burnt out eyes

Dating Mephisto Pheles would include
  • Anime marathons & cuddling
  • Arguments over who’s the best girl in anime (love live - Kotori, don’t argue with me on this)
  • Being surrounded by snacks
  • Playing the pocky game
  • Playing video games together, and him moping on the times you beat him, and cheering him up with a kiss
  • Singing along to opening & ending songs together 
  • Sitting on his knee, no matter the place, in his office, public, his mansion
  • Taking bubble baths together
  • Being extremely powerful at what you do
  • Cute nicknames “Come here Princess/What’s wrong kitten?/Come sit on Daddy’s lap and tell him all about it.”
  • Finding his dog form adorable 
  • Trusting each other completely
  • Him sharing his plans with you
  • ‘Lending his clothes’
  • Him being mad that your wearing his rare af honey-honey sisters yukata but forgiving you because you look sexy in it
  • Doing couple cosplays together
  • Winning the best cosplay awards
  • Getting along with Amaimon, having minimal conversations, it’s not like Amaimon is really interested
  • Him showing you his tail to show complete trust
  • The kinkiest sex in existence 
  • Dressing up as his favourite anime characters for him
  • Having sex literally everywhere
  • Almost getting caught every time
  • Being caught a few times, once by Angel, which you suspect Mephisto somewhat planned
  • Rin walking in on you once, his eyes burnt out of his sockets in horror, much to your and Mepphy’s amusements
  • Being a “student” at True cross and being called to the principals office during class
  • “Hmm, what’s this miss Y/L/N, you’ve received two detentions this week for tardiness…hmm, how should I punish you?”
  • You recognising the smirk on his face and the gleam in his eyes
  • Being laid over his knee to receive your punishment 
  • Not only being spanked but he unleashes his claws as well
  • Him pulling back up your panties and cupping your cheeks wiping away any blood, licking it off his fingers
  • “I hope you’ll behave from now on little one, now go back to class.”

Originally posted by pinkheadshima

Originally posted by tumwrr

If you’d like any other ao no exorcist characters please request it! I will also do ships and other head cannons, I’ll do mostly anything so just ask! 

All the little things

The missing scene where Scully tells Mulder she’s in remission. As blogged so eloquently by @sunflowerseedsandscience 
Noticed the @2momsmakearight has a missing scene challenge too, so here’s my shot at that.

If she could have breathed him in, his essence, she would have. Inhaled with all her might and held her breath for days. But the tumour had all but destroyed her sense of smell. Still, she knew he was there. She could feel him at the deepest level, in a way she would never have been able to explain in a report.

           “Mulder?” Her voice broke over the incessant hum of the hospital room.

           “Hmm?”

           She heard his shirt rustle as he moved in the chair. “How long have you been here?”

           He sat forward on his elbows, and mussed his hair. She noticed how long and elegant his fingers were. Piano hands, her mother would say. His right cheek was lined from the vinyl of the high-backed chair. His tie was loose around his neck and his collar unbuttoned. Somehow, it seemed fitting that he should be suited up, however creased. Fox Mulder wore a suit well. She thought about how the pleated waistband of his pants sat snug against his hips. She’d always had a thing for hipbones. Rubbing a thumb over the rounded knob of bone, spreading her palm flat across a taut stomach. She’d had enough time recently to think about all the little things she would never do again and that had been one. It was the oddest things that struck her. Of all the horrors she had seen in her professional life, the simple cruelty of her reality had been by far the worst.

She reached out her hand and touched his. His fingers curled around hers with such tenderness that she could imagine him as a lover, how gentle, how considerate, how reverential.

           “I tried to go home, Scully, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear to go back and sit in my apartment. I…just need to be here some more.”

           She tried to roll herself further to the side of the bed, to close the distance between them. There had been times in their relationship when that distance had seemed so vast it could never been reduced; when their differences served only to convince her that they would pull each other apart, unstitch, if one of them didn’t relinquish their hold on the seams of the partnership. But there were other times, more often recently, when she had felt his presence like a second soul, when their similarities had knitted together the edges of their resolve and they had worked as one.

           “Mulder, I have something to tell you.” She squeezed his fingers. He rubbed his face, his jaw clenching. He might be the psychologist but she was well versed in human reaction and paleness, shallow breathing and tension were all classic signs of the fear response. The Mulder fear repertoire also included impulsiveness, shouting, thumping walls or people and guilt.

