#which is actually fast but power of hyperfixation i guess

[blizzardstarx]

catnessa walk cycle part FINISHED!!

“I’ll be fine on my own,” she said

“I don’t need you inside my head”

(She’ll be fine on her own, she’ll be fine on her own)

okay i fixed the floor fr this time

[princesscolumbia]

Peanut Butter...Chocolate...Lyctoral Consumption...Murder?

So I just got done reading an interesting examination of a moment in Nona the Ninth where Alecto emerges from the depths of Nona's consciousness and chastises Pyrra "I'm not the Lyctor, I'm the (he) Or (she) who Lyct Up" Dve. It was good, it was solid, and it was done with the understanding that OP didn't know for sure as they're not Tasmuir.

So you can imagine what a baseball bat to the head it was to see a Psych AU post where Shawn is dead and haunting Gus.

So guess what fell out of the piñata that is my imagination:

Shawn and Gus were born on the Sixth. They weren't supposed to be doing anything with the lyctoral process, but you know how Shawn is...and Gus is always a step behind. You know how they're "Ride or Die"? Well, Shawn is just smart enough ("...a brilliant mind with no impulse control." -Palamedes, who upon meeting Gideon is eternally but silently grateful that she and Shawn never met) piece together how to become a lyctor just from the available material and a few clever questions to the currently living lyctors without ever stepping foot in Canaan House. Because Shawn's knowledge and understanding of the process is SUPER limited, even more so than Ianthe's when she ate Naberius, they're unaware that one of them's gonna die as part of the process, and it's not going to be the necromancer...which is Gus.

Gus goes along with it because he knows Shawn is going to loop in some other more gullible adept and doesn't want anyone to be dealing with Shawn on one of his hyperfixations that isn't used to dealing with him.

Things are going well...until they aren't, and Shawn realizes he's gonna die, but he figures out how to modify the process while they're in the middle of a failed ascension and they become a lyctor...sorta.

Shawn winds up 'haunting' a now ungodly powerful and immortal Gus. Shawn's spirit is inhabiting Gus' body at the same time as Gus' spirit is "consuming" Shawn's, but since Shawn isn't a braindead result of a transference that's intended to be strictly one way, Shawn is 'eating' Gus' spirit at the same time, creating a cycle where both are feeding each other in perfect lyctoral harmony. They don't twig the Resurrection Beasts because "sin" =/= "dumbass fuckup" and Shawn isn't, strictly speaking, dead. It's a symbiosis rather than a parasitic relationship.

So here these two dumbasses are, neo-lyctors, standing over Shawn's dead body. They figure out that they're going to be so screwed if they're caught and someone figures out what they did, so they destroy the body and bug out as fast as possible...

...landing in the midst of BoE on one of the non-Empire human-occupied systems. They're doing their best to lay low and not twig anyone to the fact that they're from the Empire (Gus, thanks to the neo-lyctorhood, looks like a fine, fit, and dare we say sexy man, so nobody pegs him for a necromancer) and Shawn figures out how to do a fancy kinda-sorta projection where he can actually interact with the physical world while still bonded to Gus.

One day there's a murder nearby and Shawn sees all the clues to figure out who-dun-it, and Gus is all, "Naw, man, they're gonna pick us out as Imperial the second those cops see us!"

Shawn, of course, does everything possible to draw attention to the clues, which catches the attention of (you guessed it) Lassie and his partner. Lasiter is suspicious but can't prove anything because the usual 'tells' for a necromancer or lyctor aren't turning anything up. Shawn feeds Gus some line about some grandparent from a few generations back being an expat from the Empire and so Gus is "able to receive messages from the spirit realm" (just Shawn, obvi) and because they can't prove there's a more direct connection to the Empire than that, the police are forced to let Gus go.

Things play out fairly similar to the pilot of Psych from that point forward, but with Gus having to be the point-man for the whole thing while Shawn is getting better and better at manipulating the world around him, including being able to visually manifest by the time Juliet arrives on-planet. She's one of the refugees of a planet destroyed by a lyctor and is absolutely the best officer ever when it comes to hunting down necros...but since none of her tools or experience include anything like what Shawn and Gus have become, she doesn't figure it out for several years, by which point she's fallen in love with Shawn.

Until we get AtN, I have no idea how this would shake out, but my ideal scenario is somehow Paul and Kirona wind up on this BoE planet that Shawn and Gus are on.

[primewritessmut]

🌞💋❌🎨✨ for the writer's ask <3

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

I don’t have a preferred time of day to write but my life is such that I do most of my writing at night. I used to hate it, actually, but then, just like with any habit, I got used to it and now I’m a lot more successful with it. Whatever success is for a writer. Writing, I guess?

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

Hate is a strong word. Kissing is not my favorite thing, generally. I’m a lot like Loki in He Speaks Daggers that way. I think there are a lot of better things to do with your mouth. BUT I also think well -written first kiss fics can be so satisfying. There’s something about the moment the tension breaks that can be really beautiful and kissing is what usually breaks the tension.

That was not a coherent response at all. Sorry! I don’t search out fics specifically for first kisses, and I don’t actually care whether characters kiss or not. But, if an author is building tension in a relationship and the kiss is what that culminates in, then I’m usually on board.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I feel like maybe I’ve answered this before somewhere, but I truly dislike teacher/student (or boss/employee) as a trope. (Disclaimer: this is for me personally, I’m not trying to shame people for liking fics or stories with that trope, I simply do not.) It’s a power dynamic that I am incredibly uninterested in exploring and don’t find very enjoyable as a reader either.

I think there are probably other tropes I wouldn’t write, but I’d have to be confronted by them to figure that out. Although usually I think my reaction is just, “no, thanks, that’s boring to me” as opposed to having a true visceral reaction to it.

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

Flattered! Confused! Awestruck! It never fails to shock the shit out of me when someone is so inspired by something I’ve written that they want to draw about it. (Or even write about it.) I’m usually so overwhelmed by the gesture that I’m just like “yeah 👍 cool 👍 thanks bro 👍” which is probably a lackluster response for the artist but in my head there’s a lot of screaming and running around the room and wondering “WHAT THE SHIT?”

So yeah. I’m flattered. I enjoy. I don’t always interact with it for various reasons but I am always, always just… struck by the fact that it exists.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Oh god. Whhhhy is this the hardest thing to answer? I’m a relatively fast writer. A lot of that is probably contingent on my insomnia and hyperfixative brain, but I can churn out chapters and stories relatively fast.

I also think my stories are a good ride. Like I said to another ask earlier, I tend to fly by the seat of my pants when I write which means that a lot of the story is revealed to me as I write and I always have fun following it where it goes. That’s probably partially just the high of the creative process but also I think I spin a good yarn (to be an old man with a pipe between my teeth sitting outside the general store).

x

[bigskydreaming]

wouriqueen

This was so fascinating to read, I love it, I'm always impressed with how detailed world building can get !! 🤯 I'm guessing you had to do a lot of research in order to determine how each waverider power works ?

'Had to do' wouldn't be quite accurate because tbh, a huge part of my brainstorming process when coming up with stories I want to write is basing them around things I'd like to learn more about in the process. Like, you know how I dropped out of college freshman year on account of my Traumatic Backstory and all that, but truthfully, even if that hadn't happened I don't know that I would've ever graduated college otherwise anyway. I've never excelled in traditional learning environments. Like, by most standards I did well in high school, but that was because my entire approach to learning was geared towards optimizing my test-taking and making sure I measured up to the standards of what I was SUPPOSED to know in order to get into 'a good college' or whatever, but there was only so far that same approach was going to take me in college. It was learning by technicalities, accumulating just ENOUGH knowledge and skills to meet the requirements of various curriculums. I wasn't really....learning how to CAPITALIZE on the knowledge I was picking up, or doing the best at figuring out how to put it into practice.

In contrast, long after I dropped out of college I realized that the only real way to get me to excel at learning was to get me hooked on the subject matter enough to like.....bait me into wanting to know as much about it as I could. Like I figured out that I had a BETTER grasp on the things I picked up when excited about a story concept I wanted to write and looking to learn as much as I could about the relevant subject matter in search of new angles or elements I could mine creatively.....than if I'd spent like, an entire year in a classroom being taught the same concepts.

My approach to story research has never been about technical knowledge, like, crossing my i's and dotting my t's to make sure the details of what I'm writing are accurate.....its always been more about like....the more I read about a subject, the better grasp I have on the in's and out's of it, the better I am at seeing or picking out where there's really interesting stuff that can be the basis of unexpected subplots or plot twists.

And so it eventually occurred to me that if I started picking out which story ideas I pursued not just because I thought the idea was interesting.....but because all the stuff that went along with the idea, the subject matter - scientific or historical or socio-political, etc - was stuff that now that I was thinking about it, I was interested IN, and wanted to know more about.....like.....in the process of researching that story and figuring out the best angles for developing it, I was likely to learn so much more about the related subject matter than I ever would by taking an actual class about the topic.

Basically, I call it weaponizing my tendency to hyperfixate in the pursuit of knowledge, lol.

conversationaltreestump

This was cool thank you! It did take me a couple read-throughs to not just picture all of these people riding on skateboards with their light and sound waves floating around them

Oh that was absolutely one hundred percent deliberate on my part, lol. Don't forget, you're talking to someone who unapologetically watched the fuck out of Fast & Furious: Spy Racers. This particular project has always been one I've pictured playing out in my head as an animated show like Arcane, and given the anti-gravity and solar technology a lot of this world is predicated around, hoverboards & hoverbikes abound. Racing is a bit of a global past-time on Talwei (the planet this is set on).

In fact, beyond the general hoverboard/bike tech, lots of different waveriders (most of whom are absolute adrenaline junkies as a general rule of thumb) have specialized kinds of racing they partake in.

