#Sam canonically hating Halloween is so funny

[samnarc]

Sam not enjoying Halloween as a teenager but always dressing up for Dean. Always wanting to see Dean's reaction when he walks out the bathroom dressed a random chick from a horror movie and headed to a 'party' (he's just going to hang out at the movies or the park, he couldn't stand parties.)

Dean sort of hates it, seeing his baby brother leave the house looking like a pervs dream guy. Or his. It obviously hurt his feelings too, seeing Sam smile and leave without a single word.

And when Sam comes back to the motel, Dean is all over him. Asking if anyone touched him, or even dared to look at him. All Sam does is reassure Dean that nobody has touched him and that he saved himself that night for Dean.

It was sort of a ritual — every year Sam dresses up just to come 'home' and have his overprotective boyfriend brother rip those skimpy clothes off. And they both know it was just a game to them, just a special foreplay that only happened on Halloween.

[kyupidos]

i wanted to write something else in regards to diasomnia, and you could say twst in general—in fact you can consider this a part two to:

but today i wanted to talk about one thing in particular:

mages, ( or at least fae ), and them being a minority group

* i’m treating these as different but connected subjects btw—separated by a header. you’ll see it, trust. el oh el.

more below the cut!

thinking about my last post, i came to the realization that i didn’t exactly specify what i meant by fae being a canonical minority race—other than of course sebek’s ordeal as a canonically mixed character. so for starters, let’s dive into that.

( there will definitely be b7 spoilers, but it’s necessary!! plus it’s restricted to lilia’s dream, so don’t worry about outside of that. )

while i’m not a fan of yana, i can admit she did an AMAZING job in realistically depicting the oppression the minority races face in twst.

you can refer to this thread:

but i’ll also be explaining it myself. fae go through a lot throughout the game, and i’m surprised people don’t think about it more often.

the vargas event sheds a good amount of light onto how fae ( specifically pixies ) are treated, which is basically dog water. their home is basically getting invaded whenever the event occurs, and each time the students are essentially being tasked with kicking them out, especially in the instances where you see how the students can’t understand what the pixies are saying due to the language barrier.

you can also refer to the fairy gala event, where the students sneak into the gala to retrieve the mage stone used for the fairy queen’s tiara. and here..sam basically admits to possessing fairy dust illegally, which is explained to be a source necessary for fae survival—which basically implies there’s fairy dust trafficking occurring in the world of twisted wonderland.

( by the way if anyone’s curious, this is occurring on chapter four of the fairy gala event ).

we even see these sorts of things outside of events—crowley keeps fire pixies in the fireplaces of nrc as a heating system, a cheap power supply.

not to mention..apparently, it’s normal to be taught how to summon them for them to do menial labor FOR you.

( * i honestly don’t get how people side with humans knowing all of this…either you missed them ( weren’t able to get to certain events ) or are late to the fandom, all of which is understandable,, or you just didn’t read. also brings me to another reason why sebek hating humans is understandable, el oh el ).

now moving on to the bit that involves the book 7 spoilers, which i believed i addressed in the first part, actually—the fact that in lilia’s dream, the fae are actively being colonized as they fight in a war against the humans. reminds you of how in real life, white people were jealous of poc’s rich land and therefore wanted to take it, no? honestly i get disgusted thinking about why people would ever have a reason to like or side with henrik. fae are effectively the minority among the minority ( like bipoc, considering they’re basically what the “i” stands for, indigenous people who had their land being stolen by the white colonizers. honestly, it’s very obvious people who side with humans in twst don’t know anything about our real world history at all ).

also, like how the thread i mentioned before talks about, there’s other things with reflect how the minorities of twst are treated: in the first halloween event with the magicam monsters, malleus’s horns are tugged on and compared to bike handles ( and i know it’s not meant to be intepreted that way but i worry about how fans do, considering how fae age works and he’s a minor, but that’s a post for another day. if you guys want to hear it, i wouldn’t mind ). the reason this being something to note is because horns are live bone, based on dragon anatomy. they have feeling in them—so when there‘s a significant amount of weight on them, it hurts.

also, nocturnal species having virtually no assistance from the school ( after all night classes are never mentioned ), octopus merfolk, hyena beastman, etc., are considered lesser. like i said, the thread is good to look at if you want more, but anyway.

( i have realized that this post is getting a big lengthy, so i’m using a header ( banner? ) to cut it up a little..patooey! not to be mean, but this is sometimes me when people purposefully are ignorant to these things. )

anyway, we now move on, finally—to mages in general and why i consider them a minority group as well, even if they’re definitely not on the scale of the fae race.

i understand where people may think that things like this aren’t just numbers. but there’s a reason why it’s referred to as “minority” and “majority”. i,, kind of thought it was obvious if you took any math class ever, but whatever. i mean even if you’re white, if you were in say, japan, you’re the minority compared to the majority which are asians/japanese in specification. i will NEVER act like white people should be considered a minority group in GENERAL considering world history ( reverse racism isn’t a thing, i reccommend looking at this. it’s a myth really ), but it is literally statistics. plus, even white people can be discriminated against, and i can admit this as a person who is bipoc ( but let’s be real you cannot be racist towards white people ).

anyway, back to twst. no matter how you look at it, mages are a minority group given the literal statistics given to you in game. only 10% of the human population hold enough magic to even lift a cup, basic level. we don’t know the percent for other races, but this is still a very telling statistic in the rarity of mages, thus making them what i call them—a minority group.

now i’ll say this; fae are born with magic, and fae have magic ingrained into their society ( plus they don’t even have experience with modern technology ), it’s a part of their day to day life, though as i mentioned before, seeing as they’re the minority among minorities especially considering the human-fae war mentioned before, that just affirms that fact that mages are to be considered rare. ( plus it’s mentioned again in b7 humans greatly outnumber the fae, and even in the world map you can see briar valley is small ).

something i’ve noted and will say right now—the fact there are mages that belong to high society doesn’t automatically mean they’re not a minority/not oppressed. like, consider actual human history. can nobility/royalty, major world leaders not be a part of an oppressed society? african leaders, mexican leaders, etc, all who are people in power, world leaders who were oppressed by colonizers and killed. being someone in power doesn’t mean you’re not oppressed. not to MENTION present day celebrities and people in power ( i mean look at meghan markle ).

it’s true, while i say “there are mages”, you can look at twst to see that a majority of them are actually well off. but personally, i see this as a fact when we look at mages, we’re focused on night raven—which is quite literally a PRESTIGIOUS and PRIVATE academy meant for mages who are the cream of the crop. of course we’re going to be presented with many mages who possess power at least even if just influentially. also, of course we’re going to be shown how mages are perceived in society comfortably. we’re in a place where mages are the majority attending night raven as the prefect, though this is about in general to the world, so there’s that.

also, the idea that non mages are the ones being marginalized against, i kind of doubt it. i think there’s a clear reason why, at the very least, it would be happening inside night raven. remember how i said white people can be discriminated against, just never be racist against? i think that’s what’s happening here, given the way riddle acts with the prefect and the fact they had a magicless upbringing in book 1. while mages are the minority in general, in night raven they’re the majority. so among the mages we see, of course it’s easy to interpret it as non mages being the ones suffering the most in twst’s society. but i don’t see it that way, especially since unreliable narration exists, like with fae vs humans.

