I wrote this little ficlet this week (you can read it on AO3 too), because I needed too. It's called "Angelic bubble" I let you discover why. You can also read it below:
They have this silly ritual between them. It started when they were watching a movie in Dean’s room because Sam and Jack were playing table soccer in the Dean cave. They settled on the bed next to each other with their back resting against the headboard.
Dean won’t admit it but with his current age and the hunting life, his back is hurting when he sits like that too long. Too long being the half of a movie. That time Cas saw him being agitated, not comfortable. He kept moving to find a right position, but they were none.
“Come here, Dean!” Cas offered, patting the space in front of him and between his legs.
“I’m fine.” Dean said, settling in one position. But then he moved again slightly because he wasn’t comfortable.
“Dean.” Cas just said, low and strong, and Dean surrendered. He shifted on the bed carefully and sat between Cas’s legs. He looked behind him, quirking one eyebrow as he looked at the angel behind him. Cas rolled his eyes, grabbed Dean’s shoulders, and pulled him against his chest. “Lie down and relax.” He said but Dean wasn’t relaxed at all. He wasn’t used to sit like that with Cas, they waited 12 long years maybe more to kiss after all. And at the time, they kissed a few times since Cas was back from the Empty, nothing more happened between them yet. Not that they didn’t want to, because they surely did, but not every walls come down at once, it takes time. So this kind of touching, despite feeling so right, still felt weird too, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do it nor to have that.
“I can’t, I’m sorry.” Dean said sitting up, away from Cas.
“Why?” Cas asked, looking at him questioningly.
“I – I don’t know. I –“ Dean tried to explain but in vain. He was having difficulties to be emotionally vulnerable, but he improved that part a little bit. Now he was discovering he had difficulties to be physically vulnerable. It never happened to him before, especially not with a chick he would pick up in a random bar. So why was it so difficult with Cas?
“Dean, please, let me take care of you.” That was it. That was what Dean needed. He needed Cas to show – say out loud - that he wasn’t doing that because he felt obliged to. He wanted to make sure Cas wanted this, wanted him pressed up against his own body.
Dean leaned back against Cas’s chest he felt arms wrapping around him and maybe something else not visible to human eyes. He felt that warm and soft feeling he has every time Cas’s grace evade his body to heal him. And then he felt that warm breath and familiar voice against his ear whisper softly, “I love you.” He was finally able to relax. And now every time they watch a movie just the two of them in Dean’s bed, the hunter sits instantly in his private angelic bubble.
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"when i was your age, i was working three jobs to help support my family" and "when i was in college i was sleeping on a mattress on the floor and living off of soup"
YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE HAD TO DO THAT. NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO DO THAT. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN TO YOU THAT THIS ISN'T A CHARACTER-BUILDING LESSON, IT'S JUST BAD
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I think Laios's father represents a version of Laios who never found people who supported him and his interests; someone who was hurt one too many times by his inability to communicate or read social cues, and has fully retracted into himself as a result.
Very similar to Laios, he's grown to prefer the company of beasts over men, and hunts for food as a means of escapism. The only difference is Laios has people to share these interests with, while his father had only his hounds. His description here especially makes him seem not particularly uncaring, just sad and lonely.
Do you think at one point he was as cheerful as Laios?
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I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.
Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:
Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao
this is so stupid :D
Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.
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The Joker was apprehended, sitting on the ground as Batman guarded him, but the kid--"Bruce Wayne's newest ward, how tragic! Hehehe!"--was nowhere to be found. Nightwing and Red Hood desperate searched the warehouse until a shuffling noise grabbed their attention.
A kid, black haired just like the kid in the Joker's broadcast, crawling out of a pile of boxes. "Is it over?" the boy asked quietly.
Nightwing guided him to the only exit, unfortunately walking past the boy's own kidnapper. "Yeah, kid. It's over. Come on-"
Like a shot, the boy rushed the Joker and kicked him right in the balls.
The Joker wheezed like a dying squeaky toy. Red Hood froze. Nightwing immediately snatched the boy up by the armpits, but all that did was give the boy the height to attack again, punting Joker in the jaw. The clown went down and cracked his head on the floor. He did not get back up.
There was a moment of silence before Red Hood roared with laughter, his helmet distorting the sound.
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I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.
You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?
Click on their name. And look at their profile.
I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.
"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.
"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.
Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.
Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.
Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.
I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.
Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.
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