#he’s a cryptid if you really think about it

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay,” he says cheerfully. “Tried YouTube yet? They’ve got tutorials for everything on there. I found a guy who taught me how to change my oil and tie a Windsor knot.” 

“Did you not know how to tie a Windsor knot?” Tim asks, both clearly puzzled and clearly a trust fund kid. 

“Naw, Bruce or Alfie always just materialized it for me whenever it came up,” Dick replies with an easy shrug. “Also had to learn how to shave from Ollie, which was definitely an experience. But Dinah taught me how to smuggle a full bottle of Jack into a bar in fishnets at the same time, which is actually really useful knowledge so remind me to pass that one on later. Donna and I literally saved most of San Francisco and our favorite coffee shop that way once. Oh, and Harvey was the one who explained taxes existed. Did not know those were a thing ‘til I was like, twenty.” 

Twenty-ish, anyway. Well, he’s twenty-three now, probably, so . . . eh, twenty-two at the latest. 

“. . . your life experiences are not universal,” Tim says after a long pause, like getting wooed with handmade nests and giant diamonds by a half-alien superclone and knowing how to tie a Windsor knot at age fifteen is somehow “universal”. No one in this conversation has been even slightly “universal” in their life experiences. 

“Are you telling Superboy about Robin yet?” Dick asks, and Tim–hesitates, a little. 

“I didn’t think it was mine to tell,” he replies carefully. “Most of the Justice League doesn’t even know about Robin.” 

“I told the Titans,” Dick replies with a shrug. “And Uncle Clark.” 

“Jason–” Tim starts, and Nightwing’s sleek feathers all instantly, involuntarily twitch. Tim cuts himself off, and Dick . . . doesn’t say anything, for a moment. 

Jason never told anyone about Robin. 

Though the Joker was pretty bored when he figured it out, apparently. A “real” person wasn’t as interesting as the mask. The mask being a mask wasn’t as interesting, maybe. 

( Dick doesn’t think about how much RAGE it puts in him, thinking about the Joker cutting Jason out of Robin’s wings and finding him BORING. thinking he was LESS than, thinking he wasn’t worth– 

it’s not the time for that. for any of that. 

it’s not. )

“You’re your own Robin,” Dick says. “It’s up to you who you tell what.” 

“I did tell Steph,” Tim says awkwardly, looking away. “Well . . . I mean . . .” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, baby bird,” Dick says. “Like I said: you’re your own Robin.” 

“But you were Robin first!” Tim practically bursts out, gesturing sharply with Robin’s wings. “And it just . . . it feels wrong, to tell people! Like it’s someone else’s secret. I only actually told Steph because I felt like I had to, if we were gonna–if we, you know–but Superboy doesn’t care whether I’m human or not, and she did, and . . . I never felt right about telling her anyway. Just because I thought I was supposed to, not because I . . . sorry. Just . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

( “I’M sorry,” Dick doesn’t say back, because he can never say that to Tim while he’s wearing Robin. 

it never ends up as him saying it to TIM, when he tries to. )

[ghouldtime]

you’re the most correct and sane könig writer and I thank you so much. you characterise him so fluidly and it makes it so so good to read what you write about him. I’m praying to any and every god that paranormal investigators AU wins so we can get fucked up cryptid könig

AHHH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH 💚💚💚💚💚 I'm glad you like how I write him!

I'm aware how I write him isn't like most of the fandom but I just try to give him somewhat solid justice and keep in-character of how I see him/what we do know. I'm just never going to get behind the realllly really awful things that I hear/see most times for him. Like you do you if that's what you want to write, but I'm also going to ignore all content like that because a lot of it is just. Gross. I can't even LOOK in the tag anymore (Genuinely convinced people just are projecting their own horny desires onto him regardless of how he is which is why there's so many really nasty interpretations that just don't fit him??? Also idk who is the person who started the 6'10" rumor but genuinely I'm coming for you it's so dumb and makes 0 sense. He's tall, not THAT tall, I don't think everyone realizes how tall that is and how many issues that causes.) Can you tell I'm easily distracted IRREGARDLESS of what wins, I will happily do fucked up cryptid König. Just a matter of time

And deciding on the creature. Any suggestions are absolutely welcome, throw it at me? I'll write it.

[Minus the cannibalistic W one which I will not fully name out of respect and a similarly popular one starting with S, ending in -alker , that also belongs to Native cultures which I have 0 right to use and would feel like shit doing so. They've been really bastardized by popular culture into being a gimmicky thing instead of treating with proper seriousness and intent when it comes to the topic of them, watered down, and I'm NEVER ever ever going to write using those because it's not in my right to do so]

[dogsrot]

the fact that like . . fenrir technically doesn’t exist ??

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 296

Through a series of miscommunication, the League is now under the impression that Batman, strange cryptid that he is, may or may not have given birth to the other vigilantes running around in Gotham. This was not helped by Bruce referring to all of his children, no matter how big they get, as his babies. Nor was it helped by Red Robin, in the middle of a narcolepsy-fueled imminent crash, mentioned how he had no mother. 

It also doesn’t help that no one is aware that they are in fact completely normal people, and not aspects of Gotham itself brought to life. Though really that’s on the bats themselves, because at this point they should at least count as undead. 

[ennard-is-near]

(This whole thing is based off the theory that Michael is still alive in Security Breach, which is hilarious imo)

A FNaF game where you are the night guard in the Pizzaplex, and the antagonist is Michael Afton. He’s not trying to kill you or anything, you just have opposite goals (You like the animatronics and the Fazbear brand, he does not). He’s also trying to get you to quit or get fired.

Things are going wrong. Stuff is being stolen and vandalized. The animatronics are being tampered with, sometimes they’re vandalized too. Things never stay how you left them. You are starting to feel like someone has broken in, which is especially bad, because you’re a security guard. It’s your whole job to keep people out.

Your character will occasionally say how bad it smells in the room. Sometimes you remark that you’re being watched. There’s sometimes footsteps or scuffling noises in the background. If you look close enough in certain rooms, you can see the faint outline of a guy or two white dots in the darkness around the light from your flashlight. But you can’t find the source of whatever this is (he’s gotten too good at hiding).

Your character will become more aware that someone really is there throughout the game. You go from asking “Hello? Is someone here?” When something strange happens to saying “I know you did this!” To the darkness because you know he’s there. You can get more hostile towards him, if you’d like, calling him a twat or whatever. You could be nice to him, too. It doesn’t stop him, when you’re nice, because he seems to have some sort of goal (you couldn’t begin to guess what) but it’s not like he’s doing that much damage and he makes your job a little bit more fun.

