#he was glowing dude /pos

[codecicle]

btw did saturday come early because charlie was ABSOLUTELY wearing eyeliner when he turned the camera on like i didn't just hallucinate that one right

[masochistikitty]

god i fucking love. this one oc. hes an ancient forest spirit whos fed up with all the supernatural chaos being enacted upon the non magical world, so hes working against the othet supernatural creatures. however, when the humans (the main characters) get upset at him he turns into this petty bitch like "well no, you left so until you rejoin me im gonna be like them. its not like anyone can even find the town right now" like omgggg hes so self motivated <333 when he was human he probably had a crazy addiction to something idk what (probably alc tbh)

[mblue-art]

Sorry for that question but I really curious!

What made you fell in love with Cross and Lust?

Tell us more!!

😳😳😳 hhuh what rreally,, , ,,, 😳 u wanna hear me yap abt my sillies, my beloveds,,, (i appreciate the enthusiasm tho omg 🥺🫶🫶🫶)

i want to have the yuris with lust and the yaois with cross I I MEAN HWHWAT 🧍‍♂️

UM.

haha anyWAY,, (oh gog this ended up long)

🍫—

cross checks so many boxes for me it makes me go insane. too good to be true. versatile(??)— like it's somehow way too easy to put him in Situations. (he's bf and husbone material??? just -20hp me now; that already kills me) he's. hh. gawddamn there's reasons why he won a utmv sans sexyman poll.

he's like a crush that you can't get out of your head no matter what you do, i'm so freaking down bad for him it's not even funny anymore. ever since simping for cross i have not been the same since. the man has changed me. the attraction/simp feelings hit me like a bat out of nowhere and i don't understand why it's so intense— i. hh.

,,i like when ppl make him dorky. stupidly silly (absolutely love shitpost shenanigans and would absolutely LOVE to get into silly shenanigans with him and with/without his bestie epic). fun to be around when he's deemed you as a good friend. stars, he'd give good hugs. strong, solid, and warm, the kind of hugs u don't wanna pull away from so soon. a little endearingly cringe. fanon simp cross is adorable and fun to mess around with. tsundere cross is adorable and fun to mess with. cute anxious guy under all that intimidating aloofness. when i say his smile is an absolute treasure, i mean that. his blush making him look like a grape or a glowing bulb is adorable and makes me wanna tease him more. anime protag/character vibes so strong i wanna have a cute bl/shoujo manga romance with him type shit yk.

then there's times when he's The Hot Dude and i think it's illegal if he's all confident and smug and dom actually (/hj) cause that makes me wanna fucking fite him HELLO? SIR? ILLEGAL????? (<- the fight or flight response of a tsundere towards a milder tsundere LOL).

-hp every single time. mf gets successful d20 rolls w/ rizz on me and i get a critical hit every time. it's a 50/50 either i fluster to death and become weak or i wanna fite his dumbass

i'll. i can fight him. i'll lose but i can fight him for sure. (why is he so cool⁉️‼️💢💢💢RRRRRRR)

he makes me feel things. lots of things. (mostly fluster but when i'm feelin sooper soff i jst wanna shower his skull in keeses. ima kissy lil guy)

tired cross makes me just wanna take care of him. want him to come home to me without any worry because he thinks i'm his safe space.

when he's being stubborn i want to tell him to chill out for a little while, take a break and watch some funny stuff while drinking choccy milk or eating his fav foods and be cozy. bapping him if he's gonna try to get out of this too soon. he's gonna get the free time he deserves n relax n get cuddles n kithes.

the way he can gently hold my hand and look at me with a sincere look in his eyelights and say something genuinely affectionate feels like cupid shooting an arrow through my soul, but also feels like a balm. (a promise of loyalty and faithfulness.) (a kiss on the forehead? a cherry on top.)

well now i can't be mean to him with all the nice he's saying and doing. i just want nice things for him o(-< (even if he's a bastard sometimes lol<3 all circles back to the silly) (silly is always important)

💜—

i love lust. so so so much. the fanon interpretation of him, anyway.

(don't get me wrong, i absolutely adore the feminine slay content of lust; but am i wrong for yearning for more masc lust content?)

i like my lust sans respectful, goofy, sans-like, an absolute sweetheart, and a caring, wonderful life partner. under the flirty personality and charm(ing looks), is a sans behavior that made me fall deeper. (he makes me feel very gender too) (ohmygofd yeah no he actually makes me think of gender sometimes rauauagrrgh<3/pos). i don't have to worry about showing my cring, weird side to him, because he's also a gremlin,, o(-< he doesn't have to present himself all nice and pretty all the time (although he's always pretty in my eyes). he can be comfortably himself; with me 🥺

i want to be his safe space.

i want to see him heal and be happy and be happy with me and give him all the love i can give and care for him and make him soso happy i just want him to feel SO sosososo loved, he deserves so much more

he's the only one who's able to get a certain reaction out of me; to pull flowers out of my heart. to pull out words of love and devotion and appreciation, heart bursting with affection only for him.

for him, i would try. i would live for him. i wish someone like him (the him i've created from interpretations and headcanons) was real irl.

i want to not care i don't care if he's a gorgeous well-known person that people fawn over, or if he's a campus crush, etc.,

i want him to think i'm worthy enough to keep in his life. for him to know how special he is to me, for him to know how much i want him in my life as much as i want him to keep me in his.

my immediate reaction when i think of him is: 😊💕💜💜💜eeeee kicks and giggles and flaps hands teehee

i love him so much i get a heart-on for him (/silly but it is true sometimes; love him so much it aches (in a good way))

[inpursuitofnunchi]

Observations after enies lobby:

There are scary marines out there - Aokiji and that rust dude gave me the chills

Merry my little baby i will miss you

I hate that pos SANDAM - loved the way Robin ended him - FKN YES - he had it coming

The whole fight between the giraffe and the wolf dude - superior comedy 🙉🙉🙉

Omg Coby's glow up???? HELLO?????

Sir sanji cooking up a fire serve at the party - mmm yes please

And Zoro just drinking down gallops of alcohol with the other two coconuts from the galley-la company 😭😭🥹🥹🥹🫰🏼🫰🏼🫰🏼

I cannot wait to see what adventures await the crew but I'm 100% invested. What a crew, what a story, what an adventure!!

👒👒👒👒👒

[isjasz]

ok but like you know how everyone always says that grian was the sun? what if he wasn’t? what if scar was the sun, shining his light and giving it to grian without asking for anything in return? what if grian was the moon, with a beautiful glow yes, but only a reflection of those who shined brighter, burning so that he can glow free of the taxing cost of being the sun? what if scar was the sun and grain was the moon, and scar gave his light, knowing the his light was the result of him burning away, so that grian could shine for him, so that he could see him shine, so that he could be the one that others look to for comfort and be the warmth?

hope this made sense cuz it’s been plaguing me for MONTHS

THAT ALSO WORKS YEAH DUDE IDK IT WORKS BTOH WAYS. HTAKWKLEWJKJ I LOVE THIS TAKE SM THO HES THE MOON. SCAR GAVE HIS LIGHT HEAD INAHDSN

YEAH IT DOES MAKING SENSE GODDAMMIT /POS

[stealingyourbones]

Hello, first I would like to greatly apologize for any spam of likes I have sent your way because my brain decided to obsess randomly with Dp x Dc crossovers for the past few days. I'm not even into Dc comics, and I only watch Danny Phantom when I randomly it exists and the fandom pulls me back into its clutches until I'm able to finally escape only to be pulled back in a few months later. I write this to you at 1:30 am with a bag of shittily made popcorn with my cat accompanying me because my mind has decided to fall in love with Danny being taken care of by the Bat family and it's mostly you're fault. I hope you're happy. I want to kiss you so bad you have no idea. I've come up with so many scenarios and have the balls to share them with you cause I really like the way you write and since I'm not a writer I have no idea what I'm doing but here I go:

Danny and Dani are basically travelling the world, Danny would call it running from the cops but that doesn't have as nice a ring to it. (Situation can be up to you, bad reaction from parents, was framed, anything for Danny and Dani on the run with Danny having protective older brother vibes)

They end up in Gotham for a few nights to rest easily and its snowing cause I said so and theyre starving at this point. Danny's like "We need to hide and need shelter" and Dani's like "Dude look over there at that creepy mansion :D" And they have no idea that its not only very much inhabited, but a bunch of rich people live there (And the Bat family but who cares about that part)

Danny is obviously on the fence cause 1. He doesn't have a good history with rich people so why their houses and 2. They dont know whats in there what if a bunch of weirdos are staying there but they decide they're cold and need a place to rest so they fly in and luckily land in the kitchen.

The lights are off and they're to focused on finding food to notice two figures standing in the middle of the kitchen just watching them.

Dani pulls out a box of the shittiest cereal you can think that shouldn't be counted as cereal all happy "Danny, they have my favorite cereal!" And poor Danny's horrified, "Have you even ever had cereal before?"

They start rambling and then someone turns on the light its Alfred he was in the middle of boiling midnight tea for him and Tim.

And there's just 2 GLOWING awkward teens FLOATING, one's holding Bruce's 'cereal' clearly not assesing the situation and the other has a horrified expression on their face, and looks like on the verge of passing out.

Tim is way to sleep deprived thinking they're hallucinations and sits down, also on the verge of passing out, while Alfred just keeps boiling his tea.

Danny is sweating trying to figure out how hes gonna get them out if this situation and Danis just, munching on dry crappy cereal.

Albert like the God he is just fucking opens the fridge, looks Dani in the eye and asks "Would you like some milk with that, my lady?" And thats all I got out of me FOR THAT SCENARIO.

The other is I fucking forgot I took 30 mins to write all this I forgot what else I had Im so sleep deprived OH FUCK I REMEMBER IT WAS ABOUT DRUGS

Ok so tw for drugs (weed):

Ok so Danny's a teen he's stupid right, knowing him in the show he'd be the kid to decline drugs but then take a hit when his crush says "i KnEw YoU wEreNt coOl" yknow? Delicious social pressure.

Well he's like pretty much adopted by the Wayne's at this point so he's just chilling on the couch about to light a joint and Jason being the noble man he is snatches it out of Danny's hand like "Nono, bad small child dont do drugs" half joking and smokes it instead.

Danny's now panicking, silently following Jason to make sure he's alright and not dead or reacting badly to it.

"Yeah why wouldn't I be fine?" And the high kicks in.

The thing is is that it was ghost weed. And Jason for once feels completely calm, he doesn't feel a single bit of the pit its silent.

He's crying and Danny's like "Omg are you ok???" Thinking he poisoned his family/lover/whatever the fuck they are.

