#but he still believes in a good universe

[celestialstarlight27]

Poet!Cas keeps two rumpled soft cover moleskins in his trench coat, a blue BiC pen missing half its ink, and a pencil worn down to a stub. He scribbles out phrases, rhymes, and synonyms during downtime on cases, on long drives across the country since he lost his wings.

He’s always been good with words, but he struggles with the right time to say them. His messy notebooks, pages crammed with tiny Enochian and English lettering, are his equivalent to a hunter’s journal. For every twenty indecipherable pages (they are perfectly clear to Cas, but Dean squints and says they don’t make a lick of sense) he keeps one page clean, marked with carefully developed stanzas.

Tapping his pen against his leg, thinking through nights he doesn’t sleep, poetry is where Cas makes sense of himself, of an Earth he’s never known so intimately, of a single human he’s never known so intimately. Most of his poems are about Dean. He can’t help it when Dean has always centered him, when Dean has always been the one to invite him into the details of human experience and human pleasure.

He writes poems about kissing Dean, about Dean pulling him into bed and making tender love to him on the nights he doesn’t sleep either.

Those poems make Dean stammer and flush bright red. When Sam skims Cas’s notebook, eyebrows furrowed and one fist under his chin, Dean tears it out of his hand and burns redder at Sam’s laughter.

Cas smothers his smile in the collar of his trench coat in those moments. He has never been vindictive, but it feels a bit like payback, like justice, giving Dean a dose of the feeling that overwhelms him every day, a feeling he dissects with the gentle scalpel of his words.

Poetry is his music, his revelation, his new faith in the face of God’s betrayal. Maybe it’s a little silly - Dean certainly loves to tease him about it.

But it’s his, and that’s all that matters.

[mollysunder]

Before the first season of Arcane premiered Riot released this interactive visual novel for the Riot x Arcane event. The setting was a hybrid of LoL and Arcane's universe, Piltover literally on top of Zaun, Cait is the Sheriff, but characters like Silco exist. The whole premise for the story is that Jinx stole some hextech and tapped into the Arcane oand opened a rift between worlds.

That's a lot. Personally I enjoyed this more to just see some characters out in the wild. Silco gets to be his charming self to you, the self-insert reader that's trying to find the culprit of the heist, which he knows was his kid.

Here's Jayce hating on Silco for something Jinx did.

This came out before the show did, so it's interesting to see how the game wants us perceive the characters' dynamics before we get further depth from the show. Most of it's related to Jinx because she makes herself the center of controversy.

For characters like Vi, who's already an enforcer that works directly under Sheriff Caitlyn in this world, she's clearly over Jinx's actions and wants to squash any further escalations.

Sevika is just as harsh and plainly sick of Jinx. I do find it interesting that the novel makes it clear tha Sevika believes that Jinx deserves some kind of punishment, though Jinx did endanger them all by ripping realities into eachother.

The only sympathetic voice outside of Silco in this story comes from Viktor, who after finding out Jinx was responsible for the Rift between realities asks you to remember that she's a real person that lived a life just like him. He goes so far as to contemplate another way to solve the situation and avoid a confrontation that may end with terrible consequences. (It's wild because the show then dedicates a whole scene to him defusing one of her bombs).

My favorite part is near the end where Silco tries to stop Jinx from harnessing anymore Arcane energy because it threatens to upend their reality.

I WISH they got to talk like this to eachother in the show, but so much was happening already. Even better Jinx gets the last words in and it justlays out what's ALWAYS been there.

This scene helped me understand that Jinx was always going to fire her rocket at the council, because she and Silco have both always been motivated to by power. They both know what it's like to be perceived as "weak" and they way it destroyed their lives respectively. It's kind of the reverse of what Mel and Ambessa have going on, you've got the diplomatic intrigue parent and the militarily minded daughter who wants to go further and absolutely will when you're not looking. And that's always been the thing with Jinx, if you give her any form of power, either a gun, a grenade, a rocket, or even magic she will take it and she will use it.

Right after this confrontation you have to defeat Jinx with the Power of Friednship or something (it's been a while). But even as put an end to the near calamity Jinx created there's at least one voice before it ends affirming Jinx's personhood.

It's weird honestly, Jinx didn't turn into vapor or anything, the story's pretty vague about what happens as you try to defeat her.

Well the novel's good when it's good anyway.

[xia0ming56]

Hated that last episode so i drew this to convince myself i liked it

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[neverendingparable]

Problematic muses aren't just "sexy villains who push boundaries a little in a flirty way".

They can reflect ideologies the mun doesn't have, like being sexist / homophobic / abusive, or hold an extreme or radical political view

They're not just muses who have risky kinks or come from controversial fandoms.