You never see him, though. Other than the occasional glimpse of movement in the shadows or your flashlight’s glow reflecting off his eyes (that must be what it is, right?) he stays silent and hidden. That’s why you feel you can’t tell anyone, he’s clearly good at hiding and they wouldn’t find him. Plus, he’s annoying, but he doesn’t seem that harmful. (And maybe the darkness is just making you crazy. Maybe there really is nobody there)

But things are definitely going awry. For one, the animatronics are freaking out. They’re weird, almost hostile, towards you. The staffbots follow you around but don’t speak or offer you things, and it freaks you out a little (you can fight them, if you’d like, though it’s not really a fight and more just you beating them up. You could also try and incapacitate them or just try to ignore them). The Glamrocks are scary too, obviously. They chase you, grab you and jumpscare you. (One time though, it seems like one of them is actually going to kill you. It throws you to the floor and you cover your face with your hands. But instead of feeling the impact, there’s a strange noise. You open your eyes to see it incapacitated, and you can hear footsteps shuffling away. Huh.) Even Helpy begins demanding you quit, sometimes being friendly, “No amount of money is worth doing this job,” sometimes he’s meaner, “You’re going to quit or you’re going to die.” Whoever is in the shadows is definitely messing with them in some way.

One night, Helpy tells you, “Sorry, you are going to get fired.” And that night is horrible. Shit is breaking all the time, and the Glamrocks and Staffbots are all over the place, either destroyed or with completely ruined AI. You can’t stop it (maybe you should have been [nicer/meaner] to whoever is doing this) all you can do is try and undo as much damage as possible and tell whoever is there that you really need this job. He doesn’t listen.

When 6am rolls around, your boss arrives and you’re presented with a pink slip. He tells you that your behavior is unacceptable. You either made all this mess yourself or allowed someone else to do it and neglected your job. You’ve been nothing but unprofessional for the duration of your employment, anyway. The animatronics have clearly been tamped with by someone with some knowledge of how they work, not just some random vandal. You must have been messing with them for a while to learn how they worked and took it too far. And, adding insult to injury, tells you that you make every room you’re in smell like death. You don’t have anything to say to defend yourself, you definitely can’t blame a person hiding in the darkness who you didn’t report before and have never fully seen, so you just leave.

Bonus: Here’s an image I made last night at like 2am. It’s just one of the SB rooms but I make it darker and added the flashlight and some other things.

Anyway, sorry this post got so long and turned sort of into fanfiction. I had fun writing it, though. I was just thinking about the fact that Michael might still be kicking in Security Breach (again, hilarious. Also why is he barefoot? Put shoes on, Jesus Christ) and was like “Well, what if you had to play against him?” Because Michael making the lives of night guards harder is very ironic, even if he has good intentions. And it spiraled and turned into this. If you made it this far, wow thanks for reading <3

[autisticrosewilson]

First of all, you have given me so much to work with, thank you so much. Second of all, I’m really glad you could see where I was going with Grant’s real test not actually being about killing Slade. Third of all, I absolutely love what you’ve suggested with the powers and I am currently designing met gala esque outfits for the trio and Tara’s specifically is really fun to play around with. I’ve been thinking to show they’re becoming more divine I’ll change their hair and eye colours but not their faces for the most part. I was drawing robin Jason with Natalia and decided he should have brown eyes and a crooked nose from breaking it as a kid but once he returns his eyes get weird (eg go blue and occasionally other colours), a patch of his hair went white and he lost all of his scars. Also, I think the closer they get to divinity I’m gonna draw cracks on their body that glow with their specific colours just to hammer home how they’re shedding their mortal forms.

With Tara being able to see the strings of fate, I though it’d be fun to give her a harp and then with Jason having the see no evil trait I thought it’d be fun to give him weighing scales since lady justice wears a blindfold. Idk what to give Grant though. I mean probably a weapon of some sort or maybe a Shepard’s crook that he can turn into a scythe to play into the sheep, wolf, Hunter thing.

With Jason and Tara’s splintering, I love the idea of them making fun of Grant for being the baby god. He hasn’t even had a cult yet, gosh he’s so young. Also them being besties just holds a special place in my heart.

And I just came up with this, of course they have parallels to the trinity but in universe rumours of their existence have been around much longer than Bruce, Clark and Diana. They’re the big three of the justice league but these guys are justice gods. So they start calling themselves the justice trinity but then people get confused about which trinity is which because the justice leagues’ trinity sounds awfully close to the justice gods’ trinity. The new all caste is certainly more distinctive branding but the point isn’t to be distinctive, it’s to be petty.

I'm so glad my unmedicated rambling helped!!! And I'm so excited for the outfits!!! I love when characters start becoming less and less human, when they're stuck in that uncanny valley spot of not quite human but not entirely Other, when they lose control and the cracks start to show...um I should probably give a warning for slight body horror elements. Not in the gore sense, in the "this body is not made of flesh and there is something divine clawing it's way out". Uh also there are teeth. Just. Teeth. I dipped into a little bit of cosmic horror at the end there because I wanted to cover my bases with mixed mythologies

Jason, with his defined splinters, is usually depicted with three faces in ancient texts. The Child, gaunt and dark colored, is said to appear before the downtrodden and impoverished. The few stories remaining tell of kindly people who give him an offering, and in exchange he reveals his true form, with his crown of golden ivy and beautiful strong wings to gift them bounties of food and water and riches. Other stories tell of not so kind encounters, where The Child witnesses an injustice - typically against women or children - and again reveals his true form, one with clawed hands and a mouth dripping with blood. Scholars argue what the wings looked like, but whichever All-Caste member annotated it before has compared their likeness to either a Robin or a Shrike.

There's also The Ghost, He appears young at first glance, but his hair is wirey and gray, his eyes milky and unseeing, in bloodied armor he greets the souls of the damned as they're delivered to him, and with scarred hands he wipes the tears of children taken too soon. Accounts of this face are few and far between, but all of them are entrenched in sorrow.

Finally there is The Soldier, scarred and still smoking from the ruins of battle he emerges, giving voice to the weak and resources to the needy. He champions revolutionaries and philosophers first, a strategist who delights in the liberation of the people from corrupt systems. Accounts of him usually come from times of famine and war, and he was particularly popular with poor villages, who would mark the graves of their dead with the symbol of his sword as offerings. For some reason or other, he got particularly popular with the youth, girls and boys both seemed to pray for him and leave him offerings.