( yk how like, restaurants based around a specific ethnicity will give people not of that ethnicity a different menu with higher prices? when mages discuss magic levels, i feel like this is the equivalent el oh el )

( and anyway, that argument clearly falls apart when you look at ruggie.. i can see him fading away right now.. a large part of his character is that he and his village are in poverty if that. wasn’t obvious. if he can belong to a prestigious academy like night raven but still be in that kind of financial state, there are obviously mages who go through the same, he was just the lucky few to manage to make it into nrc. )

also, before society became accustomed to mages. again looking to the human-fae war, there was a large period of fear where rather than mages, they were referred to as “witches and wizards”. i don’t have much to emphasize there, but there having been a period of fear like that is rather telling.

while i understand mages have a special place in the workforce ( i mean fourth year students at night raven go off-campus for hands-on learning and to go job hunting ). but also..i think that’s pretty obvious given how magic is a very important resource even still among twisted wonderland’s society. after all, henrik was mining briar valley’s resources without permission, and since one of fae’s must valued resources involved the fairy dust mentioned earlier ( aka magic based ), even though mages were still feared at the time, it’s clear that magic itself is and back then was still valued even so ( i mean obviously, who wouldn’t want magic..which brings me back to the fact of colonizers wanting poc’s rich lands and such ). it’s just now in present day twst society, mages are considered “equal”. ( riddle mentions that their current society has “growing” diversity, so i can only guess things still need change ).

which is ALSO why i don’t think rollo was right about magic…uhm..because you know, fae rely on magic to live. their day to day lives. if exterminating magic means basically also exterminating a race…i don’t know you guys i don’t think that’s right!! sweats!!

but, anyway..that’s the wrap up of this rant. if you want to ask questions, brings things up to me or anything, i don’t mind comments!! just like..be respectful yk, heh.

[pallasperilous]

Funny Bone

The other day Supernatural9917 threw out this meme as a cracky Halloween Dean/Cas prompt and I was SO MAD, because I then had to write it:

And so here it is. Goddammit.

Funny Bone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761150 Words: 4930 Castiel/Dean Winchester Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Skeletons, Bad Pick-Up Lines, No Angels AU, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Gore Mature (mentions of lewd acts, canon-typical violence, and some truly horrible pickup lines)

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland. It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

Discovering the bunker in the first place was a helluva surprise. The whole facility is legitimately batshit; Dead Guys of Letters knew how to live (and, apparently, die. All at once.).

But after plowing through a dozen rooms worth of priceless treasures and crusty boobytraps, even Sam was looking kinda full up on shock and awe.

“We can hit the basement tomorrow,” he said. There was a big smudge of dust across his nose and some cobwebs in his hair.

“Nuh uh,” Dean answered, kicking the door shut with the toe of his boot. “If there’s shit still kicking down there, we gotta clean it out before it cleans us out. It’s that or we’re sleepin’ in the car.”

“Ugh,” Sam said, as if twenty minutes ago he hadn’t been losing his mind over a rare book about werewolf hemorrhoids.

So discovering that the basement included a no-shit actual dungeon felt more like an unanticipated bonus, and stumbling across a skeleton while exploring it barely even registered. Skeletons and dungeons! They go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor, inside a big circle of greasy black ash.  It looked a little mildewy in in places. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.

It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

“Welp,” Dean had said, holstering his gun and wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re all clear. Let’s head back upstairs, salt the shit out of everything, and then we can pick up some groceries.”

“Do I get to buy a vegetable that doesn’t fit in a bun, or are we still in the refractory period?” Sam snarked from the corridor.

“I don’t see you cookin’, “ Dean started, shuffling back towards the hall, and that’s when the skeleton butted in.

“Are those astronaut pants?” it asked. “Because your ass is outta this world!”

Dean absolutely did not scream, but it’s possible there was a yelp. 

He almost unloaded a clip into it – unclear what that would’ve possibly done, but it’s good to start with the simple, available solutions. Next he nabbed the lighter fluid off of Sam and dumped out half a pound of kosher salt as a chaser and set the fucker alight.

This does not have the intended effect.

“Baby, I’d like to put my meat on your grill,” the skeleton says, greenish flames dancing between its ribs, “because you’re hot, and I’m smokin’.” Then it sits up a little, just enough to shoot Dean some finger guns.

“What the fuck,” Dean says.

Sam makes a little evaluatory noise. “Sexually harassed by a skeleton,” he chuckles. “I think that’s a new one. Even for you. Is that a new one? I know a lot of strange shit went down in Purgatory.”

The skeleton perks up even more at that, grungy eye sockets sweeping up and down Dean’s body. “Are you a time traveler?” it asks. (Maybe he asks, because the voice is pretty deep and dude-ish, although possibly just on account of its vocal cords being leather shoelaces.)

“Wh…no, I’m not a time traveler,” Dean fibs. He’s more of a time trafficking victim, anyway. “Oh, wait, god,” he says. “Please don’t tell me you’re asking that because –“

“– I can see you in my future,” the skeleton finishes, eagerly, and Dean really wishes this thing had eyebrows so he could tell if they’re waggling.

“Yeah, okay. That’s enough for today,” Dean groans. “I need a drink.” He starts to back out of the room as a pre-emptive strike against Bones commenting on how he hates to see Dean leave, but loves to watch him go. Dean’s working on stumbling back again Sam’s left shoe when the skeleton pipes up one last time, this time with a husky, anxious edge.

“I realize that Purgatory isn’t accessible through a simple chronological shift,” it says, teeth chattering. “But it does require travel between modalities, and if you’re capable of that, I would very much like to speak with you again.”

Dean and Sam’s heads slowly swivel back towards the skeleton, like two little pizzas on the same Lazy Susan.

 An hour later, they’re still in the dungeon, working on dousing the skeleton with every possible anti-bad-stuff solution they’ve got, just in case he’s a vampire skeleton or a ghoul skeleton or a witch skeleton or maybe just a wendigo that’s incredibly bad at its job. In between progress reports, he’s still hitting on Dean.

