#i think that's when this gets out of the queue

[artsymeeshee]

(Ｔ▽Ｔ)

(As always DON’T tag as ship :T)

[bratbarzal]

Oh I would kill to see luke and his lover travelling europe idk :’)

I sort of have a ~vacation thing in the pipeline for them so I'm gonna bullet point some random thoughts on this while they're fresh in my brain bc I love the idea of them having a little european trip together and doing it the authentic way bc they're just two kids in love and exploring the world!! not super in depth bc like I said there's something else in the works but I am really enjoying doing these extended thoughts!!

luke is the ultimate airport boyfriend no one can change my mind!! like standing in the check in queue with his arm slung over your shoulders or you're in front of him and his chin is resting on your head as he watches the boards to figure out where your gate is!! and he's hauling both of your cases around even though you say you're fine to wheel them, but you like watching as he lifts them onto the belt, and you like eyeing up the way his sleeves cling to his muscles when he's leaning on the desk and going through all the information with the guy behind it!!

and obviously his first thought when you're through security is food, so you're walking hand in hand and he's pretending like he's giving you the choice but he's lowkey dragging you to wherever he wants to go, and you both end up getting burgers and he steals your fries when he's done with his, but you're used to his crappy distraction techniques by now so you just let him do it!! and the two of you have a whole thing where you're swapping parts of your burgers like he'll take your pickles and you'll take his tomato and you just do it without asking because you guys eat so often together that it's just normal!!

and he'll smell all the perfume testers with you in the duty free store!! and try on a bunch of sunglasses and you're taking a bunch of pictures of him in shades that make him look like a bug or an alien hahaha!! but he buys some unisex fragrance you can share and it's that thing where it's the only thing the two of you will spray while you're away so that it will always remind you of that vacation!! and it ends up being a cute tradition every time you leave the country!!

the only thing you'd let him splurge on for the whole trip is the extra leg room seats, and he just about convinces you that premium economy is the way to go, so he gets to stretch out his legs and you get to cuddle into his side with the arm rest raised and you share a set of earphones to watch some random movie on the flight together 🥺 like you don't even bother syncing screens you'll just lay your head on his shoulder and snuggle his bicep and probably fall asleep on him while he's watching conclave or smth

and the two of you aren't exactly hostel hopping but you really wanted a lowkey trip so the hotels you stay in are all super cosy and small, because you're spending most of your time out and exploring anyway, so when you're in your room you're constantly all up in each other's space, and he's always bumping into you and grabbing at you to move you out of the way, and it's all just super intimate and precious to you that you get to be a normal young couple doing normal things away from like him being recognised all the time back home, or not being entirely secure in such a random hotel - when you're away, it's a bit like the bubble you get at the lake house, where he's just Luke, your boyfriend, not Luke Hughes.

and he's been to Europe on tournaments before but he's never been able to properly explore, so you do all this touristy coupley stuff together!! and Luke very much gives goofball energy like if he was in a relationship I don't think he'd be all mr cool I think he'd embrace getting to do dorky shit so like he's eating food from street vendors with absolutely no etiquette, and he's making wishes throwing coins in fountains and taking pictures "resting on" the leaning tower of pisa or pinching at the Eiffel Tower - speaking of have you ever seen those videos of dua lipa and Callum turner dancing near the Eiffel Tower???? they give me Luke and lih!reader vibes all the time they're so cute!!

and Luke is the perfect victim of a tourist trap so he's getting his portrait done by those whacky artists who draw your mouth about half the size of your face and they make his curls all crazy and his neck super long lmao!! and he's getting suckered into buying you flowers all the time off of the ladies who say it's romantic - and yeah, even if the roses aren't real, it is romantic because he gets all blushy and bashful about it!! and he says you have to collect fridge magnets for everywhere you go as a memento because you're not bulking up your luggage but it's cute to have something back home that reminds you of being away together!! and he's super serious about his fridge magnet criteria so you let him have the last say even if they're going on your fridge.

also he's clinging onto you for dear life everywhere you go. your hand doesn't leave his in public, and he's cuddling you in the back of taxis, and standing behind you with his arms draped over you in museums, you're tangling legs under the tables in restaurants, and falling asleep on his shoulder on trains!! bc physical touch Luke is the realest thing to me!!

and one more thing bc I love this concept is he's obviously way quicker at getting ready than you so he'll always sit by you while you're getting ready and just watch and talk to you like you curling your hair is the most interesting thing in the world!! and he's weirdly intimidated by a curling iron but one time he offers to do it for you and he doesn't burn you by some miracle so he's always doing the back of your head while he yaps lmao!! he's always zipping the back of your dresses, and untying your shoes when you finally get back to the hotel room!! and he's watching you put on moisturiser before bed and he always likes when you spread the excess onto his skin 😭😭 he's such a little obsessed lover boy I adore him!!

[solarstranger]

CHAPTER 1 | I HOPE YOU SEE (RIGHT THROUGH ME)

w.c. 1.2k

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (23), some cussing (it's not bakugou's internal monologue if there aren't any), suicide-related deaths (see series synopsis for more details), discussions of suicide, canon-typical descriptions of violence

a/n. welcome to another series by yours truly!!!! i know i still have that body swap one in the queue, and while i am planning on working on that, this series' premise just spoke to me and i was emboldened to write it as soon as i could. i'm writing this as i go, though, so the posting schedule is likely gonna be erratic, but i promise i'll try to write this consistently. anyway, i'd absolutely love to hear what you think throughout the process, so please don't be a stranger and talk to me!

links. masterlist, ao3

Somehow, he’s wound up in the emergency room of Musutafu’s highly renowned Central Hospital.

Which, if he had the energy left to really think about it, is not particularly an unusual occurrence. He’s been here—and other similar hospitals—enough to have a general blueprint of the corridors etched in his mind, as well as the basic rules they shared and protocols that were strictly followed. Stuff like how phone calls are prohibited, fatigued doctors specializing in emergency medicine are perpetually present, and how—for a place supposedly and rightfully dubbed with the ‘emergency’ title—the staff sure don’t seem to have a whole lot of sense of urgency.

Although he supposes he’d rather have that than be in a room teeming with frantic energy. Maybe they’re doing it on purpose, actually, for the sake of the patients who get rolled in.

Except right now, he was not a patient.

He was technically not a guardian, either, though the disheveled-looking middle-aged man blatantly staring at him from a few rows up front is most definitely thinking otherwise.

Well, then.

Acutely aware of the unwanted attention, Bakugou shifts uncomfortably in his seat, wincing ever so slightly when the connected metal chairs to his right creak loudly with the motion. It doesn’t help that he’s still in his hero clothes—although he’s aware there’s no point in mulling over it now; after all, he didn’t exactly have the time to do a costume change with all the shit that went down.

Not that he’s exactly sure what that ‘shit’ even was.

It all happened too fast.

One minute, he was walking down his regular patrol route down Shizuoka’s famous tallest bridge—cursing the unbearable summer heat and the dehydration-induced headaches that it brought with it; the next, he was jumping off of it.

He even boosted himself with his quirk to aid gravity in his free fall, but to no avail.

Your body had already collided with the ground by the time he could grab your wrist.

The moments that passed after that are even more of a blur now. He doesn’t know how he did it, but after what seemed like an eternity of merely staring at your limp, bloody body, Bakugou was able to pull out his phone and call 119. The medics arrived shortly after, maybe in a span of five minutes, but to him it felt like more.

It took everything within him not to just haul your body and propel you to the nearest hospital.

Because if someone died under his watch…

“Mr. Dynamight?”

Bakugou startles, looking up from where he was blankly staring at his intertwined, scarred hands. At the sight of a white coat-clad woman, the pro-hero immediately stands up, nodding, turning to face the brunette with his full attention.

“Hi,” the doctor greets, “It’s come to my understanding that you’re the one who called in regarding Patient—” she trails off, looking down at her clipboard to double-check, before saying your name in a question. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” Bakugou rasps roughly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Uh, yes, doc.”

The doctor nods. “Were you on patrol when you found her?”

Close, the voice in Bakugou’s head retorts without missing a beat. I saw her fucking jump.

Instead of saying all that out loud, however, the ash-blonde only nods wordlessly.

The woman hums. “Okay, then. Well, her parents are still on the way here, and normally we’d let them know first, but given the nature of your involvement and your occupation, I might as well inform you.”

Instantly, Bakugou finds himself bracing for what’s next.

The doctor presses her lips in a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, shaking her head solemnly. “She didn’t make it.”

Dead on arrival.

You were dead on arrival.

At least, that’s what the doctors told him when he pressed them for more. He couldn’t tell if they were hesitant about divulging further information about you aside from the basics or just simply in the dark themselves, seeing as how they only had your wallet that they found on your person to go from. Either way, Bakugou decided it didn’t matter as soon as an older couple burst through the doors of the emergency room—a good half hour later—whom he immediately identified as your parents.

Needless to say, he hightailed it out of there.

The last thing he needed was to be the unfortunate bearer of bad news, or worse, be recognized as the reason why their daughter is currently lying lifeless in one of the hospital’s private rooms.

After that, he couldn’t remember much of his actions, only that he somehow decided to head to the agency. The entire flight down to his office, he stuck his good ear out for any signs of ringing from his phone, which surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—didn’t come.

