#ask golden twitchy

[artyandink]

that’s my man (and my woman)

Summary: Your kids are curious little buggers. Asking questions about everything and anything under the sun. So there comes the complications of when your kids ask you if you’ve fallen in love before. How will you explain everything? Time to put your imagination to use.

A/N - I’ve been putting out a lot of sexy fics recently. Why not some fluff?

Song Inspo: Style - Taylor Swift and Perfect - Ed Sheeran

It took so long just to get two human beings to eat breakfast.

“Charlie, Sam, breakfast!” You called up the stairs, sighing after you did. Your hands were on your hips in true mom fashion, and disbelief and faux-regret was your adrenaline high this time as you wondered why exactly you had kids. That you loved to death despite their poor eating schedule. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

The thundering of little feet on the stairs told you that you had two incoming hurricanes.

Your seven year old boy, Sam, and your five year old girl, Charlie, appeared at the bottom of the stairs with broad smiles, crashing into you for a bear hug that knocked the wind out of your sails. You laughed as you hugged them back, giving a few pats of their head each. “Hey, there. Ready for breakfast?”

“Is there syrup?” Charlie asked eagerly, running and hopping into a high chair, grabbing her plate of pancakes and bringing it to her with a familiar lick of her lips and happy, twitchy grin. Sam had gotten his father’s hair, while Charlie had gotten yours. But the eyes were swapped around, and it was always a point of laughing. Not one child could be more like one or the other.

Arguably, both kids had their father’s dimples and smile. So yes, he could stake his claim.

“And whipped cream?” Sam added with a toothy grin.

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries?”

You shook your head with a chuckle; such chatterboxes. You opened the fridge and a cabinet, getting out the maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. “Not too much, ok?” You passed the toppings to them, and with a chorused ‘yes, mom’, they proceeded to completely disregard your orders. It made you shake your head again, huffing out a breath when all sense of scolding them disappeared once you saw the golden morning light hitting their little heads as they squealed and laughed.

Kids. You loved them to bits.

“Mom,” Charlie asked through a bite of pancake and whipped cream that smeared over her mouth, “have you ever loved someone before?”

The question startled you slightly, but you grabbed a kitchen towel, cleaning her lips with a soft smile as she shied away with a shriek of delight, little bunches waving about wildly. “Course I have, sweetie. But only once.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” She giggled, while Sam cringed a little, muttering a small ‘gross’ that got a sharp glare and pout from Charlie. Out of care for his little sister, he shut himself up.

You took a slow breath in to give yourself time to think, leaning on the counter and putting down the paper towel. “Well, it started a long time ago. When I was twenty six, all young.”

“That’s old.” Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. You scoffed lightly, because it damn wasn’t, but he was just a kid.

“Behave, Samuel.” You ruffled his hair with a laugh. “We met at my old job. 4th October, 2006. He had his brother with him. Now, I thought he was trouble. He had a leather jacket and one of those really fancy, loud cars and he was very popular with girls.” You reached out to tickle Charlie’s side, which had her squeaking. “But he was likeable, and charming, so I wanted to bump into him more often.”

“Was he cool?” Sam perked up, suddenly very interested. “He sounds cool.”

You pinched his chin affectionately. “The coolest. But our job was very tiring. We went through a lot of big stuff, like I told you in your bedtime stories. There would be vampires and werewolves and fairies of all kinds, but he and I would always save the day. And if we didn’t, we’d save the next day.”

“You saved the world!” Charlie exclaimed, making an aeroplane with a pancake bite on her fork. The action sent a flutter of warmth and love through your chest. For your family. Something you thought you’d never have.

You nodded, guiding the bite to her mouth gently before your hyperactive child sent the fork flying. “That’s right, gumdrop. We saved the world.” It was like telling a story, of you and your prince. “I couldn’t help but love him. He’d call me sweetheart and hold me tight. He’d look at me with a wide smile on his face, just for me. And he told me I was the one he was looking for.”

“That’s corny.” Sam piped up, but he also had a wide, goofy, dimpled grin on his face. He leaned forward. “So, where is he now? Did you two leave each other?”

“Well, he-” The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by soft padding steps and heavier ones not so far behind.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” A familiar voice called, the deep one which always had your stomach doing flips. That you heard murmuring sweet nothings in your ear every damn day. “C’mon Miracle, stay still- attaboy. Such a good boy.”

“That would be your father.” You sighed, not in a disappointed way, but a lovesick teenager way because hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ from your husband’s mouth never got old.

Your husband. Damn, you didn’t think you’d make it to that point. Not when Chuck was still a threat. Or even that rebar that Jack saved him from.

Your kids shrieked happily and practically flew off their high chairs, sprinting towards their dad, who was busy taking off his jacket in the hallway.

Dean Winchester. All 6’ 1” of flannel and denim, but this time with burden-free smiles and lit up looks.

When he saw his two munchkins, the jacket was off in a flash and he’d bent to one knee in order to absorb the impact of two koala hugs. “Aw, hey, squirt number one and two. Hope you didn’t give your mom much trouble.”

It felt so much better than the impact of a punch. Indescribably better.

“Dad!” The two giggled at the same time, accepting two kisses on the forehead each while being smothered by their dad’s strong arms. Warm and comforting and no longer instruments of destruction.

They’d always be somewhat like that, Dean thought in the back of his mind. The seed of doubt sowing in again.

Then Dean saw you in the hallway, and his brain forgot to work, doubts forgot to sow and crept into the dark corner it came from. You, his wife (he never got tired of the way that word rolled off his tongue), Mrs Winchester, standing there all pretty looking at him with those eyes of yours that always saw through his crap and often jackassery.

Dressed up in his undershirt, your sweats with the last few winks of sleep yet to go from your eyes, but still working yourself to the bone to make sure your kids had a good meal. A far cry of the days where he’d look up, see you covered in blood that wasn’t yours, adrenaline-pumped with that sexy fire in your eyes, machete in hand instead of that ring he bought around your finger.

He preferred this look on you. It meant you were safe.

Dean watched as you gave Miracle an idle scratch before ushering the kids into the kitchen, then walking up to him and wrapping those gorgeous arms around his neck, gorgeous eyes twinkling and your gorgeous lips stretched into a smile.

The whole nine yards, apple pie and picket fence of gorgeous and it was all his. All his personal heaven.

“Mrs Winchester.” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as his arms circled your waist, drawing you in and gripping your hips with both underlying possessiveness and a tender glow in those emerald eyes. Your soul soaring and low, warm vibrations in your body increasing until it was at the frequency of his. Syncing you both.

“Mr Winchester.” You giggled softly as you let your lips meet his once, pulling back. Then you couldn’t help yourself, letting them meet in holy matrimony again. And again. And again, over and over until you were both mentally and physically restraining yourselves due to your children being in the next room.

“We have to stop.” Dean chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair as the other inched down from its place on your hip, taking yet another hit of your honeyed lips.

“We do.” You whispered back, meeting his ministrations with the slow massage of your thumb against his scalp from where your fingers ran through his hair, your other hand on his chest.

Over his heart.

“Hard to when y’looking so pretty, darlin’, and you know it.” He huffed, nuzzling your nose before dipping to press a slow, hot kiss to your jugular. “Wearin’ my shirt too, hardens the bargain. And these sweats, god, you know what they do for your ass.” As if to punctuate his point (and sentence), he gave a quick, firm slap to it. “Ain’t makin’ it easy for me here, baby.”

“Dean!” You squeaked, giggling. “Our kids are in the kitchen.”

“Lil’ buggers. My sex drive’s arch nemesis.” He groaned against your neck, but listened anyway, taking his hand off your ass and cupping your cheeks, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, then hairline. “C’mon.” You two made your way to the kitchen, where Miracle then padded over, rearing on his hind legs to paw at Dean’s jeans for attention. He obliged, bending down to ruffle Miracle’s golden coat.

“Hey, boy.” He whispered, fingers doing good work to give Miracle the love he was whining for. “I love you a lot, ok? But I’ve got a wife, a very sweet, very sexy…” Dean gave you a once over with a lick of his lip and a quick bite of the bottom one, “wife. And I wanna get her in bed today, so don’t ruin this one for me. All respect given. Alright?”

A small whimper of affirmation.

“Attaboy.” Dean gave Miracle a quick scratch behind the ear before straightening up.

“C’mon, mom, tell us what happened to the cool guy!” Sam insisted, which had Dean raising an eyebrow at you in question. Cool guy? Who, what, when, where, how, why?

“Yeah, the one that stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes!” Charlie added, making a heart with her tiny hands.

Dean smirked, leaning against the counter by his hip. “Oh? Who stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes, honey? Do tell.”

“First of all, I did not say that.” You chuckled, raising a finger.

“You don’t have to. It’s all here.” Charlie pointed to her own eyes with an intense stare at her finger and a cute pout. It almost had you melting. “But tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, then took Dean’s hand and kissed the battle-scarred knuckle.

The gesture making Dean internally melt and externally making his eyes fill up with hearts and his lips twitch into a warm smile.

“I married him.” You said softly, your eyes mirroring the same look.

“Damn right.” He chuckled, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Free from the stress of an Apocalypse or a battle. That tasted like coffee and toothpaste rather than beer or whiskey and had no rush. His hand cradling your cheek while yours gently cupped the back of his head. Breathing in his body wash that wasn’t low grade anymore. You still had the unlimited credit cards, so you had more time for things like these. The little things.