And Jason's just "This is some real good shit" silently sobbing, not even thinking about where Danny got it or why its doing this he's just happy.

And you can turn this into extreme angst by making him codependent or a comedy by him making high jokes

Ok thats it again I'm so sorry I just really had to tell someone this

Homie you, me, behind the Bat Burger; We shall marry at dawn. Man, it makes me so happy that you enjoy the stuff I write that much I’m really proud that I could bring you that much joy! Be sure to give your kitty some pets for me :).

Oh also, “not a writer”?! You spin a web of lies. This is incredible!! Sure it’s rambly, but that’s because you’re writing in a way that’s unsure of yourself. (It’s also very much so how I write so I feel you homie.) I still feel like my writing is equivalent to a middle schooler's but I do my best to shake that off. I don’t write fics because I’m bad at dialogue, I’m workin on it though! You simply just have to try and believe in yourself. You’ll reread it later and go, “Damn, did I just write that?!” And feel proud of what you accomplished. You absolutely have unique and brilliant ideas so take a shot at writing some stuff! I’m sure you’ll do great! :D

Also bro your: "what was I talking about? oH YEAH DRUGS!" was so unexpected. it made me laugh so hard so thank you for that :)

———

Danny and Dani are fucking floored that this stoic-ass old British man just rolled with seeing the two. Dani's eyes light up as she accepts the milk from the British guy. Snatching the fancy glass milk container, she haphazardly pours the milk into her bowl causing bits of cereal to ricochet the milk out of the bowl and flying absolutely everywhere.

Tim just stands still and stares at the two very much so Not Human entities that are currently in his house. The tired vigilante rummages around in his pocket for his phone and takes a quick photo of the scene in front of him.

Tim double takes glancing between the kitchen and his phone. At first he assumed they were hallucinations because no figures were present in the photograph… the floating bowl of cereal and spoon says otherwise.

[agentplutonium]

Percy Jackson and the Olympians Live Blog: watch this PNO book obsessed nerd watch ep three of Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Spoilers under the cut. You’ve been warned.

- FUCKING GABE BEING THE ORACLE THATS SO FUNNY

- “and a bag of these things. I think they’re canadian. or from Chucky cheese, I don’t know” PLEASE WHY DID THAT TAKE ME OUTTT

- THE SHOES!! GOD THEYRE SO PRETTY (and so is Luke, but we don’t dwell on that because that’s the point and i have read the books i know where this goes)

- oh god we’re talking about Thalia i’m gonna cry

- ANNABETH!! ANNABETH MY BELOVED!!

- “And you. Are not. Thalia.” YOU TELL HIM GIRL

- THE BUS OH GOD

- “Forbidden Child” is such a metal sentence actually

- Leah is killing it in this role i’m so in love with her acting she’s such an amazing Annabeth

- UGH SHOWING ANNABETHS CHILD SIDE THIS IS SO!!!

- NO ANNABETH FET OUT OF THERE

- “They smell fear.” “That’s bees 🙄” I LOVE THEM

- oh god it’s dodds

- OH GOD SHES BARGAINING FOR PERCY

- HER SISTERS ARE HERE

- well that was disappointing/lh

- this forest is so pretty wait-

- “we don’t need help. we’re fine.” i love her

- “why are you so afraid of who you are?” “what?” DUDE

- THE UNCLE COMMENT. FORESHADOWING. SIR. SIR. i can’t take this

- “Excuse me?” GIRL. LEAH’S ACTING. TOP NOCH.

- “First? What do you mean “first”?” uh oh

- “hamburgers” man we are FLYING through this plot

- “not today, friends, not on my doorstep.” oh god. why is medusa hot. this is unfair.

- “i think we can trust her” white boy is at it again /j

- “we’re not our parents, after all.” oooo tie in to percabeth ???

- “So you’re not a monster, then.” “A survivor.” OOH. SO THIS IS HOW WE’RE PLAYING IT /POS

- “Do you know the story of how I became to be this way?” “I do!” “Do you?” Medusa love you’re gonna make me fall head over heels.

- Are we using Medusa as a metaphor for the reforged bond between Athena/Poseidon with Percabeth

- “My mother is Just. Always.” Girl idk how to tell you this-

- “She’s going to betray you. Sooner or later, people like her, always do.” GIRL YOU BETER STFU-

- BRINGING HIS MOM INTO THIS?? MAAM. MAAM DONT MAKE ME CHANGE MY OPINION IF YOU.

- FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

- GROVER WEARING THE SHOES OH GOD-

- OOO THIS IS AN INTERESTING ROOM

- PFF GROVER FLYING AWAY

- she’s still so pretty, i said what i said-

- PERCY THE GLOW OF THE SWORD

- GEOVER

- the hat on the head that’s p cool

- PLEASE THE TENSION

- ooo that’s smart

- NO NOT THE UNCLE THIS IS SADDER THAN THE BOOKS

- “He doesn’t look afraid.” *DISTANT SOBBING*

- grover speak your truth bb !! god i love him

- “Because the Oracle said one of you would betray me!” NOO PERCY

- “I’m feeling so alone! I don’t know what to think or who to trust.” *MORE DISTANT SOBBING*

- “They will see this as impertinent” “i am impertinent” PLEASE

- GIVING THE HAT BACK AHHHH *cries*

- PERCY SINGING THE SONG PLEASE

- LIN MANUEL MIRANDA :O

- “you guys are not gonna believe this-“ HAH

- fuck the preview makes the next ep look so good i’m so excited

OKAY THATS THE END IF THIS EPISODE guys i’m so in love with this show you don’t understand. i’m so. the autism is coming out. pray for me.

[lyxvija]

heard you wanna ramble about our bug bf huh? GO AHEAD!! make it angsty.... here's my suggestion HUEHEUEHUE im feeling evil.

s/o sees him getting touchy with the twins, its just his nature, but they're jealous, they try to get at him, fail miserably. and when they confront each other He's already in a pissy mood after a long day of work, maybe he yells at them, maybe tries to dismiss them, they're not communicating, throwing accusations at each other.

OR MAYBE! he's gone too long and been too busy at work and can't spend much time with his s/o and so they try to discuss it with him but he's too tired and grumpy to hear it.

OR EVEN THIS!!! The twins or someone get into his head, telling him that s/o only wnats him for his money

I CAN THINK OF SO MUCH SJDJDJEJRJRJR

or maybe even get a lil

freaky

iykwim 👀

ramble to us pookie wookie 🤭🫶🏻 /pos /gen /friendly

i think ill go with being the 🪐 anon just future reference 🫶🏻

Okay powerful magic spaceball floating in the universe Anon...

HEAR ME OUT. I already had a similar scenario like that in mind one month ago and PLANNED to write a one-shot about something like that! >: D If it's okay, I´d like to do that one now. <3You get:

Mammon x Gen! Neutral Reader TAGS: Cheating, kinda break-up, ANGST

Mam and Reader have a fight, Mammon makes a horrible mistake and now has to pay the price.

Edit: I went overboard...accidentally wrote half of a one-shot. XD

So this is part one.. hahahahah

Mammon and you were a thing now. Well, for quite some time. You were overjoyed when the King of Greed seemed to get interested in you. It wasn't easy, not gonna lie, but you two managed. Mammon wasn't the easiest to be around, but somehow, you still loved him regardless. Despite what your friends told you, it felt genuine. Like he really meant it and didn't see you as some kind of arm candy or pet to keep just for fun. Your heart told you that, so you simply ignored everyone's remarks.

Mammon was extremely jealous and possessive. There was hardly any moment when you interacted with somebody else, where he didn't feel the need to step in and show the other that you were his. At home (well his home since the mighty king would never spend any second in your shitty apartment so he just took you with him) he often made nasty remarks of how dude A surely had the hots for you or that gal B was just after you to get closer to him. It was absolutely ridiculous! Every time you told him that this was not true, that you only have eyes for him, even if somebody else WOULD have a crush on you. In some way you even felt flattered that a Deadly Sin would be so protective over an unimportant hellborn like you.

But GOSH, one day he even went wild because you talked to the Glam sister. For real?! Yes, Glitz had been frisky, but hell! They are flirty and cocky with everyone! No matter how much you tried to ensure him that you DID NOT have a thing for them and that they were in no way any danger to you and him, Mammon´s jealousy and anger never seemed to fade.

"Yeah? If ya really aint fallin for their jiggly boobs, why did you smile at them and oh bring them some fucking coffee?! And by the way, I SAW HOW YOU LOOKED AT GLAM´S FAT ASS!!"

You stared at him for a second. "Excuse me??"

"YEAH DUH! I KNOW WHAT I SAW AND DONT LIE TO ME, CAUSE I KNOW YOU ENJOYED IT!"

Again, you stared at him in disbelief. "Wtf? First, I smile at them because I am just being nice to them! Second, where the hell am I supposed to look when they ask me which of their butts are bigger? And third-"

"THEY FUCKING ASKED WHAT?!" Mammon screamed in his demonic voice, steam pouring out of his mouth with every breath. He pinned you against the wall. Eight eyes of glowing green bore down onto you.

You should have been afraid, but couldn't help to feel another thing:

You felt offended.

Baring your in comparison way smaller teeth, you hissed at him. "For hell´s sake! Get your shit together Mammon! Fuking belive me when I tell you that nothing happened!" Your sudden outburst seemed to have startled him. Never had you snapped at him like that.

"Why would you even believe I would do such a thing?! Don't you trust me??"

The big Jester fumbled with his words, but managed to grumble under his breath: "How the fuck am I supposed to know.. I mean-"

"How are you supposed to know? Are you serious?? Gosh! Because I tell you every god damn day! Maybe that´s how!"

Now he just stood there, clenching his fists and facing the floor. His expression sour. "I jus´ don't like sharing you with others... okay?"

Your posture softens and you put your hand on one of his lower arms.

"It´s okay. I know you have difficulties with that, Babe. I am sure we can work this out. Okay?" <3

He was quiet for a few seconds but then answered: "Yeah...but could you please talk less to them? You know... it is making me angry."

You inhaled and held your breath, trying to hold back your frustration. It was obvious it wouldn't be easy with him, but you honestly would expect a bit more from an immortal entity than acting like a damn man-child. A Mam-child. Oh dear...

"No, sorry can not do. I work with them. I have to at least talk to them. Besides, you have to learn to trust me. You can't force me to keep away from people only because you want me to. This is not how it works!"

Mammon huffed, gripped your shoulders and drew your face close to his. "Listen, you little brat, I am really trying here! So cut me some slack and get your cute little ass off and away from them." His voice was low and threatening. This was in no way a suggestion. This was a demand.

"No." you said firmly and looked him deep in the eyes.