Which makes sense.

He’s heard stories before. Exchanged in hushed whispers back in the UA dormitory, and uttered in low voices in the agencies he worked at as a sidekick. About how suicide cases in the country are criminally underreported—not just because of the stigma surrounding the act, but because the police allegedly make it a point to conceal such cases, away from the media’s prying eyes and before it gets blown out of proportion by the public.

Hakamada told him it was most likely to prevent the occurrence of suicide clusters, to which Bakugou scoffed instinctively, granting him a reprimanding look from his mentor.

But really, could anyone blame him?

The idea seemed stupid then.

If he killed himself for whatever reason, he sure didn’t want his death to be treated as some sort of curse, talked about only when people think no one’s watching.

There’s nothing more pitiful than fading away without leaving a single trace, after all.

But now, as he sits in the quiet dark of his agency’s office—the building silent if not for the gentle whirring of his air conditioner—Bakugou finds himself oddly grateful.

Because…

Because.

He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to face the press about what just happened.

He’s not sure how long he sat spaced out in his office, but by the time he’s inserting his lone copy of his key into the door knob, it’s already two hours past midnight, and the exhaustion from the day’s events has finally made itself known in the form of muscle aches and a throbbing migraine.

Bakugou doesn’t try to fight the sigh of relief that wracks his body the second he hears the lock click, his movements automatic as he pushes the door open with his side, left hand reaching out in the dark until it lands on and presses against the switch.

As if on cue, light floods the living room slash kitchen of Bakugou’s apartment unit, a sight so mundanely familiar that he doesn’t even blink at first.

Just—drags his aching feet towards the foyer where he toes off his sneakers and drops his duffel bag, which he swears he’ll collect the first thing tomorrow morning.

But then that’s when it happens.

Bakugou barely catches it—the movement at the corner of his eye—but he does.

And when he does—glance to look at it—he blanches.

Because sitting on his sofa is no other than a ghost.

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ

[bunnyluvx]

gaming w/ lads lis! ♡

featuring: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb x gn!reader.

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

requested by @napforalifetime | dc: @cafekitsune | wc: 1.6k | ao3

tags: fluff | established relationship | physical affection | luke and kieran mention | doxxing

a/n: I HAVE FINALLY WRITTEN CALEB AFTER ALMOST 3 MONTHS OF POSTING LADS CONTENT. i'm excited to write more for him in the future, i can tell he's gonna be really fun. also for the most part, my ideas for these scenarios surround shooter games like valorant, overwatch, marvel rivals etc, so that's what i'm going to be basing your experiences with all of the lis off of.

date started: 4:15PM, june 25th, 2025.

date finished: 5:41PM, june 28th, 2025.

xavier ♡

i think that the only way that xavier would regularly game is if he's asked to play. i don't see him turning down co-workers or friends whenever they ask him to game, and he certainly won't say no if you ask.

i imagine that he has a switch where he has some cozy games or some story-based games that he's really into. i can also see him having a console or a pc setup for when his friends/co-workers want to play, but other than that, i don't think he games much.

xavier is relatively quiet to my understanding, so i think that would continue to apply when you play video games. he pings enemies, and seemingly teleports to your side just how he does irl when you start screaming for help, but his focus is mainly on everyone around him. he catches on pretty quickly, and does really well after getting used to the controls and learning about the characters.

he also LOCKS IN when you play. sometimes, you can hear his controller's clicking sounds from just how hard he gets into it. he doesn't even notice how focused he becomes, so when you bring it up, he's surprised by himself.

xavier is a dps main. i will not explain myself

who carries depends, i think. if you guys play consistently, i think you take turns carrying. if not, you take the lead.

xavier doesn't often look at stats, but when he does and sees that you're doing well, he always makes a point to praise you. you felt accomplished before, but your boyfriend's approval seals it in for you.

xavier doesn't really look at chat either, but he is so quick to come to your defense if he sees that someone is being mean to you. their account is reported and banned not long after.

i don't see xavier doing friendly fire. mainly, i think he'd just kind of..let you do whatever. push or blast him off of the map, shoot and kill him, etc. if there's an option, and you want to have a little fight, he'll play along. he always wins and you threaten to ban him from cuddle time /j.

once he starts collecting emotes, he uses the sitting ones OFTEN between gameplay. before a match starts or between queue, you find him sitting somewhere.

LOVES playing hide and seek in custom games. mainly when you're the seeker because your taunts and giggling warm his heart.

CAN xavier get competitive? yes. DOES he? no. he doesn't care enough. he just wants to have fun and spend time with you, so winning or losing doesn't matter to him.

knows some gamer lingo, so he mostly understands you when you use it. if something is unfamiliar to him, he asks then learns something new!

zayne ♡

similar to xavier, zayne doesn't game unless you ask him to. he might have played some when he was younger out of social obligation, but not much past that. i think that he prefers card or board games.

i think that zayne is pretty decent when it comes to shooter games. he isn't the best on the team, but he's not the worst either.

the idea of you solving puzzles together in a horror/mystery game is a really interesting thought to me. that's something i think he'd be really into. he also likes games where you have to work together towards a common goal. this cutie patootie LOVES games that exercise the brain.

idk why this came to my head but he likes crossword puzzles too. if he can't think of a word, he likes to ask for your help. he loves to do them with you, too.

BACK TO VIDEO GAME TALK, zayne is a support main. he likes to feel like he's contributing and he feels really useful when he heals people :)

gets SO soft when someone thanks him for healing them. it doesn't really show but the appreciation makes him happy

stops healing teammates when they're mean to you. won't revive them or nothin. reports any bullies or game sabotage after the match is over

i think that zayne would be down for friendly fire every once in awhile. you take turns chasing each other around, and zayne is really quick so you lose him kind of easily. your giggling while you run lights up his night.

you carry for the most part. when zayne really focuses, your stats match up, but he doesn't really play enough to perform well consistently.

zayne will glance towards chat in case, and rarely ever looks at stats. i think that he likes to watch the crazy stuff people will say sometimes

isn't familiar with gamer lingo. you have to teach him almost all of it, and he appreciates the effort.

also uses sit emotes often when you're not queued up. he likes when you send him pictures of you sitting together, he thinks it's really cute

always watches out for you when you play together. pockets you sometimes when there isn't much else for him to do

i think that he can be a little competitive. he doesn't care enough to get really upset by it, but he does get peeved

gets frustrated when people spawn-camp. annoyed when people t-bag.

rafayel ♡

i don't see rafayel liking shooter games all that much. i think that he would enjoy games like minecraft more, where his creative liberty can run wild.

minecraft is now rafayel's favorite video game because i said so

makes the most gorgeous houses and structures

likes the sims too

really good with room decorating

you make yourselves as sims and have a family together

he likes games that give him various customization. he likes making things pretty

if you ask him to play a shooter game with you, he'll say yes. any time with you is time well-spent

when you do play shooter games, rafayel mains support. he gets easily annoyed when playing dps and he has little to no interest in playing tank

doesn't know gamer lingo. you use it for the first time, and he makes a joke about it. you explain to him what it meant and do so from that point forward. he incorporates it into his own language when you play now and you feel so proud watching him grow as a silly little gamer

so down for friendly fire. likes smacking you for fun. you have 1v1s and keep track of your wins. sometimes you 1v1 in games to settle arguments or disagreements and you both think it's hilarious

rafayel gets really competitive. when someone targets you or him, his mission from that point forward is to kill that person and WIN.

very defensive of you. hears someone talking badly about you in game vc and GOES OFF.

gets easily side-tracked so you have to remind him of your objective sometimes

sylus ♡

i think that he would game on his own. very rarely does he, but he enjoys his time when it happens. it gives him something to do with his time and attention. open to playing with you almost any time

sylus likes games with lots of lore. he appreciates how much effort goes into video games. he also likes decision-based games because every action that one has having consequences is something that intrigues him

puzzle games too. give this man a door he can't open and he is on the hunt for the key

tank main. he's very strategic in the ways he makes space for his team, and it satisfies him

i think that he's flexible with what roles he plays though. he does whatever is most convenient for himself and his team to try to get to a win

very down for friendly fire. likes to tease you and other people. he thinks it's funny when people get mad at him for shooting them

knows some gamer lingo because of luke and kieran, but rarely uses it. watching you use it makes him smile because he knows that means you're enjoying yourself. he also kinda pokes fun at you because some lingo is really silly

sylus is a pretty good player. he doesn't play enough to be good consistently but when he gets back into the groove after playing for awhile, you don't often lose

sylus ABSOLUTELY gets competitive. he doesn't really verbalize it, but he wants to win. i can 100% hear him saying, "is that all you can do?" and "that was too easy."

if people are mean to you because you're not good at the game, he makes sure that they can't play on their device of choice anymore. but you don't know that

caleb ♡

HE'S A GAMER BOY. THEY SAID SEE U LATER BOY /lyr

in all seriousness, caleb games often when he's not busy. you've been playing together since you were young and you both LOVE ITTT

likes horror games. phasmophobia came to mind, i think he'd like it

dps/tank main. likes killing things

he uses gamer lingo regularly when you play together and sometimes even teaches you some!

open to friendly fire. he will kill u over and over and over and over again just to annoy u

pretty good at games!!! when he does well at the end of a match he brags about just how awesome he is. you think he's awesome too but you tell him he sucks for the funnys

gets very competitive. dives head first into matches and you have to swim through what feels like seas of enemies just to find him

teaches u how to play new characters. very good teacher and always gives u the best advice to improve

will doxx someone if they're mean to you /hj

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai. any and all support is appreciated! <3

[writingsinashes]

I honestly have no idea what it is that I've done to someone here, but it's very clear someone has a problem with me and doesn't seem to understand that this isn't fucking high school.