“Dude, don’t you have an off switch somewhere?” Dean asks him.

“Well, Dean, you certainly make me feel like a light switch,–“

“– because you turn me on,” all three of them say in unison.

The skeleton looks a little embarrassed, which is kind of impressive when you think about it. “You’ve…heard that one before?” he asks.

“I spend a lot of time in bars,” Dean deadpans. “Okay, sage is a no-go.”

Sam strikes a line off on the clipboard he found upstairs. “Is this part of a curse or something?” he asks, glancing up at Bones. “Like on top of being a sentient skeleton, you can only speak in horrible pickup lines?”

The skeleton shakes his head, which produces a sound Dean recognizes from his kneecaps on cold mornings. “No, the spellwork allows me to speak freely on most subjects; except who I am, or how to free me. But it’s helpful to use language modern humans can easily understand.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, it is Dean’s native tongue,” Sam says, smirking.

“You shut your face,” Dean hisses.

“When I first saw you, I lost my tongue. Can I try yours on for size?” Bones asks Dean.

“Buddy, I don’t know where you get your information from, but nobody actually talks that way,” Dean tells him. “Nobody sober, anyway. Who isn’t a virgin.”

The skeleton slumps. “I learned from my last visitor. He tried to release me on several occasions, but he either died or abandoned the project.”

Dean arches a brow. “The project being…you?”

“I would be very valuable under the right circumstances.” The skeleton shrugs and casually holds out an arm for Dean to scrape at with the demon blade. “He gave me lessons in modern vernacular as a way to pass our time together.”

“Sounds like a peach,” Dean says, before he can catch himself. “If you have a peach-related pickup line in there, man, you’d better just sit on it.”

“That’s what-“

“I will smash you with a hammer,” Dean barks.

The skeleton relents, but with obvious reluctance.

 They call it quits before Kansas rolls up the sidewalk for the night and leaves them stranded with nothing but two Clif bars and a gross of septuagenarian cans of franks ’n beans. Bones shifts nervously when Dean leaves – “Which is better, pancakes or waffles?” he asks.

“Pancakes,” Dean says, with a sense of grim duty.

“Because I’d like to know what you’re making me for breakfast,” says Bones, his voice trailing off as Dean books it down the stony corridor.

  By lunch the next day (bologna sandwiches, so sue him, he’ll make something good later) they’re pretty sure that Bones doesn’t pose any known, immediate threat – other than to Dean’s sanity – so they switch gears to springing him. Maybe he will be worth something, or maybe he’ll crumble into dust and Be Free, or maybe he’ll just stop being chained to the basement wall, in which case he can become their skeleton butler or something.

There are weird runes on the ankle cuff, so Sam snaps some quick photos and heads upstairs to feel up the library. This leaves Dean in the basement with Bones, some good old-fashioned power tools, and Bones’s ex-suitor’s gross sense of humor.

“You know I can understand you just fine when you’re talking normally,” Dean says. “You’re just reciting some prehistoric shit that idiots say to girls to get a pity-laugh, hoping it leads to a pity-fuck.”

“What’s a pity-fuck?” Bones asks, all mildewy innocence. Dean’s pretty sure the grunge in his eyeball sockets is dried eyeball.

“Pretty much what it says on the tin, my guy,” Dean answers, and reaches for the acetylene torch.

 “Enochian,” Sam says, when Dean surfaces for another sandwich and possibly a beer. He’s really disappointed about the torch.

“Gesundheit?” Dean replies, around a mouthful of bologna. Like everything else here, the kitchen is pretty schwa, although the inside of the fridge required three exorcisms and half a jug of bleach.

Sam paws around the smelly old book in a way that makes Dean feel sorry for the girls Sam dated in high school. “The symbols on the cuff. I think they’re Enochian. It’s a fake celestial language made up by some sixteenth century con artists.”

Dean coughs up a bit of Wonder Bread. “I respect the hustle, but what’s it doing on an ankle cuff in a dungeon younger than Mickey Mouse?”

Sam frowns. “Well, it could be for show. But just because some nutbars made it up doesn’t mean it’s totally powerless. Maybe it does have some kind of…heavenly mojo.”

“Liwl probbem,” Dean observes, finishing off his sandwich. “Def nuh heggen.”

“Huh?”

Dean takes a swallow of beer. “I said: there’s no heaven.”

Sam shrugs. “We didn’t think there was a Purgatory, either.”

“Okay, but if we find out angels are real,” Dean snorts, “then Bones can fuck me in the ass.”

 Sam reports his findings to Bones, who sits placidly on the back of his pelvis, carpals splayed out on his kneecaps. What’s even holding him together? Dean can see what’s left of his ligaments, but they look like petrified gas station jerky.

“Do you know what they mean?” Sam asks him, pointing at the sigils.

Bones’s jaw creaks open a little, then closes again, and then he shakes his skull (something rattles inside.) Finally he makes a little frustrated noise and replies – “Baby, are you a book? Because I’d like to check you out.”

“Hey!” says Dean. “Keep it in your pants, man, I’m right here.”

Sam squints. “I think…Dean, I think he’s trying to tell us something, but the spell on him means he can’t say it directly.”

Bones clenches his fists, releases them, clenches them again.

“Yeah. Keep him talking. Let’s see how close he can get.”

Clack clack clack.

“Uh,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Do I need to, like. Give you some kinda opening?” he asks Bones.

“Sweetheart, I’d like nothing better,” Bones answers, then clacks his knuckles on his brow with exasperation.

“Sorry, Christ. Hit me with your best shot, buddy. Dealer’s choice.”

Bones clears his…ghost throat? and tries: “Tell me, Dean…did it hurt?”

Dean blinks. “When I…fell from heaven?”

Sam claps his hands. “Fucking knew it. It is Enochian, and it does have something to do with this. I think he wants me to check the library for another book. Maybe there’s one misshelved or something that I can actually use to translate. Or I can Google around, maybe there’s a subreddit.”

Dean’s pretty sure Bones has never heard of a Google or a subreddit (for that matter, does Dean actually know what a subreddit is?), but it seems like there’s a glimmer of hope deep in those scum-holes.

 Sam gets translations for a few of the words – “obedience” and something he’s fifty percent sure means “millstone” – but the rest is still gobbledygook, and he hasn’t come down with another update in hours. The dungeon is pretty roomy, but it’s not like there’s a foosball table or a cable TV pickup down there, so Dean and Bones wind up lying on the cold-ass ground, staring up into the dark reaches of the ceiling together and, like. Chatting.

