#the differences between their Not-Quite-Afterlifes is so funny to me

[toastydumpster]

insanely funny to me that Arthur got to chill in a nice little whiskey room when he died while John got sent straight to the boiling pits of Hell

[thenightling]

Dead boy Detectives review

I've watched all eight episodes of Dead Boy Detectives and it was a decent show. It's not something I may obsess over like The Sandman, or The Witcher, but it was decent.

Dead Boy Detectives is the story of Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland. Edwin was killed during a Satanic ritual in 1916. Charles died from hypothermia and internal bleeding after some bullies drove him into an ice-cold lake while throwing rocks at him.

(Note: That was not how Charles actually died in the source material. In the comics, Lucifer had quit and shut down Hell (the basis for the TV show Lucifer) so many evil souls returned to Earth, including the boys that sacrificed poor Edwin. They badly burnt Charles' back on a hot stove and Charles died from his injuries.)

The two ghosts decided to dedicate their afterlife solving mysteries to help other ghosts find peace. They are aided by psychic, Crystal Palace, who is haunted by her abusive ex-boyfriend who happens to be a demon.

Both Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland originated in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman: Season of Mists, The Sandman: Volume 4. Issue 25 of The Sandman comics, and within Act 2 of The Sandman audio drama.

The Dead Boy Detectives made their TV first appearance in Doom Patrol for HBO Max (now Max). During a shakeup at Max the show was moved over to Netflix as to better connect it with The Sandman since that is where they originated.

The show features different actors from the ones that played Charles and Edwin on Doom Patrol.

The Dead Boy Detectives is a decent show but ...it feels a bit like a CW teen drama. I had been told that some of the show's writers were originally writers for the CW... and it shows.

There are some deliberately surreal elements of the show that I think are a callback to their appearance in Doom Patrol.

I love the variety of supernatural entities in the show, including the appearance of two of Morpheus's siblings. Death and Despair. The things I don't like about the show can be considered CW tropes or cliches. The angsty romances and unrequited love. The ham-fisted abusive ex metaphor between Crystal and David The Demon.

And of course the most tedious of CW tropes, the end of the episode pining and angst while a sad pop song plays in the background.

If you look past the CW-ness of it, the show is enjoyable.

The only other things I can complain about is the "connecting thread" subplot of The Afterlife: Lost and Found feels like unnecessary filler. And I wish they would openly establish that Edwin, being an innocent, would NOT return to Hell if collected by Death now. I don't think that should be left hanging over his head. Especially since we're supposed to see Death as a kind entity. Also I think Charles says "Aces" a little too much. It's very distracting and makes me feel like the writers didn't know much late 80s English slang. It would be like if he was an American and they had him say "Radical" all the time. I get that it's kind of his catchphrase but it also got a bit annoying.

The parts I don't like are CW tropes and what I'd consider to be late 90s Vertigo edginess.

The thing I liked were plentiful though. The protagonists were and are likable. The ending is satisfying enough so that if there is only one season this was still good. I liked that it appears that one can ascend out of Hell after some self-reflection as is indicated by the boy Edwin confronted in Hell. The blue light was established to mean ascension, a good afterlife.

I also LOVE the opening credits theme music and animated sequence. It reminds me of the intro to Showtime's Creature Feature movies. (See the trailer for 2001's She Creature, not the 50s version. Watch the trailer at thirteen seconds in, on Youtube, and you'll see what I mean).

That's two Gothic themed shows from Netflix in the last two years with great opening credits sequences. The first being Wednesday. That one won Danny Elfman an Emmy.

It's funny, Wednesday and Dead Boy Detectives (which is a spin-off of The Sandman) have great opening credit intro sequences but The Sandman does not. Apparently Neil Gaiman was told people don't watch the opening credits anymore so The Sandman doesn't have them.

I feel we were cheated out of what could have been a great opening sequence for The Sandman.

Episodes 7 and 8 of Dead Boy Detectives were probably the best of the series. I liked it well enough that if Dead Boy Detectives gets renewed I'll happily watch season 2.

[misterxsamsa]

I think the JTHM universe's versions of heaven and hell are very interesting. They're evidently not based on mortality persay, not even just an objective measure of intelligence. It's very nuanced, and specific, and the introduction of it acts a good narrative conclusion to Johnny's character progression.

We're introduced to heaven first, and an evidently very flawed God. He's portrayed as all grotesque, and lazy, and funny-looking — not answering any of Johnny's questions, or doing anything about the the world's suffering. However, in relation to heaven's inhabitants, the concept of "content" is stressed above morality. There's nothing enriching in the enviorment, just chairs to "bliss" in, but they're all completely at peace and given immense power alongside that.

We're not given incredible amounts of insight into the people residing there. However, it seems some of them were likely quite unpleasant in character, like the crabby old woman. Through all this, the notion of morality not being the determining factor of where you reside in the afterlife is established. So, if it's not morality, subjective or otherwise, then what is it? Well, it's not any one thing, and the answer to that question is left somewhat open-ended and subjective.

When catching a glimpse of hell, the characters of its residents are just as mixed as heaven's — some nice, some mean. The shared trait between all of them though is a preoccupation with the inane. They're cartoonishly reactive to the smallest of inconveniences, materialistic, superficial, or lacking in attention span. We're told many of them are driven to neuroticism by an eye in the sky that they all simultaneously believe to be watching them specifically. To me, this is a barely symbolic representation of an obsession with appearences: the judgements, opinions, praises of others.

Personally, I interpret the determining factors for the fate of your eternal soul in JTHM to be that of priorities and perspective. To be specific, what you allow to consume your thoughts — the things you value and pursue during your life. By choosing [or rather prioritizing] contentment, the residents of heaven decided that it was more worthwhile than wasting mental energy on fleeting negative emotions, or other base things. It's not that their souls are being judged from some detached perspective outside of themselves. They're determining the course of their own afterlife, and hell is effectively just a self-imposed state of mind.

That's all intriguing from a lore perspective, but this system is a backdrop meant to emphasize the themes of Johnny's narrative journey. The idea that "heaven" and "hell" are states actively sought rather than assigned is meant to highlight Johnny's agency in his own deterioration. He's chosen to prioritize his misanthropy, and homicidal tendencies, over his art and relationships. By seeing himself in the residents of hell through their shared flaws, he's forced to internally take accountability. That's what ultimately drives him towards a pursuit of contentment in Issue #7.

What's interesting though is that the notion of what exactly "contentment" entails is left purposefully vague. Why wouldn't it be? The concept of "contentment" is subjective and self-determined. That's why Johnny continues to kill, and overall be very morally dubious even after his change in perspective. He's choosing to make it about his own amusement and enrichment rather than centering it in exhaustive hate. Hey, everybody finds happiness a little differently, I suppose, it's still tangible progress nonetheless.

There's an interesting dichotomy to be found between God and Senor Diablo. Upon a first glance, I've seen many take their portrayal [and differences] as a cynical, but straightforward poke at organized religion. That's probably the case, but I see more to it than just that. In JTHM, the systems of heaven and hell are meant to reflect and support Johnny's character progression. As such, I'd make the argument God and Senor Diablo could be symbolic of the judgements Johnny would normally make on others.

Senor Diablo is very distinguished, intelligent, and he loves the word "DOOM". He's seemingly well-off compared to the God of this world, and Johnny respects him significantly more [relatively speaking] as a result. However, he's unhappy with the people he rules over, and exhausted by their repetitively short-sighted tendencies. In some respects, you could view him as Johnny's parallel, both are cynical enjoyers of suffering looking down on idiots who they view as beneath them. Perhaps, by a subjective character evaluation, and on aesthetics, you could say he's above his heavenly counterpart. Still, that judgement would bring him no joy.

It's emblematic of the lessons Johnny has to learn about himself and others. He's not better than humanity for constantly engulfing himself in the sufferings and injustices of the world, ones he only pretends to truly care about. His intellect is only valuable for as much as he can properly utilize it to better his own circumstances. With God, he's greasy and ignorant, but he's completely happy, or content. He's a representation of all the traits that motivates Johnny's hatred of others — he's all fleshy-like, and completely unconcerned with his sorroundings in any deep sense. It makes sense for humans to be apparently made in his image, since he's a fucked up interpretation of the quintessential human.

Still, by the end of the comics, Johnny learns to appreciate his love of content, rather than fixating upon his numerous detestable traits. In life, you'll encounter many people you'll find to be as disgusting as that lumpy God-dude in his chair. Regardless, it's in your best interests to only allow their bad qualities to occupy your thoughts to a limited degree. By learning to internalize to philosophies of people different from him, or particularly flawed, Johnny's learned to become a more well-rounded person. Again, relatively speaking by the standards of a homicidal maniac. Rome wasn't built in a day!

[lirarey]

Okay, I looked up the height difference between Winona Ryder and Michael Keaton... It's about 14 cm (~5,5 inches). This means that Beetlejuice is about half a head taller than Lydia. And I imagined cute headcanons.

Of course, when kissing you can just lean in/extend your neck, but that's too easy. But what about "Spider-Man Kiss"? Imagine Lydia going about her daily business with Beetlejuice following her around, constantly teasing her. At one point she can't take it anymore and throws her head back, dreaming of at least hitting him. And it turns out to be as close as possible to his face. Beetlejuice sees Astrid passing by, gives Lydia a quick kiss, and flies off into the air laughing. Astrid shakes her head, smiling involuntarily. Lydia can't help but smile, too.

You know that situation when you can't reach the top shelf? Beetlejuice is always ready to help Lydia and just lift her up, but she doesn't agree because Beetlejuice really likes to bury his nose in her neck and not let go. I don't know, but for some reason it seems to me that he really loves hugs.

Oh yeah, hugs. I don't remember if it was canon that ghosts themselves are cold? Because at this point Beetlejuice likes to warm up with her hugs. Sometimes Lydia has moments of fatigue when she just doesn't know what to do next. At first, Beetlejuice tries to amuse her with all sorts of jokes (okay, throwing Rory's things off the balcony was funny), but if that doesn't help, he snaps his fingers. A soft chair appears... and a bunch of flying candles in the shape of Beetlejuice himself. Okay, I think I overdid it. BUT IMAGINE HER SITTING AND HIS HEAD LAYING ON HER SHOULDER. Sorry, I love fluff too much and I'm afraid of misinterpreting the characters-

And a few more thoughts without reference to height. Astrid often jokingly refers to Beetlejuice as her stepfather, mentioning that they're quite similar. For a long time, Lydia couldn't imagine herself with him even as a couple, but Beetlejuice's concern for Astrid helped her change her mind. In the end, they made a pretty good family.

Beetlejuice would probably like to live a little longer. It's not my idea, but he could marry Lydia so he can become human and grow old with her. Lydia definitely won't believe that he's willing to lose everything he had in the Afterlife.

[thatonecrookedsmile]

"There's nothing wrong with dreaming. Wishing for the impossible is just human nature. That's how I got started. Just a pencil and a dream. We all want everything without even having to lift a finger. They say you just have to believe. Belief can make you succeed. Belief can make you rich. Belief can make you powerful. Why with enough belief, you can even cheat death itself. Now that... is a beautiful, and positively silly thought." -Joey Drew.

[OPEN YOUR EYES]

-Line-

-----

I mean, at the end of the day, he wasn't so wrong about that last part.

This one also took a little longer to finish. I wonder why /s.

I usually don't like drawings where I have to create a design for a character I've never drawn before. It ends up making me force myself to come up with ideas and sometimes I end up not liking the design anyway. At least this time? That didn't happen (thank goodness).

At first, I didn't know what to do for this prompt. What I originally conceived was a more "joke" drawing with Joey and Sammy, with Sammy literally drawing the line between him and Joey with a big pencil. No big deal, right? But then the phrase "end of the line" came to mind and then… this happened. Funny. A while back I had an idea for a drawing about Joey's afterlife. The idea was much simpler, from what I remember. And compared to what we have, quite different.

"Death" is what came for Joey, and it's what comes for everyone. What he faces is nothing less than what will determine his fate. It is the very Arbiter itself - the eye that sees all - who decides where souls whose lives are over will go. The heavenly gates in the great beyond? The burning flames in the darkest pit? The void of vast nothingness? Somewhere else beyond? Reveal your soul and the Arbiter will decide. I have a certain guess as to where Joey is going, but I'll leave that up in the air.

Maybe I thought just a little bit too much about a character that I probably won't draw in a long time,but i don't mind giving a little lore even to characters that i don't see using much in the future, you know.

(Also, since I used Joey's audio log from BATIM CH3 in the beginning, did you know that Dave Rivas (Joey's current VA) did his own reading of that audio? He's going to be a guest on the Indie Horror Talk Podcast, and the video they posted teasing Dave's appearance there has him reading this same audio log, only with his Joey voice. So now we have Joey's first audio log in the series voice acted by both his first VA (David Eddings) and his current one. I thought that was cool, you know. I found this out a while back and wanted to talk about it for a sec.)

(Alt. without the text):

[innerchorus]

Okay, instead of making a million disjointed Gurgin posts like I’m constantly tempted to do, it occurs to me that I can just... put them all in the same post.

Two thoughts that are breaking my brain at the moment; 1. the fact that Nakamura’s manga made me consider a blonde Gurgin (it’s like the sequel to blonde Isfan but worse... though if I have to imagine them with light hair then they can both have silver/grey because blonde just does not work for me, lmao) and 2. trying to picture Gurgin wearing white back when he was training to become a priest...

(He was MADE for wearing black. I do sometimes think about what he would wear if he left Team Zahhak and their typical attire behind, but it’s hard to see him wearing a lot of colour even then.)

(This is funny though because in the novels Team Zahhak wear dark grey.)