           “No wait, Scully. I want to speak. I’ve been sitting here waiting for you…to wake up. I’ve been rehearsing this all night. I…can you let me go first?” His eyes clouded and she scooted closer to him, close enough to pull him forward and drop a kiss on his forehead. He sat back and the look he had on his face all but burnt her heart out. His eyes were red with early tears, his nostrils flaring as he tried to control his breathing, his stubbled chin set firm.

           “K…go ahead.”

           He shuddered out a breath and steepled his hands over his nose and mouth. His brow creased and she knew the skin there would be soft. She had an impulse to cover it in kisses, press her lips there long enough to imprint herself on his brain. Instead, she stored the image in the place where she kept her dreams and hopes and simple wishes.

           “I…we don’t do this talking thing very well. We excel at things unspoken. But since you’ve been in here, it hit me…” he broke off to issue a gentle chuckle, “too late of course, that there are too many things left unspoken. Not the big things, the declarations of love or the promises to continue the quest, but the hundred thousand other minutiae that make up a life.

He sighed and looked at her. “I can’t imagine never asking you again if you want cream in your coffee, or calling you on a Sunday morning to see if you’d seen the article in the Post, or telling you that Skinner wants to see us in his office in five minutes, or watching you sign your name at hire car desk where you’d have to stand on tiptoe to reach the counter, or hoping you’d say yes to adjoining rooms, or wondering if you’d belt me if I offered to carry your bags.”

           He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and she saw how his shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows and the tendons in his forearms flexed. “Mulder, you don’t have to do this.”

           “But I do, Scully. That’s just it. The big things have remained unsaid for a reason. The big things are measured by the way you’ve changed my life and I hope I’ve changed yours. By the way you’ve made me work for everything, by the way you’ve opened your eyes to the truth even when it hurt so much. But the little things, they cut deep.”

           She shifted, trying to get the pillow out from under her head, so she could sit up. He stood then, took the pillow from her and placed it up against the headboard. He slipped his arms under hers and around her back and gently turned her from her side so she could sit up. She felt her breasts crush against his chest their hearts joining momentarily and hoped he did too. He pulled the sheet and blanket up over her chest and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She was touched by his gentleness, his silent ministrations, his patent concern for her comfort even during his own distress. His eyes continued to well with tears and she noticed the tremble in his hands.

           “Mulder, I thought about the little things too.” She clasped her hands in her lap and snorted out a laugh. “All the time. How I would miss the way you stand you’re your hands on your hips when you’re frustrated, the way you chew on your bottom lip when you think too long, the vein in your temple that throbs when you’re angry, your Dad jokes and innuendos and hand in the small of my back.”

           Tears tracked down his cheeks now and he looked away, desperate to retain some modicum of dignity. “Scully…”

           She put a finger to his mouth. “Shh. It’s okay.” He broke into a choking sob and she let him cry it out. He shook against her, his forehead burning into her chest, melding their skin together.

           “Scully, I can’t do this without you. I can’t.”

           “You know what? You could if you had to.” She kissed his forehead, savouring the taste on her lips, she kissed his cheek, his stubbled jaw, the soft lobe of his ear and she whispered, “but you don’t, Mulder. The cancer is in remission. I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

           She felt his grip tighten on the back of her neck, she felt his shoulders heave upwards, then drop just as quickly, releasing his pent-up tension.

           “The chip worked?” His voice cracked in astonishment and for the longest time he remained silent, her head tucked under his chin, his head thrown back. His shoulders wobbled and his chest expanded and he laughed and he held her close and the bed creaked as his laughing turned to crying.

           She snuffed into his neck. “We don’t know if it was the chip, but the fact remains that I’m going to get better. And we’re going to get the chance to say all those little things, Mulder.”

           She let him sink into her, revelling in the heat of his breath in the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. She brushed her fingers over the fine hairs at his nape. She bunched the fabric of his shirt in her hand and settled to the rhythm of his sobbing. She lost track of time, but her eyes grew heavy and she had to push at him to get him to release her.

           “I’m tired, Mulder.”

           “Have I ever told you how your top lip curls so sedately round your teeth when you yawn, Scully? And how you make this tiny noise when you’re entering REM sleep, like a snuffly puppy? And how your pinky finger sticks out a little when you hold a spoon to eat your yoghurt?”

           “A snuffly puppy, Mulder?”

She closed her eyes and let him talk. He told her all the little things. And she thought about all the little things that she would tell him later. And later and later.

