#[also exactly why i am in this current situation LMAO.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

looking at the dialogue i wrote up for the next comic strip and the sheer amount of sketches (sketches. not even the lineart itself) to go along with it........ at this point i may just have to start writing fanfiction. it would be a lot less tedious methinks

[musical-chick-13]

This is mostly a joke, but the most “???” thing for me in this last chapter was Yoshida asking why Asa would talk out loud to herself, like last time I checked, I’m pretty sure I don’t have a War Devil living in my head, but I sure as hell talk aloud to myself at every conceivable opportunity.

[targaryenluvs]

— BEST LIFE

pairings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (past), harvey specter x fem!juniorpartner!reader (present)

summary: you’d once been apart of the bau team, but after a situation and a falling out with your boyfriend you moved on. what happens when the bau needs your help on a case, which your boyfriend harvey is also assisting on?

warnings: angsty, asshole harvey cause duh, jealousy (spencer) kisses, cute harvey

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this literally sprouted in my mind and i just needed to write it lmao, if you haven’t watched suits or criminal minds go right now‼️ they’re both my husbands 😋

when jessica had called you into her office, you’d been calm. apparently one of your cases, which had you and harvey working together, was now of fbi interest. your client was currently suing a company for faulty wiring in his home, which caused it to burn down. and it was apparently not the case at all, the home was suspected to be tied into a serial arsonist.

what you didn’t expect was for your client to be accused of being the arsonist.

“you’re sitting here,”

“uh-huh.”

“telling me,”

“yup.”

“that i’m supposed to believe that richard jeena, the fifty three year old little man, is a serial arsonist?”

you shut the file infront of you, meeting harvey’s eye, “sweetheart?” he uncrossed his legs, leaning forwards with a sweet smile, “yes?” you leaned forwards as well, “that, is exactly what i’m telling you.” harvey leaned back into his chair, disbelief riddling his face.

“and the fbi is flying here?” you nodded along, “fbi agents?” you nodded again, “probably field agents or whatever they’re called. they’ll sit in on the trial, survey the scenes, collect evidence and all.” the familiar clicking of donna’s heels brought a smile to your face, “profilers.”

your heart dropped with one word, “what’d you say?” donna made her way to the two of you, plopping herself down in the chair next to you, “it’s those fbi profilers. yknow, they look at the room and can tell you if he’s left or right handed, blonde, mommy issues and all. nice little packaged criminal profile in seconds.” you couldn’t help correcting her, having dealt with your fair share of assumptions in your years as a profiler.

“that’s not how it works,” harvey swiveled in his chair as donna looked your way, “oh?” harvey smirked as you sighed, “that’s not how it works, we don’t just walk into a room and have it speak to us. we survey the place, fresh eyes and open minds. we look for the things that everyone else seems to miss. we put ourselves in the minds of the criminals themselves, to get a better understanding of them, why they did it and all. you work your way back, start from the victim maybe, see where they’ve been, what they did in the last week, who they talk to. sometimes the killers in their personal circle but not always. every case is different, we try our best to provide an accurate, unbiased profile.”

“i want to take you on my desk, right now.” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriends words as donna stared intently, “we. you said ‘we’, as if you know what they do and their job. oh my god, you use to be one. that’s the job you had before coming here! you have a degree in criminal justice, and you said your last job you were at for what, seven years?”

“i graduated high school early, entered harvard at a young age, graduated, entered the fbi at the same time as a— friend. was also studying law, sat the exam in new york since it’s where i wanted to be. finished up at harvard, i was mid to late twenties when i left, wound up here and am now a junior partner, capiche?”

“could just say your age.” mike stood by the door with a wad of files in his hand, “i’d rather die, mike.” harvey laughed, “please don’t incentivise my lovely girlfriend to killing herself mike.”

“as nice as it is to see you all bonding, and trust me, it hits me right in the heart, jessica wants yourself and y/n in the conference room.” louis spoke from the door as you stood up, “first of all, trust with you is fickle, second, tell it to hit you in the face next time lou.” you smacked harvey’s arm as he held his arms up, “friendly fire, i’ll put it out later.” you shoved him by his back before smiling at louis, “i’m sorry about him, he’s not a big fan of the fbi.” louis nodded as he followed you, “duly noted.”

“she’s right, damn pigs.” harvey joked as you approached the conference room, “your highness,” you grinned, “you never treat me so nicely when we’re at home harvey.” he held his hand over his heart, “now don’t lie sweetheart, i’m as nice as mike.” the snort that left your lips had harvey doubling over, “oh please, nice as mike? you wish.”

your giggles were drained from your throat as you stared at half of your old team.

derek morgan, emily prentiss, penelope garcia & spencer reid. the last name, and face you’d still not looked at yet. thankfully, harvey noticed your tenseness, “y/n? sweetheart, you alright?” there it was, that word, sweetheart. spencer couldn’t help but wonder, was it just a word? you always use to call him it, before you dated, teasing of course.

“yeah, i’m fine harv.” he nodded, even if he didn’t believe you he could always ask later on. pulling out his and yours chairs, you sat next to one another. “harvey specter & y/n l/n?” emily questioned as you nodded, “the one and only. and then there’s y/n.” harvey leaned back in his chair, whilst derek stared him down.

what an ass. is what he wanted to say, it was also what he assumed emily was thinking. “emily.” she glanced over at you, surprised at you using her name, “it’s nice to see you all. how’ve you been?” and the bewildered expression was wiped clean off your face, no remnant left. you were a damn lawyer, if there was one thing you’d learned, it was to keep a straight face.

penelope smiled, “we’ve been good, y/n. but we miss you, back home. you’re a lawyer now huh?” you grinned, “the one and only.” harvey squeezed your hand, you squeezed back. “youngest junior partner, ever. my dream. just hoping to make it to senior partner soon, take the title of youngest out from under this guy. i’m happy here, i hope you are too. but down to business.”

and for the next few hours, you’d sat and listened. overlooking the case files, giving statements, reviewing security footage from surrounding houses. at some point mike ended up in the room, having met with your client and being harvey’s associate.

you’d had the pleasure of introducing spencer and mike, the two undeniably similar. you felt comfortable, even betting with penelope that if they touched the world would implode.

“and how much would he loose?”

“127,478.23.” mike and spencer rushed out as the rest of you fought to suppress your smiles, “well y/n, seems like we’ve got a genius-off.” derek laughed as the two men looked towards you, “don’t worry i’ll still love you mike.” mike scoffed at your words, “what makes you think i’d loose?”

“because i know you, and i know reid. trust me, you’d loose.”

reid. not spencer, spence, sweetheart. none of the above, you’d used his last name. as if he was nothing more than a colleague.

“okay, we’ve been here for far too long. and as much as i’d like to sit here and slowly rot, i’d rather do that at the restaurant i have booked for dinner with two lovely ladies. y/n and i have a trial date tomorrow, 8.00am. i think, we bring him along, show him what’s to happen if he doesn’t confess, than toast victory champagne when said confession rolls through. how’s that sound?” if derek’s grin was any indicator, besides a big fat yes?

spencer wanted to puke, ‘lovely ladies?’ multiple women? this man was insufferable. you gathered yourself and harvey’s files, a hand gestured towards you, the last file in said hand. “thanks reid.” he smiled, “no problem-o.” your eyebrows furrowed, “never change do you?” spencer didn’t have time to respond, his brain was too busy blowing a fuse as harvey opened the door for you. “ready for dinner lovely lady?” they all heard harvey ask as you nodded, the four watched as you walked out, his hand on your back as he pecked you on the lips.

“reid, you alright?” derek’s hand rested on his shoulder, “i’m fine, why wouldn’t i be fine? don’t we have places to be? hotch would want to know their on our side, that they reviewed all the information. they’ll help us get a confession out of him.” derek sighed, “because you just saw your ex, who you haven’t seen in years. the one you never got over, happily living in new york as comfortable as possible. a successful business woman and lawyer, happily in a relationship.”

spencer shook his head, “you don’t know that.” emily directed a sympathetic smile his way, “we sat with them for three hours. we watched them laugh, bounce off of eachother for theories, quite literally finish eachothers sentences. order food for eachother without asking, and get their meals right. they held hands when they could, he continued to call her sweetheart. and now they’re going out to dinner.”

spencer’s shoulder dropped, they were right. he’d come here excited at the possibility of seeing you again, talking to you. maybe even beginning again with you. instead, you’re apparently with some suited up asshole. he was annoyingly sweet when it came to you though.

as if the whole three hours weren’t a slap in the face, harvey’s voice rung out through the hallway, “there’s my lovely lady!” rachel, who they’d all met earlier on, was currently guiding a young girl to harvey’s arms. “daddy!” if hearts were boats, than his was sinking. he may have had a chance beforehand, but now?

“is mommy here?” your daughter was currently situated on harvey’s hip, “why don’t you hug her and find out?” your arms were out in the open as your daughter squealed before running to you, “d’you have a fun day with rach?” she nodded her head rapidly as yourself and harvey smiled, he stood behind you, chest to back. his hand rested on your waist as the other moved aside hair from her face, before moving hair from your own.

“now, my lovely ladies, it’s time for dinner.”

lovely ladies, for once, spencer had made a mistake. harvey was going out with multiple women, but not in the way he thought. his daughter and the mother of his child, you.

his words and actions meant nothing, they would mean nothing. you were happy, so happy. you had everything you wanted, a loving marriage and man, a gorgeous family. something spencer hadn’t given you. a man who knew you could hold your own. spencer knew that too, but he couldn’t help himself back then.

right now, you were living your best life.

[toomiieimagiines]

hihihi

uhm so am i allowed to request again (i don’t wanna spam) 😭😭🙏

and if i am can u pls do a rui x hopeless romantic best friend reader (i’m totally normal about best friends to lovers lmfao)

so like the reader is always yapping about hot guys and it’s a little angsty at first because rui is thinking to himself ‘why did i have to fall inlove with someone that won’t ever choose me’ and then one day a hot guy comes up to reader and asks her out, reader is about to say yes but then she realises that she barely knew him and there was someone (rui) who had been by her side since day one and she figures out who she really loves (RUIII) so she rejects him and when rui asks why she just hugs him and says ‘because your the one i really want’ mwah mwah i feel like such a genius (i really hope this made sense lmao be prepared for a million bestie-> lovers and angst-> fluff rui requests 😼)

thank youyoyoyoyoyuuu!!

hi guys! i’m so so incredibly sorry for how inactive i have been! unfortunately, the fanfic writer curse caught up to me, and i’ve had considerably bad things happen to me! ToT

i had developed a really bad addiction after a recent episode - which may be why i’ve loved to write my characters so miserable, but they get a happy ending in the end - and have recently relapsed after a couple months. i’ve also been struggling with a lot of things, like being bullied again, pressure from theater, classes, autism, parental issues, memory of past trauma, having no friends, things like that. i’ve just been having a really hard time, so writing has been super difficult for me. i’m currently having some of the worst mental health in my life, and am un-recovering from other things i’ve had in the past too, after seeing the results of my recovery. sorry if this triggered anybody, i just needed to get this off my chest, and felt also that i should explain where i have been. you all supporting me has kept me going, and i hope you enjoy this one too! LETS END THE PITY PARTY!!!

in other - not so depressing news - here you guys go!! sorry for OOCness, obviously this is a more dramatic approach to a story! happy ending, j tried to write the inner narration differently for how you two were feeling at the time.. and ty once again for such a great idea, mama ^3^

“I don’t think I could stand to be where you don’t see me.”

If he has to sit here and listen to this one more time, he thinks he’ll go insane.

Rui Kamishiro loves you. He truly does. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his-

Never mind.

Rui loves you, but he absolutely HATES your taste in guys, and it’s driving him nuts. Nodding and agreeing can only get him so far before he wants to rip his own hair out, and tonight is no exception.

“I give up! All boys are dumb, I don’t need them!” You lament, resting your chin in your hands. It’s the same song and dance over and over. You swear off boys, you get attention, you get sucked in, and he has to pick up the pieces when it inevitably fails. How many times has he thought about how much better he would treat you now? He doesn’t know. He’d be a classical lover, he’d never speak to you the way those stupid unprincipled high school boys do.

Gross. That’s his best friend, why’d he think that? And when did he start being so self confident? He really outta look at himself in the mirror. What an egomaniac he’s turning out to be.

He shakes his head.

“You do know I’m still a boy, right?” He prods, trying to cheer you up. He knows this situation well, and he knows exactly how to make you feel better. Again he’d pull you out of this, and again he’d watch you fall in love.

He wishes you could be happy. He wishes you weren’t in love with being in love. You’re too pure for true love, love is disgusting, depraved, and unkind. You’re not anything like that.

“I know, I know, but you’re the only good one!” You point, words self-assured. “I don’t need a boyfriend, you do everything boyfriendy for me anyway!”

Ouch. Thanks a lot, that’s exactly what he needed to hear right now. He’s not gonna dwell on that last bit for now, he’ll wait until he’s home. Then he can- he doesn’t know. Cry, or something juvenile like that.

“So I’m back-up-boyfriend?” He masks himself in jest, smiling teasingly at you.

“Eh, maybe,” you snicker, “you’d definitely be cute if you weren’t my friend.”

He turns to his school work sharply, trying to mask his complete and utter despair. Ugh, why does he have to be so dramatic? His own personality makes his skin crawl with disgust and hatred, and that only makes him cringe more. He could think about how obnoxious he is all day. Maybe he should use that go home and cry pass early. He pretends to check the time, as if that isn’t all he’s been doing.

“It’s getting late, after this problem I should get going.” He mutters, scribbling some random numbers into his notebook. You yawn in response, being broken out of absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

“Ugh, I wish you didn’t have to go!” You drape an arm over his torso, trying to hold him in. He smiles fondly, wrestling to get you off of him.

“I’d have to walk home in the dark then, do you want that?” He knows you’d never let him, and he sees it immediately.

Your face looks knowing, and you let him go right away. It amuses him at first, but quickly fills him with overwhelming pity. You’re so kindhearted it makes him sick. You shouldn’t worry about someone like him, it’s bad for your health.

“Would you like me to walk home with you?!” You shoot up, the idea of him not being safe running through your head. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. How emasculating! He’s not a helpless young girl! He’s just as manly as those boys who you long for, he’s not a puppy to be walked!

God, is jealously turning him into a bigot? He shakes his head once again, this time not just to clear his thoughts. He’s absolutely not letting you walk him home, it’d be mortifying. He takes your attention belly up, you should have a break. Maybe some time to yourself for a change? God, Rui, get a grip.

“I’m fine, I don’t want you out late by yourself either,” he assures, looking at you in haste.

“Ah. You have a point.”

“I always do.” He means more to that, and he wishes he could tell you. He wants you to see that even he knows what he’s talking about. He needs you to see him, just for once. Not as a best friend, or backup boyfriend, just as a regular one. As a lover who dances in the rain, or ties your shoes

He needs to stop. He shouldn’t think about you like that. It’s lecherous.

You two exchange goodbyes, giving him a long hug (much to his horror). He hates how feverish it is it hold you like this, it makes him feel guilty. His body gets hot, his cheeks flare up, his throat feels tight- it makes him feel like a pervert, even if his thoughts are the farthest thing from lewd.