The way these manifest on Jason is subtle at first. I could go the body horror route, but I won't. Yet. Instead I think his splinters show up as reflections, shadows, imprints. The faint echo of bell-like laughter when Jason does a move he learned as Robin, the image of a younger him with longer hair and unblinking eyes staring at him in the mirror. It gets worse when he gets the blades, the white streaks his hair, the swirling mark covers more of his skin every time he uses them, he trails the scent of smoke and blood behind him like a signature. His scars...they should disappear. They have for everyone else who used the pit, but instead his skin starts cracking. Any place he's ever been scarred glowing cracks break up his skin. He can't feel them, but he's always aware of them, the meaning behind them, the divinity literally leaking through his body. His eyes aren't brown anymore. They aren't even green. He looks in the mirror and they are copper, molten and burning. He tries his best to keep his mask on.

What do you think of when you imagine the word divinity? Probably something like Tara. Something with skin carved from stone, with moss and fungus crawling up her legs and snow laden shoulders. They say her hair is made of swirling clouds and the sun and moon are her eyes.

Some say she's a nymph although no one knows what kind. You're just as likely to see her name among the naiads as the dryads. Whether flowers bloom where she dances or waves crash when she sings, she's known to be more vicious towards suitors than her sisters.

Others have said she's a faerie, who takes the faces of lost daughters and lovers, slipping into their places seamlessly, forcing unruly men to pay their dues. Others say she's a shifter of a different sort, with a shawl of feathers and a crown of twine and gems. Stories range from men trying to steal her coat (and paying dearly) to lost children returned safely home on the back of a swan.

Tara doesn't think about it at first, the way gravity tends to cede to her, she doesn't notice how sunflowers turn their faces towards her instead of the sun. She doesn't notice the way her face...shifts. it's imperceptible really, and it's not like she looks in the mirror all that often. But everyone around her notices it, on some level, the way her expressions are off. A little too exaggerated. The way her limbs bend just a little too oddly. The way she never looks quite the same as she did the day before, the way she picks up features from the people around her the way she picks up rocks from ground to add to her collection. Clay molded subtly into the image of those she loves, a museum of everyone she's ever met. She does notice when her hair starts going white at the ends, the strange way her hair starts to curl unnaturally, almost floating. She's not so upset about her eyes, the deep blue of her father that has glared down at her day after day, she has changed her hair, her face, her language but she could not change her eyes. It seems she didn't have to, when she wakes up with one a little too silver to be gray and one a little too gold to be brown. And then her skin starts splitting, a cavern made from a broken rib and ravines made by the slashing of knives. She doesn't even bleed anymore, they never scab over. They crystallize, amber like ambrosia, like ichor. Her body a geode waiting to be cracked open to let the thing within finally break free.

They know the least about Grant, whatever he used to be. Half written scrolls, torn or burnt or simply stopped abruptly, illegible journal entries with symbols never recorded in any known language, half finished sketches where the details are never quite clear. A few things are usually consistent though, signs that he's been there, usually from hunters down on their luck or the particularly old and sickly. First, the howling. Like a wolf or a storm, although later accounts would add that it occasionally sounds like a mechanical whirring. Then the rabbits, dead and gutted, but not a trace of blood. Piles of them left in heaps on doorsteps or windowsills. Some have reported knocking at strange hours or finding teeth in their homes, a mix of human and animal. There is one photo on record, the most recent thing in the archive most likely, of claw marks on the side of a barn, too big and oddly serrated, certainly not from anything native to the area. Elderly that report these phenomena typically pass from heart problems within the week, according to some of the old medical files.

Grant came back wrong. Physically, at least. He knows that he's still himself for the most part, dying didn't make him a selfish asshole he did that all on his own, but...but something is wrong with him. It's the way lightbulbs flicker when he's mad and how cameras, no matter the quality, never quite get a clear shot of him. The way Joey can't ever grasp his features, not fully, the details slipping from his mind like water. The way eyes on his face slide right past, unable to look directly at him. It's in the gray spreading from his roots and his eyes too wide and dark to belong to something human. It's the way death clings to him like a second skin, sickly and pallid turning the tips of his fingers gray. His teeth are starting to feel too sharp for his mouth, and he hears things no one else does, whispers of voices that Are Not and Can't Be. The worst part is the orange, liquid candlelight under his skin, lighting up all of his veins and scars, webbing together like the world's worst game of connect the dots. No, there is no mistaking him for something human, so there is no reason to try. If this is his fate then he will take it, because he is not a sheep and he will not be a wolf, he is a hunter, and he is hungry.

[albatris]

hi I just woke up from a dream in which I plotted and wrote a fully formed supernatural queer romance novel plot about characters named fucking RUBY DOOM and fucking DUANE DUCEL

ok brain!!!!! th. thank you? maybe?

[oshikiri-toru]

Thinking about streamer/YouTuber/etc Soap and boyfriend Ghost who is always in the background, but not in the way you think.

Ghost thinks it's funny as fuck to stand in the closet, door just slightly cracked, and stare at the camera while Soap is doing something. When Soap leaves to go to the bathroom, Ghost is standing ominously in the corner only to disappear once Soap stands in front of the camera to sit down. Soap vlogging/going live, walking around the city or something, and keeps turning the camera to see Ghost sitting at a table staring or hiding in an alley. He's always just in frame, always staring with his balaclava on, but never speaks, maybe even refuses to blink.

Soap's fans are terrified. It doesn't happen every stream/video, but just enough to gain attention. People are constantly asking about it; they type all concerned in the chat, only for Soap to insist he doesn't see anything. He'll check the place everyone told him to go just for Ghost to have disappeared. It gets so big that people are watching him just to find Ghost like a fucked up game of Where's Waldo. Some people take it more seriously, asking him to move because he has a stalker or telling him to bring in an exorcist.

Of course, Soap always tells them they're idiots and continues as normal. Behind the scenes, he's laughing his ass off because everyone thinks his boyfriend is actually a ghost haunting him. Ghost loves it because he likes feeling like a cryptid for Soap's online fans and gets to establish himself in Soap's life without needing to really make himself known.