For instance, the original settlers seeded a lot of the atmosphere with floating crystalline deserts, like salt flats made of quartz, because solar energy is a huge source of the planet's energy supply and these crystal flats are tapped as wide-scale solar farms. And a lot of brightriders use solar-powered skiffs in (mostly illegal, lol) races across these crystalline deserts. With their control of light wavelengths, they can directly influence the way their sailing skiffs are powered by the surplus of energy available in those environments AND they can kinda sabotage their competitors at the same time, by manipulating how the lightwaves interact with and empower their own crafts.

(Waverider abilities are just as much about the ABSENCE of the energies particular to each 'rider type as they are the energies themselves. Torchriders can 'generate' and manipulate cold just as readily as they do heat, just by removing or redirecting the heat away from various places. Painting with negative space, as it were. Echoriders can do the same things with silence in the absence of sound. Brightriders, despite their names, use darkness as much as they do light. There's a technique commonly referred to as a 'shadow soak' where brightriders drench their surroundings in darkness.....but most waveriders don't even have to think about the fact that they know they're not actually generating darkness or soaking an environment in it, they're REMOVING brightness, concentrating the ambient light in locations just on the other side of their shadow soak/cloak. So in my head, the brightrider races across crystal flats are actually a really sharp, randomized contrasting of bursts of illumination and swaths of darkness as various racers try to give themselves light-boosts while draping shadows across the other skiffs to slow them down).

And then there's torchriders.....Talwei doesn't have any natural landmasses, which means no natural oceans either.....there's plenty of atmospheric layers with clouds that have precipitation that can be harvested, and the artificial landmasses the settlers created to float in their anti-gravity wells and build their cities on have artificial lakes and rivers....but the vast majority of water Talwei uses comes from the ice rings around the planet (like Saturn's). There are cities built onto the ice rings and with their own artificial atmosphere - not everyone wanted to live on floating cities within the gas giant itself - and the inhabitants of the rings mine the ice and send it down the planet's gravity well as their primary source of trade with those who live w/in the gas giant.

They also use heat to melt the ice into lakes and rivers for their own cities, so the ice rings include thousand mile long stretches of ice and rock and artificial thermal geysers aimed at melting the ice and generating rivers in various intervals.....so torchriders have their own version of racing along the ice rings that's more like....paragliding with caped bodysuits to protect them from the temperature extremes as they use their abilities to manipulate thermal updrafts to soar and bank or douse others' glide currents to leave them in their wake. Which uh....the dramatic interactions of hot and cold fronts by inexperienced torchriders in races has been known to accidentally create a kind of tornado alley that the racers have to navigate so torchrider ice ring races can be VERY dangerous, and are definitely not dull.

But because these are a people who believe firmly in one upmanship, other waveriders delight in even more dangerous past times. Ironriders wear pressurized bodysuits with metallic lining that they can demagnetize and remagnetize at will, using the same polarization technology sky-ships utilize.....and they basically....bodysurf directly through the electromagnetic currents that extend throughout the planet's atmosphere. While skyriders dive off the top (and bottom) of floating cities in their anti-gravity wells and use their own abilities to essentially let them toggle between freefalling and bungee-jumping up and down through the wells. Shockriders use their abilities to race along electromagnetic tracks akin to the ones bullet trains use.

Etc, etc.

The waveriders of Talwei have always had a soft spot among my original creations for being among the most batshit people (collectively speaking) I have ever come up with.

[sinbinfamiliar]

(Theory-Anon) okAY I gotta ask if you fast-passed the most recent episode??? (lol np about the late response I totally get how much time a new hyperfixation can take up since I'm guilty about that myself) But on the subject of your response, I actually agree the more I think about it that Glad might not be a completely "failed" experiment. He may not have physical powers like the rest of the infected, but perhaps other things? Like, he can talk to his raven so idk if that's just him understanding her feelings or if they actually share an actual conversation when they communicate.

I'm definitely also curious as to how the whole "exchange" deal is gonna go with Rayne and Kenny.

And Oak was done dirty and I genuinely feel bad for the poor guy. He has so much emotional trauma on top of literally being eaten alive and just generally bullied by the gang lol. He literally said he doesn't do well in dark or enclosed spaces alone and what does Adon do? Throw him in a dark cell practically alone. I was just waiting for Gressil to say "welcome to the rebellion, tree-man" lol.

Honestly, I gotta say that Adon reminds me a little too much of Mateo. He is more than willing to punish his subordinates for a screw-up without batting an eye. He also has his eyes closed a lot which of course reminds me of Gressil, and then his face shape and color pallet is very similar to Rayne's past girlfriend (who is the only unnamed character of importance so far other than Adon's wife and the cancer patient in Rayne's flashback from Ep.5)

Apologies for the massive wall of text lol but I have a ton of character study stuff I wanted to rant about for a sec (for some reason tumblr had been glitching and giving me a word limit on my previous asks but I guess it's fixed now??)

Again if you've fp'd the most recent ep I'd love to exchange ideas about it whenever you have the time!! :D

AAAAH tumblr never ever let me know I was sent this omg!!! I am so so so so sorry ;-;

Some of this is obviously out of date now for the rely cause i never noticed this ask 😰 so I'll reply to what I can still that isn't completely out of date. But as always I'm ALWAYS fast passes to see the most recent stuff. It's the one thing I spend money on every week to make sure I can read it lol

But oof Oak. Yeah I actually feel really bad for him. The more I am seeing each chapter and how Adon acts the more I'm feeling worse for most of the others, but specifically Oak now. Honestly, I hope the poor guy gets out and gets to like, make his own choices. He deserves to be treated better. The trauma he seemingly went through has me feeling for him 😫

The more I have seen of Adon the more he does remind me of Raynes past girlfriends color scheme an awful lot actually I must agree. The dude is slowly trying to become worse then Mateo though with each new chapter I swear. As if trying to race past and be like "but I can be worse actually!" Like damn dude.

Seemingly tumblr has been glitching for both of us since I never was even alerted I had this. I think I'll try to look at my asks more frequently now incase this has happened ;-; sorry again anon

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

TWs: Violence, threats, strong language, blood

Notes: Superhero au, Spiderman Virgil, Deadpool Remus, enemies to lovers Dukexiety

New project that nobody asked for. I know I should finish my ongoing wips before starting a new one but I do not control the hyperfixation.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

When Virgil kicked Remus in the chest and sent him hurtling off the building into an active construction site, Remus found himself thinking about how they’d met.

Honestly, it hadn’t started off much better. Spiderman was a piece of shit who thought he was so much better than Remus just because Deadpool killed some people every now and then.

Well, that had been the first impression anyway. They hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot.

Remus had been doing his job, thank you very much, he was a mercenary for hire, it wasn’t like he’d been going after a gang of strangers for fun. And he certainly hadn’t needed help.

There were three of them and one of him, just some standard thugs that had been causing a bit too much trouble for people with more money to spend, their names already set to pay for Remus’s rent this month.

He’d unsheathed his swords, (guns would make it over too quickly, and what was the fun in that?) letting the assholes get their hopes up by grabbing for their own weapons and then—

Then all his targets were all suddenly covered in webs, firmly plastered to the nearest wall with threats and screaming that Remus ignored in favor of whirling around, slicing the air with his blades.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Spiderman was half hanging off the wall, stepping back down onto the ground when he saw Remus staring. “You’re welcome,” he called, like Remus had asked for him to come in ruin is fun.

Remus scoffed, because rude. You don’t just steal someone’s kill like that. But at least they were immobilized now, which meant shooting them and getting the day over with would be a piece of cake. The webs weren’t budging no matter how frantically they kicked.

He yanked his gun from his belt to do exactly that, only to have another web (seriously, fucking spider webs had no business being this strong) wrapped around his wrist, another pulling the pistol right out of his hand.

“Uh, motherfucker?” Remus took a step back, furiously grabbing at the lingering webs with his bare hands, grimacing at the way it clung to his leather. “Jeez, you want me to decapitate them instead?”

“They’re already down,” the asshole said, like Remus hadn’t noticed. “Back off, Deadpool.”

Remus didn’t have time to be surprised that Spiderman knew who he was, far too busy wanting to run over and punch him right in his stupid masked face. “Ok, clearly you don��t know my deal. Move it, Webs.”

“Then you don’t know mine,” he said, masked eye staring blankly from underneath the hood over his suit. “I’m not letting you murder defenseless people.”

“They’re not fucking defenseless.”

“They’re not breaking free,” the spider said. “The cops will take whoever I capture for them. Call them and leave.”

Remus scoffed and tightened his hold on his sword, wondering if he really wanted to get into a fight with Spiderman in the middle of the afternoon. It was only fucking Tuesday, he was too tired to deal with this shit. “And they can take them in body bags. Give me my gun back.”

Remus was a good foot taller than him, and loaded with about three times as many weapons, but the masked asshole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. God, he was probably smirking under his suit.

“I finished the fight, I get to decide.” He turned around, his back to Remus like he didn’t even care. “Maybe try to be faster next time.”

“Oh, fuck right off with that,” Remus snarled. “Fuck off. Fuck off and suck a fat dick, you fucking—”

“Either you walk away, or I leave you tied to the wall.”

“Kinky,” Remus smirked, even if Spiderman couldn’t see it under his own mask. “But fat fucking luck. No way in hell am I letting some bitch in black and purple spanx steal my kill.”

Spiderman actually had the audacity to sigh, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Nobody’s getting killed.”

“You know, I’ve got more than one gun,” Remus said, mentally calculating how fast he’d have to move to shoot every single person in this alleyway. “I’m playing nice. Get out of my way.”

“You’re not shooting someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh, are you the moral police?” Jesus, Remus wanted to punch this guy. “Man, fuck off. It’s none of your business.”