You became absorbed in everything Dean, the kiss not as passionate as when he’d dipped you and took your breath away in front of a crowd of hunters on your wedding day but still had the same meaning. The whispers of the vows you two had choked out through tears. He became absorbed in you, in the sweet taste of a croissant on your tongue and your floral scent dizzying and overwhelming his senses in a good way. It was you he was feeling. It felt like you, so real, so safe. It felt like home.

“Ewwww!” You were interrupted by Sam and Charlie, and you broke apart, foreheads pressing together with a soft laugh coming from the both of you.

His hand on your waist, yours carding through his hair. Comfort, assurance, something you both had been deprived of for fifteen straight years. You wouldn’t let being Mrs Winchester go. Not now, not ever.

Mrs Winchester. Never got old.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

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[tippenfunkaport]

"Hold out your hand," she said, and he did because he always trusted her, even now when everything was unfamiliar and new. She tipped whatever was in her hand into his and pressed his fingers closed around it. "Can you feel it?"  He nodded. Something tingled against his palm, the warmth slightly twitchy, like a living thing. When he glanced down, he saw golden light spilling out from between his fingertips. "What is it?"  Glimmer fit her hand over his, the two of them holding the glow together. "Ask it to do something. Anything."

Gorgeous art by the amazing and talented @dalila-nonsense for the final chapter of Going There called...

✨Glow✨

Read on AO3

[softfem-dom]

just thinking about having to break a fight between the dog!hybrid outsiders and cat!hybrid bob.

It was late at night, the moon shining up in the sky. It was cold inside the house, but a hoodie or a sweater would keep the chill away from your boys' bodies. You were in the kitchen with Darry, putting out the groceries you had bought earlier and left forgotten inside the bags on the table. The big German Sephered was helping you stock the —four different types of— cereals boxes on the cabinets while you were simply hiding the just bought cans of beer behind the vedgetables inside the fridge so Bob or Dallas wouldn't take them.

It was calm, Two-Bit and Soda were watching the mickey mouse program on the TV. Ponyboy and Johnny were in your bedroom, just reading your books —and going through your drawers but what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you—. Darry was with you, Bob was sleeping like the lazy bitch he was and Dallas and Steve were arm wrestling on the coffee table.

Or so you thought.

While you were putting the bananas inside the fridge, Soda came in with that nervous twitchy smile of his that always signaled something was going or about to go wrong.

"Soda" Darry warned, slowly turning to look at his brother with a quirked eyebrow.

Soda just gulped nervously, almost comically adjusting the collar of his shirt as he mumbled something way too low and fast for you to hear. "what?" you asked, confusion on your features as you slowly closed the door of the fridge. Sensing you were about to have to intervene in something.

"Dallas and Steve are barking at Bob about the time when he almost drowned him on the fountain" the Golden Retriever all-but blurted out. Words and 's' slurred into one another.

"shit"

You were quickly walking over to the living room, opening the door with a rushed haste to your movements. You knew that Dallas was a damn Canary Mastiff, he was both a stray and a hunting dog. A hound dog. And he had the fangs and fists to prove it. You couldn't risk Dallas getting violent on Bob and potentially sending the —not so—poor Ragdoll cat to the hospital.

,,

You walked into both Dallas and Steve snarling at Bob, and the smug shit wasn't doing much to put the situation on his favour. Dallas had Bob pinned to the floor, his hands balled into fists over the cat's shoulders. Baring his teeth at him, while Steve was next to Dallas with his arms crossed.

"you know what dogs are?" Bob spat, a shit eating grin on his face. The little bitch was way too over confident on this.

Dallas growled, Steve's right eye twiching, while Bob laid on the ground with that smirk of his. —the one you sometimes got the urge to slap off of his face—.

"dirty mutts with behavioural issues"

You saw Dallas raising a fist, one that was going to end directly on Bob's face and probably break his nose, but you were faster. In the time the three of them were glaring at each other you had strided over, and had managed to get a grip under Bob's arms fast enough to pull him up from the ground and away from Dallas' fist —that ended up hitting the floor—.

"Doll—! what the fuck?" Dallas hissed, shaking his fist with a slight wince. Both angry and annoyed at you for letting his fist hit the floor.

"stop it, no cussing" you scolded with a frown at both Dallas and Steve, who was rolling his eyes at you, as you readjusted Bob in your arms.

The cat happyly, and smugly, curled up into your arms. His tail curled around your leg, wrapping around the skin of your thigh, as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "suck my dick" the cat smugly flashed a shit eating grin at both dogs. But you were quick to tug on his ear with a frown.

"that goes for you too, mr. I run my mouth way more than necessary" you scolded again, this time to the cat in your arms, who only huffed and rolled his eyes at Dallas' "hah! fuck you"

"you're both grounded."

"what!?!? but doll—!" "the fuck? I am the victim in this situation!"

[nomsfaultau]

pretty please make the philzas have a malewife competition à la the amazing world of gumball best mom competition /j

- ehe

ooooops got buried. For a quick synopsis for the fics I’m referencing- those are here

Malewife Philza Tournament Round 1–Cleaning

Poll below!

The Lambs Wolves Wear: Philza is cleaning like his life depends on it! (Because he thinks he’ll die if he loses the tournament). Doesn’t have much in the way of disinfectants between well water that “Tommy” dumped the bodies in and hand made soap (lavender scented!) but he has enough stress to make up for it!

Fault: This Philza has set the house on fire. With enough concentration, only the unwanted stuff will burn! It’s quick, it’s cheap, it’s incredibly thorough, and kills 100% of germs! Say good bye to dust and roaches, it’s incineration time! Just…don’t distract him while he’s cleaning. And…….maybe warn the fire department beforehand……..still, Fault Philza is determined to prove he’s the ideal Collector- uh, Malewife? Is that what kids are calling it this century?

Mandatory Family Reunion: are you…joking? This man hasn’t cleaned a day in his life, least of all a crime scene. He pays people to do that. The closest he gets is money laundering. It WILL be so spotless there aren’t fingerprints left, but Philza will be hiring people to do that for him. This is probably due to him misinterpreting when MFR Techno says he needs to clean up his act. Maybe if he wins this poll his prodigal son will come back..?

Worth far more than your weight in gold: He is. A bird. [Philza] is a literal bird. Okay a bird dragon griffon thingy but. A bird. He doesn’t understand what cleaning is. Did you mispronounce preening? He is very good at that!! [Philza] will put your head feathers all neat and in place. (…there are feathers absolutely coating the nest and random piles of gold. Very untidy bird.) But perhaps if he participates in this tournament he’ll understand how to take care of human-chicks better.

Golden Apples (Gilded Atrophy): He literally dipped for like ten years. You ask him to clean and he’ll laugh and then pop out to get cigarettes golden apples from the 7-11 cause it’s been a minute since his last one and he’s getting twitchy. and you won’t see him for six months. Literally last time he tried to clean up his son’s mess, Philza murdered him. And he sheds everywhere. Golden Apples Philza is praying his kids will let him back into their lives if he wins the malewife tournament.

Where do babies come from?: He’s not the most reliable cleaner, so he bought this cool roomba to take care of it for him! Tommy is the one who tapped the knife onto Stabby…or he suspects it’s Tommy. This Philza probably doesn’t dust as often as he should, buut he has things like a dishwasher and wet wipes, so he’s basically leagues above like half the other Phils. Babies Philza is trying to convince himself that impulsively adopting the three kids he found in his fridge is a good idea if he can prove he’s a good malewife, thus not needing a partner.

Lord, what fools these mortals be!: With a snap of his talons Philza can magic away all the mess! However, he is asking for your Name in return for this little favor. …no? What about an impossible feat, are you willing to do that? Uhh what about some riddles three, can you do some riddles three? Well. This is awkward. Lord! Philza is doing this because Lady Death insists on seeing him for the maid outfit round. And this man is stupid down for his wife, so, in a foolish mortal tournament he goes!

Lighting Lanterns to Bring You Home: What? No. Why would he? Clean it yourself, mate. You’re old enough to not need help with most of it. Lanterns Philza is rather done doing pointless crap for the gods after decades of preforming impossible feats for the sake of defying fate to get a family. He’s only here because he thought he was signing up for temple duties for Technoblade.

Which ever Philza wins the most tournaments will be crowned malewife supreme

[itsabouttimex2]

LSO AU sounds really interesting! Are we allowed to ask questions about AUs or does it count as a request?

Hi, thank you for asking! Questions are always allowed, even when requests are closed! I’ll elaborate on Let’s Start Over a little bit!

After his own journey ends and MK has his own story penned and published, peace settles across Megapolis and the world in general.

He’s even got himself a new title- “Monkie Knight”, after years of working for the king.

MK still steps in to ward off greater threats and more serious demons, but mostly steps back and attends to the noodle shop with Pigsy, who’s just about ready to pass the keys to his son and maybe take up a more casual lifestyle of teaching instead of serving. Maybe a YouTube channel where he teaches basic skills and recipes to viewers. Tang comes in to both expand on the history of what Pigsy is cooking and to taste test the end result. As expected, he adores the food each time.

Things are okay.

There’s trauma and bitterness that MK needs to work through, but… things are alright. With time, they’ll get better.

And then you come around to the shop one day to visit, right as the Ruyi Jingu Bang comes toppling down from where it’s been set- and you catch it.

So starts your journey.