One day a photo gets leaked (maybe by them, maybe not) of Ghost being normal with Soap, the two of them smiling with their arms around each other, maybe even a wedding photo, and people go nuts. Soap just refused to acknowledge his weird ass boyfriend in the back of his videos for years, like the chaotic asshole he is.

[lifetimeoftired]

I think my favorite version of Dead on Main is when Danny actually isn't hot. Not like, 'ugly, but literally just the most average looking Some Guy dude while Jason is a solid 11.

Nobody judges Jason exactly, but they are very 'why', especially when Danny just kinda, does his cryptid shit in the weirdest dorkiest way possible. He glitches out both himself and the cameras and his eyes glow with the fangies in front of people and then immediately trips. His extremely cringe one liners based off the opponent of the day (Danny and mr freeze are forcibly separated after they spent a six hour long pun-off). Danny will say the single most out of pocket most traumatic thing you've ever heard in your life that's somehow still really fucking funny and is he joking??? You never know. And he's not even hot or sexy in a dangerous vampire way he acts like bigfoot but he got caught on camera with his bare ass hanging out and a fish in his mouth.

Everyone is So Confused. Even the batfam and the Outlaws who know Jason is also kind of a huge dork himself are very 'that one? really?'. And every time Danny walks in to talk to Jason about killing the scary bug in his room or 'do you wanna go to bat/nasty burger and watch me eat my weight in fries' or 'hey how much blood is a human supposed to be able to consume before it gets weird?' with zero context and Jason always replies 'on god I need to fuck him'.

Very Jessica and Roger Rabbit or Mortisha and Gomez energy with them.

[probablybadrpgideas]

Number of Goblins, ranked

One Goblin - That's just a goblin. He's probably just getting his groceries or something. Leave him alone, you asshole.

Ten Goblins -- That's a fairly normal amount of goblins. There's generally around ten goblins in any given situations. They're just here for aesthetic, so you know it's a fantasy world. Remember to tip them when you leave.

One Hundred Goblins -- Ok this is too many goblins, but this is a reasonable amount of too many goblins. Like, this is maybe an army of goblins or something? My point is that they're probably here for a good reason. Best not to mess with them, they're likely load-bearing in some way.

One Thousand Goblins -- This is probably a goblin town, in which case this is really more a case of One Human, which is a completely different list only available on goblintube. If not, all these goblins are lost. Return them to the goblin town. The orcs are worried.

One Million Goblins -- A million goblins? I'm not sure I've even seen a million things in my life , and now there's a million goblins? That's, like, all the goblins. Why are you at a convention of all the goblins? Are you a goblin? Actually, no, that would make sense. Yeah, that's probably what's going on here. Sorry you had to find out this way.

One Billion Goblins -- Ok, look, at this point you have clearly been sent to a future time where humanity is extinct and goblins have inherited the earth. I can think of no other explanation for a billion goblins. This sadly means that you're the weirdo, and you have to go be a cryptid now. At least you can find a phone and read the goblin creepypastas about you.

One Trillion Goblins -- How? What is happening? This is more goblins then there are birds, and they'll all in your house? How is your house this big? Wait, forget the goblins, how is your house this big? Are the goblins here to guillotine you? Probably! Move out of your stupid mansion and let the goblins have it, you weird rich bird-hoarding freak.

One Quadrillion Goblins -- One quadrillion? I'm only like 80% sure that's even a real number! Luckily, you won't have to deal with a quadrillion goblins for long, because soon they'll collapse together under their gravity, forming a far more manageable single planet-sized goblin. Picard's not gonna be happy about this one!

More Goblins -- Fuck off, you do not have more then a quadrillion goblins. Why are you lying? Are you worried I won't like you if you don't claim to have an implausible number of goblins? Don't worry. Your worth is not dependent on your goblin numbers. Go back to the actual number of goblins secure in the fact I love you, no matter how few goblins you have <3

[elodieunderglass]

hi! i was just wondering if you’re getting a piece of this pie. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/voidrealmminis/rise-of-the-eldertubbies?ref=profile_saved_projects_live

Oh my goodness! Haha thanks for showing me! And no, of course, this guy is still selling my dream while claiming it’s totally nothing to do with me. I hadn’t heard about it so thank you.

For those just joining us, here is the saga of the elder teletubbies:

1. in 2017 I posted a dream I had on Tumblr. In the dream I discovered that the childish teletubbies shown on BBC’s Teletubbies are merely the children of a species that grows up to be forest cryptids as adults. The post contained a detailed character description explaining how the children’s simple antennae become more complex antlers; their coats become thicker hair; their eldritch screens are unknowable; here, look:

The adult Teletubbies have more branching, complex antlers and shaggy coats. They are less brightly coloured. They are terrifyingly large. Their strangely human faces, emerging from the thick fur, are unquestionably adult; remote, serene, reproachful. Their television screens are glitchy, esoteric and unknowable. They are cryptids whose public exploitation has undermined their rarity and their strange, alien dignity.

That’s a pretty clear description.

2. The post quickly gained attention and many people drew art, made sculptures, designed in-depth character concepts, and even made DnD character sheets and entries with detailed notes. It was 2017. The post got over 90k notes. It had an extremely clear description of the cryptid in it. This wasn’t at all obscure.

3. The post and four pieces of the concept art, including the first piece by were screencapped and posted on r/tumblr. The post included this art by the now-deactivated @finoliatav which is, I think, the first piece of art. Most screencaps don’t show that it’s animated! Once you see it you can no longer pretend that any more work needs to be done in designing these characters, really - they’re all variations on a very clear theme.

4. A guy called Jars started drawing the BBC Teletubbies as adult Teletubbies. He noted on Reddit that his inspiration for the first one was the r/tumblr post but after that, he considered it entirely his own creative work. He drew each of the 4 BBC Teletubbies as adults using my character description and wrote a little story about how his character had stumbled upon them in the woods. He’s a good artist and his work went viral on Reddit and instagram. Those places being separate from Tumblr by the walls of the enclosure, they quickly believed the Jars was being highly original and praised him for it.

5. jars got carried away by his fame and started merchandising for all he’s worth. He’s selling elder teletubbies placemats. He got a collaborator to help him make and sell plushies.

6. Plushies of my character design applied to BBC characters. Jars sells them. To people. Who buy them. He sells these.

7. I think this is like… his job.

8. It has been years of this. I don’t think he has actually come up with anything else to sell by himself. But given that he now has millions upon millions of views on platforms I don’t use, let alone dominate (Instagram, YouTube, Reddit, TikTok) he seems to have fully subscribed to the idea that this is his THING.

