#i'm doing a bit better in some ways but i'm still so goddamn tired

[veliseraptor]

eagerly awaiting the time when i will not be so fucking tired

[leahswife]

the in-betweens

summary: in which you and aitana go from normal best friends to best friends who kiss.

a/n: this is the before of "where do we stand". gotta post some aitana fluff after all the jenni filth. i'm sorry if this feels rushed but i just couldn't find any more ways to describe the goddamn act of kissing 😭

prequel, part one, part two, part three

"ven a bailar conmigo, porfaaa." aitana begged as she grabbed your hand. 

"no no no aita–" you tried to protest but the girl's strong arms pulled you up from your seat, in the direction of the dance floor. you looked back at where you were seated besides caro and marta, sending them a pleading look to save you. they sent you an apologetic look but knew even they couldn't reason with a buzzed energetic aitana. you groaned at being dragged, you weren't in the mood for drinks tonight and you pretty content sitting next to the calm couple.

you don't know where aitana managed to find so much energy to party after a long game. but she did. and insisted on trying to force some of it into your worn out body.

you danced for a while, aitana screaming along to the spanish songs playing. you were unable to keep your frown on, with a smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you saw how happy she was.

she finally calmed down and wrapped her arms around your neck which made you comfortable enough to wrap yours around her waist, pulling her closer. you felt like your heart could combust with how close she was. she was breathless and clearly still high on a buzz when she got closer to your ear to shout "quiero besarte!" you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not quite understanding what she said, a mix of language barrier and loud music not allowing you to. she grabbed the back of your neck to pull you closer and shouted again, "i want to kiss you!" she smiled excitedly.

you felt like your eyes couldn't grow wider if you wanted to, shocked at what you just heard. "you want to kiss me?" you asked her, disbelief in your voice. she just nodded with a happy smile and kept on dancing like she just didn't drop those 'too drunken' news on your 'too sober' self.

you went along with her wishes for a while but the pressing of sweaty bodies against you was starting to make you uncomfortable and so you got closer to aitana to shout in her ear, "i'm tired, tana. i'm going!" she nodded, starting to get drained too and both of you went back to your friends' table to gather your stuff. she tripped a bit on her own feet and you quickly put your hand on her waist to steady her, "okay, i'm taking you home." you say as you grab her stuff for her, she just giggled and let you take the lead, "at least take me to dinner first."

once you got to her house, you search for her keys in her purse and open the door, planting your hand on her back to guide her inside.

"so much better." you let out as you relished in the warmth of aitana's apartment, compared to the night's relentless cold outside. you turned to aitana to see her shivering in her dress, holding tightly onto her jacket.

"aitanita, go change into your pajamas." you rubbed up and down her arms and she nodded, "you can use my pajamas too" she suggested quietly, sleepiness taking over her.

"oh that's okay, i can go ba–"

"i'd like for you to stay." she whispered, looking up at you. she was sobering up by now and you could see it in her eyes there was something she needed to let out. did she remember what she said earlier? about you two kissing? she could really just let it go and blame it on the alcohol but you knew aitana felt the need to carefully explain any behaviour that could come across as weird. so you nodded. you went to grab her pajamas and got ready in her bathroom while she got dressed in her bedroom.

when you walked in, aitana was sprawled in her bed, dead asleep. you looked at her for a moment, heart beating slightly faster at the thought that your best friend might like you back. anyway, that was something for you to obsess over later. you chuckled at her figure and tucked her in, pulling the warm covers over her. you grabbed a blanket and made yourself comfortable on her couch.

–

"why did you sleep on the couch?!" 

you groaned and reluctantly opened your eyes as a scolding aitana woke you up.

"you don't have a guest room." you mumbled sleepily.

"so you should've slept in my bed." she crossed her arms.

"hm. couldn't disturb your beauty sleep." you put one arm over your eyes to keep away the light.

"idiota." you heard aitana mutter under her breath as she continued to throw complaints in catalan at you.

"aita, aita, aita" you repeated in hopes of interrupting her, in which you were successful, resulting in aitana shutting her mouth but not without sending you a scowl.

"qué?"

"has anyone ever told you that you're extremely loud and talk way–" you're interrupted by her rolling her eyes and moving towards the kitchen, ignoring you, "-- way too fast!" you yelled after her.

soon after, you feel a body sit down next your lying one. you opened your eyes to see aitana offering you a plate with fruit and eggs and some orange juice. you sit up, a smile forming on your face. "you didn't have to."

"eat." 

"bossy."

"as i speak."

you looked at her, getting slightly anxious at what was about to come next. but you nodded and started diving into your plate.

"i said something last night." she started, hesitantly. you nodded again, focusing more on your plate rather than looking at her so she wouldn't feel so much on the spot.

"i didn't– i don't want to make you uncomfortable with what i said."

"did you mean it though?" you finally lift your gaze towards her. 

"i– i did mean it. but i don't know what that means for me. if that makes sense." aitana was looking at her hands, fidgeting with them. this was clearly a sensitive topic. you noticed her breathing starting to get irregular and you put your plate and glass on the coffee table so you could get closer to her.

"i just don't want to lose you and i'm sorry if i made things awkward or different–" she started rambling the same time her tears started flowing down her cheeks. you pulled her into a hug and held her tight, "hey, tana–" "i don't want you to look at me differently or avoid me–" she was trying to control her breathing at this point, so you grabbed her cheeks, "aitana. stop." you said firmly, trying to ground her. she finally regained control of her breath and looked at you with slightly red eyes. 

"aitana, i can assure you that you wanting to kiss me is not a problem. at all. i don't feel weird or uncomfortable or whatever. hell, i feel flattered that aitana bonmatí wants to kiss me." you winked at her, trying to lighten up the mood. she giggled and wiped her nose. you felt relieved when you saw the smile back in her face, "i know this is probably overwhelming for you right now and you have a lot to discover on your own. but i can't lie and say i don't want to kiss you either." 

she looked up at you, eyes wide at your confession. 

"but if that's something you're not ready to explore, let's leave it at that and let it go."

–

and you did. let it go, that is. for a little while.

none of you spoke about it. you figured aitana should be the one to bring it up when she's prepared, so you went back to normal. as if nothing happened.

until it did.

–

you and almost the whole barça team were hanging out at mapi and ingrid's house for bonding night. you had played a few games and were now gathered around the living-room, watching a movie.

you were sitting at one of the ends of the couch, with aitana cuddling you by your side. you'd often whisper things to her to explain some scene from the movie or make some joke about what was happening. you'd do anything to see her smile and give you her absolutely lovable giggle.

at one point she nudged you to face her. "hm?" you asked, highly aware of how close your faces were. "i'm going to take a nap, wake me up when it's over." she whispered and you could feel her breath on your lips, which was far too intoxicating. you could simply nod and try to not look at her lips. 

she smiled as a thank you and flicked her eyes to your lips before gazing back up at you. you felt her inhale a short breath before looking down at your lips again and moving closer, pressing her own against the corner of your mouth. if your heart wasn't beating fast before, it definitely was now.

you started at each other, both understanding that that changed something.

she leaned her head on your shoulder again to try and take her nap but there was no way aitana was able to fall asleep now with the thundering in her chest.

–

the ride back to aitana's house was silent. there was unspoken tension between you two and you both knew it.

you got out of your car and walked her over to her door, not quite sure what to say and feeling like a teenager with a crush who's just dropped her date off at home and doesn't know what to do.

you huffed in frustration. the silence was killing you and you had to do something about it. you stepped closer to aitana and carefully cupped her cheeks, looking at her as if asking for permission. she didn't pull away so you leaned in, noses touching, you giving her another chance to back out if she wanted to.

she didn't. so you took your chance and softly pressed your lips against hers. 

you honestly didn't know how to describe it. it was tentative, gentle, delicate but - comfortable? like your lips were always meant to touch hers and knew exactly how to move against hers as if you've kissed a hundred times before. 

after what felt like ages to you but were actually seconds, aitana kisses you back. you keep kissing for a few more moments before you pull back, hands still cupping the catalan's cheeks and stare at her, breathless.

"i swear, aitana, if you still don't speak after that i–" you're cut off by her sweet little giggle before she presses multiple kisses on your lips. "you want to come in?" she asks, biting her lip to try and keep her grin from widening even further.

"damn, bonmatí. a girl gives you a finger and you want the whole arm." you shook your head in fake disapproval.

"callate." she grabbed your hand and pulled you in. 

the rest of the night was spent with you two letting your lips and tongues explore each other's mouths. it started off as shy and tender but as comfort and boldness started to settle in, your kisses got harder and provocative.

however, no matter how much your hands and lips delved into each other, no labels were defined. 

and they wouldn't be for the next months to come.

–

a routine started to settle in. you would show up at each other's houses for "best friend's night" and it always ended up with you locking lips. whether it was while aitana was cooking or when she beat you at a board game and you wanted to shut her up.

the same conversation also started to settle in between make out sessions. "just friends, right?" aitana would whisper breathlessly against your lips, and you would nod, agreeing with whatever she wanted so you could press your lips against hers again and again.

"i just," she would cut herself off to kiss you, "can't be," kiss, "in a relationship right now." kiss. you would agree because you would accept anything aitana would give you, no matter how small or little it could be.

you couldn't keep off of each other even at training, with you often pulling her inside closets so you could press her against the wall and muffle her giggles with your mouth. or when she would drag you into the changing room while others were at lunch to playfully bite your lips and leave you winded up.

but aitana was a busy person. she had family, friends and her career to focus on. but all she seemed to focus on now was you. and that was starting to worry her. she never had to make room for someone else in her life since starting her career, except for the casually meeting friends once in a while and visiting her family when she could. but to share everything with someone?

so she started to pull away, she wouldn't reach out to you during trainings, choosing to focus on getting there earlier for gym sessions and staying after to practice some more. this was her life, this was her focus. it had to be. so the "best friend's nights" started to disappear as well, aitana claiming she was too tired after trainings. and she was, she really was. as much as she trained, she didn't feel as fulfilled as before. the more she pulled away from you, the less accomplished she felt. but she also pulled these feelings away.

football was once her entire life. and it would be again.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Part 5 of Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Sorry guys this turned out crappy, I'm really unhappy with this one but I hope the next part will be better again. Finally we get to see readers perspective on things. Also name reveal of readers dog, finally. < Part 4 | COD Masterlist | Part 6 >

So there’s this new butcher. He’s kind of intimidating but he’s nice. At least you’re pretty sure he’s nice. He rarely speaks but the meat at that shop is the best so you power through the anxiety the big man induces (the first time you caught a glimpse of him you had to hide and gather your nerves before going inside).

God, he’s big. Built like a brick shithouse he looms over you even behind the counter. The fact that Wraith has to wait outside the shop makes you wring your fingers nervously on the regular. You’re happy that Simon, that’s what his name tag said, never gives off creep vibes.

Still, stepping into the shop always makes you want to curl in on yourself. Somehow the butcher has a way of taking up the entire room with his presence. The way he stands and moves makes you think he somehow got dominance drilled into his genes. Maybe if you go in often enough some of that will rub off on you, god knows you’d enjoy being a bit intimidating.

When he allows you to bring in Wraith with you, you reconsider. Simon isn’t just nice. He’s kind.

Sure he’s quiet and big and he could snap your neck with one hand (don’t think about that, don’t think about that) but he’s considerate. The consideration he showed for you also proved that he is scarily observant and you’re not sure you like that.

You hate being observed or looked at. You’d prefer to be a ghost, existing in the world but not being perceived. But since you don’t plan on dying anytime soon you got yourself your own personal bodyguard.

Wraith is the sweetest soul on earth and you’re not sure what you did to find him. He saved you in more ways than one and it seems you saved the scarred and tired dog too.

Being allowed to bring him into the shop with you helps a lot. As big and scary as the butcher is, Wraith could do serious damage to him if he so much as raised a hand against you.

So you’re pretty confident nowadays when you go to buy Wraith’s treats. Over time Simon has grown to be a new part of your routine and you don’t mind him anymore. He might be a goddamn intense man but he’s proven himself to be nice (you just pray that your intuition isn��t wrong with him).

You’d even say you’re more or less comfortable around him by now so when you walk in one day and hear one of your favorite songs play you can’t contain yourself. Maybe you’re making a fool of yourself in front of the butcher but the way he chuckles immediately soothes you. He doesn’t seem to judge you at all.