He grabbed for his other gun, only to immediately feel something wrap around his waist and legs, yanking hard and lifting him into the air. He shouted something he really hoped no pedestrians were close by enough to overhear, doing his absolute best to give Spiderman his coldest glare as he was slammed against the brick wall, upside down, held firmly down by fucking spider webs.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Remus twisted and thrashed, and while he could feel the webs giving way already it would be a good few minutes until he was free. That fucking asshole.

“Next time I see you I’m cutting off your spider ass and hanging it on my fucking wall!”

Spiderman ignored him, and Remus watched as he grabbed the thugs Remus was supposed to kill and one by one swung them out of the alleyway before disappearing completely.

That whore.

It hadn’t been long, unfortunately, until they’d met again, and Remus had of course tried to punch the asshole right in the head.

They’d ended up on the same rooftop, which was even worse because Remus came up here to relax. Spiderman had just been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge as he watched over the city, looking almost peaceful with his hood down and the sun beating against his mask.

So Remus had immediately vaulted over and swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

And then he’d missed, because of course Spidey had to have fucking inhuman reflexes, which was bullshit. He’d ducked away and managed to jump to Remus’s side before Remus even registered that his fist had met nothing but air.

“Can you leave?” Spiderman asked, so unbothered it only made Remus angrier. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Making sure people don’t get killed,” he said, moving back towards the ledge. “You should try it sometime.”

Remus crossed his arms, watching the vigilante in disbelief. “You get that I’m a mercenary, right? You’re surprised by the killing thing?”

“I’m not,” he said, and he still wouldn’t even look at Remus. “But I’m stopping it when I can.”

“Oh? So you’re ruining a small business?” Remus threw his arms out and turned towards the ledge overlooking the bustling city. “Spiderman doesn’t support small businesses, you heard it here first, folks!”

Spidey was staring at him now, and Remus had a sneaking suspicion he would not appreciate the look he was being given if the mask was taken off. Asshole.

“I don’t support killing people, Deadpool.”

“Sucks,” Remus said. “You should’ve stayed out of the way. If I wasn’t so kind and generous I would have shot you.”

“You mean if you hadn’t been tied up and defenseless,” Spiderman corrected, and Remus was right back to wanting to punch him. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you arrested.”

Remus dramatically put a hand to his chest and gasped, walking along the roof’s edge. “Oh no. What ever would I have done? I’d be defeated! My one weakness. C ops.”

Spidey didn’t respond, but he did get up and move away when Remus got a bit too close to where he was perched on the ledge. Ha .

“Maybe I should have called the cops on you, Spidey,” Remus added. “They’d finally catch the masked menace. Some jail time might humble you.”

“I’d be fine,” Spiderman said. “I wasn’t the one tied to a wall.”

Remus hopped back onto the roof with a growl, grimacing at the reminder of how long it had taken to get those webs off his suit. “Yeah, don’t do that shit again. Seriously, I can and will end you.”

“Get in line behind half the city, Deadpool.”

Remus scoffed, something he apparently did a lot of whenever talking to Spiderman, and followed him across the rooftop. “Man, your ratings are shit. At least I don't act like a hero.”

It was hard to see, barely noticeable, but Remus saw Spidey’s shoulders tense, just a bit. Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Good.

“I don’t act like anything,” he said, and it was just a little less cocky than before. “I’m just trying to help people.”

“Oh, so you’re playing hero.” Remus grinned, moving until he was crouched right in front of the vigilante. “Ooh ooh, let me guess...you’re in college. You’re ...22. Maybe 23, or 24. You got these big bad powers one day and figured you were the only one in the whole wide world who could protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Spidey didn’t answer, just looked at him with that blank, unamused stare, so Remus continued. “Or were you born with them? Doesn’t seem like it, you’ve only popped up in the last two or three years—”

“It’s none of your business,” Spiderman cut in, and Remus smirked. “And you’re wrong, for the record.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Remus asked, amused despite himself. “If nobody wants you, why are you even trying?”

Spidey was tense now, and doing a real bad job of hiding it. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what people think.”

“Right.” Remus didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know that wasn’t it. “You do realize how much money you could make with those powers, right?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m fine doing what I’m doing.”

Remus looked him over, he’d seen spidey all over newspapers and on TV before, but this was the first time actually talking to him in person, besides the other day when the asshole had ruined his afternoon. Honestly, it was kinda underwhelming. He expected the suit to be higher tech, at least.

“Are you broke?” he asked. “You seem broke. I could make you a way better mask, by the way. It looks like shit.”

“I’m sure,” Spidey said, completely ignoring his generous offer. Rude. “And how much do you get paid for killing people?”

“A lot.”

Spiderman hummed nonchalantly, no longer looking at Remus. “Well, I’m glad it’s worth it.”

“It is! I sleep like a baby in my king sized bed.” And yeah, that was a little bit of a lie. Barely.. He wasn’t living that luxuriously, New York was expensive as shit, but based on his tech he was way better off than Webs.

“That’s wonderful,” Spiderman said and damn, apparently the masked menace was capable of being a sarcastic bastard as well as a cocky asshole. “You done pretending now? Can I go?”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“Yeah, ok.” Spiderman was back to sounding arrogant, and Remus couldn’t remember why they were talking instead of fighting to the death. “I know you sleep like shit.”

Remus actually laughed, humorless and cold, because what the fuck?

“Oh yeah?”

“Nobody kills for a living if their life is going great,” Spidey said. “What horrible trauma pushed you to that decision?”

Oh, this motherfucker. This piece of shit. He was so dead when Remus could catch him off guard.

“Nobody puts on a costume and fights crime when half the city wants him dead if his life is going great, either.” Remus smirked, moving to try to get Spidey to look at him again. “At least I get money for it. No student loan debt at 26 is pretty nice.”

He probably shouldn’t have given the vigilante that was quickly turning into his sworn enemy his age but eh. What was he gonna do, kill him? Remus didn’t stay dead.

“That’s great,” Spiderman said. “And all it cost was people’s lives.”

“Yep!” Remus hoped it came out cheery enough to piss him off a little more. “Think of it this way, Spidey. They’re gonna die anyway.”

Spiderman immediately straightened up and stalked to the other end of the rooftop, clearly wanting the conversation to end. Mission accomplished. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true!” he called, just to drive home the fuck off a bit more. “Someone would have gotten to them eventually.”

“They’re still people, Deadpool.”

Remus shrugged. “Good people don't get hits put on them.”

“Maybe not,” the vigilante agreed. “But good people don’t murder in exchange for money, either.”

Remus barked another laugh at that, more genuine this time because... yeah? Duh. “No shit. I never fucking said I was a good person.”

“You’re lucky you haven't killed anyone innocent yet.” And goddammit there was that ‘hero’ shit again that made Remus want to throw up. He’d just been starting to have fun, too.

“It’s still not your business.”

“It will be,” Spidey said, perched on the ledge in a way that would make Remus dizzy if he cared. “Stick to killing criminals and we'll be fine.”

“Oh?” Remus followed, smirking in a way that would probably get him punched if he took off his mask. “Are you gonna come get me if I’m not good?”

“That’s my job.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” Remus teased. “I’ll wear something sexy for you.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too, Spider Babe!”

Spidey scoffed, responding with a gloved middle finger when Remus winked. Remus watched a web shoot from his wrist, and suddenly Spiderman was gone, swinging across New York rooftops, leaving Remus to try to figure out how he was getting down.

Remus honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. He was fucked in the head, but he didn’t have any plans to lose control and start killing everyone in sight. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a villain Spiderman needed to spend time tracking down. New York was busy enough for both of them already.

He did plan on chucking the nearest heavy object at him if he ever saw Spidey swinging past. That never ended up happening. Not that he cared. He didn’t miss him.

He expected to catch a glimpse of him eventually, maybe close enough to yell a few lighthearted threats or call him names, but nothing as entertaining as the argument on the roof.

What he hadn’t expected, was to run right into the masked menace while walking home in the middle of the night.

Remus had just finished a job, something standard and quick, and after wiping the blood from his blades he’d decided to take the long way home. The sun had set, the night air was crisp and relaxing, and it helped Remus forget about the blood stains he needed to wash away.

He’d been cutting through sidestreets, mentally mapping out how to get back to his place. He turned a corner into an alleyway, and—

And there was Spiderman, hunched over himself and leaned against the wall like he’d been using it for support, shaking, gasping, and completely drenched in deep red blood.

Remus froze, and Spidey did too as soon as he registered Deadpool standing just a few paces away, the two of them staring silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Dude,” Remus said when he found his voice. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Spiderman was clutching at his chest, black and purple suit barely able to hide the red stains, leaned heavily against the brick wall as he watched Remus warily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whose blood is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and his voice was wavering. “Keep walking.”

Remus took a step forward, frowning at the way the vigilante went tense against the wall. He ignored it. “Whose blood is it?” It came out more of a command than a question this time.

“Mostly mine,” Spiderman said, and Remus could see it pooling around his gloves now that he was closer. “It’s fine.”

“Why’re you bleeding?”

“None of your business. Go home.”

Remus tried to get a better look from where he stood, well aware that approaching might not be the best idea right now. “Was it a gun or a knife?”

“It was none of your business and you need to go away.”

Remus watched him, incredulous, because the idiot was barely standing and losing way too much blood way too quickly, and he was pretty sure Spiderman didn’t have Remus’s whole immortality deal.

“You really want to bleed out on the street like some street thug?”

The vigilante hesitated, and Remus listened to the way his breathing was turning into awful sounding wheezes. “I’m...not going to bleed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus challenged, probably a bit more aggressively than was needed for someone who looked like they were about to keel over. “Walk over to me then.”

