#this got me out of writers block

[shrimpjuice]

Eighth Year

pjo // hp crossover fic (don't take it too seriously)

Chapter 1 — Poseidon Powers

Percy looked up from the practically decaying map in his grasp, looking tirelessly for the castle Hecate had described to him.

“Percy, are you sure this place even exists?” Annabeth asked skeptically, trudging not far behind him, completely out of breath. “She said it was a huge castle, so we should've seen it by now, right?” 

“I think I see it!” Percy exclaimed, pointing at the ruins in the distance. Annabeth hung her head and sighed, resting her hands on her knees. 

“Percy, that looks like the remains of a castle, there's no way– Wow.” As the pair got closer, the veil shielding the ruins had given way to the view of a majestic castle, though a bit crumbled away, it was definitely a castle. 

“I told you,” Percy said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. Annabeth took the map from his hand and looked at it. 

“Yep, Hogwarts, school for Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Annabeth read, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder. “But how are we gonna get over–” Percy pushed the water in the moat around the castle to the side, giving him and Annabeth dry land to walk on. “Right.” 

Percy smirked and they walked across the moat, clumsily climbing onto the yellowing grass surrounding the castle. Percy let the water fall back into place and the two ventured into the castle, on their way to look for Hecate's lost artifact. 

As they walked through the halls of the castle, Annabeth spotted a courtyard and the two walked across it, sitting at the empty benches for a rest. Before Percy could sit down though, he collapsed right in front of a bench, hitting his head on the armrest. 

“Oh my gods, Percy!” She exclaimed, dropping to her knees to examine his head. “Percy? Percy wake up what–” 

“Are you guys alright? Is he okay?” A voice came from behind Annabeth, a girl's with a distinct British accent. Annabeth turned to see the curly haired girl with chocolate mocha colored skin approaching them. 

“Does it look like he's okay?” Annabeth exclaimed, her hands flailing wildly. 

The girl shook her head. “I suppose not,” She knelt beside Annabeth and observed the unconscious Percy, who's breathing was rather shallow. “Let's take him to Madame Pomfrey then– our nurse. Then I'll have a lot of questions to ask you.” The girl said calmly, gesturing for Annabeth to stand. 

The two girls hoisted the sleeping Percy’s arms over their shoulders, dragging him down into the halls of Hogwarts.

— 

When they got to the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey came running to the three, instructing the girls to set Percy on the closest cot. Percy flopped onto the mattress like a limp fish, his head hitting the pillow with a soft thump. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Annabeth asked, a deep crease in her brow. 

“What happened to the poor boy?” Pomfrey asked, feeling Percy's forehead. 

“He uh… collapsed.” 

“From what?” The nurse pushed, examining the back of Percy's skull with her hand. “He's got quite the nasty bump here,” She noted, lightly feeling the knot growing on Percy's forehead. 

Annabeth hesitated. She couldn't tell these random people Percy passed out from overusing his Poseidon Powers! That would be too suspicious, how would she even explain that? 

“Overexhaustion, we've been walking all day,” She said, and it wasn't exactly a lie. They had been walking all day, just also traveling by water a lot too. 

“Poor thing,” Madame Pomfrey frowned. “Well, I'll keep an eye on him for you, get back to class you two,” she said to Hermione and Annabeth.

“She's not a student, Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione admitted. “I've never seen them before at least.” 

“Grab the Headmaster then, will you? This is quite worrying, these two showing up all injured,” Pomfrey instructed, guiding Hermione to the exit. Then she whispered in Hermione's ear, ‘They could be Death Eaters, the ones we couldn't find,’.

Hermione nodded, and left the room.

—

Hermione walked in minutes later with Dumbledore. Pomfrey was keeping a close eye on Annabeth, making sure she didn't leave. Though, Dumbledore didn't seem the least bit worried at the prospect of surviving Death Eaters infiltrating Hogwarts.

His eyes lit up when he saw Annabeth and the unconscious Percy, still unmoving.

“Children of Hecate!” He exclaimed, his arms outstretched as he approached Percy's cot. “I suppose she sent you, yes?” He asked Annabeth, gazing into her icy blue orbs. Annabeth nodded, leaning away from the white bearded man. 

