#and my anxiety is fucking KILLING ME DUDE IT SUCKS OUT HERE SO BAD

[hershelchocolate]

Hello gamers just in case I have another sleepless night tonight (or a very terrible morning,) might I humbly request an ask or two or more to get my mind off of things <:3 they don't have to be big or important or anything I'd just need a distraction

[penguin--rat]

cardiomyocytes and connective tissue @nopanamaman

I’ve wanted to do a fic like this for some time now, a ‘thank you’ letter to PAFL and its community of sorts. I’m happy I finally got around to writing it:) 

I wasn’t sure whether I should do this or not, but, hey! It might make someone feel a bit better!! Or, reading the fic will. That’s enough reason, I think, and you don’t have to read this, of course, no matter who you are.

First of all, I want to talk about PAFL a bit.

The first PAFL song I listened to was PiP. I saw its thumbnail when listening to some other music youtube, and so, I listened to it. Oh boy am I glad I did:) I remember thinking how cool it is that someone's making songs for their OCs and that people are interested in them. I could see so much love for the characters in it. I was so happy when I discovered there were more songs like that!! This was around when Comfort Zone had first come out, a week or two after at most. That was two years ago. I’ve been obsessed ever since.

I love PAFL. I genuinely love that songs haven’t been coming out much lately. Like, there’s media that comes out weekly and sucks shit. I’m glad Ferry is taking their time with this!!! Even if all we get each year is one song, that’s cool, because the community is wonderful and we also get doodles and art and now patreon stuff.. yippee yay… !!! And even if we didn’t. who the fuck caressss!!!!! I love coming up with AUs and OCs and theorizing with my friends!!! the time between songs gives us time to do all that:)

The characters are so charming. Every member of the cast has been a fave of mine at some point or another. They’re all so, real! I love them! I love how they fuck up and I love how they get fucked over and I love how they get exploded and killed and shot and hugged and saved and helped!!! They’re human… might not make sense, but i rlly do like them…

It’s so neat looking back at older songs and seeing how stuff’s changed. The art style, the music, it’s all so nice to look back on. Even if I wasn’t there for it.

And don’t even get me started on the worldbuilding..  Everyone say thank you to Boris Strugackij and Arkadij Strugackij for making roadside picnic and inspiring Ferry to make this… so lovely and neat. wonderful. I have not read it myself, but I might, just to be able to make my own pafl OCs more swagger..

So. This fic.

I can’t mention two years ago without at least mentioning my depression.

I can’t remember most of last year, speaking truthfully. Parts of 2021 are also fuzzy. Depression and anxiety are terrible, would not recommend. This feels cheesy to say, but it does get better!!! Slowly, unsteadily, it gets better!!! I don’t mean for this part of the post to be a ‘feel bad for me’ thing at all. Do not. I am safe and healthy now and I couldn’t be happier to be here right now.

Is life good now?? Sorta, but what matters to me right now is, I’m happy!!! It feels so surreal. I never thought I’d be like this. A part of me wants to be angry, to get depressed again about how I could have been happy all this time. But I won’t!!! Because then I’d spiral and forget another year, and, I don’t want that!

Which is so cool!!! I can like, fucking, do stuff now!! I can throw away the bad thoughts, embrace the good ones, encourage myself!!! I do things!!! I go outside and goddd dude that’s so good!! I go outside!!!

I’m doing stuff! I’m drawing, writing, cleaning my room, taking care of myself!!! If I didn’t stay alive to enjoy these small joys, what am I even here for?? 

And I’m alive!!! I’m here!!! I made it, I’m here, writing this on 10th november, 2023, and I’m ALIVE!!!! How cool is that??? 

And yea, the world is shitty, it sucks ass, but, my friends don’t!!!:3 and that’s more than enough for me… SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIENDS!!! I LOVE YOU DUDES!!!

Moving on:

It doesn’t feel right to say that I’m here now only to PAFL. But, what I can say is that it’s been a wonderful crutch for me!! It’s been something to focus on, something silly, but also something I can relate to, and something that inspires me to make my own stuff! I’d most likely still be here, were it not for these silly songs.. but, not sure I’d be as alive as I am now! Unsure if my heart would feel right in my chest! And I wouldn’t have met my amazing friends!!!! Everyone here is so nice.

Dima may be a bit OOC in this fic, and that's because! This fic is based on my own experiences, which, i don’t think is bad…

I could talk here forever about how it gets better. Butttt to be quite honest I don’t wanna lol. I just wanna say, Thank you! to Parties are for Losers, for being cool. 

(Though I also wanna say, don’t put Ferry on a pedestal, they’re human, we all make mistakes, all that stuff.)

Ok time to go back to my manly Sergei ways and never talk about emotions ever again. or as anya would say: FUCK IT WE BALL!!!!!