Do you ever come across a reference to something historical or whatever and just think ‘that has to be included in an AU somehow’ because that happened to me most recently with the Castle of Oblivion. It’s in Khuzestan, like the Temple of Mithra. I think I’m going to incorporate it into Gurgin’s backstory somehow, like maybe he and his brother and Farangis visited its ruins together once when they were at the temple together, but (unbeknownst to them) way back in the day it used to be used by the priesthood to imprison users of magic / those suspected of following Zahhak. Nowadays they just kill them instead. That’s another thing that the temple trio don’t know about (at least, not yet). Who knows, maybe even the Master himself was familiar with this place!

I’m... really tempted to give Gurgin a different eye colour in every AU I imagine him in. Is this because I’m indecisive and can’t quite settle on one? Maybe. But I also kind of like the idea of this one inconsequential visual difference between all of the different ‘versions’ of Gurgin and his story that I like to think about.

(Interlude aka Magical Healing AU is the only one that has much of anything actually written for it, and his eye colour there is a grey-green, but I do like the thought of a pale blue-grey too, or even brown like his brother, though that might be too similar as they both have dark hair and I like the thought that their eye colour sets them apart distinctly... having said that I was considering a deep reddish-brown/mahogany colour for Mage Hunt AU, I’m not sure why.)

I feel I should admit to the fact that I think about Mage Hunt AU and the eventual Zandeh/Gurgin all the time... like, why yes, Zandeh, you will end up deeply in love with the man you once called a “slimy little freak”. You will love him with your whole heart. You will love his mind, his body and his soul, and you will not want to imagine a future without him by your side. (And thankfully, you won’t have to. This one has a happy ending!)

I was indulging myself recently by imagining Gurgin reuniting with Aghriras in the afterlife, since the novels do seem to indicate that one exists and this is possible. Yeah, I know, it’s absolutely delusional to think that Gurgin would be allowed into Parsian heaven lmao, but... maybe eventually? Just imagining Aghriras wordlessly holding him in a tight hug.

Revisiting some of the content regarding Zahhak’s blood and its mind-control powers in the novels recently has actually been very relevant to my interests in that recently I’d started considering yet another AU (probably like an eventual bad end for well past the events of Interlude, where Gurgin is still firmly Team Zahhak, tries to have it all and ends up suffering the consequences). I would personally describe it as ‘averting canon horror by committing AU atrocities’ but to be more specific, Gurgin ends up saving Zandeh’s life by giving him Zahhak’s blood, and it’s not going to end well. (Sorry, Gurgin. He’ll probably kill you in the end.)

The fact that Gurgin most likely knows exactly where Zandeh is in the second half is just so useful to me. You can’t tell me that this little snake wouldn’t have been reading Namard and Kermine’s letters whenever he got the chance.

Also I am 👀 at the fact that Gurgin recognises that Kermine’s love for Namard would have caused problems for Team Zahhak in the future if he’d lived, while Ghundi is totally oblivious (and annoyed at Gurgin for not telling him before). Gurgin seems surprised that Ghundi doesn’t know. Perhaps he thought it was obvious; however, he may also have deliberately kept quiet about it and is now making a jab at his comrade (like ‘I can’t believe you didn’t notice it, you really don’t know?’). Anyway, this is definitely of interest to me, because I wonder if he’s not been with Team Zahhak for long enough for his perceptiveness of such things to be completely deadened.

Also poor guy, at this point he’s totally sleep deprived and exhausted from the constant racket that the winged apes have been making

(My little headcanon is that back in the time when he and Zandeh were both in Ecbatana, he would sometimes go and sleep in Zandeh’s bed during the day.)

Tanaka: 'In the past, in addition to the Holy Master there were eight people in this room; now only two remained. The anxiety and loneliness of the mages was deeply felt.’ 😢

Weirdest thing I have researched for Sacrifice AU so far: what happens if someone drinks heavy water (yeah, Gurgin... don’t drink from that weird underground well...)

I want to make a Gurgin playlist... I will accept suggestions!

[disparatemind]

@drag0nnymph you had to say something, didn't you?

TW/CW: mention of death/drowning/car accident

"Coffee or tea?"

The soul stared at me, blinking slowly. "¿Café o té?" I tried. Still nothing. I tried a few more languages before the spirit finally shook their head.

"I understood you the first time," the soul said. The echoing quality of a soul's voice was something that I never quite got used to, like the whisper of the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. "Coffee, I guess. No—"

"No milk, two sugars?"

Blink. Blink. "How d—"

I smiled. "You gonna sit down or keep standing in the doorway?"

I turned to the counter behind me and pulled a large jar off of the shelf, the enticing aroma of the beans engulfing me the moment the lid was removed. I heard the scrape of a chair behind me and felt one corner of my lips quirk up into a smile as I ground the beans and put them in the machine. "Glad you decided to come in."

The gentle sounds of cups and glasses clinking and soft conversations continued for a few moments before I heard the question.

"Where am I?"

"You're in my cafe," I answered easily. I turned around, meeting the soul's gaze. "It's kind of an... in-between spot."

"In between what?" the soul asked, looking around at the other patrons, obviously confused.

"Life and death."

My words hung in the air for a few seconds as the soul just stared at me. "If that was a joke, it wasn't funny."

I smiled gently. "What's the last thing you remember before you showed up at my door?"

A frown. Then a furrowing of the brow as I stirred two sugars into the cup and set it down on the counter. And then...

"I remember a... light." Another frown. "But it kept moving, like it wouldn't stay still. And it was above me, and I was cold." A flash of anger, then, and the soul stood up. "What did you do to me?" the soul snarled.

I shook my head. "Just given you coffee," I said, my response gentled by the same question asked by a thousand different voices. "What else do you remember?"

The soul's shoulders heaved with the ragged breaths they were taking, and their voice sounded strained.

"I... I..."

The breaths became more strained, and a few of the nearest patrons glanced over, concern and empathy flashing across their faces.

"I can't reach the light," the soul gasped. "I'm cold, and I can't breathe, I can't... I can't breathe. I have to get to the light, I have... I have to breathe or I'll—”

The soul collapsed back into the chair. "Drown," it whispered.

A long silence followed, and I sat with the spirit giving whatever support my presence could offer.

"What do I do now?" Empty eyes stared into mine. "Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?"

"Not quite," I said with a small smile. "Think of it as a stopping point on your journey. Where you go from here depends on you, and a couple of other things. See the doors?"

Turning slightly so they could see where I was pointing, I gestured toward the door they had come through. "That door leads to Life's domain. Some people come through it only once, for others it might as well be a revolving door." Pointing to the opposite end of the cafe, I continued, "That door leads to the first steps of the afterlife, and Death's realm. There aren't many who come back through that one once they've left here that way."

"So where am I going?"

I looked back at the soul in front of me. "Like I said, it depends on a few things." I paused. "You were rescued, it seems."

"How do you know that?" the soul demanded. "You knew how I take... I mean took my coff... How do you know shit about me?!"

"Your coffee's gonna get cold," I said, leaning back against the counter. "As for how I knew... I really couldn't tell you. Things just pop into my head, usually things you already know, even if it's subconscious." I paused for a moment. "You can feel your connection to your body if you try, at least that's what other souls have told me."

"And are all these people...?"

"Not all of us," one of the nearest souls chuckled. "I'm in a coma, so I might as well be, but stubborn me can't seem to just let go all the way."

"I was in a car accident and keep—” the statement was cut off as the soul who had been speaking disappeared.

"Coming and going, is what I believe she was going to say," I finished. "She's been doing that for awhile."

The soul I'd made coffee for finally took a sip, gave the cup a look of surprise and then suspicion, and looked at me.

"What good would poison do here?" I chuckled. "It tastes so good because it's soothing... well, your soul. Besides, I always grind the beans by hand. I think it tastes better that way."

The soul slumped and took a healthier swig from the cup. "I'm not sure I feel anything."

"That's what your mom said last night!"

"Shut up, Wade," the cafe chorused.

I rolled my eyes. "Apparently Deadpool is real; who knew?" I said, shrugging my shoulders. "At least he likes Oolong. I'm still trying to figure out how he keeps coming up with puns for it."

The soul in front of me smiled a bit, then gasped and clutched at their chest. "O-Oh, oh ow. Oww. OW! What's happening?!" The soul strained against what seemed to be an invisible force. "Something's pounding against my chest! It feels like my ribs are broken!"

"Ahh, someone's finally started CPR," I said, moving the coffee cup out of the way. I'd seen enough flailing from spirits to learn that one real quick. I watched for a couple of minutes, the few souls nearby waiting with bated breath. Finally, the soul collapsed back in the chair.

"That looked rough—I'm sorry you had to go through that," I sympathized. Pushing the cup of coffee back in front of the soul, I slid a couple of chocolate chip cookies next to it. "You look like you need those."

"What now?" the soul asked, voice strained and ragged.

"Now you wait to see if the doctors can save you," said the soul in a coma. "If it takes awhile, you're welcome to sit with me."

"Refill?" I asked, holding up the coffee pot.

A shake of the head. "Thank you but no, I'm fine."

I nodded and looked at the soul who had drowned. "You look like you need a minute. I'm gonna do my rounds and I'll be right back."

As I walked out from behind the counter, I surveyed the room. The style was a mix of old-fashioned tavern and modern cafe, with rustic furniture but an open and welcoming atmosphere, with warm lighting and a cozy fire in the fireplace. I nodded to each soul, checking if anyone needed another pot of tea or maybe a cookie or two, and did you know we serve scones as well? Sure thing, I'll be right back.

By the time I returned to the new arrival, they were in conversation with the coma soul and seemed slightly more at ease. "I hope not," I caught as I walked up, "I don't think I can handle—”

"—coming and going," said the soul who'd been in an accident as she popped back in.

"That's what she said!"

"Shut up, Wade," the cafe groaned.

You run a café on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.

[shesboundtobruise]

She wasn't the type to wear emotions on her sleeve, so when word of Lou's death reached her it would have been fair to assume Skylar had taken the news quite well. After all, Sky had lost people in the past - those she had been close to and other wise - but Lou Wolfe? It just hurt in an entirely different manner.

Down at the bar, she held her own wake. A bottle of Lou's favourite whiskey on the table and two glasses, one for herself and the other ready for Lou. Was she expecting the other to just turn up like nothing happened? Kind of, but she knew reality was much harsher than that.

She picked this bar for one very particular reason - the karaoke. Sky knew Lou wouldn't want her to be a sad sack of shit all night, and what better way to honour the woman she adored than to drunkenly sing at the top of her lungs until she was kicked out? That is what Lou would have wanted.

It didn't take long for a bouncer to escort her out of the bar, between her third and fourth time scream singing Purple Rain, and sent home in a cab. Laying on her bed, she called Lou.

" Heyyyy Louuuuuuuuuuuuuuu I hope you could hear how loud I was singin' for you. I'm pretty sure they could hear me on the fuckin' moon, ay. I ... miss you. Feels a little stupid sayin' that to y' voice mail but I got a funny feelin' you're keepin' an eye on me still. I hope they got good whiskey in whatever the afterlife is supposed t' be, cuz y' deserve nothin' but the best. There's somethinnnnnnnnng I wish i told you while you were still ... whateverrr, you'll jus' say i'm fuckin' drunk off my tits, which I am but that doesn't change what I want you to know... I love you. Like, okay, I know I told ya that all the time but I ... really do love you, more than a friend. I wish we had more time t'gether but I'm so happy I met you, that we became friends, danced like idiots in ya livin' room. Keep a seat for me wherever ya are, yeah? I'll be there soon. Or not. I dunno how time works when ya dead. I love you ... I love you ... I ..."

The rest of the message was just the sounds of her breathing softly, snoring intermittently until her phone battery died.

( LOU DIED. HOW'S YOUR MUSE DOING? | accepting! @ofdeomnes )

I'VE MADE A MISTAKE.

[liennalei]

What ruins the RTC revival

So i’ve been brainrotting over RTC these last weeks and. watched both bootlegs. while the original holds a dear place in my heart, the revival simply isnt as good. So Im going to rewatch it and write down the reasons why. 

DISCLAIMER: LONG POST

AN: please watch the show before reading this. it wont make sense otherwise.

Also. R! is used to talk about the revival character. Likewise, O! is used to talk about the original character. Cause holy shit they are completely different characters.

1. Humanoid Karnak. i refuse to elaborate. 

2. “Virgil shall play— the bass”. I loved that delivery, and now it’s gone

3. When explaining the rules about the armrest, Karnak goes a bit too fast, which ruins the comedy for me

4. “I assure you, none of the calls you are about to receive will have life altering consequences (pause. looks down) except for one of you”. THE PAUSE IS GONE. THE PAUSE WAS WHAT MADE IT FUNNY.

5. THE CHOIR FACES THE PUBLIC. 

I will elaborate. In the original version, the choir is on the other side of the stage, facing backwards, and only face the public when dead. This helps establish that the stage is the afterlife. THIS VERSION DOESNT DO THAT. 

6. R!Mischa looks old. The entire cast looks old, but R!Mischa looks like a 40 year old. Thats a grown ass man sir.

7. No Penny foreshadowing in the newspaper.

8. The segment of "something doesnt feel quite right–" is gone. I loved that segment. I feel its fundamental to introducing us to the characters.

9. No friendly banter between Ocean and Noel during the song :(

10. RICKY ISNT SUPPOSED TO SING YET. Even if hes already dead, the others arent supposed to know he can already talk.

11. On the subject of R!Ricky. The crutches are gone. What the fuck. I know why but i hate why.

12. R!Ocean is the one asking "where are we?". And its not scared, its not confused, its just... a question. O!Constance's delivery is far better.

13.

DEMOCRACY ROCKS!

I hate this delivery. R!Ocean's "Democracy rocks!" was perfect: preppy, upbeat... this singy-songy democracy rocks sucks. O!Ocean wouldve never.