“I mean, yeah, we're demigods, but not Hecate's–” Percy interrupted from behind Annabeth. Percy? Percy! 

“You're awake!” Annabeth exclaimed, embracing Percy tightly. “Are you okay? You hit your head really hard.” Percy nodded with a wide grin. 

“Is it bad?” He asked, gesturing to the bump on his forehead. Annabeth's grimace said it all. 

“We'll focus on the specifics later,” Dumbledore interrupted. “But I must know, what has Lady Hecate sent you for?” He said, leaning in, bright eyes gleaming. “Will she be gracing us with her presence perhaps? Oh, we must prepare–”

“No, um, mister…” 

“Dumbledore.” Hermione added. “And if not, what the hell are you doing here?” She inquired, leaning in just as intrigued as her overzealous Headmaster. 

“Well, Hecate sent us to find something for her,” Annabeth started. Dumbledore leaned closer in interest. “Some sort of artifact, and she said the Headmaster would know where it was,” She continued, looking over at Dumbledore, who just looked absolutely giddy with excitement. 

“And?” Dumbledore prodded.

“That's really it.” Annabeth sighed. “She didn't really give us any more clues, but she did say it belonged to her daughter, her name was… Regina? No, Rebecca—” 

“Rowena?” Hermione asked.

“Yes!” Annabeth exclaimed. “Ugh, I knew it wasn't Regina,”

“Would this artifact happen to be some sort of… diadem, maybe?” Dumbledore butted in, straightening in his seat and brushing a hand over his long white beard.

Annabeth sat back in her chair, looking up at the stone ceiling decorated with intricate pictures of dragons and… cats? “I think so,” She said it was some kind of tiara? Don't they mean like the same thing?” 

“Exactly!” Dumbledore exclaimed, standing up enthusiastically. “And she said the Headmaster would know where it is, correct?” Annabeth nodded. “Well I do so happen to be the Headmaster, I think I would be of great help,” He said, adjusting the nightcap looking hat on his head. 

Hermione interjected. “But sir, the diadem, isn't it–”

“Shush shush Granger,” Dumbledore said, putting a spindly finger to the girl's lips. “This is the Lady Hecate we're talking about, and we cannot let her down.” He looked over at Annabeth, eyes twinkling. “Well, how about the two of come to my office for some tea first, then we can go and find your diadem.” 

“Sir,” Hermione insisted. “We both know that the diadem isn't–” 

“Pip pip then,” Dumbledore said without letting Hermione finish her sentence. “Off we go then, off we go.”

the actual fic :

[apoorhuman]

Levi: *crying and bawling hus eyes out*

Mc: *comforting him*

Lucifer: .... What happened? *raising an eyebrow at the two of you*

Mc: well... Levi-

Levi: HE FUCKING CHEATED ON MEEE *cries harder*

Lucifer: he? I didn't know you have a boyfrien-

Mc: it's not a boyfriend lucifer

Lucifer: then what is it?

Mc: he's Levi gaming buddy, apparently he found a new much more 'good' gaming buddy so he played with the new game buddy while still with Levi, and couple hours earlier Levi just got dumped by him.

Lucifer: ....... Where's mammon? *Levi cries and wails can be heard in the background*

Mc: well as soon as he found out what that demon did he immediately flies to go to they're place

Lucifer: for what?

Mc: .... To kill him

Lucifer: *dialed mammon immediately* mammon do not kill him

Lucifer: no, I said do not kill him, don't drop him yet, we need to torture him first

Lucifer: good, I'll tell Satan that he can have a stress relief toy, yes bring him here

Mc: ... This is why I love them (the brothers) *smiles*

Mc: Levi... Do you want to watch the whole tsl from season one to three?

Levi: *sniff* four?

Mc: ok *smiles* four season, let's go, help me get the popcorn

Levi: *sniff* okay... *little smile*

[evilkaeya]

Hi everyone I woke up and realized I have the power to write literally anything I want to so I gave Light Yagami period cramps. Read here.

[someiicecube]

I had this post sitting in my drafts for a while and I was suddenly reminded of it haha. 

Anyway, we all know this line from the main character synopsis, right? 

Only humans?