Our golden-hearted hero is a little soured now, having been thrust into dangerous fights again and again. He’s somewhat resentful to certain individuals-

Mei, for not fighting beside him more often, in spite of her combat prowess and draconic powers. He gets a little twitchy when she’s around, thinking of all the fun she had off on her motorcycle, all the live-streams she giggled and joked her way through. MK doesn’t hate her. Not in a million years. Never. But damn if there’s not some bitterness. He’ll still ask her to ‘babysit’ you when he needs to go off and fight.

Though he still cares about Sandy as a friend, MK has shifted his perspective to disliking the river demon’s pacifistic outlook, viewing it as naive and somewhat selfish. He still goes over to paint and have tea, but things are somewhat strained between the two. It’s easy for someone like Sandy, a side-liner, to say “I’m not fighting anymore!” but MK never had that chance. Given that he was in his mid-teens during the start of his journey in this AU, the hero finds it messed up that he had to fight, but an honest to goodness ex-soldier chose not to. Again, no hatred. Things are just a little tense.

Macaque is pretty far down on his shitlist, actually. MK has taken some time to think on the simian’s actions and kinda wishes he had just let Wukong pummel him to death. Most of these feelings relate to their first meeting, but him assaulting Tang and attacking Mei certainly haven’t helped. Or his unnecessary destruction of the Dragon Palace of the East Sea. Or his refusal to apologize. Yeah, this guy doesn’t get to come anywhere near you. MK will act civil because he does believe in redemption and second chances, but dear lord is it hard.

(And he massively regrets the “you aren’t a bad guy” speech he gave to Macaque. Looking back on it, MK thinks he was naively seeing goodness where it didn’t exist.)

And of course, Sun Wukong, for… a lot of things. He talks rather bitterly of his mentor, viewing the Great Sage as irresponsible and rather immature. He wishes there had been more effort and care in the monkey’s teaching, and less “you can handle this”. There’s still some genuine respect and gratitude for the simian, but MK majorly fixates on being ‘different’ in his own mentorship. Problem is…

He’s choosing to be different instead of better.

Wukong had genuine and honest belief in MK, enough to let him handle trouble on his own. The Great Sage didn’t step in not out of laziness, but because he knew that the kid could handle things on his own. Sure, he was way too secretive and hands-off, but his intentions were only ever to help MK grow.

So when he decides to be entirely opposite to Wukong, our newly titled ‘Knight’ becomes a massive roadblock for you. Instead of cutting you loose with confidence, MK is stifling and protective. He’ll fight for you, cook for you, tend to your wounds, etc. Wukong tried to let MK grow without any form of safety net, but MK refuses to allow any growth without complete safety, which is rare.

Instead of being a mentor who’s trying to build you into the best you that you can be, he’s trying to be a father.

And honestly? Sometimes, he’s so good at the act that you wish it were real.

[greyskyflowers]

Bits and Pieces of fics I'll never finish:

Poly crew vibes for the win

ABO dynamics

~~

Zoro doesn't wear a collar. It's one of the first things people notice.

It's usually: swords, hair, and no collar.

They always think it gives them an edge, like Zoro isn't aware of the fact that he's not wearing one.

They holler and cackle, calling out the same jokes over and over.

"Does your pack know you're out all by yourself?"

"Who's your alpha, sweetheart? We'll give them a call to come get you."

"Looks like you're missing something, omega! Did you lose it or did you get it taken away?"

They laugh.

He doesn't.

They lose their heads.

He gets paid.

~~

He knows what he looks like, bound and collarless. Morgan knew exactly what he was doing when he had Zoro tied like this.

Anyone could bite him when he's this restrained and exposed. He's been severed on a golden platter to anyone with enough balls to try their hand at claiming him. He's ripped out throats for less and he's ready to bloody his mouth again if needed.

The strange alpha that comes out of the grate doesn't comment on the lack of collar, his gaze barely running over his throat before continuing to talk. He smiles and shows sharp teeth.

The alpha unties him and just disappears. It's... anticlimactic. He's so used to people wanting something, hinting at something more, that this is strange.

~~

The beta girl is untrusting. He feels her look at his neck and carefully catalogue it in her head as a weak spot if needed. He can't blame her. After all, he's doing the same thing

The little ship smells heavily of tangerines and ink, citrus scents are always a little overwhelming. There are unknown scents under her scent that are already fading away and he doesn't care to ask who they were.

Luffy's scent of cedar smoke and salt is powerful, and he scent marks everything almost absentmindedly. Dragging his hands over surfaces, rubbing his wrists on anything within reach, even pressing his cheeks against them quickly.

~~

They don't crowd Zoro, even though he knows they want to.

Omegas are comforting, they usually mean pack and safety. He doesn't know what they think when they look at him but no one has ever looked at him and thought safe.

~~

A lot of people are uneducated. They assume omegas aren't often at sea because they're too soft, too delicate.

Pirates though, especially the good ones, know what omegas really are. Vicious, protective, and a nasty opponent in a fight.

The older generations know it, and when he eventually interacts with Garp, he'll be pleased that the old man seems begrudgingly impressed that Luffy had roped Zoro into his crew.

Pirates in the grandline and beyond will know. Omegas aren't often at sea because they're protecting what's theirs, usually a home or a pack.

If you can get a omega to call your ship home, you'll have some of the fiercest protection available.

First mates are ideally omegas. They're well loved by the crew/pack and amazing fighters. They're usually content to follow those they trust but like to do their own thing enough that being firstmate allows them the freedom they need.

~~

The clown separates them and hands Nami and Zoro off to be kept in their restraints. They're left with a alpha who keeps talking about revenge or something else annoying, getting close like he wants Zoro to think he'll bite before pulling back. He doesn't react and the alpha's scent burns with anger before he spins the wheel Zoro's on and starts trying to scare him.

The smell of his anger mixes with annoyance quickly. Every thud of the blade into the wood is meet without a flinch and the alpha gets more and more riled up. Zoro doesn't really care. Even if some of the blades hit they wouldn't cause irreparable damage. A inconvenience at best, especially if Luffy needs them to fight.

~~

They pick up another beta, twitchy and ballsy with how he goes to mention Zoro's lack of collar a few times, each time getting hard looks from Nami and Luffy to stop.

The butler turns his nose up at them and he feels painfully out of place. Everything around him is nice and expensive, he's like a street cat let in on accident.

It smells sterile in the whole manor, he keeps rubbing at his nose and sneezing. There's something in the air that he can't name exactly but it has him on edge.

Usopp is talking about the girl, Kayla or Kay or something like that. He looks at Zoro like he can help with whatever relationship he has with her but he can't. He doesn't even know what the girl is, the smell of sickness and that ever clinging sterile smell surrounding her. He assumed she must be an omega since Usopp was asking him but he's not the person to ask about this stuff.

~~

When he wakes up in the well he knows they pawed at him. There are many people who would take advantage of a unconscious and unmated onega. A chance to see him up close like he's something exotic.

His neck feels wrong, like thin threads or spiderwebs are very lightly touching the skin. The disgusting scent of the maid and chef stick to him and he even rubs his neck against some of the rocks to get it off.

~~

The waiter looks appalled when he looks at Zoro, eyes clearly aimed at his bare throat. He moves like he's going to say something about it before his eyes catch on Nami and he's completely focused on her. She catches his eye and he knows she's putting up with the waiter so Zoro won't have to.

~~

Mihawk cuts him open and calls him magnificent. It has his instincts demanding he roll belly up and purr.

~~

The stench of infection, sickness and fish are overwhelming when he wakes up. Everything hurts and his head has the cotton feeling of too much sleep. Luffy is on him and around him, talking too fast for Zoro to catch most of it but he gets the tone.

He wakes up with the feeling of someone touching him again but it's different than the well. It's not as bad when it's Luffy.

~~

Arlong's crew says omega like it's his name. They chatter at him and wait patiently for a opening to sink teeth or claw into his unprotected neck.

The clown howls with laughter from the bag at the waiters hip.

"Better teach them what omegas are really like, kiddo!"

He despises that the fucking clown has more respect for omegas than most people.

~~

The waiter, Sanji, isn't too bad once he settles in. He still seems stuck on Zoro's lack of collar but he never says anything. One of the others must have spoken to him about it.

They bicker and fight but it's never because of a comment towards Zoro being a omega. He hides a grins everytime they fight, pleased that his crew respects him enough to honor his desire to not talk about it.

~~

He tells them he thought Kuina may have claim him if they had more time together, if they'd got the chance to grow up together.

He talks about the way they were always paying attention to each other, trading harsh blows and barely there touches. She called him pretty and constantly knocked him on his knees, he was furious that it made him blush at the time.

Then she died. And it felt like the only claim he could ever get from her was Wado Ichimonji.

In a strange way, the sword is like a collar. She's still with him, telling him to draw his sword to defend himself and sitting blinding white at his side like a claim. The sword deters unwanted attention the same as a collar would.

~~

They remember the name of the sword now, make a point to say it's name and be respectful of it. He refuses to acknowledge that Kuina would be charmed by it, that she'd probably really like them all.

He also ignores the voice in his head that quietly asks if this could be the start of a pack and a home.

~~

It takes a while to notice but he's been scenting the ship. The delicate skin of his wrists red and raw before fading into a thicker layer of skin.

His scent is saturated into the ship and the crew. The start of a claim is clear.

They haven't said anything and he isn't going to be the one to bring it up.

~~

His heat is... mildly concerning. He knows Luffy doesn't expect anything from him and the rest of the crew is on the same page, but he can't help the little curl of worry in his belly.

What if something happens? What if they haven't been around a omega in heat before and get grossed out? What if they never think of him the same?