He feels that everything he thinks about you is repulsive, though.

“Be safe”’s and “See you later”’s are passed between you two, and he walks down your front steps, now completely alone. His eyes scan the damp pavement, seeing the golden hues from the sky light the boring rock. That’s how he feels about you, he decides. You’re the sun, and he’s the pavement. He humors himself by thinking that your suitors are the clouds, stopping you from shining your light for him so he can grow weeds in the cracks of his soul. That’s what these feelings are. Weeds.

He wants to live life beautifully with you, he decides. He wants to tie your shoes, he wants to twirl you as you dance.

He wishes he could be the moon. Something of consequence- of importance, but he’s just the pavement. Not the earth, not the stars, not the clouds, or rain, he’s just a man made monster who destroys nature - you - and is walked over by people who do matter.

He should quit being this way, he grumbles, it doesn’t do anybody any good to be so flowery. He’s too girly- too weak. Maybe that’s why you don’t like him. If you’re willing to date anything that moves other than him, that must mean he’s on a completely new level, huh?

That’s what dreaming gets you, Rui. Crushed dreams and embarrassment.

He lets out a pitiful sigh, kicking a pebble with his shoe. He sees a worm in a lawn which reminds him of himself, he sees a couple shopping for a new game which reminds him of you, he sees a convenience store which reminds him that he’s hungry-

His life can be so mundane sometimes, what a drag.

He’s about to reach his front door, when he steps into a puddle. It feels like an appropriate representation of his life right now. A sense of disgraceful hilarity washes over him, and he begins to laugh. He laughs a while, he laughs as he takes his shoes off, he laughs as he peels his button up down, and he laughs as he lays in his bed. How dramatic he could be some times!

He falls asleep quickly. He has a dream about being on stage and forgetting his lines.

He wakes up with a thud, he fell out of bed. How embarrassing. He decides to check his phone.

Weirdo: RUII

Weirdo: wanna hang w me 2day?? u don’t have dance time right??

Weirdo: gonna kill you. WAKE UP

Me: I’m awake, sorry!

Weirdo: finally sleeping beauty

Weirdo: wanna get a snack? i’m simply starved…

Me: When?

Weirdo: an hr maybe…

Me: Okay :) I’ll tell you when I leave.

Weirdo: kay!!

He really doesn’t feel like being social today, but he’d never pass up an opportunity to see you. He’s an obscene degenerate when it comes to you, pouncing on your attention like a sick dog. It’s mortifyingly pathetic.

He gets dressed, throwing on a boring striped sweater. It’s getting colder outside recently, and he’s always ran cold anyway. His hands are shaky and nervous as he brushes his teeth, the anxiousness to see you making his body jittery. He considers breakfast, but quickly shuts the idea down. He doesn’t want to be stressed out - at least more than he already is - when he sees you. Twitchy hands lock his door, and he gets a few feet away before he double checks that he did, in fact, lock it. Pull yourself together, Rui! He screams at himself.

The walk is just as unexciting as he expected, albeit a bit chilly. He’s feeling thankful for the sweater. The breeze runs its hands through his hair, and he’s reminded that winter is coming. He always liked Autumn flowers the best, hibiscus flowers are pretty too, he supposes. It’s nice to have the warmth of the sun soothing his cold hands during summer, for sure.

He trips over a rock on the way, and his pants get wet on the knees. Khaki blends into an ugly brown, and he sighs. How unlucky, would anything go right for him today?

Turns out it will, you look really good today.

You great him at the door, practically buzzing with eagerness. It makes him smile, knowing that you do, in fact, want to see him. Or at least are acting like it. You’re a good friend to him, he’s lucky to have you.

“Rui!” You hug him as a greeting, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. His heart soothes, eyes closing in relaxation. Problems feel obscure and distant when you two are like this, despite his reluctance last night. He can forget about corrupt feelings - or misguided love- and he can just be your best friend. Despite his apprehension to be cared for, he is flattered that you, at least, seem to like him.

“Hey.” He breaths you in, his voice soft. He hopes you don’t notice, it’s embarrassing.

“Hey!” You reply, pulling away. “Big things planned, Rui!”

“What big things?” He asks, amused. “Big things” for you were junk food and shopping.

“Big things! It’s a surprise!” You put your shoes on, and he can’t help but feel jealous as he watches your hands tie them dutifully. He sighs, stretching. He decides to make it a challenge to act normal the whole day. No weird thoughts are going to beguile his mind, he promises himself.

You lock your front door, twisting the knob to make sure that it did, in fact, lock. This fills him with a child-like sense of delight, maybe you two really were similar.

Nah, not possible. You’re too pure - too perfect. Ugh, Rui, no more stupid thoughts.

He watches you check the time, make a face at a nearby bird, and cover your cheeks with your hands. You suddenly perk up, wrapping your arms around him.

“Warm me up, will ya?” You scowl at the cool air, grip tightening. He gulps. It’s weird he reacts like this, considering you two have done things like this all the time. It’s normal, so why does he have to be such a creep? His arms wrap around yours, running his hands up and down to create heat.

“Should’ve worn a jacket,” he chides, “wouldn’t be cold, y’know?” His voice is so casual, like everything is totally fine. It is fine. Fine, fine, fine.

“Gotta look good. I’m on the hunt, obviously,” you joke. It isn’t funny to him, but he lets out a laugh.

“You’re hopeless.”

You two stop at a convenience store first, and you all but sprint to the drinks. He had this ritual down to a science. You grab two different color slushies, and he grabs whatever odd snack catches your collective stomachs eye today. Today the two of you decide to split a cookie, and walk to the counter. The cashier gives you a smirk, and he averts his eyes.

“This it?” The boy cocks his head, and you get the memo. You immediately jump on the opportunity.

“Mhm!” You wink, resting your chin in your hands while leaning against the counter. In all honestly, he wasn’t even that cute. At least, that’s what Rui kept telling himself.

“Don’t worry about it, than. I got you guys,” he waves you off. Score! You think, but he adds. “If I can get your number.” Rui feels like falling into the floor, how awkward! You just scribble it onto a stray receipt, winking.

“Thank you! You’re the sweetest!!” You singsong, skipping along with Rui following suite. You immediately burst into laughter, throwing a fake punch at Rui. “What a weirdo! Like I’d call him over what, 1000 yen?! I don’t even know him, yuck!”

So you did have some sense, he feels like letting out a sigh of relief. You hold your hands out.

“Which one do you want? I got your favorite!!” You look so proud, and he wants to laugh. His “favorite” isn’t actually his favorite, but he’d never tell you that.

The lie started one day in middle school, when the two of you suddenly had a weird craving for slushies. When you picked them out, you had gotten a red one and a blue one, and asked him what he wanted. While he really didn’t like red, he knew you liked blue, so he said red. Now for the past four years, you’ve always ended up getting him a red one, thinking it was his favorite. He’ll deal with it for you. Seeing your blue tongue stick out with brain freeze is better than any sugary drink anyway.

“Red, duh.” He scoffs playfully, taking a sip of it. The taste doesn’t really bother him all that much anymore. It reminds him of you.

You always let him divide the snacks, thinking he gives himself the bigger half. He never does, but he eats slower so you think he did. You skip along, enjoying it.

“Y’know, this isn’t bad. Wish they had the brownie, though. That never does us wrong.” God, don’t make him think of the ‘crack brownies’ - as you two call them. Those are great, and he likes them, so you never miss an opportunity to shove them down his throat.

“Don’t complain. Remember the egg roll incident?” He points, laughing at the memory. You two steer clear of that section now, having gotten sick.

“Ugh, I haven’t thought about that in a while! I’m never eating an egg roll again after that day! Ugh,” you gag.

Moments of silly memories like this make him feel like he’s known you forever. He can’t even remember a moment where he hasn’t loved you.

“Where’re we going now, commander?” He salutes, following the trail of sunshine you left behind.

“Where ever the wind blows us, kind sir!” You salute back, pushing him along. Your constant checks of your phone don’t go unnoticed by him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Who’re you texting? Don’t tell me it’s that guy.” He tries to sound casual, knocking his shoulder against yours playfully.

“‘M not a total idiot, I’ll have you know!” You huff, holding your phone to your chest. “It’s just somebody we went to school with a while back, ‘m seeing if I can pull the moves.”

“Do I know him?”

“Dunno, never saw you two talking, so maybe not. He was in my english class, remember, the only class we didn’t have together?”

“Ah.”

You two walk in silence, except for when he yanks you back from the collar so you don’t walk into oncoming traffic, which amuses you greatly. You two soon arrive at the small mall, and he tails you as you run with excitement. You two browse everything, constantly pointing out cute plushies, or interesting keychains.

“Rui, look! Look!” You shake him, pointing to the back of somebody’s head inconspicuously. “Wait don’t yet- Okay, now! He’s turning around! That’s the guy! What a coincidence we see him here, right? Do you recognize him?”

Ha. Yeah, he knows this guy. He definitely knows him. He’s the one who would trip him during passing periods, he’s the one who left flowers on his desk. They make eye contact, and it’s like all of his growth left his body. He’s just the same freak from middle school, he’s still thirteen.

He shudders at the guys smirk, sensing that he definitely knows that Rui knows him. He jogs over to the two of you, and Rui already knows what’s about to happen, due to the lopsided smile on your face.

Damnit, this is the first time he doesn’t think he can act like it’s okay.

“Oh wow, what a coincidence! Must be fate we run into each other like this, ehe…” You giggle awkwardly, a dumb expression gracing your face. It’s painful seeing you that way for anybody other than him, and he looks away awkwardly.

“Must be.” He answers, swaggering closer towards you. Rui thanks whatever God above because - despite his current situation - at least this asshole didn’t go to highschool with you guys.

He looks down at his shoes, and tries to shuffle away, knowing this jackass is about to say something. He’s quickly stopped.

“Who’s this, huh? Feel like a recognize him from somewhere…” He trails off, smirking through his nose as he turns his attention to him. “Have we met before?”

“This is Kamishiro Rui, he’s my friend! He went to middle school with us, remember?” You happily answer for him.

Ha, friend? What happened to back-up boyfriend? He’s a little hurt, to be honest.

He feels bitter, it’s unbecoming- God, he doesn’t care. He should feel bad for getting so angry over it, it’s not like you belong to him. He’s such a freak, getting attached to you like this.

He starts to pick at his fingers, then he plays with a loose string on his sweater. You two continue to chat like nothings wrong, and he keeps thinking. It’s something he’s gotten good at recently.

He stops feeling bad about himself for a second- a split second where he resents you, and wishes his pain upon you. Wants you to know what it’s like to be so disgustingly, guiltily, revoltingly obsessed with someone. In this split second, he can’t even find it in himself to feel guilty about it, which is unlike him. He wishes you felt love like this, that you were as psychotic about it.

But this doesn’t last long, because he remembers that he loves you more than anything. He’s lucky to be your friend. You’re a great friend, you’re an amazing person, you’re the sun, the sun, the sun.

He’s the pavement, he has to remember.

“I’m- I’ll leave you to it, y’know? Fabric store.” He stutters, choking on his voice. You don’t even notice, waving him off.

You do, however, remember to press his shoulder, uttering an absentminded “Okay, Rui, bye,” and he remembers again how perfect you are for doing it subconsciously. He lets himself feel the touch, long after he’s walked away. He deserves it after the trouble he’s reliving.

When he makes it to the fabric store - which he really didn’t need anything from, Nene had gotten some the other day - he can’t help himself from wishing he could just go home. Malls were always overwhelming already, and now his saving grace has the attention of another man. He walks through aisles, but realizes that he now has to buy something.

‘Least he knows that social cue, he laughs bitterly, running his hands across his face in frustration. He’s so ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you were chatting up a storm. It was your first time talking in person since middle school, after all! You feel giddy for a while, but it cuts abruptly. You feel a strange sense of urgency, something’s missing.

Oh, your best friend.

But where had he gone? You’re sure he was just here. You smile apologetically at the cute boy, putting on your best performance.

“Oh, I better go get my friend now. I don’t like walking home when it’s late. Was nice seein’ you, let’s hang out soon, ‘kay?” You singsong, stepping closer. You want to give yourself a pat on the back, you’re so cute.

He rolls his eyes, and you’re hit with a wave of uneasiness. That noise he made sounds strangely dismissive, he’s not the kind of guy to be a jerk though, you must be hearing things-

“Leave ‘im. Between you and me, he was a total freak in middle school. Probably is now, too. Probably likes you or somethin’, total nutcase.” His voice sounds so casual, like it’s not the douchiest thing you’ve heard all day.

You let other men walk all over you, sure. You let them cheat on you, lie, whatever. But you’re not about to stand here and insult Rui. He’s the only untouched thing in your life - the only person who isn’t cruel. He’s so gangly and awkward, but in the best way. You could live a million times and not be able to deserve him, at least you think so. He’s so unusual, and that’s what you love most about him. Little things like not liking loud lights, or liking the red slushies the best, make your heart buzzy with familiarity. He’s the one constant in your life.

You’ve been awfully worried about him recently, though. His particularly (as you like to call it) has gone to the an extreme, and it’s been a battle getting him to eat real food. You’re not blind, you see the way he’s been spacing out, or tapping a little too much. You just thought he’d been overwhelmed. He worries you to death sometimes, but despite all of his own struggles, he always seems to not care about it, deciding to always be there for you instead. Ah, he’s just such an amazing guy - no, not guy, he’s not anything like those other boys you talk to. He’d never insult someone like that. He’s not just a guy, he’s like your person.

Yeah, he’s definitely your person.

Your heart sputters at the thought, and you feel something you’ve never really felt before - save for hugs between the two of you that lasted just a second too long, or words a little too romantic. The feeling makes your mind fuzzy, and your heart hurt terribly with something you could only place as homesickness.

Oh.

“I,” you begin, backing away. “Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ll really be going now-“

“What? C’mon I was just messing with you, even though having guy friend’s kinda weird.” He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah whatever, I’ll call you back,” you say dismissively.

You’re totally lying, you laugh, you’re not calling him back.

He didn’t seem to like that.

“Damn, can’t even joke around with you people. Whatever, weirdo, sorry I insulted your little boyfriend.” The change in tone amuses you.

Yeah, good riddance, pal.

You turn away, walking through the mall with pace. It takes a while, but you spot him watching a pet stores aquarium.

He’s a funny one.

You wave your hands, trying to get his attention. He swallows, knowing that it’s probably to ask him if it’s cool to walk home by himself. Emotions are stupid, and ironically, you both think that at the same time.

“Rui! Rui! Hey c’mon, let’s go home, yeah?” You smile, face feeling warm. It’s a different feeling from when you usually talk to him. He looks at you, a little shocked. He had assumed you were smiling wide because you set up a date, so he turns his head.

“Where is he, huh?” He looks away, back to the fish tank. You shift in place, was he mad at you? You’re a little irritated at the mention of the guy, though, and huff.

“Don’t worry about that. Seems like I only attract douchebags, so I decided to go.” You explain, poking his shoulder. “Hey,” you start, “let’s just walk home, I wanna talk to you about something.” The idea makes you feel dizzy, but you’ll have to illustrate your feelings one day.