I'm done playing this game with you.

The difference between you and me is that I'm about 99% positive I know who keeps falsely reporting me, sending me all this hate, looking for me and for no reason that is fucking logical, thinks that they're winning- the difference is I'm not going to let you win by calling you out.

There's no chance in hell that this happened literally about a week after I tried to reach out and support this person when they needed it.

I have so many things I want to say, but I'm not a petty person, and I think someone just wants attention. It's not coming from me anymore. I'm done.

I'm going to post this and have it queued to be reposted for a while because there are so many people here that I genuinely care about, with whom I sincerely want to continue writing.

People who understand that I'm doing what I can to just breathe at the moment, there are people here that I know care about the fact that I'm trying in every way possible to not be in this much pain, and understand that life happens.

I don't regret a single thing, because over the past ten years, I've met many amazing people who have been there with me through some of the most difficult times.

I wouldn't have ended up living with my best friend if it weren't for this hobby and website. I wouldn't be where I am today without these people, and if you're reading this, you know who you are.

I won't tag a single person because I don't want anyone to be targeted by the person who's very clearly dedicated to making sure that I have no voice.

I have a fucking voice.

You're not going to hurt any of the people I care for and am friends with, whom I've met through this hobby.

I started writing this post with the intention of giving up and walking away but this far into this update and notification I've come to realize that if I give up writing what I love then I'm the one hurting myself and I don't do that shit anymore.

So no, I'm not giving up RPing. I'm simply moving and interacting with people who are genuine, understanding, and caring- people I know are my friends here.

I can't see messages here on Tumblr, but I can see that I keep getting DMs. If you're trying to reach me or want to reach me, please send me a message on Discord.

I sincerely hope that I matter to the people that matter to me.

As I mentioned, I'm moving and making some changes, but I'll continue writing and role-playing.

The only thing I'm going to do differently is do it privately, following the people who like this post as well as the people that I'll follow on the new blog.

I've had muses on Tumblr for over a decade. They're not going away, and neither am I. So to recap, this blog is going to be posting this Sah update on a queue.

You can reach out to me on Discord (JustCallMeSah).

I'm moving, and if you'd like to write with me or even just stay in touch and be a part of the worlds we have/can make, please like this post so I can follow you on my new account.

I'll be following from that blog once it's set up, so even if we haven't interacted yet, don't let this stop you from liking this post, so we can, if that makes sense?

I don't know how to end this long ass post other than by saying that I very, very, very much hope to hear from you guys and that I'm on Discord- message me there for the link and I'm going to follow everyone as soon as I'm established.

I also hope that whoever is responsible for this receives help with their issues. I know that things in life aren't going as planned, and despite the hatred that person may harbor towards me, I wish you the best because no one deserves to carry that much anger without some help.

But don't let this whole PSA (basically) make you believe that I'm giving up and letting you win at whatever it is you're trying to accomplish, because that's not what's happening or what's going to happen.

So, yeah. See you guys on the flipside, hopefully.

Love, Sah.

[szilverer]

forbidden matching viric set for a nightmarish shady duo

i made a simple parabolan fit design for Reisz with their in-game items :D inspired by the neathyfashioncoalition prompt but uhh i went so ham with the original piece it mightve ended up too eyestrain-y to submit :[ still figuring out what to do with it but for now have these. adjacent doodles

anyway anyhow. smol loredrop below :]

after LF one of the first things reisz did aside from going insane was getting this quality:

the whole deal with the sun was A Misunderstanding and they did Not want to stay on bad terms with the native inhabitants of Parabola, so they really put work in building a reputation among the general snek populace. Reisz also generally sympathizes with the Fingerkings because well. they just want to Exist. they find that admirable, yknow? in the end it's not that different from their own motivation of Feeling Alive

(the Boil still won't see them, but never bothered them again either, so they tentatively assume things are ? at a truce of sorts. i have some loose ideas abt the boil & eddie to explain why they seem to leave the pc alone in-universe but theyre still all over the place tbh)

so yeah Reisz arranged 364758 vessels for the sneks and irresponsibly set a bunch of them loose in the Is. they are greeted by hisses of approbation everywhere & often have little schools of possessed fish following them around in Parabola. at some point there was a whole queue for guided trips to London

they hiss a little, some days more than not, but well, when you speak whispering/trying not to move your mouth the sibilant sounds can become quite marked. they don't think this is because of their Connections.

the split tongue definitely is though but its cool so they dont mind it

i must note, bc this is rly funny, we (me and rei) did not know fingerkings possessed people by the time we maxed Connected bc we hadnt gotten to that part of the Labyrinth/Dangerous MYN yet. LOL

as you can see i drew them separately and couldnt resist quickly applepenning the doodles bc. theyre a fuckign set apparently ??? (side-eyeing the blorbos merging in my head) disgustang... i know no peace...

I feel like moonmilked eddie would happily scramble to match his spousey (reiddie voice: why wont u wear your smiling mask my love... breaking my heart every single day......) but mine wouldn't currently. Darling That Is Not My Colour And It Is Not Yours Either. maybe in the uncertain future......

[every1swifey]

──★ ˙ REQUEST !! ࣪ 「 SBG MAIN SIX X MOM FRIEND!READER」

GERNE: Drabble, request

WARNINGS: English is not my first language (don't underestimate my writing though!)

SETTING: /

LIKELY UNKNOWN VOCABULARY: /

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

a13xandri4 asked:

I'm back for seconds 🙏

I loved what you did with my last request so much so I was gonna fire off another one and see if you'd be willing to do it!

So, I was thinking of the Main Six x a Reader (implied to be female, but doesn't have to be) who is very much a mom friend? Like- just has absolutely everything at any time in their backpack- Glasses cleaner for Logan? Reader has it. Snacks and drink mix-ins? Reader's got it. a spare Rubik's cube for Aiden? Reader's already scrambling it for him to solve. Extra chargers, gum, cash, hair ties, cologne, perfume, dry shampoo, a pair of folding scissors-

This proves to be overwhelmingly useful for honestly the entirety of the main six whether it's at outings, the phantom dimension, get togethers, etc.

You get the gist lol! However you'd like to format it is up to you! Don't rush to this if you have other requests in the queue! I just thought I'd get this idea out before it completely slipped my head!

Make sure to drink lots of water, take tons of breaks, and eats lots of yummy food after or during your writing!! Have a good day/night!

XOXO, Sashaa<33

I LOVE THE IDEA WHAT. Also thank you for the sweet message <33 I'll give my best to deliver ;) Hope you like it and have great night/day too!!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

AIDEN CLARK:

It's been a minute of silence since you two kind of ran out of conversations so you two decide to just lay down on the floor.

It’s been a while since either of you said anything. The silence isn't awkward, just… quiet. Eventually, you both give up trying to talk and lay out on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

" Aw man. " He groans as he brings a hand up to his face to rubs his eyes.

" What's wrong? " You turn towards him.

" I forgot to the off my contacts last night and they've been itching all day. " He whines as he leans closer to you still rubbing his eyes.

" Why don't you put in some eye drops? " You ask him.

" I ran out like a week ago. "

You sit up, already reaching into your bag," I got some, if you want. "

" Really? Yes please! "

You pull out a tiny case and pass it to him. He opens it, fumbles with the cap, squeezes couple of drops into his dry eyes, then blinks rapidly.

" Thanks, you're a lifesaver. I didn't know you use eye drops too. " He hands them back.

" I don't, not regularly at least. I actually just bought them for you. " You put them back in the tiny bag from before zipping it close.

He pauses, mid blinking, " Wait- for me? "

You shrug, smiling, " Well… for everyone. But mostly you. "

He stares at you, trying to understand why you'd buy them just for him. Eventually he smiles back, slow and surprised, his ears turning red.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

BEN CLARK

Fuck. That's all Ben thinks when he notices his earphones aren't in his bag. He must've forgot them home... Oh well, nothing he can do know can he? Nope, but you can ;). You walk over to him, one earphone in, after noticing his distressed expression.

" Are you okay? " You ask quietly.

He types into his phone, [" I forgot my earphones at home "]

" I see... You can have mine. " You take the remaining head out of your ear and hand them to him.

He hesitates, eyes flicking between the earbud and your face.

" I don’t mind, " you say, guessing his thoughts, " really. "

[" Are you sure? "] You nod smiling reassuring.

He takes them, no, he takes one of the earbuds and again types into his phone.

He finally takes it, not both, just one and then types again, a little slower this time, [" Let’s share? "]

You nod again, slipping the other bud into your ear.

" Here, " you say, holding out your phone. " You pick the song. I bet your taste is way better than mine anyway. "

He smiles, already scrolling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

LOGAN FIELDS

Logan was desperately trying to clean his glasses with his sweater, since he ran out of those special cleaning tissues.