Sanji is a anxious and furious presence that lingers. He does everything he can to get Zoro to eat. Healthy snacks, fruits and vegetables, a extra serving of meat, protein drinks, etc.

He looks pleased everytime Zoro eats something and his scent goes happy. Luffy huffs a bit at the extra meat Zoro gets but someone must have explained it to him because while he still pouts, he doesn't try to steal it from Zoro anymore.

~~

He gets lathargic, finding more and more creative places to sleep.

The third time Usopp almost has a heart attack from unexpectedly coming across him, they decide to encourage him to nest in his room.

He doesn't know what to do with all the stuff given to him. It's soft in his hands, his rough skin catching on all the fine fabrics. His nests are usually small and made of whatever was available, often just a spare shirt and a few towels. These are actual nest supplies though. Pillows, blankets, cushions, etc.

Of course the ship was fancy enough to have these hidden away.

He just stares at them for awhile before he gets restlessness. Starting to arrange and sort them. He's got a nest by the end of it, the best one he's ever had. He strips and sprawls belly down in it, a few of the blankets tugged over him.

He purrs and shoves his face into the pillow under him, it smells like dust with faint hints of the crew.

~~

They haven't discussed anything, there's no bonds or claims that hold them responsible for helping him during his heat. There's no bond or claim that says he owes them anything.

It's hard for people to be around a omega in heat and not want to be close though. His scent is warm like a candle, meant to coax pack close for comfort and protection while he's unable to defend himself.

His heats aren't like normal heats. There's usually no sexual component to it. He's had too much damage and scarring to his body, injuries to critical points like his scent glands and lower belly.

His heat is usually miserable. The increased hormones and stress on his body makes everything ache. All the old injuries and broken bones that healed wrong flaring to life. He usually spends the days curled up and forcing all the whines that want to slip out down into his chest. Waking up at the end of the cycles dehydrated, starving and exhausted.

~~

He can hear them hovering outside the door. Hushed whispers and and footsteps that are meant to be quiet enough he can't hear them. It grates on his nerves and he tells himself that's why he forces himself up, wraps one of the stupidly soft blankets around him and goes to the door.

He yanks it open and they all freeze. The smell smacks him in the face and his instincts purr pack. He doesn't say anything, just turns and goes back to his nest. Burrowing back under everything and taking the opportunity to enjoy the fact that he didn't feel absolutely miserable yet.

~~

He sleeps here and there, listening to the other slowly drift closer and get more comfortable. He actually feels good.

He's more comfortable than he thinks he's ever been. Body practically boneless and a purr in his chest that he's just managing to hold back.

His scent glands don't burn, his body doesn't ache, his head isn't spinning.

It's because he has people with him. He knows, okay?

Not only do they insist on making sure that he's drinking and eating enough, the scents and comfort go a long way.

There's a reason omega seek out packs.

They stay outside the nest, respectful in a way that annoys him at the moment because he wouldn't mind them being closer and asking seems... very intimate.

Luffy watches him like a hawk the whole time, eyeing him carefully whenever he moves and new skin shows, like he's trying to make sure there's nothing physically wrong. He's restless, not sure what to do and how to make it better.

~~

He ends up dragging Luffy in first. Snagging a wrist and huffing angrily when the arm stretches instead of dragging Luffy closer.

Eventually he gets the alpha in. He can't help the purr he lets out when Luffy is under all the blankets with him. He's warm and Zoro isn't even embarrassed that he's completely bare when he presses closer.

It's dark and almost stifling with how much body heat Zoro's giving off. The air smells like them and he thought he was already relaxed but he's boneless now.

Luffy doesn't seem to know what to do. His hand hover over his hips and his waist before he seems to decide he can touch.

He's instinctively positions himself between Zoro and the door. The others are also between the nest and the door.

Luffy smells like fresh cut cedar burning and salt. It's sinking onto Zoro's skin and his lower belly is warm. He can't get close enough.

Nami's citrus and ink, Usopp's fresh earth and herbs, Sanji's palo santo and spices all cling to him and the nest.

His own scent, of cold steel, summer rain and tart blackberries isn't very typical of a omega but it doesn't seem to bother them. They're all taking it in like they can taste it if they try hard enough.

~~

The others end up joining him and Luffy, dragged in one after the other. The nest is big enough for all of them, which means he was planning on them joining him even if he wasn't fully aware he was.

He feels good.

He's given up trying to stop the purr and it rumbles from his chest. He's never had a heat like this and he understands the appeal if this is what it's like with pack. It's like a pleasant high, he's sleepy and very happy.

Luffy doesn't want to leave so they shuffle between Nami, Sanji and Usopp on watch. It's hard with only 3 of them but they can leave easier than Luffy, who seems to permanently be attached to Zoro.

He's touching Zoro constantly. Petting at bare skin or face buried is the omega's neck. He nips a nasty bruise on his throat but Zoro doesn't stop him. He'll worry about it later.

~~

He ends up in Luffy's lap towards the end, chests against each other, Zoro's legs around Luffy's waist and his chin on the alpha's shoulder.

Luffy has possessive arms around around him, face tucked into the side of Zoro's neck and legs crossed to support the omega.

He should have know, there's a reason captains have a reputation for being notoriously protective and territorial.

He blinks at the others sleepily when they come in, making a little noise from the back of his throat that has Luffy's shoulders dropping from where they'd slowly been raising.

Nami steals the tray Sanji had been holding, who looks like he may take it back before he seems to realize it was Nami.

Luffy back is to her and Zoro's watching her, chin still digging into Luffy's shoulder.

The kiwi is sticky in her fingers and it runs juice down her hand and wrists but Zoro perks up a bit when he sees it, the hunger and thirst of a ending heat taking over.

He doesn't hesitate taking it from her fingers, swiping his tongue to grab the juice left on her fingers before pulling away and chewing. His lips are shiney and his scent is warming at being surrounded by pack and alpha.

Usopp steals the next piece of fruit to give, and then Sanji. They keep that rotation until Zoro's falling asleep again and turning his head away from them.

The room smells like pleased omega.

~~

The nest stays, even after the heat is over. They don't talk about it because it's still a little raw. There's a lot of unknown.

The start of a pack bond has been strongly established though, centered around Zoro and waiting quietly for the next step.

[wifetomegatron]

I’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not so feel free to delete but if you are how about some firsts! First date with First Aid in the First Contact!AU?

thank you for requesting anon <3 i hope you enjoy this !

a night full of firsts : what a first date with first aid would be like (sfw!)

i) you weren't his first date ( he had dated a couple of times back in medical school, but that had been ages ago ), but you were his first date on earth. first aid had idled outside the door of the restaurant for about ten minutes, constantly re-checking the screen of his mobile phone — which, in his opinion, was ridiculous to carry around — to double and triple check your picture. he was fidgeting, servos twitchy as he entered the place. the funny bit was you had witnessed the whole thing, the wide, clear window giving you a full view of first aid desperately trying to soothe his nerves ( you tell him this months after and he nearly breaks apart from shame. )

ii) first contact had been established for nearly a decade now, and humans were surprisingly quick to assimilate. if anything, none of the patrons bat an eye at his presence — red and white metal, shining under the golden glow of the lights. there were only five other bots inside the place, including him. and when he was the only one obviously on a date, first aid felt singled out if not scrutinized. with a more integral involvement in the council of worlds, the people of this little green planet had opened themselves slowly to the idea of 'interspecies relationships.' it was only a matter of time before someone created a dating app specialized for that. ( the secondhand embarrassment in asking velocity to help him create his profile pales in comparison to the shame he felt when he saw so many of his friends there.) less than a week of being on there scrolling, the two of you had matched. and the sweet little messages had boiled down to this very moment: you sitting across him, cheeks dusted pink. he averted his optics, suddenly feeling shy for the first time in a long time.

iii) the first hour went smoothly, with a few bumps along the way such as the occasional slip-ups and misunderstanding — you had accidentally asked him if he thinks the carbonara is better than the aglio e olio while he had slipped and accidentally called your eyes 'fascinating' instead of 'beautiful'. those he could laugh off.

until you had wondered aloud at how interesting it was that humans and cybertronians were so similar. and off-handedly, out of instinct, the medic had responded with : more than you think.

you had a playful glint in your eyes when you responded, lifting the wine glass to your lips, ' is that a promise?'

at the innuendo, his already nervous knee had jerked upwards and bumped the underside of the table, knocking the glass of water all over the surface. he immediately stood up, reaching to undo the damage by plucking the glass, only to have one of the table cloths snag in the seam of his knee. in an instant, the plates and cutlery had toppled over, loudly crashing onto the floor. but he didn't even have the time to react, the candle — which in his opinion was an evil, dangerous, thing to have on a dinner table and nowhere romantic — had set several of the napkins on fire. a dozen frightened patrons and one, messy fire extinguisher later, first aid had yanked you out of your seat and away from the chaos. this was the first time, first aid wished — what was the human saying ? for the earth to swallow him up? judging from how your clothes were most likely irreversibly damaged by the wine and pasta, disappearing was the best option.

iv) he knows ratchet was trying not to laugh at the story, failing miserably the moment he excused himself out of the room to ( not so discreetly ) tell his conjunx about the incident. velocity gave him a pitying smile, even if she was hiding her amusement. he told her that he was never going to see you again — that he ruined a beautiful night with a beautiful person over a stupid accident. considering that he was flustered enough to disappear without a word. until you had showed up by the receptionist's desk, worried hands wrung together as you asked one of the nurses for him.

at the sight of him, your eyes lit up. this was the first time first aid found himself at a loss for words, spark racing as you explained to him how you were more worried about how he had deleted the app the morning after and left without a word. determined not to get ghosted by someone who clearly enjoyed the night, you had tracked him down to ask him for another date.