Still you’d be mortified by yourself (you can’t remember the last time you were yourself that much anywhere besides your own four walls) if Simon didn’t smile at you behind his mask and oh... His eyes are kind and sparkle lively with mirth; you’ve never seen him have an expression like that before.

Suddenly you realize how hidden the man keeps himself. Always behind a mask never any unnecessary movements, always controlled. To see his eyes so expressive is kind of a shock. But it’s a good shock, you decide.

It’s the first real conversation you have with him and it’s about music. That immediately makes you warm up to him even more. So much so, that you end up admitting that you don’t want to go to a concert alone.

You’ve barely recovered from making a fool of yourself and having the first real conversation with the butcher, when he pulls the rug out from under your feet:

”I’m planning on going to that concert, wanna join me? I’ll make sure you’re safe, sweetheart.”

[jamil-s-wifey]

Hello :3 Can I get a long scenario with my dearest Jamil?

I really love him so much >///< so here is my scenario, I hope you can accept

Jamil got sick and has a fever. MC stayed beside him and nursed him for 3 days without blinking and finally he recovered. He started to remember her care during his illness after his fever dropped. And when he woke up, MC hugged him tightly. A bit long, huh? 😅 I would be happy with little NSFW, not gonna lie.

Well hello there, fellow Jamil enthusiast~ It has certainly been a hot minute, hasn't it? It is my utmost pleasure to present you with the *long-awaited* scenario at hand! A bit of NSFW, some heart-warming fluff and Jamil finally getting a GODDAMN break, coming right up! It's not full on NSFW, just a lil bit, as requested, I don't know why it turned out like that- still, I hope this is good! (Tbh, it fits the scenario)

P.S. This hit close to home, I used to be a very sickly child and I still catch all sorta sicknesses a lot easier than normal people. So, what he will experience here is all based on very PERSONAL and very SALTY experience. 🙃

"What am I gonna do with you? You can't keep pushing yourself so much!" You murmured, pressing a cold cloth to Jamil's forehead as he slept soundly.

.......

Jamil hated being sick. Pretty normal right? Everybody hates being sick.

But to Jamil, sickness meant pushing through and continuing with his chores, regardless of his wellbeing. Imagine cooking above a hot stove with a high temperature. Can't be pleasant, can it?

But even the hardest stones could crack under enough force - such is the way the world works. It was towards the end of the day, as Jamil was preparing Kalim's dinner, when he felt his body give out under him. All day he'd been going around with a fever, he felt as if his own body was rotting on the inside, screaming at him to stop and have a break. His eyes were watery and felt as though they were burning in his eye sockets.

He couldn't even reach a chair to sit, before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor - too dizzy and too weak. Rarely did he ever get this sick, but this time it was bad. He moved to a more comfortable position and remained like that, trying to gather enough strength to get some medicine..... He most certainly didn't realise he'd fallen asleep, too tired to move, nor did he hear Kalim's worried voice when he found him on the floor in the kitchen.

And Kalim? Kalim was terrified! Quickly he called on his dorm members to move him to his room and immediately called you, crying on the phone, worried that Jamil might never wake up. (That's not how colds work, Kalim-) Worried about Jamil, you immediately rushed to the Scarabia dorm, medicine in hand.

_____________

And now here you are, in the present, taking extensive care of your near delirious not-quite-boyfriend-but-kinda-love-interest. He'd occasionally wake up and exchange barely audible pleasantries with you, drink his "extra healthy and full of good stuff" chicken soup (whatever that was supposed to entail) and then fall back into slumber. His fever has gone down drastically, but the utter exhaustion left in its wake has kept him bedridden. Apparently it was a seasonal fever, which just so happened to hit Jamil, who in turn chose to ignore it in the beginning.

You'd taken the liberty to remain situated in his room for about three days.

Day one was the worst - high fever, clattering teeth and a sleepless night to boot. You'd change his shirt every time he'd drench it in sweat whilst fighting off the fever. You'd switch up the cloth every time it lost its cooling effect, you'd remained by his side the entire time, least he needed something anything at all.

"Once you get better, I'm so gonna yell at you for not taking better care of yourself.... You're lucky I love you." You'd mumbled, barely audible in the quiet of the room as he slept.

Day two was better - he slept through most of it and you could in turn prepare some soup, as well as cover most of his chores, get a pass from the teachers AND even leave him some of your notes for when he recovers. (Look at you go! He'd better propose imo)

Now, on day three he was evidently much healthier. Finally he gave up trying to get out of bed, and instead lay resting, drinking his medicine, feeling utterly pampered by you.

_____________

"How long have you...been here?" You seemed pretty tired in his eyes. The moment you heard his voice you immediately threw yourself gently on him, gently crushing his bones in a hug.

"A while." You responded, face buried in his chest. In reality, you hadn't had a proper night of sleep in about 3 days. You DID sleep, Kalim even prepared a guest bedroom, but you chose to remain next to Jamil for most of the time. "Do you know how worried I was?"

"You didn't have to do all this, you know? You could've get sick too."

"I could've, but I haven't. For somebody with such a keen eye and monstrous deliberation, you really don't know how to take care of yourself properly." You quipped back, moving to sit on the bed next to him.

"As, so I'm being reprimanded now." His gaze softened. "Thank you....for taking care of me these last few days... I've forgotten what it's like to not have to worry or do anything... I feel like I've slept a lifetime... I don't know how I could possibly return the favour."

You can't stay mad at him. He knows it, you know it. Hell, even the Great Seven know it.

"Return it by recovering completely."

He chose not to continue the conversation. He knew arguing was pointless.

"You know, while I was sleeping, or trying to, I was mostly aware of what was happening around me." He began, pushing himself up, in a sitting position. "When you'd quietly hum to yourself, or cuss when you couldn't find something..."

"Ah- well, did you now? Sorry if you had a difficult time falling asleep because of me. " you felt your cheeks warm up a bit.

"No no, please. It's fine. You've taken such good care of me. I just... couldn't help but hear something, which perhaps I wasn't meant to."

He reached out, tangling his hand in your hair.

"Something about you loving me?"

...

Nope, all that heat in your cheeks? Gone. Now it was just coldness and dread.

He saw your frazzled state and chuckled. "I guess I'm really lucky, to have you to take *such* good care of me, huh."

He leaned in, but stopped just centimetres away.

"I shouldn't."

You heart dropped even lower, if that was even possible.

"I could get you sick.~" There was a lilt to his voice, but his eyes showed concern.

"Oh, for fuck's sake-" you leaned in, smashing your lips onto his. He smiled into the kiss, pulling you towards him.

Naturally, you moved to sit in his lap, his hands moving to your waist.

"Your feelings are returned, for the record." He mumbled in between heated kisses. The more heated the kisses became, the more his hands would wander until-

In the blink of an eye, he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him. Skillfully he unbuttoned the first few buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your neck and collarbones. "I think I have a way of returning the favour. You took such good care of me, I think it's my turn~"

His attention moved to your neck, leaving heated languid kisses and playful bites on your skin. His hand trailed down to spread your legs, moving between them. Every single touch of his was intoxicating. Pretty quickly your shirt was thrown on the floor, the supple flesh underneath - covered in hickeys.

"Are you not going to undress as well? Or should I do that for you?" you asked, breathless, yet teasing in manner. Well. As teasing as one could get, given how achingly turned on you were. "Like you didn't have more than enough time to appreciate the view, during these last few days." he teased right back, but his hands moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time." He practically purred, fingers gliding over your stomach, gently trailing lower and lower.

"Of course, you can tell me to stop anytime."

"I don't want you to."

"As you wish, my dear. Then I'll make sure to indulge, taking, tasting, touching every single part of you. "

[brucewaynehater101]

Hi! I have a writing idea, but I neither have the skill nor the motivation to turn it into a full story, so I thought of sharing it with you because *grips you by the shoulders with tired eyes* you have soooooo many writing ideas, and most of them inspired this brainrot in the first place

It all starts with Tim Drake living the good life. He's married, he has an aquarium full of fish, he's Aquaman's No. 1 Rival in being loved by fishes, and he's a mentor of most Young Heroes of that generation.

He's literally a grandpa (grand-uncle? grunkle?) with a good relationship with his brothers and Bruce, and a loving and spicy relationship with his partners (I can't choose between Kon and Bernard so they're poly)

He dies of old age with no regrets, content with his life and full of hope for the future.

And then he wakes the fuck up.

What. Was. Was none of that real? Did everything good that happened just a dream? A figment of his imagination?

Because not only did he not wake up, he woke up in a pool of his own blood within Titan's Tower. Jason was still there, painting on the wall with the blood that Tim spilled, still wearing that laughingly atrocious costume.

This.

This is bullshit.

Was his life too good that the universe decided "Ha. Fuck you. You need to suffer more, Bitch," and chucked him all the way to the past?

Jason notices him awake, picks up Tim's bō, and prepares to whack Tim.

But Tim barely cares. He's hurting in so many places. He misses his husbands. He just wanted his forever vacation.

He closes his eyes and just waits for the unconsciousness to happen.

It happens, and the next time he wakes up, Nightwing is hovering over him, and Batman is walking away to hunt Red Hood down.

Tim takes in a deep breath. Exhales slowly.

And then, he screams, "GET THE FUCK BACK HERE, YOU GODDAMN FURRY."

Bruce pauses in his walk, Dick is gaping, and Alfred simply blinks at the side.

"YOU GONNA GO SEE JASON? WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO? SLIT HIS THROAT? YA BETTER STOP WHERE YOU FUCKING ARE BEFORE YOU DECIDE TO CONFRONT HIM, BECAUSE BY DIANA, YOU'RE MESSED UP IN THE FUCKING HEAD, YOU KNOW THAT?"

Dick tries to placate him. "Tim, calm down--"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, DICK! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS FUCKER DID ON MY BIRTHDAY?! ASK ALFRED BECAUSE HE WAS IN ON IT, TOO!"

Tim was panting now. But he didn't care. He remembered heart to hearts with Jason. He remembered how he and Jason had matching neck scars, and how much pain Jason's face was in when he shared what happened between him and Bruce.

"We need to restrain, Bruce. He's going to kill Jason. He's going to put Jason back in the grave if we let him go out."

Everyone pauses, Dick and Alfred's eyes widened in horrified shock. Bruce's face paled.

Tim may have exaggerated a bit, but they don't know that. Because Jason still died. His heart restarts later, but it really doesn't erase what happened.

"I don't kill."

Tim scoffed.

"Just because a man doesn't die at that moment, doesn't mean he won't die later if he's left for dead.

"Jason is going to make you choose between him and the Joker. You're going to save the Joker. And Jason? Because he's no longer how you remember him? He's going to be left with so many injuries caused by you. And you'd want no one helping him, because you don't believe that the Jason that came back is even him anymore. Ergo, an indirect killing, Batman."

Tim glares at Alfred. "I don't fucking care if you're on Bruce's side." Then, he snarls at Dick, "And I don't fucking care if you know Bruce more than I do!"

"I don't give a damn that Jason hunted me down for some twisted revenge or some shit.

"But here's what I do care about: I worked too hard in making sure that the idea of Batman doesn't get tarnished. I'm Robin now. I'm here because I believe you need a Robin. And I'm going to do my fucking job of being your leash if it's the last thing I do!"

Bruce is just fucking standing there.

Tim wants to rip that cowl off.

He already went through sooooo many heartbreaking conversations with Bruce in his old life. Why does he have to go through this again?! Did Jason and Bruce not talk about this with each other in the other timeline?! Does Tim have to bridge their relationship and mediate like he does when Dick comes to visit?

Fuck this life.

Ahhhh, Tim misses his husbands so much, why couldn't they regress back in time with him?

After a few moments, Bruce.

Fucking.

He fucking leaves!

Tim gapes, he glances to Dick with his disbelief clear on his face, and then he grabs a pillow and screams into it.

Fuck. Fuck-fuckity-fuck-fuck.

Tim is soooooo not doing this anymore. He's 16 again, c'mon! He doesn't even feel any of his joint pains (which may be because of the anesthesia, but whatever.)

Tim turns to Dick with a grim expression.

"Call Superman," he says. "And Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhunter. Heck, even call Green Lantern and Flash."

"Why?" he asks.

This motherfucker even had the gall to be confused.

"Because you're the Justice League's eldest child that they raised together as a village," Tim says slowly, as if he's talking to a preschooler. "Let's not give a fuck about the 'no metas in Gotham' rule, and start giving a fuck about all we could accomplish by letting so many adultier adults help us."

Thank Billy Batson Dick nods.

"We're gonna save Jason?"