Behind These Bars

This is for @madamelibrarian‘s #MadameLibrarian’s SPN Writer Challenge
Pairing: Dean, Reader
Rating: Mature, 15+
Word Count: 987
Warnings: mention of domestic violence, death, beatings, self doubt, mental anguish, jail (if that’s a warning)
Summary: YN is taken to lock up for the night. She’s sure they don’t believe a word she’s said, she doesn’t believe it either. But her cellmate does.
A/N: This is set in jail, please adhere the warnings, it does get descriptive from the point of view of someone who was beaten by their spouse.

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The Choice (Dean x Reader) (6x21)

A/N So I’ve been on a supernatural watching spree and this idea came through. This episode is when Crowley kidnaps Lisa and Ben, with you dating him. With a twist of course. Enjoy,


Imagine you dating Dean when Crowley kidnaps Lisa and Ben. However, the whole thing makes you question your relationship. It also makes you wonder if Dean ever really stopped caring for them.

Originally posted by whoeveryoulovethemost

“Well, Samuel’s Journal’s are pointless.” Dean states, snapping the book shut, standing up.

“I mean, I’m sorry, but Jebediah Campbell has squat to tell me about how to stop Cas from cracking Purgatory!”

“Well, it’s not about the books we have, its about the one’s we don’t.” Bobby explains, entering the room.

“Meaning what? Sam inquires from the desk.

“Well that’s the bad news. Our pal Cas, didn’t stop in last night just to mend fences. He stole something.” Bobby reveals.

“What?” Dean demanded.

“The journal of one Moishe Campbell. Of the New York Campbell’s.”

“So we gotta get it back right?” You interjected, standing up from the corner chair you were in.

“Or just read the copy I had already made.” He pulled out a yellow envelope. “Hi, glad to meet ya, Bobby Singer, paranoid bastard.” Bobby smirked.

“That’s my uncle.” You smiled at him and took the envelope. You and the rest of the gang pouring over the contents inside.

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So when I screencapped my previous post about how much I love that little spiritshipping bit of the GX season 3 opening, I went on youtube to also find a clean copy that isn’t covered with the ID info for the subbing group, and found that actually, there appear to be two very very slightly different versions of the exact same opening. It’s not a different opening with the same song, it’s the same opening with subtly different animation.

In the first one, Judai starts out looking pretty sad:

Poor baby! But then he holds his head up high, determined to stand against all the horrible shit happening in this season:

Look at the determined glare on his cute baby face! He’s not beaten! And when his buddy comes along to support him, he also gives the audience a reassuring confident smile:

This season is REALLY miserable and stressful, so Judai has to close his eyes for a split second but Johan knows he’s okay, and believes in him and smiles determinedly:

And a syllable later, Judai holds his head up and glares into the distance just as determinedly. Together nothing will stop them!

Back to back! Badass and romantic at the same time!

But in the other version, something’s wrong…

Judai’s sad again, but in this version of this shot, unlike the first version, his eyesbrows don’t tilt downwards in a frown as he steels himself when he opens his eyes (scroll up to the top if you want to see). They stay tilted up, making him still look worried and sad. Nor do his eyes start frowning or ever look determined when he lifts his head:

He just looks lost and unsure and exhausted and like he’s holding back tears.

He doesn’t give any reassuring smile or look of acknowledgement to the audience. This time his misery and hopelessness is too deep to notice us, let alone comfort us:

Johan doesn’t smile this time either. He just looks REALLY REALLY WORRIED about how his buddy is doing:

Judai keeps his eyes closed longer this time, as if in deep psychic exhaustion and reluctance to face the world this time around, and Johan senses it:

R U OK BRO????? :(

When Judai does open his eyes he again is not frowning like he was in the first version, determined not to be beaten down by the shit in this season. In this version, he just stares blankly as if preoccupied and tired and burnt out, with his eyes half-closed:

Johan is still SUPER WORRIED and doesn’t smile until Judai’s expression turns from acute misery to weary serenity, still unable to conjure up even a ghost of the spirited glare and stubbornness he showed in the first version:

And then they stand proudly back to back, but this time there’s a whole lot less bravado or certainty about their show of support and solidarity, and Johan looks like he’s picking up the slack here rather than the two of them sharing the moment equally, due to the continuing expression of dull misery on Judai’s face:

I just thought it was really cool how a few tweaks in the animation can make the characters convey totally different emotions, and also was really curious about wondering WHY there are two versions. What possessed the animators to make two such subtly different versions of the exact same sequence? Especially when it’s CLEARLY done to make one version is sadder and more hopeless than the other one? And which one came first? Did they do the second one and then go “noooo this is too depressing let’s tweak it and make it a little more hopeful”? Or did they go “LET’S MAKE IT EVEN MORE MISERABLE AS THE SHOW BECOMES INCREASINGLY MORE MISERABLE MWA HA HA HA”??

anonymous asked:

4 - McCree and Hanzo, please.