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

anon who doesnt have aspd and taught myself empathy here yet again! i am Now Thinking and remembering that a huge part of why i've never tried to go to therapy or anything is coz like i Know i'd use what i learn to like, manipule ppl better and shit. i enjoy playing w ppl Too much and coz Fun Childhood i've been good at it all my life, but cognitively i recognise its bad so it would be bad and not fair for me to go to therapy and get even better at it and manipulate ppl i love for my own fun. and like even i dont do illegal shit or even like drink alcohol or smoke coz then i can keep the moral high ground in arguments w ppl and i can say whatever i want and call em out on shit and create a fuss for them and stir the pot and they cant call me a hypocrite. like so much of what i do is about making sure i have a level of ability to manipulate and control ppl and situations. so many behaviours which arent explained by autism, idk why i've just brushed all of them aside except that i've gotten bored by overthinking abt them, and ive mostly gotten to a point where they're under control and im content w life

but back to remorse and empathy i honestly just think they're not really necessarily useful things and ppl place so much importance on "oh im such a good person i have so much empathy" but will also use their empathy/remorse to control ppl? like i know ppl w bpd who use their genuine guilt and worries and stuff to get ppl to feel sorry for them and indulge them instead of confronting and working on it. like even ppl w/o mental illness will sometimes try to use the fact they feel bad abt smth to erase their culpability instead of actually fixing their mistakes. it can be confronting for them that some ppl can be like "oh shit i made a mistake. fuck. oh well" (and sometimes fix their mistake/take responsibility) w/o remorse or other emotions to it coz i think it makes them realise their emotion doesnt absolve them

thanks to listening to me ramble!

man i feel that, im also obsessed with having the moral high ground, except i think my view of morality is the best one and everyone else is stupid. also i'm a hypocrite. i also hate hypocrites! yes this in of itself is hypocritical i am aware. do something morally reprehensible? shame on you! doesn't matter that i do the same thing with no intent to stop. its over anakin i have the moral high ground!! i have Standards and Morals and also i'm correct all the time. if i had the death note there would be no story and everything would be okay. i simply would not go mad with power and i'd only kill people who are deserving of it

also yeah i hate the empathy = morality thing i hate it so so so so much. i do think cognitive empathy is a useful tool and remorse can be useful as like, the emotions equivalent of getting spritzed with a water bottle and also you are a cat. do something shitty? feel remorse? my cuck ass is NEVER doing that again!! because remorse felt so bad the first time, why would i risk doing it Again and feeling remorse Again? its just not worth it. but then again if you get more and more used to its presence it wouldnt work all that great and also would suck balls

and i've known a dude w bpd who was like that, and ive known people with good ol fashioned Anxiety Disorder that were like that- worse, even! they thought that bc they had anxiety, they were these cutesy little waifs and anything they did could be rebutted with "but i have anxietttyyyyyy" and everyone was just expected to pity them because of it- no matter what they did! people put too high of an emphasis on emotion as the standard of morality- if you're a scared abuse victim, thats Moral and you are Pitiable, which is Good. however if you fought back, you are Immoral and you are Secretly Probably The Aggressor, which is Bad. (consequently, if you're too scared, that's Moral, however you Didn't Fight Back, which means you were acting Illogically, and Had It Coming, therefore you are Bad) which is hypocritical as fuck! ive taken responsibility w/o remorse and i've takne responsibility with remorse and remorse is Not the important part of this argument, it's emotional intelligence.

[ljsstories]

Chapter Twenty Four: Jumping To Conclusions

Since that photo of Chloe kissing Jensen on the cheek had leaked, he was avoiding her like the plague. He would only see her to film scenes and then he was off in the other direction not even making eye contact with her to hide in his trailer. Landon had noticed how on edge he was, he tried to offer him some friendly advice, but Jensen wasn't in the mood to listen. It had come to light that it was the studio who leaked the photo trying to get some publicity for the movie. Jensen almost quit over it and Landon was starting to lose his laid-back disposition. "Does it really matter brother?" He'd asked Jensen one morning in his trailer, "I mean the people closest to you know the truth..." Not all the people closest to him, Jane didn't know that it was all bullshit!

"It matters to me! I don't want to lead that girl on! She's already following me around like a lost little puppy! This is just a step too far!" Landon sighed and ran a hand through his usually perfect long, brown hair which looked rather windswept despite there being no wind at all. He looked stressed, which for Landon Ellis, was not a good look.

"Dude I am trying here, okay? This is the biz! You and I both know all the dirty tricks the studios and the managers and the agents pull to make us relevant! Why is this such a surprise to you now? After all these years?" Jensen could see the dark circles under Landon's eyes, he always looked at least ten years younger than his age, but on this day, it wasn't a stretch to believe that the guy was pushing fifty.

