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ALT(I added translation in alt description. This is the first time I do this thing so I hope I made it right 👉👈. Also. Maybe I'll make a reblog with translation written in frames themselves but not now)
I really wanted to make this crossover. I mean like.. LOOK AT THEM🥺🤲💕💞
ALTOk listen we NEED to talk about your girlfriend. I know you’re doomed by the narrative and all, but she keeps defying the will of fate with her vain and ever more desperate attempts to save you. It’s SERIOUSLY going to rend the fabric of space-time if she keeps this up. I’m not even joking. We’re all going to end up in a closed loop of decaying reality if—it’s not cute, stop laughing!!
Imagine waiting for the coast guard or whatever to show up and instead a replica of 18th century merchant ship pulls up and tows you to the coast.
GETTING READY FOR 28TH
THE COLOURS?? THE LIGHTING?? THE WAY YOU DRAW CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE?? THE TEXTURE OF THE WHOLE PIECE???
GOD I CAN PRACTICALLY FEEL IT UNDER MY FINGERS THIS IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING😭😭😭✨✨✨✨✨
AZIRAPHALE EARRING YES
mangyraccooon asked:
Modern MAS Musician Au ]
this has been poking my brain, will I ever write it who knows?
Ace Punk Rock; Machine gun Kelly- very mainstream and adored for his music
Sabo alternative punk; YUNGBLUD - less mainstream but very popular in the UK and with lgbt/marginalized groups
Now Ace and Sabo have collaborated and have some.. feelings but that ain't gonna be looked at too closely cause both of them are focused on their careers. Anyway they end up getting contacted by Whitebeard records (a huge deal, Edward newgate was known as the father of rock for a reason)
SO they come in and are met by Newgate himself, Basically the deal is they are to collaborate in a album to re-launch Di-Angels Return.
Now for those who don't Know Di-angel or for those who were fans Marci Diangelo was a HUGE deal back in the day. Like Joan Jett mixed with Lady gaga. The woman was the beginning of the punk rock scene, aggressively making out with both genders for paparazzi and generally being an absolute menace. Ace and Sabo of course say yes, (Sabo was inspired to start his own music career by her and Ace just thinks she's neat.)
Anyway the day comes where they are supposed to meet Her, Di- Angel, Marci and of course Sabo is kinda fanboying and Ace may or may not be very jealous cause come on, she was hot back in the day but she's in her 40s now. Instead of the busty blonde who once screamed into the microphone about flying away. They are met with a blonde man in a leather jacket.
"Uhm, excuse me?" Ace wants to be irritated but damn the guy is smokin hot. "We were supposed to be meeting Di-angel here."
The man blinks sleepy blue eyes, "yeah, I know."
Sabo bites his lip eye twitching, "You- Marci, we are meeting with Marci Diangelo, the singer."
The blonde man sticks a cig in his mouth, the corner quirking up. "Just said, I know. But you obviously are a bit behind the times." The man stands towering over both of them, "I go by Marco now, call me Marci again and I'll send you both through the door got it?"
apphiarothowrites answered:
Oh shit, fuck yeah, this is GOOD SHIT right here raccooon.
Ever since Pops suggested relaunching Di-Angel, Marco’s been nothing but a roll of anxiety in human skin. While their family was fairly accepting, and the punk-rock community as a whole generaly was too, the larger scene is…well. Not quite the same. With most of the people of Marco’s generation reacting across the entire spectrum from acceptance to hard rejection, Marco honestly didn’t think it would be a good idea.
Yes, his voice and range dropped by a few octaves. Yes his old favorite dresses didn’t fit the same any more (not that he wanted to put on most of them any more, just the shiny leather number but he had to get it tailored for the new dimension of his chest and hips). Yes, he’s different now and that difference is something that he’s gotten shit for from people he thought were friends and something that people he thought hated him were supportive of. It’s been a roller coaster of strangeness and that was before Pops suggested relaunching his music career.
He left music because he knew the reactions would be. Mixed. once things got off the ground for his transition. Music never left him-Pops has multiple videos of him humming melodies and tapping beats from doctors’ offices and one in a hospital bed-but the scene? He assumed the scene left him well behind.
Then Pops came to him with this insane idea and told him that these two young pups, rising stars and rough diamonds the both of them, were jumping and chomping at the bit. Marco didn’t know what to think. He told Pops he’d reserve judgement until they met, but even then the hotcold churning in his stomach of anxiety was steadily eating his confidence of this whole thing working.
Then he meets them and despite the fact that neither of them knew who he was now, they were adorably eager just as Pops said. And, just as Pops said, they’re talented if a bit raw. Unrefined, somehow. Both have a similar feel-rough voices in a slightly high medium range, but what really grabs Marco’s attention is that they both actually play. Something that’s fallen out of fashion in newer bands, that their lead vocalists know what to do with a guitar in hand, they both pick up an axe during the experimental jam session and they aren’t too bad either. They know classic riffs and stings, whole lead lines from classic and punk rock staples.
Then something of a miracle happens. Ace picks up a bass and smacks out a fairly simple beat on 5, jumping octaves, and Sabo picks up Marco’s old stage piece and. Oh.