' this time,' you had cleared your throat, ' i can prepare us dinner back at mines and actually make sure there'll be no candles around. if you'd want, that is ?'

he was glad he had his mouth guard up because he could feel himself grinning, velocity in the back already calling swerve to break to him the news.

'yes,' first aid answered, ' i'd like that.'

[florsial]

Hi!!! What r ur thoughts on Snape???🙏

Hiii :D oh this will be fun!

I don't mind him actually! I think he's ONE of the most interesting characters in Harry Potter (Golden Era and during the 70s). I like him much more as a teenager, being a snarky and awkward kid navigating his social surroundings. I'm more sympathetic to him as a teenager (+During First Wizarding War) but I'm a little on the fence when he's a teacher (how he treated Neville and Hermione). I can understand why people dislike him for being a bad teacher.

I will be honest, I definitely think Snape is a HIGHLIGHT example of the Fandom's hypocrisy. There is a constant demand for morally grey characters in the fandom and yet when they are presented with a CANON morally grey character, they cower basically (and I mean this with Dumbledore too!).

I also do think he is demonized a lot, especially his friendship with Lily because it's the fandom's way of making up for the lack of women in every way shape, or form. Everyone is very careful about Lily (Jegulus shippers) and they fear portraying her in any negative manner because they think if they do they will get called misogynistic. So they put everything onto Snape.

If you ask me, his friendship with Lily is very complicated and I don't think either had a mass blame on the falling out. Snape thinks she was choosing his bullies over him and Lily thinks that Snape didn't think of her very highly, which makes it worse by the fact that she was muggleborn. I don't blame Snape for never getting over his hate of James, what the Marauders did to/allowed what happened to him was fucked up.

I was constantly picked on/made uncomfortable/chased around the school by a boy years ago and the adults didn't really hear me out, to this day I still feel uncomfortable. And it's been like what 7 years or so? Shit sticks and it is obvious nothing was done about it.

However, it is wrong of Severus to take it out on Harry! That I won't deny. Like I said before, I don't blame people for not liking him as an adult. It's just when they condemn a teenager for this?? Ehhhhh...

He as a character is interesting. I see him as a very "child imagination" character, going from an abused and forgotten (using that word loosely) kid to a war hero basically. It's almost like it's what everyone imagined as a kid. I think he definitely fantasized about something like that as a child. Being an abused boy and wanting out. And thinking back on it when he was dying.

When he was starting Hogwarts, I hc that he was very fidgety. Skining-picking habit, twitchy, not staying still, picking at his lip, and was physically all over the place. His friendship with Lucius can actually be pretty sweet. Severus cools out the longer he goes to Hogwarts.

[bts-hyperfixation]

How do you think BTS members will react if another member says crush's name while sleeping 👀?

I didn't give them specific members or anything and I do think certain members might react differently to one or two members

Please send me asks to keep me motivated while I’m off work! Thirsty thoughts, Most likely to, reactions, life updates, and general gibberish welcomed!!

Namjoon:

Namjoon gets really on edge when someone else mumbles the name of his crush in their sleep. He pauses what he is doing and listens out for anything else they say. He tries to convince himself that he is being ridiculous and goes back to what he is doing but Every time they move his ears perk up like a golden retriever listening for the mailman. He watches them like a hawk around his crush for the following week and becomes a little twitchy about it. Eventually he either gets approached by that member about being weird or he hears them whisper someone else's name and goes back to normal.

Seokjin: 

He throws a pillow at them and then runs out of the room before they see who threw it, conveniently he walks back in a few moments later and just says "Bad dream?"

Yoongi:

He probably skirts around the members the next day, bringing up small talk and trying to edge them into talking about his crush. He is trying to be subtle but most of the members know what he is doing and enjoy watching him squirm trying to get the topic to fall in the direction he wants. No one has a crush on his crush, and he is not as subtle as he thinks about the fact that he has said crush so they all know who his crush is. They put him out of his misery after a couple of days. 

Hoseok:

Probably doesn't care. Actively makes fun of the member for talking in their sleep and enjoys the blush that covers their cheeks when he teases them about a crush they don't have.

Jimin:

Gets a little self-conscious about it. Doesn't want to compete with one of his friends. He overthinks and blows the whole thing out of proportion until he is all twitchy and fidgety around the member in question. He spends a lot of time trying to refocus his attention from the crush onto someone or something else so he spends a lot of long hours in the dance studio. Namjoon or Yoongi eventually talk to him and tell him to knock it off and if it wasn't one of them he encourages them to talk to the other member.

Taehyung:

Shrugs it off and goes back to what he is doing. He might bring it up at a random point in time but in all likelihood he has probably completely forgotten about it by the time the morning comes around.

Jungkook:

Wakes the member up immediately and confronts them about it, whines probably. Complains that he had the crush first. The member is still mostly asleep and very confused, they don't even remember having a dream about the crush let alone saying their name.

[sea-owl]

Ok more on the Cook and the Demon.

After such a lovely picnic Colin drags escorts Penelope back to his home. If Penelope was asked to describe the lands of the Lord of Wrath in one word it would be energetic. There was this low buzzing feeling she has had ever since she stepped over the border. It was under her skin and made her twitchy, wanting to get this energy out.

Colin for his part was twirling the knife Penelope stabbed him with. Smiling at it, probably planning on how he was going to stab Penelope herself with it. Penelope felt her eye twitch,. Maybe she should take one of her other knives and stab his other side with it.

Penelope's thoughts halted when she felt something smooth slither up her leg. It moved higher and higher, circling her leg the more it moved up. She couldn't see it with her skirts covering it. The red head let out a shriek as she kicked her leg out over and over. Whatever was on it just tightened it's hold.

Colin grabbed a hold of Penelope's wrists. She used his grip to fling her legs upwards.

"No! Let me go!" Penelope demanded. She didn't know if she was talking to the demon or whatever was around her leg. Maybe it was both.

"Will you calm do-! Fuck!"

"Ahhh!" Penelope let out another shriek as she fell forward. For the second time today her skirts have been greened by the grass as she laid underneath her demon lord.

Colin had used his own limbs to pin her's. Despite her struggles Penelope could only shiver as she felt that slithering thing move higher above her waist and making itself comfortable wrapping itself around her chest. A head popped out from underneath her neckline. It was a snake, iridescent red in color with green eyes similar to the demon above her.

"This is Hekate," Colin introduced the snake. "She will be your companion so long as you are in my services."

Penelope could only nod as she felt Hekate slide just enough out of her bodice to lay herself across Penelope's neck. Her head nuzzling against Penelope's clavicle bone.

Colin got off while Penelope looked down at her new nanny and their shared master's spy. She really couldn't think of any other reason for Hekate and she had to admit it was smart, someone had to make sure Penelope didn't do something to the demon's food.

"Hello Hekate," Penelope whispered as she held her hand close to the snake. She tried not to shiver again when Hekate's tongue flicked across her skin. It was wet, but also felt so light. Hopefully after this Penelope can just sleep or at least have nothing else surprise her today.

Without another incident they made it to the home of Lord Wrath. Any hopes of no more surprises for were dashed when they found a golden woman in the sitting room. If Penelope had to guess by her chestnut hair and similar features to Lord Wrath she was another one of the sins. Which one though? Vanity? Pride? Either way Penelope should be poliet.

Penelope lowered herself into a curtsey.

"Oh Colin she is so polite!" The golden lady gushed. "And so adorable! Let me have her! I can pay her more!"

Hekate tightened herself on Penelope, and Colin rolled her eyes. "Go find your own mortal Daphne, this one is mine."

Daphne, as the golden lady has been named, waved Colin off. "I'm Daphne, Lady of Greed. Oh you have to cook us something! I must try your food!"

Penelope bowed her head. Cooking, she can do cooking. Cooking is safe and easy. "Of course my lady. Any special requests?"

"Awww so cute!" Daphne gushed again. "Suprise me darling."

"Of course my lady," Penelope said.

"Hekate will direct you," Colin said as he waved her off.

Penelope bowed to both sins and made her to the kitchen under Hekate's tugging this way and that.

"So Colin," Daphne said as soon as the mortal was out of ear shot. "Why is Hekate, the snake connected to your emotions, doing wrapped around the girl?"

Colin held up the still bloodied knife Penelope had stabbed him with earlier. "Well it was only fair. I mean she did start the courtship."

Daphne gasped. "How?! I've been trying to get a mortal to start a courtship for three decades now!"

[oumaheroes]

I'm so sorry if I'm bothering, but reading "The Captain" has seriously floored, contaminated and infected me and I'm making a playlist inspired by it - But I was wondering if you had thoughts on Alfred and his people in that context? Because I... Like cowboy Alfred and I can't emphasize enough how many stories would emerge from Alfred losing a dual, lying dead on the ground, just to be gone by dawn and seen again in the next town over on death row to be hanged, just to be seen alive again some time later?

Like, it gives campfire stories and western-tales! 🥹

The Cowboy

Characters: America

The Captain (England)

The Artist (France)

The Cleaner (Scotland)

--------

Some say there are monsters out on the plains.

Unholy things. Dangerous things. Things that no man should see, and that would drive him mad if he ever did.