You can leave out the “I think I’m in love with you” part, you think.

The two of you walk in an excruciating silence, staring down at the reflection of the setting sun in the puddles. His heart tightens, remembering his earlier comparison. Even now, you’re so perfect. Even if he’s frustrated with you - despite you turning down the guy in the end (he doesn’t know why, he wanted to ask) - even if he’s ready to scream, and cry, and ask you what it is he did for you to be so turned off by him, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly, divine person to ever grace his view. He wants to be where you see him, he wants to be in your orbit.

“You’re like the sun-“ He blurts out, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to say that, God, he’s so fucking stupid. He sees you stop walking, smiling that same stupid, dopey, lopsided smile that he’s always so jealous of-

Oh. It’s for him.

He chokes, stopping to meet you eye-to-eye. You look up at him too, laughing giddily.

“What does that mean?”

He sputters, stepping away. “N-no it’s nothing- It was stupid anyway so-“

“No, tell me!” You urge, laughing a little harder. “What if it was something bad, ‘nd you were making fun of me? That’s not nice, Rui!”

“I- Hey-“ His voice goes a touch higher, a defensive tone rising. “That’s not-“

“Then tell me.”

“It’s just,” he breaths, trying to word it in the least creepy way possible. How does convey the fact that he sees you as a divine presence, that he sees himself as a worthless creature compared to you, without sounding like he’s hopelessly possessed by love for you? “I just- you’re so amazing,” he starts, “I thought of this stupid thing the other day when I was walking home - you know how I am - and well, I just thought of you when the sun reflected off the pavement - since it rained, y’know? - and well, it just- Sorry, it was dumb-“ He rambles, covering his face in anguish.

Nobody’s ever put that much thought into you. Sure, you’ve received a few ‘You’re so gorgeous’’s, where you’ve had to wonder where they learnt such a “big word”, but never something as poetic as that. The usual Rui-ratic explanation endeared you to him even more. You look at him, the smile never leaving. He’s just… so Rui. His stupid striped sweater, his half up hair - that you’d begged him to grow out - his eyes, whatever. Everything about him you treasure, and little do you know he cherished you even that more intensely.

“I think you’re the moon, Rui. Or maybe the earth, since I take care of you, hah!” You snicker, stepping closer to him. He takes a step back in return, and you grab his hands to make him stay put. His heart throbs, and he almost goes crashing down.

“I.. I don’t-“

You yank his hands, making him look back up at you. “Hey, Rui, I,” you look at him assuringly, “I wanna say something, and you can’t laugh okay?”

He holds his breath, so do you.

Fuck it, just tell him.

“I think I’m in love with you, Rui.” You gaze at him, the words shooting out faster than you can second guess them.

“I don’t-“ He breaks away, his fists balling up. You messed up, you think, you really, really messed up. “I’m not- I’m not going to- You can’t just say that because you got rejected. I- It wouldn’t be nice to- You don’t love me-“

“Rui,” you beg, grabbing his arm again, “holding hands on the way to school, cuddling while doing homework, knowing everything about eachother, these aren’t-“ You breath, “I’ve wanted somebody to love me for so long, Rui, and I was so blind to the fact that I was loved. But the love that I felt for you, - that I feel for you - Rui, isn’t the kind where I can be- where I can just be so- so normal about those things!” You monologue, saying whatever’s on your mind. You’re the rambling one now.

“I found myself comparing you to these piece-of-garbage dude’s I’m always with, wishing I could just date somebody like you instead! But now I realize that it is you-“

His heart falls into his gut, and he breaks free from you again. His hands move to his face, covering his eyes. His voice is broken and cracky as he begins to cry. “That was- you-“ He pulls you into a desperate embrace, arms holding you like you’ll disappear. “You shouldn’t, you’re wrong.” He sobs, “I’m- the way I love you is- You don’t understand, the way I feel isn’t normal I- My love is disgusting, and horrible, and depraved-“ He shakes, you rub his back. “You are so perfect compared to me, I’d never be able to- I love you so much, more than friends are supposed to, more than anyone’s supposed to at our age-“

“Rui, hey Rui please don’t cry.” You beg, smoothing out the ridges in his sweater. “I don’t- I don’t agree with that, and I can scream that at you, but I’m sure you won’t believe me. You’re not disgusting for feeling emotions different, Rui that’s what I love about you.”

“Stop- stop saying my name like that. It’s too hard to-“

“Rui, I love you. You don’t need to accept it, but I love you. More than being in love, more than being loved-“

“I love you, too,” his voice cracks, “that’s why I’m so scared. I don’t want to ruin a friendship that’s all I have, if this is just- I’m scared I’d lose you in any way, and I can’t live in a world where you don’t see me. I won’t. It’s sounds horrible but-“ He stops as you pull away from the hug, and wipes his face hastily. You put your pinky out, and his stomach drops again.

“C’mon, just like when we were kids. Pinky promise that no matter what, we’ll always see each other. That way you don’t need to worry anymore, y’know? I never break my kissy pinky promises, ever.”

Just like when you two were little.

He locks his with yours, just like you taught him all those years ago. He remembers your shared handshake for theater, he remembers your shared handshake for testing, and he remembers the song you two had to duet for choir - when you have forced him into it for a year. He holds everything of you so dear to his heart, you endear everything about him to you as well.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I see you.”

“I see you, too.”

You two kiss your hands, then bring them down, still interlinked. You stare at him, and he stares back at you. In a moment of profound sincerity, you lean forward, and kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, and you unlock your hands half way through to hold his face, which he mirrors. His heart settles for the first time. You see him. He’s your moon, your earth, you’re his sun, his stars.

He’s suddenly alarmed by a quick pushing off of him, gasping out a “Rui!”

“I-“ he pants, wiping his mouth. “Hm?”

“we’re in the middle of a park!”

[mylittleredgirl]

m*a*s*h reaction post released from my drafts!! i don't know why i have been worried about making a Good Post when legitimately everything that could ever be said about this show has been said.

so i will SHARE MY THOUGHTS ABOUT SEASON THREE currently in progress:

ooooh war got a sweet budget increase in the off-season. pyrotechnics! helicopters! ACTIONNN BAYBEEEE

i'm falling more in love with everyone, details to follow

top of the list: trapper my bestie has been promoted to trapper my legit fictional crush 💕

don't get me wrong, in real life i would slap his face, but i'm with hot lips on this one. the hair, the smile, every time he takes off his shirt... take me to the supply tent or lose me forever

HOWEVER, i happened to notice that he is not on the header pic on hulu* and none of you talk about him so i must regretfully conclude that he will eventually leave the show

DON'T TELL ME WHEN

anyway i am cherishing him as one cherishes an old dog not long for this world

*speaking of hulu: i have now joined the henry blake appreciation society thanks to this One Weird Trick (reupping my hulu account for a month because i lost my shit after the dvds cut out at the climax of an episode AGAIN)

i went back to rewatch the episodes that didn't play on the dvds, and turns out a lot of them were henry eps (including the trial of henry blake and the one where he is waiting for news about his new baby...) (and also the one where he fell in love with a cheerleader but you can’t win ‘em all)

just in time to appreciate that scene in "o.r." where he tells hawkeye he doesn't want to be discharged so that he can keep doing real doctoring 🥺

"o.r." had so many good character bits!! even frank got some depth?? or at least an explanation for why he's Like That...

other eps i liked:

"iron guts kelly" -- felt like a follow-up to the one last season where hot lips got wasted and broke up with frank and then hawkeye and trapper had to sober her up, which i also loved! "we hate her but she's OURS to hate" is such a good character dynamic.

also lmao every time she cheats on frank, GET YOURS GIRL 😘

the frank/margaret thing is strangely compelling actually? it's like an inverse ship for real. will-they-or-won't-they but for breaking up. same energy though, like i'm glued to the screen rooting for them to fight instead of kiss.

"check-up" i was sooooo brave you guys making peace with the situation BUT THEN TRAPPER STAYED!!! i feel like my crush has been given a stay of execution

i don't know if i ship it per se but i really hope he and margaret hook up exactly once and literally everyone regrets it

i've seen some more episodes and have more thoughts but i need to lie down a lot first

oh one more thing:

i realize "m*a*s*h actors amazing" is not breaking news, but i'm specifically obsessed right now with how they are always interacting with props. i don't even mean the o.r. tools or scripted things, but how in every scene they're doing comedy while also moving crap around, pouring things, drinking, shaving, changing clothes, handing (or THROWING) things to each other, just making a mess all the time while still hitting their lines and comic beats. it's a master class in whatever that is.

anyway it's so good!!! more to come 💕

[king-candybug-backup]

Joining in on chapter 5 love! >:3 I really like how this chapter explains the weird mental spot KCB’s stuck in a bit better. In the other chapters I was confused as to why he wasn’t leaning into the sympathy Vanellope’s been showing him more in like a manipulative way? I thought it was a little odd that he was so standoffish when she’d question him about things like the Roadblasters incident or her comments about how lonely it would’ve been being isolated and gameless instead of taking advantage of her willingness to hear him out to pull some sort of “Oh, poor old me” kind of routine or something to try and sway her opinion of him to seem more sympathetic than he actually is or something like that… (Wow, run-on sentence much? Sorry. qwq Also please don’t take this as a jab at your writing or anything, the fic is really good, it just took me until now to fully understand KCB’s thought process with this topic specifically!)

But now that the whole thing about how he’s having more trouble than usual regulating his emotions also that he’s not wanting to risk looking too obviously manipulative has been explained more directly, everything else beforehand makes a lot more sense for me, and I think that’s cool! Especially for re reading! :3

OH DUDE DON’T WORRY YOU’RE FINE LMAO, one of my weakest points with this fic so far has been basically exactly that, elaborating on this weird position he’s been thrown into, lol. Like, I can FEEL what I mean in my own head, but I have trouble translating that to words sometimes, so it can come out a little confusing, that is definitely my bad. 😂 I’m happy to hear it came across more clearly in this chapter! :D Thank you so much for all the kind words, I am SOBBING

But yeah, it’s basically this weird situation of, like, he can’t really do the full-on “nice persona” stuff like he did with King Candy because everybody knows that was fake now, the illusion is BROKEN, so HE knows that it would be a horrible idea to try that or any similar lies again since it’d just have the opposite effect and everyone would be like “Do you think we’re f-cking stupid”. (I mean, he does, but not THAT stupid. 😂) On the OTHER hand, being overly aggressive or speaking his mind the whole time would ALSO get everybody severely side-eyeing him because OH BOY HE HATES THEM ALL AND WANTS THEM TO DIE BUT HE CAN’T JUST SAY THAT LMAO, so he’s gotta hold a very delicate balance of “Don’t be suspiciously nice” and “Don’t be a raging asshole 24/7” but the whole ‘facade being broken’ thing and ‘part Cy-bug now’ thing kinda has him leaning towards raging asshole since he can kinda get away with it a little bit, given the current situation JGFHHTVJGHKBJNK

So being on SUUUPER thin ice already, finding a middle ground of all that stuff while also dealing with the threat of Sinistar and having to figure out a plan to take over a game at some point is a lotta stuff to be juggled lol

[possamble]

⭐️

hee hee i know i probably should have consolidated all the stars into one post but im gonna use this as an excuse to talk about multiple sections lmao

This is another part in chapter 4 that people haven't said too too much about for understandable reasons--it mostly just reads like a fluffy flashback to add to the emotional distress of the current situation:

(It stopped after a few months. Falin never really knew why, nor did she think very much of it — not until it came up in conversation again some years after the fact. “I guess I just felt really awkward — I knew you were a quiet kid, so I felt like I had to compensate, maybe,” Marcille admitted with an apologetic laugh. “It took me a while to realize you didn’t care if I had anything to say or not.”  “That’s not true…”  A brighter laugh, this time. “I didn’t mean it like that. It was more… hm… how do I put this?” She tapped her bottom lip with her finger and stared at the ceiling a bit, ears tilting slightly downwards. “More like, you didn’t mind if I didn’t feel like talking.” “Why would I mind?”  Marcille smiled at her warmly — it was a special smile, one that Falin loved, because Marcille was always smiling brightly and cheerfully. Or, she was calm and graceful, guiding the other students through a difficult concept with all the gentleness in the world.  But this one was soft and warm and so very sincere, Falin couldn’t help but hope she was the only person Marcille smiled like this for.  “Exactly.”  Falin didn’t get it — but then Marcille draped her arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, so she guessed it was fine if she didn’t. “Maaan, you’ve been growing like a weed lately — I can’t even fit you under my arm anymore!” Marcille threw her other arm around Falin too, clinging close and nuzzling the side of her head. “What am I gonna do if you get as tall as I am? Just stop growing and stay like this forever, I’m begging you—!”)

But! It's kind of one of my own favourite parts about this chapter because of how one-sided and limited the perspective is here: we're seeing Marcille through Falin's eyes, in the form of a memory, from when she was a kid.

My primary focus in this scene was to capture a floaty, kind of detached approach to other people that Falin had as a child--it wasn't that she didn't care, it was more of a childlike resignation that she doesn't understand people, never will, and just kind of going with the flow. She hadn't really learned to mask or be vigilant towards other people's moods yet, in essence. I hope that you can clearly read Falin's detailed and attentive adoration of Marcille juxtaposed with a deeply uncurious attitude towards Marcille's inner thoughts and feelings beyond what she's willing to share.

The other thing I wanted to show was a glimpse of just how much Falin was also Marcille's first friend outside of her family in ways that were so important to her, even if Falin never realized. In my head, the way she approached her social life was colored by some weird and deeply rooted belief that no one would ever bother with her if she wasn't as smart as she was. She had trouble getting accepted into schools as a kid, meaning that she and her parents did apply and were rejected--the magic academy is the first time she's ever been able to be in a social environment without her family, and she got in because she was already an accomplished mage who was fully qualified to be in the research track.

So for Falin to make her feel safe, and like she didn't have to be either helpful or entertaining for someone to enjoy her company meant a great deal to her. Falin didn't care, and couldn't even conceive of a reason why anyone would dislike that Marcille didn't have interesting things to say all the time. In much more subtle ways, Falin's unconditional acceptance of Marcille was much of a first and a revelation for Marcille as Marcille was to Falin.

(So it's unfortunate that there's such a disconnect--Falin thinks that Marcille is just uncomfortable with her like a stranger again. Marcille, on the other hand, is freaking out because her anxiety and insecurity have been renewed, and she doesn't really know how to handle the fact that she wants Falin to find her attractive and interesting and all that.

In a happier and lighter story, this would all be resolved without further hurt and miscommunication :) but we all know that's not what you're here for.)