He’d expected the lack of response, but even though the eyes built into the suit were practically lifeless (he really should get him some more advanced goggles. He’d be a lot more approachable if his eyes weren’t so blank) Remus could still see his whole body tense in fear.

“No,” he said, low and trembling. “Fuck off.”

“Spidey, this isn’t a joke.” Jesus, that was a lot of blood. “You’re gonna bleed out.”

“And you can throw a party—”

“Fucking come here.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to just stand here bickering with the city’s hero until he dropped dead. But Spidey still shook his head, pressed even further against the wall now, and Remus sighed. “Fine.”

Remus took a few steps forward, initially planning on prying his arms away to get a better look at the wound, but Spiderman flinched back, trying to scramble away like Remus was coming at him with a weapon.

Well, Remus supposed that made sense. He had threatened to kill him a couple times last time they spoke.

“Chill it, Spidey.” Remus crouched a bit, suddenly painfully aware of how much taller he was, carefully holding his hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shot back. Which...yeah, fair. “I know you want to.”

“Does it look like I have a knife in my hand?” Remus asked. “No. Chill out and let me see.”

Spidey didn’t pull away when Remus took his shoulders, but he did flinch as soon as Deadpool touched him, probably involuntarily. Remus ignored it, focusing instead on figuring out where the blood was coming from. It was almost impossible in the dark lighting, especially up against the black suit.

“It’s...not that bad,” Spiderman rasped. “Seriously.”

Remus wasn’t buying that for a second. “What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened,” Spidey said, arms still wrapped firmly around himself. “It...there were five of them and one of them got lucky with a knife.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Remus pulled back, trying to figure out what to do. “You are stupid. Where?”

He only hesitated a moment. “Uh, my chest. I heal fast.”

“Jesus. How fast?”

Spiderman shrugged, then obviously regretted it when it pulled at the stab wound. “Hopefully fast enough,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow or I’ll be dead.”

“Jesus,” Remus said again, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Sit down. Jesus Christ.”

Spidey thankfully did as he said, though Remus suspected it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore rather than actually following instructions.

He wasn’t fighting anymore, almost limp as Remus took his wrists and moved them to his sides, but he did look like he was ready to bolt the second Deadpool made one wrong move.

Like he wouldn’t fall right on his face and hurt himself worse if he tried.

Remus could see the source of the blood now, a deep gash across his upper chest that had apparently sliced the black and purple suit like butter, still gushing crimson with each passing second.

Shit.

“Alright, uh.” This wasn’t his expertise in the slightest. Other than digging out some bullets, Remus didn't have to tend to his wounds. “I don’t think I have any fabric or...oh, your hoodie. Hand it over.”

Spiderman stared, and if he didn’t hurry up and get with the program Remus was going to knock him out and handle this himself. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding out. Give it.”

Spidey at least had the sense to listen and carefully peel the hoodie away from his suit, sliding it down his arms even as his gloved hands shook violently. Remus couldn’t help but wince at the noise Spiderman tried to choke back, because that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe, like...lay down?” Remus suggested. “Yeah, do that. It’ll help.”

Spidey still hesitated, even as the blood continued to flow and he started to slide down against his will. “I...need to see what you’re doing.”

Remus sighed, bunching up the hoodie and pressing it firmly against the wound, ignoring the strangled gasp that came from the vigilante. Blood was quickly soaking through the cloth, and Remus just pressed harder.

“I’m just putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” Remus said. “If I wanted to kill you I’d leave you here. If it stops bleeding you’ll heal, right?”

The only answer he got was another wet, trembling gasp when Remus pushed harder, Spiderman’s blood soaking into his gloves. It took a second for him to realize he was grasping at Remus’s wrists, his hold weak.

“H-hopefully,” Spidey managed, and he really didn’t sound great. His eyes were drooping, and Remus figured the biggest danger right now was letting him fall asleep. “Or, you know. I’ll die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Remus said without thinking. “I’m gonna stop the bleeding, you’re gonna heal with whatever weird powers you have, and then you’ll be less of a careless idiot next time.”

A few moments passed without an answer, and for once Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to fill the silence. The only sound between them was Spiderman’s labored, ragged breathing, which at least sounded a bit less shaky and faint as Remus continued to press down.

“What are you doing?” Spidey asked eventually, catching Remus completely off guard with the stupid question. “Why are you...trying to help?”

Remus wasn’t trying to do anything. He was helping. The city’s beloved hero would have been dead five minutes ago if he hadn’t managed to interrupt Remus’s perfectly nice, peaceful walk.

He hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was an asshole, a murderer for a living, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the guy who was going to leave New York’s savior to bleed out in an alleyway.

Besides, he’d been the first person Remus had been able to have a somewhat entertaining conversation with in months.

“Somebody’s gotta save everyone,” he eventually settled on, still pressing hard against the wound. “And I refuse to be the city’s only mouthy vigilante.”

Another beat of silence, and for a moment Remus thought he might have fallen asleep. “I don’t...save anyone. And I’m not mouthy.”

“You do,” Remus argued. “And you are.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, and at least he didn’t seem inclined to argue about the mouthy thing. “You do your job better than I do.”

Remus took a moment to look over the bleeding hero. He was weak and trembling, and probably dangerously pale and clammy under that suit. The blood flow had definitely slowed, but it hadn't stopped. There was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a damn thing Remus said to him tonight.

And if he did, it’s not like he really gave a shit, anyway.

“I’m a mercenary,” Remus said. “Anyone can kill someone. It takes something a lot stronger to save them. So shut up and stop being self deprecating.”

Spiderman shuddered when Remus carefully peeled back the bloody hoodie, leaning in to get a better look at where they were at. Either he was just that good at fixing stab wounds, or Spidey’s healing powers were gradually starting to kick in.

Remus decided to go with the former. He deserved it.

“I got someone killed tonight,” Spidey said, quiet and unbearably sad. “She...she died because I wasn’t fast enough, and I didn’t—”

“You can’t save everyone.”

The vigilante pulled his hands away from Remus’s wrists, like he’d just realized he was holding them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remus sighed. “You tried hard enough. You did fine.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation, Spiderman falling back into silence as Remus went back to making sure he didn’t start bleeding all over the place again. He didn’t have anything on him to properly clean it up, he wasn’t sure he even owned a first-aid kit, but Spidey’s breathing was starting to even out, and after about ten minutes or so the blood stopped flowing completely.

“You, uh...you good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Spiderman said, and it didn’t sound like a desperate lie this time. He still looked like shit, but he was able to slowly sit up on his own. “Not dying this time. Just...still hurts.”

They were plunged back into silence, slightly less tense than before but no less uncomfortable. Remus eventually relinquished his hold on the hoodie when Spidey was able to carefully take it from him.

Right, he was fine now. Remus didn’t need to stay, it wasn’t his business anymore. It hadn’t been his business to begin with.

“I...owe you,” Spiderman said, almost like it was strange for him to admit. “So, thank y—”

“Don’t thank me, Spidey.” God, this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? “Seriously. Just buy me a pizza sometime and we’ll call it square.”

Spiderman stared for second, unsteady hands holding his own hood to his chest, but the small laugh that escaped at least sounded genuine, and no longer quite so pained.

“Ok,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Remus hesitated before standing, not really sure if it would be more rude to leave or stay at this point. Spiderman probably didn’t want a mercenary for hire standing over him while he was wounded, whether Remus had saved his life or not.

Remus was still just as far from a hero as the villains Spiderman fought, and both of them had a reputation to keep.

“You sure you’re ok?” Remus asked. “I can like...stay. Or call you an ambulance or...something.”

“I’m good,” Spidey said, sitting up with a small hiss of pain until he was propped up against the wall, breathing still heavy. “You stopped the bleeding, I’ll live. You can go home, Deadpool.”

“Right.” He carefully stepped around the vigilante, still keeping a close eye on his chest to make sure the bleeding didn’t start again. “Just don’t die after all my hard work. My gloves are fucking soaked.”

Spiderman scoffed, but it was more good natured and light than it had been the last time they talked. “You got it.”

Remus kept walking down the alley, only turning around once more before turning the corner at the end. “And don’t forget my pizza, Spidey!”

[nonbinarychaoticstupid]

fifteen (hugging each other) if you want? (any ship/pairing/anything you feel like) aaaa

:0 skjckiskjdshd i was going to do carulia bc AA but then i fell into the lumity hyperfixation and this was born dksjdjksdjknjf this is the fastest i have ever written for a prompt

ft amity being ridiculously soft and in love and probably a lot of spelling mistakes idk

They drop Willow and Gus at their respective homes before midnight sets in - Amity even helps Gus crawl in through his window, which is nice of her, Luz thinks. She's too sore and tired to do anything except stand behind her, watching the street in case Odalia comes tearing down it on top of another abomination (probably with teeth this time, because who knows what happened after they ran away from the warehouse), gripping her sore arm and thinking about how her heart started pounding in her ears earlier, how she flushed when Amity grabbed her shoulder and hurried her outside and had to stare determinedly at the stars for a good ten minutes before she could look her in the eyes again, how -

"Luz?"

She jumps. It's Amity - of course it's Amity, she's been anxiously hovering around her and mumbling apologies for her parents since they were sure they weren't being followed - and she's holding out her hand and offering her a small, awkward half-smile, and Luz's heart gives a funny little jump, and then a second as she takes it and laces their fingers together.

And then a third, this time for a different reason altogether, when Gus pokes his head out of the window above them and waves.

Amity waves back (She really likes us now, Luz thinks, grinning up at the illusion of Gus's disembodied head propped on his balcony), and when they set off down the street, she feels her own grip tighten ever so slightly around her hand.

She lets out a long breath. Everything is fine. It's a beautiful, silent night, and she's wandering down the prettiest street in Bonesborough and holding Amity's hand, and there's still abomination gunk in her hair, but everything is... fine. Great, actually. And Amity is smiling, which is awesome, because Luz has never seen her smile at anything like that before.