"No?" he repeated. Sparks danced around his features. Mammon tried to intimidate you just like he did with all of his employees and servants. But you were no servant. While the tone and his looming presence made your heart race and your knees weak, you still refused to give it. While it was true that you were just a measly hellborn in comparison to a mighty entity like him, but last time you checked you were his lover. His little gold nugget.

"I said no! You cannot tell me what to do and who to stay away from...just like I could never tell you to stay off the Glam sisters. I saw how they try to get in the sheets with you! But do I make a fuss about it? No!"

Mammon started to laugh. "Ya think I can´t tell you what to do? Pleeeaaase. I am your boss AND your king! If I tell you to get me some coffee, you bring me some coffee, If I tell you to hold my golden staff while I take a shit, you better do so and if I tell you to not get anywhere near those slutty cunts, you better do!"

He painfully clenched your cheeks between his thumb and index finger. You stared at him wide-eyed, trying to pry his hand off you.

"Did I make myself clear or do I have to repeat?"

It was the first time you had ever felt afraid of him. With his smirk twisted into a sadistic grin and his green glowing eyes staring down at you, there was no trace of your sweet boyfriend. The intensity of his glare was too much for you to handle

With panic growing inside your chest, you yelled at him. "Let me go! NOW!"

"As you wish." Mammon released you at once, making you fall down to the floor.

You rubbed your behind and looked up at him. Tears started to well in your eyes. His words and the way he treated you, shocked you.

Mammon huffed offended and frowned. "Tsk! Come on! Now that didn't hurt."

"You... You can't treat me like this! You are my boyfriend, remember? You can´t treat me like some sort of...like.." you stuttered, holding back your tears. What hurt the most the disinterested look he gave you. How he dismissed your feelings. Somehow it scared you even more that he didn't even give a shit of the effect he had on you right now.

"Now listen here, cunt! I can do whatever I want and with whoever I want! What do you think? That you have some kind of power over me? is that what you´re thinking? Is that what gets you off?? Hah! is that why you spend your fucking breaks with these other vermin instead of coming to my office? Oh yeah! You must feel so fucking powerful making ol´ Mammon pissed-"

"THAT IS NOT TRUE! THAT IS NOT TRUE!" You shouted, tears still streaming down your cheeks. You were disturbed of the absolute paranoia, the things he told himself, the way he thought about you. It was like someone put a knife in your heart and stirred it.

"LIKE I GIVE A BLOODY SHIT OF WHAT YOU THINK!! YOU THINK YOU CAN DO ANYTHING NOW, DONTCHA?! THAT YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME? THAT YOU CAN DO WITH ME WHATEVER YA WANT JUST BECAUSE WE SHARE A BED AND YOU SUCK MY DICK?? BUT GUESS WHAT! I CAN DO WHAT I WANT AND YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT SHOULD BE GRATEFUL FOR WHAT YOU GOT!!"

Your heart almost stopped hearing insult after insult. He was out of his mind. You couldn't even comprehend what he was saying. What is happening here?! How did things escalate so quickly??

"Okay... I am going home.. and you.. you.. calm down." You tried so hard to sound steady but failed miserably. Your sobbing kept on interrupting. "W-We talk.. tomorrow."

With that, you turned around and left. You didn't even try to hide your pathetic crying.

[meksters]

So...about the boys in Wednesday...Let's be honest they aren't that great. But i kinda think that's the point. Obviously, spoilers ahead.

Disclaimer: I was not in this fandom before yesterday so I love Enid but i don't ship her with Wednesday. Completely fair if you do but personally i don't dig that dynamic for a romantic pairing and i think Enid is too good for Wednesday 😭 I really thought we'd have more Bianca x Wednesday but alas

Now the "Love Triangle", was it is even one?

Let me start with Xavier. Besides the tortured artist boy being a least favorite trope of mine (ironic considering i am this trope) he just didn't have much depth. He doesn't get along with his dad, he's rich, popular, into Wednesday. What else? He's obsessed with Wednesday. Like i know he can't help seeing her in his dreams but the way he goes about his interest in her is icky and not in the fun way. Xavier is Bianca's ex bf (side note: can we get more Bianca love pls?) And broke up with her bc he felt she was hypnotizing him. Which is ironic considering he asks her to make him forget about Wed. Glad the show touched on how not cool that was.

Other than him just not really having much depth, he is also the "love interest" and i use the term loosely that Wednesday is the least interested in. She only ever entertains either boy when she has an ulterior motive (which y'know girl slay gas keep), but Xavier really never had a shot and I hope the end scene was more them becoming friends than anything bc imo they had negative chemistry. Wednesday doesn't care about Xavier's feelings. She doesn't care about his warnings. He is just of no importance to her until he seems like the killer. I really hope they give Xavier a glow up and keep them as just friends, we need more m&f friendships that don't turn romantic.

One to the other (more successful) love interest. Tyler.

Now i didn't put love interest in quotes this time bc he actually got a kiss. Lemme make this clear, Wednesday would have never gone along with Thing's shenanigans if she was interested in Tyler. She would have never gone on the date or kissed him if she didn't want to. Of the two dudes, Tyler is imo the only real love interest of s1. Xavier is just some guy who likes her. Tyler may or may not have been into Wednesday but she was into him. If you disagree with any of this that's fair but i think we watched different shows idk. Wednesday was definitely into Tyler in the end, but was he into her? Was any of it genuine or was it all an act? Idk for Wednesday Addams, i think a manipulative monster is probably her dream guy just saying

With that established, I need to admit that Tyler is my preferred love interest. Now lemme explain before you run away, Tyler is a manipulative POS but that's exactly why he's great for Wednesday. She's an Addams, they are a family full of manipulators, criminals, and altogether twisted people. Yet at the same time they're lovable and loyal to each other. Wednesday canonically tortures her brother, she's not called toxic for no reason, she's the most malicious Addams we know. Even Fester is mostly just a goof, a murderous goof but still. With the caveat of Tyler getting a redemption arc in next season, i can totally see the show overlooking his murders bc we still don't really know what being a Hyde entails and like i said, the Addams don't seem to care if you killed or kill people, just don't wear pastels. And honestly it's a bad look to just cast aside the traumatized, abused, and neglected kid as evil and leave it at that. With our protagonist being who she is, i hope the writers give Tyler some more screentime bc i can really see him being a great rival/frenemy to Wednesday and personally i think if she does get a romance, enemies to lovers is probably the best trope for her.

If you made it this far, damn sorry you did that to yourself. If you're a wenclair girlie, I'm rooting for you but it's just not my cup of tea tho I'd love to be proven wrong in subsequent seasons

[sins-of-the-sea]

//Almost tempted to bring back the Master's old human disguise, if at least to show what he used to look like. I still prefer the vaguely humanoid form in a Levantine shawl and robe, though.

This was his old artwork back in the early-mid 2000s.

That last image should be able to tell you who was the direct inspiration for the Master at the time (Naraku from Inuyasha).

As much as it’d be fun to bring back the old design, here are my biggest reasons otherwise I am NOT doing so:

1.) I REALLY REALLY got sick of the “beautiful sexy villain” trope. It doesn’t matter if the Master is ACTUALLY trying to be beautiful and seductive, he is still a horrible POS who should induce the feelings of dread, hate, and disgust, not sexual attraction and arousal. Especially because the Master is my vehicle for expressing my struggle with overcoming trauma from manipulation and abuse. Being a gaslighty manipulator who are intrusive thoughts incarnate should NEVER be seen as sexy.

2.) The short jokes got old fast. Also, short villains CAN be intimidating and scary. It just has to be presented in a way that works. Short jokes won’t help. Not that it matters because the current design for the Master changes with every appearance he makes. He can be tall, short, fat, skinny, etc., as much as he wants.

3.) There are unfavorable narrative implications in writing the Master looking ethnically indigenous of the Philippine Islands, even though one of the writers is also Filipino and some of the hero characters are Filipino. It mostly lies in the fact that the main story kicks off due to events involving Spanish colonization of the Philippines. Having the Master be ethnically Filipino as his “main disguise” feels gross. I’d rather make him ethnically ambiguous and, again, deliberately be inconsistent with how I depict him in every appearance he makes.

4.) Giving him an actual face humanizes him more. Simple as that. He’s a hate sink and a despicable monster. Nothing about him is redeemable. Entertaining and fun to write for/hate on, but not redeemable.

I COULD give him the ‘Miguel Aguinaldo’ disguise as just that: a disguise. Maybe I can design more to remove the implications of Problem #3. But really, that’s way too much work for me in a story as huge and dense as Devil’s Eye. And drawing some dude with a single glowing eye in a shawl is significantly the least amount of a headache he gives me. THAT is already a disguise. We don’t know WHAT the Master actually is. And we SHOULDN’T.

[yamahex]

Explicit

Summary: Some backstory + Urban shows Jack your profile

Pairing: Jack x CAM GIRL Reader

Content Warning: 17+ Sexual themes and Smut

A/N: Welcome everyone to part 1 of Explicit!! So excited to start this series, this part is mainly buildup. DISCLAIMER this whole series will contain 17+ smut and sexual themes

You first started being a cam girl your sophomore year in college after finding yourself in some financial trouble. It wasn’t your dream job but it did rake in good money, which helped you afford schooling and your apartment. The positive attention was a bonus, so much so that you started a OnlyFans to double the income and a PO Box so your customers could send gifts.

The downside to the job was having to hide your identity. It made regular day to day tasks difficult, having to constantly look over your shoulder in fear of someone recognizing you in public somehow. So you took extra steps to make sure you were safe. Like censoring your face in videos and pictures, and making sure the camera never showed your face during live shows.

Dating wasn’t really a option with your career, there was just too many risks. You couldn’t bring people back to your apartment since your bedroom was your iconic set for filming and it was hard to trust that the person wasn’t some creepy fan on the low.

The main reason you kept your identity a secret was your school. Sure you were a adult but the college you attended frowned upon students publicly engaging in sexual activity. And if proof of such activity was found you would be expelled and that was a risk you couldn’t take. Your school was one of the most elite in ATL and not cheap. You put in too much hard work and money to get expelled.

Money and attention aside your lifestyle was lonely, the only person in your life who knew about this was your best friend. They were your rock, the person you vented to, cried to, if you didn’t have them you probably would be lost.

But the loneliness was overlooked when you felt the confidence your viewers gave you. Something about doing your live shows made you ooze confidence.

Present Time

“It’s so good to see you all again.” Your hand ran over your chest covered in your white lacy bra that was gifted from one of your customers. The soft glow from your pink LEDs shined throughout the dark room. Your eyes read the comments from the stream, making you giggle.