9. After a while I wrote him a friendly email expressing that since my original dream was very much about discomfort with how the teletubbies were being exploited, I didn’t mind him selling his own art but that I wasn’t happy with him selling plushes based on my writing.

10. He wrote back along the lines of it all being his original intellectual property and absolutely nothing to do with me, etc, so jog on and don’t interfere.

11. I’m not entirely sure where the original intellectual property is when taking BBC characters and drawing them according to someone else’s detailed description of how to “evolve” them (branching antlers, shaggy coats, eldritch screens, serene adult human faces) especially having drawn them after seeing four separate detailed reference photos to base your own drawings on; especially when they’re the existing BBC characters from the show and not even your own. Like, Jars, you were given an entire detailed brief, several sets of references, an entire concept and a television show: the only artistic choices made here were to pick up your own personal pen and do the drawing. You have never deviated from my description, which you did not come up with yourself in any way. But okay Jars. You did some real intellectual heavy lifting here, this is Intellectual Property suddenly, and I guess this is your day job!

12. I myself actually have a day job, am capable of generating lots of other original material just for funsies, have never asked you guys for money, and I’m not generally huge jerk I don’t think. Also, I’m uncomfortable but have never been clear on how to stop him - I don’t think I can. So I don’t do much about this, apart from occasionally scream with hilarity with you guys about it.

13. Like this is the opposite of Goncharov. This is a guy making his wage on a 2017 tumblr collaborative shitpost insisting that this is the beautiful fruit of his only brain. And millions of people believe him.

14. There are now YouTube documentaries with millions of views and TikTok lore about Jars, and his lore, the Elder Teletubbies, which apparently he invented. People are making their wage talking about the history of Jars and his teletubbies lore. These documentaries are, if you can’t tell, not especially well-researched, as it is not difficult to find the original elder teletubbies art on the internet, which is all timestamped. Occasionally hilarious people from Tumblr point this out in the comments (thank you, you guys are hilarious) but the juggernaut is unstoppable!

15. Jars is now, apparently, doing a kickstarter to raise money for some kind of DnD sheets using the grown up BBC teletubbies.

16. I will point out that tumblr made and played with DnD teletubbies in 2017 for free and nobody had to pay $3000, but again. The juggernaut is unstoppable.

I have never, ever known what to do about this guy.

I have always been open to advice but genuinely never been able to articulate how it “damages” me, apart from ethical discomfort about how much I hate my writing being monetised by other people, especially when it was about my discomfort with exploitation. The juggernaut is unstoppable though. He fully intends to get thousands of dollars from this. He almost certainly will!

[puppetmaster13u]

Meme Prompts 14

[bats-and-the-birds]

I made a post involving young/feral/perceived cryptid Dick Grayson and someone tagged something about Barry Allen losing his mind when this terrifying child befriends his nephew and I have NOT stopped thinking about this since.

Because like, imagine you're Barry Allen. You've been doing this hero thing for a while, and you've seen a lot of things, but now your nephew has gotten himself wrapped up in this too, and goddamnit, you're worried because you know this life isn't easy.

Then he makes a friend - Ollie's boy, Roy Harper - and you breathe a little bit easier, because you know that however rough this life is, it's worse without friends. Besides, it's sweet. They're young boys, and they roughhouse, and tell stupid jokes, and play video games together sometimes. It's nice to see Wally just be a kid with someone that he doesn't have to hide from. And, yeah, sure, they get into trouble sometimes, pull pranks that go too far, get themselves in danger because they think they can take on something they can't, but it's still a net positive, because you need friends in this line of work, and that's exactly what they've found.

And you think about Robin. Not often, but you do think about him. Because you know nothing about him, and you don't want to, but he still has the face of a boy that's younger than your nephew. You wonder if he has friends.

But really, you don't think about him that much. You don't want to. He's freaky, and generally, thinking too hard about anything to do with the Bat is inadvisable.

Then there's a fight. A big one. You don't even really know who's fighting on your side until everything has cleared. It was basically the entire Justice League, no one dead, but a few injuried. And your nephew's there too. And Roy. And Robin.

No one really goes near Robin, ever. It was an unspoken rule, of sorts, and you're pretty sure it's just because everyone's scared of messing with Batman's little bird, though whether that was due to fear of Batman or the bird himself, you're not sure.

But Wally doesn't seem to know this. Wally doesn't seem to care. He runs up to Robin with a big grin on his face and grabs his hand, trying to tug him over to where Roy was patching up some injuries.

You notice that Robin doesn't go with him immediately. In fact, he looks confused. But if you know anything about your nephew, he's persistent, and eventually Robin lets himself be dragged over. Roy seems unconcerned, but you can tell that the other adults in the vicinity shift uncomfortably, unsure of what they should do, or if they should do anything at all.

It doesn't last long anyway. Batman calls for Robin and he bounds off, but you notice he stops and hesitantly waves a gloved hand at your nephew before he leaves. Wally waves back.

You don't think much of it.

Then, the next time you and Ollie catch Wally and Roy fighting something they shouldn't be, Robin's right there with them. It's the first time you've seen Robin without Batman in close proximity, and you think he looks just a little bit more human. He smiles sheepishly with the other boys when they're chastised for fighting things that they shouldn't, and you watch Roy ruffle his hair like there's nothing to be worried about. You're still worried.

You still don't think much of it though. Even when Robin's there with the two of them the next time, and the time after that.

But then, oh dear god, he's in your house. You don't actually notice him at first, for two whole hours, because it's normal to see Wally and Roy sitting on the couch and playing video games. You just don't realize that there's a third head in between them until you sit down in an adjacent armchair to see what they're playing, because Robin is just short enough that his head doesn't peak over the back of the couch.

You have to blink a few times to make sure what you're seeing is real, because nestled in between the two slightly older heroes in their civilian attire is Robin, sans his gloves, cape, and boots, but otherwise still in full uniform with his mask still firmly in place, holding a video game controller and laughing while Wally elbows his side to try to make him lose.

And you just sit back in your chair and stare, because what the hell are you even supposed to do in this situation? Your nephew has decided to make friends with Batman's goddamn son - the boy that you've seen sneak up on League members with super hearing, break a grown man's femur, and somehow fade into shadows in a bright yellow cape - and it worked. And now he's playing video games on your couch. And you don't know what to do about that.