She could get used to it, honestly.

Amity glances at her and smiles again, softer, slower. "You're making your idea face."

Luz blinks, resists the urge to reach up and feel exactly what face she's making. "Oh, am I? I have an idea face? That's pretty cool, actually. Or is it? Because then everyone knows what I'm thinking. Nah, still cool. I have an idea face. Yeah. I'm intimidating and cool. A bad boy, if you will."

She laughs. (Luz's heart does the funny little jumping thing again. She wonders, distantly, if it shows.) "The literal walking definition of a bad boy, you goof."

"Baddest boy in the Boiling Isles. Lesser witches cower before my star power."

Amity laughs again. She has a really nice laugh (like, wow), and it's still making something in her chest feel funny. "Luz the Bad Boy," she says, somewhat giddily.

"Azura the Good Witch and her edgy cousin." She squeezes Amity's hand, swinging their interlaced fingers between them. It's not often they get moments together like this, and she's starting to understand now what it is that's making her heart race and her breathing feel funny, and she thinks, a little distantly, that spending time alone with Amity is going to be - weird now, and - "I'd read that book."

"Please don't tell me the next thing we do is write it."

"Oh, we?" Luz turns to grin at her. "There's a we now?"

And Amity - Amity flushes.

"Yes - I, um - a - a we, sure, I don't - I dunno, uh - we as - as in - um -" She bites the inside of her cheek, glancing away, and Luz's heart does the jumping thing again.

"Wow, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, grip loosening on her hand, and she chews on her lip and squeezes it tighter. It probably isn't the best move, but Amity... Amity seems to respond well to it - she squeezes her hand back, and when they round a corner and officially make it out of the main town, Luz notices that they're walking in sync. The realisation makes her smile.

"Amity," she begins, and Amity jumps.

"Hm?"

"Are you gonna go back to your parents tonight? I - I don't think that's really safe. You - you could - uh, you could stay with us, if you want. Just until school tomorrow. King won't sleep on your clothes if I tell him not to, I swear."

She smiles at her over the space between them - the same soft, slow smile that made Luz's heart do the Thing again earlier. "I - thanks for the offer, but I'll probably go to Skara's. She's used to it. Me coming over after an incident, I mean."

"Stuff like that's happened before?" Luz whispers, and she meant it to sound casual, not... tense. "I'm - I'm really sorry, Amity. I'm sorry for pushing you earlier."

Amity shrugs. "You didn't know. It's not like I go around telling people. And it's not - it's not a big deal, anyway."

"Amity, that necklace -"

"Luz," she mumbles, not unkindly. "It's not a big deal. I can handle it. I've got Edric and Emira."

"And your father?"

She shrugs again, slower this time. "He doesn't care. Mom could dangle us over the edge of a cliff and he'd be more concerned with the soil density than, you know, his children."

Luz can't think of anything to say except "I'm sorry." She reaches out with her free hand, touches Amity's shoulder, and she gives her a long, warm look. And they fall silent.

And Amity's head falls gently onto her shoulder.

--

The silence lasts for the majority of the walk home, right up until they make it into the woods, and then Amity lifts her head from Luz's shoulder and murmurs, "It's really pretty out here at night, isn't it?"

Looking over at her and saying yeah, it is would be the obvious and cliché thing to do, and also Amity would notice and probably laugh at her, so Luz stares determinedly again at the sky for the second time tonight and chokes out, "Yup. Really pretty. Love living out here. Especially at night."

Amity giggles, and it's the most undignified and adorable sound she's ever heard come out of her mouth. "You're a dork."

"Biggest dork on the Boiling Isles. Baddest boy around. My list of qualifications just keeps on growing."

She laughs again. And Luz realises that ever since they escaped the warehouse, she's been... relaxed. Not happy, because dealing with a mother like that probably couldn't leave her feeling particularly cheerful, but... open. Softer, warmer. And she thinks it's because of the absence of the necklace.

They stop not far from the Owl House, in the shelter of a large tree she knows, logically, isn't oak, but looks too close to be anything but. Amity's head falls back onto her shoulder again. She makes a soft, contented noise (and the Thing happens again, and she thinks, wow), and mumbles, "You're thinking about the necklace, aren't you?"

"I didn't say anything. That was all you. But yes, I am curious. D'you - d'you want to talk about it?"

A long, almost languid shrug. She reminds Luz of a cat sometimes. "She used it to talk to me. And, uh - and keep me in line, I guess. Threaten me where no-one else could hear it. Where Dad couldn't stop it. Yeah, he did try to stop it sometimes. Mostly because he seems to draw the line at physical injury he can't explain to the authorities." The corners of her mouth twitch up, and Luz has to shake herself.

"That's awful," she breathes, feeling small. "That's horrible, Amity, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Amity detaches herself from Luz's side, and her hair is messy and sticking to the side of her face and when she steps away and turns to face her she keeps a hold of her hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

Luz smiles at her.

--

Amity lets go of her hand when they get to the porch. (Luz tries not to visibly frown at the loss of her presence.) She makes it all the way to the door, Amity trailing behind her with an odd, uncertain expression, and then something shifts a little within her ribcage and she spins around and flings herself into her arms, and Amity yelps and stumbles back a little, and then she loops her arms around her shoulders and hugs her back.

Luz likes hugging Amity.

It's such a simple thought, and it makes her feel so strangely delighted. They fit perfectly between each other's arms, and in the half-dark, lit only by the dim, guttering light from the lamps inside the house itself, and she has the feeling that the only reason Hooty isn't directly behind them making some snide comment is because Lilith is inside and entertaining him, thank G0d.

Something like five minutes pass - I've been hugging Amity for five whole minutes, oh my gosh - and then she hears, somewhere to her left, "Uh, Luz?"

"Hm?"

"This is nice."

She settles her head on Amity's shoulder. "It is."

"I think I have to let go now."

"Nooo..." She buries her head in Luz's hoodie, just gently enough to make her heart do the Thing again, and sighs, and Luz laughs.

"You okay there?"

"Don't get a lot of hugs."

"Mm. You can still stay with us tonight if you want." ('Don't get a lot of hugs.')

Amity shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though."

"Thank you for saving my life today. You were awesome. You are awesome. I can't imagine doing anything like that."

"Luz," she says, warmly, softly, "You do it all the time."

And with that, she steps back, lets go of her entirely, and practically skips into the night, leaving Luz to stare after her and wonder why she left so fast, and spend the rest of the night agonising over this weird, warm feeling buzzing away in her chest.

[sahrayliathefaelia]

on destiel, fandom, stories, and love

i initially discovered supernatural in september 2011, almost a decade ago. there wasn’t a whole lot in the way of queer representation then, and much of what did exist was sorely lacking. all i personally had at that point was glee, which would unfortunately become notorious for its complex queerphobia despite its verifiable rainbow of explicitly queer characters. so when i learned about supernatural and the mountains of homoerotic subtext that purportedly existed between two of its main characters on a quite literally cosmic level, i mainlined that shit so fast you would’ve thought i was actively dying of thirst. i started watching supernatural EXCLUSIVELY because of seeing destiel all over my dash. i clung to dean and cas--as individual queer characters and as a queer romantic relationship--like a life preserver. i didn't realize it fully then, but i was watching queer media history in the making. dean: a deeply traumatized, emotionally repressed, and faithless bisexual man with a heart of gold on fire; and cas: an immensely powerful, impossibly naive, eldritch gay angel without a soul but with ice blue grace in his veins, would genuinely fall in love with each other in the most epic of slow burn romances, against ALL fucking odds, defying narrative constraints both in-fiction and in the real world. i had never seen a love story (and it WAS a love story) told like theirs before, much less an inherently queer love story, unfolding over the course of more than a decade of television.

and this was entirely by accident! i cannot stress enough that the people making supernatural never ever intended for destiel to actually happen; they just kind of tripped and fell into it through a series of increasingly unfathomable circumstances, including the writer’s guild of america strike and misha collins’ general existence. once the supernatural creators realized that this baton had dropped from the sky and into their hands and they actually started trying to run with it, they ended up writing a truly UNBELIEVABLE amount of text and subtext between dean and cas that oops, became so intrinsically interwoven with the larger narrative, it stopped being queerbaiting and unintentionally veered into queercoding before barrelling straight into: oh shit, i guess we’re actually doing this thing now. yes, supernatural inadvertently stumbled into the greatest love story ever told by pure fucking chance. and boy howdy, their sheer ineptitude in handling this story with the care and nuance it so richly deserved was astoundingly astronomical.

we were viciously and maliciously queerbaited with destiel for TWELVE ENTIRE YEARS, straight up fuckin gaslit for more than a decade by the proverbial powers that be, who told us time and time again that we were somehow delusional for deigning to read dean and cas’ relationship as romantic, when THEY were the ones repeatedly writing their dynamic with undeniably romantic overtones DIRECTLY IN THE TEXT. i was deep in the supernatural fandom for just over two years, but i eventually jumped ship in october 2013, a handful of episodes into season 9 airing, because by that point i KNEW i was bisexual, and i KNEW that queer fans of supernatural who saw destiel for what it was were being deliberately lied to and manipulated, and i’d had enough. up until november 5th, 20 fucking 20, i hadn't been anywhere NEAR supernatural. if i were to time travel to october 2013 and tell my 21-year-old self that in ten years 1) destiel would become canon the same night that donald fuckening trump would be voted out of office as president of the united states of america, and 2) i would become so hyperfixated on supernatural again in the ensuing months that i would experience an unprecedented creativity renaissance and be more active in fandom than ever before, i would’ve punched me in the fucking face. the fact that i’m writing this post at all is utterly bonkers. and yet, here we are.

it’s hilariously astounding to me how the supernatural bigwigs are STILL doing their damndest to gaslight fans into believing that destiel never existed, placing literal actual fucking gag orders on their actors which prevent them from being able to talk about their characters or destiel in any meaningful way that acknowledges what happened in their own show. THEIR OWN FUCKING SHOW. when like. they did that. THEY did. them. they planned, wrote, filmed, and aired that. fucking.