Is this purposeful on the writer's part to specifically mention the curse can only affect humans? Or are humans the only creatures mentioned because that's all the main character has had the chance to... curse with their touch?

Can the curse affect monsters?

Currently, we can't know one way or the other. 

Even if we did touch Leander, bare hand and all, it's Leander. The main character is under the impression that, because he's such a strong and powerful mage recommended to us by the mysterious doctor Kuras himself, it's just something he can do apparently—  although, we as the players know that's not all there is to it... just what is it? Is it part of his supposed monsterous-ness? Does he really know a spell that can protect against our curse? What's Leander's Jungle Juice really made out of? We can't tell yet...

Chosing Leander in this context is such a strategical plot point because he cannot answer our initial question. Is Leander not affected because he cast his little protection spell? Or is Leander not affected because he is/has become a monster?

However, we still can assume that the main character doesn't have full knowledge on what they are capable of with their curse— ya' know, probably being mostly surrounded by humans and such. So, the idea of touching even a monster is probably not a theory anyone wants to test (unless you're a mage, then please do it on some random monster and not the LIs for funzies... unless you want to).

Could this be a seed the writers are planting? Maybe, maybe not. But leaving the question unaswered (by Leander), again, makes the player and main character cautious by nature.

But what if they did slip up?

What if they slipped up and it happened on accident? 

Your bare fist colliding into Ais' chest, skin-on-skin but still a solid blow. Your hand desperately reaching out for Kuras' own, just wanting to feel his warmth once more only for a moment. Your palm sweeping against Vere's shoulder, pushing him away, your skin brushing along the thin translucent fabric. Or your fingers digging into Mhin's wrist as their dagger hovers right above you, their pulse hard against your uncovered touch.

It's startling. It's something you didn't mean to do. Fear grips you immediately; dread rises as your stomach falls. You are as quick to let go of them as your eyes are to look them in the eye and...

Nothing.

While, it wouldn't come as a shock to either Vere or Ais. Kuras, who the main character wouldn't know is an angel at this point, and Mhin are another eyebrow raiser for sure. It didn't affect them, when you know it should. If it doesn't affect them... that would only make the MC raise many more questions about Leander in turn. Ah, what a dramatic way to reveal the fact that the person you fancy is a monster.

Other notes and thoughts:

While, yes, an interesting idea to think about. I'm torn between wanting the monsters to be immune and 'fuck it, this curse affects everyone, even your pet rock ain't safe'. I can't help but feel this idea also lowers the stakes of the MC's curse... if done wrong.

Let's say this, the curse doesn't have an effect on monsters, right? But for each monsterous LI there will be a catch. Say, Vere, for example; a monster who lusts for power beyond him... having a human like yourself with such a deadly curse, well, who's to say it wouldn't give him a few ideas on how to use you it. What? You're still planning on finding a cure? Oh no, but you have him now, don't you? Why need a cure when you have him, your curse, and your soon-to-be mindless worshippers at your feet?

(Won't lie writing some of Vere's points made me think of Leander, but that's manipulation for you)

Or think Kuras, a doctor, an angel who passed through the shroud to watch over humanity. How would Kuras feel if the person he's grown so close to decides their curse isn't worth getting rid of now that you have him— can't you see the danger in yourself anymore?

Or try with, like some previous theories once said for us touching Leander: it doesn't affect him now... but eventually he will devolve into madness like the rest of everyone. But don't just apply that to Leander, now think of everyone else. Imagine finally finding someone you can touch without consequences. It's something that gets your blood rushing and heart pounting with a feeling your haven't felt in a while! However... the more and more you do so, you've noticed they've changed. They're more irritated, they've been having more headaches than normal, and their once beautiful smile twists into something dreadfully familiar. Congratulations, you've made your beloved mad with love! Here's the bad ending! Yipee!

Really, in the end it's all a balancing act, the stake were there and you don't want to take them away before the climax. If you do, place something else in its steed— something to raise them even further than what was initially thought possible.

[pro-depresanti]

How Valentino would give you a tongue piercing

Because the visual refuses to leave my head

‼️‼️‼️🔞🔞🔞‼️‼️‼️ MINORS DNI

You're in Valentino's lap, facing him. One hand is grabbing at your ass and keeps you bouncing on his cock with the exact pace he wants. He manhandles you like you weight nothing, rhythm never faltering. Despite the position, he's still looming over you, his back hunched so he can take a closer look at your face. His other secondary hand is gripping your jaw tightly so you can't even think about turning your head.