14. I hate R!Ocean. I refuse to elaborate.

Sike! I will. She's doesnt look the "overachiever golden girl" part. I dont mean her looks, i mean her attitude– she seems normal. She seems like a normal girl, shes not even half as annoying! Thats what made O!Ocean great– her being annoying yet lovable!

15. Mischa doesnt grab his crotch :(

Okay i must elaborate. The crotch grabbing may seem weird but its part of the gangsta persona. The psoture this Mischa adopts is simply... not it.

16. That was emasculating...

After the "i am naked child in the wilderness" introduction, O!Mischa says "that was whack". Not emasculating. Hes surprised that hes said that, but he doesnt say that it doesnt represent him. He knows he is vulnerable, and he embraces it. R!Mischa seems embarrassed of this side of him. WHICH IS NOT MY DEAR MISCHA.

17. Instead of giving the discourse, Ricky simply says "Level up". There is no character.

18. On the topic. The choir realises he can speak only now. There is no "The twilight zone" moment, no "It certainly appears that way. Badass" moment. Fuck this.

Sidenote: we're at the 13 min mark

19. R!Jane Doe is less autistic coded. Shes just creepy. Inherently bad.

20. "Playing games where people"s lives are on the table is

Super illegal"

This delivery makes no sense. Why would she say it like that. Why would she move her hips alongside that line.

21. This monologue's delivery is shit. It reads like a comedic monologue, and not a "debate team" monologue.

22. The improv thing. Why would you add that. I mean i know why but why.

23. "IT TAKES TWO WINGS TO FLY–" R!Ocean is a theatre kid in the bad way. O!Ocean was a debate team kid. O!Ocean was better and more in line with the character

24. Instead of singing the "Oh nooOOOooO" she says "Nope. Nope." Why. Oh, I know why!

25. This Ocean can't sing. Im sorry. No offence, but this actress isn't fit for this role. Her voice doesnt adjust to Ocean's registry.

26. Instead of the euphoric "WHAT A RUSH" we get a full of soberbia "What a rush~". R!Ocean is meaner.

I have to note R!Constance is one of the few good things in here. Her delivery is great and her dialogue is good.

27. "And then i got to get on that ride. Thanks" got replaced with a line that makes Ricky seem like an incel

Okay i know that ricky IS horny but hes NOT an incel. "No one wants to make out with the tambourine guy". O!Ricky wouldnt complain about that. He complained about riding the cyclone and DYING.

28. Instead of trying to get a hug, Jane tries to offer up her doll. I just loved that part :( it gives her character.

R!Noel is also good. Not as good as O!Noel, but good. The nativity scene is awkward, but it fits. So im not counting that.

And the transition from Noel to Monique is amazing.

29. But, as much as I like this Noel's acting... the singing is mediocre. It sounds like a karaoke performance. It looks like a karaoke performance. It feels like a karaoke performance.

Its been half an hour. I need help.

31. The dance during "THAT FUCKED UP GIIIIIIIIIIRL" changes and its worse.

32. Again, I hate R!Ocean

33. Every Story's Got a Lesson. Again, she cant sing.

34. The porno bit is gone. It gave Ricky some depth.

35. The Saw V bit is gone too. It was so funny :(

36. The improv thing..... sucks. Constance lets to, and she is supposed to be the restrained girl until her song. It breaks the character. It ruins the surprise.

37. The transition to Mischa's turn is rough as fuck

38. Mischa's backstory here makes him seem like an asshole. The original was this sad story, this one is just angry. Its reductive.

39. He says "Mostly positive feedback" as a bad thing, says it /neg. Doubting. O!Mischa was amazed, loving, said it /pos.

40. It was HILARIOUS when he said "Good for hot dog (raises index, as in "1"), but not so good for Ukraine (raises middle finger too, as in "2") so THANK YOU FOR KILLING MY MOTHER (leaves middle finger up)". GUESS WHAT. THATS GONE AS WELL.

41. The pause before "Autotune will never die" is gone too

42. To put it simply, R!Mischa didnt slay. O!Mischa slayed.

43. Why does Ricky have a box in his head. What the fuck. I know why but why.

44. It takes too fucking long for Mischa to get his. Uh. Thingy around the waist (fajín in spanish).

45. The Talia projection on the sheet/skirts is bad. Im sorry. Its just bad. Not as creative, not as perfectly-timed...

46. I miss the bit where Talia appears in Mischa's chest. As if it were his heart. It was so emotional yo

47. The dubstep part is not as good. I loved the circle with the fortnite dance.

48. Mischa is off tune by the end of the song

49. THE PART WHERE OCEAN IS SPED UP IS GONE.

50. The transition to Ricky is shit. Its just "yo why dont you go next"

51. R!Ricky not smooth. Ocean is weak to her knees for no reason.

52. The backstory changes for no reason???? Hes not disabled he just wont speak????? There truly was no need.

I'll admit it: this man Can Dance

53. UNDERWEAR JUMPSCARE. WHAT THE FUCK.

54. R!Ricky is less autistic coded. Hes just WEIRD. Inherently bad.

55. The space jesus line is delivered badly

56. R!Jane Doe doesnt fly.

Thats my only complaint, and its justifiable. R!Jane Doe is one of the few things done right here.

57. The New Birthday Song is less awkward in the beginning. Less like theyre making it up on the spot and more like they all knew it already.

58. I just realised the bit of LOVE CONQUERS ALL IS GONE.

59. Retroactively, NO PART OF "DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT WOULDVE HAPPENED IF TALIA AND MISCHA HAD MET?" . That was so poetic,,,,,, and now its gone,,,,,,

60. Ocean's breakdown isnt much of a breakdown.

R!Constance. Wow. I love her. She is the only other good thing in here.

61. I HATE R!Ocean

62. R!Ocean doesnt elaborate on why it shouldnt be her. She isnt self aware as the original.

63. The final montage doesnt show us her entire life. Sure, it shows her POV, but theres no old Penny.

64. Karnak breaks and talks normally afterwards.

65. They dont smile profoundly as they disappear. Thats the saddest change.

My final thoughts

It is a great show. This is not a decent show. Most of the songs sound off, except for Sugar Cloud and The Ballad of Jane Doe, and the acting is mediocre at best. 

Maybe it’s not as bad. Maybe the original is so good that it simply can’t measure up to it. 

Heck, maybe i’m conditioned after having watched it thousands of times.  Hate and love are two sides of the same coin: perhaps, had i not loved the original so much, i wouldn’t have hated this rendition as profusely. 

Regardless, I did not like the Blue Bridge version. 

Your lucky number is 7. Be sure to Ride the Cyclone. 

[mad-hunts]

the relationship that jack had forged with his father was different than the others in ways he couldn't explain. for example, in comparison to matilda whom always seemed to be hyperaware of where her and barton stood, jack felt like he never quite knew where he quote unquote 'was' with his own caretaker — leading to these issues he had with attachment that a therapist long ago once told him were likely due to the fact he grew up in such an unstable environment.

but flying the coop, though it sometimes seemed appealing, was not something jack felt like he could do. because despite everything that barton had put him and their family through, jack felt this strong sense of loyalty to the rest of his siblings as well as to his father. and its not like he had a stable job at the moment; he was trying to secure a spot with a ballet company, after all, which was his true dream. but jack was working part-time as a lifeguard in between all of his classes and ballet related events.

which actually wasn't that bad of a job all things considered. it reminded him at first of how, after julien had died, he'd been afraid of the ocean for several years however. it was like jack's heart was on overdrive even around small bodies of water back then. so developing the strength to overcome this fear was probably the best thing for jack. and considering what had happened to gotham in recent events (with the riddler flooding the city), it made him think about how lucky he was to have done so before that all occurred.

i mean, could you imagine what it would've been like if jack still had thalassophobia with the flood suddenly hitting gotham like it did? lets just say, jack was grateful that jervis filled up some of the silence in the room right after he was burdened with that train of thought. a lopsided smile spread across his lips at jervis's approving comments about colin. jack had actually been keeping the fact he had a boyfriend a secret from his father, for fear that barton would take one look at colin and tell him 'no.'

therefore, it felt good to hear that from someone. the only thing he uttered was a soft 'yeah' in response to that as his eyes darted to jervis's moving hand, ❝ okay. do you like your eggs scrambled, or sunny-side up? and do you want just butter on the bread or is strawberry jam also good with you? ❞ that, as far as he could remember, was the only type they had in the fridge. jack kept his gaze on the cards as jervis spoke now, but let him know he was listening by nodding to what the other was saying.

❝ well, i'd definitely say it's a process. but you know what's funny? i don't know if you believe in any sort of afterlife but... ❞ and that was where barton had cut in, standing at the doorway as if he was waiting to be invited in like a vampire. and trust me when i say the doctor knew that jervis was probably not thrilled to see him. for, not even barton's own son looked to be eager to see him, but maybe that was just because jack knew the two held a general distaste for one another? barton didn't know but he waited in silence in any case for the farceur to leave the room with the medicine he'd given jervis.

he stepped in then only to reveal that, although he wasn't in dire straits anymore, he was still hooked up to an IV on a pole: which was a humble reminder to barton that his degree of brain swelling couldn't go away on its own. though, he wished it could. the expression on his face when jervis spoke to him said all that needed to be said: barton didn't believe for a second that the other meant that. ❝ no, you want to see me burn in hell, don't you? the least you can do is be honest about it. ❞

he stated this in a very 'matter-of-fact' tone, as if the thought of someone hating him that much didn't affect him. an incredulous chuckle left barton's mouth afterward, though, and that wasn't nothing. he slowly but surely used that IV pole as leverage to drag himself over to the cabinet next to jervis's bedside. opening the bottom drawer revealed old clothes of barton's within it, ❝ ravi, the man you met down at the bistro we went to earlier today? he called me, and he immediately asked me if i was in some form of trouble. because ravi told me he had to lie to the cops about us being at the bistro. ❞

barton pulled out a clean shirt to replace his dirty and bloodied one with before turning to face jervis, ❝ and i thought we were in enough trouble already, but marty, the guy i killed was apparently the son of a police captain. meaning those pigs in the GCPD might not actually stop until they find us. so i might need your help with creating a very... elaborate plan to kill him. ❞

Poor Jack's anxiety was written all over his face and body language. Despite his efforts to appear calm and reassuring, Jervis could sense the strain beneath the surface. Though he disliked Barton, he couldn't bring himself to be indifferent. It wasn’t in his nature to ignore someone else's pain, and the last four hours must have been brutal for the Mathis siblings.

A part of Jervis was still ashamed that he had even lost consciousness under the physical and mental strain, sinking into the depths of his mind like something swept away by the Lethe’s currents—except, unlike the myth, Jervis couldn’t forget. His past, fractured as it was, stayed with him. And as much as his memories pained him, Jervis refused to let them go. Forgetting Alice and Sylvie would be like losing them all over again. That was unbearable.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought, and his hand instinctively reached for the chain beneath his collar, rolling his and Sylvie’s wedding rings like rings on an astrolabe.

He wasn't a fool. Jervis knew this was a difficult situation they had dragged Jack and Matilda into, and he felt sorry for both. But his empathy ran deepest for Jack. He didn’t know the young man well, but there was an unmistakable connection—a shared understanding, almost like neurons firing in unison. What had Sylvie once told him? Something about fungal hyphae—that they could sense their environment, responding to the slightest change. They weren’t like staid, immobile plants, she had said. Hyphae were dynamic, constantly adapting to their surroundings.

Even all these years, Jervis could still hear her voice, vividly recall the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of such things. "They feel their way through the world," she'd explained, with that endearing mixture of fascination and tenderness he had grown to love so well. "They detect ridges and surfaces, change their shape to fit. They know how to survive, how to grow, even in the strangest conditions."

It had stuck with him, the way she saw life in things most people overlooked. Jervis laid there, nodding faintly as Jack's voice washed over him; the parallel trains of thought made him pause. Maybe grief was like that too—constantly adapting, reshaping itself to fit the cracks in your soul.

Jervis’ hand loosened on the chain as he looked over at Jack, the faint clink of the rings barely audible as they slid along the silver links. He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping briefly. "Yeah... She was everything," he said quietly, almost to himself. His voice wavered, caught between the here and now and somewhere else entirely; hoarse but steadying. "Accepted every part of me, even the worst parts." His fingers tightened again, this time more gently, as if grounding himself.

Behind Jack, Sylvie was seated on the floor, legs folded casually beneath her. She tilted her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You always were too hard on yourself," she murmured, her tone light.

Jervis' breath hitched, his eyes briefly closing before refocusing on Jack. "You and Colin—he sounds good for you. Someone who keeps you on your toes, makes life richer." He paused, blinking slowly as though waking from a dream. "That’s… important."

Sylvie stood now, a faint shimmer at the edge of his vision, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm as she passed. "I’m still here, you know." Her voice was soft, steady. "You called me."

Jervis swallowed hard, his hand instinctively reaching for the space where her touch lingered before dropping back to his side on the mattress. "Breakfast for dinner sounds good," he said, almost absently, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think… I’d like that."

His eyes flicked once more to where Sylvie had been; gone without a trace, but the weight of her presence still lingered like a hint of smoke drifting in the breeze.

"You know…" Jervis started again, the words coming slowly as he glanced back at Jack while he began sifting through the tarot cards. "It's strange. Sometimes you think you’re done… that you’ve made your peace, and then the grief sneaks back up on you. Makes you feel like you’re right back where you started... it's almost enough to drive anyone mad... but it's a process, right?"

The moment shattered with a soft clearing of a throat from the doorway. Jervis tensed, every muscle recoiling. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Oh, bloody hell… this bloke, again?

It took everything in him not to snap at Barton to piss off. Irritation surged through his chest, white-hot, but exhaustion won out. He almost couldn’t bring himself to react, in all honesty, the weariness in his bones outweighing the anger... You’re like a damn cockroach… he thought, half-bitter, half-bemused. Terribly rude of you to interrupt.