“You all seem so eager tonight. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Dude I’m telling you she’s unlike any girl I’ve ever seen.” Urban followed Jack around their apartment.

“How would you know, she doesn’t even show her face?”

“But her body bro, you can tell she’s fine as fuck.” Jack scoffed and stared at him.

“You’re thirsty as hell.”

“You would be too if you see what I see.”

“I’m not big on porn, you know that.” Urban smacked his lips and pulled out his phone.

“Perfect she’s live right now. Look at this shit bro.” He turned his phone towards Jack as moans rang out from the device.

He rolled his eyes then watched the stream.

His eyes widened at the sight of you.

The camera was right over you, barely cutting off your nose. Your head was thrown back against your pillows in ecstasy as one of your hands roamed your body and the other thrusted a toy in and out of your folds.

Your moans were like music to his ears, absolutely leaving him turned on. Urban snickered.

“Not into porn, my ass.”

Jack looked up from the phone and pushed Urban.

“I can see what you mean tho, something about her is intriguing.”

“See I told you! She’s like a sexual goddess.” Jack looked at him with squinted eyes.

“God you need to get laid.”

Over the next few days Jack became a huge consumer of your content. Hardcore simp Jerking off to you almost every night. You were his addiction.

His body shuttered as he came onto his fist, both of your heavy breathing could be heard from the room. He looked at your chest rising and falling on his phone screen. A smirk was evident on your mouth which was the only part of your face the camera could see.

“Mm I wish I could be next to you right now.”

“Shit me too.” Urban busted into his room making Jack scramble to cover himself

“Look whose thirsty now.”

Eventually he had to get out off of the house, after Urban constantly roasting his ass, so he decided to go to a random coffee shop downtown .

You grabbed your drink off the counter and went to leave the shop when you ran into something hard, making you spill your drink. You looked up and were met with sunglasses and curly brown hair.

“Oh shit my bad.” He took off his glasses and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry I should have looked where I was going.” He snickered.

“Nah I’m the one who made you spill your coffee. Let me buy you another one.”

“No really you don’t have to-“

“I insist.” He walked up to the counter and ordered his drink then looked at you for your order. You told him hesitantly and he smiled. Something about him felt familiar.

He handed you your drink.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, I’m Jack.” It clicked in your head.

“Jack? Like Jack Harlow?” You whispered the last part to not draw attention. He snickered and nodded.

“I’m Y/N, thank you again for the drink. I was really craving that coffee.” He smiled.

“It’s no issue.” Something about you seemed familiar to him now. His eyes lingered on your frame. You had a great body and a beautiful face, he swore he’s seen you before. Part of him needed to explore you.

“Well I should be going-“

“I know this is a little forward but would you like to go out sometime?” Your eyes widened.

“Me??” He laughed.

“Yes you.”

“Sure I would love to.” He pulled out his phone.

“Can I get your number?” You nodded and he handed you his phone. You put your number in then handed it back to him.

“You can just text me whenever.” You mentally kicked yourself for sounding desperate. He nodded and licked his lips.

“Yeah for sure. I’ll see you around.”

To Be Continued…

[the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink]

Happy Accidents (Mikey Way x reader)

Summary: Despite having made sure they took care of themselves in the queue, the crowd gets a little too rough for (y/n) and things go downhill. Thankfully, someone up on the stage noticed... 

Word Count: 2632

Warnings: mild talk of blood and head injuries 

A/N: I’ve never passed out at a gig (I’m just that good) but if I did... I’d definitely want it to go something like this. 

(Clarifying note: even when I’m writing for the band in their current era, I’m writing them as being single. I adore their partners + families, and I don’t particularly wanna write cheating storylines or anything that paints them very negatively, ‘kay?) 

I’m a sucker for fics where the reader gets spotted in the crowd at a show okay? Sue me. 

Sixteen hours queueing outside the venue in torrential rain and three hours inside, adjusting to the feeling of being packed into an active crowd for the first time in forever, had led up to this moment. The lights were down, the static was echoing across the venue, and the feeling in (y/n)’s veins was electric. They had made it. 

One hand wrapped tightly around the top of the barrier, they alternated between babbling excitedly with the friends they’d made in the line and staring up at the equipment on stage, awestruck. 

“It doesn’t even feel real yet dude.” Fern’s messy orange hair was almost glowing in the venue light as they bounced up and down on the spot. “I’m gonna faint from excitement when they come on, I swear.” 

(y/n) nudged them, rolling their eyes. “Hey, don’t you dare. We put way too much effort into getting here to black out in the first song. Besides, that shouldn’t happen, because we’ve actually eaten and slept. Unlike half the people behind us.” 

Fern snorted, admiring the messily scrawled number eighteen on the back of their hand. “Yeah, how that lot up in the nineties are gonna make it is a mystery to me. I don’t think they moved all day. At least we made the effort to get pizza.” 

They opened their mouth to reply, but the house lights dimmed, and movement on the stage made their heart freeze. Their voices joined the screaming from the rest of the crowd as the band filed on, waving and getting themselves ready to begin. (y/n) was faintly aware of Fern grabbing their free hand and squeezing, both of them momentarily overwhelmed by the fact that their idols were right there. 

As Gerard took his position at the front of the stage, drawing roars from the crowd as they realised he was wearing a very short hospital gown spattered with fake blood, the people in the pit rushed forwards, crushing the front row against the barrier. The increase in pressure was unwelcome, but they soon adjusted to it. It was hardly a surprise that it had happened, after all. 

The band launched into The Foundations of Decay, and (y/n) grappled with their phone for a few moments, got a couple of pictures, and then tucked it away again. They wanted to be in the moment as much as possible - and there was so much to see. Ray’s incredible curls bouncing back and forth as he worked his guitar with lightning-fast moves. Frank nuzzling up against the microphone (which was turned up blissfully loud, and whoever had done so deserved the entire world on a plate). Gerard playing with the soundboard like a kid with a new toy on Christmas Day. Mikey rolling his eyes at every little thing his brother did and grinning at the handful of signs dispersed through the crowd. 

One song slipped into another over and over again, with the occasional break for Gerard to screw around with some voice effects or ramble about something unintelligible for a few minutes before carrying on like nothing had happened. (Y/n) felt like they were on top of the world. Despite the heat of the crowd and the way they were all crammed in like sardines, they were loving every second of the experience, and knew it wasn’t one they were going to forget in a hurry. And they were rather proud of themself, too - multiple people a few rows back had been pulled out of the crowd at various points because they’d fainted, whereas they felt perfectly healthy. Taking naps, eating when they got hungry and drinking plenty of water had set them up perfectly for an hour and forty minutes of intense singing and dancing. 

Of course, good things don’t always last forever. 

During Boy Division, something changed. There was a confused flurry of movement a few rows back from the barrier that (y/n) didn’t really register as a problem until the yellow-shirted security team started rushing in their direction. But they weren’t fast enough. They felt a heavy boot collide with the back of their head and very nearly bounced off the barrier as a crowdsurfer came over, flailing wildly. Security managed to get their arms around the man, but he was very tall and a little on the larger side - and they didn’t have a good enough grip. They dropped him. (y/n) felt a second impact, this time to the top of their head, as the man came crashing down against them. The security team finally pulled him over the other side of the barrier, but (y/n)’s vision was going grey and they could feel their legs shaking. As they dropped, losing sense of the world around them, they were vaguely aware of a familiar voice interrupting the song. 

“Stop, stop! Someone’s down!” 

And then there was nothing. 

***

The next thing (y/n) was fully aware of was the throbbing pain at the back of their skull. They sat up slowly, closing their eyes again as the bright bulb in the little room seared it’s light into their brain. From the sliver of the room they had managed to see, they had deduced that they were in the first aid area. The stacked supply boxes against the walls had mostly given it away, and the lumpy surface of the fold out cot they had been placed on made that assumption even clearer. As they tried to adjust to being conscious again, they became aware of low voices nearby. 

“So they’re gonna be okay?” 

“Yeah. They’ve got a pretty nasty scrape to the back of the head and the beginnings of a mild concussion, but things could have been a lot worse.” 

“That’s a relief. I saw them hit the barrier and just... I don’t know. It was pretty scary to watch.” 

Bored of being the subject of conversation without actually being involved, (y/n) managed a slight groan. “Was even scarier from my point of view, if you ask me.” 

They heard footsteps, and felt the bed sink a little next to them as someone sat down. “Hey, how are you feeling?” 

“Like I just had a grown man dropped on my head.” 

The newcomer snorted. “Yeah, I bet. Adam, you wanna come over here and check things out now they’re awake?” 

A second man - presumably Adam - joined them, settling on a wheeled stool on front of them. “Okay, I’m one of the medics here tonight. You took some nasty hits to the head back there, and you’ve been out about an hour. Can you tell me your name?” 

“(y/n), I’m (y/n). But... an hour? I missed the end of the show?” Their eyes flew open, face painted with dismay, and the man who’d sat down next to them put a hand on their shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry dude. The show ended forty five minutes ago, you missed the encore.” 

They groaned again. “Oh, I don’t believe it. What did I miss?” And they shifted to look at him properly - and made eye contact with none other than Mikey Way. “Oh, shit.” 

Mikey grinned sheepishly. “Hi there.” 

“You-” 

“Yeah.” 

“It was you who stopped the show! I remember hearing you...” 

Was the light playing tricks on them, or had his cheeks suddenly got very pink? 

“Yeah, I ran over and grabbed Gee’s mic, they were closest. I’d spotted you a few times earlier in the show, so it was lucky that I was watching at the right moment.” 

The conversation paused as Adam checked (y/n)’s pupils, apologising as they winced back against the light of the pen torch. “Okay, so you’ve got a slight concussion, but it’s nothing serious enough to need a hospital trip. How did you get here tonight?” 

(y/n) frowned. “I walked here. I only live a few miles away, and I was just gonna get a taxi home.” 

Mikey’s face fell. “All the roads round here are closed, it’s been chaos trying to get people out. Apparently there was some kind of protest going on and the police got involved?” 

“Oh, there was a football match tonight.” They rolled their eyes. “So that’s probably what’s happened. A load of drunk idiots have kicked off for no reason and screwed over everyone else. Great. Ow!” 

Adam apologised again as he examined the injury on the back of their head. “I cleaned this up while you were out and it doesn’t seem to have bled much more, which is a good sign. But I really wouldn’t recommend you walking home - or trying to get home by yourself. Is there someone who can come and get you?” 

“I live on my own, the rest of my family is a good fifteen miles away. And even if they were close, the road closures mean I’d have to walk to meet them anyway. So basically, I’m stuck. Wait - has the queue for tomorrow’s show started yet?” 