[lauriejamesgrace]

i'm currently suffering and sick in bed, so with the release of the new season i've used my time to rewatch all three seasons of heartstopper, and both tao's reaction to nick and charlie in season one, and isaac's reaction to elle and tao in season three have got me thinking about the value i place on my own (platonic) relationships;

does anyone else know what i mean when i say that you can be fully, wholly, entirely in love with someone without any desire to make the relationship sexual or even romantic?? because like

my best friend is the actual LOVE of my whole entire LIFE

(don't worry they know all this this isn't some dramatic love confession i'm keeping from them but regardless,,)

'cause like i've always been someone who greatly values platonic love, but until the past couple years i always thought that romantic love was inherently stronger than platonic?

i'm in one of those stereotypical queer friendships where literally everyone is convinced that we'll either end up together, or are already together, or are at least in an unrequited love situation (either way around lmao it varies), and when i say everyone, i mean everyone, as in like especially my dad? he's convinced we're meant for eachother and that we'll never meet anyone else that gets eachother the the way we do one another, and my mum's convinced that anyone either of us date will undoubtedly have a problem with how close we are, even though it's a well established fact that anyone that has an issue with our friendship will not be a candidate for someone i'd be with, and to top it off they were the first person i 'dated' at the fresh-out-the-womb(or closet sidfjhs) age of 12/13

and because we then broke up it was obviously awkward for a little while, and we weren't as close for two or three years after that, but shared social circles meant that we remained at least partly friends, and then come year 10 (14/15 years old for anyone not british lmao) we became decidedly best friends again, but even then it was just your average, secondary school, best-friendship. my love for them continued to grow across our gcse years and sixth form, but it was across our first year at university (seperate unis!!!!) where i truly fell in love

we'd made jokes about our 'unhealthy closeness', and 'codependence' for a while, but when i say i made a total of zero friends that first year, because i was perfectly happy spending every spare minute on the phone to them, i am being completely serious, and i'm not even mad about it

either way, i'm sick and getting bored of typing so i won't go on about just how much i love them, but i assure you that they are my best friend for life, regardless of who else i meet in my future, and i can't help but refer to it as a platonic relationship rather than 'just' a friendship, because at the end of the day we are in love! and it'll never be romantic or sexual in any way because that's not what either of us want, but that doesn't diminish the strength or importance of the relationship we're in

(also we have discussed how we probably could fall in [romantic] love without much difficulty if we only tried, but we aren't feeling that way naturally, and we have no desire to change our dynamic as it is now so why would we ?! <3)

anyways where i was meaning to go with this was that part of me has been secretly terrified that i'm just in denial of my 'true' feelings, and that how much i love them can only be justified by a secret desire for romance. i was genuinely so stressed about them (or me for similar reasons) getting into a [romantic] relationship, and me suddenly having a realisation that i'll never truly be happy without being with them like that, but they recently HAVE gotten into a new relationship, and i am pleased to say that i am genuinely nothing but happy for the both of them

sidenote going back to the intro of this post lol: i was also terrified that in the event i'm not in [romantic] love with them that i'd end up acting exactly like tao, or isaac, as in like mad, or bitter, or jealous (not that i think their feelings were invalid, but they still hurt their friends by feeling that way and that ain't what i wanted), but i'm not even feeling jealous so i think i'm acting okay lol

thanks for reading xoxo

[ragsy]

1 for everybody pleeeease (for characters that have had distinct iterations, what thought led to fleshing them out in their current iteration?), also 5 and 19 for everybody as well :D

1. What was the original thought that led to the creation of this character?

Mark: "I need a pathetic creature to put in a bad situation for my players to rescue for this oneshot that I am presently unaware will bloom into a full campaign. Hmm, I know just the guy!"

Kenny: "I need a player character for this oneshot that turned into a DM-swapping full campaign. What if I actually did something with this haunting-the-narrative NPC from my old campaign that just ended?"

Sloane: "I made her specifically for me and she must persist into every OC-verse that I'm currently working with."

Arji: "Sorcerer is the only 5e class that I can wrap my brain around in this the year of our lord 2017. And I like green so he's a green dragonborn. Everything else will grow from here."

Maggie: "What if one of the clockwork soldiers from Dishonored 2 was also Levi from Scavengers Reign and also a paladin."

Dewlap: "What if Professor Farnsworth from Futurama was a lizard and also died badly"

5. How did you choose their name and why? Was it simply based on vibes or is there any specific meaning behind the name? Are the reasons behind their name different in- and out of universe?

Mark: It was a suggestion from my RP partner at the time, way back in like... 2009 or so. He was originally a dragon named Halapher, and when I made him human in a modern setting, I eventually decided he needed a plausible Modern Human Name. I think the conversation went something like "What should I rename him?" "What about Michael? Or Mark?" So there's a parallel universe out there where he's dogmike now.

Kenny: I don't exactly know why I specifically settled on Kenneth, but he did start out as Dennis, which I changed because it didn't flow very well with his last name (Song), and I couldn't change his last name because his daugher Emily had the same last name and she was already too well established at the time to rename. He didn't become Kenny until I started playing him as a PC though; I fully introduced him as Kenneth, and everyone at the table said "Got it. That man's a Kenny now."

Sloane: Got it from going through lists of names and trying them on her like paint samples until I found one that fit. I liked the fact that it was uncommon, it's monosyllabic, and it flows well into her last name, which is Hill.

Arji: Arjibi, pronounced like the letters RGB, like the digital color profile. Because I was in graphic design school at the time :]

Maggie: aka Mags, aka MAG, aka Mechanical Autonomous Guardsman. I wanted to give it an acronym for a name, so it was just kind of a matter of grouping words and phrases together until I could come up with something that was both relevant to its whole deal and also pronouncable/nicknameable.

Dewlap: The surname Dewlap came to me in a flash of inspiration, but his first and middle names (Finneas Carlton) took a lot of workshopping. I stuck with Finneas because he's got lots of fins. I stuck with Carlton because it flowed nicely with the rest of his name, and because people who are mad at him can call him Carl.

19. What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite?

Mark: ❤️I've had him for so long, writing him is like second nature, despite all the times I've remade him. ❌I wish I had named him something else, I know too many Marks IRL, lmao

Kenny: ❤️Sweet, kind-hearted uncle who is at his core voraciously lonely like a black hole. [sickos dot jpg] ❌ Maybe based him a little too heavily on people i'm related to and also my real life dentist

Sloane: ❤️heheheheh ❌She doesn't have a solid narrative of her own yet, so she's too nebulous!!! Hopefully that will change soon.

Arji: ❤️Everyone loves arji. Everyone. ❌Generally kinda fell out of love with playing him; that's been alleviated somewhat recently thanks to a fresh mini campaign I got to use him in, but. His original iteration still trudges onward

Maggie: ❤️Fun to play a 7ft robot who sees the world with extremely fresh eyes! ❌It only speaks in pre-recorded messages, so it's really hard as a player to pass on information to the other characters (a trap of my own making...)

Dewlap: ❤️Idk why it's taken me this long to make a kooky mad scientist type character, he feels like the missing piece from the Zodiac of Ragsy Coded Characters ❌doing his voice takes a lot of energy (IT'S ME BOY, I'M THE PS5), idk how much further into his campaign i can sustain it

[mediocreanomaly]

Legato falling for you HCs

Authors Note: I’m so sorry I’m a Legato apologist so of course my first post has to be about him lmao I am for sure not proof reading this so apologies for any mistakes

• First off, he’s got alot going on. So it’s most definitely going to be a bit of a slow burn for him to really like you, much less love you. Don’t be deterred though! Patients is key... •When he first meets you he’s pretty indifferent to you. I’d imagine you’d have to meet him through the Gung-Ho-Guns so he mostly just wants you to stay out of his way. •Main way to get him to warm up to you? Food. They say food is the quickest way to a mans heart and that's especially true for Legato. Don’t make a big deal of it but if you just happen to have extra snacks laying around for him? Who is he to say no? •Eventually, he might even start to unconsciously seek you out knowing where you are there's a snack to follow. •Slowly, the two of you even begin talking, small words exchanged between meetings, you sit and nod while he quickly complains about what ever is currently not going right with the other Gung-Ho-Guns •Now eventually these quick talks turn into full conversations. Legato isn’t exactly nice but he’s also not completely rude either as you talk. He silently listens and might add a snarky comment along the way but he secretly has begun enjoying listening to you, not to mention he can’t stop watching your mannerisms and notices you need a hair cut soon and- uh oh. •If you’ve managed to stick it out this far congrats! You’ve actually begun to get somewhere with the man. Now once Legato begins realizing he has feelings for you it’s a lot to unpack. He’s been through a lot and trusting someone is hard for him so give him some time and space as he mulls over how to handle the situation  • Once the two of you start dating not much changes admittedly. For one he does not want you to initiate any touch. He has a ton of trauma regarding it and one wrong move will have him pushing you back with his powers before you can say “Bluesummers”.  • The second thing you have to understand is Knives Millions comes first. Every. Time. It might take some getting used to but the man is devoted. If you can stick with him through those two things it’ll actually bring you a lot closer to him. Not many people would be understanding of that. •Legato does try to show he cares in his own ways though. Bringing you things back from towns he visits (destroys), giving you books he likes, ect. It’s small but it’s the best he can do to thank you for still being by his side. **Very slight spoilers for manga**  •Now. I do actually believe you could get this man away from Knives but it is a very long, very tedious process. Don’t ever shit talk Knives around him, don’t beg for him to leave knives for you, and don’t tell him knives is bad for him. He’ll leave just like that, instead go for a softer approach  •Legato doesn’t know how to live without someone commanding him. He’s never known kindness or love until he met you, so it’s up to you to slowly show him he can live without a collar around his neck. •It’ll be hard I won’t lie, but do domestic things with him in the rare time he has away from Knives. Show him how to cook, take walks with him, fold laundry with him, show him that life doesn’t always have to be a fight. Sometimes you can just...be. • If he opens up about his past? You’ve got him. He doesn’t share that information with anyone, and you are suddenly very aware of why he acts the way he does. Don’t pity him, but show compassion. Listen to everything he has to say and assure him he’s come along way since then. • At this point despite how devoted he is to Knives...I think you’d be able to finally drag him away. I think the main reason he’s so loyal to Knives is that he doesn’t know how else to live. Knives is honestly just another form of his abusers, another iron fist, another collar, another cage. But you? You’re like a small ray of hope, the first good thing to ever bless his existence. He won’t say it out loud, but he isn’t sure he deserves you, but he’s thankful he has you anyways. •For the sake of fluff we are going to assume you managed to get him out of the Gung-Ho-Guns, maybe you got him to reluctantly join Vash’s cause (unlikely) or maybe the two of you are now in hiding in a small town (more likely) either way it’ll be a bit easier to get Legato out of his shell, although don’t expect a huge transformation he’s still working himself out (but he’s trying!!!)  •Eventually he get’s used to a life without someone looming over him, it’s weird for him at first, but not completely bad. He also starts to get more use to touch, your hand in his, his hand pressed against the small of your back, your fingers tracing his face. There will always be a limit to how much he can take before he needs a break, his trauma isn’t going to disappear over night but he’s trying everyday to be someone worthy of you love. Besides, when he gets to wake up suns still just peeking over the horizon your sleeping face catching a bit of the golden rays that sneak in through the blinds...he can’t help but think that all his suffering was worth it, as long as he get’s to keep waking up next to you.

[crazy-ache]

Fanfiction Ask Game

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 21

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 184,514

3. What fandoms do you write for? ACOTAR (my current obsession), and I used to write quite bit for Avatar: The Last Airbender (back in the DAY with fanfiction.net and livejournal.com just to show my AGE), and I have dabbled briefly in GOT haha

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?  

when destiny keeps calling (Zutara, ATLA)

the other side of mercy (Zutara, ATLA)

surround me (Zutara, ATLA)

Call Me Selfish, Call Me Wreck (Elucien, ACOTAR)

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain (Elucien, ACOTAR)

Major love to my old Zutara fandom.

5. Do you respond to comments? I didn't always understand the importance of doing it and I used to be very shy in fandom, but now I do my best to always respond! I have made friends from engaging on fics on Ao3 which I love. It makes the writing experience feel like a community event which has been really fulfilling.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I usually leave on a hopeful note, but I did write water can heal, water can break which was slightly Zutara with anti Kataang vibes and the implications of the ending break my heart because they were aligned with the canon for Katara. I basically was so disappointed by the absence of her story in LoK that I needed to explain why it wasn't her fault and her own internal heartbreak about it.

Call Me Selfish, Call Me Wrecked is happy but also has my special mix of angsty-HEA. 7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of them LOL. But maybe Courting Lucien Vanserra because I was just in a silly goofy mood when I wrote it. But I also still technically need to write the epilogue....shit....

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh! I used to not. @zenkindoflove influenced me lmao. Now I am getting better at it. So, yes, I do. I'm going to call it smut-with-lots-of-feelings.

9. Do you write crossovers? I have not!

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but please tell me if you do LOL

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Oooh yes. Me and @zenkindoflove have written two works together. I highly recommend it to anyone else considering it. It was some of the most fun I had writing in a long while- a true creative experiment. We basically have our own "Canon" universe of crazykindoflove that we have established in our heads. It helps we very much have the same tastes.

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? Zuko/Katara was the ship that started it all for me. It taught me fandom obsession, fandom community, it spurred a life-long passion for writing....I think I have to give it credit where it is due. Elain/Lucien is getting up there. Their book might be the very thing that puts them into the number one slot.

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Divine Punishments....the multi-chapter fic I had grand plans for that I abandoned after the first chapter LOL.

14. What are your writing strengths? Metaphors. I can come up with a damn good metaphor. That's my poetry background coming into play. My writing is very lyrical, descriptive, and introspective. I love finding a beautiful metaphor that just perfectly describes an emotion or situation.

Because were she to ever wear the dress, those stitched sunflowers, with their bright yellow petals, would be a declaration to the whole world exactly what his heart intended. That she was the sun and he was the humble sunflower, forever loyal to follow her, forever in adoration of her shine; for the sunflower only grows facing the sun’s light, in an eternal chase of her orbit. It didn’t matter where either of them moved, he would be there, waiting to bloom at her smile. 

Like damn look at this. I still think about this one LOL

15. What are your writing weaknesses?  Plot LOL. I was a oneshot girl my entire life and could never tackle multi-chapter works with elaborate plots. Until ACOWAR (Elucien's Version)!!

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'd love to incorporate my Spanish but haven't had a reason to yet in a fic.

17. First fandom you wrote for? ATLA!

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is really hard. Several are near and dear to my heart. But I'm going to say ACOWAR (Elucien's Version). Because I'm really proud of the quality of the writing, the interesting take on Canon AU, the characterizations, and the time spent mapping out the chapters. I'm halfway through and it's already been beyond rewarding.

I feel as though everyone has been tagged on this one, so feel free to steal and share!!!

[graysongraysoff]

the most frustrating thing about all of it is when i ask my therapist or google or literally anyone else why i can't seem to get over the jealousy or the loneliness the response is always "yeah man it seems like you need more friends whose lifestyles are more similar to yours so that you're not constantly comparing yourself and feeling like the odd one out" as if that's like. even kind of easy to do.

like wow you're so right lemme just real quick go grab some new friends who *checks notes* are in their 30s but are not in committed relationships and aren't necessarily looking for them, like at least some of the same geek shit as me in at least kind of a similar way, oh and also live close enough to me that hanging out doesn't have to be a production every time. even though my local comic book store doesn't have a club or host any events and the book club at the library meets in the middle of the day on thursdays and is all retirees and my yoga class is nice but it's not like we can necessarily spend any time chatting and everyone either lives in dc or in baltimore and i'm a pussy who can't fucking drive so hanging out with people is always a production for somebody and my stomping grounds are limited to places i can get via public transit.

like i'm not saying i'm never going to make any new friends who fit these criteria, but what the fuck am i supposed to do in the meantime? because this isn't exactly something i can brute force, lmao, and whether you like believe me or not my current living situation isn't exactly flush with opportunities for meeting new people.

also have you considered that maybe i don't just feel like the odd one out? maybe i am the odd one out? what then??