Tim shrugs, lies down, and tugs his blanket over his whole body. "I don't give a fuck about Jason, Dick."

"Wha--"

"I just care about making sure that Batman doesn't turn into a villain to his own children. He's already fucked up so bad with you, Dick. We gotta make sure he doesn't fuck up any more, especially when Bruce wants to bring Jason home some time later when he stops being an ass."

Tim makes a mental note to make sure that Bruce doesn't get any mind control technology on his hands either.

He hears Dick sigh, slide his chair back, and probably stand up.

"I'll be back," he says softly.

Tim grunts like the true bat-child he is.

Finally, Dick leaves.

Unfortunately, Alfred was still here.

In the previous timeline... Tim never got a heart to heart with Alfred about all the things the man did and didn't do. And he thought he moved on but...

This is the man who gave him the Robin suit first. This is the man who he helped take dishes away from the table every time Dick and Bruce gets onto their violent screaming matches. This is the man who everyone put on the pedestal, but is Tim's equal in everything regarding Bruce's wellbeing.

And it hurt. It hurt so much when only Tim is witness to all of this man's flaws.

°°°°°°°°°°

Aaaaand then I got nothing else to add. I have no idea where I was going with this but here is the culmination of my hatred for Batman, my disenchantment with Alfred, and my need for Tim to scream his heart out because, no. Tim did not die contentedly. He did not actually die a natural death of old age. And the only hope for the future he has is of him meeting up with Kon and Bernard in heaven while everything else on earth can crash and burn for all he cares.

Hello!!!! I'm so glad you shared this and for the compliments. It makes me really happy to see people sharing their AUs. It kind of feels like a community project? People will reblog or do asks for different AUs, so lots of people end up contributing. I love that this is the direction this blog has taken.

As far as what you've shared? Positively beautiful. Fuck Bruce, Tim deserves the chance to scream, and I agree about Alfred. I love that man.... but only some versions of him. What he did to Tim was foul, and his tendency to just stand aside (to not stop Bruce) is horrid. Fuck that bystander shit.

For your time travel AU, I love that he died peacefully and old before being thrown into the hell that was his childhood again. Even worse, it's during Titan's Tower, so he can't change anything that leads up to that. He's thrown smack into the thick of all the drama and bullshit.

Also, rip Tim's relationships in the AU. Unless his husbands got transported back in time with him, he wouldn't be able to fall in love with them. He'd look at their younger selves and see them as the children they are (and the kid he no longer feels like).

To add onto that, he might feel older than Bruce too. If Bruce is 35 ish in this and Tim was like 70, he probably sees Bruce as a grown adult who's also a baby. That man needs to get his shit together, but gods is he so fucking young and stupid.

Special parts I loved:

Fish loving Tim more than Aquaman

Tim going from hard-earned decent relationships with his family to the sewage of his Robin years

The acknowledgement that Tim was Alfred's equal on taking care of Bruce (and how much that betrayal hurt)

Jason actually dying when his throat was cut (that's my hc too)

Tim immediately getting the JL involved

I would so be down with exploring this AU more. Your writing is also fantastic!

[kumquats-are-gay]

sparing with Johnny, and you pin him down only to find that he's rock hard, maybe some teasing/sex? idk idk

(TF YOU MEAN “idk”?? THIS PROMPT IS HEAT AND I’M ‘BOUTTA COOK!! 🔥💯😤)

Johnny Cage x gn!reader (SFW/NSFM)

NOTE: This will be a two-parter because I just couldn't wait to post what I had already, lmao. This first part only has sexual themes and foreplay, while the second part will have actual smut (also, while this first part is totally GN, the second part will be mentioning afab anatomy, but I will still be using GN pronouns). I'm sorry this took so long to get to; I've been working almost every day for the past two weeks and ya girl is tired, lol. Was super excited to write for this though! :D

ALSO I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE HOW ACTUAL FIGHTING WORKS I JUST MADE SHIT UP LMAO PLS DON'T COME AT ME

Pasted straight from Google Docs and NOT proofread, so please excuse any grammatical/continuity errors/syntax and formatting. I am also still VERY much an amateur writer so pls go easy on me <3

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51869623

Come On With a Come-on

         For a ‘professional’, Johnny Cage is about the least professional person you’ve ever met. Propriety must be a foreign concept to him with how frequently he flirts with you, especially on set—you know, in front of all of your colleagues and crew? The man was shameless in his relentless pursual of you, like a goddamn dog with a bone. And worst of all? You liked it, and this fact frustrated you to no end. 

         How could you possibly be attracted to someone who is so insufferably arrogant, loud-mouthed, and impossibly far up his own ass? An ass that, admittedly, you find yourself staring at whenever you think he isn’t looking. But, because you’re an actual professional, you’ve rebuffed his every attempt to seduce you thus far. Plus, you had a reputation to keep and dignity to hold onto; you weren’t sullying either when the likely outcome would involve your face and name on countless tabloids. 

         Without warning, his stupid, smug, and incredibly handsome smile invades your mind, and you suddenly find yourself wanting nothing more than to punch it off of his unfairly chiseled jaw.

         …or maybe kiss it off.

         “Grah!” you abruptly shout while burying your hands in your hair, momentarily tugging at the roots in annoyance. God, you had a problem. 

         Bzzt.

         “Huh?” You look down at your hip where your phone had just buzzed in your pocket. You pull it out and flick your finger across the screen to unlock it, then tap on the messaging icon.

         Johnny Cage: Hey, wanna spar later? 👊👊

         You raised a brow. You and Johnny worked in the same sphere for a reason. Action films were your guys’ bread and butter since the both of you knew how to fight as well as do your own stunts. 

         You and Johnny hung out casually here and there, but the two of you had never sparred before. You sensed an opportunity in his proposal, though: an effective way to get your frustration out on the source of said frustration. Shrugging, you figure, ‘why not?’

         You: Yeah, I’m down. But I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into b/c I won’t be holding back!

         Johnny: Woah, don’t go threatening me with a good time ;) 