[tubbytarchia]

Etho doodles in which I let my inner dinosaur nerd take over 😔 and also have no idea how to shade

Get it cause he's old and washed up haha... ok but actual raptor Etho hybrid justification below cut

To be honest the main reason was because I really wanted a hybrid in the mix who wasn't some furry creature and a reptile or amphibian or smth instead. Etho still ended up feathered but whatever it's close enough! But for ACTUAL reasoning:

He does feel damn ancient, like an old deity of the mcyt space that no one can dislike. Dinosaurs are the same!! They're old but still thought of with great fascination and fondness, everyone loves dinosaurs...

Dinosaurs are ever so mysterious, as many advancements as we make there's still so much we don't know. Just as we know jackshit about mister Kakashi skin man. Also, there are so many incomplete skeletons out there. I didn't have a particular species in mind for Etho, because where's the mystery in that? He can be one of those 5% skeleton 95% speculation dinosaurs like this guy!! Missing jaw and all

"I'm a runner, not a protector" - so, a raptor, or more specifically the Dromaeosauridae family, which literally has "running/runner" in its name

But! I'm always a fan of stuff going against its nature, especially in this case! Etho states he's not a runner yet protects his allies rather fiercely even in total silence. Eg refusing to kill Cleo in SL or to give away Tango's location during the LimL manhunt, same for Grian in SL. He was a bit flaky in 3L I think? And he only started to have genuine care for allies in LL with Bdubs? Though he is still very much a runner in many cases like during the LL Wither fight. Research also strongly suggests that most if not all raptors were solitary hunters, and the way I see Etho (through my shamefully limited watchtime of his POVs...) he feels a lot like someone who ultimately only trusts himself at the start even if he's pleasant and allying with others, and doesn't seem to think he can carry his weight in groups though he doesn't voice this a lot. That's just how Etho is, very composed, but it feels like there's an insecurity there, showcased especially in SL but again I haven't seen almost any of his POVs in full so maybe I'm talking out of my ass!! Sorry ethogirls I'm only a sidegig ethogirl myself... But yeah tldr to me he gives off the vibe of an otherwise solitary animal struggling to find 100% sure footing in a pack. In whichever ways he does go against his nature, its not usually made a show of

At the mention of a raptor, a lot of people will probably think of the glamourized Jurassic Park Velociraptors. But those awesome guys from the movies are actually the size of chickens. In general though, dinosaurs tend to be a bit.. exaggerated in media, despite how inherently fascinating they already are. And I think it fits Etho because we all know how the Lifers seem to fear and mancrush on him when he's just some dork with perfect capability to become pathetic at a moment's notice. Still, he's a clearly skilled player and still respected without question Etho's not some killer machine like some people make dinosaurs out to be. He's just a fellow creature fulfilling his role in the ecosystem 👍

dinosaurs are cool

The hook-like sickle claws on the feet... something something fishing rod

I swear I'm not turning all my Lifers into hybrids I'm not!! Still plenty normal humans in the mix I swear....... But Etho is such a radical dude, I really wanted to do something more for him. The whole Kitsune thing that I often see associated with him is really cool. I don't actually know the reasoning for it but I assume something something naruto, but also, him being this ancient mythical cryptid who people know so little about, you know? It makes SO much sense. So anyway I turned him into a dinosaur instead rawr

As a herbivore advocate I also considered stuff like the triceratops (known for how they protect themselves and their own) but nah the raptor symbolism...

[ckret2]

Chapter 66 of that fic about human Bill but he's not in this chapter so forget about him: Ford and Dipper go cryptid hunting!

This is pretty much a standalone chapter so if somehow you stumbled on this without seeing the rest of the fic, u can just, read it by itself as a standalone Dipper and Ford adventure. It's funny. Promise.

####

The camera turned on to reveal Dipper, illuminated sunset orange and cast in heavy shadows, holding the camera out at arm's length. "Welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained, anomaly #175: the Fremont Nightwigglers!" He held up a paper title card in his free hand. "I'm Dipper Pines, and today I'm honored to introduce our special guest star—" he turned the camera around to focus on Ford from behind, "—the one and only Dr. Stanford Pines, PhD times twelve—"

Ford laughed self-consciously. "Dipper, nobody's going to recognize my name outside of a few highly specialized academic fields—"

"—the scientist who developed the Theory of Weirdness—"

"That paper isn't even ready for peer review yet, and I can't take all the credit—"

"—and the coolest dimension-hopping monster-fighting mystery-investigating great uncle in the world!"

Ford paused thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll take that one."

"Tonight, we're on the trail of the Fremont Nightwigglers." The recording cut to CCTV footage from a much higher-budget cryptid-hunting show (which Dipper had recorded by aiming the camera at the TV). The footage showed two marshmallow-like creatures that seemed to consist solely of heads, long legs, and feet—smooth, ghostly white, and featureless except for black eyes. They wore denim jeans that covered their bodies from ankles to waists, and their legs seemed to bend jointlessly, like an octopus's arms or an elephant's trunk. "These weird armless creatures have been seen up and down the west coast states, leaving behind a wave of jeans thefts at clothing stores; but by the time local law enforcement has ruled out any human suspects, the true culprits are always long gone."

The recording cut back to Dipper, who'd taken the lead so he could turn around the camera and aim it at both himself and Ford. "Based on investigative research done by Dr. Pines in the 80s, we believe the Nightwigglers have a migratory route several years long that passes through California, Oregon, Washington, and Canada. More research is needed to find out if they travel as far as Alaska or Mexico. Locals believe each Nightwiggler creates an individual burrow around a communal gathering spot to hide in during the day, and at night they assemble in the communal spot to travel or forage in nearby towns."

Ford threw in, "Based on what the townspeople told me about their habits, they've been in Gravity Falls much longer than usual. It typically takes them a week or two to pass through the area, but this year there have been sightings for more than a month. Perhaps we'll find out why."

"And thanks to a hot tip from an in-the-know local"—the recording cut to a few seconds of footage of Wendy proving she could do a handstand on the split-rail fence around the Mystery Shack—"we know which assembly spot they're currently camping around! Tonight, we're trying to get the first deliberate footage of a Nightwiggler..." Dipper lowered the camera and turned toward Ford, "Hey, what'll we call a group of them? A flock? Herd? Meeting? If we're the first investigators to officially document the species, we get to come up with the name , right?"

Ford considered the question. "What about a wobble of Nightwigglers? Since their legs are so... wobbly."