ANYWAY.

twelve years later, destiel is canon. homophobically, but like, it happened. and no matter how vehemently the powers that be are trying to sweep it under the rug, it HAPPENED.

the best, most beautiful thing to take away from all of this, is that destiel (and everything else that was great about supernatural) has always transcended the limitations of the established narrative and created its own unique narrative, and that narrative has always belonged to supernatural fans, particularly so now that the show is over. destiel belongs to us. we know that dean and cas are very much alive and well and happy together, and so are the rest of their family and friends, as they all deserved to be. we’ve come together to take charge of the narrative and tell the story of supernatural as it was meant to be told: with love. because, at its core, that is what supernatural is truly about. after all, love is stronger than death.

[god-of-identity]

i’ve been listening to way too many creepypastas.

@irrelevant-proxy-bitch as promised, my creepypasta sona/oc origin story. hopefully it meets the standards, heh

Genesis Caveat Origin

or, How I Became a Proxy

That thing is watching me again.

I first noticed it after a particularly boring day of school. I hadn’t paid attention in most of my classes, instead opting to scroll through Tumblr, mess around on Discord, and listen to Creepypasta readings on Youtube. I’m probably failing most of my classes at this point. I can’t bring myself to care. I can’t bring myself to care about much of anything these days. Fiction is the only thing that piques my interest, those made-up worlds are so much more entertaining than the boring one I’m stuck living in. That’s probably why I like writing so much, I can create and destroy whole worlds with no consequence to me, I can control everything and nothing, and it can be as entertaining as I want it to be.

I’m getting off-track. Sorry.

I’d been ignored all day, as per usual, so when I was walking home and felt someone watching me, I was confused and more than a little curious. I normally walk at a fairly quick pace, but I slowed my steps a little when I felt I was being watched. I turned to look behind me, but no one was there. The sidewalk was empty. Actually, the whole street was empty, which is what caused my anxiety to spike. There were no people, no cars, even the storefronts looked empty. I turned back forward and picked up my pace again, walking quickly all the way home. It wasn’t until I’d reached my front door that I realized the feeling of that stare had vanished the instant I’d turned around.

Since then, I’ve felt that stare every time I walk home from school.

After the first day, I didn’t bother looking back. Something told me I wouldn’t be able to see anyone if I did. I was more than a bit creeped out by the whole thing. Why was someone spying on me? How long had they been watching me before I noticed? I was half-convinced I’d been singled out because I’m a textbook wallflower- no one at school would know if I went missing, and they definitely wouldn’t care. If someone snatched me while I was on my way to school, my parents wouldn’t find out until I was late getting home, and by then their frantic calls to the school and police wouldn’t do a thing- I’d probably be long gone.

I guess I was right about that part, heh. Just not for the reasons I thought.

. . .

I’m getting ahead of myself. Where were we? Ah, right.

It’s the seventh day of me being stared at as I’m walking home from school. For the past week, caution won out over curiosity, and instead of trying to spot whoever’s stalking me, I’ve just gotten home as fast as I can. I also made a habit of texting my parents when I leave school- they know how long it’s supposed to take me to get home, so if I get kidnapped they’ll know sooner. Same as when I head to school in the mornings, because I’ve been feeling the gaze on me then too.

I think part of me always knew it wasn’t human.

Shit, sorry. Focus.

Anyway, walking home. Seventh day in a row. Blah blah blah. Only this time, my curiosity outweighed my caution. Maybe I was just so damn bored of the life I had, that I’d do anything to mix things up. Actually, I’m sure that’s what it was. Suffice to say, as I walked down the eerily empty street, this time I slowed my steps instead of speeding them up. Then I slowly turned my head to look behind me. And saw it. The thing that was stalking me. I only caught half a second’s glance before it vanished, but that was enough. The details flashed in my mind. Tall, freakishly so. Black suit, torn sleeves. Something like tentacles raised up behind it. And the face- no face. At least not that my mind allowed me to see.

Then it vanished.

I spun back forwards and sprinted the rest of the way home.

The minute I got home I locked myself in my bedroom, drawing the curtains closed and booting up my laptop. A barely comprehensible entry in the Google search bar was autocorrected in seconds, and with a shaking hand, I moved the mouse to click on the images tab. Photoshopped pictures, fanart, and blurry photos stared back at me.

“I knew it.”

Like I mentioned at the start of this narration, I listen to a lot of creepypasta readings on Youtube. So I’m familiar with some of the stories. Laughing Jack. Jeff the Killer. Lost Silver. So many others. And of course, the one that started it all.

Slenderman.

“Holy fuck.”

I was being stalked by Slenderman. Why? And why hadn’t he killed me? I needed answers. Luckily, the internet is a magnificent place. I curled up in my swivel chair and started typing away, searching up everything I could about Slenderman and his proxies. Even the stuff I already knew, I read or listened to again. I took in as much information as possible. It’s said that knowledge is power, and for some things, the more you know, the more danger you’re in. But in this case, well. I’d seen him. He knew I’d seen him. What did I have to lose?

The next time I look at my clock, it’s nearly five in the morning. I’d done about all the research my brain could handle, even with my hyperfixations running at full throttle. More info probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

I’d made my decision, my plan.

Now, to execute it.

I empty my backpack of school supplies and pulled out a Sharpie. Lowering the felt tip to the fabric on the inside of the backpack, I let out a slow breath. With things like this, power always came from belief, at least that’s what the stories told me. I’d seen him, I knew it was real, it was all real. Now that I knew that, anything was possible. The line between fiction and reality is blurring.

As an author, it’s my job to break it.

I scribble a phrase on the inside of the backpack and capped the sharpie. Then I reach over to one of the books I’d stacked in the ‘bring with’ pile and drop it in.

The book hit the bottom of the bag and vanished.

I grin and reach in, hand passing through a cool sort of veil. I feel around, grabbing the book, and pull it out. It worked. It worked! I giggle, flapping my free hand in excitement. Pocket dimension backpack, success!! I start piling the books into it, all the stories I will carry with me. Then my sketchbooks and drawing supplies. My laptop, chargers, wallet, phone, anything I think I might potentially need. Even some of the food and drinks I’d snuck into my room. My blankets and pillow. Some clothes I’d grown attached too. Hell, let’s bring my stuffed animals and collection of keepsakes too, why not? It can all fit! I empty my shelf of little knick-knacks into the backpack. Nearly everything that I can lift in my room has gone into that pack.

Now… to wait.

7am. I make my move.

I stand in front of the mirror in my room, looking myself over. I’m wearing an outfit I wear almost every day. Grey jacket with a red upside-down heart on the chest, grey shorts with red on the edges, boots, a long red scarf, and a pair of fingerless gloves. The only difference is that now, all my clothes have been altered by my newly discovered ability. I’m calling it “author powers” because that’s the closest I can get to properly explaining it. Now, my entire ensemble is fireproof, waterproof, and much harder to cut through that ordinary cloth. My boots are much more comfortable and molded to my feet. Everything fits just right.

Oh, one more thing. I pick up the blue-light glasses I’d left on my desk. I don’t even have to write on them to alter them, but it’s a fun little gimmick so I might just keep doing it. A couple lines on the glasses, and they’re suddenly much more useful. They’ll function as sunglasses now too, as well as a night vision and heat-seeking mode. And they’ll stay on my face without falling off. I push the glasses up my nose and look back into the mirror.

I guess the function wasn’t the only thing I altered. My ability has a lot to do with intentions.

Instead of glasses, I’m wearing a black mask with turquoise lenses. The mask only covers the upper half of my face. But that’s not the only thing that’s changed. Instead of my hair being the usual dirty-blonde and down to my shoulders, it’s pink, shorter and sorta spiked up- at least that’s the best way to describe it. Not spiked, that’s too sharp. But I can’t find another word right now, so we’ll stick with it. It was a transformation I hadn’t anticipated, but one that I’m sure to keep. I grin, showing teeth sharper than normal.

“This is gonna be fun.”

I hear someone in the kitchen. My dad, getting ready for the day. It’s Saturday, so he doesn’t have work. We don’t have a foster kid at the moment, so mom will be sleeping in. And my sister is still asleep in her bedroom. Perfect.

I raise a hand, seeing the black claws that now extend from the ends of my gloves. I’d been wondering how I’d get to a knife, but I guess now I won’t need one. I tighten the straps of my backpack and step out of my bedroom.

“Heh. Time to raise hell.”

~

Six days later. Thirteen days since this all started.

It took me for-fucking-ever to find the mansion. Even longer to get there with the burden I’m dragging along. But here I am. It looms over me, giving off the same creepy vibe I got from my stalker. I know he’s there, and he knows I’m here. Someone will answer the door soon, I don’t even have to knock.

The smell of blood isn’t as bad as I thought. I’m glad I made my clothes stain-proof, I’d hate to have to throw away my gloves. As I’m waiting, I tap my foot idly and inspect my fingers. I have a nasty habit of biting the skin around my fingernails, which shows even with my claws. Oh, there’s blood on my claws. Not quite dry, so I just lick it off. Huh, doesn’t taste that bad either.

Someone’s moving inside. I straighten up slightly, hand dropping to my side. I nudge one of the bodies next to me with a foot, then take a half-step away when an arm flops to the ground. I look back to the door, arms crossed (carefully, to avoid cutting myself) as I wait. The door finally creaks open, revealing someone I don’t recognize. I assume it’s one of the proxies, but it’s not one that I’ve read anything about. Only one way to find out.