He's got your tongue clamped, spit collecting at the tip of the muscle. You're drooling all over yourself because you've been in this position for what feels like hours and are trying to swallow down your whines and moans. You don't know what's worse – closing your eyes and not knowing what's happening, or keeping them open, stare fixed on Valentino's wrist that's holding the piercing needle, the tip of which occasionally grazes the underside of your tongue as he tries to find the exact placement he wants.

You're shaking like a leaf, you feel it in the way your thighs are trembling, how sucking in air by the mouthful comes in a form of shaky inhales, how your stomach is tied in a knot for reasons other than getting your guts rearranged, how you need to constantly readjust your hands from where they are clutching desperately Valentino's neck fluff. As if to mock your horror the pleasure builds up steadily, because as cruel as Valentino is, he 'cares' about you enough to remember exactly how you like it, where all your sweets spots are.

"Aw, don't be like that, baby," he coos at you with mock sweetness. "Why so scared, don't you trust me?"

For obvious reasons, you don't, yet you really hope he knows what he's doing so he doesn't sever an important blood vessel and cause you to bleed out.

Your response comes out as a choked whimper when he drops you down particularly hard on his cock, bottoming out in all but a second. He chuckles and leans in close, your faces inches apart, focus evident in his face despite how nicely you're clenching down on him.

"Deep breath for me, amor," he says almost lovingly as the piercing needle pricks your tongue on the down thrust. You whimper pitifully and force your eyes shut, your hands balling into fists, tearing furr. "One, two–"

There's no "three" as he forces the needle through your tongue so quickly you barely have time to make a sound.

"There, there, the worst is over," he tells you with that condescending sweet tone of his, the jewelry slipping in surprisingly smoothly. He tightens it up with ease despite the gold nail caps on his fingers. "All done. See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

You're still trying to catch your breath, knowing damn well it's useless, not with the way he's still fucking into you so hard you can't concentrate on anything else. You slowly try to close your mouth at least a bit so you can respond, but all it comes out is a whiny sob.

He cups your cheek then, far too gently, and carefully angles your head to look at him. Fingers brush up a stray tear that has formed in the corner of your eye. "You did so good for me, estrella."

The praise shouldn't have affected you as much as it did, knowing it's all fake pleasantries. Still, you keen into the words, leaning into the touch.

Valentino chuckles under his breath, all light-hearted and ever so slightly breathless. "And one of my favorite stars deserves an award, yeah?"

Now with his hands free of equipment, one stays right there on your cheek, his other secondary arm falls down to join the other in helping you move, and the last snakes in between your bodies to play with you properly.

[necrotic-nephilim]

as an apology for being gone for a month, have a uquiz i spent a week making! pls feel free to reblog with which character you got, i worked way too hard on this silly little thing. there are eight different characters you can get that are varying levels of unknown, with comic recommendations for each character <3

[lilmayu]

Magic's Gone

╰ Itoshi Rin x gn!reader

you knew it wouldn't last long, you convinced yourself it was for the better. was it really for the better when it hurts so bad? was the feeling of fighting with him better than the feeling that he will never be in your arms again?

cw // angst ˏ toxic relationship (if you squint or if i portrayed it well) ˏ taken some inspo from taylor swift's song - “all too well” & “1 step forward, 3 steps back” by olivia rodrigo ˏ rin was a bit of a bitch ˏ implied 6 months relationship

you weakly called out towards him, darkness surrounded you as you watched your beloved walk away from you. you stood there, reaching out your hand desperately, “stay... please...” left your mouth yet your voice was drowned out into the endless void that clung to you like a vice.

then you woke up with a cold sweat, immediately shooting up as soon as your eyes opened up. you clutched your chest as if pained, yet the feeling inside seemed to hurt tenfold. you shifted to sit on the edge of your bed, a sigh escaping your lips whilst your hand ran through your hair. another nightmare. it has been constant nowadays. it wouldn't have mattered at all, you would've shrugged it off as your mind trying to trick you again. but no. this time it haunts your very being.