[abyssal-werewolf]

uuurrrrgh I hate this feeling of "what if I am faking being autistic??? I for sure am nOt AUtiSTiC EnoUgH"

So. In an attempt to cope with this, I'm gonna write shit down

reasons why I think I am "not autistic enough":

I can use irony and sarcasm and it's a 50/50 chance if I understand it when other people use it

I am very low to no support needs, because I am extremely skilled at masking and "just pushing through struggles"

I don't have violent and/or screaming meltdowns

now: reasons why I am FUCKING OBVIOUSLY autistic and not secretly faking:

I mask all the damn time. if I didn't mask, I'd constantly stim, make weird noises, etc in public

There is exactly one person I feel comfortable being myself around, which is my boyfriend who is probably autistic too. I am like 98% sure he is. we communicate through meowing mote often than I'd like to admit lmao

I stim. all. the. time. In public I try to be subtle but it's still there. I do the feet rubbing against each other, vocal stims, biting my lips, pulling my hair (gently, not actually pulling it out), cracking knuckles, rubbing fingers against each other, etc etc etc

special interests. I mean they get blurry with hyperfixations sometimes, but my obsession with Warrior Cats, The Big Bang Theory, horses and Pokémon is on a different level. I always was like this, after I watched LotR for the first time, it became my whole personality for five fucking years. I watched the movies over 20 times each and the Hobbit around 10-15 times. same with BBC Sherlock and Supernatural (the later is still ongoing, the others have faded over time).

I love love LOVE repeating things. it's most noticable with what I watch, I'm currently on my 30th or something run of TBBT. same with routine, although that's less noticable, cause I don't have a set daily routine - but in my head, I always plan like a week ahead and I fucking hate sudden changes in my plans. and by "sudden" I mean four days or less of mental preperation time.

ugh eye contact. I just. can't. social situations in general, I feel so fucking uncomfortable unless it's with people I 100% trust (or if my boyfriend is with me, then I feel safe too)

I could eat the same 10 foods allllll the time. I do like trying new things because cooking is fun but it needs to be under my control and I need to plan it out in my head. and I simply won't ever get tired of chicken nuggets, pasta and pizza.

sensory issues UGH- light too bright, sounds too loud, texture to ewww - you name it. high-pitched beeping noises make me go nuts, they fucking hurt my brain, they're the worst but there are other bad ones.

I have ADHD and had severe depression and anxiety in my teenage years and also was bullied, which isn't criteria but indicators, so...

I have pretty damn high scores on any autism test I take. every single one, even when I downplay my symptoms.

this is all I can think of for now, I might add on in the future

[kurosurintomasu]

How did giegue become brain damaged giegue?

[Writer's Note: This post took forever to friggin write. It's written in-character as this Purple Guy. Also, it may have a bit more than the answer you'd want. It's very text heavy. If you're using a screen reader, then you're gonna have a bad time, especially whenever there's images. Have a friend read this to you instead. There's gonna be a lot of shit explained, from DG's origins to Gen's life outside of this. So, press Keep Reading if you interested in those sorts of things. Here we go.]

Before I can answer your question, I have to give you a bit of backstory.

My name is Sangen Demoli, but my friends call me Gen. I am a demon. I live in hell as its (technical) ruler. I'm 13.8 billion years old, as I was one of the seven demons that were created along with the universe. My father is BUBBA. Here's a picture of him.

[Writer's note: Bubba (the big black one) and Herbert (the small white one), creators of the Universe. Image dated July 22, 2020. Drawn by @bowbi.]

I'm an easily entertained guy. I created Earth, and some of its inhabitants, such as the Colormen, who were created in my image. For 4.5-ish billion years, I've essentially done nothing but sit on my ass while the current actual ruler of hell, Lucifer, tortures all those sinning souls. Even though I created Earth, and along with it, Hell. Why does he get the awesome giant castle while I have to live in a shitty fucking mobile home?! It's bollocks, I say, bollocks!

(ahem) Anyways, it was only until the mid 80's, Earth years, that I decided to do something with my life. I decided to keep watch on a small, rabbit-ish type creature throughout its life, watching it grow old, and eventually die. It lived in a village, located in a cave, which itself was situated on a floating island. And a couple years later I learned it was actually a he, not an it.

The rabbit-thing's name? I uh. I forgot. All these years going by makes me forget a lot of things. I remember what he looked like though! Lemme just....

There, this is what he looked like. This is... um... the small rabbit-ish guy. I also remember he had a crush on a girl rabbit-y creature for all of his life... her name was... um... Toroko, I think. Can't remember for the life of me what she looked like though.

Anyways, I was like a sort of... guardian angel (guardian demon?) to the little dude. Watched him grow into a fine young man.

But then... disaster. Sometime in Earth year 2003, he was murdered. In cold blood. By... I don't remember, but it was either a red ogre-type thing, or some megalovaniac- I mean megalomaniac scientist wearing an evil hat. I can't recall.

But, he was dead. I grew so attached to this little goober's life, that when I saw his mangled corpse on the ground, I couldn't help but cry.

I also felt like I failed as a guardian. I just. I needed to do something. So started the first of my many "experimental projects". I dubbed this... "Project Doppelganger."

Here's a very basic re-enactment of what I did in the project.

Of course, this is just a basic re-telling. There was no "remake person" machine that I've made... or at least, there was one, but Project Doppelganger took so long to finish because of me having to design, program, and use the machine. And it finally finished... on Earth date July 10, 2003.

It was called Project Doppelganger due to the fact that I basically remade him in my image. Thing about it though, was that while he had his previous personality, he had essentially no memories of his past.

He didn't even know who he was, so I had to make up some sort of fake backstory for him (which I will not get into, as the Project you now know as DG learned exactly who he was back in Earth year 2022, much to his dismay. He hated me for months lmao) just to make him... less confused as to who he is.

What does this have to do with "Giegue?" though? I'm getting to it.

Essentially, after Project Doppelganger, I never experimented with these sorts of "Creation/Recreation of life" projects. I've made strange inventions, such as a Shard Finder, but nothing as massive as Project DG.

That was, up until earlier this year. DG was playing this game. It was called EarthBound. I saw him get up to the final boss. The little runt on the screen in the spider mech, Porky Minch, unleashed what I can only describe as a horrorterror found in a childrens game from the 90's.

I asked DG what this whole deal was, and he just... started explaining all of the lore. Like, all of it. From the whole "George and Maria" bullshit, to whatever the "Seven Needles" plotline is, and even treating a fanmade project known as "Cognitive Dissonance" as if it were official canon, and basically explaining that as well.

When I asked him what was up with the horrorterror on my screen, he lit up even more and started gushing about this "Giygas" character, as I know know it is named. He continuously talked about his species, and continued to gush on about how it was underutilized canonically or whatever.

So, after all that, he told me "Man, I wish aliens were real," sorta like that Splatoon "I wish squids were real" meme. But... that gave me an idea.

I went home, and started brainstorming.

Now, lemme ask you this. Have you ever heard of an "alternate universe" before? Of course you have, this is Tumblr, for crying out loud.

Basically, there are multiple universes held in one entire Multiverse. Millions upon billions of them, even. And each of those universes have multiple alternate timelines. Think Homestuck. Doomed timelines, and allat.

So, I did a bit of research, and found an alternate universe, much like the universe the MOTHER series takes place. And in it, an alternate, doomed timeline where...

The chosen four, Ness, Paula, Jeff, and Poo. They were all dead. Killed before they could pray the Universal Cosmic Destroyer out of existence.

And tens of thousands of years passed by with Giygas being this... amorphous brainless horrorterror, not knowing what he is doing, having no control over his actions....

What did I do about it?

I put him in a bag. Like, a tote bag or whatever. Just, shoved him inside.

So, I had Giygas now.

Kept him in a jar, like a bunch of preservatives, or pickles, or other... unsavory fluids. What was I gonna do with him now? I had no clue.

Then, DG's words echoed through my brain. He's only like this because he "...was torn to shreds, molecule by molecule, due to high amounts of stress, anger... and PSI power."

I then knew what I had to do. I asked myself, "Y'know what'd be funny?", and started work on my first "Creation/Recreation of life" project in 20 years, "Project: Reconstruction," named after the "Reconstructed X" enemies from Mother 3.

I gave myself two rules for the project, however. The first one? NO PSI. If PSI was one of the main factors of him becoming the UCD, then I'd think I'd rather prevent that from happening to the VOIDLANDS.

Rule 2? No prior memories. Mostly because I don't want some evil guy roaming around punching people or whatever just because he doesn't have PSI. Also, those daddy-issue memories are one of the other main factors of his... self-destruction. Once again, better safe than sorry.

Anyways, I essentially had no point of reference on what he used to look like, so I basically went on the internet and cross-referenced a whole lot of shit, like the Spriters Resource, Giygas-based Tumblr blogs such as askgiegueandcrew, and... well... Highly unsavory artwork posted on that one furry art site (you know the one) just to get a basic reference for what I wanted him to look like.

[Writers' Note: askgiegueandcrew was/is my main point of reference for whenever I draw Gieegs (though it now has a major touch of my own art-style put in it whenever i do draw them)]

I even drew a blueprint of what I wanted out of Project: Reconstruction.

Here it is. Now, if I had the vision I wanted perfectly fine, then by the project's completion, Earth Date July 10, 2023, it would look a lot like this, now wouldn't it? Then, why don't you tell me...

WHY DOESN'T MINE LOOK LIKE THAT?!?!?!

I kid, of course, I know exactly why.

I took a lot of shortcuts.

A lot of them, in fact.

As I was putting him back together, molecule by molecule, I wanted to be pretty lazy, so I took a lot of them, but just enough to get it to this sort of "acceptable" state. These shortcuts led to a lot of the things you Hellsite Browsers know him for, his dead/blind left eye, his... being shorter than I thought he'd be... the fact that some of his limbs are still very... Giygas-y, red mist-type stuff... And, to answer the original question, his major high-functioning autism. (Though, to be fair, there were also no mind pieces to be found, so I had to make do with other pieces.)

None of these disabilities hurt him, per se, he's living pretty happily I'd say. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

What did I decide to do to celebrate this "successful" project?

Give him to DG as a gift! I mean, it was the 20th anniversary of Project Doppelganger, wasn't it?

I'll let the following images speak for themselves.

Needless to say, DG was not at all happy with me. But then I explained what I did and, while still sort of pissed at me for BRINGING WHAT WAS ONCE THE UNIVERSAL COSMIC DESTROYER TO HIS HOUSE AS A BIRTHDAY PRESENT, he calmed down a bit. They live together now. I dont wanna say DG's happy about it, but I think he's happy about it.

And now, to answer your question, for realsies this time...

[melis-writes]

i need your cognizance … im kind of new to the al pacino fandom and ive binged watched his filmography in over 3 days and i LOOOOVED EVERYTHINGGGG but mostly just staring at his gorgeous faaaace (im rolling my eyes and biting my fist as i type this)😮‍💨🥵😩 but im rlly having trouble finding my footing with the elephant in the room … and that is him having a baby at his present age and dating a woman 50+ yrs his junior… like im in too deep now, i just watched his nypd episode and that’s how far ive already went😭(not complaining👀) but im also at this stage where idk what or how to feel about him doing that. obviously ive acquired an above-average-more-than-wikipedia knowledge about him (i like him a normal amount, trust me) and i won’t willfully overlook the fact that he’s kind of a womanizer and one that is commitment-phobe, so i guess him having new girlfriends isn’t out of the blue but to date someone THAT young? like that could be ur daughter😭 in fact his eldest daughter is a few yrs older than his current gf

anyway what im rlly trying to say is, i need u to weigh in on this and pls tell me ur opinion. ive read ur impressive work and it encouraged and inspired me to read the godfather as a book, and not just settle on watching it. and with that in mind i thought u were the right person to provide insight on this. as u can see i love al so much, im actually thinking of making myself a bday cake with his picture on it, similar to a pic i reblogged a few days ago, but im soooo conflicted on this. like i truly am. i know it’s bad to have parasocial relationships w celebrities (especially younger versions of themselves OMG) (but im rlly not i just love him sm and admire him) but im at this phase where im afraid that finding out more of his humanly desires would disappoint me? and yes ppl might say i shld avoid putting celebrities on a pedestal bc they rlly dont give a fuck abt who u are😵‍💫 and i would definitely love to be one of those ppl that could simultaneously admire a person for their achievements and recognize their kind behavior but also acknowledge their wrongdoings … but if i do that isn’t it kind of telling on my end, of my behavior and shaky moral compass😫? or, now that im in too deep, maybe im just trying to maintain this idealized version of him in my head and this is simply a reality i refuse to accept😭? bc honestly when the news broke out a lot of ppl were divided, with most responses pandering to eerie and just odd reactions, but a small minority claims a different take, along the lines of ‘if two consenting adults wanna make a family then why not’ and this rlly bugs me bc ??? apart from it being an awfully lazy analysis there’s just SOO much to unpack about this situation. like theres just way too many layers and there’s nuances too. one of the replies actually said men at the age of 60 should already be neutered to prevent from procreating ever again and why i kinda agree to it ?? 😶 like im so conflicted … like i rlly am … this is eating me out and consuming me i honestly dont know what to do.

anyway IM SO SORRY FOR THE RAMBLING AND FOR HOW LONG THIS WAS … im sorry for the overcomplication … pls take ur time in answering this im rlly sorry id rlly appreciate ur stance on this … I LOVE UR WORK SO MUCH IT KEEPS ME SANE. especially with the gifs🥰🥰🥰🥰 bc of u i still get to fuel my indulgences. THANK YOU

Ah my dear, welcome to the Pacino fandom, first of all. 🤣❤️ We Pacino girlies welcome you with open arms here lmao I know exactly how that intense ass Pacino brainrot can hit and how hard too. 🥵

You're right first of all about the fact that there's a lot to unpack beyond the "it's two consenting adults in a relationship" piece but here's the thing, it's not meant for us to unpack. At the end of the day, all we can do is hear news, gossip and read articles about Al's relationship and this and that but we don't know how much of it is actually true and what's really going on, and we can't know. It really has nothing to do with any of us, and those two don't care what the public think either. It's Al and his gf's private life and judging on how shit broke out, they seem to have a lot more to worry about on their plate than anyone else's reactions.

Al is basically a womanizer from what I've read lmao. He always really has been and I know things obviously changed when he got older but an early article that came out saying Al and his gf are dating mentioned the age gap doesn't bother either of them and his gf has dated men around the same age and even older than Al. This is their personal and private life, after all. Men can have children at a very old age, this is just how science works lmao although it can be baffling at 80+, it's still a thing. From what the gossip online says, it looks like this was an unplanned thing and Al isn't doing so good. He doesn't seem to be jumping over the moon about everything from what I read either. I think this is hard for him, tbh.