         Your stomach twirled in unbidden delight at the cheeky response, and you internally chastised yourself for being so easily affected by this man. You and Johnny sorted out the details of your meetup—his place, late afternoon—and returned your phone to your pocket. You would just have to kill some time until then.

~~~

         “Of course you would have your own gym, and of course it’s fuckin’ huge,” you joked with a bit of sarcasm, yet enough lightheartedness as to not offend. Though, you doubt Johnny could be so easily offended; he’s got way too much self-confidence (for better or for worse) to be put down that easily.

         “Oh, honey, you haven’t seen ‘huge’ yet,” he boasted with a smirk. The wink that followed did nothing to abate the heat that was slowly taking over your body, but you did your best not to let the effects show. Since when were easy, immature innuendos such a turn on for you? You just closed your eyes and shook your head.

         “Alright, I am definitely knocking you on your ass for that one.”

         “Hah, see if you can, sweetheart!”

         The two of you stood in your  respective corners and took your stances. One quick little countdown later, and the game was on. 

        You knew Johnny was a very good fighter being a martial arts expert and all, but you didn’t realize he was that good. In all honesty, you figured he was more bark than bite, and that you’d have no real problem going toe-to-toe with him. Unfortunately, it seems like you may have underestimated him. It turns out that Johnny Cage was one of the rare few you had met who could back up their arrogance. Bully for you.

        Furthermore, this shithead was fighting dirty! Well, okay—technically he wasn’t fighting dirty. He was just talking after all, and there’s nothing wrong or “illegal” with that. But it was a dirty tactic regardless, and it only infuriated you further with how helpless you were to try and block him out.

        You pivot sharply on one foot and  use the momentum to lift and swing the other around, aiming the kick at his head. You expect him to duck under such a high-reaching maneuver—maybe he’d follow up with a low sweep with your single foot planted on the ground—so you prepare yourself to counter this. See, before you went into acting, fighting was your primary activity; you won many tournaments and managed to make a decent living off of it. One of the main things you were known for were your notoriously powerful kicks; few would risk trying to outright block them rather than moving out of the way.

         You must have forgotten who you were up against; that was the only reasonable explanation for your short-sightedness. You were not distracted by him or anything like that, thank you very much. Johnny-fucking-Cage just lifts an arm and grabs your leg. With one hand. Like it was nothing.

         The impact creates a loud smack! that briefly leaves you dumbfounded; you felt the force of that blow against his palm, and it was enough to leave the skin there tingling unpleasantly. Johnny didn’t look phased in the least bit with a crooked smile dancing across his handsome features, just gripping your ankle. Casually. Like you weren’t currently being held in the near-vertical splits.

         Johnny took this fleeting opportunity to give you a quick once-over, and his smile only grew. “Nice legs,” he quipped, “bet they’d look a lot nicer over my shoulders.” You openly gaped at his brazenness, and he used your shock to his advantage, flipping you in one fell swoop. You grunted when your back hit the mat underneath you, but the heat that overwhelmed your person (caused by your anger and fury, obviously) had you back up in a flash.

         “Best two out of three,” you nearly seethed. Johnny had the audacity to appear as anything but intimidated. In fact, he seemed rather amused.

         “You know, you’re like, really hot when you’re mad.”

         You nearly flung yourself at him in a mindless bout of rage, but caught yourself only a split moment before you could make such a devastating mistake. A delightful idea quickly sprang to mind—two could play at this game. 

         You kept up the facade of indignation and outrage in order to trick Johnny into thinking that you actually were going to make that blind charge at him. You stepped off of your dominant foot, using the momentum to make a lunge for him. He braced himself to counter your head-on attack, but you feigned right at the last possible second, swiftly gripped his shoulder with your left hand, and brought your right leg in against the back of his knee to buckle it. Johnny was quick to recover, though, keeping enough of his balance to twist and grapple with you as his leg nearly gave out. 

         Ah, so it was time for plan B.

         Before he could finish off the move, you brought your face right up to his, making sure that the two of you were making eye contact, and looked at him with sensual purpose. It was almost enough to disarm him, so to ensure you had the upper hand, you threw him another curveball with a breathy, “I wonder if you fuck as good as you fight.” 

         That did the trick. Johnny’s mind was sent reeling with your seemingly out-of-pocket comment, and you jumped at the chance to knock him flat on his ass. Johnny got the wind knocked from him as he landed with a resounding thump. Not wasting a minute, you straddled yourself across his hips and held his wrists against the floor mat. While Johnny had more raw strength than you, you hoped that the KO would leave him dizzy enough to keep him subdued.

         “Ha! Gotcha!” you barked out in triumph. Johnny just blinked up at you in a daze as his response. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the taste of your own medi-” you had cut yourself off when you felt something stiff beneath your pelvis. ‘What…? Wait, is he…’

         “Are you hard right now?!” you squawked incredulously. Johnny just shrugged his shoulders and gave you an audacious smirk, as if to say, ‘Uh, yeah I guess so. What about it?’ You were flabbergasted. “I can not believe you right now!” You released his wrists and made to get up, but he grabbed your hips before you could get away. Damn it, his body was so warm, and…holy shit he felt big.

         “Woah now, hang on just a tick,” he spoke like he was trying to soothe a startled horse. This fucking asshole! Why, just why did you have to fall for him? “It is very difficult not to pop a boner when I’m getting up close and personal to the most gorgeous person I know,” he spoke with an immense amount of charm and a surprising measure of sincerity. Your eyes widened comically before you squinted at him with a healthy amount of suspicion. 

         “Oh, really now? And I don’t suppose you’ve used that line with every other person you’ve taken to bed, hm?”

         Johnny just sighed like he was the exasperated one here. “Darling, I’ve been laying it on thick for half a year now. There’s no way I’d still be after you just to get into your pants.” He looked at you with this sort of ‘duh’ expression on his face, like he couldn’t possibly understand your confusion. “I mean, don’t get me wrong: you’ve got just the kind of body that I love,” he added, and you nearly clocked him then and there, but you relaxed again as he spoke further, “but I’ve come to really like spending time with you. There’s never a day that I don’t look forward to working with you on set, you know.” And, just like that, you felt like the stupidest person on the planet for denying yourself something that you evidently could have had for a long time now. 

         You hung your head low and shook it from side to side in disappointment of yourself. You fool. You buffoon. You absolute imbecile. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Johnny took this the wrong way, looking offended, and opened his mouth to say something. However, you were quick to shut him up with a short yet firm kiss of which he wasted no time in returning. He ground his hips against yours in short, desperate thrusts like there would never be another chance to do so, and you eagerly mirrored his movements like they might be your last. Without warning, he rolled the two of you over to flip your positions. Sprawled out beneath him with your hands held beneath his own, Johnny thought you looked like a dream.

         “By the way, I think you’ll find that not only do I fuck as good as I fight, but I fuck like I fight, too—hard n’ fast,” he intoned in a voice nearly an octave deeper. 

         You squirmed in anticipation at his words, and retorted with equal huskiness, “let’s see it then.”

[violet-moonstone]

THW Rewrite

More headcannons because I have not been able to stop thinking about this franchise for the past 13 years, and I have over a decade's worth of opinions.

I've already posted some of these ideas but ehh it's fine.

While I enjoyed watching it for the first time, THW was disappointing to me for a variety of reasons. (The music was probably the best out the franchise though, I'll say that) Grimmel didn't reach his full villain potential since the writers used Ruffnut's lack of judgment as his key to success instead of him being a capable strategist. (Also they did my girl so dirty. She may be a dumbass, but she's not an idiot!) I don't like that the dragons left after just 6 years. I don't like that all the riders except for Hiccup and Astrid are just played for laughs instead of shining like they do in RTTE. I don't like whatever the hell Snotlout's obsession with Valka was, and I didn't like Toothless' "romance" with the Light Fury. I hate that even dragons can't escape half-developed romance and a nuclear family as the ultimate character accomplishment.

So here are my edits (looking back, there's quite a bit going on, so it may need to be split into 2 movies or a short TV series)

The time jump happens between movies 2 and 3. (I want a full movie with bearded Hiccup and "Homecoming" does NOT count) 10-15 years have passed, so the riders are about 30-35. Zephyr and Nuffink are either little kids or preteens and are getting to an age where they're starting to train dragons.

Astrid is more rough around the edges like she was in HTTYD 1 and Rob/Dob/RTTE, not just Hiccup's supportive gf/wife. Instead of making her softer, motherhood has made her fiercer because she has more people to protect. Hiccup on the other hand is a doting father and can't say no to the kids if they give him puppy dog eyes: heart melted every time.

Toothless finds his original flock(?)/herd?/murder?/unkindness?/parliament? of Night Furies instead of just one "soulmate". Each can have their own personalities and roles in the group while Toothless is the baby. I think it would be interesting if, like Hiccup, Toothless was quite small compared to his peers - potentially explaining why he was on his own and got separated from the group before meeting Hiccup.

Dagur and Heather are brought into a council meeting as Berserker allies. Hiccup greets them in a way that clarifies things for audience members who haven't watched the show. I suppose Mala would also be in it too. I don't dislike Mala but I hate her and Dagur's relationship. More development needed there.

Gustav should be there too, still very much trying to prove himself as a dragon rider and occasionally messing things up.

In terms of the main plot and villains, I'm not too picky, although I've said before that I'm tired of dragon mind-control being the main villain tool. I'm fine with it if Drago comes back as the villain, but if not, the villain should just be dragon hunters or rival dragon riders who use their dragons for conquering/raiding other settlements.

It can hit pretty much hit the same story beats as before but with better character dynamics.

Make Ruff and Tuff more instrumental to mischief and redirection in a way that helps the plot.

Give Fishlegs more credit for his discoveries and record-keeping about dragons.

Snotlout and Eret are together (or implied to be together if that's the best we can get). Snotlout is also no longer Hiccup's rival - he should be his second in command. They can disagree from time to time, but ultimately, his loyalty is not in question.

Fishlegs and Ruffnut have kids who cause chaos with Zephyr and Nuffink.

It would be cool to include a couple characters from other parts of the world with dragon mythology. I understand that Vikings are white but if we have goddamn flying dragons, there's no reason there can't be visitors from other cultures (who aren't villains).

Ending option 1: The movie can end with the dragons going away, but now they've been with the Berkians for over a decade and it just feels more impactful.

The "there were dragons when I was a boy" line can either be Hiccup talking to his grandson after an even longer time jump, or Nuffink talking to his own kids about Hiccup's adventures.

Ending 2: the Berkians go to The Hidden World with the dragons. Hiccup writes a memoir to leave behind. We hear him reading from it at the beginning and assume that means dragons are going to leave, but it's actually a diversion to make people think dragons are gone so no one tries to look for them.

Ending 3: We accept that HTYYD takes place in a different world so we don't have to explain why dragons don't live among us anymore. The movie ends with Hiccup vowing to make the archipelago safe for all dragons and Nuffink and Zephyr take up the mantle of discovering new dragons. The dragons stay and they all live happily ever after, the end :)

I'm tempted to actually write this as a fanfiction but I already got a lot of writing projects atm. We shall see.

edit: I'm writing it

[isthe-protag-cluelesstho]

Okay, probably not a hot take, but imma scribble about it anyway,

I honestly think Cale Hetinuse/Kim Rok Soo has chronic pain/fatigue.

Like, everybody loves the whole coughing up blood/wet meow meow thing he's always doing, but personally? People who are that nonchalant about Shit Happening To Their Body, are typically people who are waaaaay too used to Fucked Up Shit Happening To Their Body,

It's just a head canon, but as someone who is chronically in pain, I absolutely do some of the stupid shit CH/KRS does, like carrying stuff I should NOT be carrying, or continuing to Do Things even when I should be sitting and resting. I also know several people who (like me) can be experiencing level 4-5 pain and not show a hint on their face/through their actions besides maaaaybe moving a bit slower/stretching more

And we know KRS has been on his own since he was itty bitty... And then he grew up in a world hell bent on killing everyone. I can't help but think that a tiny child with no one to help him with the general cuts/bruises/little hurts of childhood would 1) have zero frame of reference for what "okay" actually looks like 2) probably has never really received medical care beyond emergency assistance (which does jack for chronic conditions) and 3) has NEVER really had someone in his life long enough for them to catch his way of coping with pain (my very close friends can hear when I'm hurting/tired, everyone else only notices if I am visibly incapacitated)

So, Kim Rok Soo ends up in a world/body that "technically" hasn't experienced his life, HOWEVER fibromyalgia and PTSD are like goddamn pb&j. It's a condition that is deeply tied to a body's stress response. And what does Cale say once he has the Heart? "I feel BETTER"

And that just speaks to me of a person who is so used to pain, that it no longer really registers... I had daily headaches for 7 years, it wasn't until I moved and got a new primary that I found out that more than 4 headaches in a month was considered a concern... I got on some migraine meds and actually stopped having that daily headache, something id just accepted as "how my body works" gone,

I personally don't consider pain at a 1-2 as particularly bothersome, it's more like a general annoyance. Onces it's up to 6-7 it's hard for me to move, and yet I often will still do so, despite the pain. It's only at 9-10 so I stop moving entirely and focus on just weathering it. Usually when that happens, I sleep so much after as my body tries to recover.