you and rin have never been that perfect couple that you constantly see in those movies, no, but you thought to yourself that nobody was perfect. “there should be at least some effort,” your friend said, yet you dismissed them, saying “he tries.” along the lines and whatnot. it wasn't like you didn't understand them, you saw their point, you knew your worth— does it matter still when it comes to him? it should've, yet you loved him. everyone saw that, in your eyes, actions, everything you've done for him.

but what happens if it starts eating you up? the never-ending thoughts that feed into your very fiber. your mind felt like a battlefield— the constant barrage of anxieties and doubts gnawed at you, leaving you exhausted and on edge. it was like a slow, agonizing poison, seeping into your soul, pushing you closer and closer to the brink. and so it does.

“what's wrong with you?”

crack

“stop being annoying.”

crack

“you're being upset over nothing.”

crack

“can't you shut up for once?”

crack

you stayed quiet after that, watching rin leave through the same door he'd come in with a flower (handpicked) in his hand because it reminded him of you, the same door where he came in with a tired expression on his face and he dropped everything in his hand and sat next to you. he always came home to you, despite the cold air of winter it felt warm once he comes home into your arms— winter seemed to be less cold then.

but after a while, it slowly felt more awkward and tense as day passed by. it wasn't long before you realized that the magic is long gone yet you stayed. through the lonely nights when you guys fought, it became frequent. and you knew this all too well. once this continues as it is, it'll all end.

and you're scared that it might actually be after this. you sit down on the couch, head in your hands as you let the tears slowly soak your hands. you sniffled quietly, feeling the sudden coldness of the winder all over again as you sat there all alone. back at the start. all the way back to zero.

the next day, you didn't see rin at all. morning came and you woke up and he wasn't there, so you assumed he went out earlier than his usual time. you went to school tired that day with teary-eyes, you broke down immediaetley once your friends asked you what was wrong. but you couldn't tell them about what happened, why you were crying. you knew what they'll say, and you knew that's what you're supposed to do. to confront him.

after class you waited for him back at his place, taking a deep breath as your hands trembled slightly. letting out a shaky breath whilst you try to collect your thoughts, thinking of the things you want to say to him. the door opened up with a soft click, and you glanced up and see him walk in. without a word he doesn't even spare a single glance at you, he just walks past the couch and just went to his room.

crack

you felt a pang, a hard pang to your chest as he just walked by. after minutes of collecting yourself after crying a bit, you stood up and walked to his door, knocking gently. the door soon opened up, and rin stood there with the same impassive expression on his face. “let's talk,” you said after a beat of silence. and to your surprise, he didn't shut the door in your face and actually sat down with you on the couch.

you let out a shaky breath, staring down at your hands, “rin. do you still love me?” you regretted asking that, silence filled the room and the tension even got thicker— it was suffocating, the same way the gnawing feeling in your heart that always haunts you every day. it hurts, hurts so bad. you never doubted yourself so much, were you the problem? were you not enough? you were confused and hurting at the same time. did he love you, want you, hate you, or needed you?

yet in a somewhat masochistic way, you still stayed and endured all the coldness you received. it's always back and forth, going over, over, and over again. he'd do something then become cold all over again and snap at you. you didn't understand anymore.

“let's just end this, rin,” you finally said, breaking the silence.

crack

you clutched the hem of your skirt, a tear slipping down your cheek. you furiously wiped it away and let out a dry chuckle, “you were the best, but you were the worst... i should hate you but i really can't.”

you hated it, the way he was so quiet even in this moment. you wanted him to say something, to talk, to actually try and fix everything with you, but no. you get silence all over again. again. and again. and again. always. you sniffled softly whilst nodding slowly. you stood up and cleared your throat, “it's all for the better anyways.” you said, though it was more for yourself than him.

“i hope you have a great future ahead, that you succeed in that dream of yours. i wish you all the best with everything you plan to do," you gulped, forcing down your tears, “i hope you don't forget to still eat on time and drink lots of water. don't overwork yourself too much and beat yourself over things that was out of your control. that's all.” you let out a chuckle, tears streaming down your face as you walked towards the door.

