aiming for the heart

I’m stupidly happy about this -

- because I wrote this exact scene in my hiatus fic a few weeks ago. Yay for charcterization!

With a roar or rage, he finally raises his gun out and shoots - he was aiming for the heart, but Sam pushed his arm aside at the last moment - they both watch as Jack frowns down at the bullet hole in his stomach (there is no blood), and fuck, there it is - the skin knitting together, the wound disappearing as if it’d never been there in the first place.

Dean hadn’t expected anything different, but it’s still a blow of sorts.

He hopes it hurt, at the very least, but then it doesn’t seem likely.

Fuck, the world is one unfair and messed-up place.

“Okay, that’s it,” Sam says, taking Dean’s gun from his unresponsive hand. “Dean, for fuck’s sake. And Jack - please, don’t do that. We only want to talk to you, okay?”

“He started it,” Dean mutters, feeling about four and unable to help it.

[amazing gif by @margarittet; gifset on the similarities between Jack and Cas here]

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

“I’m not going to kill you,” Clint hissed quietly. “That would be too easy.”

The man moved back a few more steps until he felt the balustrade at his knees. He stopped nervously, turned around and looked down to the street, fifteen storeys below them. But he turned only for the fraction of a second because he wouldn’t want to leave Clint out of his eyes for too long. He stood there, an arrow nocked and aimed at his heart.

“Please,” he started to beg but when Clint snorted he swallowed hard. “Don’t kill me.”

Clint couldn’t help himself, he had to cock his head and squint his eyes. “Are you stupid? What did I just say?”

“That… that you’re not going to kill me?” The man stammered.

“That’s right,” Clint said, moved his hand a bit, released the arrow and shot him in the foot, nailed it to the roof. The man started to scream.

“You said you wouldn’t shoot me!” he cried when he went down on his knee to reach for the arrow.

“I said I wouldn’t kill you,” Clint said, nocked another arrow and nailed the man’s hand to the roof, too. “That’s a difference.”

“I’ve never done anything to you,” the guy sobbed, fat tears running over his face.

Clint went to him, took a deep breath and hunkered down beside him. “That’s true,” Clint said and touched the arrow and the guy cried out even more. “But I know what you’ve done to the children you’ve been responsible for.” Clint reached into his quiver, pulled out another arrow and slammed it through the man’s other hand and nailed it to his knee. He screamed out but Clint grabbed his hair and forced him to look at him.

“You’re a teacher! It’s your job to teach kids, to inspire them, to encourage them,” he spat in his face. “Not to force them to suck this shriveled excuse for a dick you call your own!”

“Please,” the guy begged. “I will not do it again! I’ll turn myself in to the police!”

“Don’t worry, they’re already on their way,” Clint said. “I’ve called them myself.”

“Why? Aren’t you an assassin, hired to kill me?” The man pressed through his teeth.

“Like I’ve said, to kill you would be too easy. But when they put you in jail - and they will do that - then you’ll get lots of new friends who would love to teach you a thing or two about touching children in an inappropriate way,” Clint told him. The guy paled but when Clint reached out and patted his cheek, he almost got a heart attack.

They heard police sirens coming close and Clint took a deep breath. “So, that’s my call. I’ll leave you here,” he said and rose. “And this…” he put a flash drive onto the balustrade, “is for them.”

Clint folded his bow, put it in his quiver and waited till he could hear the cops run into the house before he took a running jump to the next roof. He went to the door into the building removed his his mask and his equipment, went down the stairs and left through the front door. He saw the cops dragging out the man to a cop car and they weren’t very gentle with him.

Clint smirked and walked to his truck, threw his stuff into the toolbox he had on the bed and drove away. Twenty minutes later he stopped in front of another building, where he saw Steve waiting for him. He left the car, opened the door and helped him inside.

“How was your physiotherapy, babe?” He asked when Steve sat down, heavily breathing.

“Straining,” Steve admitted. When Clint climbed back behind the wheel he smiled. “Thank you for picking me up.”

“No problem,” Clint smiled. He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek. “Got the job finished early and have the weekend off.”

“Oh?” Steve raised his brow. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “How does breakfast in bed sound to you?”


I am about to head to bed, but I thought of this @donaldtheduckdad and @robinine-blog.

Do you have any idea how many vengeance curses I have on my head?

We know a lot of people don’t like Scrooge. A lot of magical people don’t like him. I was thinking about the suspendersofdisbeief’s post concerning Gryo’s change in personality and how Scrooge’s change dealt more with his thirst of adventure rather than his greed for money.

He’s still greedy, but he isn’t as greedy as he is in comics. It’s sort of replaced for his love adventure.

Returning to the above quote, what if one of those vengeance curses hit Opal as a young adult?

What if Opal went missing during an expedition when she was a young adult? What if it had taken place before the Spear of Selene, or was indirectly related to what would come?

A vengeance curse could aim for Scrooge’s heart rather than his head, you know. The worst kind of pain a parent could feel is the loss of a child. 

What if Scrooge managed to survive from the first loss because he had Donald and Della, but when he lost Della…he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Alternatively, their estrangement could be that Opal didn’t meet Scrooge’s expectations as an adventurer. Or Opal felt that was the case when Scrooge was more ashamed and guilt ridden. 