Thank you for the prompt, anon! Prompt 4: ”We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair”

If you like having music while reading, I recommend Coming Up Roses by Eliza Rickman

There’s mention of burnt body and slight gore in this, so beware!

As usual, there’s link to Ao3 if you want!




It has been six years, four months and nine days since Hanzo woke up without a jolt.

Not that Hanzo was keeping track of it – but he remembered the date clearly, and it landing on a popular holiday in Japan just made the date even more unforgettable. Simple math allowed Hanzo to know exactly how many days since past, and if Hanzo sunk further into the memory, he could even pinpoint exactly how many hours had passed, but he promised Genji he would stop doing that.

Though promising Genji did not stop Hanzo from waking up with his heart pounding, in the midst of a panic attack. Only this time it was worse than usual.

Hanzo blinked rapidly and stared into the darkness. It didn’t feel like his room. It was too cramped and hot, and neither of that two was helping Hanzo’s heart calm down.

Someone stirred beside him, letting out a low grunt. The smell of cigarillos drifted into Hanzo’s nose and it helped Hanzo calmed down – somewhat.

McCree shifted on the small bed they were sharing during this god-awful mission that didn’t even provided a suitable sleeping quarter for two large men to rest in. This was the only bed in the tiny apartment. The apartment only had two rooms, one living room with a couch bed and coffee table plus a small bathroom. The other was a kitchen so crowded they wouldn’t be able to move freely if they both were in there.

And since the only bed was the couch, McCree and Hanzo had to share it. Which both men agreed it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. They have slept in worse places before and at least this time there were pillows and not just hard ground.

Apparently Hanzo spoke too soon. As McCree moved around on the small mattress, he was unconsciously squeezing Hanzo further into the wall. Hanzo shut his eyes, willing his breathing to return to a normal speed. The last thing he wanted was McCree waking up and finding Hanzo almost suffocating from how hard his heart was pounding.

The air was sticky and hot, warmth radiated off of the gunslinger’s half naked body. The warmth, a secret comfort for Hanzo at any other times now only made Hanzo want to recoil into the wall more. But as he presses against the wall, the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped intensified. There was nowhere Hanzo could go at the moment.

If only McCree wasn’t such a light sleeper, Hanzo might succeed in sneaking out of the bed and go sit in the bathroom, heaving through the worse part alone.

Hanzo kept still like that for the longest time, but felt no sign of calming or exhaustion that signal the possibility of rest. Hanzo only wanted to drift back into sleep, however uneasy the sleep might be.

Hanzo turned, and found McCree had been replaced by someone else.

Hanzo stared into the burnt out eyes of his brother and thought to himself: ah, so I did manage to fall asleep after all. Though whether this was better than the panic attack or not, Hanzo couldn’t decide.

Hanzo froze on the spot, a familiar nightmare, one that he never got used to.

Genji let out hard breath, the smoke smelled nothing like the spicy, sharp, comforting scent of McCree’s cigarillos.

Hanzo wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but his body couldn’t move a single muscle. The smoke from his brother’s body stung his eyes and made Hanzo teared up.

Genji’s lips cracked open, a piece of his upper lip stuck to his lower lip. A choke came out of Genji, and McCree’s voice calling “Sweetheart!”

Hanzo’s eyes snapped open, that unease of waking up from a sleep paralyzed hit him fast and hard. Hanzo instinctively wanted to shout, but only a shallow wheeze broke through. His muscles were weak and limp. The wetness in his eyes made everything bleary.

A pair of arms looped under his armpits and lifted him. McCree propped Hanzo up against the cool wall. Hanzo breathed in a shuddered breath. Still not seeing McCree, but hear him cooing to Hanzo somewhere on the left.

McCree was panicking, the original irritation of being woken up in the middle of the night was long forgotten. He turned around and searched blindly for a few moments. The room was too dark. After a few blinks McCree saw Hanzo’s eyes screwed shut, on his side facing McCree. Hanzo almost looked like he was not breathing, McCree had to cup his palm around Hanzo’s face to feel his shallow breathe.

“Hanzo,” McCree called softly, feeling the rapid pulse under his fingertips. “Hanzo, Hanzo, wake up. Sweetheart!”