“the six months with you was fun, even though there were some downhill parts. it was still one of the best six months of my life... i love you, rin. good bye.”

alternate ending...

“the six months with you... taught me a lot of things and made me realize that i didn't deserve you. you loved me, and i loved... the idea of you loving me. and once i realized that, i distanced myself... i didn't want to hurt you further but i didn't want to let you go. out of guilt.”

rin clenched his fists, looking down at the floor as if it was the most interesting in the world. he didn't want to hurt you, but he knew it would've still ended the same way if this lasted longer. maybe it was all for the better to end this... yet why does it actually hurt now? the idea of losing you, the idea of not being able to come home into your arms again after a tiring day made his heart ache. nobody got him like you do, and losing you means losing the one real thing he'll ever know. it was lukewarm, he knew that. but this feelings, for the first time again, he indulged it and embraced it with open arms.

rin stood up and grabbed your wrist gently, “let's talk this out... don't... don't leave yet. please...”

[shoopsthereitis]

Bleeding Desire | jegulus | 3k

Regulus knows he’s going to fold—just like he always does. It’s hard not to, now that he knows what it’s like to be under James, on top of him, inside him. It’s addictive. Addictive in the same way this game is between them, in the same way their work is. The rush, the violence, the chase.

[graveyardgremlins]

Chapter 16 is out now, yall come check it out!

"He forgot to mention it before, since it often depresses him, but his personal favorite Eternal Doubt is: When is it all going to end?

Soon enough, the rift answers."

[soulzerofever]

"everything goes dark, and you die."

little blurry cause i wanted to try out a GIF BUT!! ive been HOOKED on @blacktabbygames 's new game slay the princess!!

i've been talking my friends ears off about this game so im pumped i finally got around to making some art for it! :]

PLEASE check this game out it is SO SO SO RAD WOWIE!!

[valeffelees]

wouldn't it be so funny if i signed up for the cobb even tho the final chapter of my only posted wip has been rotting in my gdocu for a year and i have shared literally nothing else since

[reyolfx]

destiel fic excerpt - claire kinda tricks dean into going to pride with her

okay i've been in a massive block lately for any writing whatsoever but i'm TRYING to get back into it. mentally i'm just not really anywhere but i would like to be anchored back down into writing mode.

so here's a little bit of the destiel fic i have in progress. it's a dean focused post-15x19 (lol what finale) fix-it that deals a lot with dean's grief. this particular excerpt is quiiiiite a ways in, cas has been dead for almost a year at this point (happy destiel ending guaranteed fam). dean is still absolutely grieving but he's been doing a lot of work.

(warning dean does use the word queer here in a way that's like, halfway between accepting and internalised homophobia - it's not made out to be a big deal in this but i thought it would mention anyways)

***

"I'm not a parade guy, Claire, and I sure as hell ain't a flag waving queer. I'm not - I'm not this." Dean gestures vaguely to the revelry and upbeat atmosphere around him. He feels like a fish on a bike.

Claire shrugs with her whole body. "I don't give two shits what you think you are or aren't, grandpa. Every baby gay needs to attend their first Pride, it's like a right of passage or whatever."

Dean gawks at her. "What the fuck," he sputters. "Baby- did you just call me grandpa and a baby gay in the same sentence? What the fuck is that?"

Claire rolls her eyes like Dean's a fucking idiot. He feels like one right now, in his jeans and flannel with a knife tucked into his waistband, surrounded by rainbow everything and kids making out in those weird napkin tops that don't pass their navels.

She says, "exactly what it sounds like, loser. You're old, but you finally had your big gay realization, it's fresh and shit, erego, baby gay. Reborn a queer, hallelujah."

Dean stares at her like she's speaking another language, but he latches on to one bit that's plain. "Ain't that fresh," he mutters.

Because. Because it's not like Dean never had an inkling he was into dudes as well as chicks before. Not like he never had any tiny lightbulb moments while drooling over Doctor Sexy or being 16 and watching a hunter in his 20s clean a gun in front of him. It's just that every time that lightbulb flicked on, Dean had been very quick and very thorough in burying it 6 feet under like it was a body in a grave after a salt'n burn. Expert, even. Like he was was with real graves. He could go years without that lightbulb resurfacing, and he could forget. He could flirt with women and forget, kiss women and forget, take women back to his motel room when he was 24, haunting small towns all alone, and forget. It was easy. Because women's waists and women's hair and women's voices made it easy. When they pitched their words low and came on to him with confidence and a shadow, a daintier echo of violence than what he was used to, it was easy. What would have been the point in—in anything else?