It could be that for a time he lost sight on the adventure aspect, focusing solely on the prize, or that he completely overestimated Opal and didn’t understand her desires.

What if he and Goldie had a really unorthodox relationship in that Scrooge was the primary caregiver although they were technically “together” but not “together together.” 

They could handle a long distance relationship without either hearts straying, but Opal stayed mainly with her dad. They’re separated but not separated. 

Opal was close to Della and Donald. They were more like siblings than cousins, and yeah, while Opal might’ve been a little jealous with how Scrooge seemed to favor Della, she accepted it as it was. 

But what if an adventure went wrong. The treasure was lost in the rush. Scrooge was extremely upset about it, but hadn’t realized that Opal had saved him rather than the treasure. He said a lot of awful things to Opal, and that finished their relationship for a long time. 

Unless she went missing on another adventure without him…trying to get the treasure back. 

Now this one was really fun to do because i experimented with another coloring style which i don’t usually do which is cell shading and it was a really long process but I’m quite happy with how this turned out. 

To my first love,
I don’t think you will even recognize that these words are for you. I knew you didn’t think you were beautiful, or even relatively attractive, but I would have loved to spend the rest of my life convincing you of your perfection. Your flaws were what defined you. Your strength in the face of all your adversities, all the abuse you endured, inspired me. Your beauty was unconventional and every day I have gone without it, without you, tore my soul apart. Years have passed and we’re both adults now. The façade of childhood has left me. I no longer believe in the things I once fought for. I no longer recognize who I was with you. I doubt I ever cross your mind. Truth be told, you rarely cross mine. But, you still do. You continue to have this hold over me, a hold that forces me to compare all my lovers—past, present, and future—to you. Why? Our love was imperfect, abusive, tarnished. We held each other’s hearts in our hands and repeatedly poked and prodded and exploited the weaknesses we found until one of us cried for mercy. We reduced the other to tears on more occasions than I care to revisit. I wished you nothing but happiness when you left me. You wished for me to feel every suffering this world had to offer. You wished for me to feel as dirty, broken, alone, betrayed, as you felt when our truths were revealed. I was fucked up, you’re right, but you were as well. You are not without blame here. We were both too damaged to ever be good for each other. Your wish came true and for years, I have lived with a searing pit in my stomach. As I sit here and write these words to you, I realize that you are the reason I am like this. You are the reason I am the way I am. You are to blame for my cold, unfeeling ways. I may have loaded the gun, I may have pressed it into your hands, and I may have aimed it at my heart, but you are the one who pulled the trigger. I wrote this to put you out of my mind forever. I wrote this for the closure you never granted me; the closure I used to repeatedly seek through apologies and professions of guilt while you turned your back on me, admonishing me with threats if I did not disappear from your life. I wrote this because it’s been over four years since we met and two since you left and I still cannot get my thoughts off you. You ruined me, we ruined each other, but you recovered quicker. I am leaving you on this page. I am leaving the memories, the sleepless nights, the love, and the abuse here, in hopes of finally being free.
Regrettably yours,
—  the-hasslehaas, It’s been a year since I wrote this and the freedom has come.

Here’s a scene storyboarded on the “Toffee” episode. We went full on “horror” for Toffee’s rebirth (or whatever you want to call it). Then we transition to total devastation. I decided to add the scars on moon’s arms just as she attacked toffee to amplify the depths of moons despair as well as her growing rage. It also made sense to me to have moon try to cast her darkest spell on Toffee, aiming the wand directly at his heart this time. I’m sure at this point she regretted not killing him when she first had the chance. 

As far as Marco goes, who wouldn’t want to punch a hole through Toffee’s chest? He’s a best friend killer! Screw that Toffee guy. 

I should mention that there are a couple of Sabrina Cotugno’s original panels in this scene as well. She is quite a talent.

missing you feels a lot like an arrow to the heart. cupid’s bow aimed to please but left me bleeding out instead. how are you supposed to heal a wound when it keeps being reopened? how do i get you to love me back?
—  there’s no poetic way to say that when cupid fired his arrow it only hit one of us// 4am
'Out in Japan' Raises LGBT Awareness With 10,000 Photos
Over the course of five years, a diverse group of photographers have sought to capture the true face of Japan's LGBT community by photographing 10,000 people. They have just released their second volume, Out in Japan #002.

“Photos from the collection can be seen at Tokyo’s Hibiya Theater Creation through Oct. 9. At the exhibit’s opening last month, Leslie Kee, who directed the photography project, said that “everyone who participated in Out in Japan has their own story to tell.”

Out in Japan is an attempt to highlight the presence of LGBT people in daily life – a community that is not especially high-profile in Japan. Some Out in Japan #002 participants offered suggestions about how to make the fairly invisible LGBT community more visible, while others spoke about the obstacles to doing so.”

“We spent three minutes photographing some people, and 10 minutes photographing others,” Kee said. “This project aims to make the audience recognize, with both their eyes and their hearts, the subjects’ various identities.”

See photos of participants and read their stories here

What a great project! #RepresentationIsImportant