“Let me go and find out.” Mikey got up and left, reappearing ten minutes later with a bundle of fabric in his arms. “Yeah, there’s a bit of a line. Why, are you coming to this one as well?” 

(y/n) managed a laugh, wincing a little as the movement made their head throb. “Oh, I wish. This show sold out before I could even think about tickets. I was just thinking of sleeping out there, at least I won’t be on my own.” 

“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep outside the venue, are you kidding me?” 

“What? I got here in the early hours today and slept, I was fine. We had blankets and everything.” 

“Yeah, and now you’ve got a head injury, so I’m not gonna let that happen. Come with me.” 

Adam shrugged at them as if to say ‘don’t ask me what he’s up to’, and (y/n) nodded. Realistically, the choice between heading outside in the cold to nap on the uncomfortable pavement and staying with the very attractive bassist of their favourite band a little longer wasn’t a difficult one. “Okay.” 

They wobbled a little as they stood up for the first time, and Mikey moved to steady them. “You good?” 

“Yeah, just... getting used to being upright again. I’ll be fine if we go slowly.” 

“Okay.” 

And they walked together through the crew zones of the venue, making small talk and stopping every few minutes to make sure (y/n) didn’t get too dizzy. Mikey had revealed what had been played after they had been pulled from the crowd, and had received a playful smack in the arm for his troubles. 

“You played (favourite song) without me? That’s so rude.” 

“Oh dude that sucks, I’m sorry. I can promise to put it on the set for tomorrow, if that makes you feel any better.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t get tickets for tomorrow, remember? I could just stand outside the venue and imagine being on the barrier again, I guess.” 

He laughed, and they missed the little glint that flickered in his eyes as he did so. “I mean that’s one way of doing things. Just through here.”

The two of them stepped through the doorway and into the lobby of the attached hotel. As (y/n) stopped, frowning slightly, Mikey brushed his hand against theirs for the briefest of moments, leading them towards the front desk. 

“We’re all staying here for the next four nights with all the crew, and there’s some spare rooms, so...” 

“You got me a room? Oh Mikey, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Well, I couldn’t just let you sleep outside, could I?” And he talked to the receptionist for a moment before taking the room key and checking the number. “Come on. I managed to get you put in the last room on the floor the guys and I are staying on, so you’ll have some familiar faces to see tomorrow.” 

Blown away by his kindness to a literal stranger, (y/n) found themself glued to the floor for a moment, and he held out a hand. 

“Look, I know this is probably a lot to take in right now. I just wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let you leave here injured. I’d rather know you were tucked up safe for the night, okay? Besides...” This time, it definitely wasn’t a trick of the light - he was blushing. “I was watching you a lot tonight. You just looked like you were having the best time, and... that smile took my breath away.” 

By now, (y/n) was positive that their own cheeks were burning brightly, and they reached out to take his hand. “Good thing that I was smiling at you then, isn’t it?” 

The conversation returned to a slightly more casual tone as they made their way upstairs, but the atmosphere had definitely shifted. (y/n)’s heart felt like it was trying to beat it’s way out of their chest, and they were definitely a little disappointed when they reached the right room. It made them feel a little better to notice that Mikey looked like he was feeling the same way as he passed over the bundle he’d been holding. 

“Oh, I picked these up for you. Kinda eyeballed the size a bit, but if they don’t fit I can always switch them out.” It was three merch t-shirts, one of which being the Mikey Way mystery one. 

(y/n) grinned, folding them over their arm. “You were dead on with the size, well done. And thanks, you really didn’t have to.” 

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d got blood on your shirt when you got hurt, and figured you wouldn’t wanna keep wearing that if you had. Oh, and here’s the room key.” And he slipped something else into their hands with it. A guest pass dated for the next three shows. (y/n) felt their jaw drop. 

“Oh, Mikey, I... Seriously? This is for me too?” 

He nodded, smiling. “I felt bad that you’d missed out on us playing your favourite song because of some random guy. At least at the side of the stage you know you’ll be safe from morons.” 

“Oh, thank you!” They desperately wanted to hug him, but didn’t want to make him feel awkward and didn’t exactly know how best to ask. Mikey solved that problem by leaning in and initiating the hug himself - and as they stood there, wrapped in his arms, (y/n) could’ve sworn that they felt him kiss the top of their head. 

“Hey, it’s the least I could do. Oh, can I borrow your phone real quick?” When they passed it over, he tapped away for a few moments before giving it back. “If you need anything, or you start feeling ill, whatever, just text me, okay?” 

“You- you’ve given me your phone number?” This experience was getting more surreal by the minute. “Do you do this for every poor idiot who gets injured at a gig?” 

He shot them a wink. “Only the really special ones. Will I see you at breakfast?” 

He’d sounded a little nervous as he asked - almost like a teenager trying to ask their crush on a first date. And that thought almost made (y/n)’s heart explode. 

“Well, I don’t see why not.” In a moment of bravery, they got onto their tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Mikey.” 

He was now almost the same shade of red as the hotel carpet. 

“Goodnight, (y/n).” 

The two of them ducked into their respective hotel rooms, each closing the door behind them before doing a little happy dance, grinning widely. 

Maybe they had something to thank that crowdsurfer for after all. 

[spaceiis0daz]

obligatory forgotten land ramble post

GOD. mind if i ramble about kirby and the forgotten lands ending. because holY SHIT. i know i beat the game like in march when the game came out but that doesnt matter. in this essay i will

incoming ramble, plus obvious katfl spoilers lol

.

.

now let me just say, i came into this game thinking that maybe the ending would be less insane, yknow, cause new game, new beginning n stuff, may wanna take it easy a little, NOPE. not at ALL WHAT HAPPENS. and honestly? i am sO glad they took this route dude.

during the lab discovera elevator scene i was literally trembling, just.. i KNEW this id-f86 creature was gonna be some horrific eldrich abomination we were gonna have to fight and i was TERRIFIED. like, the genuine terror they created in this scene is fucking immaculate. and the jaunty happy little elevator remix of the main theme just adds to it, just makes the scene all the more unsettling, and i fucking loved every last second of it.

then when i walk into the ominous glowing door i am greeted with THIS son of a bitch:

this thing struck genuine fear into my heart and what made this even SCARIER for me was because I didn't see that elfilin was safely locked away in another container right next to forgo, so i thought this thing was a horribly mutated fucked up elfilin. yeah

honestly i kind of wondered what it would be like if that were the case, because the idea of the cute happy little big eared creature you've spent most of your adventure with being mutated into this fetus-like abomination would have been absolutely HORRIFYING.

oh yeah, and about that! WHY DID HAL PUT A LITERAL FETUS IN THEIR GAME HOLY SHIT

honestly ive found fetus imagery in a horror context is just. YES. so good. i LOVE kirby's horror side just as much as the cute cuddly happy side, best of both worlds, but i digress

side note: unpopular opinion but leon's battle theme actually SLAPS its seriously underrated and for what

anyways back on track, i LOVE the emotion leongar's voice actor put into his voice clips, like he genuinely sounds like hes in EXTREME amounts of pain with his attacks, especially in the first phase, and. AUGHGHGH THIS GAME /POS

oh yeah. none of this fucking COMPARES to the cutscene after all this. and just. the fact that forgo is so angry with you it doesnt even care about its plan anymore. it just wants to kill kirby at that point. so it talks THROUGH LEONS BODY (i headcanon this wasn't even leongar's voice, it was just flat out forgo's voice) and just. the way forgo talks is also terrifying like. holy fuck

and the DETAIL they put into its eyes, it really just adds to it all, like it looks so realistic and horrifying. i know kirby games get dark, i've been a longtime fan but holy SHIT this entire ending is comparable to zero ripping its fucking eye out.

oh and the flesh wall. ooooOOOOOOHOHOOOOOOHOO BOY DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THE FLESH WALL.

call me a piss baby all you want, but this was the first time a kirby game EVER made me feel GENUINE fear

like. the more you look at it the more terrifying it gets, and just. the two tongues it has, the heads of all the enemies you've encountered throughout the game, just. GOD yes

OH YEAH!!! AND HERE'S A FUN LITTLE DETAIL I HAVEN'T SEEN TOO MANY PEOPLE TALK ABOUT

at some point during the forgo chase theme, there's a segment where you can hear a series of terrified animal yelps. thats right. fucking ANIMAL yelps. the creatures absorbed by forgo aren't just dead! THEY ARE STILL ALIVE AND ARE TERRIFIED AND ARE PROBABLY IN HORRIFIC AMOUNTS OF PAIN. HOLY FUCK HAL ARE YALL OKAY OVER THERE

honestly, i'm NOT complaining about what we got at all, but dude, just iMAGINE how much scarier this could have been. imagine if there were alarms n shit setting off because forgo escaped, and the pre-recorded voice of the tour lady echoing through the hallway, and if it touches you, youll die instantly or if the boss was just harder, just. GOD i love this ending so much

imagine for when we see the concept art for forgotten land, GOD i cant wait for hal to drop the concept art for it to see if they had any even more horrifying ideas

im tired its like 8 am im gonna wrap this very long post up and ill write a sequel to it sometime lmao

[bookwyrminspiration]

Fitz's eyes glow (Reflect?) like a cats when a light is shone into them/a picture is taken of him

why stop there? why not make him even more catlike? oh wait wait this is going to take us back to that whole kotlc catboy thing I'm digging my own grave. but also you know what why not? why can't fitz knock things off desks and scream?

For some reason this makes me think of pretty!Fitz. I wonder if I can find that post hang on. Okay I can't find the original post but it was Fitz but as he's drawn in this post. For the purposes of why I'm linking it ignore all the theories I'm just focusing on how he's drawn.

but just imagine that staring at you with reflective eyes in a photograph that's gotta be so unsettling /pos. I love that idea so much. Even better if he's totally unaware of it/how people think about it and is just existing like that with reflective eyes, meanwhile everyone around him is like what the actual fuck dude

I like to think that Fitz's eyes are painful to look into, that's how teal they are. You know when colors are really bright and glitchy and they're hard to focus on? That's his eyes. Keefe and Dex are complaining about all the eye contact Sophie and Fitz are making as they do their cognate exercises meanwhile Fitz is innocently looking at Sophie and she's trying not to melt because his eyes are too bright to process and there are tears streaking down her cheeks and she tries, futilely, to hold his gaze while her mind shreds itself and her corneas are scorched into nothing. When she looks away there are spots in her vision like she's been staring at the sun.

also when you sent this ask my brain stopped working for a second because...I did that to Tam in the wings au. I legit was like yeah tam has reflective eyes like a cat. Though he isn't a cat. There are no cats present in the wings au (Echo is not a cat). But Tam or Fitz, both are fun!!