" Here. " You slide one of those packets over the table to him.

" Hm? " He looks up, scrunching his face trying to identify the object.

" For your glasses. " You open the packet handing the wet tissue to him.

" Oh. Thank you. " He blinks wiping his glasses, now with the tissue you gave him.

" How come you have these? " He asks putting on his glasses again.

" Last week, when you got your glasses done, I asked for some for you. " You shrug and he hums.

" Thank you, that's very considering of you. " He smiles shyly, blushing slightly.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

TYLER HERNANDES

Tyler grumbles as he tries rub off the sweat of his palms, he got from the baseball training earlier.

You notice this and you pull out a damp wipe and gently reach for his hand.

" What are you...? " His brows furrow in confusion.

You don't say anything and just wipe his hand gently, after you are done you reach out for the other one, also wiping it.

" There you go. " You smile satisfied.

He clears his throat, glancing away. " …Thanks, I guess. "

" Anytime. "

" You're so weird. " He blurts making you laugh.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

TAYLOR HERNANDES

" Uh [Name] do you have a spare hair tie? "

" Yeah of course, there, pick one. " you say, pulling out a small bag from your backpack.

" Great thanks! " She grabs one, quickly tying her hair into a ponytail. As she does, she glances over at you.

" You know, you're really practical. Like you always have everything anyone needs. Bandages, snacks, hair ties... I could go on and on! " She tells you.

" Well, I just like being prepared for everything. Never know when you’ll need a granola bar or a random band-aid. " You shrug chuckling.

She laughs, but her eyes linger on you for a moment. " I swear, you're like a walking first-aid kit and convenience store at the same time. I bet you’ve got like, emergency supplies for just about anything. "

" You’d be surprised. " You reply with a sly grin.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

ASHLYN BANNER

" Wow, it's so hot! " You huff, wiping your forehead.

" Hot, indeed, " Ashlyn mutters, retreating into the shade, her pale skin already starting to turn pink. " I feel like I’m gonna fry out here. "

You pull out a bottle of sunscreen, shaking it. " I think it’s best if you cream yourself in. "

She takes it, applying some to her arms and face. " Thanks. "

" Want me to help with your back? Only if you want, of course. " You offer.

They hesitate before turning around. " Uh, yeah, sure. " They pull their hair up, exposing their back.

You rub the sunscreen in, " There, all done! "

You wipe your hands, not noticing Ashlyn is already getting red, just not from the sun.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

I kind of like how this one turned out, I'm really proud of myself :)) Hope you guys like it as much as I do!

@a13xandri4 BREAKFAST/LUNCH/DINNER IS READY!!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

When the Levee Breaks | Lucifer Rising | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: just so much angst, all of it, mentions of torture, potentially triggering for those with religious trauma, ADDICTION DISCUSSED HEAVILY, relapse, withdrawal, etc

Word Count: 6307

A/N: Y'all!!!!! The end of season 4!!!!

Thank you so so so so so so so sososoososos much for stickin’ by me thus far. I am so very blessed and thankful to be writing for such a supportive audience.

I do just want to make y’all aware that I will be waiting until I have completely finished writing season five to upload the first episode of the season. I do apologize! That’ll probably take me a few months to finish. However, I do want to prioritize writing my queue of requests and also make sure that this last season is as amazing as possible. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for all of the support. 

<3, m

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You didn’t have much time to think on Castiel’s foreboding message to you because Sam was practically vibrating with anxiety. “Alright, let's hear it,” he practically pleaded.

“What?” Dean responded.

“Drop the bomb, man.” Sam was clearly still ignoring you, and you were temporarily okay with that. “You saw what I did. C’mon, stop the car, take a swing.”

The older brother shook his head. “I'm not gonna take a swing.”

“Then scream, chew me out.”

“I'm not mad, Sam.”

The man scoffed. “C’mon. You're not mad?”

Dean pursed his lips. “Nope.”

After making sure your phone was on silent, you rang Bobby’s phone for three rings exactly, and then, hung up before he could answer.

“Right. Look, at least let me explain myself—”

“Don't. I don't care.”

“You don't care?” Sam replied. He sounded almost hurt.

“What do you want me to say, that I'm disappointed?” Dean sighed. “Yeah, I am. But, mostly, I'm just tired, man. I'm done. I am just done.”

Just then, Sam’s phone rang. “Hey, Bobby.” You could see his expression turn to panic in the passenger’s side mirror, and you did your best to look discreetly.

“What's going on?” Sam asked. 

Dean feigned surprise as Sam hung up the phone. “What'd he say?”

****

“Well, thanks for shaking a tail,” Bobby told you as you rushed into the hallway toward his panic room.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you got it.”

Sam opened the door.

Smoothly, Bobby told him, “Go on inside. I wanna show you something.”

The younger brother walked into the panic room while you, Dean, and Bobby stayed in the doorway.

Sam looked at Bobby expectantly. “Alright. So, uh, what's the big demon problem?”

“You are. This is for your own good,” Bobby said evenly, and you and Dean helped to quickly shut the door. 

“Guys? Hey, hey. What?” Sam walked toward the barred window in a panic. “This isn't funny. Guys! Hey! Guys?” he continued shouting even as you walked away. Once Bobby latched the window, his cries were muffled and easier to stomach. 

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean told him quietly when you were farther away from the door Sam was repeatedly banging on.

“Don’t mention it,” the man replied. “And I’d be thankin’ her.” He nodded toward you. 

Dean slipped his fingers in yours and brought them up to his lips to kiss gingerly. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I said those things to him back when we picked up Jimmy,” you told him. “I do plan on apologizing to him when he’s… y’know, better.”

Dean nodded. “You don’t have to apologize. I mean, you coulda said it differently, but you were right.”

Bobby sighed. “Alright. You kids better get some sleep. I got the upstairs bedroom ready for ya.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” you smiled weakly. 

When you’d finally finished showering and were busy brushing your hair, you met your eyes in the mirror for the first time in days. Your damp hair looked messy to you no matter how many harsh strokes you made through it, your eyes had a sadness you couldn’t remove no matter how many times you’d tried smiling at yourself in the mirror, and your cheeks had an abnormal flush. You’d thought you were doing better, and then, you saw Jimmy again. Every horrible thing you’d done came flooding back, and it reopened the wound inside you’d tried so hard to mend. 

Dean came up behind you and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, but you hardly registered it. With his arms around your waist, his eyes met yours in the mirror. “Are you okay?”

You turned to face him. “I don’t even know anymore, Dee. Are you okay?”

His lack of an answer was enough for you. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you said. 

“For what? You haven’t done anything,” he answered. 

“I know. But I figured you’d wanna hear it from someone.”

He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, and you tilted your chin up to kiss his nose. 

“I don’t know how to help him, (Y/N),” Dean sniffled. He was trying his best to hold back tears, and it broke your heart.

You reached up to cup both sides of his face. “It’s not your job to help him. I know you want to, but you can’t help somebody who doesn’t wanna help themselves.”

“I’m gonna damn well try.”

“Dean, I tried with Steven. And I lost him anyway.” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so harsh, but it was the truth. “Look, I think we’re doing the only thing we can do for him right now. And if, after he detoxes, he chooses to relapse? We can’t do anything about that.”

Dean broke away from you and walked over to the bed with his shoulders squared. “He’s not gonna. I’m not gonna let him.”

“I don’t think you would’ve let him start demon blood in the first place, and here we are,” you responded. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Look, I don’t wanna fight with you. Not you. Not right now. Can we just go to sleep? Please?” 

Dean’s face was stoic, but he nodded. 

When you’d slipped under the covers with him, he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.” He kissed your forehead.

“I know, baby, it’s okay.” You brushed a hand over his head and rested it around his neck. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, sweetheart.”

****

The next day, you stood with Dean outside the panic room. Sam had been slamming against the door for hours, and you needed him to stop.

“Okay. Let me out. This is not funny,” the younger brother pleaded, grabbing the bars on the small window.

“Damn straight,” Dean replied gruffly.

You leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, simply listening.

“Dean, come on. This is crazy,” Sam chuckled, although there was an edge of nervousness in his voice.

“No. Not until you dry out.”

“Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you. Just open the door.”

Dean’s face drew together. “You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. It's not your fault that you lied to me over and over again. I get it now. You couldn't help it.”

Sam sighed. “I'm not some junkie.”

“Really? I guess I've just imagined how strung out you've been lately,” the older one scoffed.

“You're actually trying to twist this into some kind of ridiculous drug intervention?”

Dean shrugged. “If it smells like a duck.”

“Dean, I'm not drinking the demon blood for kicks. I'm getting strong enough to kill Lilith.”

“And my brother didn’t do drugs for kicks,” you couldn’t help but add, “he did it to calm himself down after my dad beat his ass. He did it ‘cause his life sucked. There’s always a reason, Sam.”

“You’re acting like I’m shooting heroin—!”

“You might as well be!” you shouted back. “You think this is making you ‘stronger,’ but you are erratic. You’re weak. You’re desperate.”

“Try pathetic,” Dean added.

“Killing Lilith is what matters. Or are you two so busy being self-righteous you forgot about her?” Sam snarled.

“Oh, Lilith's gonna die. Bobby, (Y/N), and I will kill her. But not with you.”