And when I read Cale, so casually continuing forward, despite the work he takes on himself, after the constant planning and prepping and ass kicking, all I see is a person who has lived so long with his body's suffering that it's just background noise. Yeah, he coughed up some blood, but the pain is back to "normal" so how can he raise a fuss? He killed 3 monsters with a dislocated shoulder that one time, this? This is easy. And despite claiming his body is weak, he refuses to truly accept the help and rest he needs because (like I used to) Cale thinks "this is just how my body works"

Sometimes, I cannot remember how I lived prior to my pain. Sometimes, I cannot imagine a world where I do not spend half the night attempting to force my muscles to relax, so I can actually sleep. I cannot imagine a world where I am able to do everything I want in a day and not collapse at the end. And I see so much of myself in how Cale continues to move despite the weight of the ancient powers, the expectations of the gods and his own personal hopes. He seems like a character doomed to continue walking, his bones broken but refusing the care because whats the point if everything still hurts the same way in the end?

Anyway, Raon should invent a cure for chronic illness and force Cale into a year long sabbatical

[saltsicklover]

Part Eight

Hey lovely people, here's another update for you! There might be a little bit of a wait for the next part, as this is pretty much everything I've had back written. I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2500+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, Tobacco, Smoking, the Daggers not knowing a damn thing about Bob.

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Once Hangman and Phoenix stop yelling over each other, Bob doesn't bother trying to unshrink from himself. Hangman finally walked away, red in the face and angry. He wanted to hit Bob, he really did, but he knew better than to hit a fellow Aviator in the Hard Deck. So, to keep his fits at bay, he turned on his heel and headed for the front door- he needed to take a walk. That walk turned into red taillights shining through the windows of the Hard Deck, tires squealing as he took off. 

Phoenix pulled herself up into one of the stools, the tension of her body wearing on her muscles. Bob slides up next to her, still curled in on himself. The pair sit in silence, the bustle of the bar filling the air around them. The jukebox plays some off-radio country song that Bob catches bits and pieces of as the noise from the crowd ebbs and flows. 

It makes him think of her, how she still invades the pieces of his life the same way the song reaches his ears. Just when he hasn't thought of her, the memory of her would cross his mind again. And just a half a hour ago, she was standing right in front of him and he didn't even recognize her. That kills him. It makes all of the yelling he endured feel justified. 

"I can't believe this," Natasha's voice is quiet now, her fingertips buried in the slicked back hair of her bun. "Goddamn it Bob! How am I supposed to bring her back to our place now? How am I supposed to ask her to come back to a place that is basically yours- I'm just sleeping in your fucking guest room,"

Bob opens his mouth to try and argue that the house is just as much hers as it is his, even though it's not technically true. He owns the house, hell, he owns a house outside of each base he has been stationed at. The moment he was no longer bound to the barracks with in processing, he went out and purchased something. A new home that never quite felt right. His pockets have always been lined with money from his Father's oil business- not that any of his fellow Aviators knew that fact. 

It was easy to keep that secret, since no one really asked about him anyway. And when he moved Natasha in, he conveniently failed to mention that the house was paid off.  She didn't ask, and he liked it that way. Just another way he could put space between the person he used to be and the person he is becoming. The person he is now is a work in quiet progress- at least it was until Sunny walked into the bar tonight. 

"Oh my God, Sunny, I've been in here yelling at you instead of going after her!" Phoenix is disappointed in herself as she speaks, "God, Bob, you know I care about you, right? You're my back seater and I will continue doing everything in my power to make sure you make it home each day, but, I can't even stand to look at you right now. I've gotta go find Sunny,"

Natasha doesn't even make it two steps towards the door before Bob speaks.  

"Rooster followed her out," He hooks a thumb behind him, gesturing to the back door, "They went that way, and I-" Bob's eyes glaze over with tears, anger bubbling inside of him at the thought of his fellow Aviator out with her. 

"What is it?" Phoenix asks, her voice softer than it had been all night.

"If I hadn't lost her before, I sure have now," 

Phoenix moves to Bob's side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You and I are going to talk tonight, about everything," She gives it a reassuring squeeze with as much emotion as she can muster before she is out the back door, leaving Bob alone in the crowded bar. 

For the first time since he started hanging out at the Hard Deck, Bob reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his silver cigarette case. He plucks one of the small Cigarillos from the confines of the case, placing it between his teeth. With the strike of a match he lights the cigar; the smell of cherry tobacco permeates the air around him. The nicotine fills his lungs, and yet, he feels no less heavy.  

---

"You know what really gets me?" Sunny mutters, a weak smile pulling over her lips. She leans her head back against Rooster's shoulder, sticky trails of past shed tears still damp on her cheeks. She balances an elbow on her knee, her hand coming up to brush over her brow. "God, it's so stupid," 

"What's that?" Bradley gives her elbows a small squeeze, encouraging her to continue. 

"He didn't even smell like himself," Her words are quiet but so sure, yet she speaks them with a shake of her head. She tries to dismiss them the moment they leave her lips, slightly ashamed that she admitted that fact to a stranger. 

"What do you mean?" Bradley leans a little, craning his neck to try and get a look at her face. He takes her hand from her brow, giving him a better look at her face now that she isn't hiding behind her hand. He gives it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

"Bobby, he-" A small sniffle breaks her sentence apart, "He has always smelled exactly like the tobacco he smokes, you know? It's cherry and smokey and full and God, that fucking smell gets me every single time, and yet, he- it wasn't-" Sunny attempts to keep more crying at bay, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. She lays her other hand over Bradley's shin, her nails digging into the light fabric of his jeans. 

Bradley knows he shouldn't ask, but the confusion of the whole situation causes the words to leave his lips faster than his brain can stop them. 

"Bob smokes?" 

The question causes the loose hiccup of a sob to morph into a giggle, the whole thing sounding rather painful to Bradley, but a Sunny's lips quirk up in the corners. 

"We are talking about the same person, right?" Sunny asks, wiping her her cheeks with her fingertips, "Bob Floyd, ladies man, notoriously rude but hard working so people tend to look past it, always walking around with the smell of tobacco caked to his clothes, that Bob Floyd?" 

"I don't think we are talking about the same Bob Floyd, here Sunshine," Bradley admits, a light hint of laughter in his tone. 

"Yeah, I'm starting to put that together," Sunny almost grumbles, her demeanor slumping along with her body. 

"Hey, am I interrupting something?" Phoenix's voice breaks through the solitude Sunny and Bradley had found themselves in. Her words come out a bit apprehensively, unsure of how Sunny is going to take her presence. 

"No, not at all," Bradley chimes in, squeezing the tops of Sunny's arms. She takes the cue, scootching herself forward and away from his embrace. Bradley pulls himself from the ground, "Take my place, I think you guys need to talk," 

He moves past Phoenix, a small, knowing smile on his face. He gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passes her, one that Natasha answers with a small upturn of her lips. She moves into the spot Rooster had just been occupying, sitting Sunny between her legs and pulling her friend back into her own chest. 

"I see Bradley's mothering instincts got to you, too," Phoenix starts, feeling out the situation, "He has sat with me like this too. It was something his Mother used to do with him after his Father died. I think it's the only way he knows how to comfort some-," 

"I owe you an apology," Sunny's cuts her friend off, leaning just a bit away from her chest. 

"What? No. I owe you and apology!" Natasha counters, grabbing at Sunny's shoulders. 

"How could you have possibly known that your back seater is the man who broke my heart, huh?" Sunny laughs a small, tired laugh. Tears would run down her face if she hadn't been to dehydrated to cry. "I was the one who freaked out- God, I never thought I would see him again. I was purposely planning on avoiding the class reunion just so I wouldn't have to- I just, I should've been more adult about the situation. I feel like such an idiot."

Sunny hugs her knees to her chest, laying her chin atop them. Natasha rubs her friend's back carefully, her touch gentle over the exposed skin. She isn't quite sure what to say, so she just keeps reassuring Sunny that she isn't an idiot, no matter if she felt like one. 

Phoenix goes over the sleeping arrangements in her head, Sunny was supposed to be in the empty bedroom across from her own, the guest bedroom that just to happened to share a jack and jill bathroom with Bob's. 

When they moved in, he insisted that she take the master bedroom, claiming something about how women need more space. Nat found it ridiculous at the time, the dated concept no doubt having come from the mouth of his Mother as justification for his sister having the larger bedroom as children. But, since it worked in her favor, she didn't argue. The arrangement hadn't posed a problem until now. 

"I can practically hear you thinking," Sunny chimes in, tapping the hands that sit on her own shoulders. Natasha shakes her head, lacing Sunny's fingers with her own. 

"I am just-" Natasha takes a deep breath, bringing her forehead to rest on Sunny's shoulder, "I don't want to bring you back to my place now... Bob and I live together and I don't want to make things worse for you," 

"Nash, I am a big girl," A little low laugh escapes Sunny's lips, "Most of the time, at least. I can be civil. I didn't throw my drink on him, now did I?" 

Natasha laughs at that, the sound a bit strangled as it leaves her throat. 

"It's either that or you go stay with Hangman," Natasha jokes, her tone a bit too straight. 

"I think that man might lose his mind if I am inside of his house," Sunny tightens her grip on Nat's hand, squeezing her fingers. "And I think the Navy would be pretty mad to find out that one of their Aviators died because a woman was sleeping in the next room," 

"You're totally right," There is a sort of joy in Natasha's voice now, "I'd of offered to make Rooster take you, but I'm not making you sleep on his awful couch, that is a special form of punishment," 

Sunny pushes herself up from Natasha's grasp. When she gets to her feet she turns to look at Natasha, a small smile on her lips. That was a look Natasha was happy to share with her friend, a smile of her own on her lips. 

"Then lets get going home, okay? I desperately need a shower. I feel like I look like someone just found me dead in a river with all this crying. I can practically feel how swollen my face is," Sunny runs her hands under her eyes, trying to wipe away the feeling of the sticky trails of tears that have dried to her skin.  

"You are the most beautiful corpse I've ever seen," Natasha winks, taking Sunny's outstretched hands. She pulls Nat up from the sand, neither of them bothering to brush the sand from their clothes. 

They head around the outside of the building, arms link together. "I need to grab my bag from the back of Jake's truck, then we can head out, I'll order a rideshare to come pick us up," Sunny speaks as the round the corner to the parking lot. 

"Oh god," Nat wipes her hand down her face, another large sigh escaping her lips. "Hangman left a while ago, pissed beyond belief and God only knows where he is now. I doubt he is at home, probably off at some Civ Bar, drinking up a storm. I'll call him, but you probably won't get your bag back until tomorrow," 

"Fuck, okay," Sunny sounds defeated. 

"Hey, ladies!" Rooster's voice breaks through the breeze. He is leaned up against a large blue Toyota Bronco, arms crossed over his chest. The tear stains are still lightly visible on his shirt, but it has been tucked back in. "Your chariot awaits!" 

Natasha shoots a look to Sunny, both shrugging before making their way to Rooster. Sunny lets out a large yawn, her hands coming up to shield her face. 

"Hey, Rooster, I've gotta call Hangman and see if we can track down Sunny's bag, do you mind hanging out a minute?"

"Not at all, Phoenix, not at all," He smiles widely at the pair, "How you feeling, Sunshine?"

"I'm livin' the dream," Sunny speaks through another yawn, her eyelids beginning to droop. 

"Want to climb in the back and lay down until we can get the situation with your bag sorted out?" Bradley opens the door, gesturing in with a wave of his hand. Sunny turns to see Natasha dialing her phone again, pacing back and fourth just a few feet away.

"Sounds like a plan," Sunny moves towards Rooster, taking his outstretched hand. She grabs onto the rail inside the door with her other before hoisting herself into the large vehicle. She moves around the folded down front seat before practically throwing herself against the bench in the back. 

"Close your eyes, Sunshine. You deserve a rest. I'll wake you when we get to where we are going. For now, I'm gonna wrangle Phoenix and then we will head out, okay?" Rooster places a kind hand on the ankle of her boot. All Sunny can do is nod, a makeshift sound of agreeance coming from behind her closed lips. 

She tucks a hand underneath her head before drifting off, her other hand resting over her stomach. Bradley slides the front seat back so Natasha can slide herself in before he waves her over. 

"Any luck?" He asks her, the breeze caressing his skin. He runs a hand through his hair, messing the already unkempt curls atop his head. 

"No," Natasha joins Rooster's side, looking at Sunny curled up in the back seat. "I guess we head home and I'll head to his place tomorrow and grab it from the truck myself. God knows where he ran off to tonight," 

Rooster agrees with a silent nod as Phoenix climbs into the passenger seat of the Bronco. She buckles her seatbelt hastily as Bradley climbs into the drivers side. He buckles his seatbelt as the engine roars to life, the whole vehicle shaking a bit. The group pulls of of the parking lot, headed towards Bob and Natasha's house. 

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 S03E20 And the Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place previous episode - table of contents

It's kinda wild how much b5 is exactly to my tastes. Take this (and many other!) episode titles for example. Pretentious? Maybe. Poetic? Certainly. Full of allusion? Definitely. Makes me get shivers? Absolutely.  They even give me things to complain about. I'm well settled into complaining loudly about Londo bullshit.

Last episode's beverage (for data point purposes) was straight tequila with pepsi chaser. The hangover was vile and I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep for three hours. Today's beverage - Bitterroot Brewing Co "Dirt Church" ipa. It's alright for an IPA.

"Z MINUS 14 DAYS"

I see we've moved several letters on from "t."

Yeah!! It's another Susan Ivanova personal log episode. The telepaths they've recruited are being dispersed. Sheridan is tired, and Franklin is still pacing the halls. 

All the telepaths are being accompanied by a single Narn bodyguard. Fingers crossed for some of those bodyguards to start developing some telepathy of their own after spending a long time in close quarters with a telepath!!