The cowboy does not believe all this. He believes in truth, cold and bitter. Life is hard out here, that is true, and sometimes a hard life does things to a man. Turns him inside out with wanting and regret. Makes him yowl for his momma at night like a child from loneliness. Cold nights, bitter winds, and dust choked skies- miles and miles with nothing but the hot sun and ghosts of old lives nipping at your heels.

Because to choose a life on the plains alone is to have come from something. To go far into the desert and stay there means that there is sanctuary in the sands that cannot be found in a town, or a village. And that life changes those who live it. Makes them see their fears manifested in order to understand them. Forces them to acknowledge their wrongs and mistakes by trapping them alone.

The cowboy is no different. He’s seen many things he wishes he hadn’t. Has done many more besides.

There’d been a boy. Many summers ago.

Bright blue eyes, golden hair. Rough broad hands of a working man, but the expensive clothes of a comfortable one. He’d rolled into town with fear behind his wide smile; twitchy fingers and a need for work with no questions asked. He’d been running from things, that was clear, and the cows don’t ask no questions. Nor do cowboys in need of able hands.

He’d been good. Been quick. Great with horses, could calm even the most spooked or rowdy with just a touch. A real gift for them, and a real love for the plains. He grew tall under the wide blue skies, expanded his chest outwards as he rode in a way that made you look at him. Talked much, talked often, but without saying anything at all.

When he’d died, the cowboy didn’t know who to send for. The boy had never mentioned his father, hadn’t spoken of his momma, not even in passing. No family and not even a family name to claim him. He’d had to leave him out there to the sun, nothing but a bright red blanket over his face to offer him shade and the cowboy’s own rings on his eyes to pay for something he didn’t quite understand. It had felt right. It had felt inadequate.

He’d been too young.

The memory of the boy haunts him. The cowboy sees their final ride in his dreams, sees the herd change direction and sees the boy react too late. Sees him realise across the cattle that he was pinned- rock of the canyon on one side, and the stampede the other. He caught the cowboy’s eye and that, that moment of knowing, seared something into him that the cowboy knows he will never forget.

Over the thunder of a thousand hooves, the boy’s scream is an unanswerable battle cry he still wakes to, even now.

The cowboy keeps moving. The herds do not stop. Rides must be finished. Life goes on.

He goes it alone. Wrings out his soul in the dust, lets it boil over with regret. Then he gets another partner. Then another. The cowboy is older, too old these days to head on out to watch the cattle without someone he trusts at his back. The world is changing around them but this life does not change, does not grow easier. Only harder, as his bones begin to hurt and his eyes can no longer spot unfriendly shapes moving in the shadows.

One night and a shared fire like any other- three men and a dog in the middle of nowhere- the cowboy looks up to see a face he knows all too well. It has been years, decades, but the boy’s face is unchanged. Still milk smooth, still full and whole.

He has a chain around his neck that glitters in the firelight. Thin gold links that hold up familiar rings, unused payment for a journey not taken. He catches the cowboy’s eye over a whisper of long ago screams and nods.

There are monsters out on the plains.

Things that creep around campsites, things that stir in the night. Things that wear the faces of long dead men, that put on old skin like clothes and come to sit quietly by your side.

The cowboy cannot look at him. He hears him breathing as the men around them talk, feels the warmth of the boy’s arm through this jacket.

‘Well met,’ the cowboy manages, and offers his old friend his flask to drink from.

The boy does not take it. He looks up at the stars, bright and endless above them, and holds the cowboy’s rings in one hand.

‘Strange, isn’t it?’ he says softly, ‘What things we can sometimes think we see.’

The cowboy’s heartbeat beats loud in his ears, ‘Too much sun does things to a man.’

‘It does.’ The boy turns and looks back. His eyes are old, hard things, ‘I’ve heard people tell all sorts of tales. Drunken ghost stories no sane man would believe.’

The cowboy’s gut screams a warning, that he is but prey in front of predator. He knows to listen, has enough sense not to question, ‘I’m too sane to believe most things.’

He meets the boy’s eye and does not look away. The fire before them cracks, and the boy breathes. There is no other sound. Then, he smiles, teeth emerging white and gleaming. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Maybe, it never did.

‘Well met, friend.’ the boys says. He claps the cowboy’s shoulder and settles back. The cowboy’s chest feels lighter, ‘I think we’ll get along just fine.’

I couldn't help myself Sunny, I was instantly inspired and it's all your fault

---------

AN

As it was written so quickly this may well change, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone and I had to get it out there

If this story is to have a song, it's 'Ghost Rider's' by Johnny Cash which is, and always will be, an utter banger.

[californiaboytoybilly]

Eye Candy pt 2

My apologies that this took so long. I’ve been having a hectic few weeks. Part three will come faster!

Steve had no idea how to feel the moment his eyes locked on the man who’d spoken.

On one hand, he felt distinctly caught. Something like embarrassment crawled up the back of his neck, hot and twitchy, motivating his feet to take off in a run. Robin would probably kill him if he did, however.

But he was also warm for an entirely different reason.

Because holy fuck, this just might be the single most attractive man he’d ever seen and every single one of his nerves was firing sporadically.

They were about the same height, but that’s where the similarities ended. The man had soft looking blond curls pulled back from the sides of his face with sleek silver clips. A single, perfect ringlet dangled over his forehead artfully.

His eyes- a startling blue even in the dim light- were rimmed with smoked out eyeliner, sparkling with amusement as Steve’s silence stretched on. Golden skin was showcased by a silky ruby toned shirt only half done up, tucked into a leather corset style belt with hand etched designs so intricate Steve would bet it cost more than two months of his rent.

“I… I uh-“ Steve stuttered over his attempt to answer, cheeks flooding red. The pretty man ran his tongue over a pointed canine as he waited.

“We must’ve gotten the wrong address.” Robin interrupted when she realized Steve’s brain was fully broken.

More of those pearly teeth flashed at them with the answer. “Ah, of course.” He didn’t believe them at all, the dimple in his cheek twitching with the effort not to laugh. Robin grabbed Steve by the wrist, yanking him towards her and the door none too subtly.

“Sorry, we’ll be- uh, on our way!” She gave the guy a tight smile, tugging at Steve again. Giving in, the brunette man started to follow her towards the door, only to be stopped by a larger hand clasping around his opposite wrist.

Steve’s eyes shot up and back to lock with an intense blue gaze. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Come in, I promise I don’t bite.”

*Unless you ask nicely*, Steve could’ve sworn he heard exhaled afterwards.

He should’ve said no, apologized and left probably. They didn’t know this guy and this had already been an embarrassing start. But Steve really was a sucker for pretty boys.

“Uh-uhm, yeah. Okay. Why not?” His voice was a little strained and he tried to ignore the stunned look Robin shot him. He was gonna get an earful for this later, that was clear.

“Perfect…” The man smiled more genuinely, letting go of his wrist. Steve tried not to mourn the loss. “You can call me Billy, by the way.”

Billy. Steve rolled the name around in his mouth and decided he liked it. He would’ve expected the fallen angel currently guiding them through the other guests to have a name as elegant as his clothes but for some reason the commonality of it almost stood out more.

It suited him.

“Steve. And that is Robin.” He replied with a tongue that felt too big for his mouth, trying not to drool. The entire back of Billy’s shirt was taken up by a sheer panel that showed each fluid shift of his back muscles as he walked.

Steve wanted to bite them.

He was shaken out of his trance when they arrived to a smaller living room than the one at the front, where only a small handful of guests lingered. Five or six people besides them, max. A guard stood at the entrance, but paid Steve and Robin no mind as they trailed in at Billy’s heels.

He led them to a couch, where only one other person was sitting. A lithe, wisp of a girl in a lilac satin cocktail dress, a silver chain belt draped over her hips and wild brown curls she’d hauled up into a bun. She was almost as captivating as the blond, with pointed, lovely features that reminded him of a little of the elves in Dustin’s movies.

Her eyes brightened as they landed on Billy, then turned sly as she moved to their guests. “Ooh, where’d you find these ones?” She all but purred, getting to her feet with feline grace. Steve didn’t have to feel guilty about his mind’s preoccupation with Billy, though.

Most of her attention seemed locked on Robin, who was currently wide eyed like a deer in traffic.

“They ah… got a little lost. Figured I’d be a good host and let them stay.” Billy sounded amused repeating their bad excuse, which made Steve bite down a little harder on his lip.

“I’m not complaining. Have a seat.” She said, taking a step back and lowering herself onto the black couch once again. “Heather.” She held out a hand towards Robin, who took it expecting a shake.

“Nice to meet you. I’m um- uh…“ Steve almost wanted to laugh at how flustered the girl was, but he was self aware he’d been even worse than her before. He wasn’t going to invite her to call him out.

“Robin?” She finally managed, though it sounded a little like a question. Heather let out a pleasant peal of soft laughter. “You’re an awfully cute one.” She said like a fact, Robin’s freckles officially vanishing as her blush darkened impossibly more.

Oh god, what had they gotten themselves into?

[aintgonnatakethis]

Fun Line Tag Game

Thank you @lancedoncrimsonwings for tagging me!

Rules: Post a line that you're tremendously pleased by and a line that’s just out-of-context ridiculous

I'm taking massive creative licence with what the word 'line' means, but cut me a break 😂 Both these excerpts are from the untitled 450k SGU story I was working on during lockdown and have recently been rereading, setting aside bits that I like and think I can use in other stories.