"Sure, that works."

"Is this really your 175th episode?" Ford asked. "I've missed quite a few."

"Ye—well..." Dipper lowered the camera. It recorded his shoes as he walked. "So far I've got a list of 175 anomalies I want to do an episode on, but I've only recorded and posted thirty-something. I think you've seen them all except the two I've done this summer." He sighed. "I'm... kinda disappointed by it, honestly."

"Why? You should be proud of your work so far! You're the only person in the world who's caught footage of the Hide Behind."

"By accident."

"Because you learned how to identify its call, chased it through half the forest, and were prepared with the right equipment to record it. That wasn't luck, Dipper—that was your hard work."

"I guess," Dipper said grudgingly. "I just... wanted to have a lot more produced by now."

"Wh—You started these last June? That's about one every two weeks. That's a very impressive output."

"I made most of them last summer, I hardly did any over the last school year or this summer."

"You've been focusing on your studies, that's good."

"Yeah, but what about this summer? All I've done so far is borrow some of Robbie's music video footage to make an episode about zombies and record some footage I haven't edited yet about Pacifica's alpaca thief. I didn't even get any footage of the haunted doll crane game before it disappeared. Most of the time I've been just... hiding in Soos's room playing Bloodcraft: Overdeath"—(under his breath Ford muttered "Blood-craft over death?")—"or hanging out with Wendy and her friends, or helping Soos with the Mystery Shack, or just trying to avoid..." He trailed off, suddenly conscious of the camera still aimed at the ground. It had started recording footprints drying in the mud after the recent rain: soft indents like the pads of paws, but with no distinct toes, about the size and length of human feet. Dipper lifted the camera to better record the trail they were walking down.

"Well... there's nothing wrong with taking a break during the summer," Ford said. "Especially considering that your last summer was... quite a bit more exciting than most kids'—"

"That's just it!" Dipper said. "Last summer I did so much! I investigated your disappearance, I filled half of your third journal, I helped stop the apocalypse, I wrote a book with Mabel about solving mysteries and doing fun stuff, I recorded like twenty Guides to the Unknown... Compared to that, this summer I feel like I'm—falling behind."

"Falling behind what?"

"I don't know. But—I just—I... feel like..." He trailed off with a frustrated sigh. "I don't know."

Ford offered, "Maybe, like you're not living up to your own potential?"

"Yes! That's it," Dipper said. "I'm not trying to grow up too fast, I'm just worried I'll grow up before I've done all the stuff I'm supposed to do now. Like I'm already running out of time."

"Hmm..." Ford let out a long, thoughtful sigh. "Dipper, I'm probably the wrong person to be giving this advice, considering that I'm not exactly... the paragon of moderation when it comes to pursuing professional ambitions. But—remember that you're only thirteen. Right now, you don't need to be worried about graduating valedictorian and starting up an anomaly-hunting show and doing groundbreaking research into previously-unknown strange and wondrous creatures," Ford said. "You just need to focus on graduating valedictorian first. That's all I did with my high school years, and after that I still managed to rack up multiple PhDs before age 30. You've got plenty of time!" He said this with the confidence of a man who didn't realize having his life derailed by a manipulative alien villain was the only reason he didn't burn out hard by 1984. "Outside of that, just... worry about being a kid."

"Yeah. I guess you're right. Thanks, Grunkle Ford," Dipper said. "I keep worrying, though. I keep thinking, what if I'm wasting all my time on stuff that... just... doesn't matter? What if nothing I'm doing is actually important?"

Ford was silent a moment. "That's... a very existential question for your age. How long have you been worrying—"

Dipper hissed, "Grunkle Ford!" He jerked his camera up. "Is that fire?!" There was a faint orange glow in the distance between the trees.

"I think it is!"

Dipper whispered, "That's where I found the Nightwigglers' abanadoned campsite last time!"

"Did you see any signs that they knew how to start fires? Remains of a campfire?"

"I didn't notice anything."

"It could be a Scampfire..."

As quietly as they could, Dipper and Ford edged through the trees, Dipper all the while pointing the camera toward the light, until they found a narrow gap between two trees from which they could peer into the clearing.

There were three or four dozen Nightwigglers milling about in little clusters. Several had lit torches—sturdy sticks with the ends wrapped in fabric—which they carried by sticking the ends of the torches into their jeans' pockets.

"Dipper, look at the tops of their torches," Ford hissed. "Is that shredded denim?"

The camera zoomed in on the nearest torchbearing Nightwiggler. "I think so."

"We already knew they wore clothing—but they can make tools, too? How advanced are they..."

Ford trailed off as the clustered Nightwigglers separated, spreading out evenly into several rings. As the camera recorded, they began emitting a synchronized muffled humming; and then they began dancing, kicking their legs and turning in circles together. "Whoa," Dipper whispered. "Is this some kind of ritual?"

"What's its purpose?" Ford whispered back. "Recreation? Religion? Some sort of cultural event—?"

"Hold on. I think I recognize the song."

Ford and Dipper fell silent, watching in silence as the dance repeated a couple of times.

The Nightwigglers were doing the Hokey Pokey.

"Fascinating." The camera lurched sideways, and then turned toward Ford. Ford had stolen Dipper's journal from out of his vest pocket and was hastily taking notes on a blank page. "I had no idea Nightwiggler culture was so influenced by human culture. An hour ago, we didn't even know Nightwigglers have a culture. When could they have observed and learned the Hokey Pokey? It's not exactly a nighttime dance—do they spy on humans during the day?"

Dipper said, "What if we learned the dance from Nightwigglers?"

Ford stopped writing, looked up, and stared at Dipper, mind blown.

Dipper jerked the camera back toward the Nightwigglers as they filed out of the clearing. "Hey! Where are they going now?"

Dipper and Ford waited until the last Nightwiggler had left; and then they quietly followed.

####

After several minutes of silence except for the sound of footsteps, Ford said, "Are we headed toward Mabel's Fault?"

Dipper groaned. "I got enough of this place last week."

"Agreed." 

"Hey, you know Bill said we should rename it 'Bill's Fault'?"

Ford huffed. "Did he really? I don't believe it."

"Yeah. He tried to play it off like, 'oOOoh, I just want creEDit—'"

"That sounds like him—"

They came to a stop as the camera spied the Nightwigglers standing in the clearing around the fault, then they quickly moved off the path into the brush and crept closer. "What are they doing?" Dipper asked as they inched up to the tree line.