"I don't know! Maybe I'm just tired of it all, you know?" Landon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"Brother, we're all tired! Believe me!" Apart from Jensen's little wobble, everything was going great with the movie, so why was Landon so stressed out? Maybe it was because his entire life was going to be laid bare in front of billions of people. Jensen knew that he was overreacting, that there were far more important things to be worrying about, but he couldn't help it. Jonah had taken a strop and refused to pass on any more messages to Jane, he'd told him to do his own dirty work, whatever that meant. He had no way of communicating with her indirectly anymore and it pissed him off, Doctor Jenna had told him not to stalk her, he was trying so hard not to, but sometimes he would lurk around her social media accounts to get the tiniest fix. He'd stopped liking any of her posts, he was a silent supporter now, he was taking what he'd learned in rehab seriously and giving Jane space...and it was killing him! Thank God he had this movie to take his mind off of things a little, but now with the whole Chloe thing, there was nothing he wanted more than to message Jane and tell her not to believe the press, he was still completely and utterly hers! "Jensen please just play the game. I know it's all a fucking joke, I've been there, but will you just suck it up...for me?" Jensen looked Landon in the eyes, his pleading blue eyes, the whites almost pink. He felt bad for being the cause of Landon Ellis' anxiety, but he just couldn't play this game anymore, not after everything he'd been through.

"How can you even ask me that when you've lived my life?" Landon's blue eyes widened in surprise, obviously he wasn't expecting Jensen to resist, "You've said to me many times that you wished that there was someone like you when you were younger to guide you through things, to help you navigate the murky waters of fame!" He could see Landon half nodding, looking confused as to where this conversation was going, but still agreeing with what Jensen had to say, "So why are you asking me to repeat your car crash of a life? You lost your Jane over this kind of shit! Why are you asking me to risk losing mine? I might not find another like you did, you just got lucky!" Landon sat back on the seat and stared straight ahead, as if he was having a good think about what Jensen had just said. He scratched his beard softly, still looking like he was deep in thought, blinked several times then turned to look at Jensen.

"I'm sorry!" He looked sad, Jensen didn't like seeing that emotion on the face of his mentor, "You're right, I..." Landon shrugged and squeezed his eyes shut, with a huge sigh he said, "...you shouldn't have to deal with this, and you won't from now on! I'll fix it, I promise! I've let you down!" Shaking his head and looking down at the ground, this was the first time Jensen had ever seen Landon in doubt, he was always so confident but right now he just looked so damn exhausted.

"You have never let me down Landon! Don't ever think that! I understand how much pressure you're under to get this movie made. I understand the ass kissing that must be done when you want your work to be taken seriously, I get it I do!"

"That's no excuse, I should have stood up for you when they told us about the leak, I should have told them to shoot the whole thing down!" Jensen felt guilty for pushing back, it had really given Landon a moral dilemma, "I will do better for you than I did for myself! I promise you! The number of women I was supposed to have dated and never did is ridiculous! Debunking this rumour about you could be a little fuck you to the sons of bitches that did the same thing to me back in the day!" He patted Jensen's shoulder and smiled sadly, "I will do right by you!" And he did, when asked about the romance rumours about his two leads Landon told everyone that it was completely untrue, and that Jensen and Chloe were just friends. Chloe on the other hand was milking it for everything she could get, giving the media coy smiles and winks while neither confirming nor denying it that she was dating Jensen Reed. All the while Jensen was terrified that Jane would see all of the crap that the tabloids were saying about him and believe it. He decided to sit Chloe down and explain his situation with Jane, how she was the one he was devoted to and that by feeding the press with her cryptic behaviour Chloe was damaging his relationship with her.

"You're talking about that girl who did the food for Dexter Maloney's latest exhibition and does those cute little YouTube videos?"

"Chloe I am pleading with you to just tell anyone who asks that we're just friends! Tell the truth!" Chloe's eyes were wide as she looked at him, he'd gathered the courage to knock on her trailer door and go inside to discuss this whole nightmare, but she still wasn't taking it seriously.

"Okay, well if you wanna talk about the truth to me then let's do that because that girl you're talking about is totally dating Corey Tyler from that Australian soap opera, Love And The Waves or whatever it's called!" Jensen let out an unexpected laugh, "No, seriously! He's landed the part of Jonathan Harker in that new Dracula reboot for HBO! He's big news right now and he's also been romancing your girl so..." Chloe looked to the side and tugged a strand of her blonde hair, "...I know you're full of shit Jensen Reed! You just don't wanna be with me so don't you come in here and talk to me about telling the truth!" She stomped her foot for effect and huffed, still refusing to look in his direction. "So, I will say whatever the fuck I like about us, because that's how it's done in this business! I'm too good for you anyway, you'll never know what you're missing!" Jensen didn't realise that his mouth was gaping wide open until he closed it and his tongue was like sandpaper, leaving Chloe's trailer in disbelief. There was no way that Jane was seeing anyone, not so soon after her mother's passing! Even if she was, it would never be that beach bum Corey Tyler! He was so not her type, no way!