[ave-aria]

Rewind

Ectober Week 2020 Day 3: Rewind Summary: Maddie can't believe what she's seeing on the security tape. In shock, she hits rewind. Tags: Reveal fic, Blood, Angst, Implications of character death, Tragedy, Trauma, Oneshot

-

Rewind.

Maddie keeps her eyes on the tv screen as the figures wind their way backwards to the start of the video. She won't look away. Can't. Doesn't dare.

If she looks away, she'll have to focus on something else. The quiet, dusty lab around her. The uncleaned ecto-weapons by the door. The green blood smattered on the blade.

The hollow, empty house looming over her head…

The video hiccups a bit as she hits the start of the feed. Old VHS tapes are odd like that, buzzing out with static where the film wore thin from too many pauses and restarts. It's a sign she's hit the beginning. Maddie presses play.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

It was an old security tape, filched from the lab. Onscreen, three teenagers, her son at the lead, slip into the camera's field of view. Maddie leans closer, enraptured by the movement, even though she's seen this moment enough times to have it seared into her brain.

Maybe, if she focuses hard enough, she can learn the secret - how to rewind her own mistakes, go back to a time when none of it has happened, just like in the video.

"Whoa, check it out! This thing's huge! I can't believe your parents built this!" A pause, while the kid adjusts his glasses. "Bummer that it doesn't work though, dude."

"Damn. Was it really supposed to open a portal to the underworld?"

"It's 'The Ghost Zone,' Sam. And yeah. My parents were pretty heartbroken when it didn't work. It kinda just… fizzled out. I hope they're not too upset."

The detached, clinical angle of the shot doesn't do the moment justice. Danny'd always been such a kind boy, thoughtful and empathetic to a fault. Maddie's throat closes up a little, leaving her struggling to breathe. They had been upset. Unbearably so. Their life's work - as Danny put it - fizzled out before their very eyes. It'd been a hard loss to take, one that she and Jack might never have recovered from, had the Portal not miraculously started working on its own, days later.

God. Now she almost wishes it hadn't.

A bright flash draws her from her reverie. Maddie blinks at the screen. A camera flash. In her distraction, she's missed part of the video; Tucker's casual "Lighten up, dude,", Sam's request for a photo op, Danny grabbing a hazmat suit to pose with while she dug the device from her backpack.

"—Got it," Sam waves the printed Polaroid to air out the negative.

"Okay. I showed you the portal. Can we get out of here now? My parents could be back here any minute."

Where had they been that day, anyway? Maddie wonders. Grocery shopping? Visiting the park? Moping, as they tried anything to get their minds off of their most recent failure? If they'd been there —

If they'd been there—

"Come on, Danny," comes Sam's voice, treacherous in its fascination. "A Ghost Zone? Aren't you curious?"

Danny looks into the Portal, clutching the custom white suit made specially for him. Sam smirks, knowing. "You gotta check it out."

Maddie hits pause.

Rewind.

"You gotta check it out."

Pause. Rewind.

"You gotta check it out."

Rewind.

"—gotta check it out."

The remote feels cold and heavy, like ice in her hand. In that moment, a selfishness grips her. She could blame Sam. For all if it. Everything that happened, it all started here, and it started because—

—But she can't blame Sam, because the next moment, Danny turns back, his eyes sparkling with an adventurous spirit. It's a spark of curiosity, brimming at the thought of the unknown; a look she's all too familiar with, one she's seen often on her daughter's face, her husband's - even her own, in the mirror.

"You know what? You're right. Who knows what kind of awesome, super cool things exist on the other side of that Portal?"

That curiosity, it's a Fenton trait, not one that needs to be stoked like a fire. That spark's been burning within him, since the cradle.

"Don't go in," she whispers, as if her advice could change the course of history. Even if he could hear her, though, it would be no use. He can no more resist the call than he can resist breathing.

He pulls on the hazmat suit. Skintight, white with black edging. It's like staring at a photo-negative. Watching her son, Maddie's stomach twists.

How couldn't she see it before?

"Alright. I'm going in." He says. His first footsteps echo, loud, in the hollow of the blacked out Portal…

Maddie's breath shudders in. She grips the remote and, before she can stop herself, hits the button.

Rewind.

She watches as her son walks backwards, double-time, out of the entrance to the Portal. The panic that gripped her fades.

"Mads?" From somewhere up above, echoing down the staircase, comes her husband's voice. Maddie is glued to the video screen, and almost doesn't hear him. Regardless, she definitely can't answer. What would she even say?

"Maddie?" His heavy footsteps echo in the stairwell, trudging closer. "Are you down there?"

A hitch in the tape. Maddie presses play.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

Drawn by the sound, Jack trudges the rest of the way down the narrow staircase. She feels a slight reverberation in the floor when he reaches the landing behind her. She doesn't turn around.

"The police called back. Officer McNally said he'd file a missing persons report, and they promised to keep their eyes open. But—" she hears the way uncertainty causes his voice to die in his throat when she doesn't turn to greet him. After a long moment of silence, he draws up to her side. "What are you watching?" he asks at last.

"It kinda just… fizzled out. I hope they're not too upset."

Question. He'd asked a question. Maddie swallows and struggles to answer. "Security tapes," she chokes out.

Understanding, an incomplete kind, dawns on Jack, and vigor jumps back into his bones. "Mads, that's brilliant!" he booms. "Why didn't I think of it? He comes into the lab all the time! We can use the security tapes to see when he last—"

"I found this tape in Danny's room," she interrupts.

Again, his voice falters in confusion.

"Under the bed," she elaborates, as if that will help. And continues watching, detached.

"Can we get out of here now? My parents could be back any minute."

The flickering light of the tv fills the lab, ominous in its glow. Jack hesitates. Maybe he's picked up on the subtext by now. Maddie can picture his eyes drifting from the staticy screen to the items in front of it, scattered across the table. He reaches out fro the shoebox sitting beside the tv. Taped to its front, written in the cursive, unmistakable scrawl of their son's handwriting, is a note that reads:

'If I Never Come Home'

"Maddie, what is this." Jack's voice is uncharacteristically heavy. Looking to her for guidance. For answers.

For once, she has none to give.

"Watch," Maddie whispers, still trapped by the screen. Automatic, her fingers hit the button.

Rewind.

With no other options to grasp at, he does.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

Watches as the kids approach the Portal.

"Aren't you curious?"

Watches as their son zips up the hazmat suit.

"Alright, I'm going in."

Watches as he disappears into the empty cavity of their greatest invention.

Click.

Watches as it thrums to life, with a scream.

"Da—Danny no!" Jack yells in tandem with the two remaining teens. He lurches forward, hand outstretched, to stop the agony onscreen. "He's not - when did he -"

"It's old, Jack," Maddie whispers. "From when the Portal started working."

Jack spins to stare at her. "You mean - Danny's the one who—" he's visibly struggling with the information, the same way she did, on her first viewing. "But—he never said—"

Right, Madie thinks. He never said anything. Jack's confusion is laughable, though. Why Danny never told them—that much is painfully clear.

"Guys?" Over the yelling and the panicking and the electric cackle from the Portal, their son's terrified voice cuts through the din. "G-guys help, what's happening?!"

Tucker and Sam are black silhouettes stumbling backwards from a swirling green glow, but they freeze and scramble to right themselves, lurching forward to catch someone as he stumbles through the gate.

Phantom - Danny - emerges from the portal, falling to his knees.

"…No," Jack says. Disbelief is thick in his voice. "That can't be… no."

Maddie lifts the remote.

Rewind.

A flash of light. A curdling scream. A shock of confusion, panic, scramble.

Danny Phantom stumbles from the portal.

Jack stares for a long time. Then he reaches out, snatching the lid of the shoebox for a second look at the evidence. The note, accusatory, stares back at them.

"This is how he tells us." Jack doesn't often whisper, but it seems like he can't do anything else. Her husband looks at the empty shoebox, the screen, the VCR. "Our son is Danny Phantom, and this is how he tells us. I…" he trails off.

Maddie almost can't believe it, how easily Jack arrives at the conclusion. It took her twelve viewings for her to wrap her mind around it, and it still hasn't really sunk in. But then, that's always been Jack's strong poing - those intuitive leaps of logic. Ones every scientist both loathed and envied.

"Did it kill him?" he moves seamlessly onto the next question that tripped her. Somehow, Jack's voice is even quieter this time.

Maddie shakes her head no. If they watch the video long enough, about ten minutes in, Danny manages to change his way back to human. If their invention did kill him, it wasn't permanent. Not that time, at least.

She's too close to thinking about it.

Rewind.

"But—" she can't stop Jack from thinking, though. He barrels on, heedless of breaking the fragile grasp Maddie has on her sanity. "But if all this time — Phantom—"

A hitch in the tape.

"We've been—"

Press play.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

"—Don't tell me we've been trying to waste our own kid—"

If Maddie weren't so detached, she might laugh. Waste. God, he can't even say it.

"Trying?" she asks instead. Bitter, the word sticks to her tongue.

She's not looking at the tape now. She's looking at him. And Jack, oh, Jack, he just stares down at her, a dark horror growing in his eyes.

He whips around to look at the bloodied weapons sitting at the base of the stairs.

Exactly where they left them two days ago, after that nasty ghost fight. When they came home to find a broken house, their daughter crying at the kitchen table, and their son just - gone.

"No." Jack backs up a step. "No no no no no no no—"

A flash of light. A curdling scream—

In an instant, Jack is moving. He snatches up weapons, whatever he can find, and bolts for the staircase, vaulting his way up to ground floor. Distantly, Maddie hears the doors slam. The RV thrumming to life. The screech of tires as Jack peels out of the driveway.

In the cold wake of his departure, Maddie turns back to the tv. She should go after him, she knows. But she's not quite done watching. Jack's always been a man of action, after all, but she's the analytical one, who studies, who marvels, who gathers the facts she sees.

Phantom, onscreen, slumps against his friends while he drips ectoplasm to the floor. He stares down at his white-gloved hands, his glowing green eyes wide in shock. Maddie wonders if he knew, then, what would become of him. What his parents, who raised him, who swore to protect him, would do.

She can't face those questions. Not yet. Not yet. Instead, she lifts the remote.

And rewinds.

A good scientist, a rational scientist, never draws conclusions while she's still gathering evidence. So as long as she's still watching—

A hitch in the tape. She's at the beginning. Maddie presses play.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

As long as she keeps watching, she doesn't have to do anything with this information. All she has to do is watch.

So she watches. She rewinds. And she plays. She can't look away—

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here—"

She doesn't dare.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down h—"

All she can do is rewind—

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let y—"

And rewind—and rewind—

"Mom and Dad would kill me if—"

Until she finds evidence contrary to her theory…

"Mom and Dad would kill me—"

Or she finds Its inevitable End.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

Rewind.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they—"

Rewind.