You have the right to decide if you don't want to roleplay with a muse whose personality or story triggers you, but you have to let the mun play them as they wish because its their character and they don't have to make them digestible for you.

[sainz100]

oh my heart hurts so much 💔 this weekend is awful

[theladyfae]

i think human nature/family of blood is a really good two parter in how it manages to show how full of shit ten is 🫶

[commonmexicanname]

Good Omens Thoughts

Your honor, in the matter of maybe Crowley's memory wasn't wiped, I'd like to submit the following into evidence:

"Angels are like bees. […] Once you're inside… Well, I mean…" Proceeds to walk by two higher ranking angels unnoticed.

Look at that smug. The smug of someone who was proven right. Crowley knew they weren't going to notice him because he "doesn't matter". He's just "another low ranking angel". How else would he have known that unless he himself acted the exact same way?

He got his proof that nothing has changed in Heaven in the past 6000+ years. And so, "I haven't always been a demon, and they never change their passwords."

In this head canon of mine, his memory didn't get wiped. He still knows how heaven works. He was just a high ranking angel full of himself who didn't bother knowing or remembering lower ranking angels. (Or just an angel who never took the time to know his fellow angels because he was too busy with his singular brain cell making the one thing he was created to do. Thus, making him seem like he was full of himself.) Just like Gabriel, Michael and Uriel. The only thing that made him different was his passion to create, his curiosity, and his love for the universe. His little engineer heart.

The fall humbled him. Literally brought him down from having his heads in the clouds.

It's why he didn't bother introducing himself to Az the first time they met, but does at the wall. Probably also why he felt safe slithering over to him at the wall. Az is an angel he remembered being kind to him and warning him about Heaven, "peek your head out of your clouds", before the fall.

The madness comes from watching this too many times:

[pasdetrois]

on the bachelor and resurrection

Thinking about how the concept of resurrection is touched upon in Daniil’s routes, and how the Marble Nest makes something of a mockery of it, casting him into the role of both resurrectionist and the resurrected. The man with an affinity for the living trapped in a cycle of communing with the dead..

+ the reminders that neither remaining nor returning shall constitute anything akin to a victory for him—just a trick mirror and, if you'll forgive the pun, a dead end

(p.s. the original marble nest line is a bit clearer in this connection, where the word for Sunday can also mean resurrection)

[fellsilver]

Prev. post was also brought on by me thinking Lael deserves to curbstomp SOMEONE, to go apeshit just ONCE, but I don't think she ever will. Oh absolutely she'll defend herself. Absolutely she's killed when the situation's called for it and will again. But, she is a not a creature of vengeance and rage. She'll never get lost in that particular sauce.

[catastrxblues]

hi so i just finished bridge to terabithia and now i’m unwell and my eyes are red because i’ve been crying before i’d even reached 20 minutes of it for i actually knew what was going to happen and by the time i reached an hour something something i just straight up sobbing screaming into my pillow. and now it’s 12 am and i’m still thinking about them. because god, look at them, how they were, the little world they lived in, wouldn’t you just love that, to run away, to escape, to grasp that childhood naivety and innocence that you lost a long time ago, to feel the sun in your skin and the air in your lungs and to paint fantasies and laugh and play and run hidden away from the world and find an old run down tree house and decided to make it your own little shelter and pin up canvases on the worn wood and paint and let your creativity goes wild and have someone understand you and gets you and do it with you, and wouldn’t you just love to have something so constant, so sincere, so genuine, so pure, so real, that there wasn’t anything else. if i knew i was going to cry this much, if i knew how much space this movie would make in my life, i wouldn’t have started this movie tonight. i would have been in peace on the floor of my room, not realizing how badly i actually want something like this even though i would never unironically admit this to anyone in my life or even myself when i’m outside of the familiar place of my mind, for that matters

[nixtorr]

eight and liv but they enable eachother’s murderous tendancies instead of their actual dynamic

[bandsanitizer]

.

[deus-ex-mona]

little brothers and their will to #slay, man </3

[jaymesdoodles]

My relationship with G-d (and religion in general) has severely changed since I decided I wanted to convert to Judaism, and I've been learning way more. Like I grew up in a very xian area, and despite my mom growing up with no religion and being atheist later in life and letting me decide for myself as well. I STILL heavily grew up with xian culture and hegemony. So my idea of G-d was usually only in that view. And idk now I know of G-d as HaShem, and my relationship with them will be a long time to heal, probably a lifetime. But still, it's so healing. It's made me so much more aware of how much that xian view had on my psyche. But I love HaShem, and I can't wait for my relationship to grow with her :]

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.