"Hey, citrouille," Barton said casually to Jack. "Mind stepping out for a minute? I need to talk to Jervis."

Jack hesitated, glancing between his father and Jervis, but eventually rose. Barton patted him on the shoulder, tone light, as if unaware—or possibly indifferent—to the tension in the air.

As Jack left, Barton held up his phone, waving it in front of Jervis. "I just got an interesting phone call I thought you might want to hear about."

Jervis exhaled, met Barton’s gaze. It took every ounce of flagging willpower not to tell him exactly where he could stick his ‘interesting’ call. Sylvie’s presence slipped further from his mind, swallowed by the suffocating weight of Barton’s intrusion.

He forced a tired smile, his voice flat. "Glad to see you back on your feet," he finally muttered. "At least one of us is standing upright."

[arlert-angel]

love fast, die young ☪

♡ jean x fem!reader

❥ you know that at any moment your life could be cut short as a scout, and the last thing you want is to die a virgin, so why not ask your best friend that you’re in love with for some help?

❥ wc: 5.8k

❥ cw: near death experience (reader), virgin!reader and virigin!jean, cannonverse but no plot, loss of virginity, slight size kink, cream pie, aftercare, fluff

❥ note: i was invested in the story of this one lol, it's a lot more romantic than i initially intended. they’re aged up, but the cannonverse details don’t make sense for the plot, so let’s pretend it does yay.

Arriving back from expeditions was always an exhausting feat within itself, sometimes more so than the actual expedition. 

Commanding officers had to count their losses, healers had to tend to the wounded, and everyone who was good enough to stand had to report their kills and assists. Of course that was the immediate tasks that needed to take place, but then came the grief. Friends looked for one another, many people cried, and names could be heard shouted all around as everyone arrived at headquarters. 

You weren't that different, but you were silent as you scanned the crowd looking for your tall best friend. You knew he was with the best of the best in Levi's squad, so you weren't too worried. However, you also knew the previous best had been wiped out before the new group came. 

Anything could happen which made you all the more anxious. 

You and Jean were not on the same squad. You first were offered a position on the Levi squad with the rest of your friends, but then Hange handed picked you to help them with their experiments, claiming they needed your mind to work with them. Hange is very likeable and now one of your closest friends, and at the time it seemed impossible to say no to them.

Hange's and Levi's squad tended to work together a lot and definitely trained together, so you didn't miss your friends too much. It was only when expeditions approached and new formations were made, when you had to be separated from the rest of your 104th pals. 

You never complained about the separation. It wouldn't last forever, maybe a couple days at most, and then you return to laughing and working with the rest of your friends. You had no complaints until this particular expedition.

You had a close call.

In fact, so close, you might as well have kissed Death on the lips while you were so close to the afterlife. 

The mission was going according to plan. It was a simple scouting mission in the mountains that were, for the most part, titan free. Your squad was on the left flank of the formation, near the edge of the mountains. The cliff sides surrounding you guys held a beautiful, yet slightly scary view. The drop had to be at least 300 feet.

You should've known something bad was going to happen as soon as Hange called out, "Hey, Y/N, check it out!" But you weren't thinking that hard, for the day had been so peaceful. 

The path you all had taken was so close to the cliffs that the squad was riding single file for safety. There was enough room to pass one another, but you had to do so very carefully. 

You rode ahead, passing Moblit. You sent him a questioning look as went by, but he only shrugged, not knowing what Hange was raving over. When you slid off your horse and next to Hange you saw what they did.

A very large cave.

"Should we go inside?" Hange looked at you, clearly excited, but it was an awful idea.

"No!" You tried to sound stern, knowing how they needed a firm rejection or they'd always get what they wanted, "Do you see the size of the thing? This looks like a comfy home for a 10 meter titan, maybe even 15 meter class if they hunched over."

"Do you think they'd crawl around in there?!" Their eyes widened and the familiar look that you've seen so many times on their face appeared. It was their usual expression they had when you conducted experiments with them. You swore to yourself how you fed their curiosity on accident.

"What's going on?" Moblit now arrived, wondering what the hold up was about.

"They want to go inside that death trap," You pointed at the ominous cavern in front of you all. 

"You cannot be serious!" Moblit exclaimed in surprise, the volume echoing down the stone and dirt walls. Moblit continued his rant, stating the obvious, but you tuned their debate out. You just stared into what looked like an abyss. 

There was no movement, no noise, not even the breeze seemed to reach here.

But for some reason you had a gut feeling. A gut feeling that saved all of your lives.

"Move!" You shoved Hange into Moblit which effectively knocked them both to the side of the cave and used your ODM gear to swing yourself to the opposite side. 

The large hand reached out as you tried to get out of the way, but because you helped the others you weren't quick enough.

Luckily, the titan's grasp only managed to get tangled in your ODM wire and couldn’t quite reach your actual body. 

Unluckily, the titan was managing to drag you like a ragdoll and if you didn't do anything quickly you would be engulfed in the darkness where it was hidden, and then probably engulfed in it’s stomach. 

You had to think quick on your feet and so you drew your blades and slashed the wire on your gear all together. You could've attempted to slash at it's hands, but that was no guarantee. The wire was sliced with a clean snip.

Now you were free, you stumbled back at the loss of momentum. You took one two many steps back, and that last step didn't hit the gravely earth that the others had. 

Your foot didn't hit anything at all. 

You were about to fall off a cliff. 

Ironic to escape death one way only to quite literally fall into its clutches another way. 

But, you didn't fall. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut in absolute terror, and when you opened them at the lack of free fall, you saw Hange.

They had managed to save you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back on solid ground. Moblit had been keeping the titan at bay, and continued to do so as you and everyone else turned their horses carefully around. 

Thanks were shared by yourself, Hange, and Moblit at the different lucky saves. They praised your quick thinking and response. None of you actually saw the titan coming. You just knew. You seemed to recognize the familiar feeling of dread from the presence of a titan that wanted to eat you. Even if you couldn’t see it. 

Hange continuously apologized on the way back, but it wasn’t really their fault. It’s not like you actually entered the cave like they wanted. And it was probably a good thing you guys stopped when you did. If the group rode past the cave something worse might have happened.  

After that close call you wanted nothing more to find your best friend and have his familiar comfort.

"Y/N? Whatcha still doing out here?" You spun around quickly and saw Connie. 

“Oh, hey! I’m just looking for Jean, have you seen him?” You didn’t want to panic, but it was weird to see Connie without Jean. 

“Yeah! Mikasa killed this titan that had snuck up right above us and it’s blood got all over Jean it was so funny he screamed like a girl. But yeah, he went to the showers immediately,” Connie explained laughing at the memory. You laughed along and wished you could see it yourself.

“That’s funny, I should probably shower too, this mission felt particularly long,” You grumbled more to yourself than Connie, but he picked up on your off tone.

“Did something happen?” He asked genuinely concerned. You might’ve been closest to Jean, but Connie and Sasha were also very close to you. The four you always had the most fun together, and got in the most trouble. 

“Kind of, a titan snuck up on us too, but we were near the cliffs so there wasn’t all lot of room to work with. I almost fell, but on the bright side I overcame my fear of heights,” You laughed, but it was more anxious than joyful.

“Oh shit, that’s awful!” Connie’s eyes widened in horror, “I'll tell Jean to come find you when I see him.”

“What why?”

“You were looking for him right? He’d definitely want to know that you’re okay after that. He worries a lot, you know? It’s always: I hope Y/N okay, where’s Hange’s squad again, I wish Y/N was here, Y/N would love this view. Someone has to tell him to shut up at least once every expedition.” Connie actually did an okay Jean impression as he ranted to you, but you didn’t comment on it. 

You were too surprised. You didn’t know Jean worried about you. He never once came to you with any fears about expeditions. He always asked you what happened, but that’s just a normal conversation. It wasn’t too strange for someone’s best friend to think about them when apart. What was strange was the happy feeling you got knowing that Jean couldn’t shut up about you. A weird fluttery feeling danced in your stomach and you felt almost giddy.  

Connie noticed your lack of response and noticeably paled. 

“Fuck, wait, I didn’t tell you that! Jean’s gonna kill me, Y/N please don’t tell him I told you!” He grabbed onto you, begging. He shook you enough that it got you out of your confusing thoughts.

“Um, okay? I don't see what the big deal is. I think about Jean on expeditions too, that’s not weird right?” You smiled reassuringly and Connie’s whole body sagged in relief.

“Not at all! Have a nice shower!” Connie ran away, actually ran, trying to separate himself from that conversation. He thanked the Walls that you couldn’t read between the lines. 

After that odd conversation you got a change of clothes and towel, and then headed towards the showers. You passed Sasha and Mikasa on the way in and they both gave you pleasant greetings, all parties glad to see each other alive and well.

You tried not to overthink, but the hot shower gave you all the time to do so.

Your thoughts jumped from almost dying, to Jean, to these overwhelming feelings you seemed to harbor.

You knew you loved Jean. You both even told each other sometimes. Your mind never wandered further than viewing Jean as your best friend only because you didn’t think that’s what he’d want. 

When you first met Jean you had a small crush on him, admiring him from afar until Marco introduced the two of you. Once you grew closer and noticed his infatuation with Mikasa your feelings sizzled out in a bitter simmer. Your bitterness didn’t last long though, you were happy you had someone to rely on no matter what. After Marco passed, Jean was your crutch and vise versa. Romance would only make things confusing and besides you didn’t have any experience in the matter. 

But now as you think more and more about him you wondered if those feelings ever went away. You thought about his laugh and stupid tone he gets when he tries to act cocky. You thought about his eyes and how pretty they look in the sunlight. You thought about his ability to read your mind without you having to tell him something’s wrong. He was your person. 

You came to the conclusion that there definitely was something more than platonic there, but there was no certainty he felt the same. He would’ve said something by now. When he liked Mikasa he was so obvious, openly talking about her to everyone. You would’ve known something by now if it were the case, right? You knew he didn’t like Mikasa now, he told you explicitly for some reason, stating you needed to know. He also didn’t talk about liking anybody new. 

Sighing in frustration, you turned off the shower, now squeaky clean. What was supposed to be a relaxing shower just stressed you out because of your stupid brain’s overthinking. 

And it didn’t stop. As you dropped your messy uniform in the laundry, it reminded you of the day.   

Today proved that any moment could be your last. Being in the scouts has always been dangerous, and you knew you were a disposable soldier. You didn’t mind it much, but now you realized how little you had experienced. You had never been drunk, your only kiss was with Marco in a game of truth or dare, and you were a virgin. 

You didn’t want to die a virgin.

You thought of Jean. You wanted to be with him at least once before you died. You didn’t want to die without knowing how it felt to have everything with Jean. Your love for him definitely wasn’t platonic. You didn’t want to die without him knowing.

Your mind made up, you walked the halls with a little more determination than usual. You wandered around for only a couple minutes before running into Eren.

“Horseface is looking for you,” He pointed around the corner. You gave a quick thanks before quickly going in that direction only to collide with the person you were searching for.

“Y/N!” Jean surprised you by pulling you in a tight hug. As he pulled away he took note of the blush that was now on your cheeks, but didn’t comment. He also didn’t let you go completely, leaving his hands on your shoulders. Unable to help himself.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” You smiled genuinely, only slightly nervous now. Even with the giddiness he gave you, he still managed to calm you down.

“Me too, Connie said something happened with your squad, so I asked Hange about it and they told me everything,” His eyebrows were pulled into a worried furrow, “I wish you were in our squad.”

“Me too, but I like being with Hange too,” You stated honestly, “But it’s alright, everything worked out in the end.” 

“Yeah, but you almost fell off a cliff! Y/N if I lost you I’d…” He cleared his throat before shaking himself out of his thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You said you were looking for me, what for?”

“Oh! Um…” You looked around and saw Eren eavesdropping blatantly with a knowing look, causing you to quickly turn back around, “Can I talk to you in my room about something?” You shift your weight from side to side, visibly jittery. 

“Sure?” Jean was confused and noted you looked more flustered than before, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong like he usually could. 

You walked side by side, passing Eren along the way who gave you both a smug wave. When Jean wasn’t looking you turned around and gave him the finger. The walk was silent and your hands brushed each other softly.

Once you were behind closed doors you felt yourself relax a little more. It was just Jean, you hyped yourself up. Even if he did reject you the worst thing that could happen is him make a stupid joke out of everything, but you doubt he would. You knew he at least respected you.

“So, what’s so serious that you needed to be away from nosy Yeager?” So he did see that ass listening, you thought. 

“Well… You know about my close call today… It got me thinking,” You started safely.

“You can think? Like, there’s a brain in there?” Jean acted surprised and grabbed your head teasingly.

“Shut up,” You laughed and slapped his hands away before adding, “It’s serious.”

“Okay,” He took a seat on your bed comfortably, an action that was not unusual, you hung out in each other’s room all the time. He gave you his full attention, no longer joking around.

“I thought about how at any moment we can die, that sounds morbid, but it’s true. And then I thought about all the stuff I haven’t done and all the things I haven’t said,” You explained further, still not getting to the point. 

“So, you want to make a bucket list?” Jean tilted his head, trying to follow, “That’d be fun.”

“No,” You rolled your eyes lovingly, “I, more specifically, thought about all the stuff we haven’t done together.” 

“Oh, you want to make a bucket list together!” Jean perked up.

“Jean stop trying to guess and let me explain,” You laughed and he complied, pretending to zip his lips shut.

“Jean,” You approached the man, invading his personal space, “I don’t want to die a virgin, do you?”

“No…” Jean blushed at the sudden topic change, wondering why on earth you were bringing that up right now.

“And…  I love you, and I know you'd treat me right,” You cupped his cheeks in your hands. You were standing in between his legs now, him leaning back on his hands looking up at you. He was tall, so he didn’t have to tilt his neck that much. 