Occasionally Bones goes quiet and Dean glances over at him. He really could just be a totally normal, completely dead dungeon skeleton. A good power washing and the right mounting hardware and he’d be ready for a high school biology classroom.

“So if these runes are a celestial thing, does that mean you’re some kinda demonic...thing?” Dean asks. “Cause I gotta say, you’re a much less of a douche than the demons I’ve met.” He snorts. “I know you probably can’t say.”

Bones sighs (how? With what lungs?). “The last person who tried to free me was a demon.” He shifts a little, maybe surprised that he can say this out loud. “It had been so long since somebody had spoken to me…I’m afraid I came close to actually enjoying his company. But he was no better than his kind usually are.”

“Don’t suppose you caught his name? Maybe Sam or me killed him for you already.”

“He called himself—no, I can’t say it.” He makes a sound resembling a harumph.

Then his skull creaks over to look at Dean. “Does your name start with ‘C’?” he says, very deliberately.

Dean is momentarily puzzled, but he works it out by the time Bones wincingly adds “…because I’ve got a D that wants to come behind you.”

There aren’t too many demons under the “C” tab in Dean’s blood-stained mental rolodex, and when he says the name out loud, Bones makes a sound like an entire set of dominos being thrown down a spiral staircase.

  Crowley is pretty pissed, which is fun.

It’s nice that the dungeon floor already has a perfect trap on the floor; they don’t even have to hit up Ace Hardware for paint. A damp shop cloth and a little nail polish (Wet ’n Wild in “Red Red,” don’t leave home without it) brings it right up to working order.

“Why does it smell like a nail salon fucked a bloody wine cellar?” Crowley says, after he’s settled down a bit. He manifested right in the creepy torture chair (in the shackles, even! What service!) and he made some escape attempts followed by angry noises about rust stains. Now he’s recovered his dignity and has kicked back a bit, legs crossed, fingers steepled, oozing maximum levels of 2 cool 4 school.

“How do you know what a nail salon smells like?” Dean retorts.

“I get a monthly mani-pedi. There’s no shame in a little self-care, boys.” Crowley’s eyes trickle down to their feet. “Imagine what fungal horrors those work boots must conceal.” Then he squints, and looks up, finally taking in the whole room. “Could swear I’ve been here before. Little upscale for you, isn’t it? Did we splurge for a vacation rental?”

“Crowley, why don’t we roleplay Titanic?” Bones growls from the wall behind him, and Crowley’s face goes slack. “I’ll be the iceberg, and you can go down.”

Crowley swallows and slowly twists back, as far as the shackles let him. “Feathers, is that you? Well, as I live and breathe.”

“You do neither,” says Bones, with so much gravelly contempt that Dean suppresses a little shiver.

“Oh, I still breathe now and then, when the mood takes me. I’m a sentimentalist.” Crowley cranes his neck a little harder and squints into the dim. “Goodness, you’ve dropped some weight since we last spoke, haven’t you. Finally let go of all that pesky soft tissue?”

Bones tilts forward and kind of clatters onto hands and knees, then tipsily begins to rise up to standing. Dean’s a little concerned he’s gonna topple right over and they’re gonna spend the next two hours collecting him in a basket, but when he moves to help out, Bones waves him off. After a couple false starts he makes it up onto his feet bones and then shuffles out to the end of his chain, right under one of the overhead lights. He’s still a good couple feet off from Crowley, but Crowley looks like he wouldn’t mind a few extra acres.

Bones sways a little bit, just enough for Crowley to wince. “You didn’t come back.”

“I got busy.”

Sam shifts impatiently. “What is he?” he snaps, gesturing at Bones.

“Exceedingly dull,” Crowley says. “I should’ve guessed you were friends.”

Dean uncorks a fresh bottle of holy water.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Crowley amends, quickly. “And even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with him. It’d be like giving a laptop to a pair of howler monkeys.”

Dean puts his thumb over the mouth of the water bottle and holds it over Crowley’s head. “Try me.”

Crowley scoffs, rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he is, since he’s useless as long as he’s chained up. And I wouldn’t have left him down here if I had a single clue how to smuggle him out.  I haven’t even been in here since the Bay of Pigs; I’d worked a loophole in one of the defense spells here that let me in. When it broke down, I lost my exploit. Wasn’t worth the bother after that.”

Dean slides his thumb a millimeter north of a perfect seal, and a fat drop of water busts its ass open on Crowley’s forehead and sends up a thin line of steam. “Good thing I’ve got a limitless supply of bother,” Dean notes. “Sam, we still got those syringes in the trunk?”

Crowley snarls. “Go ahead and melt me like the cartoon shoe in Roger Rabbit, it’s not going magically make me come up with a solution.”

Bones grunts and rattles his leg chain. “Do you speak Spanish, Crowley? Because you look like the Juan for me.”

“Did I teach you that one? You absolute xylophone.” Crowley glances back at Dean. “Do your worst, Squirrel, I deserve it.”

Sam frowns. “He uses the lines to get around the spell’s speech restrictions. This is something about speaking languages…were you able translate the Enochian symbols on his cuff?”

Crowley blinks. “What symbols?”

 After a whole lot of faffing around with mirrors and terrible cellphone photography, they confirm that Crowley can’t see the symbols at all.

“More demon-proofing. Clever little buggers, those Men of Letters,” Crowley sighs. “A real shame they were peeled and eaten like bananas.”

Finally Sam just hunkers down with a pencil and pad to transcribe the entire ankle cuff, and Dean awkwardly holds up Bones’s ankle, like he’s being sized for a glass slipper. When they shove the results in Crowley’s face, Dean watches his eyes dart along the words.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, boys. Along with the usual wankery, there are instructions on how to release the cuff. I can translate it,” he finally says, with an unusually low inflection of bullshit, “but I’ll thank you to release me, first.”

Dean is flummoxed. “What, you’re not gonna haggle for a cut of the profits or anything?”

“Activating the release mechanism will free him completely, and restore his…restore him. I’d rather be at a safe distance.” He glances back at Bones, looming in the shadows. “A continent or three should do the trick.”

“If it doesn’t work–“

“I’d be more worried about what happens if it does,” Crowley sighs.  “But feel free to summon me back for tea and sympathy. Here, I’ll even give you my number. But please, no personal photography. I pity you enough as it is.”

  Crowley finally smokes out, and Dean has a beer to celebrate while Sam looks over the list of what they need and Bones clatters his fingertips like castanets. The ingredients are (as always) larded with shit that’s exotic and expensive; Sam is looking crestfallen at some of the items. “I’ve heard of all of this, but I’ve only seen maybe half of it for sale anywhere.”