Pleased by - Telford is the one to recruit Rush, Rush bonds in strange ways:

"Do you have any--" He paused to inhale more smoke because he was still feeling twitchy and he needed to focus. "Good stories?" "About aliens I've killed," Telford replied casually. It wasn't a question but Rush shrugged anyway. "That's really what you want to know." "In for a penny," Rush muttered. His cigarette had burned down and he ground it into the ashtray and lit another. Telford shook his head and Rush was weighing up his options on how to get him to talk when he shrugged carelessly. "Before we practically wiped the Goa'uld out, they used to camp down in lakes when there weren't any hosts around. Pretty much impossible to see them if they didn't surface and we couldn't avoid every body of water we came across. Kid called Murray was washing dirt off his hands when one of them came out of the water and burrowed straight into him." The detached, impersonal way Telford was recounting the memory made Rush feel sick, even though he had asked for it. He wanted to know this. He did. "One of the other guys held him down and I tried to pull it out. It was young and hadn't aimed quite right; got more of his shoulder than his neck, so it couldn't wrap around his spine. We'd gotten to him quick and I managed to pull it free." Telford took a last drag and flicked the stub out of the window. "It brought his shoulder blade with it. But hey. He lived." Rush felt cold and shivery, but he deserved this. He’d asked for it. "What did it feel like?" From the corner of his eye he saw Telford look at him but refused to turn himself. There was a long silence and he thought he wouldn't get an answer. "Like… a baby eel," Telford said finally, "before they get their tough skin. Too soft for what it was." Have you killed a lot of baby eels, Rush wanted to ask. He couldn't seem to get his tongue to work though, which was probably a blessing. He imagined smooth skin beneath his hands, slimy and slightly wet from a lake. He imagined the blood, the screaming, having to pull a man's bones out through his skin; because it was to save him, from something worse, from walking around in his own skin a prisoner. He imagined dropping the alien on the ground and crushing it beneath his boot. He imagined never being able to relax around water again.

Ridiculous - completely normal and safe things to say when you're being "interviewed" by the US military:

The first man hummed irritably and shuffled his papers again. "You are not a US citizen. Who did you vote for when you were based in the UK?" The sudden change of gears made Rush laugh. "You’re asking me about my political opinions?" They all looked at him expectantly. The ice still hadn’t worn off and Rush didn’t know what to say, so he said the first thing that came into his head. "I’ve always thought communism was quite good."

Tagging: @fortunatetragedy @the-golden-comet @moltenwrites @viscerawrites @aggsh-shs + OPEN

[miasmaghoul]

*shaking the bars of my cage* Dewdrop is never the dom because he is the smallest but with the right leverage strength isn't even a factor *angsty rattling continues* if you're still taking ficlet asks i would love to see him to get a turn, especially with one of the bigger ghouls. Authors choice, ofc.

So uhhhhhh how do we feel about a primal chase?

Just wondering.

(cw for blood, consensual rough sex and, y'know, primal behaviour)

They don't do this often enough, he thinks. This game they play when Dewdrop is in a certain mood and there aren't duties to attend to. When they have all the time in the world to focus on nothing but each other.

Well, in a way, at least.

Mountain grunts as he stumbles, catching himself on the rough bark of a massive pine. His legs ache, his chest burns, his head is spinning. He's been running for so long now, gone so deep into the forest that the thick boughs overhead blot out the afternoon sun.

He rests his forehead against the tree, fighting to catch his breath as silently as possible. His muscles are twitchy and aching, shot through with adrenaline and exertion. His mouth is so dry. He can hear water nearby, a soft rushing sound, and all he wants to do is find its source and lay there until he can feel his feet again.

He's so hard he can barely stand up straight.

But there's no time for him to pause, to rest. Not when the forest is whispering at him.

He's coming.

Watch out.

He's getting close.

He -

"I can smell you."

Mountain's whole being goes cold, and just like that he's running again, eyes cast down, arms pumping. He knows these woods like the back of his hand, knows every nook and cranny, but the chase has gone on so long that he's started to get turned around. He recognizes the grouping of boulders to his left as one he passed some 20 minutes earlier.

"Fuck," he gasps, forced still by a stitch in his side. Dew's icy voice is still wrapped around his brainstem, and every bit of Mountain's energy not being poured into running is working to suppress his overactive scent gland. He heart hammers against his ribs and the earth ghoul can't remember the last time he felt so...alive.

The sound of a twig snapping nearby sets him off again and Mountain sprints what he thinks is west. Towards the edge of the forest, he hopes. He needs more light, the thick blanket of branches overhead providing too much shadow and cover for everything that wasn't him.

He bobs between trees, bare feet skipping around thick roots and clusters of nettles. The forest opens up before him, the evergreen canopy thinning just enough for the ground to be speckled with golden light. Sunset tones. Mountain can hear that stream again, but it's calmer now. He must be further downstream. He's still hopped up on adrenaline, on the thrill of it all, but he's so fucking thirsty. His mouth is unbearably dry.

Mountain holds his breath and closes his eyes, tucked between a pair of tree trunks. He lets himself melt into the bark, and tunes back in to the song of the forest.

He hears the growth of the trees, the creak of their heavy branches. The flow of the water, how it carves through the earth below to bring life elsewhere.

He's coming.

Mountain cringes, focusing harder. He knows Dew is coming, that was the point of the chase, but he needs direction. He can't hear footsteps anymore, hasn't been able to since the broken twig. His nose is filled with sap and wildflowers, unable to hone in on the smoke-and-spice smell of the fire ghoul.

He's coming.

He ignores the warning, reaching deeper into the earth. Into the roots of the trees and the dirt itself, searching for a hot spot. For any hint of where Dewdrop lies, hunting Mountain like his own dinner. His flagging cock twitches, painful and sticky against his jeans. He feels like he's so close, like if he just get a little deeper -

He's here.

Mountain's eyes fly open and they're met with molten copper.

"Caught you."

Dewdrop is on him claws first, digging into Mountain's shoulders and dragging him to the ground. The fire ghoul is stronger than he looks, and the element of surprise paired with Mountain's exhaustion makes him hard to fight. The earth ghoul tries anyway.

"No, no-" he scrabbles at the ground, tries to force himself up and away, but Dew has the advantage. He's small and squirrely, evading Mountain's flailing hands easily. His fangs dig into Mountain's shoulder and the earth ghoul cries out, already chubbing up again.

They're a tangle of limbs and claws and teeth, matching each other swipe for swipe. Dew's claws slice right through his shirt and jeans, fangs sinking into every soft spot he can find until the air is tinged with copper. Mountain can't fight as long as he wants, and now he's realizing it was intentional. That Dew dragged the chase on for so long for this moment. The one where he shoves an utterly exhausted and shaking Mountain onto his stomach and scruffs him.

"Mine," Dew hisses in his ear, yanking Mountain's tattered jeans down, "mine."

Mountain's tears come hot and fast when Dew spits in his hand and shoves two fingers into him with no warning, ripping a shout from his throat. The claws at his neck dig in deeper as Dew preps him fast and rough, like always. His pulse is thready and his head is swimming. He can't hear the forest any longer, lost in the sounds of his own quiet sobs and the slick slide of skin on skin when Dew pulls his hand away and strokes himself. He presses his full weight over Mountain's back, teeth at his ear, the slick tip nudging at his twitching hole.

"Who do you belong to?" It's growled into his ear as Dew's claws dig into his ribs. Mountain whimpers and Dew's cock spits pre against his hole. "Say it, say it."

There's an edge to his voice that would be bratty in any other context, but now it just shoves Mountain further down. Everything that isn't the press of Dew's body against his fades away, stripped bare and open. The sting of the shallow cuts and bites makes his skin sing. Dew's other hand snakes into his hair and yanks, and Mountain's cock throbs against the earth.

"You," he chokes out, the air forced out of him at Dew pushes in to the hilt with no warning. "Fuck, I'm yours!"

Dew sets a punishing pace that has Mountain's eyes rolling back, the hand in his hair sliding around to grip at his throat.

"Then fuckin' take it."

Dew's fangs sink into the back of his neck, and Mountain does.

[bonefall]

i am definitely one of those people who gives their cats warrior names so here r my parents' two young cats:

"Cloudbound"-> Haipipip "fat cloud bouncing." He is a big floofy ragdoll himbo and he reminds me of a cotton swab.

"Flywhisker" -> Ffawshusspap "keen fruit fly." There's not yet words in the lexicon for her name I think, so I used "bee sensing with carpal whiskers" as a placeholder which is kind of what I want to get at but she's really more of a fruit fly yk? And I couldn't find a personality adjective for an observant cat or a proficient hunter, which I think could be a good addition regardless. Anyways she is a very skittish and twitchy little black and white spotted cat and i am her favorite person because i walk quietly.

Don't feel obligated to answer this ask, i just wanted to share :]

FLIES

Fruit flies are actually quite rare, and mostly only seen in ThunderClan because of their notorious love of including fruit in their recipes. This climate is very cold, and fruit flies are most common around human settlements where there's a year-round supply of fruit (pre-infested!) coming in from supermarkets.

So I'll add fruit flies when I get around to a legitimate entry on flies as a whole, but for now, there's a whole bunch of teeny flies that could be very fitting here.

Let's start with the broad "categories" of "Fly" that Clan Cats have plus some related words;

Fly (Generic) = Usprr Any insect that primarily flies to travel, but is not a butterfly, dragonfly, or midge. Bees are a type of Fly in Clanmew. (Midges include craneflies, robberflies, and mosquitoes)

Waste = Bloh Translates directly. A waste. Something that can't be used.