“I love you too, what are you going on about?” His face was drawn in clear confusion, a cute expression, if he wasn’t being so frustrating. 

“No, Jean,” You leaned impossibly close, your face right in front of his, “I’m in love with you.” 

Then you boldly straddled him before you planted your lips on him.

You were shy, unsure if he would reciprocate the kiss, and it seemed like he wasn’t.  You panicked instantly. Your heart was pounding and you pulled away. You were terrified you screwed everything up. You looked at him and he seemed to be frozen.

“Jean?” You worriedly looked at your catatonic friend whose eyes were wide in shock, “I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me!” You began to try to climb off him, but his hands shot to your hips, holding you in place.

“Y/N, you’re in love with me?” He still seemed to be stunned, or maybe he didn’t believe you, but he held your gaze with serious eyes. 

“Yes,” You made sure to keep eye contact despite the heat that rose to your cheeks, to make sure he knew you were dead serious. 

“Good,” One of his hands left your hips to your cheek. He guided your mouth back to his.

He was kissing you. He was actually kissing you. It was slow and sweet at first. He stroked your cheek lovingly and your lips slowly moved in sync. It was when you repositioned yourself on his lap, accidently grinding into him, when the kisses started to become more feverish. He groaned into your mouth and the hand left your face and found it’s new home on your ass. He squeezed it harshly, making you gasp. He took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours. He surprised you when he sucked on your tongue, making a small whimper escape you. 

Jean pulled away, taking in your flustered state with blown pupils of his own. Both of your lips were swollen and you both needed to catch your breath. 

“I love you too, you know?” Jean pushed some of your hair out of your face with a soft smile, “I figured you didn’t feel the same and wanted to just be friends, so I didn’t say anything.”

“I thought the same, or that you might still like Mikasa,” You admitted shyly, looking down where your bodies met.

“Hey,” He tilted your chin so you held eye contact again, “That was a stupid crush when I was kid, and I told you that ended a long time ago, didn't I? I’m in love with you.”

“We were so stupid keeping it to ourselves,” You laughed and Jean openly admired you in what looked like awe. His gaze made you feel bashful, almost wanting to hide your face with your hands.

“We were, I could have been kissing you so much sooner,” Jean mumbled, already leaning back to you. This time when your lips met your tongues danced together immediately. You knew Jean also didn't have much experience, but with the way he kissed it seemed like he did. 

"Did you mean what you said?" Jean pulled away only for a moment to ask before returning right back to your lips. 

You pulled away, trying to decipher what he was referring to. "Wha–" Your breath hitched when you felt Jean kiss your pulse on your neck. He began sucking on a particular spot that made you moan, surprising both of you. 

"You're so beautiful," He commented then explained, "Did you mean what you said about that virgin stuff?" He seemed shy all of sudden, his hands were sliding from your hips to your thighs, almost like he was trying to soothe himself.

"I meant every word," You said honestly, "I want to experience all of you."

"God," Jean seemed to like that statement, "I don't know what I'm doing, so just know I'm learning as I go. Just tell me what you like and don't like."

"Of course," You gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm not worried, I trust you."

"Good," He said again before spinning you around and lightly throwing you on your bed. He hovered over you, not putting much, if any weight on you. He resumed the make out session, but this time letting his hands wander.

He first tugged at your shirt, which you helped him quickly pull over your head. You hadn't worn a bra, assuming your plans for this evening were eating then just passing out. 

Jean seemed to drink your body in, just staring in lust and awe. 

"You can touch me," You tried to sound reassuring, but it sounded more like a beg. 

Jean took your breasts in his large hands and just felt you. You almost laughed at how mesmerized he looked, but that was when he latched his mouth on your nipple. That action seemed to send a current of electricity straight to the heat in between your legs. You arched your back and let out a surprised moan which made Jean quickly pull away. 

"Did I hurt you?" He looked scared.

"No, it feels good," You murmured as you unconsciously rolled your hips wanting friction.

"Oh, that's good," He shot you a grin before throwing his own shirt to the side. He went back to kissing your chest, this time his hand tweaked the nipple he wasn't sucking on, causing even more pleasure. You bit your lip only letting out whimpers, a little embarrassed of moaning so loudly again. 

"J-Jean," You stuttered out, gripping his broad shoulders.

"Hmm?" He hummed, he had been having fun leaving purple marks across your tits.

"I-I need…" You didn't finish.

"What do you need, princess?" He asked genuinely, but his deep tone sent shivers down your spine.

"More, I don't know," You admitted.

"Okay, don't worry," He gave you a peck, "I'll take care of you."

He began taking off your pants, helping you get them off your ankles. He stood to take off his own pants as you admired him. His body was so toned from the life of being a soldier. As you took him all in your eyes landed on the bulge that was very prominent in his briefs and for the first time you felt nerves about having sex with him. 

"Jean, how the hell is that supposed to fit in me?" You didn't even see it out of it's cage, you couldn't imagine that monster in action. 

"It has to fit right? People have sex all the time," Jean looked down at his own dick before looking at your panties with a frown, "I'll make sure to stretch you out with my fingers to help."

"What do you mean?" You blushed as Jean returned his body on top of you, giving you warmth again. This time putting a little more weight than last time. You could feel his restrained cock against you this time. 

"You know, fingering, you've done it to yourself before right?" Jean asked curiously. 

"I've tried, but I couldn't reach any particular spots that made me feel good, so I mostly just got off with my clit," You explained, a little embarrassed. 

"Well, I have long fingers," Jean began to slip off your last item of clothing. You gulped nervously, you now were exposed completely to him.

"So pretty, and you're wet," He groaned and looked back up to you, "Open your mouth."

You almost asked why, but you didn't want to kill the mood, so you complied. Jean slid two fingers into your mouth and you got the message. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks, sucking on them. 

"Fuck," He sighed out and you felt him twitch against you. 

He pulled his fingers out and moved them back between your legs. He first slowly thrusted one finger inside you, to get you used to the unfamiliar feeling. The stretch wasn't too painful, and he was definitely right. His fingers were longer. 

He moved the one finger in and out of you slowly at first, picking up the pace as he continued. When he felt you relax completely he added a second finger. This time the stretch was a little more, making you tense.

"You're so tight," Jean was watching your pussy in wonder and slid his body down, so his face was near it. 

"What are you– Oh my God," Jean's lips sucked on your clit softly, then continuously kitten licked it, all while maintaining his finger thrusts.

"You taste good," Jean said it so casually, you'd think he was talking about the weather. He removed his fingers for a moment to get a better taste. He kissed you directly on your cunt before penetrating you with his tongue. He moaned against you, sending vibrations into you. You tried to unconsciously escape the pleasure, your thighs attempting to close, but Jean's large hands held you down. 

He returned his fingers inside you and this time adding a third. It stung more than before, but Jean's mouth on your clit made you forget all about the uncomfortableness. He began curling his fingers inside you reaching a spot that instantly had a knot forming in your stomach. Your hands shot around you, one gripping the sheets and the other in Jean's hair. 

He latched onto clit again and you gave up on trying to quiet your moans, embarrassment be damned, it felt too good.

"Jean," You moaned his name, which only made him moan back in return, "I-I'm going to…" You whined a little, not quite there yet, but right on the edge.

"You're going to cum?" Jean asked, not even completely pulled away from your clit to do so, "Go ahead and cum on my fingers, baby." He quickened his strokes and returned to your clit. It was just enough to send you over.

You grinded into his hand and cried out. Jean moaned too as if he was being pleasured just at the sight of you or maybe it was because of the sensation of your tight pussy clamping around his fingers. He couldn't help himself and licked up some of your release, making you jump. 

He moved back up to you with a content smile, "Did that feel good?" 

"Yeah," You smiled back through half lidded eyes, still buzzing from the pleasure.

He gave you a deep kiss and you could taste yourself on him. Tasting your own saccharine flavor was strangely erotic. 

Jean pulled away, "Is it alright if I take my cock out?" He asked beforehand just in case you changed your mind. 

"Yeah, of course, I want to see the monster that's going to destroy me," You joked and earned yourself a cocky smirk.

Jean took off the only clothing that was separating the two of you. You glanced down and saw his size more visibly now. You were right to be intimidated before, he was huge. Jean seemed to take note of your apprehensive expression so he returned to giving you some kisses in order to soothe you. 

“We’ll take it slow and if it’s too much just tell me,” Jean assured you which helped calm you down. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” Your eyes met as he began to rub the head up and down between your folds, collecting its wetness. He rubbed it over your clit and back down, making you feel particularly tingly. When he started pushing the head inside you had to remind yourself to not tense up, but it was hard. He was stretching a lot more than his fingers did. His cock added an unfamiliar pressure inside you that his fingers didn’t.

“God, that’s just the head and you're already squeezing me,” Jean threw his head back trying to regain composure. It was also his first time and he did not want to embarrass himself by finishing quickly. Also the gentlemen inside him wanted to feel you cum around him first.

He slowly continued to push further in as you grabbed his arms to brace yourself. When he finally bottomed out you swore you could see the bulge on your tummy. He kept still and waited for you to give him the go ahead even though he had the incredible urge to just thrust forward.

“You alright?” Jean's voice was more strained than usual.

“Yeah, why the fuck you gotta be so big, Jean,” Which only made Jean smile and give an apology kiss. You took a few more moments getting used to the stretch when the pleasure overtook the pain. You felt the veins on his cock inside you. You felt so full, but so good. You grinded into him trying to feel more and Jean noticed.

“I’m going to start moving now,” Jean warned and began pulling back before snapping his hips forward. You both cried out how he filled you up, your walls fluttering around him.

The pace was unrushed and steady to begin with. He withdrew his cock only to plunge it back into you, hitting you deep, in a repetitive matter. You felt the pleasure everywhere, all the way in your toes. 

You started meeting his thrusts, moving your hips in order to do so. Jean hitched your leg higher which only made you feel him deeper, hitting a sweet spot that caused you to gasp.

“You can go faster,” You said breathlessly, “Please, Jean, it feels so good.”

“Fuck,” Jean moaned back, his slow deep thrusts turned into a quick pounding. He continuously hit that new spot every time. Your whimpers turned into uncontrollable moans. Not wanting to make too much noise you buried yourself into the crook of his neck, sucking and biting his skin. 

You briefly looked down where your bodies met and saw him pumping out of you, your slick covering his cock and your thighs. The sight made your eyes roll back into your head.

“Please,” You moaned into Jean who brought his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Please, what? What do you want, princess?” He grunted a bit after, not once did he lose his pace.

“I want… Ah… Please, I don’t know,” You felt like you could cry, you were right on the edge. You didn’t know what you needed, but you felt too good to try to figure it out. You figured he was close too by the way he was twitching inside your pussy and his thrusts became a little more desperate. 

“Open,” Jean brought his fingers back to your mouth, groaning at the sensation. He kept them there for a few more moments than necessary, just enjoying the way you looked with your pretty lips wrapped around him. 

Then he brought them between your legs and began rubbing your clit at the same pace he was thrusting into you.

“J-Jean, I’m gonna cum,” You grabbed his wrist, almost overwhelmed by the feeling. 

You cried out his name as your pussy milked him, triggering his own release. He groaned your name as he came. You felt the warmth of him spill deep inside you and it made your pussy tremble all the more. He gave a few final thrusts before slumping on top of you.

“Look at me while you cum, princess, come on, cum on my cock,” He encouraged you. You held eye contact for as long as you could, but when that coil in your tummy snapped you had to squeeze your eyes shut in absolute bliss.

“We definitely should’ve done that sooner,” He mumbled into your hair, making you giggle.

“Definitely,” You echoed back.

He slid out of you after that, making both of your bodies shudder at the loss of connection. You pussy still trying to pulse around something.

“I just showered,” You commented with a frown, looking at the mess between your legs. 

“I’ll go get a towel?” Jean offered, and you gave him a nod. He redressed quickly, kissed you deeply, then stated he would be back soon.

You threw your shirt back on while you waited. You felt so sleepy after that. Even though you wanted to feel clean, you wished you cuddled with Jean some more, already missing him.

After a couple more minutes the silence was broken.

 “I knew it!” You heard Eren’s familiar voice shout from outside your door and you sat up confused.

“Shut the fuck up before I hit you!” You heard Jean’s voice shout back and then a few more quieter exchanges that you couldn’t make out from the two men. Then your door opened fast, Jean slipping quickly inside, locking it behind him. In one hand he had a warm towel and in the other he had a new set of sheets. 

“What happened?” You pointed at the door and Jean scowled.

“Apparently those assholes bet on when we’d finally hook up,” Jean explained before cleaning you up. You blushed as he took care of you. Despite what just took place you still felt embarrassed. Jean noticed and just pecked your cheeks.

“That’s kind of funny, we should’ve placed our own bets,” You hummed and stood shakily, grabbing a new pair of underwear as Jean changed your sheets for you. 

“I can’t believe Eren won,” Jean frowned, but when your arms wrapped around him from behind he couldn’t help but smile.

“Will you stay with me? I kind of want to nap,” You mumbled into his back.

“Of course,” You both returned to your bed this time with more innocent intentions.

Jean laid on his back and you threw your arm around his chest and your leg over his, snuggling up into his side.

“I don’t want to die,” You murmured sleepily.

“You won’t,” Jean stated firmly.

“How do you know?” You looked up at him.

“Because we both have something to live for,” He met your gaze softly, before kissing your head again.

You told each other you loved another once again before you both fell asleep. It was a sleep where neither of you had the common nightmare about your untimely deaths. 

Instead it was a sleep where you both dreamt of the future you now could have with one another.