“Baby, are you a yard sale? Because you’ve got some serious junk in that trunk,” Bones monotones. He’s back to lying on the floor.

At least it’s getting easier to translate this shit. “They’ve got all the ingredients here somewhere,” Dean says. Sam looks skeptical. “C’mon, Sam, no way these dudes would use a lock when they didn’t have the key.”

The ensuing scavenger hunt takes a few pints of elbow grease, but at least by the end they’re both familiar with the Bunker’s floor plan, document filing system, and inventory records. They find virtually everything in-house, though they do end up driving to the nearest farm stand for some hen’s eggs and rosemary (and heirloom tomatoes, because they look bomb).

Dean christens – or maybe exorcises – the kitchen range with some red meat, and they fuel up with burgers before taking the plunge. Dean’s still licking the ketchup off his fingers when Bones pipes up one last time. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

Dean and Sam brace for impact.

Bones sighs. “That’s not the start of a pickup line. I genuinely have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you so intent on freeing me? You could have just left me down here. I’m not a threat this way. You only have Crowley’s word that you might profit - or suffer - from my release.”

Sam gives Dean a look; it’s the look that says I sure hope you have an answer, because I think this entire thing has been dumb as shit and half as necessary. It’s a look Sam uses pretty regularly.

“Uh. It’s the right thing to do? As far as I can tell, you haven’t hurt anybody or done anything else to deserve being down here. We went through all those records upstairs, and there’s no note that says ‘by the way, that skeleton downstairs eats babies for breakfast.’ This place is cool, but the dudes who built it were obviously shady as fuck.”

“I see.” Bones sounds a little disappointed.

Sam fake-coughs into his hand, and Dean sets down his paper napkin. “Also, you seem cool. Like, you’re easy to hang out with. Other than the stinky one-liners, and we’re gonna wean you off of those.”

Bones straightens himself out a little. “Thank you, Dean. You know, on a scale of one to ten, I’d rate you a nine.”

“Okay, okay. Why not a ten?”

Bones sets his chin on his knuckle bones with a tidy little clack. “Because I’m the one you’re missing.”

Dean groans, but he thinks the guy might be smiling, somewhere behind that skeletal grin.

 By hour two, Sam’s pretty tuckered out from pulverizing a billion and three mummified dove livers while reciting nonsense syllables, and Dean’s right arm is about to fall off from holding up this giant silver swizzle stick that’s either a really weird short sword or a decorative javelin, but Bones has never looked perkier. He’s lying on a nice white bedsheet and looking fresh as a recently exhumed daisy.

“Okay,” Sam rasps. “Light the candle and we should be good to go. Any last words, Bones?”

“Are either of you religious?” He crosses his arm bones over each other.

“Fuck no,” Dean answers, before Sam gets a chance to launch into it.

Bones shakes his skull fondly. “You should reconsider. Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

Dean makes a gagging noise and lights the candle.

 What happens next (well, after the cuff pops open) is some of the freakiest shit that Dean has ever seen, and his Freaky CV is pretty fucking impressive, thanks. Bones tells them to avert their eyes, “just in case”, but he takes a peek between his fingers anyway, because he’s an idiot.

For a second Bones is just lying there, and Dean has a second of real disappointment that maybe he’s Moved On Past The Veil or something, but then he starts…foaming. It starts out kind of uniform and colorless, but then it really picks up speed and volume and starts to separate into swaths of distinct and horrible colors and textures. He closes his eyes again for a second to give his stomach a chance to reboot, and when he looks again the foam is gone, and instead there’s a whole lot of angry jelly trying to form into organs.

Just as the jelly is really getting its shit together and looking more like lungs and intestines and stuff, the heart-jelly pulses once and sends out a fistful of big squishy vines…veins? and a fat white worm of nerve scrambles down the spinal column and starts putting out franchises. This is followed by some disturbingly tasty-looking red sheets of muscle that swiftly sheathe over all the whole scene, and then the muscles start sweating out fat and cartilage and this is the point where Dean decides that looking away is actually definitely one hundred percent for the best. Even then, the sounds are tough to handle.

Kinda wild: he’s seen people taken apart, but watching one get put back together is somehow gnarlier. Well, if this guy is even a person. It’s a human skeleton, sure, but god knows even Mickey Rourke has one under there.

Finally everything seems to have quieted down.

“How you doin’ over there, Bones?” Dean asks, and dares to take a peek.

Bones is crouched down in front of them, fists balled up in the bedsheets (it’s a relief that the bedsheets didn’t get accidentally sucked into the muscle layer or something, like one of those surgeons who leaves a sponge behind). Dean sees white guy skin and some dark messy hair and gets the gist of a decent build.

The face slowly cranes upwards, and Dean is really truly ready for anything here; tusks, fangs, Klingon forehead ridges, gingivitis. Instead he gets a faceful of hot math teacher. Bones’s eyes are still closed, but he’s frowning like he’s mentally reviewing his strategy to explain the quadratic equation to a roomful of horny teens.

He slowly rises to standing (yikes! Naked! Dean is a Moderately Bad Man, so he glances, but just long enough to register “nice), uncurling slowly and carefully.

Then he’s all the way up. Bones squares his shoulders and straightens the last kink in his spine, and the frown resolves. Dean’s about to say something, when his eyes snap open, and this cold white light absolutely blasts out of them, and fuck, Crowley wasn’t kidding: this guy is definitely A Thing. The whole room flattens and distorts in the light. Shadows race up the walls like they’re looking for a way out, then snap together into the shape of enormous ragged wings, stretching thirty feet higher than the actual ceiling clearance.

Then the light dies down; the wings fade into regular-grade shadows. Instead of a terrifying unearthly avatar of Oh Shit, Dean’s looking at a buck naked thirty-something math teacher. Who happens to be an unearthly avatar of Oh Shit. And has nice eyes.

“My name is Castiel, angel of the Lord, Seraph of the First Shield,” the avatar says, in a piss-shakingly resonant version of Bones’s voice.

Then: “Do you speak English, Dean?”

“Yes?” Dean fumbles.

“So do I,” says Castiel, and smiles.

Then he makes finger-guns.

  Castiel sticks around for a grand total of five minutes before he’s suddenly gone again, because angels are (a) real and they can (b) teleport? at (c) any moment because (d) fuck you, then he reappears six hours later (clothed) standing over Dean’s bed, having apparently forgotten that humans like to sleep; this time Dean does shoot him, but luckily he doesn’t seem to take it personally.   

“I located Crowley,” Bo- Castiel says. The silver sword-javelin thing is sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him; apparently it’s an Angel Blade and it lives in Castiel’s coat sleeve and can vaporize demons. It doesn’t look like it has any Crowley on it, but maybe it’s self-cleaning.