Londo thinks it's time to "take care of" G'Kar?? FUCK OFF.  He wants G'Kar tricked back to Narn and executed. Thanks to the previous flashbacks, I am well aware that this plot won't play out with G'Kar's actual death. But I still want to strangle Londo. Can I isekai into B5 just long enough to goddamn murder that man?? 

Religious Theo of the religious group whatevever is being highlighted this episode. In theory I appreciate how diverse B5 is, religiously speaking. In practice....ehhh. At least when it comes to people quoting the KJV and referring to "the lord" every other sentence. 

Sheridan does look rough. And there's Delenn!!! Pretty in pink. 

"[Ivanova] said you were carrying on cranky. I looked up cranky, it said grouchy. I looked up grouchy, it said crochetly. No wonder you have such an eccentric culture. None of your words have their own meaning!" 

LOL!! Delenn is so cute. Also, very seriously, I apologize to every person who needs to learn English as an adult. It's a mess. 

Once I saw a gif of Delenn propping herself up on a elbow in bed with Sheridan and I have been FERAL to see that scene ever since. Maybe today will be the episode? Delenn climbs in bed with Sheridan to make him sleep??

Na'Toth might be alive. Or her name might simply be a trap for G'Kar. I don't think Londo's plan is going to work out. If he didn't go back to Narn for literally every other Narnuan, I'm not sure he'd go back for his aide who is probably dead. Also I 100% have more faith in Vir than this. Idk where he got them, but he has a surprisingly well-developed set of morals and empathy. 

Vir: "I won't. I won't go. I won't do it."

VIR BABY. Just say you'll do it, then go and collude and G'Kar. Londo is unhinged, threatening to have Vir's family stripped naked and whipped through the streets of Centaur's capital. What a fuck. He ought to be directing his energies towards getting back Lord Whatshisface who killed Adira on behalf of the Shadows. Refa. The show reminds me in a timely manner. 

Speaking of Refa, he's giving very desperate vibes. Trying too hard to suck up, and that puts blood in the water for the sharks to scent!!

Well. Hopefully even if Vir gives into Londo's threat and tries to trick G'Kar, his obvious nerves give away that something's wrong. 

Back to Londo and the Centauri court shenanigans. Londo is, undeniably, good at putting on the type of political front that works well on Centaur. 

Susan's blowout is so good every day I have to assume it's part of the high-tech auto-dryer when you step out of the shower...or something. Because there's no way that SUSAN IVANOVA is spending twenty minutes every day achieving the most ideal blowout that has ever been hair-dried into existence. 

OK I like the religious cabal a bit better now that I know they're smuggling up-to-date information about Earth politics into Bably 5. 

GODDANG IT. G'Kar is trying to sneak back onto Narn. Well. At least I know he lives to die another day. 

Vir, I am disappointed in. 

Centaur attack on Vir!! He lives to become Emperor another day as well. Stakes drop considerably when you know certain characters' ultimate fates. 

You know who I'd love to see again? AUNT PROPHETESS! Majel!! 

Lord Refa's eyebrows deserve their own acting credit. 

oooh, Centauri telepathy attack!! 

Poor Vir. If only he had been able to keep his position on Minbar. He looked less stressed-out when he was spending most of his time surrounded by a tranquil environment. 

The Baptist pastor is hanging out with Sheridan, who is struggling to relax enough to fall asleep while also doing paperwork. Maybe. don't do paperwork while getting ready for bed. Which the pastor is also bringing up, more delicately than I would. 

the Pastor: DELEGATE IDIOT.

OK he can stay. He is speaking common sense. 

"When youre worry tank gets full people stop coming to you, because they don't want to add to it." 

Smart. "figure out how to relax or your people will stop reading you in in an attempt to protect you." 

"Z MINUS 13 DAYS"

Zha'ha'dum minus 13 days?? 

G'Kar made it to Narn. There's climate change from the orbital bombardment. Constant wind, particulate coming down from the upper atmosphere, poor air quality. And I doubt they had recovered from the previous Centauri occupation, and possibly not even the Shadows' occupation before that! 

Emperor Cartagia is going to be traveling to B5: that seems like a significant security risk! Maybe he'll get nerfed and we'll see the glorious ascension on Emperor Londo. 

Refa's plot is to capture G'Kar instead of letting Londo do it. Fingers crossed for neither of them getting that glory. 

Delenn says there's no pattern to the Shadows' attacks. The lack of pattern is probably the point - all over the place and unpredictable so the united forces are spread as thin and widely as possible. And the tactical data sorta supports that! They haven't attacked anything in the center of the sector, so refugees are going there. And Sheridan is picking this up now, too. They could nail all the refugees at once. 

"I think this is as much about terror as it is about territory." 

Yeah. 

Hm, Delenn is horrified by Sheridan saying he needs to think like them to beat them. Unless she has a really compelling argument against it, I'm going to have to disagree. How can you counter a tactic unless you understand it? 

Londo just knocked out a Centauri guard with a punch to rescue Vir. He gets no points from me, because he put Vir in that position. 

Unfortunately G'Kar won't get to kill Londo for quite a few years, but maybe he and the resistance will get to kill Refa and his goon squad instead. 

Damn it, Londo was two steps ahead of Refa this whole time. f.ucking annoying. Well. all Centauri warmongering genocidal politics are annoying. Refa being personally in charge of the bombardment of Narn is backfiring on his right now. 

Oh so this means that Vir was an unwitting stooge in the plot all along, and that's extra scummy, considering it resulted in Vir being mindraped and made to believe he'd just given up his mentor and employer. Very very cutthroat politics. No wonder Londo didn't name the embarassment he was planning to remove on behalf of the emperor to prove House Mollari's value. 

Baptist Pastor brought a gospel singer along with him, lol. That's very on brand. And super fucking amusing juxtaposition between her music and Refa being pursued and killed. "There's no hiding place down here." Refa being beaten to death. 

Buuuut as much as I dislike Londo, I am a fan of the person responsible for untold suffering and death getting a tiny fraction of that delivered back to them. So...annoyingly... *sigh* go Londo...

It's so fucking funny that Londo had the ability to slip refa the other half of the two-part poison all along but instead he had him beaten to death for political purposes. 

Vir is angry, but probably not enough to make him break from Londo entirely. 

Delenn has a surprise for Sheridan - "the White Star was never intended to be one of a kind, only the first..." and now there's a whole fleet. 

Hm. As far as first kisses on screen go, that one was pretty dated. I'm happy for them, but the "smear your face against the other person's face" is a style I'm glad has mostly gone away. It doesn't look very pleasant, hahah. 

Mrs Sheridan, I presume?

[bonefall]

what you’re doing with sparkpelt is really interesting :) any specific plans for better bones alderheart? 👀 i know he doesn’t do a whole lot in canon but i still have a soft spot for him…

[ID: Better Bones Alderheart. He is a dark ginger tabby with wide, scared amber eyes. His stripes are thin, blotchy, and he displays the characteristic 'raptor claws' of BB!Tigerkin.]

My favorite Canon Alderheart scene is when his best friend Velvet says, "Wow you're an anxious wreck, have some cat prozac anmd go home."

Admittedly, I am more interested in Sparkpelt My Beloved, but Alderheart is still important too! However, his POV is scrubbed from AVoS to rework it into a Kin-centric arc, and his perspective is contained completely in the SE Bramblestar's Thorns.

Design wise this one's prone to change, I'm not super satisfied with it. Those funny eyes are staying though. I'll eventually do his parents Jessy and Bramblestar and then re-visit this one.

His anxiety is a larger part of the character and this is not going away. I plan for him to actually medicate for this, there will eventually be an herb guide for anxiety, and a second one for depression.

He's a bit more snappish than in-canon, more tired. Prone to catastrophizing. He gets insomnia when he's particularly stressed.

When he was only a few months old, Jessy and Bramblestar had a massive cat divorce. Alder chose to stay with his mother, and was taken back to the big twolegplace close to the sea, Hengest. (Note: My map is reworked, I chose to move this twolegplace to this location. In-canon it is elsewhere.)

Kittypets have much reduced freedom compared to wildcats, so Jessy was very careful introducing her kit to her twoleg. Thankfully the twoleg readily accepted him, naming him "Louie" after a singer they like a lot.

His childhood best friend was Velvet, but he didn't have too many other friends besides his mother.

When he started to have visions, Louie really didn't want to go back. He wanted to stay with Jessy... but his 6th month was approaching, which is often a time of tumult for kittypets.

Many are brought to new homes at that age, or neutered. Jessy was frank with him that there was going to be uncertainty either way, and if he was taken, he may never have the chance to get to the bottom of his visions.

So... he went back to ThunderClan. She walked with him, confirming for herself that there was no returning. Though she misses her friends and the connectivity of Clan life, Sparkpaw was looking at her with barely-bitten back anger, and she was reminded of how bad her relationship with Bramblestar was.

Bramblestar changed his name from Louie to Alderpaw, the name he had at birth. Alderpaw wasn't fond of this, or the way it felt like Bramble wanted to erase his life up to this point.

Unlike canon, all of ThunderClan isn't goddamn horrible to Alder. He has a really strained relationship with Bramblestar, gets caught in the middle of Jayfeather's complicated feelings towards his ex-dad, and tries to rekindle his innocent closeness with his sister, but he has allies too.

He becomes very close with Lilyheart and Icecloud, in particular. (shuffled, now part of the post-Great Battle generation. Lily does not have kids, Larksong is combined with Hollytuft and is the child of Fallenleaf and Cinderheart.)

Sandstorm becomes one of his favorite elders,

Eventually, Alder ends up becoming the primary guardian of Twigkit. It felt wrong to watch her get separated from her sister the way he was, and he hoped he would be able to make her time growing up easier than his own.

A lot of this part I'm still working on. AVoS is definitely one of the harder arcs for me, imo, a lot of it is under construction.

He was a supporter of SkyClan's place at the lake, especially since this time, they helped to destroy the Kin. He faced accusations of only sympathizing with them because their ranks were full of kittypets like himself, though.

Alderheart eventually finds his place, confident from the support of his friends, beloved by Twigbranch and seen as her dad, having settled into a tense peace with his sister and father.

At the end of the SE, he has a final trip to Hengest with Sparkpelt, to gather catmint and other garden herbs.

He shows her places he's outgrown, she's open with him about feelings she's kept hidden about their mom, their dad, themselves.

They check in on their mom and see she's doing fine.

Eventually he visits with Velvet again, and she gifts him a juicy sprig of thyme to show she still keeps him close to her heart.

And that's what I've got for him, so far. I have a pretty 'neat' little bundle of story, hopefully it makes up for him no longer being a main character.

[papa-evershed]

If you're up for it, your top 3/top 5 hottest (RJC) characters (and why)? Based SOLELY on looks. Feel free to include gifs, if you have the time. Gotta say, Daniel became my #2 and is competing with Saul Silva for No.1 spot. I mean...Goddamn..🤤🍽️ Is Rob aging like a fine wine or do i just have daddy issues?

I think he's aging beautifully. Aging well doesn't only have to mean a lack of aging, but simply getting better as you do it, imo. When all the features of aging—wrinkles, greys, eye-bags, skin spots, etc, actually make a person look like a more beautifully seasoned version of their younger selves? That's aging well too.

As for Daddy issues, IDK, only you can decide for yourself if it's daddy related. 🤓 I ain't here to judge either way. Don't we all want a dad in the streets but a daddy in the sheets? 🤡

I'll put my top five under a cut! Not only just for the length but general cringe and possible thirst talk. So if that isn't someone's thing they can only blame themselves for continuing to read.

#1. Top honor is undoubtedly Daniel fucking Watson. Because speaking of aging beautifully, it's his most recent role so it was pretty much guaranteed to become my new favorite in terms of looks for that reason alone. I'm never going to be that person who is most thirsty for a role that happened fifteen years ago simply because I like men with some age on them. I want a whole ass man. I want the salt and pepper hair, I want the almost-white facial fuzz, I want the eye crinkles that cut deep towards his cheeks. That shit is sexy as fuck. If I wanted someone that looked like Timothy Chamomile I'd be out here giffing Willy Wonka.

And Daniel Watson is serving. The neck fuzz alone tickles the cave woman portion of my brain and makes me feral.

He just walks and moves and carries himself like A Man™ but not the sort that has so much swagger that it seems like they're over compensating. Important difference. A bit tired, a bit weary, just all the things I relate to a good, tired, dad. It feels natural and that's what makes it sexy. (Also the belly.)

And this show is finally giving us proper close-ups and beautiful profile shots. Like you said, based on looks alone, 1000/10. There's nothing to complain about. And another reason it's my new favorite—freckles! They aren't covering the freckles. I just like people's faces to look natural, is that so much to ask for?

The next four are probably interchangeable, it really just depends on my mood as far as who ranks above who. So don't put too much weight into the order, just know they'd round out my top five.

#2. Saul Silva. Specifically, season one Saul Silva though, because yes I'm still bitter about the hair dye. I realize it was likely bc of DA filming but I give not a single shit, I'll stay bitter about it until I die. Saul ranks this high for the same reasons as Daniel Watson really. A bit of grey, a bit of scruff, just looks natural and delicious.

^ That look is pure 🔥🔥 and anyone who attempts to claim otherwise (not that anyone ever has) is a lying liar that tells lies. Also, wardrobe is superior in Fate compared to a lot of his other roles. We got a good mixture of casual wear in addition to his little uniform.

(And also the belly.)

3. Hutch. That's it, that's all I have to say. Just Hutch.

It's a shame that he died but I get it. If I were some big monster I'd eat his ass first too. Literally and figuratively. 🫡

4. Martin Evershed! Can't leave off my boy Mr. Evershed. Again, for a lot of the same reasons as mentioned above. I prefer him recent. I prefer him with greys. I prefer him looking soft and delicious. What Ackley lacked in wardrobe it made up for in just indulging my Dad™ kink.

(And also the belly.)

#5. This fucker from Vera, Richard.

This role isn't talked about much, likely because it was small, but damn if he didn't look great. The scruff, the nose, the plain black tee? Fucking perfect.

(And of course, also the wee bit of belly. 🤠)

TLDR - I think he looks better the older he gets so my favorite roles tend to fall in line with that and I'm a cave troll that wants men to look as natural as I can get 'em.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Simon Flinches

Simon x gn!reader

Finally did it! And I looked at it so much that I hate it now, even went back in and changed some small words and stuff, but here you go. Take the flinching trope and make it Simon instead of reader flinching.

