudo é parte do passado (Think that everything belongs to the past)

Sua única salvação é aquele esplendor que se encontra em seu interior (Your only salvation is that light that is hidden inside you)

Ao me olhar no espelho lembro dessa promessa (When I look myself in the mirror I recall this promise)

E de você doce presença junto à mim (And your sweet presence with me)

Descobri que tenho asas e que eu posso voar (I discovered that I have wings and that I can fly)

Sei que mudarei o mundo, também o fará (I know that I will change the world - and I know you - will do it too)

Persiga os seus sonhos com força e amor (Chase your dreams with strength and love )

Todo tipo de miragens você verá (All kind of mirages you will see)

Seu espírito de luta descobrirá que a força do seu coração leva um grande futuro anjo guardião (Your fighting spirit will find out that the strength of your heart carries a great future guardian angel)

Procure os fragmentos que estão perdidos dentro de você (Search for the fragments that are lost inside you)

And here is the two english version that I've found:

First version:

Angelus

Flowing down are the tears, to the one I cry for

Like rolling waves, they can't ever reach and meet shore

Don't think that I am too weak, just because I will weep

This tenderness won't hold back clarity

Sometimes I cannot breath, if you're standing near me

Trapped in this darkness the sky's found in your eyes, I see

The sun is shinning so bright, but the lights left you blind

Please tell me, what are you trying to find?

The day I swore to free you, my mirror will tell the truth

I'll finally find the me inside the broken you

This journey laying in front of me, spread out your wings and be free

As you change your feelings the world will change along with you

The flame that's running on love will expose

Burning, burning dream I held back will finally show

In the sky the light will shine on the rivers down below

But only the gentle heart soon will know

In the future, who will be the angel breaking through

Hold the shards of passion you find worthy, close to you

Second version:

Angelus

Gentle whispers of tears

Falling softly for you

Just like a river they flow

Only showing my truth

Don't you assume that I am weak

Don't you dare let this go

Plase take my love and continue to grow

In these moments with you

Taking my breath away

Inside your eyes lies a sky

Future shining so bright

Always you're looking ahead

Looking towards a new day

What you are searching for

I cannot say

While looking in the mirror

The image become clearer

And staring back at me all that I saw was you

With wings white as the snow

I knew that we would soar to the sky

Day by day you start to change

And the world will change with you

A fiery passion that starts from a dream

Burning, burning

Slowly it beguns something more

Light that shines across the sky

Ripples dancing on the waves

They all are born from a heart full of love

Fighting for the future

You're an angel born anew

All my wishes they seem like a faraway dream

I'd be the breeze if I could

Blowing gentle and free

Gently embracing you there

In the sky I would sing

Lifting you high as the wind in your wings

But now my heart is racing

These fears that I'm now facing

This painful past won't hold me back as I break free

A rainbow shining so bright will be

Will be waiting for you and for me

Suddenly you've changed

And the world can't help but change with you

A burning love that is lighting the way

Pounding, pounding

It ignites desire unknown

Deeper than the ocean blue

Dreams my seem unthinkable

You have strength hidden deep in your soul

Lighting up the darkness

You're an angel born anew

If I continue to run this race

I'll spread my wings soaring high

Day by day you start to change

And the world will change with tou

A fiery passion that starts from a dream

Burning, burning

Slowly it becomes something more

Light that shines across the sky

Ripples dancing on the waves

They all are born from a heart full of love

Fighting for the future

You're an angel born anew

Hold onto the shards of passion

Keep them close to you

And this is the japanese version with the translation made by KaoruK, a youtube channel:

Angelus

The tears shed for someone

Fall on your cheeks like a prayer

Don't hide them as "weakness"

Accept them as "tenderness"

I am going to make you even forget to breath

In the sky I have found in your eyes

The sun is shinning: what is it that you keep searching for?

That day, as you looked in the mirror and made a vow

I am sure you saw

That you too, had wings on your back

You change, and the world changes with you

Let the flames of love

Cross this flickering mirage and reach your dreams

Let it put light in the sky and water on the ground

And strength in your heart

We will reach the future, Angelus

If you could have a wish come true, you'd choose to ride on the wind, wouldn't you?