Nothing. No point.

Until his best friend told him he loved him and his graveyard of buried lightbulbs was flooded, upturned, exposed. Electrified. He sees the bones of every man he ever desired like they're cartoons sticking their fingers into sockets.

Bzzzt. That hunter with his rolled up sleeves, exposed forearms, cleaning his gun while chatting easily to John. Dean sitting there, trying his best to be a part of the conversation, puff himself up like he belonged at the table, 16 in a too-big jacket, a real hunter, a real man, dragging his eyes away from the hunter's hands again and again until he could unfocus them entirely with the beers his dad let him sip.

Bzzzt. A shop teacher of his, once, during a 9th grade stint somewhere in Nebraska. Mr. Callaghan. Showing the class how to use a circular saw, sparks flying, Dean's eyes wide, mouth a little dry.

Bzzzt. Benny in purgatory. Slicing and hacking his way through monsters to get Dean to Cas before they could escape. Dean's weird, twisted up, sickening feelings of - I love you because you know my secret. Because you know I love someone else even though I won't let my own self know. I love you because you have big hands and a big heart and an appetite for blood and because I can bully you into staying, searching, endlessly, for the one. The one I love the most. I love you until I find him and then I still love you a little because you helped make that possible and because you did it for me.

Bzzzt. Cas. Castiel who walked into a barn, sparks again (maybe men are electric and women are grounding, or - fuck, who knows, maybe sparks are just hot) a few days after Dean rose from the dead. Castiel who walked towards him with steady eyes of blue fire and withstood every act of violence Dean could commit against him (or so he thought). Castiel who saw into his soul, maybe not even into it, just the whole scope of it, macro and micro. Cas who shoved him into walls, laid hands over his mouth and a knee between his thighs (accidental?), Cas who spoke to him vulnerably one moment and then disappeared the next, Cas who stared into his eyes and made Dean's chest feel molten, his tongue feel heavy. Cas who wore a stupid trench coat, even when given a fresh start, an opportunity for reinvention. A trench coat Dean grew to hate because of the sheer amount of times he imagined pulling it gently off the angel's shoulders. It always stayed. Dean could burn that fucking coat.

He kept that coat. He carried it. He misses it.

Dean comes to in the middle of a fucking pride parade with the desperate, overwhelming urge to press a coat that he no longer has into his nose. He needs—

"Earth to fuckin' Dean Winchester," Claire is saying, eyebrow cocked kinda like Cas, which is weird because he doesn't remember Jimmy ever doing that. He guesses he didn't know Jimmy very long though. Maybe he's just seeing Cas wherever he can manage it.

"Sorry, kid," he says lamely. No follow up. He feels the hole and it aches and aches and he needs to get a hold on it before it engulfs him.

"Dean," Claire says gently, and she sounds like she knows where he is. Like she can find him back here among his grief that is so far removed from, and unrelated to the situation.

He looks at her and forces a grin that cracks his face. Painfully. Half rolls his eyes.

"C'mon kid, show me the ropes then," he says. He's here now. Probably wont ever be again, but he's with Claire.

And he loves Claire. Because she reminds him of his not so long ago self—young and angsty and passionate and angry and full of mistakes past, present and future—and because she reminds him of Cas. Her face, her independence, her stubbornness, her smile. Because Cas loves (loved, Christ) her, even if her feelings towards him might be more convoluted.

She doesn't let him off easy, a trait she kind of shares with both of them.

"Dean... I miss him too".

Years ago, maybe even just months ago, Dean would have rolled his eyes and changed the subject. He would have deflected: "so how do you get on one of those floats" or "why is there so much mesh here" or maybe mouthed the words to You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) right along with the drag queens in the parade without even realising it.

But now—

"Claire—I can't. Not if we wanna— not if today's gonna be any good."