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 2: No Vacancy

Title: Backroad Romance

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,119

Tags: First Kiss, Dean Winchester and Castiel are Alone in the Dark, Mild Angst With a Happy Ending, Sam Ships It, Making out in the Impala

On AO3 Here

“You’re shittin’ me, Sammy.” Dean groans and smacks the steering wheel with his palm. “There’s no room in the whole place?”

Sam’s voice floats into the Impala, high and tinny over the burner phone’s speakers. “No vacancy, Dean, I’m sorry, I checked with them three times--”

“--Nah, nah, it’s cool, we believe you,” Dean interrupts, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear so he can rub his face while steering around a bend. Cas reaches over and deftly slips the phone away, fingers pinched like he’s removing a block from a Jenga tower.

“Did you and Eileen find accommodations?” Cas asks, holding the phone out in front of him so Dean can listen in.

There’s a short pause, then: “Yeah… yeah, we did, but guys, the room is really small, like, a closet, I swear, and there’s only one bed, and--”

This time it’s Cas who interrupts. “--and you wish to engage in private romantic activities. Dean and I completely understand.”

They’re on a straight stretch of highway, but Dean still manages to swerve clumsily into the shoulder. He hastily course-corrects and bites down the urge to snap at Cas for-- for what? For talking like that? For using his deep, rough voice to say any words even vaguely related to--

No. It’s not Cas’ fault that everything he does steadily turns Dean into more and more of a creep. Dean shakes his head firmly and tunes back in to the conversation just in time to catch Sam awkwardly stumbling over his reply. Dean leans over, cutting him off with a whistle into the phone.

“We’ll be fine, little brother. Be a gentleman. Don’t hog the sheets. Girl like Eileen doesn’t come around every day.”

He can feel the bitchface radiating through the speaker and motions at Cas to hang up. Cas frowns and gravely says “Dean would like to end the conversation. Goodbye, Sam,” before flipping the phone shut. He drops it into the cupholder.

Dean makes a show of focusing on the road to avoid looking at Cas. He knows Cas is staring at him; it’s just something the guy does, sitting in the passenger seat and gazing at Dean as if the whole world isn’t flashing by outside.

Dean’s long stopped commenting on it. Let the dude stare.

He clears his throat. “We’ll probably have to find a logging road or something. Pull in and hole up for the night.”

“All right,” Cas replies. He opens the glovebox and pulls out the local map they picked up this afternoon when they rolled into Matlock, Washington, to investigate a haunted post office. It was a gray, dinky, bleak town and the poor ghost lurking around the mailroom seemed more melancholy than anything. She allowed them to dispatch her into the afterlife with very little struggle; that is, after some creative sweet-talking by Sam.

Eileen had teased Sam mercilessly about it before Dean had even gotten a chance. That’s how Dean knows she’s The One.

There was, of course, no motel in town. Sam and Eileen hit the road before Dean and Cas, because Dean insisted on getting a burger for dinner at the tiny diner on Main Street (a mistake). Now he’s staring down the barrel of a night alone with Cas, in cramped quarters, on a dark backroad. If they hadn’t already driven all day to get to Matlock, Dean would push on until they found a motel with vacancies, but he’s exhausted and Cas is just human enough these days to actually be tired too.

“There’s an access road nearby,” Cas says, tracing the map with his index finger. “In a quarter mile. Left.”

Dean follows his directions and sure enough, there’s a bumpy logging road branching off from the highway, stretching deep into the pitch-black trees. Dean pulls in about five hundred feet before turning off the lights and the ignition.

It’s silent. The darkness is all-encompassing, pressing in on Dean, so heavy it’s like he can feel it on his eyelids when he blinks. He takes a slightly shaky breath. Cas is utterly still, as usual, not a single rustle or exhale indicating his presence in the gloom, but Dean feels him there as intensely as he’d feel a roaring bonfire. His heart thuds in his ears.

Why is he freaking out? He’s slept in the car with Sam a million times. But even as he thinks that, he knows, he knows, that this is different. His brain starts whirling through logistics -- who’s gonna take the back seat? Is Cas even gonna sleep the whole night? Or will he wake up and just sit there, staring at Dean for hours, inches away?

Dean needs to shut off his brain. He taps the seat and says “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” comes the immediate response, measured and reassuring. “Would you like to talk?”

Relaxing against the seat and slinging an arm over the backrest, Dean peers over to the passenger side. “Sure.”

The moon’s out tonight, far above the trees, and the grayscale of nighttime slowly bleeds into view as Dean’s eyes adjust. He can just make out the sharp angle of Cas’ nose, the slope of his chest and the outline of his hands folded in his lap. He’s always so upright, so proper. Dean wonders what it would feel like to undo him.

“Are Sam and Eileen having sex?”

Dean chokes on air. Sputtering, he braces himself on the seat and coughs until his eyes stop watering. “What?” he wheezes. “Why-- Dude, why would you ask that?”

He sees Cas turn his head to regard him. Even in the dark, Dean can imagine the piercing gaze.

“It was unclear to me what you meant by ‘be a gentleman.’” Cas lifts his hands to shape the finger quotes. “I assumed the two of them would take advantage of their privacy to engage in physical intimacy. Was your comment meant to discourage Sam from having sex?”

Dean throws up his hands desperately. “Okay-- okay, first of all, quit talking about my brother doing it. And second, no, I wasn’t ‘discouraging’ him, just reminding him to treat Eileen like a lady. You know, romance her a little.”

The darkness is a godsend as Dean’s cheeks flush hotter with every word. He’s surprised they’re not glowing. He taps the seat in a random pattern as Cas sits quietly, seemingly digesting the information.

When he responds, it’s slow and thoughtful. “In the pornography I’ve watched, the participants always begin undressing one another rather quickly. And in my own experiences, there has been very little that I would label ‘romantic.’ What is classified as ‘romance,’ Dean?”

Well, shit. The last of Dean’s composure evaporates, sizzles away like a drop of water meeting his burning face. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

Cas leans forward, his knee brushing Dean’s. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks, voice laden with concern.

Dean’s throat is tight, his fingers sweaty against his forehead. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to at least open his eyes against the shadow of his palms. “Uh-- no. No, Cas. You, uh-- you should be able to ask that kinda stuff. Human stuff. I get that it’s, uh-- it’s important to know. For, y’know. So you can--”

There’s a hand on his knee. A warm, strong hand. Long fingers. Weighty. Dean’s heart kicks into overdrive. He slowly, very slowly, lowers his hands to peek at Cas.

“How do you like to be romanced, Dean?”

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing in Dean’s brain. It’s a chamber of silence. A void. He stares at the outline of Cas’ wild hair, mouth slightly open.

“...Dean?” The hand on his knee shifts slightly and Dean’s blank brain runs zero interference as his own hand darts out and stills the one threatening to leave his leg. As soon as his skin makes contact with Cas’, though, everything zings back online in a rushing roar.

Play it off, Winchester. Crack a joke. C’mon. “Hah, funny, buddy, you really got me there--”

“--Kissing’s nice.”

He snaps his mouth shut too late. The words float away, unrecoverable.

Cas tilts his head. Then, slowly, very slowly, as if he’s afraid of spooking Dean, he turns his hand around under Dean’s so that they’re palm to palm. An invitation.

With a pounding heart, Dean accepts it. He laces their fingers together. His palm feels even sweatier when it’s rubbing up against Cas’ dry, smooth skin.

Sexy, Dean. Way to go.

Somehow, even though it was Cas asking the questions, he’s the one leading now, shifting closer, laying his left arm along the backrest behind Dean’s shoulders. Their faces are so close that they’re sharing air, just two shadows suspended in a frozen moment.

“May I kiss you?” Cas murmurs gently, his breath washing over Dean’s lips. It smells like rain-refreshed air, like a promise of sunshine, alleviating the weight of the darkness. Dean tentatively chases it with his tongue, wetting his lips and leaving them parted.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. Because fuck, he wants this. He’s wanted this for so long.

And Cas wants it, too.

Dean always imagined that his first kiss with Cas would be an inferno, fireworks, showering sparks, all those cliches. That it would yank him from his body and send him floating through the ether.

It’s not like any of that. It’s better. It’s real.

Cas’ lips are just lips -- a little more chapped than Dean’s used to, perhaps, but they meet his in a familiar brush, followed by the typical tentative press, leading into a hesitant swipe of the tongue.

He’s kissing Cas. Cas, who he’s built up in his head for so long as this untouchable, impossible ideal, who stormed Hell to drag him out, who smote demons with his bare hands, who is so inconceivably old that Dean should be just a speck of sand under his eternal gaze.

Instead, that same Cas is busy dragging his fingers down the side of Dean’s neck. A crest of goosebumps follow, shivers trailing down Dean’s torso, and he gasps a quivery breath against Cas’ lips. He’s not used to being led. Normally he’s the one in charge, giving as good as he gets, focused on hitting the highlights, satisfying his partner. There’s a whole formula.

He’s never trembled like this before.

“Dean,” Cas whispers against his mouth, reverent, his voice somehow gravelly even as a breath. He suddenly pulls his hand free from Dean’s and grips his bicep, dropping his other arm from the backrest to wrap around Dean’s waist. Without preamble, he twists, tugging Dean across his lap. Dean yelps and hurriedly adjusts his legs, ending up with his knees on the seat, straddling Cas’ thighs. His fingers and toes are zinging in excitement.

Goddamn. Who knew being manhandled would do it for him?

The crown of his head presses against the roof of the car and he slouches forward until their foreheads are touching. He pushes his hands into Cas’ hair.

Cas surges forward again, nudging Dean’s head to the side and pressing his lips to Dean’s neck. Dean groans, low and shaky, as Cas parts his lips and sucks a trail up to Dean’s earlobe, his tongue soothing in the wake of his mouth, dragging over every mark that he coaxes to the surface. Dean knows his neck will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he finds he can’t bring himself to care, not when Cas’ teeth are busy grazing the shell of his ear.

“Jeez, Cas,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. He's hard already, hips twitching a little, but he keeps his hands firmly in Cas’ hair, tugging the soft, thick strands, guiding Cas’ mouth back down to his neck. His pulse hammers under each press of chapped lips.

He pulls back and captures Cas’ mouth again, sliding his tongue into that wet heat. They trade open-mouthed kisses, a bit sloppy, while Cas’ hands glide up Dean’s back under his flannel. Dean’s absolutely flying, his pounding heart easily winning the battle against the tiny voice in his head dredging up reasons to stop, reasons to run.

He wants to stay .

Their kisses have escalated to a panting, frenzied give-and-take, and Dean’s tired of hunching over. He drops his hands onto Cas’ shoulders and starts leaning back over to the driver’s seat, trying to pull Cas on top of him. Cas whines when their lips separate, but he catches on quickly. A little too quickly. He grips Dean’s waist and shifts him along the bench seat with such force that Dean’s arm goes flying and his elbow smacks right into the middle of the steering wheel.

The horn blares, rending the night.

Both Dean and Cas jerk upright, instantly on high alert. Reality takes a moment to catch up with them.

Cas recovers first. “That startled me,” he says, voice wrecked.

Dean lets out a long breath. He’s still got one leg up on the seat, the other one cramped awkwardly next to the steering wheel. He drags a hand across his face and lets out a breathy laugh. The next thing he knows, he’s doubled over, laughing so hard his cheeks hurt and his eyes water.

He’s just so goddamn happy.

Cas watches him, head tilted in the shadows. Dean lets his laughter run its course, petering out with a sigh of mirth and hand slapped on Cas’ knee.

“What a night, huh?” he says.

Cas lifts a hand and strokes Dean’s cheek with his knuckles. Even after all that making out, this one gesture seems inordinately intimate. But Dean just smiles.

Cas swipes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone one more time before slowly, almost reluctantly, letting his hand fall. “You need to sleep.”

Dean nods and glances into the backseat. “You do too, don’t you? At least a bit? Maybe we can both fit back there.”

They get out of the car -- the cool night air rushes into Dean’s lungs and fizzes through his chest, bringing the events of the past half hour into blood-rich focus in his brain. He steels himself for the freakout, for the doubt and the deflection, but it doesn’t come. He feels right.

They crawl into the backseat, awkwardly shuffling and shifting, ending up with Cas sitting mostly upright (insisting that he’s fine) and Dean laid out on the seat with his head in Cas’ lap.

He drops off to sleep faster than he has a long time, Cas’ long fingers carding through his hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the light that wakes him, pale gray seeping under his lashes and rousing him from a blissfully dreamless sleep. He lifts his head and immediately winces -- his neck is stiff as a board and his back aches all the way down to his tailbone. He’s really getting too old to be sleeping in the car.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean twists around and peers blearily up at Cas, who’s gazing down at him with one of his rare enigmatic smiles. Dean yawns and stretches as best he can, his back popping. He pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to Cas.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Cas leans over and, before Dean can react, presses a warm, dry kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Sore body or not, this is the best morning of Dean’s life.

They extract themselves from the backseat and stumble into the damp early-morning air. Dean pops the collar of his flannel after a single glance into the side mirror. He’s got a lot of hickies.

They take a second to stretch (Dean admires the way Cas’ pecs shift under his dress shirt as he reaches for the sky) before sliding into the front seat. Dean backs them out of the logging road, the verdant green pines on either side nearly overwhelming his night-accustomed eyes.

Cas calls Sam as they roar down the highway again. It’s only 5 a.m., but Dean handed Cas the phone and told him to give Sam a wakeup call. The kid deserves it after a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

They pull into the parking lot of the Cedar Crest Motel just past 5:30. Dean ends up having to park on the street, though, because the lot’s at capacity, not a single spot unoccupied. He pats Baby in apology as he leaves her, and he and Cas make their way to the room number that a very irritated, cranky Sam snapped at them over the phone.

They’ve almost reached it when Dean suddenly stops dead. He grabs Cas’ arm. Cas shoots him a questioning glance.

“Look." Dean points up at the motel sign. There, huge red letters, blinking through the pale morning light, spell out a clear VACANCY.