Your wings throw away all confusion and take to my wind

Your heart leaping, and a feeling of fear

When you can shake off the pain of your past

You will find a rainbow in full colour

The heartbeat of the love you've begun to carve out

Is changing the world more every second

My wish is flaring up, scorching hot

The strength to chase this dream

Deeper than the sea and yet unfulfilled

Is lighting up the darkness, Angelus

If you keep running, you are sure to be able to fly...

You change, and the world changes with you

Let the flames of love

Cross this flickering mirage and reach your dreams

Let it put light in the sky and water on the ground

And strength in your heart

We will reach the future, Angelus

Take hold of the pieces of your passion

So, even if the lyrics are different, there are common words, like: angel, wind, wings, (changing) world, mirage, heart, love, dreams, pieces (as fragments/shards), water (as ocean/sea/waves, river and tear), mirror, free, weakness, sky, rainbow and strength.

When this song OP was released, a lot of SessKagu shippers were pleased due to that only scene that worked as a hint of this ship being canon (before the sad events):

But if we link those common words that are shown in the majority of those lyrics above, we can assume that the song Angelus worked as a tribute to this fallen (but not dead) ship. And some elements can be see in Hanyou no Yashahime (HNY).

In HNY, we have rainbow (pearls), dreams, a world that is changing, water (seems to have a huge role yet to unfold), wind (Setsuna's attack) and the most important of all: love.

Imo, this song could work as a prelude to HNY's events, specially if Kagura is indeed Sesshomaru's wife, as a lot of clues points to her as the twins' mother.

Could an important hint be hiding all this time in an old OP song or am I just taking things so far? Please, let me know (probably I am taking things so far, anyway...)!

P.S.: I am sorry for my typos.

[jshoulson]

Today’s Poem

The Errancy --Jorie Graham

Then the cicadas again like kindling that won’t take. The struck match of some utopia we no longer remember the terms of— the rules. What was it was going to be abolished, what restored? Behind them the foghorn in the harbor, the hoarse announcements of unhurried arrivals, the spidery virgin-shrieks of gulls, a sideways sound, a slippery utterly ash-free delinquency and then the subaqueous pasturings inexhaustible phosphorous handwritings the frothings of their own excitements now erase, depth wrestling with the current-corridors of depth ... But here, up on the hill, in town, the clusterings of dwellings in balconied crystal-formation, the cadaverous swallowings of the dream of reason gone, hot fingerprints where thoughts laid out these streets, these braceletings of park and government—a hospital—a dirt-bike run— here, we stand in our hysteria with our hands in our pockets, quiet, at the end of day, looking out, theories stationary, while the freight, the crazy wick, once more slides down— marionette-like its being lowered in— marionette-strung our outwaiting its bloody translation ... Utopia: remember the sensation of direction we loved, how it tunneled forwardly for us, and us so feudal in its wake— speckling of diamond-dust as I think of it now, that being carried forward by the notion of human perfectibility—like a pasture imposed on the rising vibrancy of endless diamond-dust ... And how we would comply, some day. How we were built to fit and comply— as handwriting fits to the form of its passion, no, to the form of its passionate bearer’s fingerprintable i.d., or, no, to the handkerchief she brings now to her haunted face, lifting the sunglasses to wipe away the theory—or is it the tears?—the freight now all in her right hand, in the oceanic place we’d pull up through her wrist—we’d siphon right up— marionette with her leavening of mother-of-pearl— how she wants to be legible, how the light streaking her shades now grows vermilion, which she would capture of course, because that, she has heard, from the rumorous diamond-dust, is what is required, as also her spirit—now that it has been swallowed like a lustrous hailstone by her unquenchable body—suggests—the zero at the heart of the christened bonfire—oh little grimace, kiss, solo at the heart—growing refined, tiny missionary, in your brightskirted host, scorched comprehension—because that is what’s required, her putting down now the sunset onto that page, as an expression of her deepest undertowing sentiment, which spidery gestures, tongued-over the molecular whiteness, squared out and stretched and made to resemble emptiness, will take down the smoldering in the terms of her passion —sunglasses on the table, telephone ringing— and be carried across the tongue-tied ocean, through dusk, right through it, over prisons, over tiny clapboard houses to which the bartender returns, exhausted, after work, over flare-ups of civil strife, skeletons rotting in the arms of skeletons, the foliage all round them gleaming, the green belly-up god we thought we’d seen the last of, shuddering his sleep off, first fruit hanging ripe—oh bright red zero— right there within reach, that he too may be nourished, you know this of course, what has awakened which we thought we’d extinguished, us still standing here sword in hand, hand extended, frail, over the limpid surface of the lake-like page, the sleep-like page, now folded and gently driven into its envelope, for the tiny journey, over offices, over sacrifices, to its particular address, at the heart of the metropolis, where someone else is waiting, hailstone at the core, and the heat is too great, friend, the passion in its envelope, doors slamming, traffic backing-up, the populace not really abandoned, not really, just very tired on its long red errancy down the freeways in the dusklight towards the little town on the hill—the crystal-formation?— how long ago was it we said that? do you remember?— and now that you’ve remembered—and the distance we’ve traveled—and where we were, then—and how little we’ve found—aren’t we tired? aren’t we going to close the elaborate folder which holds the papers in their cocoon of possibility, the folder so pretty with its massive rose-blooms, oh perpetual bloom, dread fatigue, and drowsiness like leavening I feel—