Hanzo woken up eventually, but McCree know that waking up was nowhere near the end of a panic attack. Hanzo’s eyes were bleary and unfocused. McCree got Hanzo upright as soon as Hanzo seemed awake enough, letting him breathe easier.

Hanzo still hasn’t acknowledged McCree, his head lolled to the side. McCree cupped Hanzo’s face up with one hand, and held Hanzo’s hand with the other.

“Hanzo,” McCree said gently, despite the heavy weight in his stomach. “Shh, Hanzo, you with me?”

God, looking at Hanzo like this was burning McCree up so bad. The silent heartache of seeing the person you loved struggling to breathe while knowing the only thing you could do was wait it out. But at least McCree was here with Hanzo. He wanted to wrap his arms around the archer and hold onto him, but that would not help Hanzo at this moment, and that was more important than McCree’s own desire.

“Christ, Hanzo, can you hear me?” McCree asked as Hanzo untangled their hands, wrapping his arms around McCree’s waist weakly.

McCree was ready for it when Hanzo fell into his arms limply. Letting Hanzo lean on him, McCree ran a palm up and down Hanzo’s tattoo soothingly. Running his fingers through Hanzo’s hair, working out the tangles gently, and massaging Hanzo’s scalp.

“Hanzo,” McCree tried again.

“Jesse,” Hanzo replied quietly. “I apologize. I did not want you to see this.”

“Jesus Christ, Hanzo. You really think I give a fuck?” McCree murmured into Hanzo’s hair.

“Apparently not.”

“You’re damn right I don’t,” McCree said. “We’re… Hanzo. I care about your well-being. It ain’t a hard concept.”

Hanzo laughed miserably, but at least he wasn’t unresponsive now. McCree tentatively wrapped his arms around Hanzo loosely. Hanzo pressed in, his nose against McCree’s neck. McCree tightened his hold.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

McCree wasn’t expecting a yes anyway.

“There’s anything I can do for you?”

“This is enough.”

“You stop bullshiting me now, Shimada.”

Hanzo was silent for a few moments. His breathing finally slowed. McCree rested his cheek on the crown of Hanzo’s head.

“Hanzo?”

Hanzo stirred. “Maybe let me sleep on the outside.”

“Why’s that?”

“The wall was making me claustrophobic,” Hanzo admitted reluctantly.

“Shoot, I wish you would have told me that earlier.”

“I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“I could sleep on the floor.”

“I would rather you not.”

McCree didn’t reply. He shifted them carefully so his back was against the wall. Hanzo let McCree drag him to their new position, his lower body limply moved with McCree’s movement while his arms tighten around McCree.

McCree rested them against the wall for a while. Making sure Hanzo has recovered completely before asking if Hanzo wanted to go back to sleep.

Hanzo nodded, started pulling away. McCree tightened his hold, told Hanzo to not even think about it.

McCree scooted as gently as possible down to a lying position with a person in his arms. Settling Hanzo on the outside of the small bed they were sharing, still holding Hanzo.

“I’m so glad you weren’t alone when this happened,” McCree murmured.

“I am glad it is you with me when this happened,” Hanzo murmured back.

Hanzo buried his face in the crook of McCree’s warm neck. This time, he felt warm. McCree’s arms squeezed him tightly. This time, it made him feel safe.

“Good night, Hanzo,” McCree whispered softly into Hanzo’s hair. “Sweetheart.”

Primal

Kinks 76-Smutty/sloppy/dirty sex

Warnings: violence, language, primal!Gabriel, soulmates/bonded, rough sex, possessive!Gabriel, hair pulling, wing!kink

Word Count: 3315

Gender: Female

Author: Gwen

Part Two: Essential

Your name: submit What is this?


It was a bleak night with lightning providing the only source of light as the boys and you headed toward an abandoned mansion. Far away from town a large grand building stood with the occupancy of a couple demons that had terrorized the local area. Already two people were behind bars as they were believed to have kill their entire families, but the three of you knew better.

Rain started to hit the impala’s sleek black paint as Dean turned into the long gravel driveway, leading up to the house. A few yards away he cut the headlights, wanting the element of surprise for tonight’s hunt. The impala went around the same round-about driveway, a broken fountain in the middle, parking under a large oak tree to hide from view and protect it from the storm.

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sugar sweet

for anon

-

In hindsight, it could probably have gone way worse than it did.