"Mom—"

Rewind.

"Mom—"

Rewind.

"Mom—"

-

[AO3] [FFN]

[pallasperilous]

Occursus

Castiel/Dean Winchester Gen/Teen, 4341 words 15x20 coda  AO3 version “The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” Cas says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” 

Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two. “Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes. “It was a poor analogy. I apologize.” “So what’s a better one?” Castiel drums his fingers for a second. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.” “Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

It’s half past midnight by the time Dean gets another run at Cas.

Granted, what the fuck does half past midnight even mean here, where time is as free as tap water? Why does anybody even bother? For all it matters, Dean could set his watch to eleventy minutes past twenty o’ nope and still never miss last call.

Then again, somebody felt it necessary to invent the idea of Tuesday in the first place, and Dean’s not gonna volunteer himself for the task of replacing it with something better. What’s important is that he’s survived (or rather, he hasn’t survived) a battery of poignant moments and tearful reunions. He and Sam hugged out burdens registering in the triple digits. They even had a little fight, pretty much for the fun of it, while Ellen fucking Harvelle watched them over the bar with her eyes shining. She still charged them, though.

Right at the beginning of the party Dean and Castiel had their eyes-across-the-room thing, followed by the same magnetic, exhausted embrace they’ve shared on just about every plane of reality now. Dean supposes he could ask Cas for a nickel tour of the Empty just so they could hit for the cycle, but he’d really rather not. Sam let them eke out a few gruff, tear-choked monosyllables before diving in, sweeping Cas up in a bear hug and laughing like a fucking kid. Dean doesn’t push it, because it’s been longer for Sam, after all. Or something.

 And now it’s quiet, just the jukebox and the clink of glasses back in the kitchen, a few folks murmuring in booths. It might be dark outside, it might not; it’s waiting on Dean’s opinion before it commits to anything. And so is Cas, who is standing in the warm glow of the jukebox, hands in his pockets.

 Dean walks up, leans against it, bottle still dangling from one hand.

“C’mon, sunshine. I’ll show you yours, you show me mine.”

Cas looks up and into Dean’s eyes with the wary, elegant patience of a deer. “What is it that you would be showing me, Dean?”

Dean gives him a long, languid blink and bites his lip, and Castiel lags for half a second before rolling his own eyes. “I see death hasn’t refined your sense of humor.”

“Nope. Guess the billionth time aint the charm.”

Cas remains stonefaced, which means a corresponding you dumbass blush starts crawling up the sides of Dean’s neck. The jukebox switches records like it’s making a suggestion.

“I’m gonna sit down outside,” Dean says. “C’mon and sit down with me. There’s a patio somewhere, right? Ellen was always talking about adding one out back. No way she hasn’t bossed somebody into buildin’ it.”

“There’s a patio,” Cas says, taking his hands out of his pockets.

 Heaven’s patio is pretty nice; twenty square feet, some scattered picnic tables, fences covered in ivy and string lights. It still smells like fresh pine boards. There’s even a fire pit, which seems kinda bougie for the Roadhouse, but hell with it, it’s warm and pretty, and since when did pretentious people get to lay claim to “a hole with a fire in it”? There’s no moon overhead, and so the Milky Way is giving them the full monty — the runnelled spine of it, the ribcage packed with galaxies.

“Are they all alive?” Dean asks. The warmth from inside leaks out of his collar, wisps away.

“Who?”

Dean points up. “The stars. They always make a big deal about how most of the stars you can see from Earth have been dead for millions of years by the time we get the light from ‘em. That still true here? Or is everything on auto-renewal?”

“That’s a very complicated question,” Cas says, not looking up, only at Dean. He does that a lot, Dean knows, but it turns out to mean something different than what Dean had always assumed, which was ironically pretty similar to what it actually meant, but was reassuringly unactionable and therefore unfuckupable.

“I’m a very complicated guy,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles at that. “I don’t actually know the answer,” he admits. “And it would take an extremely long time to investigate. There are some other things I’d rather do first.”

“What, you can’t just call the kid for directory assistance?”

Castiel lets a good-humored sigh. “Like many young people these days, Jack prefers to avoid the phone.”

This is a solid riff, and Dean respects it. He picks the table closest to the fire and takes a bench and Cas sits next to him, instead of opposite. Dean thought he managed to break him of this habit a few years ago, but here all things are made whole again.

“So what,” Cas says, without a single molecule of playfulness or seduction, “is it that you want us to show each other?”

“Yeah, I was…it was a dumb joke. But I mean it, just not in a ‘playing doctor’ way.”

Castiel frowns, tightens his lips; the firelight throws a fluttering shadow across his face.

“I mean…Christ.” Dean takes a medicinal slug of his dwindling beer. “I don’t really look like this anymore either, right?” And he gestures at his usual shitshow personal presentation, which death has also noticeably failed to refine.

Castiel frowns, smoothes his hand across the surface of the table. “This is a corporeal world, Dean. It operates on a different set of rules, but your body here is no more of an illusion than it was on earth.”

“Seriously?” Dean ponders a second, squints through the dim light at his fingernails, at the high-resolution grime contained therein. “Jesus, that sounds like a lot of work. At least compared to Holodeck Heaven.”

“It is. But we didn’t build this place to be a...a…doorprize. It’s a real world,” Castiel enthuses, looming forward. “It’s the one that should have been created for all of you in the first place.” He pauses, glances down. “For all of us.”

Dean shrugs. “Okay, so no holograms. I’ll keep all that in mind next time Charlie tries to convince me to go skydiving.”

Castiel snorts, but not in pure aggravation, so Dean feels like he’s finally got a point on the board. “What I’m sayin’ is…physical or not, this place has different rules, right? So could I look at you without my eyeballs exploding? The…you know, the angel parts of you. Not just your vessel,” and Dean fwippies his hand at Cas to indicate that true beauty is contained within and Dean is completely indifferent to the fact this dork-ass alien managed to bodysnatch a guy who’s never dipped below an 8.5.

“It isn’t a vessel anymore. We can create our own bodies, now.”

“Peachy,” Dean clips, because that shit is a little late coming off the line.

Castiel sighs. “You could see me in that form without coming to harm. But you should know that I don’t consider it any more a reflection who I am than this form. Not anymore.”

Dean rolls the bottle towards him, nudges a knuckle. “You’re a real boy now, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Castiel says, and smiles a smile so small that Dean would need a microscope to figure out if it’s pleased or pained.

So Dean thwacks the bottle down on the totally-real table and claps his totally-real hands. “Well then let’s go. Hit me with that angel weirdness. If we’re gonna do this, I gotta taste all thirty-one flavors.”

Castiel smiles a little more convincingly, but it still doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are really only the two,” he says, and holds his palms out to the warmth of the fire.

“Great, then we’ll be done in time to catch Letterman. Then if you’re good maybe you can help me shimmy out of this thing.”

Cas cocks his head. “Out of which thing?”

“This super real heavenly meat-suit, dude. It’s not fair if only one of us gets naked. Peep show has to go both ways. I see your angel-face, you see my soul.”

Cas looks stricken, like Dean is asking to suck on his toes next to a playground. “I mean, unless that’d fuck you up,” Dean adds.

“No,” Castiel replies, a little absently. “It wouldn’t fuck me up. But it…wouldn’t really accomplish anything, either.”

“What, no soul kink? That’s bullshit and you know it. You love this crap.”

Castiel replies, “Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” with the easy confidence of a regular latte order. With the same uncanny, 2 Blessed 2 B Stressed face he had when Dean plowed Ruby’s knife hilt-deep into Jimmy Novak’s sternum, that he had when the Empty collapsed him  like a carcass in an acid bath.

That face shuts Dean right the fuck up, because it sends him skipping backwards into that fucking basement, where his phone is buzzing and the gritty concrete chill of the floor is seeping through his jeans into the useless meat of his legs and leeching into the hot, wet channels of his piece of shit heart.

Turns out you can work up a good little panic attack in heaven, which seems like a significant oversight.

From a million miles away he feels Cas’s warm, dry palm slide over the back of his hand –– there’s a ring there now that Dean lost down a motel sink drain ages ago, is nobody spotting continuity errors here?—then Cas’s hand tightens on his and it feels like a Xanax kicking in. (The good kind, direct from the hot nurse with the little paper cup, not the kind you get in a from a shady burnout at a truckstop, that’s been ground up with baking soda or benadryl and carefully remolded, as if you could possibly give that much of a shit when you’re freaking out bad enough to buy Xanax at a truckstop.)

Point being, he calms the fuck down.

Cas has good hands. They can do a lot of impressive shit, and they look nice doing it. They don’t look like –– they’ve never looked like –– they belong to somebody whose main job is destroying people, places, or things. They’re hands that how to play the cello, or make tables from reclaimed wood, or give soapy, encompassing handjobs in the shower on cold evenings.

“It’s been years, though,” Dean rasps, not looking up yet. “I was a kid when you got me out of Hell, Cas. I’ve done a lot of shit since then. Maybe souls get stretch marks.”

Castiel’s hand tightens on his, clamps it down on the table. “I’ve always been able to see it.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbles, but Cas keeps on going –

“The only time I couldn’t see any part of your soul was when I was without grace, and I promise you that was one of the greatest deprivations imaginable.”

Dean snorts, looks away, but his hand is still on lockdown. “Worse than going hungry, huh?”

“Much.”

“Hey, what about Sam? Or, hell, fucking Donatello. They both were both walking around minus their creamy filling, and you didn’t say boo.”

Cas shrugs. “I can’t see their souls under ordinary circumstances.”

“So what, mine’s just extra loud, or day-glo, or what?”

“It’s both of those things, but that isn’t why,” Cas answers, and the boy is downright wry.

Dean tugs his hand out, raps his knuckles against the wood. “Okay, so stop bein’ coy and tell me before I get a complex. And if you say it’s because of love or some shit, I’m bailing to Rowena’s.”

“You infected me,” Cas says.

“Uh,” says Dean.

The fire pops and a log shifts; Cas glances over at the kerfuffle, absently lifts his fingers to his chin like he’s looking for an old scar. “In Hell, when I retrieved you…I had to grip your raw soul. I was meant to wear a gauntlet, so I wouldn’t be burned.”

Dean snickers. “You’re telling me you were supposed to be wearing a soul condom. What happened, you get too excited and forget to suit up? It’s okay, I know I’m a lot to take in.”

Castiel purses his lips. “No, I was properly armored. But my arm was torn off in combat shortly before I reached you.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch,” Cas agrees. “I didn’t have time to retrieve the arm or its protection from the pit, so I had to grow a new one very quickly.”