“Did you kill him?” Dean asks, now that he’s semi-coherent and wrapped around a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Not this time,” Cas answers. “He did help, after all.”

“Sure,” says Dean.

“You don’t need to let me fuck you in the ass, either,” Castiel says, and Dean honks some coffee up the back of his nose.

“Oh,” he gasps. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Didn’t realize you could hear that convo all the way down there.”

“Angels have excellent hearing. Mine wasn’t impacted by the spell.”

Dean can think of at least three very private moments Castiel almost definitely could hear every instant of, and longs for death. Or maybe not, since apparently this guy lives in Heaven and could hear him there, too. “Great. Good to know. Noted.”

“But…” Castiel looks wistful.

“What?” Dean nudges him. Dean Winchester: angel nudger.

Castiel frowns. “If I said…” he stops himself. “This is…what I want to say is very irregular, at least between angels and humans.”

“Jesus christ on a goddamn pogo stick, man. It’s three in the morning, some of us have a circadian rhythm and a limited lifespan. Say whatever it is you gotta say.”

Castiel looks up and drowns Dean in his swimming pool eyes, which Dean has learned belong to a radio ad salesman in Illinois, who Castiel possessed a few years back before jumping several decades into the past to run some errands and getting rope-a-doped by the Men of Letters and then warehoused in their basement; after they all spontaneously bought the farm, he just slowly ran out of the power reserves needed to keep his vessel from turning to mush and hey presto, talking skeleton.

Classic story, really.

“If I said you had a beautiful body, Dean,” Castiel says, solemnly, “Would you hold it against m-“

Dean doesn’t let him finish. {AO3 version}

[thestuckylibrary]

Group Ask 115

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silence-lies said:

Hello! I know you guys are busy but i tried every search in ao3 and i still can't find this fic ^^'. It began with steve putting his plane in the ocean and "waking up" in Brooklyn with Bucky. They rebuild their lives in a kind of dream world but Bucky sometimes disapears (when he wakes up to be the winter soldier). It was one of the first stucky fics i read and i really want to read it again :(

tatltaelfairies, kublachin, lalalalawhat, ice-whisper, angeolras, winrowe and four anons sent in 20th Century Limited by Speranza (oneshot | 52,010| E)

wintersrchild sent in Requiem Æternam by hitlikehammers (oneshot | 18,621 | M)

cap2dyke said:

Hey do you remember that stevebucky AU (no powers) fic where Sam sells bird (falcon)-related shoes? I remember thinking that it was one of the only fics where Sam had actual agency and he wasn’t relegated to the role of the “therapist friend”. I’m trying to find that fic but I can’t. If anyone remembers what it’s called, that’d be super helpful. Thank you!

Anon 1 said:

I'm looking for a fic where the only thing I remember is that Bucky calls Steve by the name of a cactus over text and Steve googles it and he's like "I hate that you made me google that" and Bucky's like "you're lucky I didn't call you *this name of a different cactus*" and Steve googles it and the cactus looks like a dick with a bunch of angry baby dicks on it?

Anon sent in Keep Making Trouble ‘Till You Find What You Love by Rena (oneshot | 41,788 | M)

themintsauce said:

Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. All I remember is that Bucky is TWS and no one trusts him, I think he's maybe a little feral. They try and keep Steve away, but he breaks in and just like drops to his knees and then Tony is like, "Oh you didn't say he was a sub." Like it's not ABO universe, it's something else. That's all I can remember if you can help! Thanks!

Anon 2 said:

hi guys! i'm looking for a fic with skinny!steve, where he moved into a new building and bucky was like the building handyman. steve then started pretended that there were mice in his apartment so that bucky could come around and he would be able to see him more often.

Anon and time-lord-no-more sent in Apartment 409 by 74days (oneshot | 4,395 | T)

Anon 3 said:

hey! i’m looking for a fix, i can’t remember much of it but it had steve thinking he was turning into red skull thank you!

Anon 4 said:

Hi! I’m looking for a fic where steve likes Bucky and they’re in high school. Tony has a party (maybe Halloween I can’t remember) and during the party nat and Wanda play the song Micky and steve sings Buckys Name instead of Micky. I think they play spin the bottle and Bucky and steve end up kissing in the closet. (I really only remember the part with the song Micky) thanks so much!! 

Anon sent in Warning Shot* by togina (oneshot | 5,577 | T) *graphic violence

uhteal said:

A really long time ago I read a canon-divergent post-CATWS where all the avengers are really domestic and living in the Stark tower etc and I'm trying to find it again if anyone can help me out? Some of the avengers, including Steve, are kidnapped or go missing and Bucky, Wanda, Pietro, Loki and Victor Von Doom rescue them. Loki and Victor get together and once Steve and Bucky finally get into a relationship they have a child and Nat is the surrogate mother. It's all very fluffy and funny :)

Anon 5 said:

Can you help me find a fic? Steve and Bucky had a one night stand after meeting at a club it's the best sex of Bucky's life but Clint's dog went missing the next morning so he left Steve's without a note? And it turns out they work in the same building on different floors and find each other again at the holiday party and it turns out Natasha has been trying to get them together for a while? I read it forever ago and can't find it!

greyhavensking said: past bucky/nat

Hi! First off, thank you so much for all the work you put into this amazing blog, I’ve found so many lovely fics through you all. I happen to be looking for a specific one at the moment: post-TWS fic where Bucky and Steve have to come to the terms with the fact that they might have to outlive all their friends, but at least they have each other. Also Natasha and Bucky were involved in the Red Room and she’s disappointed to learn that Bucky sees her as a daughter or a sister.

[ain-t-bovvered]

14x04 Commentary

Zeta and Giuls scream together, and then die.

Me & Zeta will watch together season 14′s episodes as they come out and we’ll do our commentary while watching.

1  2  3

14x04 Mint condition

[intro talking about ghosts]

oh it will be a ghost ep then.

TIME FOR A FILLING EPISODE THEN

zeta: I guess

SO THE BROS CAN BOND

[episode starting]

....lol the beating sound of the television ad.....suspiciously similar to the title into

-really.....? a trenchcoat...? 

-So handsome

zeta: so angry

-lol that’s us with Micheal. 

MOTHERF- THAT SCARED ME DAMN CELLPHONE

- “Hey Sam”. ....

zeta: built by Tony Stark’s second cousin. Damn cool down bitch.

-this is like the LARP episode . Talk shit, get quartered by horses.

zeta: I think he’s already dead. THUNDERCATS.

-uh uh.

zeta: Don’t dude

- why does it feels like the film “Small Soldiers?”

-AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHH ARE THOSE NOODLE SOCKS WITH “SEND NOODS” ON THEM?!? 

[opening amazon] I need that shit

zeta: Hello

-My slob *sobs* that is too cute 

zeta: 80′s are calling.

-OH look it’s your decade.

zeta: Shut up bitch

lol

- OH LOOK IT’S YOU

zeta: SHUT UP

US:

-Naaaaaaaah WhERe iS thE BEaRd. Whyyyyy.  so smooth.

zeta: Dolphin belly

-WHYYYYYYYYYY

- The socks bitch

zeta: cute motherfucker

-Slobby Dean is canon and I’m living

-Cass and Jack are on a Father and Son trip *sobs*

-”Our life is ...a scary movie”.....true dat.

zeta: Panthro kicked my ass. I grew up with the thundercats.

-THUNDERCATS SERIOUSLY LOL. 

-That Panthro is mine”  ....love me some nerdy Dean.

-And Sam’s little pleased smile??...I hate them ...so cute-

zeta:short sleeves.

-Captain Khaki

- The fake laugh of Sam AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHH MY GOD

D” ahahahah so lame”

zeta: the lollipop

-[vietnam flashback to my first fic]

-D”she’s like your twin- Soft delicate features ...”

zeta: Luxurious hair. Look at that happy face!

-My skin is clearing

zeta: my allergies are cured

-"Vintage hotwheels”

-THOSE ARE NOT THE INSURANCE’S GUYS I GET THO. HOW UNFAIR IS THAT?.

zeta: true dat. Oh Chuck , his face is killing me

-Of course he is.    zeta: of course he is

-W  T  F . I HAVE A KINK . THOSE GLASSES IN PARTICULAR ARE MY KINK NOW.

zeta: yep, Can’t word.

-THAT’S MY FIC REQUEST FOR YOU BITCH. GIMMIE THAT .

-ALSO...that switch of mug . DEAN MAH BOY U CUTE.

- Apple ciders !  D” sHE OfFeRed”

-CAMBLES AND SONS’ INSURANCE

zeta: I’m Zelda

- Why do you know what that means?  zeta: Why do you know what that means?

- Sam quickly looked the other way

-DAMN THAT JACKET

zeta: yeah

-He looks like he just came out from Mad Men, and  I’M SO HERE FOR THAT.

zeta: GIF, bitch . also....we don’t eat that much candy.

- [the mom in 50s gears] lol but ....ME

zeta: you

AHAHAHAHAHAAHAH 

zeta: shut up.

-U SHUT UP

HUNTER EXPERTS

zeta: oh crap. the gun porn.  

zeta: LOOK AT

-DAMN he looks good.

zeta: -THAT

me:

zeta: Hello

-wow.   zeta: holy fuck

-What’s up with the mom tho? why she dressed like that?...creepy . Favourite pillow.....ok.

zeta: everything is not fine

-Everything is not fine, I said that in my mind when he said the positive one first.

zeta: I need the Sam beard back.

YES...LASTED A BIT LONGER THAN MICHEAL THO.

zeta: that dude is HUGE

me:  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

- “nice Sam ...smooth”

zeta: smooth

- Sam envying the dude’s beard

zeta: Head tilt. 

zeta: Bow legs bitch

-Super awesome. lol the dude’s jacket tho

zeta: oooooh damn

- I. SMELL .PARALLELS.

- OH HI  ζ

zeta: Shut the fuck up.....I did have the same earrings.

-DEAN IS A NEEEEEERD

zeta: Completely. Look how happy he is.

- I’M DYING STAPH. MY HEART.

- And again there is that focusing on the keychain . hmmmmmmmm my hunter’s senses are tingling

zeta: creepy dude.

-She’s too little to be Sam’s parallel tho.

zeta: everyone is too little, he’s humongous.

-THE KEYRING BITCH I KNEW IT. 

-CO detector. nice save Sam. That fake scream tho.

zeta: 80′s bitch. 80′s.

-S” are you okay?”

Fem!Sam: 

- Fem!Sam “ I was pretty busy screaming” 

-ahahahahahahha lame

-Sam is so offended that the glass didn’t break. “But I used my moose force”

zeta: fuck me sideways

-GOD I LOVE HIM. OMFG . GIF

zeta: he’s excited

-He should not be that excited.

-SEE I TOLD YOU THE FUCKING KEYCHAIN

zeta: Capish   capish

- D : IMMA SMASH- oh no wait *opens cabinet*

-How to make a bomb casually . Sammy 101.

zeta: I think he’s not gonna stay inside the circle.     

if an incredibly hot guy who shouldn’t be that hot in that outfit tells you to stay in the damn salt circle you STAY IN THE DAMN CIRCLE.

zeta: Nope

- OH COME ON....awww please don’t die I like you.

zeta: fine go through him. And those earrings.

-Lol you had leg warmes too right?

zeta: Yep

-Knew it...and those gloves.

zeta: and the fucking top. JFC IT IS ME

-YEP.

zeta: hell.

-I had a messed up childhood     zeta: messed up childhood.

-THat iS noT HoW thAT wOrks

zeta: nerds

-don’t call me that.

zeta: oh fucking hell

-” I TOLD YOU TO STAY PUT”  bitch how many time did I write Dean saying that? I’m having a stroke.

zeta: Casper?! -bitch you bet your ass that lil’ bean Dean stayed in motel rooms and started his scary movies thing with Casper.

- D: “ ...I send you there ..”  hot

-Lol why is that so funny

zeta: don’t know but it is- That side smile.

-GuRL I’M LIVING THAT JACKET

zeta: the pants could be a tad tighter tho.  BABY!

-bitch they are not jeans, they’d explode on Jensen’s ass equation curve.

zeta: true....a tad.

-AWESOME    zeta: that was awesome.

zeta: don’t ruin this for me

-Feelings talk. I’m never getting over it.

-CHIEF   zeta: CHIEF

-whyyyyy

zeta: his watch beeped?

-OMFG I LOVE THAT. GIF...GIIIIIF *whispering* adorable.

zeta: adorable.   Continue.

- what

zeta: spin the bottle. Disappointed. Hurled. looool I’m wheezing.

-I thought Sam didn’t like halloween becasue..you know....DEAD GIRLFRIEND ON THE CEILING ?!?

-Shaggy and scooby       zeta: Thelma and Louise    

-Bert and Ernie .....that’s weird 

-Loving the crazy look on Dean 

and the scared af of Sam.

zeta: oh hell.  ugly.

-dude....you fugly.

-wut....wha....that, that’s the end?  what .....a waste of footage ok

zeta: that was fun.

.

.