Jimin blames it on his stupid, stomach.  To be fair, they did have an extra tedious dance practice that night, and even after the copious amount of chicken wings Taehyung had snuck into the dorm, Jimin finds himself woken by the rumbling of his stomach. The clock flashes a red 3:23am, and Jimin tries to go back to sleep, but to no avail. His stomach whines and whines until Jimin finally throws off his covers and rolls out of bed.

“Fine, fine,” Jimn gives a sleepy pat atop his stomach, as he slowly shuffles towards the kitchen. He’s still blinking away sleep, so he nearly misses that there are people in the kitchen already, nearly. If not for the fact, one of them is completely shirtless, and their faces seem to be smushed together.

Huh.

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Twelve Years Part 3

Prompt: You find out some of your son’s capabilities when an intruder enters your home.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1677

Part 1 Part 2

“I told you to stay out of my life,” you hissed after watching Tommy slowly walk up the stairs of your home. “And that meant Tommy’s life, too. Was that not clear?”

“He came to me,” Sam defended. “I was just bringing him back, Y/N, okay? I wasn’t intending on staying long.”

You sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose and closing your eyes, using the opened front door as support. “He is not your son,” you said.

“I know, Y/N,” he assured. “I believe you.”

You wanted to slap him for being so kind to you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He turned to walk away.

“It’s fine,” you said, your voice breaking against your will. You opened your eyes and saw that he was looking at you again, but a foot away from where he had been standing. “Just… It’s fine.” You sucked in a shaky breath.

“Y/N?” He stepped towards you. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

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4

Oh, oh! Hard to have fun when the light inside “Jimmy” is missing. Right, Dean?

Futuretale AU

AU Creator(s): Ginger

Official AU Blog: Yes

Creator Tracked Tags: None

AU Canon: Set in the future of 50xx, monsters and humans live separately on the surface. Long ago in 20xx, a fallen human child freed the monsters from their underground prison, allowing them to establish their own cities and towns outside of where humans lived in order to maintain an agreeable peace. The largest city of the monsters is named after Mt. Ebott where they resided, a booming utopia with massive skyscrapers built with technologies the world hasn’t seen yet. Humans, due to constant in-fighting and government issues, have not reached the advancements that the monsters have and fear the monsters will try to take them over. These fears have lead to a resounding hate for the monsters, who have now reenacted their own version of the past Royal Guards to protect them from potential human threats of war. Trade has been severed, and neither groups are allowed into the cities of the other. A few desperate humans who want to remain at peace, send a human ambassador to the monster city of Ebott to try and discuss peace. Monsters ended up losing their abilities for magic when they left the underground, encouraging the development of nanotechnological augments that allow them to used abilities similar to those of their past ancestors. The exception to this rule is Sans, who developed the technology. Note, the monsters who were released from the underground are not the monsters we know in-game, but are ancestoral monsters.

  • Frisk - a young adult non-binary human (he, she, they) around the age of 16 who dresses in a set of shorts and a lose shirt, elected as ambassador of a small peace group by vote. 
  • Dr. W. D. Gaster - Wing Ding Gaster, the retired previous royal scientist who left soon after an accident in the lab left his sons injured. He maintained his job from home until his older son Sans addressed interest in replacing him. 
  • Mrs. L.S. Gaster - Lucida Sans Gaster, the wife of Dr. Gaster, is well known throughout the monster world as the co-partner and founder of “Lucida and Muffets”, a popular restaurant line and bakery chain across the monster cities. 
  • Dr. Sans Gaster- Named after his mother, Sans has taken over as the most successful royal scientist after his father retired. An accident as a child in the lab caused him to fall into a vat of determination which burnt out his eyes, giving him full magical powers from the accident. Later he regains vision in his left eye, his pupil permanently green for an unknown reason. He is extremely stand-offish and somewhat brash in his behavior, rarely cracking a smile let alone a pun.
  • Sir Papyrus Gaster, the Great - the head of the royal guard and named after his grandfather, Papyrus is well known across the land for his augmented right arm as a result of some unknown accident. He also routinely shows up to Mettaton’s cooking shows, where thanks to his famous mother, is well known for his amazing pasta recipes. He tends to make jokes to try and uplift his brother’s spirits. 
  • Undyne - The previous head of the royal guard, she hand-trained Papyrus to replace her in order to take up a more intense positions as the body guard of the royal family. Seeing how strong Papyrus’ augmented arm was, she volunteered to have hers replaced by similar arms. 
  • Alphys - Sans’ lab assistant and the only one he has any real trust in, she spends her free time running a massive digital archive of monster and human history that also collects artifacts and books (a museum and library combined). She has a special place where she collects old cartoons and anime for kids to watch. 
  • Muffet - A highly successful and well-known baker, she teamed up with Lucida Gaster when offered the chance to start a restaurant business. Her specialty is baking, but she has become revered for cooking “exotic” human food. 
  • Mettaton, Napstablook, and Mad - Highly successful cyberwave (internet) stars, they routinely create music, put on dramatic performances, host cooking shows for Papyrus, serve as Ebott’s news source, and host a weekly show where Mad teaches people how to release anger by breaking stuff. Mettaton, Napstablook, and Mad all have fully robotic bodies that they have become formed with. 
  • The Royal Family - The Dreemur family all live together on the penthouse of a massive skytower. Asgore rules over his people as a peaceful king, while his wife routinely visits schools to teach children all about their history. Their son, Prince Asriel, is known for being an amazing fiction writer, his most famous piece is about a psychotic killer flower he calls Flowey. 
  • Grillby - A famous bartender who used to work for Lucida and Muffet, he moved on to his own bar and grill that hosts a night club. Popular among the younger crowds due to his crazy bar antics such as dousing himself in alcohol or chemical agents to change his fire color, he is normally seen as white fire with light green and blues mixed in. He is often seen with Sans whenever he leaves his lab. 