“It’s hardly been six hours," Dean says. "No one would’ve checked out in the middle of the night.”

Suspicion rising rapidly, he strides to Sam’s door and knocks as obnoxiously as he can. As soon as the door creaks open, he reaches through and grabs Sam’s shirt, yanking him outside. Sam protests and slaps at Dean with one hand, shoving his bird’s nest hair out of his face with the other.

“What the hell, Dean!”

Dean just throws one arm up at the sign, staring at Sam with raised eyebrows. As soon as Sam sees what he’s pointing at, he shrinks into what Dean immediately recognizes as guilty little brother posture. He’s not even trying to hide it.

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, eyes darting between Dean and Sam, before holding out a placating hand. “I just-- I just thought, maybe you could use some time alone,” he explains hastily, backing up a bit into the room. “If we all ended up here, Dean, you’d insist that we share, you know you would.”

Dean knows Sam’s right (he’s careful with their fake money, so sue him), but he keeps glaring regardless.

“I just wanted some time with Eileen,” Sam mumbles, deflating a bit. “And I thought, y’know, with how you and Cas have been acting lately, that you’d-- uh, that you’d want some time together, too.”

Dean sputters. “Acting? We-- what--”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas says, deep voice cutting off Dean’s protests. “We had a very pleasant night.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he straightens up, a knowing grin stretching over his face. His eyes dart to Dean’s popped collar. “Oh yeah? Did you now?”

Dean shoves him into the room and slams the door shut. There. He turns to Cas, who looks amused.

“Give me at least a couple days before blabbing to my brother,” Dean says, but he finds himself smiling. Cas nods. He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, just for a moment, squeezing before letting it fall again.

“Of course, Dean.”

[daceystvrk]

feray's forgiveness was a relief, but dacey still stood ill at ease, so sure she had said the wrong thing, and so unsure she entirely deserved the grace. there was a grace to the way she carried herself that dacey could never truly hope to emulate. so rarely did she speak of jon, and never without a tightness in her chest, an intensity she wished not to speak of. grief, to dacey, was an exposed nerve, to be concealed and protected from poking and prodding, and yet to feray, it seemed to be something quite different.

"you have more strength than most," she added, after a pause. "more than me." it was a strength that came from faith. that much was plain to any who knew feray locke. it was not that dacey did not have faith of her own, just that it was different. the afterlife feray spoke of was nothing like the teachings dacey had grown up with. "it is a lovely thought." it might have sounded patronising, if not for the utter sincerity in dacey's voice. "it might not be what my gods teach, but there is much peace in the thought." and children who had already faced hardship so young deserved nothing more than peace.

"it is never quiet in winterfell," she managed a smile. "there is too much life in the walls." and that was the way it should be, even if she often felt like a ghost, a relic of the past watching life continue around her. "it is funny, sometimes life seems too loud to bear, and at other times the quiet is crushing. there's never an in-between." it was more of a musing than something she expected feray to provide a solution to, if she could even understand it. "i'm sorry. a silly thought."

her head tilted a little at mentions of the ravens, expression softening. "i think i'd like that." her mother had been of house blackwood. the sight and sounds of ravens always reminded dacey of her. "clever birds."

she had become used to people not sure what to say, or apologising for accidentally saying something that might hurt her. but the truth was that anything rarely did. she had grown stronger in these last couple of moons. “do not fret, dacey.” she finally used her real name. there was a kind smile on her lips, but it was not wide or particularly joyous. there was always a tint of sadness to it now. except for a few moments where she felt like herself again, how she had been before the war, before she had to rely on poppy milk.

feray had never found it too difficult speaking of her brothers. she believed it helped her to be able to talk about them. then it was not all in her head and heart. “i do not mind speaking of grief and loss. i do mourn my brothers, and i wish every day they were here, but i also know we will see each other again.” without her faith, she did not believe she would have lived through the loss. she would not have been able to deal with her mother's sudden silence, or her father's pain that was so great he never left oldcastle any more, which meant she had to take on certain responsibilities as ruling lady in his stead. the war has done its damage, they all had to find a way to move on in peace. “i hope the children will find comfort in it as i have.”

she had no ambition to spend much time in winterfell, happy to stay home and at white harbor with amir. “thank you. winterfell is the heart of the north, so let us hope that it never grows quiet.” it should never become as quiet as oldcastle has become. “if you come visit, we can go see the ravens. i cannot claim that they are quiet, but luckily they are kept some distance away from the keep.”

[science-lings]

BOTW/ Linked Universe Fic WIP’s

THIS POST IS OUT OF DATE AND INACCURATE, THE CURRENT ONE IS PINNED ON MY BLOG

Of Dubious Sophistication: 2/? posted chapters, Wild meets the chain on a day where he has to act like a person and decides to fuck with their misconceptions of him.

The Silence of the Knight: BOTW pre-calamity fic that’s mostly an introspective fic about why Link went silent and how everyone around him reacts to his lack of outward emotions. I just saw the concept of people seeing him as not quite human because of his refusal to show any emotions and wanting to catch a glimpse of how/ if he reacts when tragedy strikes, just to see if he has the ability to feel anything at all.

Unpublished fics under the cut, please let me know if any of them interest you so I can prioritize what I should focus on writing!

Free to Hide: Zelda and Link attend a festival in disguises unbeknownst to each other and they end up spending the whole time together without knowing that there are eyes in the darkness watching them. Spy thriller/ romcom vibes. Also there’s gender stuff because Link wears a dress and Zelda is almost exclusively referred to with neutral pronouns. 

The Last Champion: Wild gets all the champions abilities after their spirits move on, but in a more similar way to how they used them, mostly just Hyrule and him becoming magic buddies and Wild learns how to use his new magic abilities. 

Between the Doors of Death: A mix of both LU and BOTW as it takes place while Wild is dead and he hangs out with his ghostly incarnations and dead family members. Lot’s of family headcanons and an appearance from the 10k hero. 

No Goodbye is Forever: How the last day with the chain happens and everything after. Meeting up in the afterlife and a little bit of keeping Wild company during BOTW2. 

Another Second Chance: classic Wild gets pulled into the AOC timeline and is tasked to help prevent the calamity. But he looks different enough from his counterpart that he doesn’t reveal his true identity. He accidentally parallels Astor in the whole mysterious sorcerer/ seer vibes as he both knows the future and popped out of nowhere in a dramatic cape and ancient technology. Lots of interaction between Wild and the champions and there is both angst and hijinks. There’s also stuff about the new champions as most of it follows the plot of AOC. Also Wolfie is there because I thought it would be funny for him to bop around the baby egg guardian.

Tainted Blood: Time, Twilight, and Wild are related. How they find out and how the magic that they used affects the bloodline. Malon as Malanya because I love the idea that she just turns into an eccentric horse god and was waiting for a child she had already met. 

Son of the Storm: BOTW fic centered around Urbosa and Link because I love her and her mom energy is perfect. Definitely some gender stuff and found family vibes. Link deserves a mom and Urbosa saw this short blond child and didn’t even ask if anyone else was going to adopt him she just did it. 

The Cruelty of Destiny: BOTW Fem!Link fic focused on how being the first female incarnation of the Heroes Spirit would be treated with a little bit of Zelink as forbidden fantasy lesbians. Link is angry and all of her past lives are just as pissed as she is. She’s seen as a harbinger of the calamity rather than the hero sent to stop it. And she’s seen as a mistake of the goddess and proof that the 10,000 years of peace was now at an end. General woman problems you know?

Hylia’s Chosen Children: BOTW Link and Zelda catch up on being shitty kids after the Calamity and preparing for it stole their childhoods from them. Pure fluff, let them be kids please. Lots of pranks and sleepovers with Riju and stuff like that. They’re both trying to learn how to be regular people without absolutely massive responsibilities. 

The Bloodline of the Wolf: Similar to the one before as it’s focused on Time, Twilight, and Wild and how they’re biologically related but this one is more about their canon relationships and answering questions that the comic gave me. Like why only Twilight and Time know about Wild’s memories despite how we are to assume that the entire chain kind of came together at once, why them and all that. 

When You Can’t Die: Wild and his strange relationship with death, as someone who has been resurrected countless times and literally cannot die. He still has the champions abilities and kind of forgets that it is very much not normal to die as much as he does. 

What was Killed for Good: Wild and his struggle to be human, the shrine took more from him than his memories and replaced them with something else. He’s just very odd and the people around him notice more than he does. He doesn’t know what’s normal and he feels alienated because of how people react to him. He just wants to vibe in the woods and ride bears. 

Breaking, Broken: You know how all the weapons in BOTW break and it’s super annoying? What if that was a curse and also applied to people? Anyway, Wild is touch starved and desperate not to accidentally hurt his friends. Fortunately, magic has loopholes. 

A Strange Kind of Self Reflection: Wild has identity issues and gets stuck in beast form after catching Twilight’s Shadow crystal. I have the perfect idea for what animal he would be and you guys are not ready.

The Heroes Before: Pre-Calamity Link learns about his predecessors through artifacts and very old records in his attempt to prepare for Ganon’s return. 

Damaged: Literally every Link is a little fucked up and this fic is an exploration about how it manifests. 

Some Kind of Sauce: Wild Genderfluid fic featuring Lullaby/Sheik and sexism. 

Age of Heroes: AOC but with the entire chain, idk, I don’t have much for this one other than wanting to have my own take on the trope. 

Untitled fics ideas:

Modern with magic AU

Pride fic

Gerudo Town fic

Masquerade Ball fic

Soulmate/ Soulmark fic

Cursed Animal fic

Superhero AU

Once Upon a Time AU (mostly in the way that it’s a mixture of a modern au and a fantasy world kind of thing)

Indiana Jones/ the Mummy AU: Zelink but Zelda is an archeologist and Link is an Adventurer/ Explorer type and they need each other but go from reluctant allies to lovers due to plot

BOTW roleswap AU: Prince Link and Champion Zelda, maybe I’ll add some trans vibes but who knows, not me

[robin-the-enby]

Bliss

Pairing: Grell Sutcliff x f!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff

Summary: Grell's love language are gifts. And since you two haven't spent much time together, she takes you on a shopping date.

A/N: This is set in the era when the anime takes place, so the reader is feminine. I also used she/her pronouns when referring to Grell.

* * * * *

Who would've thought that being a reaper would require so much paperwork? The last place one would expect bureaucracy was the afterlife. It almost made her regret how she chose to end her previous life. Almost.

Of course she couldn't bring herself to hate it completely. After all, it wasn't that bad. Just boring. Although that is an enormous understatement in her opinion. She just thinks she could be doing something much more interesting with her time than spending hours filling out papers being scolded by her higher-ups (ehm ehm William ehm ehm) afterwards, only to have to fill them out again.

The second reason was you. At the end of the day, when a very physically and mentally tired William told her to get out of his sight with a heavy sigh and she could finally come back to you in the middle of the night, when you were fast asleep and she could see the open book laying on your slowly rising and falling chest and the still lit candle as you tried once again to stay awake so that you could welcome your girlfriend home, it was all worth it. If she hadn't became a reaper, she would have never met you and at this point, such a life was unimaginable for Grell.

Unfortunately for both of you, you couldn't enjoy your nights together very well, because Grell was needed at work earlier than you had the will to wake up.

The first thing your conscious mind registered was the chirping of birds. Next was the sunlight on your eyelids, like an angry mob banging on a witch's door. You felt like you could lay there for the whole day, just listening to those beautiful sounds and feeling the light on your eyelids shift as the day passed.

You felt the space next to you with your hand, the action automatical and always with the same result. As your hand was met only with cold, ruffled sheets, you opened your eyes.

Sighing with disappointment that your momentary bliss was over, you made your way to your wardrobe to get ready for the day ahead of you.

As you sat in front of the mirror, touching up your face just a bit with makeup, you couldn't help but smile as your sight landed on your girlfriend's part of the cosmetic table. It would never be true bliss without her here, you though as the tip of your pointer finger lightly traced Grell's bright red lipstick.

A series of sharp knocks rippled through the air, interrupting the constant chattering of people and tweeting of birds flowing into the room through the open window. A melodic voice you knew all too well called out to you like a siren "Oh daaaaaaaarling!"

You got up from your chair with such force that you nearly knocked it over. But even if you did, you wouldn't have payed it any mind, for your thoughts were focused only on the person standing in the open door to your shared home. You rushed through the rooms, your heart hammering like a humming bird in your chest, your mind barely able to comprehend that this wasn' a dream. But when you caught a glimpse of your girlfriend's bright red hair and her mischievous green eyes, you couldn't help but grin in glee.

Speeding trhough the hallway to close the distance between you two, you threw yourself at her, nearly toppling Grell over with the force of your attack. Her arms immediately snaked around your waist, bringing you closer to her. Pressing a kiss to your temple, she chuckled in your ear "My my, what a greeting. Wouldn't expect anything less from my love." and laughed some more when she heard a muffled "I missed you." coming from where you burried your face in her clothes. With another peck to your head, Grell let go of you, looking you up and down "I see you're already dressed. Marvelous! Well then, we've got places to be, chop chop!" She clapped her hands and turned you around and lead you where your shoes were.

You couldn't help but stare with a shocked expression on your face "Places to be? Waitwaitwait, slow down honey, tell me what's going on!" you tried to reason with her as you tied your shoelaces.

As soon as you straightened up again, Grell was immediately ushering you out the door with a sweet smile on her face. "It's simple darling, William gave me a few days off and since we haven't spent much time together, I decidedvto take you on a date. There's a lot of places I'd like to take you to and the day is oh so short." the redhead explained, purposefully leaving out the details, such as the way dear William let her take a few days off. You didn't need to know the details after all, it was all boring, some shouting and pleading here, some threats and annoying the superior reaper there. Bureaucracy. Boring and unimportant.