That’s the lead and bass of “I Feel Fine” and Marco’s nothing if not a perfectionist for the classics. He grabs the mic they rigged up for his studio, coughs to clear his throat, and-
Ace does something to the bass beat, a lick or two to change things juuuuust a little and Sabo slips a few 16th and 32nd notes here and there, little twangs to change the key down a half step and suddenly its not The Beatles any more, it’s something a little rougher, a little less refined, it’s something from the back alleys of a queer bar that Marco used to dress butch for where he got called a good man for the first time. It’s like being in love, if love were a dirty suckerpunch and a cigarette after-if love was two men who might not always be men-if love was a little less straight.
That ends up being the second song on the album a year later, a fucking Beatles cover that rockets them right to the top of the charts in multiple countries and forces Marco back into the spotlight no matter how much he tries pushing the younger stars forward and blames them for the majority of their sound. Three vocalists who trade off is definitely strange, especially since Marco is….well, not ‘Marci’ any more.
But it works, somehow Pops’ insane idea doesn’t explode in their faces, and if there’s maybe a little charged something that happens in the limo ride home from their first awards show, something that’s been building for months and months over heated eye contact and falling asleep on each other in the studio and appreciative whistling during the set and costume set-up of music videos, well.
That’s their business and nobody else’s. And if that charged something results in Ace stumbling down into Marco’s kitchen in the middle of the night only to scream at Thatch who’s in the tradition of making Marco breakfast after award shoes (started before Di-Angel and 'Marci’ ever got big), who then screams right back at him which draws both Sabo and Marco down to see what the goddamn noise is about. Well.
That’s also their business and nobody else’s. (yes Thatch even you, get the fuck out of my kitchen, goddamn-yoi)
that au where you share dreamscapes with your soulmate(s)
Marco lives to 22 never sharing his dreams. When he ate his fruit and his need for rest diminished to barely an hour a night he didn't think it would be a problem. He didn't have a soulmate, his dreams were a black void of restful nothing that feels like laying in a warm bed of feathers and didn't seem in a state to change when he was 14.
Then only a scant two months after his 22nd birthday, everything changes. He falls asleep knowing he'll be up and active again in two hours and instead of the dark, familiar nothing he gets...something else. Riots of sound and color, voices that make his ears bleed saying things he can't understand, sensation whirring in patterns he's never known before. A presence, confused and distant but resting all the same as Marco is, is there waiting for him.
When he wakes up, disoriented and disturbed, he tells Pops immediately. Pops' expression becomes thoughtfully grave and serious. He tells Marco to give it time. A few months, maybe things will become clearer.
They don't.
Instead, just a few weeks into the strange new routine, a second presence appears. The riot of color and sound and confusion only intensifies. Marco can barely sense anything through the cacophonous atmosphere, let alone where these two strangers might be in relation to himself in it all. Their collective overstimulating dreamscape leaves Marco shaken and tired upon waking.
Pops eventually gives him the nudge. If he can't reach them, then he must allow them to come to him. He must assert his will the way he had previously-create his restful, warm, feathery nothing once again and wait them out.
It takes years.
And then, all at once, he can see-hear-perceive them--and he wishes he didn't.
They're children. Literal boys, barely 5 years old, and they look as confused and lost as he feels when they finally stumble upon him in the dream. His corner of their shared nighttime rest molded itself to fit into their world, unintrusive and folded into the side of a hill that they probably see every day in their waking homes.
The dark haired boy is wary. The blonde is braver almost to spite his obvious nerves.
"Who are you? How did you get here?"
Marco barely shifts from the place he rests, the warm feathery dark he's always been in. "I should be asking that question-yoi. I was here first, well before either of you."
"...yoi?" The dark haired boy says, mostly to himself.
The blonde boy shoves him, a small pipe appearing in his hand. "Well, I asked first! How did you get here!?"
Marco sighs. "The same way you did. I feel asleep, and came here."
The dark haired boy blinks. "So you're our soulmate too?"
The blonde balks, turning on the other. "There's no way! Nobody's ever had two soulmates before!"
"But he's right there! He wouldn't be here too if he wasn't, right??"
They argue back and forth, their voices shrill and rising and completely destroying any sense of tranquility that Marco managed to create in his little corner. He sighs and drapes an arm over his eyes to block out the light from the rest of their space leaking into his.
"You're both very loud-yoi. Isn't the point of a dream to help you rest? Make sure you're ready for the next day? You're not doing a very good job of that." He points out.
The arguing stops. The blonde boy's voice rises again. "What do you know? You're some old geezer!"
And that pisses him off enough that he sits up, ready to actually yell, when--
He wakes up in his dark, quiet room on the Moby Dick with a loud and rude word caught in his throat.
shoutout to raccooon for part of this
When the day comes that Sabo tries to flee to the sea early, Ace rushes himself to bed before the dusk has settled. Luffy curls around him, still weeping even in slumber, and Ace fights to fall asleep.
Ace is angry and confused. Sabo is hurting and confused. Marco's just confused in general.
How do you describe being free? To people who have never thought they could be?
The shared dream changes after that.