Official Canon Design:

(Artist)

All For an Advil

Request: I love your guys’ writing ^-^ , and I was wondering if you could a CasxReader where, Cas leaves to protect the reader from angels (taken place after the fall , when he is human) and they still find and toture her to find Cas , Fluff at the end,Please

A/N: I’m so sorry I just disappeared for a few days. I was sick over the weekend but I had a snow day today so I had the chance to write something. I’m sorry it’s kind of poorly done.

Author: Ellie

Warnings: Vague descriptions of torture, blood. Reader is sick. Slight abandonment, but for a good reason?? Over the counter pain medications. Fluff.

Words: 1,658

Summary: Castiel breaks up with the reader, fearing he will make her a target to Angels that aren’t too happy about being ejected from heaven. Stuck in the bunker for over a month, the reader snaps and goes outside to buy some medicine for her fever.

Fic:

It had been a month since your breakup with Cas.

He’d done it to protect you, that much you knew, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when you kissed him goodbye for the last time before he left the bunker. He was gone, and you felt empty. And worried. The Angels were targeting Castiel, and you didn’t know if he could fight them off in human form. You were constantly paranoid, and the lack of contact wasn’t helping matters. You were stuck at the bunker, bored and miserable, leaving only with Sam and Dean when they needed backup on a difficult hunt.

Normally you’d be out with them fighting the fight, but your relationship with Castiel hadn’t exactly been secret. Now that he was number one most wanted, everyone (even you, albeit grudgingly) had agreed you should lay low for a bit. While Cas couldn’t lay low with you in the bunker was beyond you.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, snapping you out of your thoughts and your library table cat nap.

“Yeah?” You called, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Sammy and I are leaving! We’ll be back in a few days. Don’t-”

“Leave the bunker. I know.” You groaned. Dean walked into the library, and you stood up to say goodbye.

“This sucks.” You moaned, giving him a hug.

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sugar water

ff.net, ao3

fandom: gravity falls (transcendence au)

word count: 1,800

summary: big ole body horror transformation sequence

warning: lots of body horror, eye trauma, emetophobia

“You’re falling apart,” Dipper observed plainly, staring up at the monster who’d wrecked not only his summer but probably the rest of his life. He took in a shallow breath, wincing as his chest burned with the effort.

“So?” Bill crossed his arms and glared down at the boy, blinking much more than he would have liked.

“What does that mean?” the boy asked, stretching to reach his hat. His fingers just barely brushed against the bill.

“You have to be the dumbest meatbag I’ve ever met. In any dimension. Ever.”

“You’re… dying?” he hazarded a guess, gritting his teeth as he tried to push his body across the rubble.

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S.coups: Playing With Fire (pt 1)

[table of contents] I.

Summary: superhero au… realized I haven’t done anything like this before which is weird because I love xmen and batman and deadpool…. so anyways yeah superhero au


“If I told you I was pyrokinetic, what would you do?” You asked your then-boyfriend. Your arms were wrapped around his waist, laying on your couch as a movie played on the television. He smiled at you, though the look in his eyes was just barely tolerating your question.