[novantinuum]

Ballroom Etiquette

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 2.8K~

Summary: As much as it pains him to admit it amidst all the boring protocol, Pearl is absolutely right. There’s no room for imperfection at a Homeworld Ball.

In which Steven is publicly introduced to the Gems of Homeworld as Pink Diamond, and he experiences the first true stage fright of his life.

(Canon compliant, a missing scene set during ‘Together Alone.’)

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit it from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support over there as well.

Ballroom Etiquette “Do we have to say all this?” he questions, nose scrunching as he squints at the string of dialogue displayed on the view screen that Pearl’s been so gracious to translate out of written Gem for him.

His guardian wets her finger, and begins the meticulous and daunting task of coaxing his flyaway curls to stand still. For once in his life he doesn’t protest.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid we have no choice,” she mutters, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear as he continues to commit the mini speech to memory.

“But it’s all so stiff!”

“It kinda feels like we’re in one of the Regency Era dramas my mom watches,” Connie comments, peeking over his shoulder to read the screen, and shrugs. “I always thought they were pretty boring, really.” She’s wearing different clothes now, namely that skirt and blouse she showed up to Kevin’s party in, and her dark hair is tied back. She looks lovely, he thinks, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

“Well, boring or not, it’s very important that we uphold every Homeworld custom to the letter tonight,” Pearl says, and crosses her arms. “And that includes all the stiff dialogue.”

He visibly deflates, his shoulders hunching inwards. “Awww man, can’t we like... adapt it a little or somethin’?”

Any and all remaining color drains out of the pale Gem’s face at his suggestion.

“Not with White Diamond in attendance, goodness no,” she says in a fervent whisper, eyes blown wide. She rapidly scans their surroundings, as if paranoid someone unwanted is listening in to their rebellious conversations. “You have to understand, she won’t settle for anything less than complete perfection!”

“Doesn’t feel like perfection,” Steven mumbles, glaring daggers at the view screen in hand.

“Yes, and I’m sorry for that. I know none of this is ideal, but like you said— we need to talk to White. And I think this may be the thing that finally coerces her out of her head.”

“Hey, it’s just for tonight, right?” Connie says with a reassuring smile. Gently, she rests her hand on his arm. “We’ll be fine!”

He breathes deep, letting her solid presence ground him. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Excellent!” Pearl nods. “I’ll let Blue and Yellow’s pearls know we’re about to begin.”

She spins on her heels and leaves the ballroom’s connecting chamber with such refined, habitual grace that it sends a physical pang through his heart just to witness it. Sure, of course she’s worth far more as an individual than the endless servitude of the place from whence she came, but watching her interact with other Gems here on Homeworld carries a weight far greater than any burden he can imagine. The ease at which she slots back into old routine bit-by-bit— seemingly without thinking, from an outsider’s perspective— it stings.