"I don't know—they're packed too tightly together for me to see."

"I've got an idea. Hold this." The camera bounced as Dipper passed it to Ford, who watched as Dipper climbed up one of the pine trees around the clearing. 

"Careful! There aren't a lot of low branches that can hold your weight."

"It's okay, Wendy showed me how to do this." Dipper held out his hand for the camera.

Ford passed it up to him. "What do you see?"

The camera foused on Mabel's Fault. "The Nightwigglers closest to the fault are taking off their jeans, ripping them into two separate legs, and... tossing them in the fault? Have you ever heard of this?"

"Never."

"Like a dozen have done it so far."

"Perhaps that's why they have to steal so many pairs of pants? But why..."

Dipper gasped. Tiny Nightwigglers had begun squirming out of the fault, each wearing a single denim pant leg, crawling around like inchworms with half the pant leg trailing behind them. The bigger Nightwigglers picked up the little ones with their feet and swaddled them in the excess fabric. "They're—I think they're baby Nightwigglers! Coming out of the fault!"

"Amazing! Is this how they reproduce?" Ford asked. "Is that why they travel the west coast—are they following the San Andreas Fault and the volcanoes in the Pacific Northwest?"

"Maybe that's why they've been in town so long," Dipper said. "Mabel's Fault wasn't here the last time they passed through."

"We'll have to find out what other towns they stay in the longest. How far is Fremont from the fault line—?"

"Hey," Dipper said, "A bunch more Nightwigglers took their jeans off. They're tying them in a circle." One of the torchbearer Nightwigglers knelt down and bowed forward, setting the jeans ring on fire; and it was tossed into the fault. The Nightwigglers that weren't carrying infants formed a circle and began Hokey Pokeying toward the fault.

"That definitely looks like a ritual," Ford said, "but why? To celebrate the births...?"

The ground rumbled. Dipper gasped and slipped several feet down the tree before he caught himself. When he refocused the camera, Mabel's Fault was several feet wider, and a fiery glow was rising up from within.

An enormous Nightwiggler, fifteen feet tall, climbed out of the fault. It wore a crown of flaming denim and tattered pants formed by stitching together many pairs of decades-old jeans. The Nightwigglers bowed down.

"Good lord," Ford breathed. "What is that? Did they summon it, or—or was it always down there?"

The giant Nightwiggler watched regally as its subjects danced around it. As they spun around and completed another repetition of the Hokey Pokey—that's what it's all a-BOUT—the giant punctuated the end of the dance with a ground-shaking stomp.

Dipper lost his grip on the tree. He and the camera crashed to the ground with a yelp. 

"Dipper! Are you alright?!"

"Ow... fine, probably just bruised."

The camera caught Ford kneeling to help Dipper sit up, and then Dipper grabbed the camera again as he stood. He pointed it back at the clearing.

Every single Nightwiggler, babies and giant included, was staring at them with wide black eyes.

Ford said, "Uh oh."

The giant let out a bellow like a muffled hunting horn.

The Nightwigglers charged.

Dipper and Ford ran away through the brush, screaming.

####

Dipper pointed the camera at his face. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks and arms were covered in small branch scrapes. "Still works," he reported to Ford.

"Great," Ford said. "That thing's hardy."

The camera jerked as Dipper tried to set it on a tree stump.

"Well, we got away with our lives," he said. "But... not without some losses."

He got the camera settled and backed up. He was wearing his vest zipped up around his hips like a skirt. Ford's trench coat was conspicuously buttoned up, and his legs were bare between his coat and boots. They both looked sheepish.

Ford said, "We've acquired some invaluable anthropological data, though."

"I'm calling this investigation a triumph," Dipper said.

Ford offered a hand. "High six!"

In the background, a skinny-legged Nightwiggler wearing Dipper's shorts darted through the trees.

####

(It's about time Dipper get a little personal attention. Hope you enjoyed and I look forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!)

[notyourhetloki]

Can I request headcanons for Logan x GN Reader x Wade with Reader who's oblivious that both of them like them romantically please?

Logan x oblivious!Reader x Wade

Reader: they/them (gender neutral)

/Logan x Reader x Wade/

A/N: Heey! I know you asked for headcanons but I wrote it as a little fic... hope you don't mind!

Tags: SFW fic, poly relationship, oblivious!reader, Wade is desperate, they are NOT normal.

—

You should know by now that they liked you... right? But it was hard when they were so fricking cryptid about it! All they did was look at you longingly and compliment you and flirt with you! How were you supposed to know?

Jokes aside, you genuinely thought they acted like that around everyone... especially Wade, the guy was a flirt and couldn't be taken seriously.

As for Logan, you thought he was just being polite. Calling you pet names wasn't necessarily a way to flirt, after all.

Besides, they were already in a relationship with each other! That's what everyone imagined, at least.... so you weren't expecting them to open up a space for you in their lives.

But then you started receiving notes in the mail, written in red ink and saying things like: YOU'RE AMAZING / GIVE US A CHANCE / YOU'RE SO PRETTY IT'S HURTING MY FEELINGS / (Y/N) WE REALLY LIKE YOU.

You were a little scared at first, but soon would discover it was actually Wade sending you those! You figured it out one day when you caught him slipping one card into your mailbox, Logan was beside him and tried justifying the act. "It was his idea."

You smiled sweetly at them as they awkwardly made their way to you, Wade opening his mouth to mutter some words. "I just wanted to make sure you knew..."

"Knew what?" You asked in disbelief, still not sure of what he meant.

They looked at each other, confused at your confusion. "That we like you, (y/n)... I thought it was obvious!" Said Wade.

"But I already knew that! I like you too, boys." You would try to respond, but Logan carefully grabbed your hand and brought it towards his chest.

"I don't think you understand, beautiful... we really like you. We... want you." He said looking into your eyes as Wade shook his head, confirming.

"Ooh..." Realization hit you like a brick, they DID actually want you! Crazy right? How all those hints flew over your head... now everything made sense! "Oh, boys... you have no idea how happy that makes me! I-I didn't realize, I thought-"

"It's alright, love." Logan squeezed your hand gently, looking over at Wade and complaining. "See? All we had to do was tell them directly like normal people."

"Oh, peanut... you know better than anyone that we're not normal!" Wade whispered, turning at you and grabbing your other hand. You smiled at them and as they smiled back, Wade continued. "But I have a feeling that they don't mind..."

—