His voice sounds far away and raw and he feels tears in his eyes even still. Even still after all these months. He wants. Wants Cas back so hard it scalds his insides.

Claire's mouth sets hard and she nods once. There's a grim-feeling cloud around the two of them, a black hole in the middle of this rainbow candy-land ass street block on a sunny day.

And then Claire scares it away. Physically waves it off like she can see it and then plasters a grin on her face that's almost conspiring. She can rally, Dean'll give her that. It's not as if Claire completely fits here either—she looks more like him than she does most of the other revelers. Black tank top, red flannel tied around her waist, black shit kickers. Hunter get-up. But she grabs some stickers from a drag queen that's handing them out and slaps one on her chest - it says "I support gay rights and gay wrongs" on it and the circle behind it is striped orange and white and pink. Dean snorts. He doesn't know for sure what that means but he guesses it's probably for lesbians cause he knows everybody gets their own flag in this world. He's learned that through osmosis at group*.

She grabs his hand and slaps another sticker on the back of it. The circle is blue, purple, and pink, and he does know the bi flag, has figured that one out at least. The words in the centre say "oh no, everyone is so hot".

Dean rolls his eyes so hard he almost throws his neck out. "There's no way in hell you think I'm keeping this on," he says.

"You are keeping it on, old man, and if i see you've taken it off I'll take you to the face painting tent and make them give you full bisexual glam." The threatening tone of her voice contrasts too deeply with the contents of that sentence and Dean huffs out a surprised laugh.

"Oh yeah? How do you think you're gonna make that happen?"

"You're not the only one packing here, Winchester."

Dean keeps the sticker on his hand. Stares at it for a minute, then looks all around him, taking in the colour and the joy like a thing that's not used the sun would. A rodent or a worm. Maybe a monster.

"Don't get me wrong but this doesn't really seem like your scene," he says.

Claire shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe a couple years ago I woulda felt the same. Used to think it was all real frivolous and silly y'know?"

She pauses for long enough that Dean's pretty sure the conversation's over. Finally, she speaks again, just a bit quieter: "But, I kinda figure, I can be more than just one thing, right? I can be a hunter and still enjoy some of the nice shit in life. Frivolous and silly is kinda fun."

She's not wrong. Dean doesn't get a lot of moments to be frivolous and silly, but he takes them when he can. Feels like maybe if he'd been born in an different universe he could've known those feelings full time like they were an engrained part of him rather than just fleeting visitors.

Then Claire says, "you're more than one thing, y'know. You're lots of things"

Dean huffs a little laugh and shakes his head, not really sure what he's denying.

"Don't make me give you a whole rundown on your own personality dude. You're not just some workhorse hunter, you got other stuff. Like, gay shit like this doesn't have to be one of your things. But everything's worth a shot once, right?"

He wants to agree. Thinks maybe he'd like to be a lot of things, but everything is kind of blur right now, has been for a while. What are the things he'd like to be? Like to enjoy?

He shakes his head again, not so much denying as delaying.

"Okay Oprah, what got you so wise?"

Claire smirks. She nudges him forward to follow the parade and says, "the internet mostly."

[beanghostprincess]

I finally finished the Fan Letter fic where the girl and Nami meet (from Nami's POV) but I'm really tired (it's 2am) to make an actual post abt it so here it is:

I know it's not my usual work but if you don't like it keep it to yourself bc I will cry--

[beesinspades]

it's vashwood reverse bang preview time!! here's a look at my collab with @ohohge 👀💜 I had a ton of fun working on it with her over the past months! we're posting on august 1st so please look forward to it, and go check out her art preview! :D

[mondaymelon]

ignore the fact i disappeared that was simple winter hibernation ( still sick and coughing out my lungs btw )

for a basically nonexistent context it’s currently 1:50 am my paper is literally just on my mattress hello hard surface who and this is the most abhorrent lighting and i COOKED (dubious) 🔥🔥🔥‼️🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🌶️🌶️✨🌶️😋😋🌶️😋😋🥺🥺💖💖✨✨

one of my ocs grgrggrjekslalksj I need to talk about them more on here nyways yeah uhm bye read the tags thanks

[d1sheclectic]

this close to writing tattoo artist/piercer curly x bookstore cafe owner ponyboy im going insane over them