Inhaling evenly, he eyes the thick curtain they’re set to enter the ballroom through in but a few minutes. Beyond, the Gems of the courts await the return of their beloved diamond. At least, who they believe to be their beloved diamond. Steven genuinely doesn’t know how these Homeworld Gems will react to him. He doesn’t exactly look like the Pink they remember, after all. Nevertheless, their excitement is palpable, hundreds of low chittering voices echoing through the crystal studded rafters despite the usual decorum of such a ball. Frowning, he nervously shuffles his feet underneath him as he tries and fails not to think about the near future. The white pom poms floating at the tips of his shoes follow his motion perfectly. The outfit the Pebbles made him may fit like a second skin, but the longer he wears it the more it feels wrong... in the ‘disrespecting the deceased’ sort of way.

He’s honestly never considered himself the type to get all nervous about crowds until this very moment. Sweat beads at his brow as his mind swims at the thought of their incoming entrance. His fidgeting hands grow clammy. Compared to the number in attendance tonight, his past Beach-a-Palooza performances are but a mere pit stop. The thing is, at least home in Beach City he has the reassurance that everyone personally knows him. At least then he knows he has nothing to prove.

Here? His every word— heck, his every waking breath— commands the sole line drawn between life and eternal corruption. Fall flat in front of this crowd, and he can kiss saving the bubbled Gems goodbye.

As much as it pains him to admit it amidst all the boring protocol, Pearl is absolutely right. There’s no room for imperfection at a Homeworld Ball.

Music begins to chime from inside the ballroom as Pearl, Steven, and Connie dutifully line up behind the opaque curtain, a number of Gems he hasn’t gotten the chance to officially meet yet still skittering around them in a logistics motivated frenzy. The melody is played on no kind of instrument he audibly recognizes— a thought that briefly excites him in its learning potential before he realizes no, no, there’s no time to waste daydreaming about enriching yourself with other forms of Homeworld culture. Regardless, the overall cadence of the piece brings back faint memories of the traveling circus Dad brought him to in Ocean Town once, on his sixth birthday. Which is a rather apt comparison, since that’s exactly what all of this feels like. One gigantic three-ring circus.

“By the way, the Diamonds told me to tell you that they want you to present your aura when you enter,” Pearl whispers, straightening her sash.

His brow creases, newfound worry rising to replace the fear he left behind.

“My what?”

“Aura. Theoretically, all diamonds have one, and they think it’d be helpful in convincing the courts that you really have Pink’s gem. Mind you, I’m just the messenger.”

“But I don’t know how to do that,” he blurts out in a mild panic, glancing from her to his gloved hands. “I barely know what I’m doing at this ball in the first place!”

“I’m sure as long as you try your best, everything will work out fine,” Connie says. “They have to understand by now that you don’t have any of your mom’s memories about this sorta stuff.”

“I’m afraid you overestimate their objectivity,” Pearl mutters, peeking through the curtain briefly before turning back to face the two of them. “But otherwise, yes.” With a reassuring smile, she kneels so they’re at eye level and calms his nervous hands in her own. “Listen… We’re all so proud of you for even attempting this, Steven. Just do the best you can following their customs. You’ll get through it, I promise.”

His heart grows a little lighter as she gives his hands a light squeeze, further reinforcing the sense of groundedness that hangs in such a delicate balance right now.

“All of us will,” his best friend adds, nodding towards the ivory Gem. “Together.”

“Together,” he echoes, and immediately pulls the two of them into a tight embrace. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes as he focuses his mind on the comforting weight of their arms wrapped around him. “Thanks, you guys.”

“Ahem!” a familiar voice interrupts.

He looks up, their hug loosening, only to see Yellow Diamond’s Pearl looming over him. There’s almost something smug about the way she regards them all, eyes narrowed and pointed nose held aloft. He wonders if Yellow sent her personally. Notably, when her gaze briefly flickers towards Pearl, her mouth curves into a haughty sneer.

“Pink Diamond,” she says to him with a snappy Homeworld salute. “Whenever you are ready to begin, just let your pearl know. Goodness knows we can get ever so distracted. Perhaps the Diamonds should finally have us all replaced.”

Pearl freezes, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks. Even Connie covers her mouth in shock at her bluntness.