Warnings: panic attack, hurt/comfort, barely proofread because I'm too tired, reader being called "Sir" as a honorific not referring to the gender

Wordcount ~3k

You'd say you've gotten good at navigating the minefield that is Simon. You've been together a while by now and you've learned how to handle him so he feels safe and can be himself. It's been a long process that's far from over but you wouldn't have it any other way. Simon is worth all the time, all the effort. And if it means losing a limb in the process, crossing that minefield to get closer to him is worth it.

Simon would say he's gotten good at defusing the ticking bomb that he is. He's been with you for a bit now and he's learned how to trust you more, how to be vulnerable with you. His walls are lower than they’ve ever been and it has actually lead to good things.

But sometimes things don’t go as you want. No matter how hard you try, how carefully you try to navigate Simon. Sometimes just a tiny thing, a gesture, a word, makes everything explode, traps you in that minefield without knowing where to put your foot next, how to reach out to him without stepping onto another scar, tearing it open in a violent explosion.

Like now. It’s so goddamn stupid you could kick yourself. You've been arguing about whose turn it was to choose the movie. Something so insignificant, so trivial. But it's been a long day for both of you and what started as a joking argument has turned into an actual one and now you don't know how to stop it. Your voices are raised, you’re both shouting the frustrations of the day at each other. You hate arguing with Simon, just as he hates arguing with you.

You know it’s a normal part of any relationship, but with Simon it scares you. With Simon you never know when it could turn into him leaving. Into him pulling away. Yet you find yourself unable to stop your frustration from dripping from your tongue like venom. Simon’s not doing any better.

"Your movie choices are questionable anyway!", Simon throws into your face. "I suffer through them just for you. But they're horrible really! They all suck. I want to watch something that actually entertains me!"

Okay, that stung. Just a few days ago you'd shared one of you favorite movies with him. A movie that changed something in you when you first watched it, a movie that slightly tilted your world view. You didn't expect him to like it but that stung. And in your mind his sentence turns into you not being entertaining enough.

So you step forward, trying to hold back tears. "Yeah, as if your", you jab your finger at his chest, Simon flinches back "movie choices -"

You freeze. He'd taken a step back, raising his hands to shield himself and your heart drops, shattering at your feet. His big eyes are watching your next move in apprehension.

It should be ridiculous, really, someone as capable as Simon, a trained soldier, flinching over you putting your finger on his chest. As if you could actually inflict harm on him. As if you wouldn't rather die than hurt him.

But it's not ridiculous. It's a fucking fist to the face.

The sudden quiet makes your ears ring and Simon doesn't seem to be any better. His chest is heaving. His arms are still up, shoulders hunched, his entire stance small and scared. He’s ready to block your blows, ready to deal with you finally putting your hands on him.

His breathing is loud and quick and you want to guide him to calmness but you don’t know how when you caused his distress in the first place. This is new territory. A new step you took that landed you directly over a mine and it’s exploding right now. Exploding in slow motion, letting you see the details of everything you’ve built with Simon shattering and crumbling into dust.

Then his entire demeanor changes and you almost get whiplash. In a flash he’s squared his feet, narrowed his eyes and dropped his shoulders. His hands have gone down but they’re fists at his sides and there’s nothing relaxed about his new stance. You just watched every wall he’s let down for you come back up in the matter of a second.

His cold gaze almost hurts, his eyes distant and calculating, trying to guess your next move. Like a shield of ice that slipped into place before his soul, keeping it hidden from you.

"Simon -" It's whispered. A plea.

He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and then starts walking towards you with purpose. For an irrational second you think he’s going to hit you for scaring him. You think he’s going to get revenge on you for everything that’s ever been done to him.

The next second you’re ashamed for even thinking that. He’s not going for you. No, it’s worse. He’s going for the door of the living room behind you.

You’re helplessly watching, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry, almost painful. Your heart is hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying break your ribs from the inside. Trying to break free so it can follow Simon.

You’re frozen as you watch him leave the room. Every single muscle in his body is coiled tight, ready to whip around and stop any threat. Stop you should you so much as breathe too hard.

Holding your breath, tears gather in your eyes, dripping wetly down your cheeks. This is it, you’re waiting for the telltale sound of the door to the apartment opening and closing, Simon walking out of your life because this is irreparable.

The relieve you feel when you hear the bedroom door instead almost brings you to your knees. Then you hear the lock to the room turn and your heart breaks all over again. He’s locked you out of his safe space.

Fuck.

You sink down onto the floor and start crying in earnest. You never wanted to scare him. Never wanted to provoke that reaction. You had only pointed your finger!

You’re not even sure if you’re crying over what you’d just done or if your tears are for Simon, how he must be feeling right now. The one person he’s let in raising their hand at him, making him feel unsafe.

He’d thought you’d hit him. He’d thought you’d put your hands on him in a harmful way.

The pain coursing through you makes you breathless as you cry for Simon and everything he’s endured, as you cry over what you’d just ruined.

Hopefully he can’t hear you from the bedroom. You don’t want to cry over this, it’s not your place to cry when Simon is the one hurting. But you’re so scared of losing him of losing your best friend of losing your forever that you can’t help it.

In a weird twisted, crooked way his reaction is prove of how much he trusts you. Trusted you. He’d trusted you enough to let his guard down so far that a gesture of yours caught him off guard. You’ve never seen him so surprised by something someone did, his eyes always all over everyone. He’s always so aware of everyone and everything.

The fact that he felt safe enough to even be caught off guard shows just how close he’d let you. It was a privilege, a gift. A fragile little thing with broken wings in your palms and now you’ve crushed it.

You try to calm your breathing more. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Deep, slow. The way you instruct Simon to breathe when he’s battling his demons.

Demons he might be battling right now. And suddenly your tears run dry and you jump to your feet. This really isn’t the time to feel sorry for yourself. So you get a slippery grip on your emotions and push them back for a later time.

Rushing to the bedroom, you raise your hand and pause. You can hear Simon’s steps in the room; he’s walking in circles like a caged animal. You’ll be damned if you don’t at least try to help, doesn’t matter if this is your fault in the first place.

You knock.

His steps halt.

And then they approach the door, soft thuds drawing closer, you can see the door handle turn but it doesn’t open. And then he’s frantically shaking it, apparently not remembering locking it.

“It’s locked!” His voice sounds so confused and scared that your chest feels like it’s caving in.

“You locked it, baby. You can unlock it. The key is on your side.”, you try to say in a calm soothing tone but you’re pretty sure your voice is shaking.

The turning of the key is frantic and the door gets ripped open and then you’re face to face with Simon and his eyes are wide, flitting all over the room, disoriented. His chest is still heaving, even worse than before, and when you see him shaking, you know there’s no stopping it.

Simon’s eyes lock on you and he doubles over, his hands clawing at his chest and neck, he's breathing too hard, always in until his chest must feel like it’s exploding.

“Can’t… breathe…”, he chokes out, eyes utterly terrified, tears starting to drip as he’s frantically trying to breathe and not drown in his feelings.

You don’t know if this is a ‘touch helps’ kind of panic attack or a ‘don’t you dare touch me’ panic attack and you’re scanning over him trying to guess, when his hand grips your shoulder in an iron grip and his wide eyes look straight through you.

He’s still hyperventilating and your heart seems hell bent on matching his hectic panting. Grabbing his arms, you try to steady him as he goes down, his knees buckling. He’s heavy in your hold and your muscles scream but you put your all into preventing him from falling and hurting himself in the process. At least you manage to slow his fall and then he’s on the floor on his hands and knees. One of his hands tries to dig his fingers into the floor as the other fists his shirt, damn near ripping it.

You have to do something even if you don’t know if it’ll help or make things worse. There's no forgiving yourself if you don’t at least try, even if it’s fishing in the dark. If it doesn’t work, you can change the approach. But doing nothing won’t help anyway. So you wrap your arms around him. “I’m going to lay you down, baby. I’m going to hold you.”

You don’t think he hears you but maneuvering him without telling him feels wrong anyway. And then you do exactly as you said, you tug Simon with all your strength towards you and he topples over onto his side, landing on top of you instead of the floor and you’re glad you’re there to soften his fall. Even if you’re pretty sure you’ll have bruises from it.

Immediately you wriggle partially out from under him, keeping him on your thighs, in your lap and you wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve got you, Simon. I’m here. You’re in our apartment. Everything is okay. You’re safe, baby.”

Tears silently start dripping fdown your face again, when he curls in on himself clawing at the floor and you know he will black out if he doesn’t get his breaths more even.

In a desperate attempt you put your hand over his chest and push. “Simon, breathe out, baby, come on. Out.”

You exhale in an exaggerated way next to his ear and you think you hear him exhaling the tiniest bit, before he’s sucking air in in in. But that’s something. He can hear you, he reacts, which means he’s allowing you to guide him.

You press again. “Good, again. Ouuuuuut.”, you exhale and this time he manages to get a bit more air out. The way your top is sticking to you with sweat makes you shiver but you don’t give any attention to your own body being stressed. It will calm down when Simon does.

You continue. You don’t know how long you talk to him like that, reassurances between commands to breathe. It’s probably only been a few minutes, but you’re exhausted like you’ve been going for hours, fighting for every exhale until finally his breathing is back to a rhythm that’s as close to normal as it can get in this moment.

The exhaustion rolls over you as if you’ve had the attack yourself and your body curls over him, resting your head on him as he shakes in your lap and breathes.

The thumping of his heart under your cheek is still way too quick and he’s shaking like a fucking leaf, so you drag your tired body out from under him and turn him onto his back. Goddamnit he’s heavy.

Looking at his face resupplies your tears. His cheeks are wet, he’s pale as a sheet and his arms are clutched tightly to him as he continues shaking. You know he’s somewhat aware of his surroundings again but he’s still victim to his mind and body.

Remembering what he’s asked for before in moments when he’s needed grounding, you crawl over him and lay down with your full weight. Your head rests on his chest, near his shoulders and his arms, curled over his chest, dig into your own uncomfortably but that doesn’t matter right now.

Your own body shakes with his as you raise your hands, gently lifting his head - after a silent “please” because he resisted for a moment until his eyes focused on you - and pull a rug closer so he can rest his head on that instead of the hard floor.

Your entire body sags with relief when he pulls his arms out from under you and wraps them around you instead. His hold is tight as if he’s trying to make your bodies merge into one. As if he’s trying to push you into his ribcage to keep your right next to his heart.

His heartbeat slowly returns to normal under you and yours follows his lead. When he lifts his head and presses a kiss to your forehead, you curl your fist tighter into his shirt and finally try to push yourself off of him. The slight tightening of his hold on you makes you settle again.

The broad palms of his hands are warm and soothing as they pass back and forth over your back. You press your lips to his chest through his shirt and his next exhale is long and shaky.

He moves, jostling you slightly, and you try to get up again, but he doesn’t let you. His voice is low and tired as he says: “Hold on, lovie.”

You do and he sits up, maneuvering you in his arms until he’s got one arm around your back and one under your knees. Then he stands up and even though his movements are slow and exhausted the little to no effort with which he handles your weight still steals your breath.

His heavy steps take you both back into your bedroom and he puts you down on your shared bed, crawling in with you immediately.

You turn onto your side, as does he and then you’re looking at each other, the exhaustion on his face making you feel your own all the more.

Simon moves his hand, covers one of yours and squeezes twice. Immediately you return the gesture. A small sleepy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The reassurance behind that gesture making both of you melt into the mattress.

Still there’s so much talking to do and you end up whispering “We need to talk about this, Si.” into the small space between you, where your joined hands lie.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to each of your fingers, before letting it fall back onto the covers, still in his hold. His eyes are exhausted but you know you can’t sleep without having discussed what happened.

“I need you to know, Si”, you swallow against the tightness in your throat “I would never, ever hurt you. I’d rather chop off my own hand than touch you in a way that could cause you harm. I’m so sorry, Simon, I-“

“I know.”

You shut up, big eyes on his and he smiles, kissing the back of your hand this time.

“I know.”, he repeats and practically watches the gears in your head turn. So he takes a deep gulp of air and continues. “It’s not you, ‘luv. It’s the fucking past. Not your fault that a damn finger is all it took today to set me off. It’s my brain being a fucker.”

You’re so relieved you could cry again. He didn’t think you’d hurt him. His brain just didn’t make the distinction between the finger belonging to you or someone else at that moment. In that moment it was only a hand raised against him.

Still, maybe there’s a way to prevent that in the future? So you tentatively ask: “What can I do so you feel comfortable trusting me more? So you don’t feel like you’re endangered by a gesture from me?”

“I trust you.”, he states calmly and you shake your head.

“There has to be something I can do better. So it’s easier for you to trust-“ The way Simon takes your joined hands and brings them up to his throat, abruptly shuts you up. He's pressing your palm against it so it would be easy to squeeze and hurt and – you try to pull it back and he forces your hand harder against his throat with his own. You freeze completely.

“I trust you.”

Your eyes widen and fly to his from where they’d been locked onto his throat and the way your hand is curled against it in a chokehold.