“You're not serious.”

“Congrats, Sammy,” Dean stated firmly. “You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the apocalypse.” 

Despite Sam’s begging for Dean not to go and to let him out, Dean shut the window and walked away. You cast one look at the door before following him out. 

****

Sam’s screaming had gone on for hours. No matter how many glasses of whiskey you and Dean drank, you couldn’t drown it out. 

“And I thought meth withdrawals were bad,” you said monotonously, taking another sip of your whiskey.

“How long is this gonna go on?” Dean asked Bobby.

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Here, let me look it up in my demon-detox manual. Oh wait. No one ever wrote one. No telling how long it'll take. Hell, or if Sam will even live through it.” Leaving you with that thought, Bobby’s phone rang. “Hello. Suck dirt and die, Rufus. You call me again, I'll kill you.”

Dean made a face. “What's up with Rufus?”

“He knows,” Bobby replied simply. 

It left you with more questions than answers. 

Then, Bobby’s phone rang again. “I'm busy, you son of a bitch. This better be important.”

As it turned out, the news Rufus had to share was incredibly important. So many seals were breaking at incredible speeds, and there couldn’t be many left intact.

“Where the hell are your angel pals?” Bobby nodded at you.

You shook your head. “For once, I wish I knew.”

Bobby looked like he didn’t want to say what he was about to. “I'm just wondering…”

“What?” you and Dean asked.

“The apocalypse being nigh and all…” he trailed off, “is now really the right time to be having this little domestic drama of ours?”

Dean’s shoulders went rigid. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don't like this any more than you do, but Sam can kill demons. He's got a shot at stopping Armageddon.”

The older brother scoffed. “So what? Sacrifice Sam's life, his soul, for the greater good? Is that what you're saying? Times are bad, so let's use Sam as a nuclear warhead?”

“Look, I know you hate me for suggesting it. I hate me for suggesting it,” Bobby responded. “I love that boy like a son. All I'm saying, is maybe he's here right now instead of on the battlefield because we love him too much.”

You nodded. “I get it,” you said after a moment. 

“You do?” Dean glared at you. 

“Yes.” You glared right back. “To hell with the apocalypse. But remember what I said last night? About ‘you can’t help somebody who won’t help themselves’?”

Dean nodded, though his eyebrows were still furrowed and angry. 

“Sam doesn’t want to stop,” you said. “And it stings. And I hate it. But we can’t keep ‘im locked in there forever. Even if we do stop the apocalypse, we could let Sam out and he could immediately go out for another fix.”

“I can’t believe you, (Y/N)—” Dean shook his head.

“Dean,” you cut him off. “I already lost my brother. I don’t want you to lose yours. I don’t wanna lose my friend. I’m telling you, I think letting him out might be the move.”

Dean shook his head and headed to the door. You didn’t see him for hours after that.

****

While you were upstairs writing in your journal, you heard a subtle flapping of angel wings from the corner of your room.

“What do you want, Castiel,” you sighed. 

“Hello, (Y/N),” he replied.

“We’re gonna set some boundaries now, ‘kay?” You shut the journal and crossed the room to the angel. He didn’t react to the finger you shoved in his face, but it was clear it annoyed him slightly. “You don’t get to turn into Uriel on me, alright? You don’t get to do that. I won’t answer your every beck and call. You can tell me what you want me to do, but that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. Got it?”

“Have you finished?” Castiel asked monotonously.

Your glare was enough of an answer for him.

“You will answer when I call. You will do as I say. Remember, my orders do not come from me. They come from—”

“Oh, the big man upstairs?” you scoffed and turned away from him. “And where the fuck has he been? Multiple seals have broken in the last few hours alone, and you and the angels seem to be on sabbatical. But, please, order me to go stop all of them on my own without any divine intervention. Go ahead.”

“I’m growing tired of your whining, (Y/N),” Castiel told you. “You will let Sam out of the safe room tonight.”

You snorted. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you know what Heaven will make you do if you don’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Clarence.”

He sighed. “The order doesn’t come from me, (Y/N). You know that.”

“So, here’s my options, right?” Tears welled in your eyes. “Either I submit fully to Heaven’s whims, or you make me torture my boyfriend. And you would do that to me: you, Castiel.” 

“You cannot put this on me,” he responded flatly. “My orders are from my superiors. I am merely the messenger between them and the humans in my charge. I am not doing anything to you. Heaven isn’t, either. You make the choice here.”

When you looked back up, he was gone.

****

Castiel had apparently paid Dean a visit after he met with you, and Dean swore to obey Heaven’s orders for the greater good of humanity.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but you willingly signed up to be the angels' bitch?” Bobby questioned Dean. 

The screams from Sam in the basement were deafening you despite how muffled they actually were. 

Dean gave Bobby a harsh look

“I'm sorry. You prefer 'sucker'?” the elder man scoffed. “After everything you said about them, now you trust them?”

“Bobby, go easy,” you urged. “They probably threatened him the way they’ve been threatening me.”

Dean whipped his head to meet your eyes. “They’re still threatening you?”

You looked down at the floor.

Your partner sighed and looked back at Bobby. “I've never trusted them less. I mean, they come on like shady politicians from planet Vulcan. I just— I’m out of options. It's either trust the angels or let Sammy trust a demon.”

Bobby finally nodded. “I see your point.”

The room quieted. In fact, everything was quiet. “Y’all hear that?” you questioned.

“Yeah, that's a little too much nothing,” Bobby replied. 

Immediately, the three of you sprinted to the basement and opened the window in the door. Your eyes immediately landed on Sam who was convulsing on the floor of the panic room violently.

“What if he's faking?” Dean asked you.

“That’s not faking,” you said, and you immediately threw open the door.

The three of you did your best to hoist him to the cot and hold him there. 

“We're gonna have to tie him down for his own safety!” Bobby shouted over Sam’s choking. “Dean? You with me? Dean! Before he has another fit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let's just get it over with,” the older brother finally replied.

****

The seizure was the final straw for you. Ultimately, you were the reason Sam was seizing from withdrawals. You were the reason he was in pain, and you were helping Dean hurt him. You tried to convince yourself that you were only letting him out to fulfill Castiel’s wishes and protect Dean, but deep down, you felt it was the right thing to do.

You’d told Bobby and Dean you were just sitting with Sam until his seizure was over, but you’d opened the door for him and untied him. Once back upstairs, you heard Bobby and Dean arguing.

“I'm gonna ask one more time. Are we absolutely sure we're doing the right thing?” Bobby asked, looking between you and Dean.

The younger man sighed. “Bobby, you saw what was happening to him down there. The demon blood is killing him.”

Bobby’s voice got quiet. “No, it isn't. We are.”

‘Okay, good. At least he’s feeling the same.’ You almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I'm sorry. I can't bite my tongue any longer. We're killing him. Keeping him locked up down there. This cold-turkey thing isn't working. If— If he doesn't get what he needs, soon, Sam's not gonna last much longer.”

“No. I'm not giving him demon blood. I won't do it.”

“What if he dies, Dean?” you asked.

“Then at least he dies human!” he argued. “I would die for him in a second, but I won't let him do this to himself. I can't. I guess I found my line. I won't let my brother turn into a monster.”

**** After you’d ensured Sam was out of the room, you couldn’t hold it back any longer. You knew Dean would be furious, but you’d done as Castiel asked. Castiel never explicitly told you not to tell Dean, so now was the time.

“Okay,” you finally said as you finished drying the last dish from dinner. “I can’t hold it in anymore.”

Dean chuckled. “What? Your stomach’s already that upset?”

You would’ve smiled had the circumstances not been different. “No. I let Sam out.”

The room went completely silent.

“You’re kidding,” Dean said.

“I’m not.”

“Dammit, (Y/N)!” he roared, immediately standing from the table. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Because Castiel made me!”

“No, you can’t use the angel excuse this time,” he grunted. “You wanted to let him out. Hell, that’s what we’ve been arguing all day about!”

“No, Dean, I’m serious!” you answered. “He was in our room last night. He told me the same thing that Uriel told me. That if I didn’t comply, I’d have to hurt you.”

“And why would the angels want him high on demon blood? I mean, what reason would they have to let ‘im out!” 

“I don’t know, Dean!” you answered. “Look, I was honest with you. I let him out. Heaven’s orders. But they never said we couldn’t track ‘im down and bring him back.”

Dean was clearly still fuming, but he nodded. “Fine. If something happens to him, I swear to god, (Y/N)—” 

“I don’t want him in danger anymore than you do! I swear. I wouldn’t have let him out if it weren’t for the angels. I would’ve kept him locked up, because even if I disagree with you, he’s your brother. I wouldn’t go behind your back like that without angel intervention. I promise.” Your words seemed to sink in a bit. “I swear, Dean.”

“Alright!” he huffed finally. “I’m allowed to be pissed off about this. But I believe you.”

You breathed out in relief. “Thank you. He would’ve taken one of Bobby’s cars. I’ll run all the plates and find the one that’s missing. Okay?”

“Okay.”

****

You worked hard through the whole night to find where Sam had taken Bobby’s car. Around ten that morning, you got a hit. 

Dean walked over to you with a cup of coffee. Though he was still mad, you were grateful for the small peace offering. “Police found Bobby’s car.”