“You’re one of his proxies, I assume?” Even my voice is different, with the mask. I like it.

The proxy laughs. “Fuck yeah, I’m the number one proxy bitch. But you can call me Irre.” She pronounced it like ‘eerie’, which I thought was fitting.

I snort with amusement and take a moment to look the proxy up and down. She has pale blue skin, long hair that faded from black into red, and silver eyes. She’s about my height, maybe an inch shorter, with a healthier-looking build than the almost-too-skinny twig stature I see every time I look in the mirror. She even looks to be about my age too, give or take a year. She gives off a chaotic sort of presence, but in a way that’s almost difficult to perceive. I’m reminded of my school days, blending into the background. After a few people told me my stare was creepy, even though I’d just been looking at them, I didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Apparently I had an intensity others found unsettling, but only if they noticed me. I’m reminded of that with this proxy, only with chaotic energy instead. I smile slightly. We might just get along.

“Well, nice to meet you, number one proxy bitch,” I respond with a chuckle. “Speaking of proxies. Where do I sign up? I brought a peace offering.” An idle hand gesture draws her attention to the bodies sprawled next to me. Two bodies, carved up with precise markings, and very much dead. What remains of my parents. My claws had marked them, turned their corpses into a work of art. I’d saved the blood, bagged it and put it in my backpack. I might need it later.

Irre looks the bodies over and grins. “I think you’ll fit in just fine here. Course, that’s not my decision.” She glances back at the house. “The others will get curious soon. Last chance to turn back.”

“I’m not going back. Besides, he sought me out first,” I admit. “Took me awhile to figure it out. But I’m here now.”

She nod in understanding. “In that case… what’s your name?”

I grin, showing sharp teeth. “I am Genesis Caveat.”

[spirit-shroud]

i replayed kz again tonight and managed to beat it in 4 hrs instead of 11 !!! which is rly cool imo, i think i got a max of like 50 deaths or less for the full run ??? i was just playing regularly but usin the prism blade for the cool blood effects, not in speedrun mode for the counter, and i managed 2 drag my friend into hyperfixation hell with me :} but also i have some thoughts and opinions im not rly sure how to compile in a meaningful way, so here’s the like. pure brain-down-on-blog post version under the cut. if this gets auto-tagged into the real actual tag for this game im very sorry for my hubris im just. thinking emoji

so id like to start this with the final boss makes me SO sad :( like yeah she doesnt have much dialogue but idk she just makes me so sad. she’s so desperate and she Knows shes going to lose and im just like. no!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you’re so cool!!!!!!! Please Be My Friend We Can Work Together. I Know A Guy :c like usually final bosses are like weirdly emotional for me but she was just SO COOL and realizing like WAIT THIS BOSS OPERATES UNDER THE SAME RULES I DO was just like WOW even if as i kept dying (and i think i spent like... 3 hrs on the final boss alone lmao the first time, i killed her on my third attempt this run which was very cool of me) i finally realized that she IS pretty repetitive and got all her patterns n variables down super easy, but like, fighting another null who Should for all intents and purposes be just as absurd and powerful as i am, and eventually being able to down her effortlessly, and then the withdrawal affects of the chronos kicking in as well, and its just like. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

dont even get me STARTED on that ‘to be continued’ like yeah there’s a dlc comin but the game mentions repeatedly that its just the first act which has me like OKAY. SPECULATION TIME (what am i speculating on? literally no idea im not even rly at the speculation phase im still in the WOW COOL VIDEO GAME phase) 

and i rly like the dragon/fifteen but the first time i saw him i was just like. who’s this f*llmetal alchemist looking bitch ??? what’s he doin here?? go HOME and controlling him is AWFUL i hate the dragon tape so MUCH >:C but also he’s like. cool. i want to know more about him n his plot 2 take down Juncture n the government n whatever. 

but also i was listen 2 Full Confession bc it’s just. what the heart wants rn. i need to be sad and caffeinated in order to get into the Writing Zone rn and then i was THINKIN like my friend mentioned while we were playing the dragon tape that the song that plays is very similar to Full Confession (which i had sent him earlier while i was losing my mind over the final boss) and then i was like. Hm. these are very similar but have such wildly different moods -- Breath of the Serpent is much more like. ‘you’re going to be afraid of me’ while Full Confession is like ‘i’m afraid of you’ and i think that the different Vibes from these two soundtrack bits about important Null characters is just like. WOW and i wonder how a version of it that was purely Zero’s might be. would it be more triumphant? more flat? what desperation or emptiness is in there that could be drawn out by this melody??? i dont KNOW and i can’t write music unfortunately but im just like AAAAAAAAAA

i also rly wanna know what snow has going on ??? like. shes clearly important. she is a vital npc. but Why. she didnt even rly do anything except Show Up???

fuck V. all my homies hate V. the motorcycle fight was a lot of fun tho i rly liked that section even if my therapist was mad at me afterwards

also i think elizabeth/the little girl is rly cute and the fact zero was just like. ‘hm. well guess i have a daughter now’ so fast w/ her (at least, with the dialogue trees me n my pal kept going down) and im just. So Hoping we can rescue her in the dlc :( i miss her so much and im so like. worried abt that like pls give me back my daughter you dumbasses i cant even read ur dialogue without my brain being like ‘yeah these r just squiggly lines, boss. gl’ 

i also want to believe that the masked men arent real (bc idk, it’s just easier for me to process that they’re the result of chronos withdrawal) but the problem w/ that is like. they definitely kidnapped elizabeth, and i want so desperately to believe that elizabeth IS real n that zero genuinely wants to protect her (and by extension, the part of himself that is still human) 

ALSO THE PSYCHIATRIST i was just like. Okay. I Must Get A Good Grade In Therapy. n kept being nice n cooperative and helpful to this clown ass and then THAT ENDING ??? like i didnt even get the Bad Therapist Ending i was just like. fucka you! attacka you with a rock! (i do however want to try the therapist boss it sounds like a lot of fun) but i just. i hate him! he sucks! find a better therapist zero u rly need one im sorry for ur problems disorder :( like hes clearly a guy who just works for the government n wants 2 keep a leash on our man 

n the contradictions, hes like. yeah ur killing everyone related to chronos so it can no longer be produced ♥ but dw ur special we totally wont just withhold chronos from you as soon as u finish ur tasks dw about it ♥ and its like. Hm. I Dont Think Thats Right !!!! 

also i wanna learn more about what Juncture has going on??? what are they like. Doing besides poisoning water n making lighters ?????? it’s clearly a lot 

also the art for this game is just so GOOD,,, like. i didnt rly notice a lot of the backgrounds my first playthrough bc i was just losing my mind the whole time trying to solve each puzzle but the second playthrough im just like. AAAAA. and the soundtrack? effervescent. groundbreaking. perfect. So Good 

and the GAMEPLAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my GOD i was SO vibing with it, the difficulty curve was kinda extreme imo but as soon as i started like. Getting It? and started looking at each room less like combat/fighting and more like a puzzle that needed to be solved it made it so much easier 2 get into the headphase of ‘okay how do i clear this’ and it was just like. YOOOOOOOO

and zero is just a lot of fun 2 play as. legitimately everything about him is just so ridiculous. his dialogue options? ridiculous. his design? absurd. the implications that hes like. 22 and just having the worst 10 days of his life? mood, buddy. this guy likes samurai movies and card games and mushroom pizza and has worn the same outfit every single day for who knows how long and hes also a war veteran, an emotionless serial killer and a drug addict. and hes 22 and 5′10. literally NOTHING about those traits make sense together but here he is, just Vibing. 

i love him so much. im going to make a self insert oc that’s just giving him a friend who knows how to cook n is just like ‘oh wow, that’s rough buddy’ when hes like ‘i only feel alive when i kill people’ and conveniently knows how 2 get bloodstains out of things bc i think he needs that kind of person in his life since his like. therapist is conspiring against him n he keeps having 2 kill his friends 

also, unfortunately, i want to get every achievement, which i feel like is going to become hld....2!! where i get all but 1 of them and am stuck at 96% for 2+ years >:T

[eldritchsurveys]

725.

Do you have any allergies? >> Nope.

Do you have any hormone problems? >> No.

Do you take any medications daily? >> I take the Pill daily and also CBD, which I’m basically using as medication.

Do you take vitamins? >> No.

What languages do you speak? >> Just English.

Do you know anyone who is colorblind? >> Maybe.

What's the best thing that's ever happened to you? >> ...

Have you ever thought you were going to die? >> Yes.

Have you ever had an allergic reaction scare? >> Nope.

What bones have you broken? >> None.

Do you wish you had the power to switch off and on your emotions? >> No. I wish I had the power to deal with my emotions in a healthy fashion.

What are some news stories that have stuck with you? >> JFK Jr’s death happened when I was like ten years old or something, and for some reason that stuck with me. I remember drawing a picture of some kind of flower, like you’d put on a coffin, while the news report was playing. Some shit just hits weird when you’re a kid, I guess.

Have you ever been in extreme pain that you would rate a 10? If so, what was it from? >> I’ve always had really bad period cramps, bad enough that I would just straight up lose all sense of myself for hours because the pain was so bad that my brain just checked out. It’s one thing when that happens at home, but in the middle of the day in high school? (The hallway to the nurse’s office felt eighty miles long. I always had to get picked up early.) While I’m at an appointment? (Ended up on the floor of the bathroom stall, probably sounding like a dying cow. Someone called an ambulance.) While I’m walking down Bleecker Street? (Laid on the sidewalk for an indeterminate amount of time, like laid out.) So, you know, I don’t know anything about a pain scale, but that definitely is the worst physical pain I’ve known, and partly why I take the Pill.