And some people may think it's weird someone as old as Al is still having sex but given his track record, I'm not surprised at all lmao. To avoid disappointment from celebrity parasocial relationships and putting them on pedestals, you need to come to an understanding that you're also recognizing and putting up (in a way) their flaws on that pedestal too. Al is not a perfect human being, nobody is, but he isn't out here trying to be perfect or live up to anyone else's definitions either nor should he.

I love that you admire and love Al like the rest of us, but you also need to come to an understanding about the things he's done or said or whatnot that you don't agree with or necessarily like. He's just a human being at the end of the day, it's so complex. Don't think too hard on it, because everyone has their flaws and mistakes and as we recognize this, we can still love them for the great things they do. That's really the only thing you need to do.

I think the fandom as a whole looked way too far into this man's personal life. It does not effect us whatsoever and it's honestly none of our business. Al doesn't owe us anything and he's not trying to be a role model to us; we shouldn't be this held up about his personal life. I know it can be hard not to care, but sometimes all you need to do is acknowledge it, accept it, and move on.

I would also recommend reading the biography "A Life on The Wire" by Andrew Yule. It has a lot about Al's life from early days, to romance, to his personality and everything inbetween. It's seriously extremely detailed and gives you a whole new insight on just who that man is!

Feel however your heart wants to feel. You don't have to get held up in Al's personal life like others or form a strong opinion just because someone else has. Something like this doesn't need to stop you from admiring what a phenomenal actor Al is and how he's a fine ass man too. 😭

[autisticandroids]

ive had a tab open to send u this for like 3 days and i keep forgetting so its fine if u dont wanna do more directors commentaries (love when u do directors commentaries) but i would love to read more about so much smoke in a hall of mirrors <333

[the goal here is to provide a director’s commentary, a la the one i did for i fold in half so easily, though obviously less comprehensive. this commentary is for so much smoke in a hall of mirrors.]

lmao this is the one i've been waiting to be asked about. well, one of them.

“You know, he still isn't going to fuck you,” said Crowley, stooped over the lifeless body of a vampire and currently pulling out its fangs with forceps. The gray lighting of the lab turned the bloody work into a flat and distant thing, as empty as the flesh Crowley played with.

In lieu of replying, Castiel stared at him. He was too exhausted from the political situation in Heaven to try to parse Crowley’s meaning, and besides, Crowley could generally be counted upon to elaborate on his cryptic remarks if left to his own devices. This time proved no exception, but Castiel found Crowley’s elaboration no more enlightening: “Dean Winchester. He isn't going to fuck you just because you're God. Unless you make him, but you holy rollers are rather big on gaining consent before entry, far as I know.” Crowley leered. “I somehow don't think you'd be satisfied with that, anyway. Aren’t you Mr. Free Will, these days? Leading the downtrodden celestials to liberty?”

love to set some shit up <3. lines of consent will be crossed in this story. and cas won't be satisfied by it.

“What are you suggesting, Crowley?” Castiel narrowed his eyes. Every moment of this distraction was another moment they weren’t finding Purgatory, another moment that the war raged on, but Castiel could not keep himself from Crowley’s bait. “Why would my goal be for Dean to fuck me?”

“Exclusive top, are you?” Crowley smirked, still not looking up.

“What?”

“Oh, nevermind.” Crowley went on with his work. Castiel walked over to him.

crowley voice have you forgotten that you're the bottom in this relationship. also, this

“Why are you insinuating that I want to have sex with Dean Winchester.” It was a question, but it somehow became a statement in Castiel’s mouth. He found himself trying to loom in Crowley’s direction, his wings tense and ready to show themselves. Crowley finally looked up.

“My God, you really don’t know, do you? I can’t believe I have to give The Talk to an angel, didn’t you watch Adam and Eve frolicking in the Garden or something?”

“I am aware–” Castiel began, starting forward, but Crowley cut him off.

“Doesn’t it hurt you? To see him with that woman?” 

The question hung in the air. 

Crowley looked at him as time stretched on. Castiel tried to answer.

“Dean and Lisa are… happy together.” He knew that his reply was inadequate. He knew that was not what Crowley had asked. Crowley knew as well, judging by the smirk he was sporting.

“What is it, exactly, that you want from Dean? Have you ever asked yourself that?”

“I want Dean to be happy. I want him safe.” Castiel stared Crowley down.

“That’s not all you want, feathers,” Crowley leered. 

“Then tell me, then, Crowley,” Castiel advanced on the demon, who momentarily looked less sure of himself. “ What is it that I want?”

“You?” Crowley, regaining his composure, looked Castiel up and down, “I’d wager you’d like Dean naked on silk sheets with… hmm… fuzzy pink handcuffs? The really vanilla kind that close with velcro. Maybe a ball gag.”

It was the disrespect that got to Castiel. Not the disrespect to himself, but the disrespect to Dean. The disrespect of Crowley painting such a vivid picture with his words. Castiel could see it in full color. 

His blade was at Crowley’s throat before he could think about it. He had his vessel’s hand around Crowley’s tie, and he’d shoved him against the wall. Crowley looked gratifyingly afraid.

“Do not speak of him like that.” Castiel could feel his wings unfurling almost of their own accord, and he watched Crowley cringe.

“Calm down, angel,” Crowley gasped. “Good lord. I’ll make a mental note that you get hot and bothered when you’re hot and bothered.” 

crowley is obviously right here. this is the first of many moments in this fic where cas reacts to the triggering of his own desires with violence. like, crowley talking about dean in a sexy way forces cas to confront his own desires. which cas reacts to with violence because he can't process it. it's a loss of control that cas can't accept or deal with. like, desire is terrifying to cas it's so big and powerful and he can't escape it. and at the same time cas does, in canon, have a history of... equivocating between sex and violence, let's say. i'm not the first person to point out the erotic charge in his shoving dean against the wall in 4x22, or in 5x18, for example. there's his interactions with meg in 5x10, which blur the lines between sex and violence very effectively, and of course there's the famous crowley wall shove in 6x20. obviously i've argued in the past that that this non-sexual physicalization of sexual desire as a kind of naivete re: sexuality and i still think that's true. like cas is naive and he's acting out sexuality without understanding exactly what he's acting out like this bird that can't figure out why is isn't eating the worm, or at least, he is in seasons four and five. here, in the period between seasons five and six, cas is in his own kind of transitional place. he still lacks a certain level of awareness but he knows a little more now. he knows enough to feel uncomfortable, ashamed, afraid. he hasn't named what it is he wants to himself yet, but he's getting there. but anyway, cas attacks crowley partly because his own desire terrifies him, and partly because being caught by someone else in the act of experiencing that desire terrifies him and makes him ashamed, but also partly just because he's acting out a sort of erotic physicality.

Castiel yanked on Crowley’s tie, and he gagged. He stared into Crowley’s terrified eyes as the demon struggled for breath, holding Crowley inside his vessel with a wing over his mouth. 

Then Castiel let him go.

Crowley coughed. He looked up at Castiel, angry and wary.

“Let no one say I don’t keep my enemies closer.”

Castiel stared at Crowley for a long moment. Then he took flight, not caring where he would land.

so! i wrote this whole scene basically as it is with very few alterations in december 2020. i then did not touch it for months, because i really needed to kind of rework WHAT the fic was, y'know.

-

“Barachiel, Zephon, Nuriel, Cambiel, Arakiel, Kokabiel, Uziel, Netzach. All dead,” Rachel said. “We should never have attacked the Seventh Layer.”

i spent so much time looking at lists of angels online to get these names. and THEN making sure they weren't in supernatural. because this fic is canon compliant and all these angels are dead. nuriel is specifically a reference to @spriteofmushrooms' fic though.

“It was our best option,” Castiel said, looking away. “We need access to the Conduits.”

“I don’t see how the Conduits can help us without a source of power. We should focus on conquering Heavens.” Her vessel’s nostrils flared. She was learning to use it to emote, it seemed.

“We need to be able to travel the Firmament freely.”  She was right, of course. The Conduits were nearly tactically useless. But she didn’t see the big picture, and how could she? She would never understand what he had to do. This war wasn’t going to be won on the battlefield.

i was really concerned with this section. i wasn't sure it appropriately conveyed exactly what's happening. essentially cas and his revolutionaries are fighting a literally unwinnable war. they're outgunned and outnumbered. so cas is essentially just trying to keep his little revolution going long enough that his plan with crowley works out, because once he's god he'll be able to win the war for them. which means that his strategic decisions now don't really matter. he will always be sending his soldiers to die in unwinnable battles, because he can't TELL them that because they will turn on him. like, as much as working with crowley and becoming god is really his best choice here, they're angels, and they haven't had free will for all that long. they're not gonna get past their prejudice against demons, they're not going to get past their discomfort with blasphemy, and they're not going to get that sometimes you have to make tradeoffs. so all he can do is lie and abandon them to die while he sits in fantasy los alamos trying to make the bomb.

“Perhaps if you’d been there–” She turned from him, unable to handle what she herself was implying. 

He wished he could tell them all where he’d been, what he’d been doing. Instead, he gritted his teeth. Once Purgatory was open…

-

“Losing, are we, Cas?” Crowley managed smug even as he squinted against the light of the Grace Castiel was spilling from a cut on his vessel’s right arm. Shameful relief that the battle was over flooded him. Yes, I am, Castiel thought, that’s why I need you. Outwardly, he scowled. 

Crowley took his lack of response in stride: “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got little old me in your pocket. Come see what Daddy’s brought for you to play with.” He made an expansive gesture to the three alphas: siren, arachne, and ghoul, bound in warded restraints to metal rings in the wall of his lab.

we as a society need to acknowledge crowstiel daddy kink and how it could kinda bang. but like more seriously i do think of crowley as thinking of himself in season six as kind of taking cas under his wing, mentoring him, and specifically mentoring him in sin and moral ambiguity. and, crowley being crowley, he sexualizes everything. he's like dean, it's a defense for him, a way of eschewing vulnerability. hence, this absolutely rancid dialogue moment.

“Good.” Castiel nearly spat the word. He hated to praise a demon, but Crowley had done well. Surely one of these creatures could lead them on the road to Purgatory.

like his brethren, cas really hasn't gotten over his ingrained prejudice against demons, although he recognizes he needs crowley anyway. a lot of this fic is really about like. cas getting over himself. it's about him working through his sense of propriety. which is maybe good and maybe bad, but it's what he has to do in the situation that he's in.

He investigated each using tendrils of God’s Grace. The siren was in the worst condition, a line of ichor oozing from its mouth. Still, it was the only one to attempt to speak to him.

it can smell your weakness boy.

“Castiel,” it hissed, and coughed. A siren’s glamor was meant to show a human their ideal lover, but through the eyes of an angel it was only a soft, appealing glow about the naked, withered creature’s body. Their passive telepathy, however, apparently still worked fine. 

:3

Castiel cut the bindings on the arachne. He had work to do.

-

Rachel had said to him, “ Raphael’s forces are overwhelming. Dozens of angels have died, Castiel. And you… we don’t even know where you go. How can an army succeed if its commander is an absentee?”

And he’d said. He hadn’t said anything. He had nodded. But Rachel had been summoned by one of her lieutenants. And Castiel had found himself in Lisa Braeden’s kitchen, watching Dean stir powdered pudding into a pot of hot milk. 

cas is also in this fic like. crucially his situation is simply very painful and stressful. so he's avoiding it. as is his wont. he's procrastinating. he doesn't i've said this before but the biggest thing dean is for cas in season six is a distraction. like, specifically an illicit one. he's neglecting his duties, and worse he's doing it for illicit reasons, and this is very shameful for him but it's also like. the only bright spot in his day. like, season six deancas thesis for cas is 6x10 "much of the time, i'd rather be here." he doesn't want to go watch his soldiers die. so he takes a little break. also originally the pudding was going to be custard because my family go wild for some bird's custard but americans don't eat that.

The woman and child were in the other room with the television, but the house was large enough that they could not be heard, even as Castiel sensed their presence. So Castiel watched Dean in his solitude, as he twirled the whisk in his skilled fingers, and reminded himself that this was what he was fighting for. 

-

“I’ve brought you a gift.” Crowley grinned. 

“A gift?” Castiel was perplexed.

“Took rather a bit of work, if I do say so myself. I was planning to save it until we actually succeeded, but then I thought, well, wouldn’t that be a bit pointless? Once you’re God , you’ll have whatever you please.” Castiel did not flinch. The obscenity that he and Crowley had planned was nothing short of a necessity. Crowley was still smiling. “And you look like you need a bit of cheering up. Politics doesn’t suit you.” 

making it clear here: cas doesn't want to become god. it's blasphemous and it makes him uncomfortable. but something must be done.

“I see.” Castiel waited for Crowley to finish monologuing.

“Well, don’t you want to see it?” Crowley asked, giving Castiel a theatrical pout.

Castiel disliked being forced to agree to something, even if they weren’t exactly sealing a deal, but he was curious.

“Alright.”

Crowley snapped his fingers, and before Castiel stood– stood–

His own senses and the senses of his vessel told him different stories as to what stood before him. 

He couldn’t… see it. There was nothing there. A whiff of something constructed and artificial, but it was… absent. Mindless. Soulless. 

But it was there. It stood before him, and cast a shadow on the floor. A masterwork of molecules, a symphony of chemical and structural engineering, a tapestry of bone and sinew and nerves and blood and beating heart.

And his vessel’s senses told him… 

A male human, nude and perfect. Full lips wet, glistening eyes wide, broad shoulders well-proportioned, sculpted muscles shining, soft skin tanned, flaccid penis large and shapely, strong buttocks beautifully rounded, long legs slender and graceful. It was–

Dean.

Castiel looked over at Crowley, and as soon as he did, cursed himself. He was sure his inner state showed on his face.

“Well, do you like it?” Crowley grinned at him. “The body wasn’t much of a hardship. The construction of flesh is well within my demonic purview. But giving it enough of a mind for any purpose you might want, that’s a little trick I learned from my dearest mother. A touch of magic comes in handy when attempting to construct a homunculus consciousness.” Castiel could only stare. 

really important that i have crowley mention rowena as much as possible. someday i will write a fic where i explore his mommy issues.

Crowley snapped his fingers, and the thing – the Dean – blinked. Focused on Castiel. Its lips parted in a small oh.

“How may I please you?” the voice was… The voice was just right, as well, and how could it be otherwise, coming from that throat? How could it be anything but perfect?

“You–” Castiel forced himself to look away, and stared at Crowley instead. He found himself without human language. His Grace (God’s Grace) sang, and he was suddenly, disgustingly grateful that none of his brothers knew where he was. He didn’t know what it was he was feeling in that moment, but he felt a pang of terror that whatever it was might show in the wavelengths of his wings or the rotation of his polytopes. 

i thought a lot about angel trueforms and how to do them in this fic. i essentially settled on like. not describing except for like. some random details that clearly don't gel, in order to convey alienness. i also leaned on some like. themes. cas is more geometric than most angels. he has polytopes and 5-manifolds. overall it's important to me that angels are creatures that like. exist as almost mathematical constructs? they interact very directly with the laws of physics.