“They did?” Bobby cut in.

“Yep,” you replied. “Abandoned in an alley in Jamestown, North Dakota.”

“He's switching up,” Dean nodded. “Any other cars stolen in Jamestown?”

“Two: nineteen ninety-nine Honda Civic, blue—” you began.

Bobby cut you off. “Nice and anonymous, like Sam likes.”

“What was the other one?” Dean questioned.

“White oh-five Escalade with custom rims. It's a neon sign,” you answered.

“You're right. He'd never take that. Which is exactly what he did,” your partner decided.

“You think?”

“I know that kid,” Dean insisted. “Alright, I'll head in that direction. You stay here, ride the police databases,” he told Bobby. “C’mon, (Y/N). We gotta find him quick.”

****

And you did. Dean truly knew his brother better than anyone. Sure enough, the flashy car Dean knew Sam would’ve stolen was parked in the lot of a hook-up motel, a place Dean knew his brother would never stay unless he was trying to evade Dean.

“Dee, are you gonna be okay?” you asked him quietly before the two of you got out of the car.

He couldn’t verbally respond. He just took a deep breath and nodded. You pulled the demon knife out of the glove box, and you and Dean headed inside. 

You hid around the corner at the end of the hallway and waited for Sam or Ruby— who you knew he had to be with— to leave his room. Soon enough, you heard Sam’s unmistakable and retreating footsteps. 

Dean’s face was set in hard lines as he peered around the corner at his brother. Your heart cracked in your chest at the entire situation. 

With the demon knife clutched in your hand, you steeled your nerves and entered Sam’s room. 

“Sam?” Ruby called from inside. You could tell she was lounging on the bed from the way half of her body was concealed by the wall that formed the bathroom in front of you. 

“Guess again,” you said, and you were on her in an instant. Since you’d managed to catch her slightly off-guard, she was unprepared for the way you slashed at her throat with the demon knife. The knife only managed to scratch her as she pushed you off her. Dean was next to brawl with her, and you tossed the knife to him that he caught effortlessly. As you fought Ruby, the two of you moved expertly. You had become so accustomed to Dean’s fighting style, and him to yours, that the two of you moved almost as if you were dancing. 

Within minutes, Sam was back in the room and joining the fray. He begged you and Dean to stop, but neither of you relented.

“Well, it must've been some party you two had going, considering how hard you tried to keep me from crashing it. Well, solid try, but here I am,” Dean snarled.

“Dean, I'm glad you're here. Look. Let's just talk about this.” Sam held his hands out as you stalked around Ruby.

“Not until she’s dead,” you insisted.

Sam cut his eyes at you. “Ruby, get out of here.”

“No, she's not going anywhere.”

Sam stepped in front of his brother as Dean tried to rush Ruby. 

“She's poison, Sam,” Dean insisted.

“It's not what you think, Dean.”

“Look what she did to you. I mean, she up and vanishes weeks at a time, leaves you cracking out for another hit—”

“She was looking for Lilith.”

“Bullshit,” you jumped in. 

Sam shook his head. “You're wrong, guys.”

“Sam, you're lying to yourself. I just want you to be okay,” Dean tried. His eyes had softened considerably. “You would do the same for me. You know you would.”

“Just listen.” He tossed Ruby’s knife that he’d taken from Dean onto the bed. “Just listen for a second. We got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. Come with us, Dean. We'll do this together.”

Dean nodded with his lips pursed. “That sounds great. As long as it's you, me and (Y/N). Demon-bitch is a dealbreaker. You kiss her goodbye, we can go right now.”

Sam’s face fell. “I can't.”

Dean shook his head and turned away.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

“Dean, I need her to help me kill Lilith,” Sam insisted. “I know you can't wrap your head around it, but maybe one day you'll understand. I'm the only one who can do this, Dean.”

“No,” you said. 

“No?” Sam scoffed. “Right, I forgot. The angels think it's you two.”

“You don't think we can?” Dean questioned pointedly.

“No,” he snapped, “you can't. You're not strong enough.”

“Oh, and you are?” you laughed coldly. “Who the fuck do you think you are, dude?”

“I'm being practical here. I'm doing what needs to be done.”

“Yeah? You're not gonna do a single damn thing,” Dean insisted.

Sam shouted, “Stop bossing me around, Dean. Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I'm asking you, for once, trust me.”

“No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then that's worse.”

“Why? Look, I'm telling you—”

Dean cut Sam off. “Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means—” He stopped his sentence short.

“What? No. Say it.” Tears had formed in Sam’s eyes, and despite your anger, you were heartbroken for him.

Dean took a deep breath. “It means you're a monster.”

Sam nodded sharply, and he wiped away a sniffle before punching Dean hard.

“What the fuck?!” you shouted.

“Stay out of this, (Y/N)!” Sam replied.

You rushed Sam, jabbing your elbow underneath his jaw and uppercutting him.

Dean was back in the fight, and the two of you tried your hardest to pull your punches in an attempt to keep from hurting you. However, it seemed that Sam had other plans. His punches were hard. His punches were angry. You felt hatred behind his jabs, and the feelings were physically hurting you worse than any of the punches he threw.

He threw you into the wardrobe roughly, and you felt a muscle in your back pull. Then, you raised your head to see Sam above Dean choking him viciously.

You cocked your gun from the heap you were in on the ground aimed at Sam’s head. The brunet snapped his head toward you, and hurt flashed across his face at the determination in your expression. “Let go of him now, or I swear to god, I will shoot you like a fucking dog, Winchester.” 

To your relief, Sam listened. Dean gasped and choked while he clutched at his throat.

Sam’s jaw was set. He stood up with his hands raised. “You don't know me. You never did. And you never will.” The brunet walked toward the door.

“You walk out that door,” Dean choked out, “don't you ever come back.”

Sam stopped for a moment. He looked at the damage he’d caused, then once at the two of you, and then, he left.

Every bone in your body hurt, but you willed yourself to rise from the floor for Dean’s sake. 

“Dean?” you coughed. “Baby?”

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly from his unmoving position on the floor. “Yeah, I’m here, sweetheart.”

You limped over to him, clutching your side where you’d caught Sam’s leg when he kicked you. “Can you sit up?”

“I’m fine, (Y/N),” he insisted.

“No, shut up.”

His mouth immediately closed.

“Can you sit up?”

He nodded, and you helped him into a sitting position against the bed. 

“I know you don’t wanna hear it right now—”

“(Y/N)—” Dean warned, an edge in his voice.

“—but I am so fucking sorry.” You bent down next to him.

With his eyes closed, Dean just reached for your hand. You took it immediately, and Dean squeezed it to assure you he appreciated your apology.

****

You’d had a horrible migraine since the fight with Sam, and you didn’t doubt that you had a concussion.

“I’ll kill ‘im for what he did to you,” Dean snarled, clutching a beer bottle. The two of you sat at the table in Bobby’s kitchen.

“It’s okay,” you said.

“No, (Y/N), it’s not.”

“I agree, it’s not,” Bobby chimed in. He handed you a fresh ice pack that made you wince when you put it to your head. “Maybe you should give ‘im a call.”

Dean was completely zoned out, staring out the window behind you.

“Dean? Dean! You listen to a word I said?” Bobby called.

“Yeah, I heard you. I'm not calling him.”

“Don't make me get my gun, boy,” Bobby sighed.

Finally, the older Winchester turned toward him. “We are damn near kickoff for Armageddon, don't you think we got bigger fish at the moment?”

“I know you're pissed. And I'm not making apologies for what he's done, but he's your—”

Dean cut him off. “Blood? He's my blood, is that what you were gonna say?”

Bobby gave him a sharp look. “He's your brother. And he's drowning.”

“I know he is,” you said. “But we should not call him right now. Steven was addicted to meth; I’ve told you this. He doesn’t want help. Neither did Steve. If we keep trying, we’re just gonna push him further to his drug.”

“It’s not too late for him, kid. You gotta keep tryin’.”

“No, damnit! No.” Dean’s voice softened. “I gotta face the facts. Sam never wanted part of this family. He hated this life growing up. Ran away to Stanford first chance he got. Now it's like déjà vu all over again. Well, I am sick and tired of chasing him. Screw him, he can do what he wants.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Yes I do, Bobby. Sam's gone. He's gone. I'm not even sure if he's still my brother anymore. If he ever was.”

Bobby was fuming for a reason you couldn’t understand. He swiped his hand across his desk, throwing books and papers to the ground. He advanced on Dean, and you froze.

“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch! Both of you!” Bobby roared. “Well, boo hoo, I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess! Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good?! Bake you an apple pie, maybe? They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family!”

“Bobby, we can’t fix him if he doesn’t want to be fixed! Why don’t you get that?!” you responded loudly. 

“You sound like a whiny brat.” Bobby turned back to Dean. “And you? You sound like your dad. Well, let me tell you something. Your dad was a coward.”

“You’re way off-base, Singer,” you sneered.

“Don’t you tell me what I am, kid. Both of you, listen to me. Your dad? He'd rather push Sam away than reach out to him. Well, that don't strike me as brave. You are a better man than your daddy ever was. So you do both of us a favor. Don't be him.”

You shook your head and huffed, turning away from the two men.

When you looked back up, you were suddenly in the cabin you’d tortured those vessels in. “Oh, you fuckers.”