Gall = Oorp Swollen bumps and shapes that rise off plants to house certain types of insects, very popular with certain types of flies, but also used by some mites.

To Harmlessly Pretend/To Pretend To Be Busy = Aweerron/Aweerro/Aweerr This is a REALLY hard verb to translate into English. Translated directly, it means "doing the act of being dandelion-yellow." Translated roughly, it means to don the color yellow so you're left alone by something with a greater threat-level. It can mean 'compliance,' or it can mean to 'mind your own business,' or it can even mean 'looking busy.' A verb that describes several animals, but especially types of flies, of which bees are a type. Their yellow coloration acts as a deterrent to bigger animals who want to avoid being stung. If you've ever been at work and just done something pointless when the boss rolls around, so you don't get assigned more work, you were doing this.

Maggot (of any fly) = Ulae The most general term for baby flies of all types. Also used for bee larvae. NOT derogatory in Clanmew.

Maggot (of green bottlefly) = Huli The medicinal maggot, a VERY important species for use in treating SEVERE wounds.

SPECIFIC CATEGORIES OF FLIES

Hover Fly = Hafrr Little flies capable of a true hover, coming in various odd shapes, but most are dandelion-yellow. Just like butterflies, a fly that is capable of performing this difficult flight pattern is highly respected, but in a cutesy, diminutive way. Hover flies are primarily pollinators, seen around flowers. Being likened to a hoverfly is like being called "spunky."

Building Fly = Kyybr Most bees, wasps, hornets, certain gall flies. Flies that build another structure. Ants temporarily become these at certain times of the year, according to the Clan cat interpretation of an ant's nuptial flight. There are a TON of other subtypes under this, wasps, solitary bees, swarming bees, etc, which I'll get into some other time.

Bristle Fly = Bfurr Probably what you imagine when you hear "fly." Round, bristly, buzzy things, which are often attracted to rotting things and waste. A little fruit fly is a type of bfurr, but so are bottleflies and the golden dung fly. Some flies which are not drawn to decaying matter, such as the Red Parasite Fly, get lumped in here too.

Lace Fly = Honrr Clear-winged, slender insects. Includes scorpionflies, some sawflies, actual lacewings, and the bay sucker.

And lastly, a couple of interesting species.

Scorpionfly (Panorpa Communis) = Yykrn The web-pilferer. Named for its habit of snatching the prey of spiders right out of their webs!

Cleg (Haematopota pluvialis) = Grawr The MOST annoying fly in the entire Clans, absolutely detested. A nasty creature whose bite contains an anticoagulant, causing it to bleed profusely. Common in WindClan and near the edges of conifer forests (such as the plantation near ShadowClan). Considered a lot worse than mosquitoes, which are just itchy.

Marmalade Hover Fly (Episyrphus balteatus) = Fsi Yes. Marmalade can be a valid warrior cat prefix if you'd like <3 The most common hoverfly, traveling in swarms and looking almost exactly like a bee. Their maggots kill aphids and the adults pollinate flowers, causing them to be looked at especially fondly in ThunderClan.

Green Bottlefly (Lucilia sericata) = Holibf The species that is attracted by Clerics so its maggots can be used in medicine. A fly species you're definitely already familiar with, for its shiny, green abdomen.

[bromcommie]

Hello & Happy Monday!

So...for the WIP tag game...I know I'm supposed to pick the one (1! ONE!) that I find most intriguing, but this is like a whole buffet of intrigue, so maybe I can have two? 👀 1) НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT) <- ngl, the 'figure out' cracked me up. Also, late night conversations? Yes, please!

2) what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 <- this just sounds fun...and possibly like the title could be deliberately misleading

Thank you! <3

Hello helloo, happy Monday to you too! (but also Tuesday now I guess. It's a 2-for-1!)

Thank you for the ask, and thank you for indulging me with two (2! it's gonna be so long!) <3

НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT!!!) - Ooof, this fucking guy. I'm glad my stern instructions to myself in the title there were funny, because I do indeed need to FIGURE this one OUT and it's bugging me. It's essentially another chapter that's a part of a larger work (not naming names not pointing fingers but it's. The Work I'm Having Trouble Updating) and it was written a looong while back, which is why it's now a standalone file. I love the premise but I kinda want to tear it down and rebuild it entirely, mostly because I'm still deciding on whether I like the way I wrote the backstory for it. So. It's fun! It's challenging! It's giving me a migraine! The title's from this song about a tired traveler trying to find his way in the night. It's three conversations (Steve+Nat, Nat+Bucky and Bucky+Steve - although they barely talk at all) that happen in the night after a very not lucid, injured Don't-Call-Me-Bucky who's recently remembered the Red Room and also had a pretty rattling encounter with the code words seeks Natasha out in Europe for [redacted] something as a last resort, but instead accidentally walks straight into Steve who he's been staying away from like the Devil Himself since CATWS. And then basically bleeds all over him. (I am not immune to the wound care trope! However, this is unfortunately not that.) A lot of ugly feelings and defense mechanisms are brought up, some painful memories re: the war and the Red Room are brought up, and nobody's having a good time or really knows how to process jack shit. They all communicate/perceive love&protection in wildly different ways, and while all three dynamics end on some kind of natural conclusion it's still a lot of unfinished, unspoken business and just kind of sad. Hurt no comfort that's necessary for there to be the promise of comfort in the future, if you will. Tbh, I really want to finish/reincorporate this one. But it's just so *screams into paper bag*. Anyway. Snippet:

When Steve wakes up the next morning Bucky’s gone, like he knew he would be. Like a hurricane passing through, the foreknowledge doesn’t make the aftermath any easier. And then what? his own voice from so long ago echoes in his head as he waits for the water for Natasha’s tea to boil in the sunny little kitchenette of the motel’s lobby. 16 hours later, he’s watching the blinding stripe of the sun setting over the East River before the plane maneuvers onto the landing strip at JFK. The hell else? Then we march on, ace. We go home.

2. what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 - oh good, thank god! So this one is a bit more fun, but it's only got a few disjointed half-scenes so far. The title is actually one of the most literal ones on the list - the fic does take place in Astoria, Queens, and it does involves a certain "nutcase". Several, even. They really don't get along, and then they almost do.

(Blame my recent rewatch of the Netflix shows for this one. Man. What a golden age that was.)

Excerpt under the cut:

It was easy to clock the combat training before, sure, but up close this guy’s… Keyed up. Wild-eyed, a little, and not in the twitchy way of the three idiots piled up outside by the ruined water hydrant, not just sheer adrenaline stoked by fear and booze and coke. More dialed-in, purposefully ruthless. Hungry. Getting up with an expression like an enraged bull in spite of the beating he just took. Nutcase, Barnes thinks bleakly. Not that he’s in any position to judge — glass houses, all that, but — “What’re you,” he croaks, “some kind of psycho?” “Says the guy who just mowed down six guys without blinking." The man spits, grimacing at the blood that lands on the stark white of the rooftop like it personally offends him. If he notices the similar spray across his busted face, his clothes, his military-short hair, he doesn't seem to give a damn. "Nice going, by the way— my man got away." "And my man's bleeding out on a fucking pool table downstairs," he grits out. He doesn't have time for this. This whole night has been one giant exercise in unpredictability, and the police sirens echoing off in the distance are problem enough without him having to duke it out over and over with some local homicidal moron who might or might not be HYDRA. "You wanna tell me what that's about?" The man levels an irritated look back at him and then shrugs, dismissive. "I don't play with my food." "Your food had intel I've been hunting for two weeks." "Tough shit. Maybe if you hadn't screwed up your goddamn trig—" His lip curls of its own volition, affronted despite himself. What an appropriate time for his ego to announce it's back from the dead and in the mix. How fun. “The hell I did. I don’t miss.” "Is that right? There's some real screwed up drywall down there that says otherwise." His voice picks up an edge of something dangerous, aiming for threatening and landing on feral as he takes a step closer, and Jesus, can he stay down already? "Unless you did it on purpose to let him know I'm coming because you work for the bastard, in which case lemme tell you, you and me have a whole different problem." "I don't work for anybody," he says, probably with more intensity than strictly necessary. "He was a civillian. I don't kill civillians." The words curl acerbic on his tongue. He doesn't. He doesn't. That, of all things, makes the man laugh, a bitter little thing that sounds like it clawed its way out of his throat, and only barely. Who the fuck is this guy. "Oh Jesus Christ, not this bullshit again— how many of you assholes are running around this place, huh?" he says, gesturing a little wildly at him. "You got a fancy catsuit under that hobo getup, too?" It's Barnes' turn to look at him like he's a few marbles short, which judging by all evidence he very well might be. The guy snorts at his confusion, shaking his head. "If you consider that criminal piece of dog shit a civilian, you’re way more out of your depth than I thought, kid.”

but also:

“Self-righteous, God's sacrificial lamb type-of-shit," he mumbles around the mouthful with distaste, staring off across the bridge. "Got himself a stupid fucking title and everything, if you can believe that. Major pain in my ass.” Barnes hums, considering, before taking a cautious bite of his own sandwich. The thick pile of fatty meat and melted cheese breaks apart in his mouth easy with a sudden, almost overwhelming explosion of flavours, his empty stomach singing praises despite the ache in his bruised jaw as he chews. He never thought he’d say this, but god bless Queens. “Catholic?” Castle grunts an affirmative. “Yeah, I have some experience with that.”