“You’re right, by the way. He’s absolutely exquisite.” Crowley added, and Castiel snapped back to himself.

Crowley had made this thing. Crowley had made this thing, all the while salivating over Dean’s– over some imitation of Dean’s body. Appreciating it for sexual pleasure. Possibly even making use of it in some manner. Castiel felt the throat of his vessel constrict somehow. 

“How dare you. How dare you– you– you–” Castiel lost his words again, but he knew that he felt rage. He didn’t need language. He brought up his hand and snapped the fingers, sending a pulse of Grace into that beautiful, empty body. 

again we have cas enacting violence when confronted with his own desires but this time, it's much more obviously erotic. cas is sending his grace into dean's empty body, resulting in a wet explosion. this was absolutely an erotic act or rather a re-channelling of erotic desire.

The sound of the explosion was… wet.

Crowley blinked at him, soaked from head to toe in gore, just like the rest of the lab, and Castiel’s own vessel. Castiel cleaned himself of the remains of the thing he had disintegrated and flew away, leaving Crowley to clean things up.

-

“Rahab, Bariel, Lahabiel, Nelchael, Soqedhozi, Armisael, Zachriel, Oriel,” Rachel said.

-

Lisa Braeden’s sofa was wide, and Castiel was grateful for that. It meant that while she and Dean sat, his arm slung over her shoulders, Castiel could perch on the arm without fear of accidental contact that might weaken the glamor that hid his vessel. 

The child was in bed. The television discussed some sort of upcoming human societal upheaval Castiel believed was called an election. Red bars with different statistics filled the screen.

haha i love to make jokes

“Why are we watching this, baby?” Dean murmured. “You know I don’t care about politics.” Castiel saw him running a hand up her thigh. She wore a skirt, pale gray and pleated. Dean’s hand dipped under the hem of it, and she giggled.

or not. obviously this is like. dean is saying this because like. he also wouldn't care about cas' angel war. which is why cas isn't involving him. cas is like. so alone he really can't trust or be honest with anyone but crowley and he hates crowley. and this line exists to make him feel even lonelier because it reinforces that dean wouldn't care.

“Turn it off, then, if you want.” Castiel could see her wriggling, repositioning her hips. Dean leant forward to kiss her. With the hand that had been on her thigh, Dean blindly poked at the coffee table until his hand found a black bar covered in colorful buttons. He pressed one with his thumb, and Castiel felt a signal zip through the air, jolting his celestial form where it brushed against the edges of this plane. His vessel stiffened. The screen went black.

this is one of the reasons it's important that angels are like. mathematical constructs of physical laws. like to be clear cas parsed that - dean accidentally sending a sensory stimulus to his trueform because cas is made of light and physics and so are the infrared signals that come out of a tv remove - as a kind of erotic touch. dean has accidentally touched cas in a way he should not, as a human, be able to. it's intimate and jarring and arousing.

The two humans turned inward, making their lovers’ motions, locked at the lips. Castiel found himself mostly watching Dean's back. Dean returned his hand to Lisa’s skirt, pressing under it and tugging. Lisa writhed as though she were attempting to escape from some bond. 

A moment later all was clarified as a pair of dark cotton briefs slid down her legs, and Dean assisted her in kicking them off. Castiel was curious. He had rarely had the opportunity to stay and watch so long, and this was a new activity.

to be clear: this is sexual violence, on cas' part. against both dean and lisa. he's watching them have sex without their knowledge, on purpose. he's not that naive. but he's miserable, and he Wants, so he takes.

Dean began making a new motion, a pumping and rolling of his elbow and, from what Castiel could tell, unable to see under Lisa's skirt, of his wrist. Lisa stiffened, her eyes closing and mouth opening. She gasped as though in pain. Or– oh .

Dean was using his hand to simulate the act of breeding. He was putting long, slender yet work-roughened fingers – two? three? – into her vagina and stroking her from the inside, putting the deftness of hands used to field stripping rifles to a new purpose. Surely Dean’s callouses deepened the sensation, and Castiel could understand easily why Lisa might desire this particular act. 

cas fantasizing about having dean's fingers in his celestial pussy <3

She spoke, but Castiel did not hear it, too focused on the flex of Dean’s bicep, on Dean's other hand cupping Lisa's face (it must feel so warm), on the curve of Dean’s back as he followed through on the motion of his arm over and over. 

But suddenly Dean was drawing back, tugging at his shirt, revealing acres of golden, sweat-shiny flesh. There was the sound of a zipper, and Castiel could not see, but he understood what it must mean.

Castiel watched as Lisa spat in her hand, reaching between Dean's legs. He could hear Dean's heart rate increase, the slick sounds as Lisa pleasured him. Dean's hips shifted, and his jeans fell slightly, revealing just the tops of sculpted buttocks. 

Then: a crinkling. Dean was reaching into his pocket, arm at an odd angle. The maneuver shoved his jeans down further, revealing more perfect flesh. 

It wasn't until Dean retrieved the square packet that Castiel understood. Of course. A rubber sheath. That favored human method of thwarting God’s will. Castiel wondered why it was necessary: what human female would not wish to be sown with Dean's seed? Was he not the ideal mate, strong and beautiful in body, quick and cutting in mind, generous and loving in spirit, a God among men? Castiel felt the lips of his vessel part slightly.

Perhaps Dean had denied her. That must be it.

so i had already written this part when @pregstiel published in the darkness (of this gas'n'sip) which has a really similar moment and i immediately messaged her like oh my god mind. anyway castiel mpreg moments.

The pair shifted, reorganizing themselves until Lisa’s legs were thrown about Dean’s waist as he held himself over her, one hand on the back of the couch for support and the other clutching Lisa to him as he thrusted. 

And Dean was thrusting now, the muscles of his back rippling under his skin, his jeans resting halfway down his thighs, exposing his ass and the top of his thighs, also tensing and flexing with the strain. Soft, wet slaps came from between the two bodies. Lisa’s hand snaked under Dean’s armpit and squeezed his jutting shoulder blade.

Lisa wrenched herself up, pressing her body closer to Dean’s, and now Castiel could just see her face over Dean’s shoulder. He watched as her mouth stretched into a cry, and then another. With each sound, Dean seemed to move faster, as though egged on. These vocalizations held some power over him.

Castiel found himself imitating the rounding of Lisa’s lips.

He sent a tendril of Grace down her throat, examining her mouth, her larynx, her lungs with his celestial senses. The way her vocal folds vibrated during each moan, the pressure of her breath, the shape her tongue took. He contorted his vessel’s own vocal folds, attempting to use his Grace to reshape them to the right tension to achieve a similar frequency, and, just experimentally, raised his voice alongside hers. 

this is my favorite he like touches and fondles her body with a kind of erotic fascination without her knowledge. again like this scene is sexual violence. not because he wants her but because he is jealously obsessed with her. also this paragraph lead to like a multi-hour argument/hash out with @restlesshush who is a linguistics major because i wasn't doing the anatomy right at first which i fixed but THEN i wrote some stuff that was like correct but insufficiently clear? like using both vocal folds and vocal cords even though they're the same thing out of synonym avoidance. anyway to be clear here cas is quite literally (temporarily) changing the physical nature of his vessel to be more like lisa. he is single white femaling that woman rn.

She could not hear him, of course. Nor could Dean. But still their cries were in chorus as Dean fucked her.

-

“You know, it’s an absolute joy to watch you work,” Crowley said. His hot breath ghosted over Castiel’s vessel’s ear. “All in control like that. You’re nearly… Godlike. ”

crowley doing his best to get cas to get over himself. like part of the reason crowley is doing this is because he recognizes, reasonably, that cas' hangups (various) will be a problem. and part of the reason is that torturing cas is fun. and part of the reason is that is makes him feel, like i said, like a mentor and corrupter. and he likes that. it makes him feel more powerful. and he needs that because he's working alongside a volatile creature who could crush him like a bug lol.

Castiel paid it no mind. It did not matter. All that mattered was information. All that mattered was a gate to Purgatory. All that mattered was an end to the war, once and for all.

If only Rachel could see him now.

“Answer the question,” he told the siren as it trembled.

“I told you, I don’t know.” Its dry voice was interrupted by a string of wet, hacking coughs. “I’d never even heard of Purgatory before you started,” it stopped to hack again, “asking about it.”

Castiel thrust his vessel’s hand into the glistening wound in the siren’s belly, sinking in up to the wrist. This was something he could do. Something he could affect. Sirens had little in terms of internal structure, but they did experience sensation, and Castiel took full advantage. He spread his fingers in the stringy moistness as the siren screamed. Wetness dripped out around him, soaking the sleeve of his coat. He shoved his hand in further, nearly to the elbow, twisting his wrist, and gray ichor began to pour from the siren’s nose and mouth. It shuddered, convulsing around him.

FIST! THAT! WOUNDPUSSY! and thrust inside a moist body and cause it to shudder around you.

Warm fluid splashed across his face,  dripping from his eyelashes and running down his cheekbones. The siren’s venom. It had spurted from the glands in the thing’s mouth. An instinctual response to save itself. Castiel spat, not wanting to risk falling prey to some effect, even knowing that as an angel the siren should hold no power over him.

cumshot. you guys know the drill. anyway cas voice i'm a good little angel boy i will not experience The Effect. no desire here! the siren cannot control me! i'm not anxious about that at all!

The siren jerked. It wasn’t a death throe, sirens had rather specific death requirements. But Castiel presumed that the creature wished it was one. He twisted his wrist again.

fist him!!!!

He felt Crowley give a pleased exhale, and withdrew his arm from the siren’s body. It barely twitched, hanging limp from its bonds.

Castiel reached out with his Grace. He needed to heal the siren’s injuries. It was too defeated now, in too much pain to care if more occurred.

But.

A mistake.

He glanced at the creature not with his celestial perception, but through his vessel’s vision.

Liquid green eyes stared back at him, set just above cut cheekbones. Plush lips spattered with blood formed the word please.

A gentle caress of Grace became a burning, cleansing flood, and he and Crowley were left staring at the ash where the siren had stood. 

his grace is literally IN the siren and then he sees the sexy deansiren face and experiences an uncontrollable surge of energy. like if there is one thing that is absolutely going on in this fic it's that cas' grace is a sexual organ. that's very clear earlier with the dean doll, and it's clear with the tv remote, and it's clear when he puts his grace in lisa to explore her body. but it's also an instrument of violence because cas like still hasn't really differentiated the two, though he's working on it. he comes in the siren and it dies. at the same time, he's still also motivated by the terror of his own desire. and he's also motivated by the affection he has for dean. the siren was begging for death and it was using dean's face. that's going to get under cas' skin.

Crowley rounded on him.

“What the Hell did you do that for?”

“It had nothing left to tell us,” Castiel said, voice bland. “We’ll have to find another alpha.”

Crowley scowled.

-

Castiel spun, neatly dodging an attack against his easternmost obelisk and deflecting with his left 5-manifold. His attacker whipped another thickly scaled, ultraviolet lizard tail at him, but he ducked into a local pocket universe, then took advantage of the opening left by the strike. 

again like it's important to me that angels are constructs of the laws of physics. they can do things like duck into pocket universes.

All of Hadraniel’s eyes focused on Castiel for a moment, and then on the blade piercing Hadraniel’s own molten core. Castiel wished he could make that final moment of life last for centuries. Millennia. He wished he could make his apologies, that he could just explain to Hadraniel why. Why it had to be this way. Tell her that life would be better, for all angels, once this civil war was over. Tell her that there would be freedom. But most of all, Castiel wished that Hadraniel had never been here at all. That this death hadn’t happened. That none of the deaths on this battlefield had happened. That there was no need to fight. If he could make them understand–

Then a wave of God’s Grace washed over him, and Hadraniel was no more.

i was kind of torn here because originally all these angels used he/him pronouns because i liked the idea that all angels use he/him pronouns. or more accurately they use a neutral pronoun that is translated to he/him because they are genderless. but i was worried that that might get confusing with rachel so i pussied out. embarrassing.

Castiel turned back to the fray, and saw Phounebiel rushing him. He met Phounebiel blade to blade, the impact sending ripple through the eleventh plane, where their swords met. But Castiel was a Seraph now, and Phounebiel still only a Malakh, as Castiel had once been. It was easy to overpower him, and Castiel forced their intersecting blades forward until Phounebiel died by his own sword. 

Phounebiel had taken time to consider Castiel’s pitch, when Castiel came asking for him to join the ranks of Castiel’s rebels. He had almost agreed. But he had hesitated. He had told Castiel that the battle was unwinnable. That Raphael’s forces were too powerful.

my KINGDOM for a version of season six where there's some episodes where cas runs around convincing various of his brethren to join him like the election plot in netflix lucifer.

Now Castiel watched as his brother’s blossoms wilted, and his engines ceased to whirr.

As he focused on Phounebiel, waiting for the flare of Grace, he felt an emanation. 

Castiel.

It came from Damabiath, and as Castiel reoriented himself on the eighth plane, he saw Karael’s blade fall, surely a fatal strike. He could not block or dodge, Karael was too powerful, too close, Castiel posed too awkwardly. 

Castiel readied himself. 

On some treacherous level, a part of him held the thought that death might be a relief. His memory could stand as a martyr, and he would no longer have to lead his brothers to freedom. No longer have to profane himself with demons and deity. No longer have to fight losing battle after losing battle while Heaven tore itself apart. No longer have to watch his brothers die. No longer have to kill them.

It seemed… peaceful.

and like that's crucial here, right? cas is at rock bottom. he really has nothing else to lose, emotionally. this is the catalyst to him like. giving up on his hangups in the next scene. he's too suicidal to care about propriety anymore

And then Damabiath was there between him and Karael, and the fatal strike came down, but it did not pierce Castiel. Damabiath’s Grace flooded over and through both of them, Castiel and Karael, and both were frozen.

But Castiel was quicker to recover from the shock, and dispatched Karael in short order, piercing straight through his transverse wing and into his center.

The battle raged on.

-

Crowley’s lab was empty when Castiel stormed in, slamming the doors open with a gust of wind powerful enough to knock implements off tables. Good.

like cas' primary motivation here isn't lust it's like. rage. he's lashing out. he's so angry and frustrated and miserable that he's essentially being like okay. that thing i wasn't supposed to do? i'm gonna do it. to SPITE you. although he isn't like actually spiting anyone except his own superego, you know? like his own desire is kind of secondary.

The floor was smeared with brown and dark red. Crowley rarely bothered to clean up spilled blood and viscera, reasoning that there would always be more, and besides: it would make for a more unsettling atmosphere for any prisoners. Castiel was glad of this habit now, as he flooded the room with his Grace, searching out the leftover molecules of one body in particular.

He found it. Part of it. Enough. 

He knitted it together with the power of Creation. It was not difficult. 

He had already remade this body once.

-

Some Heavens were neutral ground, hastily agreed upon during wartime because angels needed to be able to pass through them, regardless of their affiliation. These Heavens were not suitable for Castiel’s purpose. There were too few of them, and too many angels likely to pass through. The hard-won Heavens of his own side were likewise too populous, and discovery there would be far worse. Only one option left.