“Whoa, (Y/N), mind your language, kiddo,” Zachariah sneered. 

“What do you want, man?” you asked. Your voice was more exhausted than anything. “Why am I here?”

“Excuse the nostalgia trip,” he replied. “We just needed to separate you from the elderly alcoholic and our man-of-the-hour.”

Your brow furrowed. “Dean? What do you want with him?”

“We’re just keeping him safe until it’s time for him to play his part,” he replied simply.

Your stomach had dropped slightly, an unsettled feeling within you. “What about the apocalypse? Shouldn’t we be focusing on that instead of ‘keeping Dean safe’?” you asked.

A slow smile stretched across his face. “We’ve got one seal left until showtime.”

“You dropped the ball that bad?” you scoffed. “And what does that have to do with Dean?” Suddenly, realization smacked you like a ton of bricks. Your breath quickened, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. “Oh,” you laughed in bewilderment, “oh. You don’t want to stop the apocalypse, do you?”

“Nope. Never did,” the angel smiled. “The end is nigh. The apocalypse is coming, kiddo, to a theater near you.”

“Then why did you nearly get us killed several times tryin’ to save seals?” you asked.

“Our grunts on the ground; we couldn't just tell them the whole truth. We'd have a full-scale rebellion on our hands. I mean, think about it. Would we really let sixty-five seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?” Zachariah stated snarkily.

You shook your head, beginning to pace the floor while you ran a hand through your hair.

“The apocalypse— poor name, bad marketing; puts people off— when all it is is Ali/Foreman. On a... slightly larger scale. And we like our chances. When our side wins— and we will— it's paradise on earth. Now, what's not to like about that?” he grinned.

“You’re gonna waste millions of people in the name of a petty dick-measuring contest?” you questioned in complete befuddlement. 

He shrugged. “Well, you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case, truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. Look, it happens. This isn't the first planetary enema we've delivered.”

You just continued to shake your head. “I can’t fucking believe this.” “Seems Uriel was right about your language and insubordination,” he droned.

“Oh, go to Hell.” You spun on your heel. “So, the plan’s to keep me and Dean locked up while Sam does… what, exactly?” You looked at him expectantly.

Zachariah inhaled deeply. “Sam has a part to play. A very important part. He may need a little nudging in the right direction, but I'll make sure he plays it.”

“What does that mean? What are you gonna do to him?” you asked.

“Sam, Sam, Sam. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.” The angel rolled his eyes. “Forget about him, would you? You have larger concerns. Why do you think I'm confiding in you? You're still vital, dear (Y/N).”

“Which means…?”

He just smirked at you. 

“Okay, if you won’t tell me what you want with me, tell me what you want with Dean.”

“You humans and your false loyalties,” he sighed mockingly, shaking his head. “Dean’s going to stop Lucifer.”

“How the fuck is he supposed to do that?” you questioned pointedly, crossing your arms. 

“You’re going to help him. And when it's over, and when you've won, your rewards will be... unimaginable. Peace, happiness,” he trailed off and chuckled. “Trust me, one day, we'll look back on this and laugh.”

You sneered, “How much of this is ‘god’s divine plan’? “His plan to prosper and not to harm us’?” 

Zachariah laughed coldly. “God? God has left the building. I’ll leave you to stew in your melancholy. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Despite his threats, as soon as he was gone, you ran full-force at the cracked window beside the fireplace. Unfortunately, all that did was really hurt your shoulder, and the window remained intact. You groaned, and then, you picked up a chair to hurl at the same window. Still, nothing worked. 

Tears of frustration formed in your eyes, and your heartbeat roared in your ears. Nearly ripping at the roots of your hair, you tried to collect yourself with a few deep breaths. 

It was all too much. It was too heavy. And then, something dawned on you. Lilith was the last seal. You remembered something from the copy of Revelations your mother once owned that the first demon— Lilith— was supposed to die in order to break the sixty-sixth seal. 

“You let me out right now!” you screamed, banging on the walls. “Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

Suddenly, Castiel appeared behind you.

“What do you want, you son of a bitch—” you snarled. 

“I am sorry for what we’ve done to you,” he said, cutting you off. “Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Where’s Dean?!”

Before he could answer your question, you’d been transported to the outside of a church. The sky was dark and ominous above it, and your apprehension mounted when you saw the red stained glass adorning the windows of the slowly collapsing exterior.

“(Y/N)?” 

You audibly sighed in relief as you ran toward the source of the voice. “Dean!”

He caught you in his arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He breathed you in deeply, and you closed your eyes in content. Then, he began his usual search of your face and body for injuries while his hands cupped your chin. “You okay?”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “Are you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. C’mon, we gotta go,” he said, running toward the back entrance of the church with your hand in his.

“I’m assuming you got the same spiel that I did?” you asked.

“What, with the angels bringin’ on Armageddon? Unfortunately.”

“Yeah. Lilith’s the last seal. If she dies, so does half the world.”

Dean kicked in the back door with ease, and then, you came to a much larger set of wooden doors that would’ve been much, much harder for him to kick down. You could hear a sultry voice singing Sam’s name, and then, the younger Winchester spoke himself.

“Sam, don’t!” you cried. 

Dean continued trying to break the door down, and you kept screaming for Sam to listen to you.

“(Y/N)?” Sam called, his voice small. “Dean, are you there?”

“Sam!” Dean shouted between heaving breaths. “Sam! Don’t!”

Then, you heard Ruby and Lilith egging him on. 

“Sam, no!” you screamed. 

It was too late. You heard a whooshing sound followed by Lilith choking on her own blood, and your eyes widened in horror. Then, they landed on a large, iron candelabra. “Dean, help!”

He immediately rushed to your aid, and the two of you used the base of the candelabra as a battering ram. Over the clanging of iron against the door, you could hear Ruby monologuing about how masterful her plan had been in getting Sam to kill Lilith. Sure enough, Ruby had been on Hell’s side the whole time. 

The two of you finally broke through the door, and you reached into Dean’s jacket to grab the demon knife. Ruby stood from the side of a hunched over Sam to confront you and the older brother.

“You’re too late,” she smirked.

“I don't care,” Dean replied.

You advanced on Ruby, a dangerous look in your eyes, and Sam grabbed her from behind to hold her in place. You plunged the knife into her stomach, making sure she held eye contact with you as the light drained from her.

Sam sputtered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy, let’s go,” Dean urged. 

Then, you noticed the blood pouring from Lilith’s mouth had formed a spiraling circular pattern on the floor. “Uh, guys?” Suddenly, a brilliant white light shot up from the center point of the pattern, and the convent began to shake.

Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you to his side with one arm, and you clutched his jacket.

“He’s—” 

Your eyes met Sam’s as he spoke. He was clutching Dean’s shirt, and Dean was clutching him with his other arm.

“He’s coming.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @jusbear @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl l @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[tsaheylutales]

hiiiii!

if you’re still taking requests, i’d love to see steve with someon like him. someone who’s like loud, snart, flirty, flirts with him and they’re like “wait, you actually like me?! wtf???? i thought it was just a game!” queue kisses (maybe a liitle smut 👀)

i love yr writing tbw!! 🤍🤍🤍 everything dad!steve is just so fucking sweet!!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Hii! Yes I'm still taking request, Thank you so much for leaving one! I didn't do any smut but the kiss does get a bit heavy. let me know what you think!

about 1k words.

You and Steve were always flirting. That was just how your friendship was. You’d wear ridiculously low-cut shirts and lean over the counter at just the right angle and watch Steve’s eyes flicker down, up, and back down again.

You’d smirk. He’d cough, and pretend he wasn’t looking.

It was a game. A safe, ridiculous game you’d both been playing for months. No rules, no consequences.

But lately…It’s been feeling less like a game. And more like something you didn’t quite know how to handle.

It was a slow Tuesday and the peak of Indiana summer. The AC was broken and all there was to cool you down was a tiny desk fan perched on the counter that occasionally turned just right and blessed your face with three seconds of relief.

You were wearing one of your thinnest tank tops, the kind that hung just low enough to make Steve’s jaw clench, paired with cut-off denim shorts and zero shame. Your skin was warm, a little sticky with sweat, and the heat made everything feel heavier. Slower. Needier.

Steve was trying to make himself useful. Or at least look useful.

He was kneeling by the horror section, stacks of VHS tapes beside him, pretending to reorganize what definitely did not need reorganizing. You’d watched him line up the same row of tapes three times already, each time fussing with the angle like it mattered.

It didn’t. Not when his eyes kept drifting to you every few seconds.

“You good, Harrington?”

He stood up too fast, bumping into the shelf. “Yeah! Fine. Totally fine.” He says, pupils blown wide, mouth slightly open, tongue darting out to wet his lips. His eyes fall to your chest.

You smirk, voice sickly sweet. “Getting a bit hot and bothered there, babe?”

Steve freezes.

His jaw works for a second, like he’s trying to form words and failing, before his eyes flutter shut for a moment and he lets out a low, shaky breath.

Then he marches over.

Not striding. Not swaggering. Marches like he’s made a decision and there’s no going back.

You barely have time to process before he’s right in front of you, hands gripping the edge of the counter on either side of your thighs, locking you in.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” Steve breathes, voice low and wrecked, like he’s one second from completely losing control.