“I would ask you what pyrokinetic meant.” He said. You bit your lip, your hands shaking as you raised them to your face. With a snap of your fingers, your eyes turned red and a flame was lit on the tip of your thumb. His eyes went wide.

“What are you doing? How are you doing that?” He asked, panic clear in his voice. You burnt out the flame, your eyes turning back to their normal colour.

“I don’t really know yet, it kind of just happens when I want it to.” You said. The look of fear in his eyes quickly turned into one of understanding.

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4

You hesitantly unfolded your wings as you rose from the body of the demon. Its burnt-out eyes, along with those of the twenty-seven other bodies in the warehouse stared at you as you looked up towards the boys you had known for so long, who now had looks of varying emotions upon their faces at seeing your true self. Even though they couldn’t see your wings, you had them tucked behind your back in a nervous position.

You were half-tempted to fly off right then, but you couldn’t let go of the two boys you had grown to love. You had to find a way to win their trust back. You had to find out if they even had any trust left for you.

Nothing but silence followed as you shuffled in your spot, anxious.

“Say something,” you finally muttered.

“Say something,” Dean mocked. “Say what? What is there to say?”

“I don’t know- you just found out that I’m a freaking angel, you’ve got to have something to say.”

Dean took a step closer, a betrayed look in his eyes.

“Yeah, I do actually.” You cringed, knowing exactly what was coming. And you knew that you deserved every second of it.

“You lied to us. We trusted you to be who you said you were, what you said you were, and you lied to us, Y/N- if that’s even your real name.” He didn’t yell, he didn’t scream. He was calm. It was a dangerous calm. The type you had so long ago feared from your own brothers.

“I didn’t- I didn’t lie, you just never asked me what I was.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“We didn’t even know about angels at the time!” His voice got louder with every step he took, but you didn’t back away. Instead, you kept your head low, trying to hold back from interrupting him.

“How do we know you’re one of the good ones, huh?” Dean was almost directly in your face when he asked you this. “How do we know that you haven’t lied to us about everything you’ve ever told us?! Huh?!”

Your wingtips brushed the floor in a sign of sadness as you answered in a hushed voice.

“I’m not any different from the Y/N you met before, I’m still her. I’ve never changed-”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean interrupted sarcastically. His eyes narrowed as he circled you with an almost predatory look in his eye.

“We don’t even know what you look like-”

“That’s because I would burn your eyes out-” He kept talking while you tried to defend yourself.

“- and what about your vessel? What’s her name? Do you even care that you’re riding around in some innocent girl’s body-” You snapped.

“It’s not just some random girl’s body, Dean. I made this body for myself at the dawn of time so that- should something cause me to go to Earth- I wouldn’t have to possess someone.” Dean clenched his fists in anger, changing the topic.

“You could have saved me from Hell.” You swallowed your fear. You had always dreaded the day he would say that.

“I had no choice, I’m so, so sorry. I even went to my superiors and asked if I could and they said that they would kill Sam if I did.” Sam’s eyes widened at the realization, but he didn’t make any move to comment. Dean continued to circle you.

“And you could still be lying about that-”

“Dean, enough.” Sam spoke for the first time, and your gaze flew to meet his, but his eyes were avoiding your own. Your wings sank lower.

Out of the two boys, you would have thought he’d be the most accepting, and he couldn’t even look you in the eye. It crushed you to see it.

He was taking slow steps towards the two of you, and you had to hold back a scowl. You weren’t some easily-frightened animal, you were still the same person he had lived with and fought with and nearly died with for the past few years, and suddenly he was treating you like … like … like a stranger.

You were a stranger.

The realization hit you so hard you had to hold back a sob. A whole rush of emotions came crashing towards you as Sam continued to make his way towards you and Dean. He kept speaking, but you couldn’t hear him. Your gaze was blank, staring at the door of the warehouse.

I am a stranger.

I really am a stranger.

Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t hear or even notice as Sam and Dean argued over whether or not you could be trusted.

You didn’t hear Sam defend you, saying that you had never done anything to harm them.

You didn’t hear Dean say, again, that you could have saved him from Hell.

You didn’t hear anything. You didn’t hear the volume level rising, and you didn’t hear the punch as Dean knocked Sam out from sheer anger.

And then, you made what was perhaps your biggest mistake.

You didn’t hear the angel blade as Dean pulled it out of his jacket.

You only heard the scream - your own scream - as your life was snuffed out like the flame of a candle.

And when your wings burnt to ash upon the floor, Dean watched. He watched, and he cried.

Because you might not have saved his life, but he damn well could have saved yours.