Castiel took himself to the center of Raphael’s territory. He was a single angel, he shouldn’t be perceived if he was careful enough. And Raphael’s domain was vast. Castiel’s army had managed to carve out a few thousand Heavens, a mouse’s bite of the celestial infinity. Raphael had the rest.

this is also cas being intentionally self-destructive. he's taking risks because he has given up caring and is just acting out against every rule of good sense he can think of, at least partly because he wants to die.

The denizen of this Heaven was alone. His wife had met her soulmate six years after he died, and was spending most of her eternity on a beach in Malibu with him. Only one memory of this man had made it into her rotation, an evening drinking cocoa during a small blizzard in Maine. But this man’s core memory was baking cookies with her in the middle of the night, while they laughed and the television blared in the background, comforting and incomprehensible. 

Castiel had chosen this Heaven primarily because it was stable. Most humans cycled through their memories frenetically, but this man fixated. A twenty minute loop of the same night in 1974. Better yet, the memory took place in the kitchen, but the noise of the television was a crucial element, so it contained a totally empty living room. 

and you chose it because you're a sad lonely jealous boy. clown.

Castiel wished the man had thought to buy a slightly longer couch. No matter. It would do.

Heaven rejected the bodything. It was flesh. Not vessel. Not souled being. Just molecules and electrical signals and a little bit of earthly mysticism to imitate the forms of life. Reality rippled, and for a moment Castiel feared there would be some convulsion. A tear. An expulsion. Heaven would rend asunder and all of Raphael’s followers would converge on the disturbance, and he would die humiliated. 

Instead, Castiel felt a pulsing tug on his Grace.

Of course.

His essence threaded through the copy now, just as it did the original. Enough of it that the empty thing was not quite empty. Indeed, it felt far more like it should, because now it carried the marks of Castiel’s remaking. Of his Creation.

again. cas' grace as sexual organ. not just because it's in dean but because he creates with it. it's reproductive.

Well, not all the marks. Castiel stepped closer.

“How may I please you?” said the thing. It did not flinch back. Did not cover its nakedness as the real one would.

Castiel felt God’s Grace (his self) (His self) flow through his vessel and encouraged it to congregate and coagulate, let it pool, let it gather in the palm of his vessel’s right hand until the flesh began to glow, not with Grace, but with plain, molten heat.

....and that sexual organ comes from god. put a pin in this.

The body did not move as Castiel brought that hand close. But when he pressed flesh to flesh, there was a piercing, satisfying scream.

in his anger and frustration he is enjoying torturing this deanbody. it's a punching bag for him to lash out against in his misery, and it's also a symbol of the desire he is so afraid of and he is so disgusted with himself for harboring. enacting violence against it punishes himself for engaging in this disgusting act, and it also protects him from the terror of desire.

In the aftermath, the thing shied away from him for a moment, but it lacked the mind to remain afraid for long. Instead, it traced a finger over the puffy, raised pink brand on the flesh of its shoulder. Castiel’s final mark. His signature. His seal.

Castiel moved– was– forward. His vessel did not move, rather, Heaven shrank around him, until he and the body were chest to chest. Not yet touching, but so achingly close.

Castiel inflated his vessel's lungs.

It only took a slight push for the thing to collapse backward onto the sofa. It was soft and pliant, built to be shaped to his will.

He found himself wishing for a little resistance. Perhaps a sarcastic jab. Some kind of mockery. Something of the human this homunculus imitated. But the mindless thing only watched him with parted lips, ready to receive revelation however he wished to give it. 

i don't know if people caught this but what cas is wishing here is for the dean doll to object, to not consent. and like part of that is motivated by cas' issues. he thinks that what he wants from dean is just too disgusting, too awful, and that dean could never desire him or care about him that way because poor castiel so alone in the world no one care him no one understand him. like it is absolutely a reflection of his loneliness and self-disgust. but he is also absolutely wishing that this felt more like a rape. and it's not really hurting anyone, the doll is just a doll, but it's indicative of something very unpleasant about his state of mind, and like. where he's at. one of the main theses of this fic is very much like... repression and self-hatred can lead a person to do awful things.

The nose of Castiel’s vessel wrinkled.

The doll’s legs bent easily as Castiel pressed it into the couch, folding it just so. He knew he needed access to its genitalia for this. It was supple and flexible, he could press its legs up and to the sides such that its body was nearly folded in half and its thighs formed an inviting gateway.

Castiel’s vessel was also a male, but no matter. He knew humans had an auxiliary entrance, shared between the sexes. He would use that.

yes babygirl dehumanize it as much as possible. be so disgusted by your own desires that engaging in them feels like doing violence to your partner, so much so that you have to dehumanize them.

The body’s penis was soft. That wasn’t usually the way of things, but Castiel was not sure it mattered. He had no plans to make use of it.

Castiel glared down at the doll. It was so much flesh, laid out before him, open and wanting. He ran the tips of his vessel’s fingers down its chest, and it shivered a little. Its lips parted, and Castiel…

In order to– to mount the thing, he would need to be on top of it. He positioned himself with one hand above its left shoulder, and his knees between its thighs.

He knew he needed to free his vessel’s penis. On Earth, he would have to deal with the complex fastenings of his human garments, but here they were only a half-formed image, a thought shared between Heaven and Castiel. They were gone. 

For a moment, all he could think of was this scene through other eyes. The hero Castiel debasing himself in animal filth. Not even fornicating with a human, but something far lesser, and far more damning: he was proving that even in their absence he was prey to their carnal impulses. That he wanted what no angel should want. He could see it now: not just Raphael’s army, but his own, converging on this place to tear him to shreds. All his brethren, finally united, in the quest to destroy him. And if they knew what he had been doing with Crowley, what he and the demon were planning… 

Castiel folded in on himself, a half-fear, half-guilt cringe spanning dozens of dimensions. His brothers’ disgust would be well-deserved, for far greater reasons than those. He could still feel himself dirtied with the Grace of the angels he’d slaughtered since he’d started this war. Or even beyond that: since Dean had spun his vessel in Zachariah’s waiting room, and his whole world was torn asunder. Hadraniel, Phounebiel, Karael, Peniel, Sabrael, Rikbiel… he was forgetting some of their names. Just the ones he had struck down with his own blade. But it went beyond them. His own men: Nelchael, Sophia, Armisael, Zachriel, Oriel, Kokabiel, Uziel, Netzach, Bariel, Lahabiel, Nuriel, Cambiel, Soqedhozi, Theliel, Verchiel, and dozens of others. All dead. He did not know the extent of the casualties on Raphael’s side, but he had seen the decimated ranks. He had seen Anapiel giving orders to the nineteenth flight, a sure sign that Elyon was dead. Even whole garrisons: he had not seen Charm mobilized for nearly three months, and flights he knew had been Charm’s were now serving in Strange, Up, or Beauty. And of course, he had seen Raphael’s soldiers slain at the hands of his own forces, brother against brother: Machidiel, Galizur, Kutiel, Zadkeil, Cahethal. More. More and more, until the planes of Heaven echoed empty. All pointless, because angel against angel was not the grounds on which Heaven would be won. All of it on Castiel because he alone understood what needed to be done, compromises that had to be made, the blasphemy that he had to become. All leading Heaven to ruin because he could not find Purgatory, take control, and end this war.

this is really the point of this fic. this paragraph. also as soon as i wrote this fic i sent it to @fluorescentbrains (physics grad student) to be like you see this??? you see my physics reference??? specifically in this paragraph. (to be clear: charm, strange, up, and beauty are all names of quarks. the implication here is that there are garrisons named after all the quarks, cas just hasn't mentioned them all. beauty is a little outdated as a quark name, truth and beauty are now called top and bottom, but i like the old ones better. so).

Castiel found himself sinking desperately into the warmth of the body beneath him, pressing himself against it, skin to skin. His vessel shook, and he felt himself fall, the heat and movement of not quite human flesh supporting the crushing weight of his entire self . 

and now that cas has had his breakdown and anger has given way to misery, now it cas be about comfort, rather than violence.

He brushed lips to open lips. Not because he had planned it, but because it was his vessel’s instinct, and his angelic nature was occupied with collapsing in on itself. 

Famine had touched him once, and the ecstasy of tearing into raw cow-flesh, laid out on the floor in worship of it, was all he could think of as he licked into the mouth before him. He took and consumed, desperate to suck passion from the mindless thing’s lips.

His cock had swelled while he was distracted, and he needed this doll now. He rubbed against its sweat slick skin, and it curled up into him as though desperate for his touch.

He pushed it down.

The simulated breeding. He needed to put his fingers in it. He needed to sit before it and flick his wrist and– He momentarily considered giving it a skirt, before deciding that was unnecessary to the measure. He shifted backward, and found himself having to perch on the arm of the couch.

Frustration flared.

Castiel reached a tendril of Grace into the mind of the man of this Heaven, and told him a little white lie. Just that the olive green couch he’d bought secondhand with his wife in 1968 had been two feet longer.

this is maybe the worst thing cas does in this whole fic. he permanently alters the memories of a dead man who must live the rest of his existence trapped in this one memory. like it's all he has. and cas perverts it, selfishly.

Castiel settled into his spot.

The emptything's penis was growing erect now, and he took it in hand to keep it out of his way. Fluid beaded at the tip. Castiel felt the muscles of his abdomen flex as he licked his lips.

Castiel knew copulation between human males should require lubrication of some kind, and he ordered reality to become slick and wet around his hand. He pressed a finger to the doll’s entrance. Muscles opened easily for him, flesh stretching like putty in a way that would indicate possible medical issues in a real human, but Castiel supposed it was sometimes reasonable to prioritize function over realism. He pushed two fingers into it, curling and stroking them against velvety inner walls. He felt more than heard the doll sigh, a low, shuddery sound.

Its legs jerked, and it curled up towards him again, but this time he nearly doubled over with the new need in his belly.

He reoriented himself, above the thing once again, and brushed the head of his dick to its hole. The softness called him. He would not put a barrier of rubber between them. The muscles of its thighs rippled as they came up to cage his own.

come fetish mpreg boy strikes again <3

He let his vessel guide him, let instinct tell him to press in and sheathe himself in the body he craved.

The world tilted on its axis, rearranged itself. Castiel until this moment has no idea that human nerve signals could be this intoxicating. Millennia of miracles superseded by his stolen cock embedded in hot, slick flesh.

He found himself grasping at whatever he could reach, his not-of-this-vessel strength leaving instant purple bruises on the body beneath him until his right hand found the puffy pink scar on its shoulder. 

He fucked it without ceremony, hard and selfishly. And despite that he could hear its moans filling the space around them, feel its dick hard between them rubbing slickly against his sweat-soaked stomach. Skin slid against skin over the whole length of their joined forms, every place they touched.

he wants that doll to hate him like (he feels) everyone else does/should sooooo bad. and it won't. it refuses to hate him because it's a thing and this drives him crazy

His need was too great, and his world narrowed. His vessel persisted, but his self, his Grace, God’s Grace pooled, gathering in his penis and the palm of his right hand. Just enough left in his vessel to animate the relevant muscles and keep him thrusting, and he felt his head loll, useless and lifeless. The muscles of his legs, arms, hips snapped graceless and Graceless and awkward with the sole goal of keeping him enrobed in pleasure.

pretty sure enrobed is a word they only use in chocolate bar marketing.

“Dean.” Hearing himself say it, his own voice wrecked and desperate, he shuddered. He pressed close. “Dean.”

Cas.

He could almost hear it, in among the wordless moans.

Cas, Dean cried, hungry for him. Desperate for him. Cas, I want you. Cas, I’ve missed you so much. I’ve always wanted you. Cas, Cas, Cas, God, Cas, Cas. Cas, please.

this is like. to me. the saddest moment in this fic. cas finally lets himself imagine what he wants to here. while he's fucking a sex doll that can never give it to him.

Cas leaned down and cut off Dean’s cries with a kiss, slowing his thrusts so they could savor this moment, this ultimate joining and togetherness. He took a moment to savor the softness of Dean’s body, welcoming him in every cell. Made for him. Suffused with his Grace.

Cas slid his left hand up Dean’s chest, pinching a nipple on the way, and finally cupping the back of his neck, cradling Dean’s head in his fingers. He kissed him again, rubbed their noses together, brushed his lips to each of his cheeks. He clutched Dean to him, and Dean clutched him back, wrapping his legs tight around Cas’ waist, urging him onward with purpose.

Cas took with abandon. He took from Dean. Took with Dean. He felt Dean shake beneath him, body rippling with the power of his orgasm. Dean’s body worshiped him, craved him, loved him, tightened around him.

God, Cas.

there we are. here's cas fantasizing about being god. just a little. because then he can have whatever he wants. i've talked all the time about meet the new boss as a deeply erotic experience for cas. he's gotten past his hangups about sex with dean, or at least, fantasizing about sex with dean. he's now losing his hangups about the blasphemy of being god. and the thing about being god is, he can have whatever he wants. and like, becoming god is very much at least partly erotic for reasons of wanting to be dean's god as well, obviously.

Cas felt himself teeter, tip, and finally fall. 

Whiteout. Castiel melting down. Pleasure. Reality wavering. Castiel destroyed. Heaven flickering. The world turning. Castiel reforged.

Remade in God’s image.

he's lost his previous identity. like that's what i was saying earlier about cas being suicidal and at rock bottom. destroying his hangups and repression feels like destroying himself, it's a kind of ego death. which he has just experienced at the moment of orgasm here.

Cas collapsed upon the broad chest beneath him. He closed his eyes, nestling into hard pectorals, caring nothing for the quickly-growing-tacky sweat soaking everything or sticky stripes of semen painted under him.

He felt a hand card gently through his hair and sighed. He could stay here forever. Would stay here forever if it weren’t for the fact that that outburst of energy must have been felt by every angel in the Firmament. Surely they were all converging on his location, on this little Heaven he had found, his own slice of paradise. But the hand stroked his face, cupped his cheek, and he could not bear the thought of leaving this moment.

“Dea–”

but he can't quite stand the vulnerability, still. he catches himself imagining it was dean and he can't let himself do that.

Castiel snapped to attention. He stared down at the bodything, the emptything, the not-dean-thing that he had made use of. It blinked back up at him, guileless. Seemingly unaware of its debauched state, the fluids covering its belly and the bruises dotting its chest.

“How may I please you?”

God’s Grace boiled over inside Castiel, hot and cleansing. He felt its flow, flowed with it, became it, until the body beneath him was filled.

Castiel did not flinch when it exploded.

For a moment, he stood, envesseled, soaked in blood and entrails and his own semen that he’d injected into the shameful doll.

the anger returns. the shame returns. also, the equivocation between the explosion and ejaculation finally becomes totally explicit.

Then he shook himself. Ordered the truth to make his vessel clean, and clothed, and presentable to another angel’s eyes. Soon his brethren would find this place. It was best he not be present when they did.

Besides, he had a war to lose. He had a God to become.

so this little rock bottom experience has given cas a lot of things. he's refreshed and he has taken a moment of pleasure for himself, but also he's just like... gotten over himself. he's gotten past some hangups. including the one about blasphemy. he is newly re-committed. honestly when i wrote this fic i thought the sex scene at the end was the weakest link because it's like way less erotic than like, the siren gore, or the lisa and dean scene. but like. i've really come around on it.