“No, no, I was just— talking to her, it was all me,” Steven explains, gesturing wide. “She did nothing wrong, a-and…” His eyes snap open wide upon realizing the self-depreciation evident in her comment. Perhaps the Diamonds should finally have us all replaced. And she said it with such nonchalance. Once more, his heart aches for the mistreatment of the Gems on Homeworld. “And neither did you!”

“If you say so, My Diamond. In any case, my Diamond will see you inside the ballroom shortly.”

With this final remark, Yellow Pearl turns on her heels and promptly removes herself from their presence. He watches her stalk off with a pensive frown, a sudden wave of melancholy flowing like ice through his veins. It’s a stark reminder of the truth he doesn’t quite want to admit after his previous starry-eyed optimism: that even if he can mend the bonds between the Crystal Gems and the Diamonds, even if he can heal all the corrupted Gems, there’s still a lot of inequality and unfair treatment on Homeworld they have to sort out. He has a lot of work cut out for him no matter what, that’s for sure.

“Well, guess we can’t stall this any longer,” Connie says. “You ready?”

Despite his currently conflicted emotions, he manages a grin. “As I’ll ever be. Pearl, you’ll be okay, right?”

“Hah, me?” she scoffs, gesturing at herself with a sly smile so befitting of the confident, fearless rebel he’s always known her as. “I participated in hundreds of balls during my time here with Pink. What’s one more?”

Squaring her shoulders back, she passes between the curtains and enters the ballroom. Immediately, their audience falls silent in anticipation.

“I still don’t know how to do the aura thing,” Steven frantically whispers to Connie, cupping his mouth with his hand. “I think it’s what I did in the battle on the beach, when I was stuck in that weird psychic ghost zone, but I’m not sure!”

“Well, what were you thinking during it?”

“Uh… mostly, I was tired of people fighting about it, so… I guess I just really wanted them to finally know the truth?”

“Then maybe you should try focusing on that,” she suggests, smoothing out the wrinkles on her skirt. “You’ll do great out there, I know you will!”

“If I may have everyone’s attention,” he hears Pearl declare from beyond the curtain, and promptly snaps to attention, preparing himself to enter. The almost robotic cadence of her voice as she’s forced back into her former role in yet another fashion is disturbingly jarring. “Presenting, safe on Homeworld for the first time in over five millennia, the kind and charismatic elegance that is Pink Diamond!”

He breathes deep one last time, in and out, and with Connie at his side (not even the stringent customs of the diamonds could scare him into presenting their relationship as anything but that of equals) he slips past the thick curtains. The music cuts off.

Immediately, his heart beating double time, his senses are assaulted by indiscriminate flashes of light and color. These further coalesce into recognizable shapes, into rows of Homeworld Gems of all courts and cuts, Gems as far as the eye could see. His hands jitter at his side. The amount of people watching, it’s- it’s unfathomable, and uncomfortable, and they’re all staring directly at him. Curiously, expectantly. But wait, what are they—?

He finally spots Pearl, his guardian standing stiff in fifth position at the foot of Pink Diamond’s throne, all the way across the vast reaches of the ballroom. A subtle smile curving across her face, the Gem nods at him, and it’s exactly the encouragement he needs.

“They want you to present your aura when you enter,” the Pearl of the past reminds him. “They think it’d be helpful in convincing the courts that you really have Pink’s gem.”

“I still don’t know how to do the aura thing,” he admits to Connie, hands growing clammy.

“Well, what were you thinking during it?”

“I guess I just really wanted them…”

“...to know the truth,” he whispers in completion, steeling his nerves. Even if this doesn’t work the way he intends, he at least has to try. Everything that happens tonight, he thinks, anchoring his mind and soul on all the bubbled Gems waiting for him back at home. This is for you guys.

His eyes flutter shut, and— aligning his thoughts on the same themes of radical light, hope, and love that permeated his sense of self when confronting the Diamonds— he extends his arms. Simultaneously, a strangely familiar rush of energy radiates outwards from his gem. Next to him, he hears Connie let out an awed gasp. Steven opens his eyes.