You tilt your head, lips curled in a knowing smile. “Think I do. S’part of the game.”

His eyes flicker, something shifts behind them. Less teasing, more need.

“Yeah?” He says, stepping even closer. “Well I don’t want to play anymore.”

You blink, heart skipping, breath catching. Because the look he gives you? It’s not the usual cocky, flirty Steve.

It’s real. Desperate. Like he’s been aching for this, for you, and he’s finally giving himself permission to stop pretending it’s all just a game.

“Then stop playing.” You say quietly.

He doesn’t hesitate.

His mouth crashes against yours, messy, open-mouthed and hungry. You gasp into his mouth and he takes full advantage, deepening the kiss with a kind of desperation that sends heat straight through you. His lips are soft but needy, his tongue insistent, teeth catching on your bottom lip just hard enough to make you whimper.

Your hands move from his shirt to his hair, threading through the soft strands, tugging just enough to make him groan, low and rough in the back of his throat, like he needs this.

He kisses you deeper, hungrier, hands gripping your thighs like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded. Then, suddenly, he pulls back just enough to breathe, not far, just enough to mouth along your jaw, your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below your ear.

“You have no idea how much I like you, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your skin.

You freeze. Just slightly. Your fingers still in his hair, breath catching. “Wait…”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your voice caught somewhere between disbelief and nervous laughter. “So you actually like me?”

Steve leans back just enough to see your face, and he’s smiling, but it’s not cocky or flirty this time. It’s soft. Real.

His eyes search yours like he’s trying to figure out if you’re messing with him.

“Yeah, I like you.” He says quietly, like it’s obvious. “I’ve been losing my mind over you for, like, months. Thought it was pretty clear.”

You stare at him. And now you’re the one reeling. You blink once. Twice.

“Steve…” You breathe, suddenly aware of how fast your heart is beating.

“I thought we were just… playing.” You say, softer now. “I didn’t think you actually meant it.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, a little stunned, like he’s the one who can’t believe you didn’t know.

“Babe.” He says, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “I’ve dropped about seventy-five tapes, called you every name except your own, and haven’t been able to look at you without forgetting how to speak. You really thought that was just flirting?”

Your cheeks are warm, but not from the heat anymore. You smile, small, a little dazed. “I… didn’t know you liked me back.” You admit, blinking up at him.

He grins, wide and so Steve, brushing his nose against yours.

“Well.” He murmurs. “Now you do.”

And then he kisses you again.

This time softer, slower, like now that the truth’s out, there’s no rush. No more hiding.

Just you.

And Steve.

And the kind of kiss that says this isn’t a game anymore.

[lowstakesvampires]

congratulations!

your Weird Nocturnal Babysitter has been upgraded to Father

[elodieunderglass]

And one amang, an Iyrysch man,

Uppone his hoby swyftly ran…

WAIT HANG ON - slamming the brakes on drawing this stupid picture - do you nerds even KNOW the etymology of the word “hobby”? The thing you do for pleasure? The thing you have too many of? The thing you spend too much money on and share with your friends? The thing tumblr probably is to you? Those hobbies?

It comes from a now-kind-of-extinct breed of Irish pony-horse. It was called the Irish Hobby. Supposedly the hobby got its name from the Gaelic word obann, or swift. They definitely were. They’d obann your pants clean off.

Fast tough little bastards, built for rough terrain and renowned for their speed and stamina, hobby horses belonged to the Celts, and their highly annoying style of mounted warfare. but their conquerors liked hobby horses a lot, kept them, used them for themselves, and found them useful enough, despite the fact that they also had famously useful things like mounted knights or horse archers. A lightweight Irish warrior, mounted on a hobby horse, was called a hobelar.

Reportedly and in depictions, hobelars rode without stirrups. Or saddles. Or bridles. Or - well - this is all sounding very improbable, because the hobelars COULDNT have just been charging around basically bare-assed on naked ponies, screaming, and somehow in the process undoing the composure of actual mounted armoured knights. Knights who, I remind you, had stirrups. Stirrups are useful! It’s quite likely the hobelars had some gear. And clothes. and weapons. And the ponies probably had some tack - I am picturing a bellyband that you could at least hang a saddlebag on, and a neck rope for catching the bloody thing, even if not a saddle. But the overall impression, somehow created by people on darling little ponies, was apparently quite striking and fearful.

I mean. God Forbid People Have Hobbies.

Anyway after a while, whatever people became the British had eventually conquered all of the rough terrain that hobbies were best at, and horse archers just got sexier, and mounted knights became aristos, and all the bog and forest people had been subdued, so it was time to sunset the hobelars. but WAIT! Hobby horses are still tremendously fun and appealing! They’re so fast! and you can ride them without a saddle! Sure, they’re not up to the weight of a mounted knight, or indeed a lot of guys… but surely we can still find a use for a hobby or two? In the back garden? Somewhere?

At which point an English king decided to keep hobby horses just for fun. No military application. No further development of the technology. Not for fun. Just as expensive, pleasurable, pets. Just for the joy of the thing.

And that is how hobby (activity done purely for pleasure) comes from hobby horse (small horse) possibly from obann (swift.) they’re very interesting and you should look all this up for yourself! because it sure sounds like Elodie doing a bit, doesn’t it?

Today, Irish Hobbies are functionally nonexistent. References for drawing include the Kerry Bog Pony, the Connemara, and (I personally think) Dartmoors and Exmoors. They’re said to have lent their speed to the Irish Hunter/Sport Horse and from there to the Thoroughbred, but every damn horse in the world claims relation to the Thoroughbred, and they can’t be THAT thoroughly bred.

At any rate - you can never have enough hobbies. Just be glad that yours aren’t expensive beasts with minds of their own, eating their heads off in the pasture! …Unless they are. In which case, you’re part of a proud tradition.

[paintedcrows-caws]

Front row seat to Alex Hirsch's InMotion London Talk!! Aaaa!! (The high quality close up photos were taken by the wonderful @stupidlittlespirit! Who was sitting with me and had a far better camera, haha)

You can watch the full thing here, recorded by the brilliant Topaz Animation!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hn_O7CMM67A&t=137s

[shroomerr]

Oh, help me God, this hellboy got me coming back for more

reblogs super appreciated !!! close-ups under the cut !

[fatalism-and-villainy]

I was trying to pinpoint the main appeal or most compelling angle of Garashir for me personally today, especially when it comes to Bashir’s perspective on it. And I honestly think it’s the idea of lost youth and innocence (and this is particularly pertinent to how a post-canon relationship between them might unfold, which is useful for me as I’m trying to find the right approach to them in this fic I’m working on).

It’s that Bashir initially saw Garak as a symbol of intrigue and excitement, of the sort of adventure that he fantasized about and went to seek out on the “frontier.” The way their initial dynamic and its charming banter was a fanciful escape for him. And then that fantasy gets steadily chipped away, starting with The Wire, where Garak lays bare for him the reality of what kind of person he was and what the life of a spy entails, and where Bashir stays resolute and doesn’t turn on him but nonetheless receives a dose of reality regarding Garak’s past. The events of Our Man Bashir unfold, in which they remain on breezy terms by the end, but which nonetheless serves as a reminder that Garak’s time as a spy was marked by ruthless pragmatism rather than altruism, driven by political agendas rather than heroic impulses.

And then Bashir gets caught up in his own spy arc, and it’s wrenching and traumatizing and disillusioning. He’s kidnapped and tortured and made an unwilling party in the plot to throw Cretak under the bus - the amoral political maneuvering that espionage actually entails in order to uphold nation states. And then, when pushed to desperation, he deploys the exact same interrogation tactics that he learned from Sloan himself. All of which makes him intimately familiar, through firsthand experience, with the kind of things Garak was getting up to before the beginning of the show.

And so when they’re reunited on Cardassia… I honestly think he has trouble looking at Garak or knowing how to behave around him. Because his associations with Garak have shifted drastically, and now everything seems so much more real and consequential. Garak isn’t a charming distraction anymore - rather, their interactions with each other are both bound up in local politics (as I see it), but also with the trauma that Bashir is carrying within him, and with the crumbling of the ideals he used to hold dear. And there’s what Bashir himself has been culpable for with the kidnapping and interrogation of Sloan, as well as the way the war has generally hardened him. Which leads to the fear that he’s no longer attractive to Garak because he’s lost the innocence that once drew Garak to him, and that he reflects the worst of Garak’s past in the way that Garak now reflects the worst of his.

On top of the fact that the fantasies of Bashir’s youth have become horrifyingly real, there’s also the matter of him contending with aging in general, and with the question of what his life has been dedicated to and where it’s going. The fact that he’s still serving an institution in which his faith has been shaken, but that he still believes, or wants to believe, enables him to do some amount of good; the fact that he’s approaching forty and still isn’t entirely sure of his life choices, or if he’s doing the right thing. He’s at an uncertain point in his life, and Garak complicates things further, because there’s the question of possibly entering a long-term relationship with Garak, and the commitment and sacrifice that entails, and the panic surrounding building his life around someone else.

Anyway, that’s what I’m aiming for with the Garashir portions of this fic. The melancholia, and the hope against hope that a new spark might be possible.

[n0bluev]

Another, zzz

[daily-hanamura]