What mattered was the present. Arms linked, you two walked along the streets of London, chatting and giggling. Grell was very fond of showing affection wherever she went, to the point where it was almost inapropriate. But nobody really cared, since most people still saw your girlfriend as a man, despite her untraditional looks. It saddened you a little, that others did not see her for who she really was, but you supposed it was for the better.

Grell insisted that this date was albout about you. After leaving you alone for so long, even if not by her choice, she needs to spoil you. You told her you’re not mad at her, on the contrary actually, just to be sure she knows that and doesn’t feel like she has to do this for you. Your loving girlfriend only rewarded you with a beaming smile and assured you that it’s nothing like that and that you don’t need to worry, before resuming in showering you in compliments and praises, as well as gifts.

Yes, Grell really had the day planned out to a T. First, she took you to a dressmaker, the lovely lady seemingly expecting you already, greeting Grell like an old friend. She explained to you that she was a regular here and that you don’t need to worry about anything, because this lovely lady is one of the best seamstresses in the area. And she wasn’t lying. The seamstress discussed every detail of the dress with you, the fabric, shape and adornments. And while she took your measurements, Grell kept gushing and almost purring about how ravishing you’ll look in your new dress, how you chose a perfect colour that brings out your eyes and will surely make your skin glow and that she won’t be able to keep her hands off you, making you blush a nice red colour which she immediately complimented as well and in turn making the seamstress gush about what a cute couple you are.

Then you two stopped at a bakery to pick up some bread, which she let you pay for after some begging, and after that went to a nice, quiet park with a small pond where you two fed and watched different kinds of ducks and a pair of swans. Both of your hearts melted at the sight of small ducklings following their mothers in a line like toddlers in kindergarten on a walk. You pointed out to each other when a duck did something funny or cute, which happened very often.

Seeing those adorable birds eat made your stomach grumble. Grell looked over at your embarassed face and giggled “You should’ve said you were hungry my dear! I could go for some food myself.” she said thoughtfully, tapping a finger on her chin. And before you could say red, she was already tugging you in the direction of a restaurant that she wanted to check out for quite some time now, but was waiting for the right moment, so she could bring you along as well. The food there was nothing short of delicious.

Lastly she asked you directly if you’d like to go somewhere. You thought for a while, trying to come up with a way to reward her for this amazing day, you got a brilliant idea. “Close your eyes.” you instructed the reaper softly “And don’t open them until I tell you to.” Linking your arm through hers, you began to slowly and carefully guide your curious girlfriend to a flowershop you passed one day on your way from the market. You still had some money on you and figured you’d buy her some flowers, which you were sure would make Grell happy.

“Stay here, don’t move a muscle, I’ll be right back.” you said softly “And don’t open your eyes.” you reprimanded her jokingly. Grell for once did as she was told and stood exactly where you left her, rocking on the balls of her feet, until you stood in front of her again. She could tell, because you were wearing a perfume she gave you for Christmas. “Alright, open your eyes.” you told her.

As soon as that sentence came out of your mouth, Grell’s eyes flew open in anticipation. She was met with your face on which a cheeky smile had bloomed and it was clear you were holding something behind your back. You pulled out a bouquet of red spider lillies and blood red poppies with a soft ‘ta-daa’ escaping your lips. Grell switched her gaze from the gift you got her to your face, her eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun. She looked on the verge of tears, moved by the loving gesture. You took one lilly from the tightly tied up bouquet and put it softly in her hair “Looking beautiful as ever my love.” you cooed softly. Grell’s smile got even wider, if that was possible and before you could stop her, she was already pressing kisses and little pecks all over your face, enjoying your happy squeaks. An elderly couple passed the two of you, without either you or your girlfriend noticing, the man scoffing “Young people don’t know anything about manners these days...” While his wife patted him gently on the arm he had linked with hers and smiled “Oh leave them be Richard. We weren’t any different when we were young.”

Your legs were rather tired after the long day and you both agreed to go home. Even though this day was nearly over, you couldn’t wait for the next morning to come, so that you could have your morning bliss.

* * * * *

I know this isn’t for everyone, but I was in the mood for some sweet sweet fluff

[hexensalbei]

play with fire

find on ao3

This is going to be a fun ride.

The silence in the car is scary because itʼs uncomfortable and that has never been a problem before. Buck shoots a quick glance at his friend. Eddieʼs eyes are fixated on the road, his jaw so clenched, Buck swears, he can hear his teeth gritting. His hands are on the steering wheel but his grip is so tight, his knuckles are white. Yeah, heʼs definitely mad.

The problem is that Buck doesnʼt know why Eddie is so furious.

Fine.

Maybe he knows. But that doesnʼt mean he understands. Heʼs never seen Eddie that angry. He remembers vividly when Eddie snapped at him in the grocery store right after the lawsuit—but itʼs just a pale comparison to his rage now. It doesnʼt make sense—because Buck didnʼt do anything stupid like another lawsuit—he just... He just did his job.

He risked his life to save someone elseʼs but he does it almost on a daily basis; Eddie does the exact same thing and yet, Buck has never snapped at him. So why is it different now?

Because you almost died today says an annoying voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like his sister.

Because you almost died in Eddieʼs fucking arms.

Buck tries to ignore it; he has to ignore it because if he doesnʼt, heʼll drown in guilt and shame. And probably wake up some long forgotten demons.

He canʼt re-live it again and again.

When they stop, he realises, theyʼre in front of Eddieʼs house and heʼs genuinely surprised his friend brought him here.

“This isnʼt my apartment.” He blurts out. He knows itʼs probably the dumbest thing he couldʼve said but he doesnʼt understand why Eddie took him to his home if heʼs pissed off at him. Itʼd be definitely easier to cool off if the source of his anger wasnʼt there, right? 

“Like hell Iʼm letting you stay alone after the shit you did.”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice that makes Buck squirm. He sounds angry, sure, but also hurt, broken. Resigned. He sounds exactly like when Shannon died.

Buck knows that because he was there. He remembers how mad Eddie was at his wife for leaving him and Christopher again, this time for good.

Eventually, Eddie gets out of the car and goes to the house. Buck quietly follows his best friendʼs footsteps and he flinches when Eddie drops off his bag on the floor.

“You can take a shower if you want, Iʼll make up the bed.”

He knows Buck too well; he knows that Buck hates the specific smell of the hospital and always tries to get rid of it as soon as possible. Buckʼs really grateful for that also because he can simply postpone their argument, just for a little bit. Maybe shower will help him cool off because heʼs irritated too but he doesnʼt truly want to fight with Eddie. He goes to the bathroom, takes off his clothes and steps under the shower. He lets the cold water run down his body and he really tries to calm himself; there was enough drama today and yeah, he almost died so he deserves to have a moment of uninterrupted peace. Or so he thinks. Heʼs getting more and more cold and he knows he should get out before Eddie will storm inside and drag him out of the shower. Buck wouldnʼt be even surprised if his friend did something like this.

Then, with a long sigh, he turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He quickly rinses himself with a towel and slips into his most comfortable clothes. Whatʼs a little funny and maybe even ironic, his favorite grey, worn out t-shirt is actually Eddieʼs and it even smells like him.

Crap.

He really needs to finally leave the bathroom and face his friend but heʼs trying to delay the inevitable by thoroughly brushing his teeth. And then, he doesnʼt find anything else he can do so he goes back to the living room. Heʼs quite surprised that he doesnʼt see the pillows or blanket on the couch because he thought heʼs gonna sleep there and heʼs even more surprised he doesnʼt see Eddie there. He finds him in the kitchen instead, leaning against the counter and nursing his favourite beer. Thereʼs a glimpse of hope in Buckʼs chest that maybe Eddie cooled off a little, that maybe he realised he has exaggerated and his anger isnʼt completely justified. Heʼs wrong, though. Eddie is not even slightly less annoyed and it takes Buck one look at his best friend to realise that.

He sighs again because Eddieʼs anger starts to get on his nerves. He moves closer until he stands against Eddie and looks him in the eye.

“Do what you have to do, letʼs get this over with.” He says with a tiredness in his voice. The only thing he wants right now is sleep, he wants to fall asleep and forget about the whole world for a couple of hours. “If you want to yell at me then be my guest and do it. I donʼt even care.”

“Oh, so now youʼre annoyed at me? Really?” Eddie asks wryly and sets aside the bottle with a little too much force, it almost smashes. Neither of them care anyway. Theyʼre now standing against each other, so close they almost hear each otherʼs heartbeat and they fix each other with a glare. 

“Yeah, I am. You act like Iʼve done something wrong, like I wasnʼt supposed to do this and—” 

Heʼs cut off by Eddie who lets out a humourless laugh and answers in a higher voice than usual. 

“God, do you even listen to yourself? You went to that building all by yourself, you disobeyed Bobbyʼs specific orders to not go there because youʼre you and youʼre above all the orders, right? It doesnʼt matter if Bobby did it because he didnʼt want to risk one of us dying there. But you just couldnʼt listen.”

“Funny thatʼs coming out from the man who cut his rope and almost died in the well.” Buck interjects viciously because heʼs truly angered by now.

Something flashes in Eddieʼs eyes but Buck canʼt name it. He doesnʼt even have the time to think about it because his best friend doesnʼt back out.

“Itʼs not relevant now, weʼre talking about today and your stupid, reckless behaviour. What were you thinking? Or-Or maybe donʼt. You probably werenʼt thinking at all. Obviously. And it almost cost you a life! Your life! How can you be so reckless?!” Eddie shouts and the pain in his voice is very noticeable but Buck pretends to ignore it.

“Iʼm a firefighter. Itʼs kinda in a job description, donʼt you think? Sometimes I have to be a little reckless. Besides, I did save a life and I didnʼt die either, right? Otherwise I wouldnʼt be standing there and listen to you being all pissed.” Buck shrugs like itʼs nothing, like he really doesnʼt care about his life. Itʼs probably another thing he shouldnʼt have said because Eddie straightens up and now, thereʼs almost no space between. For the second Buck thinks Eddie will lash out and just hit him. He kinda wishes he did. But Eddie only sighs heavily and rakes through his hair with frustration. 

“God, youʼre driving me crazy, Buckley. Youʼre so dumb and stubborn and you donʼt even stop for a second to think about the consequences of your actions. You donʼt even care what would happen if you actually died, do you?”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice, something hard to catch and name that stops Buck from responding immediately. His words are ringing in his ears because they are annoyingly true. He didnʼt think about the consequences of his eventual death. He literally just stormed inside the building to find a man despite Bobbyʼs direct order to not go there because it was already too dangerous. He did it anyway, he managed to save a life but he didnʼt manage to get out in time and the whole building just collapsed. He doesnʼt remember much but he certainly remembers being held out by Eddie and his donʼt you dare die here, you dumbass. 

It mustʼve been scary, he admits, and he thinks he understands how Eddie mustʼve felt because he also saw his best friend almost dying. But the anger? He still doesnʼt get it.

“Iʼve had a few close calls during the years. Why is it so different now?” He finally asks.

“Because Iʼm in love with you, you asshole!” Eddie cries out. “And you just keep dying on me and I canʼt take it anymore!”

Buckʼs brain short-circuits. He mustʼve died after all, right? There is no real possibility Eddie just told heʼs in love with him. Thereʼs no possibility he may actually reciprocate his feelings. Thereʼs no way itʼs not just his hallucination or some kind of weird dream in his afterlife. But he desperately wants to be the truth, desperately needs validation for his thoughts. So he does the first thing that comes to his mind: he grabs Eddie by the collar of his Henley and crashes their lips together. His friend is definitely surprised, even shocked and for a moment, he does nothing. Buck already starts to panic because he thinks it’s real and he might’ve misheard everything or even projected it and just destroyed their friendship. But then, Eddie suddenly changes position and pushes Buck until he leans against the counter. And when he kisses him, all thoughts and doubts are completely gone from Buckʼs mind. The only things that matter are Eddieʼs lips on his, Eddieʼs hands on his body, Eddie utterly focused on him and that desperate need to fulfil their desire. Buck mightʼve kissed a lot of people in his life; he has had both awkward and amazing kisses but they cannot compete to make out with his best friend. It feels entirely different, maybe because Eddie loves him back. They break apart only for a couple of seconds to take a breath; Buck sits on the counter and brings Eddie closer by the belt. He canʼt take his eyes off him; Eddie looks wonderful with already swollen lips, flushed cheeks and a spark in his eyes. He probably looks no better but he doesnʼt even care.

“I know youʼve probably already noticed but I love you too, asshole.” He says in a teasing voice, inches away from Eddieʼs lips.

“Well, I mightʼve suspected it when you kissed me but itʼs nice to actually hear it. But donʼt even think that you say you love me, bat your eyelashes and kiss me this way and I wonʼt be angry at you.” Eddie warns half-seriously.

“I can try.” Buck just smirks and kisses him again. This time, he also quickly unbuckles the belt Eddieʼs wearing and starts to lift his shirt. His friend doesnʼt even protest, he lets him do whatever he wants and thatʼs why his Henley ends up somewhere on the floor. Then, the blonde moves from his lips to his neck and slowly makes his way down, planting kisses on his chest. Itʼs crazy how quickly their anger turned into lust. Now, the tension between them is much better, more exciting, easy to resolve. 

Eddie lets out a loud moan when Buck—this sneaky bastard—grabs his ass and squeezes it.

“Youʼre a menace.” He hisses.

“Oh, you should wait with the sweet talk after Iʼm done with you, Diaz.” Buck grins and he doesnʼt stop with the teasing. He unzips Eddieʼs jeans painfully slowly and Eddie almost whines to hurry up. The younger man notices it and winks at him before he adds. “Although Iʼm not sure if youʼll be able to talk at all.” 

“So maybe quit talking, Evan, and show me your skills?” 

“As you wish, Edmundo.”