.

send an ask HERE or to @waywardbaby if you want or a smoke signal, idk whatever I’m tired af.

TAGS: @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @destiel-honeypie @mariekoukie6661 @dragontamerm  @closetspngirl

[looktotheants-a]

what’s a weird headcanon you have for each of your muses?

hnak has blogs indulge me | accepting

each? well okay

okay this is gonna go under a readmore because i have a fuckton

-takes a deep breath-

hank: probably the weirdest headcanon i posted for him was that his helmet lets him talk to bug identifying otherkin because the comics define bug so broadly that why the fuck not

finesse: very deep into how-to videos on youtube. watches them constantly

cory: compound eyes are really trippy to see through while high

maria: uses a spear in modern day combat for some fucking reason

topher: wears so many sweatervest because he likes the knit textures but hates being given them as gifts because 

doris: might be an angel???

monique: is a connoisseur of energy drinks

success: is actually the least powerful of her family of superhumans, but the only one who ended up a superhero because of some bad luck

mai: deliberately has an obnoxious laugh because she hated her laugh for a long time, then decided to embrace it instead and fuck everyone else if they don’t care for it

slipknot: can tie knots with his teeth or feet if he’s barefoot

kavita: finds starfish inherently funny

mama sharpe: not really a headcanon but one of the weirder plots i had on her for a while was she was trying to make billy turner aka scout into a model because he had one arm and she wanted diversity points

shachath: constantly surrounded by dead bugs that land on her

william: comically unambitious

rose: loves kitschy shit

steven: goes through phases of collecting things but then loses interest and goes for something else so he has a lot of medium-to-large but still incomplete collections of various collectables

cecilia: collects interesting looking wine bottles. also saves ones from important events

zeke: struggles with buying cigarettes or buying comic books every wednesday and always caves into the former

ned: hates the concept of cream pies, but makes them anyway

scott: buys mini m&ms because he swears they taste better than normal ones, but grows them to the size of regular ones so he has more chocolate

bumblebee: has a box of naked barbie dolls tucked away somewhere

june: not a headcanon because this was real canon but she ran over her dad with a tractor

jenny: hates the power rangers because every year for halloween someone suggests she dress up as the yellow power ranger because it’s basically the only costume that can work with her containment suit

beryl: not a headcanon but my weirdest plot wishlist thing for her is i want her to lose an eye because her fc has a strangely large number of movies where she’s got an eyepatch so???

quinn: buys a lot of faer regular clothes at post-halloween sales bc fae includes a lot of ridiculous theatricality in faer wardrobe

maurice: man idk fuck this guy tbh. i guess he’s just really bad at coming up with psych experiments which would be ironic except that his solution is so just throw out ethics altogether so instead of ironic he’s jsut bad

quarrel: puts too many veggies on pizza. basically makes salad on a bread plate

monica rappaccini: hate earnest hemingway bc he was an ass but also quotes him a lot bc he’s just quotable

jason & ian: get about four hours of sleep max every night and run almost entirely on caffeine and cocaine respectively

jericho: will wear as few clothes as any particular situation allows. also her superhero costume is literally leftover costume pieces from theatre

iraceus: his name is actually a portmonteau of his name and his dead twin’s name which is weird if by weird you mean sad

monica chang: has a secret lego collection in her parents’ attic

alice: has a huge collection of trash from neighbors which she shrinks so she can transfer the mass to food and stuff

relinquish: uses diplomatic immunity to fly hot air balloons without a license

aya: prefers to address people with more formal terms because she wants to show that she is polite and nice

kita: wears a lot of sunglasses, like he’s trying to hide something about his eyes even though they look 100% normal but he wants to be more ~mysterious~

jocasta: annoyed by humans a lot of the time and doesn’t want to be seen as human because she’s not, but wants to do human things like have a baby

skyler: surprisingly okay with weed, privately, but wouldn’t say so now after walt

jeremy: uses his powers to make THC

kelly: was ridiculously busy in college because she was doing gymnastics and majoring in marine biology. also i kinda bent the laws of time for her because i decided she had puberty blockers, which wouldn’t have been available at the time but FUCK IT i do what i want

sam: literally everything about them is weird. they’re from night vale. they’re very emotionally attached to their shotgun

daria: not really weird but i think i read way more socialist/communist ideology into daria’s beliefs than the writers necessarily intended

aaron: likes to keep fish and when he’s traveling, he’ll create temporary fish tanks in his hotel rooms

friday: exists in a world where commercial mascots are real and has interacted with at least a few. probably fought the noid from domino’s

lillian: world’s clumsiest vampire

trauma: has a lot of opinions about the difference between goth and emo

elisa: got into psychology as part of a plan to take over a country which isn’t really a headcanon but it’s also just like a weird plan for taking over a country

miguel: pays too much in rent for his apartment tbh because he spends more nights at work than at home

lauren: tries very hard to have a personal life that’s separate from work, but it’s difficult bc she also has to babysit miguel

justin: likes swedish fish bc they’re vegan

xerxes: pretends to not like broadway shows, but does, and also prefers to sneak into them

hiroshi: pretends to be very proud of dropping out of an ivy league school because that seems like a cool counter-cultural thing to do, but actually super regrets it bc he can’t remember why it happened (kita up there was responsible, back at number 36)

yellowjacket: surprisingly nit-picky about cleaning and organization, the opposite of hank

ambrose: i mean this isn’t really weird, to me, but i guess it’s weird to other people, but like one of zir special interests is death positivity

janet: again, not actually that weird, but janet actually likes bugs. like she’s not an entomologist but i hate how often girls are depicted as thinking of bugs as icky, especially superheroines that are named after bugs like wtf

guy: local pyromaniac doesn’t know what to do with his hands

geoluread: laughs in the face of disaster because it probably won’t hurt hues

karnilla: can turn into a motherfuckin’ dragon

tomi: mm idk she’s more of a switch than anything else, but because of her job as a dominatrix and a lot of trust issues, she doesn’t get a lot of opportunity to sub ono

stonewall: literally became a superhero by accident bc she saw a fight at a protest and just threw a pride flag over her face to hide her identity to help the protesters and then stumbled into superheroness from there

winged victory: very socially awkward, despite her very public identity and good speaking skills

guard: speaks like eight languages but will play dumb about that as often as benefits him.

brad: originally had him born in the 60s but i aged him up about 20 years so he could be alive to write kirk/spock slash fic in the early days of fanfiction

kaiba: really way too in love with that fucking dragon

schrodinger: hmmm well i guess like. idk most of my things about schrodinger are tragic or a thinly veiled critique of moderate white liberalism. he likes marmite which i guess is weird