He… he actually did it! The entire ballroom is bathed in pink, the air nearly shimmering as the Gems in attendance audibly react to the reality of this revelation. Eyes widen in dumbfounded shock all throughout the crowd. Some begin excitedly chittering to their neighbors, while others fall silent in the wake of their slowly receding disbelief. In the front row, a stocky maroon Gem struggles to contain her tears. He can’t help but breathe a soft laugh of relief, knowing this success brings him one step closer to convincing White to help. The throne, however, lies so many steps further.

He and Connie cruise across the ballroom floor as fast as they can gracefully manage, desperate to get out of the spotlight. The fact that everyone’s focus is squared directly on him honestly leaves his skin crawling. In literally any other scenario he’d probably revel in being the center of attention, but here, presented in the guise of his mother, all of this feels wrong. It feels fabricated, insincere. Yes, he may have the same gem, but that doesn’t make them the same person. He’s not Her.

It’s the truth no one on Homeworld seems to understand.

Finally, they climb the steps to the pink throne. As rehearsed, Connie falls in place beside Pearl, demurely crossing her feet. At the foot of the throne, he turns to look back at the diverse crowd. Seeing who they believe to be their diamond standing whole before them once more, they fall silent. Sweat beads on his brow as his mouth bobs open. Words... Oh gosh, what are the words? His short speech?? His breath quickens as the silence drags on far too long. This is bad, this is so, so bad. He’s so sure he had it memorized a moment ago, but now he can barely remember a single syllable of it! His limbs go rigid, frozen in place under the weight of Homeworld’s judgement.

(He can even sense Connie’s eyes pinned on him, and he’s not sure what to feel about that.)

“Greeting,” Pearl whispers from the corner of her mouth.

“Uh... h-hello, loyal subjects!” he stammers, painfully aware how off-script he is, “I—“

A warm hand slips into his, a perfect fit. Connie. She gives his fingers a gentle squeeze. He inhales through his nose, wholly focusing himself on the solidness of the ground beneath his feet. Like a river breaking through a dam, the words surge forth.

“My courts,” he recites in as posh and refined a tone he can manage, “I appreciate having you all in attendance tonight, to celebrate the grand occasion of my return. That’s why, uh… As such, if White Diamond is in approval, this ball will mark the start of Era Three.”

Pearl gives a deep curtsey, gesturing wide at the assembled crowd. “Gems previously belonging to Pink’s court may now present themselves,” she says impassively, and then returns to fifth position.

“Thank you, Pearl!”

Her arms and hands automatically shoot into the traditional salute over her chest. “You’re very welcome, My Diamond.”

And with those very words, the spell over the crowd dissipates. The music resumes. A line of Pink court Gems begins to assemble at the front of the ballroom, preparing themselves for presentation. Nearly buzzing with excess adrenaline, he jumps up to reach the throne’s seat.

“You did wonderful, Steven,” Pearl says from below.

“Thanks for the help,” he grins, kicking his feet to slow his descent. His feet touch down with barely a hair on his head ruffled. “Geeze, am I glad that’s over,” he sighs, and plops down to sit in the massive pink throne with his legs criss-crossed. “I’ve never dealt with stage fright like that in my whole life!”

“Now you probably understand what I felt like at my middle school dance a few years ago,” Connie laughs.

“Heh, yeah! I—” he runs his fingers through the short curls at the nape of his neck— “I just hope it was enough to make a good impression.”

“I’m sure you did,” she says. “Anyways, there’s no use fussing about it now. What happens, happens. And hey, who knows? Pearl said there’d be dancing, right? Maybe the rest of this ball will be kinda fun!”

[snakewives]

Okay but like Stranger Tides AU

So everyone has their Golden Age of Piracy AU and listen I get it. I need Crowley swinging down as a pirate as she rips open the corset of Aziraphale to save her from drowning ala that scene from Curse of the Black Pearl. 

HOWEVER  Pirate Crowley and Aziraphale will come later bc right now I can’t get ineffable wives based off Stranger Tides out of my head. Stranger Tides was trash but honestly had one thing going for it and it was that mermaid and the priest subplot.  - Crowley is the mermaid/siren here although honestly it works both ways.