Dean really should’ve switched to whiskey before starting this. “What, you didn’t pack a spare?” He wheezes.

“Ordinarily, yes, I would have had the resources, but I was equipped very lightly for that mission. It was a raid, not a siege. You understand the difference.”

“Sure, yeah, you left your emergency arms in the trunk. So you just popped out a new one. No big.”

“It was a big. Your soul was close enough that it forced me to grow a human arm, instead of a much quicker and more powerful extensor.”

“Okay, uh,” Dean pinches at the bridge of his nose, “there’s a lot to unpack there.”

“What part of it confuses you?”

“I dunno, the bit where apparently angels are I guess heavenly octopuses,”

“The plural in the Greek is octopodes,” Cas interjects, not without pleasure.

Dean glowers. “Or the part where you can apparently swap in different drill bits,” Dean continues,

“Mm,” Cas notes, careful not to open his mouth,

“Or that I, like, accidentally bullied you into growing a person arm,” and Dean pauses for breath here, which Cas evidently takes as permission to dive in with more Planet Earth commentary.

“The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” he says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two.

“Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes.

“It was a poor analogy. I apologize.”

“So what’s a better one?”

Castiel drums his fingers for a second, listens to the fire pop in its little cage. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.”

“Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

“What I’m trying to avoid saying,” Castiel sighs, “is that you rubbed off on me.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. That’s fair. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to say that around me, either.”  He lays a couple little pats on Cas’s hand. “Lookit you, though, seeing around that corner. I’m proud of you, man. That would’ve totally flipped your breaker back in the day.”

“Just one of the many ways you have reshaped me, Dean,” Cas says, with warm sarcasm.

“Alright, so you rawdogged me, I whammied you. Chocolate, peanut butter, peanut butter, chocolate.”

Cas’s forehead wrinkles in skepticism. “I still prefer the cockroach. But some part of your soul injected itself into one of my more exposed frequencies. Under different circumstances, I would’ve stopped and excised the affected area before it spread, but. I was being pursued, and the mission had taken much longer than any of us anticipated.”

“Us? Thought it was just you down there.”

Cas looks vaguely offended, straightens and folds his arms like he just remembered he’s giving a deposition. “No, of course not. Michael assigned sixty-six angels in eleven groups of six, each escorted to the field by a seraph. We struck simultaneously at six different areas in perdition. From there we dispersed to individual targets –– to cause as much chaos as possible in order to help obscure the object of our mission, and to increase the odds that one of us would actually find you.”

“And you were the lucky winner.” Dean pushes down a touch of sick shame at the thought of it — he’d been coiled up like a snake around somebody else’s torment, anesthetized by it. It was one of the random rags of infernal time where his own pain decreased in proportion to how much he dealt out, and that was the closest thing Hell had to a Friday night.

“I was,” Castiel nods. “I took some liberties with my assignment,” he adds, squinting. “I flattered myself that I shared a special affinity with The Righteous Man.”

“That guy always sounded like kind of a cunt to me,” Dean notes. “You know, not withstanding the fact that I’m him.”

Castiel shrugs. “I found you, and I did what was necessary to save you, and my siblings did what was necessary to save me.” A little falter enters his voice. “Only twelve of us returned from that mission.” Cas looks up, out, away. A dove coos somewhere nearby of the Roadhouse; did it have a run-in with the windshield of an eighteen wheeler one day and show up here, Dean wonders, or does heaven make its own birds from scratch? That’s gotta be a softball compared to whether Betelgeuse is still open for business.

Castiel waits until the bird shuts up, then says, “Of those twelve surviving angels, I personally murdered nine, in everything that followed.”

After a moment Dean says “Yeah,” with practiced neutrality. He’s got some similar tallies, written in Sharpie on the back of his eyelids.

Cas sighs and his attention comes back down to the table. “By the time I received the authority to restore your soul to your body, the infection had spread almost past the point of containment. That’s why I resisted taking a vessel at first. I worried that occupying a human form would speed up the process.”

“Hey now. I thought you showed up naked because you thought I’d be one of those special people,” Dean quips, “Who can handle angel stuff without going all kibbles ’n bits.”

“That was only a partial truth.”

Dean tips the beer bottle in salute. “You’re a real special flavor of asshole, Cas.”

“So I’ve been told. I was right, though. When I took Jimmy as a vessel, I contracted — condensed — myself very severely. The infection had a much shorter distance to travel to reach all of my extremities, and a human form was the most hospitable environment possible.”

“You got a raging case of the Deans.”

Cas’s head kicks back in a laugh that kinda surprises them both. “Yes,” he says, grinning. “I did. I was very displeased, and very concerned I’d be found out and judged unfit for duty. And I very much was. Unfit, that is. Though I was not found out.”

“C’mon, never? You went rogue on the company.”

“Uriel suspected. Naomi certainly detected it later, as did Metatron. But in the moment, no. The Host’s attention was focused on the Apocalypse ahead, not on debriefing a mission that was considered a success. After the Cage was closed, I had too much influence to come under that level of scrutiny.”

“Hmh.” Dean realizes he’s been systematically picking down the label on the beer bottle, so he sets it on the ground before he gets sticky little shreds everywhere. “So I gotta ask. My little souvenir, the handprint. That’s where you grabbed me, with your lil…Mister Potato Head human arm?”

“It is.”

“If I’m the one who infected you, how come I’m the one who got burned?”

“My hand didn’t burn you.”

“Well, it ain’t fingerpaint.”

“Your own soul burned it, as it flowed out of your flesh and into mine. It burned until the moment when I finally released you from my grip. My hand healed itself; your arm did not.” Castiel gives a thin scoff. “I hadn’t planned to leave you interred.”

“Oh, no? Well that’s nice to hear, you know, a decade after the fact. I still have nightmares about that shit.”

Castiel winces. “It’s no excuse, but I was in a great deal of…the equivalent of pain. It took an immense effort to break off the inflow of your soul, and when I did manage it, I was thrown quite a ways by the recoil. By the time I recovered enough to return, you were already looting a gas station,” He finishes, dryly.

“Yeah, well, Dad didn’t think much of leisure as a virtue. Also I was thirsty, because I’d just crawled out of my own grave.”

“And I was distracted, because I’d just fought my way out of the inferno while being digested by a demented human soul.”

“You wanna call it even?”

Cas lifts his brows. “If you don’t mind.”

 There is a long, dark breath, during which their little smiles fade. 

 “So, all that,” Dean says, because he’s a fucking coward.

“All that,” says Cas, because he isn’t.

 Dean clears his throat. “That means you can see my soul-stuff 24/7, huh?”

Castiel slides one leg up onto the bench, shifts to sit astride it, like he’s maybe about to deliver an after-school PSA on the Real Deal About Drugs. “I can always see myself, and extensions of my self. And since your soul made itself into an integral part of me…I can see you.”

“I take it that’s not exactly in the manual.”

“No. I didn’t entirely understand it at first — for a long time, I convinced myself it was because you were designed to be a celestial vessel, and that I had been destined to save you from Hell.”

That thin, acidic feelings starts to rise up in Dean’s chest again. “Do you…” A dry swallow reflex grabs his throat. “Hm. Fuck.”

“What?” Cas asks, scooting forward. An angel. Scooting. What a world. “You can ask me anything, Dean. I hope we’re both past being offended.”

“Have you ever thought that. This whole deal. Our…thing.” Dean lets out a breath. “The way you feel about me. The way I feel about you.”

“Do I worry that its only basis is our shared material?”

Dean licks his lips, works a jaw muscle, forces out a nod. 

Cas frowns, sets one elbow up against the table, then lets his head tip to the side. “Why do you love Sam?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I get it, he’s my brother. We got shared material, too. But we’re not talking genetics.”

“Genes were the initial basis of your love for Sam. But you share half as much material with Adam. Do you love him fifty percent as much as you do Sam?”

“One, love doesn’t work that way and you know it, and two, fucking of course not. I barely know the guy, and what I’ve seen didn’t exactly blow me away.” Not that the poor dumb kid ever really had a chance. “Sam’s Sam, he’s earned it a million times over just by bein’ him.”

“Then you understand.”

“But Cas, man…I…” Dean laughs, which is an abbreviated form of screaming, “I treated you like shit.”

Cas nods. “You did.”

“Okay, the rules say you’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“But the balance remains in your favor. Dean, are you genuinely afraid that you — care for me…”  and Dean can hear the FCC live-bleep in that one, like does his total cowardice have a special color Cas can see with his soul-o-vision? “Only out of some compulsion?”

“No,” Dean says, to the great surprise of his frontal cortex, which was busy kicking the shit out of itself. “No,” he says again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, that that answer actually came out of him and entered the living air between them.

Then the wave is rolling towards him and he enters that slim moment of body-physics where you either take a lungful and commit to diving under the break, or you kick out against the undertow, arch your back to meet the blow, and let yourself be flown all the way up to the waiting shore––

“No,” Dean says, “I love you.” And he chokes up a little, first at the release of saying it, then at how much of exactly jack-shit it changes anything so what was he even scared of, and then at the look on Cas’s face: how he’s frozen. Like that dog from that video, the one that loved tennis balls so goddamn much that his owner bought him a thousand fucking tennis balls and dumps them out all at once and the dog absolutely stalls the fuck out, just seconds on end of underspecced dog-brain hang time before he finally snaps back to reality and loses his absolute shit scrabbling all over the porch.

Castiel comes back online with a little choking noise of his own, and a kind of awkward scrabble for Dean’s hand.

“I have for a long time,” Dean continues, because apparently he’s continuing, “I’ve loved you for fucking ages, Cas. In people years, anyway, I’m sure that mean’s fuckall to somebody who’s a zillion––”

“I don’t,” Cas says thickly, “really give a damn about the age difference, Dean,” and cracks into a chuckle.

“So how come you never knew it?” Dean asks, feeling freedom turn into a hunger or something like vertigo. “If you can see my soul, how could you not know?”

Cas shrugs, a bit helplessly.

“Seriously,” Dean laughs, “how did I manage to hide that shit so well? Sammy found every nudie mag I ever shoplifted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’ve never actually been able to hide anything from me.”

Dean scoffs. “C’mon, man. I snowed you plenty, or else we woulda had this conversation dirtside a long time ago.”

“Whatever I missed, Dean…it wasn’t because you succeeded at hiding it,” Castiel says, softly. He takes a slow, shaky breath, and meets Dean’s eyes with a smile. He lifts a hand to Dean’s face, bone and flesh on flesh and bone. “I just loved you enough to look away.”

 It’s a long time before they go back inside. By any measure. {AO3}