His eyebrows are drawn together and his eyes fixated on you, willing you to understand. The soft caress of his thumb on the back of your hand - a hand that could cut off his oxygen if you wanted - makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“Okay.”, you whisper and he finally drops his hand, allows you to slowly draw your hand back from his throat. Your eyes are still widened and lock onto his neck again. Leaning forward you press a kiss to the delicate skin over his Adam’s apple and feel him swallow heavily under your lips.

When you look at hom again his eyebrows are still furrowed and warm palm finds your cheek. “I’m sorry, I reacted like that to something so small.”

You shake your head and nuzzle into his hold, giving a little kiss to his thumb. There's desperation in his eyes and you whish you could kiss it away.

“I’m sorry, ‘m all kinds of fucked up, ‘luv. Wouldn’t fault you if it’s too much. If you want to –“ Your hand covers his mouth and his eyes betray the surprise at that gesture.

“Don’t you dare, Si. Don’t you dare even say that.  As if I’d want that. You shouldn’t even think that. The only reason why I mind the panic attacks is because I know how heavily they weigh on you. You can flinch, you can scream, you can break, I don’t mind. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, if I could I’d make it stop, but I’ll take that as long as I have you in my arms at the end of the day.”

His hand gently draws your hand away from his mouth and he whispers: “But I’m a handful, lovie. How can you not mind the hassle?”

You smile at him, a little mischievously. “Good thing that I’ve got two hands then, baby.”

He snorts, while his entire face softens, and draws you in closer, you're pressed into his chest, his arms around you and he showers your head with kiss after kiss.

“I thought you were going to leave me.”, comes your muffled voice abruptly halting all of Simon's movement. Gently he pushes you away a bit so you can see his sincerity when he answers.

“Never. As long as you’ll have me.”

Your eyes water and he tilts your head up, with the tip of his finger under your chin, and presses the softest of kisses to your lips. “Don’t care about the flinches and panic attacks and hard moments as long as I get to be in your arms at the end of the day.”

You laugh, when he uses your words against you, a cracked, teary laugh and kiss him again.

“Fuck I need a nap.”, he groans once you’ve managed to stop spelling your love against the lips of each other. You giggle.

“We both do, but drink something first. You’ll wake up with a headache if you don’t.”, you say and he groans with the effort of rolling over and drinking out of the bottle on his nightstand.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, what he did to find someone so caring. Who looks at his hard exterior and handles it with soft touches and patience. He doesn’t know what he did right in his life, because he for sure can’t remember ever doing anything right, to find someone like you. He’s not going to let you go and if he has to beg at some point, then he’ll strangle his pride with his own two hands and do so.

When he faces you again he grins. “Mission accomplished, Sir.”

You groan and hide your face in your hands, missing Simon’s soft expression at your flustered state. God you’re so cute. Especially when you’re voice comes out all embarrassed when you say: “You can’t say that! You know what it does to me when you call me that!”

He wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close, your bodies fit to each other, immediately finding comfort in each other. And he can feel a wave of calmness crash over him, making him sleepy and slow. “Ya can do something ‘bout that when we wake up. Don’t think my soldier’s up to doing any long marches right now.”

He’s expecting it when your hand wriggles free and slaps his shoulder. “Simon!” You can feel his upper body shake with silent laughter.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Si.”

Your eyes are heavy, your muscles finally relaxing after all that tension of earlier. Your bodies melt into each other. You can feel Simon’s breathing getting slower, a telltale sign of him falling asleep.

“I love you.”, you mumble again before sleep takes you.

Simon’s too far gone to reply but you feel the two squeezes of his hand on you, pressing his love directly into your skin.

[intrepid-creations]

Okay so ..... I'm still working on the thing that I'm doing (sorry I'm like on night shift number 3 and coherent thought is not my forte at this point. But vibes are. And here are some vibes.) The thing I'm doing is more than this sketch of Eivor. It's Eivor and like a ton of other people and Soma weaving them all together like a Sami band and look it'll be done eventually.

But I just wanted to kinda give a bit of an idea about my process.

Which I can only sum up as:

Internal screaming and wondering what I'm doing with my life.

First ... sketch the thing.

Like ... I'm getting better at poses. And by better I mean about 90% of the time I still need to trace over a ref photo to figure out how the fuck the human body functionally moves. Because I never went to art school and I didn't get to stare at naked women (or men) to do anatomy drawings.

Second ... Cry in a corner

Decide how I'm going to shade this thing. Because I could go either of two ways - "color" in the line art as all white and then subtract to shade... kind of like how you'd handle shading a regular sketch. I tried that.

And what I got was something I'd describe as: Actual Disney Princess Eivor fuckin' Varinsdottir. Which while she collects enough goddamn animals to qualify as one - it was not what I was going for here.

So I move to step 3:

Look up an absolute fuck ton of references on lithographs and shading on lithographs (which ... quick definition: they're like hand-made prints. You sketch the thing on a block of limestone with special ink or whatever, then you can use that to make a ton of prints - but basically ... you have to do a lot of interesting things with shading. Look it up to know what I'm talking about. But if you've seen like tarot cards or even US currency - that's the kind of shading I'm talking about.

First ... I edit the hell out of the reference to really get the contrast up and make it grayscale. Helps me find the highlights and shadows.

Hej there sexy.

Anyway - got the ref down. Now spend the next like three hours doing the shading. Or really ... it's just coloring in her face but like with a bunch of lines and shit.

And voila...

She looks like she belongs on the $1000000 bill.

Still not even REMOTELY done with this but I'm tired, it's almost noon, and I'm still on night shifts so I really need to go to fucking sleep. GOOD NIGHT.

[hypegirl1]

Dear mistletoe(Marco Diaz x fem! reader)

AN:Super late Merry Christmas and happy new year to everyone!This was the Christmas special that was supposed to come out on Christmas day,but I had maybe too much fun on winter break and totally forgot abt it lmao I´m sorry,but here it is!Hope you guys enjoy it,next time I won´t be late

Summary:For the first time since you and Marco are together,you celebrate your first human Christmas,however,you don´t seem to understand very well this festivity and Marco uses it as an excuse

Word count:924

Warnings:Suggestive language(Maybe?)

Genre: Fluff

"So,this little red ball goes in here?"

"Yup,just right there"

"Woooow"

As you placed a red ornament on the Diaz´s tree,you couldn´t help but be amazed by the traditions of the humans,they had a day called "Christmas" in which they celebrated the birth of a religious figure,or at least that´s what you caught when pretending to listen to Marco... It was the 24th of December,the same day you celebrated the Stump Day in Mewni,however,as last year you celebrated that(and didn´t end as well as it expected to)this year you decided to spend it with Marco and his family and learning about the human´s festivity. They decorated their whole house with gold,green and red ornaments,ribbons and a big tree with a star at the top. As Marco said,when the clock strikes midnight,a big guy dressed with red winter clothes goes around the whole world giving presents to the kids that were good this year,if they were bad,he would give them coal.

"That´s very rude coming from a big guy like him,why does he do that?"

"So kids can learn what they did wrong and be better so that next year that stuff doesn´t happen"

"Alright...but how does he give presents to the whole world in just one night?!"

"He has a sleigh pulled by reindeers that help him give all those presents"

"Hmm,still sounds weird to me"

"It is not,it is fun! Pass me those cookies and the milk over there"

"Are you hungry?We just finished having the biggest dinner ever"

"Those aren´t for me dummy,they´re for Santa,you have to give him a cup of milk and some cookies so that he can continue his mission"

"So we give him cookies and he gives us presents?"

"Yup,it's fun,but he can only come if you are sleeping"

"Oh,I wanted to see him"

"Sorry Y/N,but that's how Santa works"

You couldn't help but complain,why did he only came when you were sleeping?You really wanted to see that big guy...

"Ugh,Christmas is so complicated!"

"You're not used to it,it's normal,neither I was used to the Stump Day and the incident of last year..."

"Oh,Marco don't say that,I should have told you,you just wanted to make me a surprise party"

"I know but- I should have known better"

"Marco...it's alright,you only wanted what you thought was going to be good for me"

"Thank you Y/N"

You felt as your cheeks were turning a hot red,damn,was it the big sweater that you were wearing or were you blushing?

"So,now that everything is done,what do we do?"

Marco got up from the sofa were you both were sitting and walked towards the kitchen door.

"Now,I'm going to get some water and go to bed,It's almost midnight,Santa will not come if we're awake"

"What?Already going to bed?!I don't want to!"

You got up and walked towards Marco,both of you standing under the door frame.

"Can't we stay awake a little bit more?"

"Y/N I would love to,but I'm tired,tomorrow is another day"

You tried giving Marco the puppy eyes,but this time it didn't worked at all,goddamn...

"Y/N,we can pull an all nighter tomorrow,but now we really have to go to bed,I'm tired,and you're also tired"

"I'm not- *yawn* tired"

"You sure?"

You looked the other way embarrased

"I promise we'll stay awake the whole night tomorrow,I promise"

"Alright then"

You both did the pinky promise,one that couldn't break,you were about to go upstairs to your room and go to sleep,until Marco said something

"Wait Y/N,I want to tell you something"

"What is it?We're together,you can tell me anything"

Just in that moment,the clock striked midnight,it was the 25th

"Look up"

And you did you saw a little plant with some leafs and red ornaments

"It's the mistletoe,if two people are standing under it,they have to kiss in order for Santa to come"

You just blushed at Marco's statement,if that was necessary,then it should be done,at the end of the day you were a happy couple.And you did,it was a warm,gentle kiss,it tasted like the hot chocolate you both had a few minutes ago,it was...amazing.

"Merry Christmas Y/N,and happy birthday,I love you"

You then just realized that indeed it was the 25th,your birthday

"Oh Marco,I love you too,is Santa coming now?"

You both started walking upstairs meanwhile talking

"He was coming either way"

"What?"

"Yeah,the mistletoe is just a little game,you don't need to kiss someone in order for santa to come"

"What?"

"Yeah,if two people are standing under it,they just have to kiss,but I knew you wouldn't give me a kiss that easily"

"You little nacho boy,you tricked me!And I fell for it!"

"Haha,come on Y/N,you liked it"

"Well of course!But,you know you could have just asked me instead of using my nonexistent knowledge about this"

"Well,can I get a kiss then?"

You gave Marco a little kiss on the lips,better than the other one,again,you could feel your cheeks becoming more and more red as you continued,who turned on the chimney?!

"Merry Christmas Y/N"

"Merry Christmas Marco"

[castielmode]

ROMANCE. UNDER THE CUT

Dean wakes up to Cas joining him on his mattress on the floor.

"Sorry," Cas says. "I'm getting tired again, and every other place to lie down is occupied. Jody and Garth are outside keeping watch."

He knows that. Linda's on one couch, and Kevin is asleep on one of the camp chairs he put close to the fireplace. He's got two books in his lap, one open on top of the other, and a pencil still loosely held in his left hand. At least he won’t be cold, even if he is gonna fuck up his back sleeping like that. Then again, he’s eighteen. Maybe he’ll wake up fresh as a goddamn daisy. Dean knows Sam is in the bedroom because he sent him there when it looked like he was about to keel over. Charlie jokingly bitched about not getting the bed, but Dean told her it was Sam's because he’s sick and he needs to lay his gigantic body out. Charlie's on the other couch with a beanie and three blankets. She gets cold easily.

It's so quiet in the room, with everyone asleep but Dean. It's not eerie, but it is weird. He's never been very comfortable in the woods, where you can't hear anything but the animals that you don't have to worry about. Cas settling onto the air mattress makes that creaking noise that air mattresses make at the slightest move. He breathes out slow and heavy as he lets his muscles relax. The mattress complains some more.

“You’re getting tired a lot.” Dean says.

“Yeah.” Cas is much better at whispering these days, Dean thinks absently. Used to be he didn’t care who or what heard him when he spoke. “I don’t think a seraph is supposed to have this tablet. It might be -- not intended, but more suited to other angelic orders.”

“What does that mean for you?”

Cas shrugs, flat on his back, fully dressed on the left side of Dean’s bed. Poor bastard doesn’t even have a pillow. There’s an extra one Dean threw over to the side that’s left from Charlie’s earlier nap, because she likes holding onto something when she sleeps. She seems to have decided to go without it this time round, so Dean tugs it closer, motions for Cas to lift up, places it under his head. Cas says, “I don’t know. It could be detrimental, it could have no effect once I’m no longer in contact with it, it could have a long-term effect on my grace for better or worse -- there’s no precedent. I don’t think anyone’s put a tablet inside of their vessel before.”

“Yeah, you little original thinker, you.” Cas glares, but it’s kind of a low-effort version. Dean laughs at him, quiet as the woods outside. He’s gotta ask, though. “You gonna take care of yourself, Cas?”

Cas looks at him. “Like you?”

“No, man,” Dean looks back. Cas smirks, just a bit, smug. Dean thinks of the second time he ever saw him, in Bobby’s kitchen, blue and silver in the night and confident with all of heaven’s might and his own convictions behind him. He was fucking scary back then. Now he changes clothes and needs to sleep and shower, and somehow, he still gets this light in his eyes sometimes and he's terrifying. Even now. He's not even doing anything. Dean lets himself take a deep breath and act like he’s not scared of his best friend. “Okay, all right. Splinters and beams, okay, I get it. I’m just saying, you should. ‘Cause you’re not gonna let us do it.”

“Dean --”

“You could, you know.” Cas looks away, which doesn’t matter, exactly, but - “Me and Sam, we’re not that bad at it.”

Frowning at the ceiling, Cas says, “Is this a... a family thing?”

“Family, friends, allies -- yeah, man, any way you slice it, it’s our job, and you’ve earned it.” Dean doesn’t know what he’s trying to get across here, but it’s crucial that he does. He keeps his voice quiet. “You just gotta let us do it.”

For a while, Dean is sure Cas has fallen asleep, but then he says, “So, if we’re family, that means that I get to take care of you, too.”

Dean’s throat clicks on the swallow. “Yeah. Sure, man. Whatever you want.”

The quiet stretches and looms, until Cas says, decisive and still in that low voice -- "All right."

And then Cas does go to sleep, and Dean stays awake for at least another hour and a half trying to figure out what the fuck they actually said to each other before the crackling fire and the relief of having everyone under the same roof finally puts him back to sleep.