Have you ever given birth? >> No, and I never fucking will.

What's the highest fever you've ever had? >> I don’t know if I’ve ever had a fever.

Have you ever gone to the emergency room? >> Yes.

Have you ever coughed so hard you threw up? >> Nope.

Have you ever had cramps so bad you threw up? >> Yeah, that would happen sometimes. More often when I was younger.

Have you ever made anything out of duck tape? >> No.

Do you like palazzo pants? >> I don’t know what they are and don’t feel like googling.

Would you travel to Paris if given the chance? >> Sure, why not. It’s not a high priority but I wouldn’t turn it down.

What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you? >> Hm.

How old were you when you first encountered God, if applicable? >> I don’t think I’ve ever encountered the god that is insinuated by this question.

How old were you the first time you felt loved? >> As I am now, I don’t know what that feels like, so I can’t figure out when I’ve felt it in the past.

Were you abused? >> Yes.

Does inequality bother you? >> I mean, sure, sometimes.

Who was your favorite teacher? >> ---

Did you ever want to be a teacher? >> No.

Do you look good in brown? >> I am brown, and I think my skin looks wonderful. So I’m sure clothes the same colour would look just as good.

Do you prefer crosswords, word searches, or sudoko puzzles? >> Crosswords. Word searches can be good when I want a simple game with a guaranteed completion.

Are adult coloring books tedious? >> Colouring can be a tedious activity in general if you’re not in the mood for it, but I don’t think adult colouring books are any more or less tedious than any other kind.

What do you do to relax? >> I don’t do anything specific.

Do you live alone? >> No.

What's your favorite place you've lived? >> Hm.

Did you ever think your house was haunted? >> I believed there was something hanging around an apartment I lived in back in 2009.

Do you believe in auras? >> I don’t have any opinion on the concept.

Have you ever seen a spirit? >> Probably.

Do you have any food intolerances? >> I’m personally intolerant to bananas, but that’s more mental than physical.

Do you like camping? >> Yeah.

What's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? >> *shrug*

What's your favorite place to go on vacation? >> New Orleans.

Do you enjoy rainy days? >> Sure, sometimes. More than I enjoy snowy ones, that’s for sure.

Do you own anything chevron print? >> No.

Ever thought about starting a business? >> No.

If you were to start a business, which kind would you start? >> I’d really rather not.

Do you have weak shoulders? >> Er... no? I don’t think so?

Are you more masculine or feminine? >> I refuse to participate.

Do you like unisex names? >> Sure.

What are some of your favorite unisex names? >> The way I see it, any name is unisex if you try hard and believe in yourself.

What are some of your favorite current fashion trends? >> I’m not sure what’s trendy right now. Fast fashion makes it impossible to keep up.

Do you like skinny jeans? leggings? jeggings? >> I don’t like any of these, really. On myself, I mean. I don’t like the way they feel on my body. On other people, absolutely fine.

Do you collect anything? >> No.

What exotic pet would you own if you were rich? >> I don’t want an exotic pet and I don’t want to be rich.

Did you want to change your name when you were younger? >> I’ve been changing my name since I knew how to speak, so.

Do you like your first name? >> Yes.

Are you named after anyone? >> Just myself.

What does your name mean? >> It’s uncertain.

When you're sick, do you look up your symptoms on the Internet? >> If I was sick and couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me, then yeah, I probably would.

Are you a member of any online support groups? >> No. But that suddenly reminded me of a forum that used to be online when I was a teenager/young adult, Recover Your Life. I was on that for a while. Haven’t thought about that in years.

Were you ever on a dance team? >> No.

What event in history do you wish you could reverse? >> ---

Would you rather have been born in a different era? >> No thanks.

Do you like being a millennial? >> I don’t care? It doesn’t mean anything to me.

What year were you born? >> 1987.

What are your initials? >> MSD.

Would you ever preach a sermon? >> No. I’ve entertained the idea, lmao (mostly because I have a thing for men of the cloth and I’ve wondered what it’d be like to be the object of my fixation), but no, it’s not a thing I’m actually interested in doing.

Do you pray regularly? >> No.

Do you have any good luck charms? >> No.

Do you make wishes on anything? If so, what? >> No.

What do you do when you can't sleep? >> Read. Unless it’s because of caffeine, and then I just flop around and try to stop hyperfixating on my heartbeat and probably cry out of frustration.

Do you enjoy sunrises? >> Yeah.

Are you more of a morning person or a night owl? >> I like the morning. I like the nighttime, too, but being awake at night ruins my ability to be awake in the morning and I don’t care for that.

Is your life boring? >> Sure, sometimes. Better for me than the alternative, I think.

Is your life hard or easy? >> It’s easier in some ways and harder in others. But the ways in which it’s hard now are vastly preferable to the ways in which it was hard before. It’s a struggle I accept.

What can you do to make your life more adventurous? >> I don’t want to make my life more adventurous, though. If I wanted to, there’s all kinds of shit I could do, I’m sure.

Do you live in the moment? >> Where (when) else am I going to live?

Have you ever had food poisoning? >> Yeah.

Have you ever had sun poisoning? >> No.

What do you do when you're bored? >> “Boredom” for me is understimulation, so it doesn’t really matter what I do, it won’t go away until it damn well pleases.

What makes you come alive? >> *shrug*

Are you ashamed of anything? >> *shrug*

Do you like going to the dentist? >> Fuck no.

Do you wear glasses? >> No.

Do you have a sibling who looks like you? >> ---

Do you look more like your mom or your dad? >> ---

How tall are you? >> 5′5″.

Would you ever want to live in a castle? >> No. That’s a lot of upkeep.

Have you ever been to a Chinatown? >> Yeah, many times.

Do you like snow? >> Eh. Not really, not anymore. It’s pretty for like ten minutes.

Do rainbows excite you? >> No. They are pretty, though.

What part of nature fascinates you the most? >> The nature part.

Were you born in your favorite season? >> Yeah.

Do you ever shop at Goodwill? >> I have, and I would in the future, but I don’t like to go very often. It’s just stressful for me for a couple of reasons.

Do you ever shop at the dollar store? >> Sure.

What does your favorite coffee mug look like? >> It’s white, yellow on the inside, and has a cute drawing of a cactus on it.

Do you go to Starbucks regularly? >> I never go to Starbucks.

What wakes you up? >> Either some environmental noise or just... a natural return to consciousness.

Do you like sushi? >> Sure.

What's your favorite brand of flavored water? >> ---

Do you drink iced tea? >> Sometimes. There’s a couple of brands I like.

Do you have neat handwriting? >> Eh, it’s passable.

Who's the last person you wrote a letter to? >> ---

Do you have long hair? >> No.

How many hours of sleep do you need to function? >> I mean, I can function on four, but it’s still diminished function. I prefer seven to eight.

What's the highest amount of kids you've babysat at one time? >> ---

Did you enjoy your first job? >> No.

Have you ever had a job you hated? >> Yes.

Are you an introvert or an extravert? >> Meh.

Are you behind on chores? >> Yeah, I haven’t vacuumed since Sparrow was put on furlough.

Are you struggling? >> I’m always struggling, bruh.

Do you need someone? >> Er.

Do you own a shirt with an elephant on it? >> I own a maxi dress with an elephant on it. It’s very comfortable.

Does gray look good on you? >> It looks fine.

[bidokja]

okay y'know what, i'm elaborating. here's why they're an adhd/autism power couple.

kdj's adhd:

hyperfixated on one series (cough and one character cough) for like half his life.

cannot stick to a routine for the life of him even if it would help out immensely. outside the box is his go to way of doing things.

cannot just Not Do Things aka CAN'T sit still for one moment. he has an idea and he follows through with it right there, good or bad.

makes very fast leaps between different points to arrive at unorthodox solutions.

related to the previous point: kind of sucks at slowly working through things, and slowly thinking about things will often make him second guess himself, but he is EXCELLENT at putting out fires/emergencies/quick thinking.

Fake It Til You Make It is his go to coping strategy.

cannot. self-monitor or self-regulate. to find out/address. what he wants and needs. for the life of him. LITERALLY for the life of him this shit has gotten him Killed.

comorbid depression baybee. which, yes, he'd have regardless but he has depression/processes trauma in a very adhd way i am unable to succinctly explain this he just Does.

yjh's autism:

special interest is Swords.

loves routine. he likes structure and it helps him a lot. (ex: it why training is something he actually enjoys and helps calm him.)

inversely, he can get Stuck in routines/repetition. and whether he is in a routine because he Likes it or he is Stuck in it, he gets Frustrated when the routine is broken.

has a very neutral/stoic default face that people mistake for him always being angry even when he isn't.

linked to that, he (usually, but NOT always) displays emotions in "indirect" ways. ex: when he's really happy about the new sword he doesn't smile or get all energetic, but he never puts it down, and kdj notes he had a specific dirt stabbing/digging motion he does when he likes a new sword.

*points up at that last part of that last sentence* that's a stim.

very emotional. no. seriously. i've made entire multi-paragraph posts about this. and those posts STILL don't cover everything. he's very emotional and gets really attached to people. he also displays this extreme attachment "indirectly." it's through actions, and oftentimes those actions are not a (cought neuro- cough) "typical" way to express emotional attachment.

he's Observational. he picks up on a lot. people never give him enough credit for this honestly.

also has comorbid depression, but processes his depression and trauma in a very different way to kdj, and it has a lot of hallmarks of how autistic ppl process their depression and trauma.

and for Both of them, certain social cues? fwoosh. that was the sound of those cues flying over their heads.

literally this is just what i can think of off the top of my head there is DEFINITELY more. autistics and adhd-ers feel free to add on if you think of any overall points. everyone else do NOT clown on this post is2g.

dokhyeok are an adhd/autism power couple