- I mean Crowley as a priest losing her faith (or rather finding it in someone else) is V Good. Plus in case you haven’t seen it - that ending with the two of them:(”Forgive me?” LORD) but for the purposes of this post I’m going to keep it to one AU at a time. 

- Aziraphale is the (nun I guess? Lady of the cloth) serving on a voyaging boat of the Royal Navy for REASONs. She would have been killed when they (demons-as-pirates) captured the first ship she was on, but hey wouldn’t you know she’s a bit of a bookworm and can translate some of these older maps and texts their touting around trying to find this hidden treasure. So for the time being she’s valuable but she’s also a captive now of the pirates, helping them find this fountain of youth. 

- They know they need the tears of a siren to get to the fountain and book it to this location that Aziraphale was able to parse out from the maps. 

- Anyways I said she was on this ship for reasons but honestly it’s cause her mother superior knew she was a bit of the odd one out and wasn’t all that great at falling into line.  - So they tell her to go on this mission, spread the good word (I know none of this aligns historically all this will be backed up with research later when it’s not nearly midnight and I’m three ciders in)

- anyways until the pirates captured her she was honestly just fretting over whether or not she was doing the right thing (and tbh, maybe a little bored) bc if she’s not at home with her fellow sisters than who she is.  - Like the whole reason the priest leaves for a voyage in the movie is bc he thinks he’ll find his faith again through the sea and wind but he ends up finding it in his love and if that doesn’t describe a theme of these two I mean really

- Anyways so they get to this lagoon where the sirens are supposed to be & Aziraphale isn’t sure what to believe yet, she’s a woman of faith but sea monsters are another thing entirely but she’s also seen things on this journey. Things like strange pirates with seemingly cursed bodies and magic items passed amongst the hands of the crew and she knows the Lord works in mysterious ways. but she doesn’t really want to think too hard on it. 

- Just like she’s trying not to think too hard on other things. 

- She’s left in a little boat off to the side of the lagoon (the pirates have been cruel but honestly they sort of leave her alone and it’s almost like a weird comfort of being back in the nunery where if she didn’t speak than no one would give her grief and it was just a fine, lonely, quiet existence)

- and while they’re sailing through those quite waters she sees something in the fog and just as it draws close enough for her to make out what it is it disappears.

- only for the shape of a person to appear right along side her off the edge of the boat and the only warning she gets is “Well YOU don’t fit the profile of the typical sailor.” - cue Siren!Crowley just hanging out and Aziraphale stunned/awed/internally gay panicking at this women/creature/God’s Gift just leaning on her little boat within touching distance. - Crowley just finds her amusing but also interesting bc what’s someone like her doing all the way out here. 

- They find out some curious things about one another in their short introduction.  - Like how Crowley is a siren and yes she does tempt men to their dooms but it’s just a job all right? Or rather, more in her nature. Supposedly. She brings up how it’s in men’s nature to be gluttonous and greedy, coming to the lagoon to steal things that don’t belong to them.  - Aziraphale doesn’t know if she agrees but she knows within minutes that this conversation, this ease, is a missing piece she’s been looking for. 

- they have one conversation along the edge of that boat and though she knows she should be wary, knows that all the pirates say how sirens drag men down to the depth of the ocean, Aziraphale doesn’t feel as scared as she should be. She doesn’t really feel scared at all.  - even when the Siren gazes back with stunning, bright, yellow eyes with pupils more akin to a snake - of course it’s right after they have their chat that all this goes to SHIT bc the pirates come upon them and capture Crowley and are amazed Aziraphale was still alive.  - Aziraphale hopes they’re going to release the siren right away but Crowley hears they need a tear and is just “fuck you, it ain’t happening” - So the whole gang now is on their way bc of course the pirates!demons just figure they can make it work when they get to the fountain.  - Archangels are the Royal Navy in this but I gotta hash it out later.  - Anyways the events of the movie would play out somewhat similarly with Aziraphale gaining more confidence along the journey esp. when it comes to defending Crowley.  - and of course growing closer with her along the way. They’re from two opposite worlds and they shouldn’t trust each other but they DO ANYWAYS Anyways this is going to be split into a second post to map out before the fic comes bc this is too damn long.