***

It was all over the internet, Jensen Reed and Chloe Cornell were the newest big thing in Hollywood. The photo of the kiss was everywhere, and Jane couldn't escape it, Eliza said it was all a load of lies and tried to get Jonah to confirm it, but he wasn't speaking to Jensen again, so he didn't know if it was or not. He doubted it was true but that was all he could give the girls without actually speaking to Jensen, which he wasn't going to do because he hated him right now. The Reed brothers really were a pair of children sometimes, Jane despaired of their behaviour. She was surprised to feel both hurt and relieved over Jensen's romance rumours, deep down all she wanted was for him to be happy and she hoped that this Chloe Cornell made him feel that way. He deserved it after everything. "I just don't believe it!" Eliza had mumbled, sitting on the couch ramming forkfuls of stir fry into her mouth, "He didn't get over you just like that, I call bullshit to the whole thing!" Eliza talked and chewed at the same time, a right little multi-tasker.

"Well maybe she just...took his breath away or something. I don't know how pretending to be someone's boyfriend on a daily basis affects your real life. He could just have fallen for her!" Jane shrugged, trying to conceal the true hurt she was feeling over Jensen's new love.

"Bollocks!" Eliza declared, gulping down her food and giving her big sister a scowl, "It's all publicity for Landon's big film! You'll see!" And she did, a few days later Landon Ellis himself was quizzed about the blooming relationship between his two lead actors and he laughed and said they were just friends. Landon Ellis had a tell when he was lying, he would blink up to five times before answering with a pearly white grin, during this particular interview he didn't blink once. Maybe it was all just a bunch of crap made up to promote the film, maybe Jensen and Chloe were just friends after all! Whatever the truth was, Jensen certainly wasn't going to tell Jane personally, he'd stopped all contact with her. She never heard from him these days, not even through Juliet or Jonah. Juliet was too busy chewing her ear off about how big her bump was getting and sending her photos to prove she wasn't lying. She was really excited to become a mother but still trying to find a way to tell the father she didn't want to marry him. Jane enjoyed hearing from her, they had a mutual crush on Dexter Maloney and when Jane told her all about the exhibition Juliet told her she was jealous.

"Why did he have it in London though?" She had enquired, now that Jane had the answer, she was happy to share.

"Well, apparently his ex-girlfriend Katie Reese lives in London, she dumped him in high school, and he never got over it so as a bit of a fuck you he held it there. She's still with the former band mate she dumped him for and she's miserable!"

"Oh! Oh! Jeremy Price!" Juliet gasped, "Yes, he left the band when they were basically nobodies and called Deadly Nightshade and he took the name with him! He's such a dick, Jensy got into a full-on fist fight with him one time at Coachella!" Jane tried not to giggle at the thought of skinny Jensen Reed in a punch up, "Yeah! Real asshole! Well good for Dex, he's so dreamy! Every time I see him my ovaries explode!" Jane understood completely, standing face to face with him was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her, and she'd kidnapped an A-lister!

"How is Jensen getting on with his film?" Jane slotted it in there casually, hoping that Juliet wouldn't realise that she was fishing for any kind of details.

"He's pretty busy, we hardly hear from him and he's still living with loopy Landon and his family. He visits mom a couple of times a week but that's about it. Jonah's working on the album by himself, doing Jensen's job bossing the others around but because he's the second youngest in the band, TJ and Kris don't take him seriously and kind of give him a hard time!" She could hear Juliet's sad sigh on the other end, "Jonah had a huge row with Jensen over it and now they're not talking, ugh, boys!" She groaned in exasperation.

"That's all you need; you don't need the stress for your little one!"

"Ain't that the truth! Honestly, it's like my two little brothers never left pre-school the way they behave! They're such children!" Exactly what Jane was thinking, it was so nice to bond with someone who thought the same way she did. "It's all pure fiction you know!" She added quietly, Jane didn't know what she meant, "The rumours about Jensy and that car crash Chloe Cornell? Pure and utter fiction! There's no way he's dating her!" But she didn't know that for sure, she was just speculating, who knew what Jensen was capable of now, he was a changed man after his time in rehab.

"I just want him to be happy, that's all I've ever wanted for him!" Jane tried not to show how much it affected her, "He deserves some happiness, you all do!"

"So do you girl, after everything you've been through these past few months? You so deserved meeting Dexter Maloney!" Juliet laughed softly and sighed, "But seriously, I will eat my placenta if my brother is dating that girl! That's how confident I am that he's not!" Jane wished she could believe it, but Chloe Cornell was just too pretty, how could Jensen resist her?

A few days later Eliza received a surprise visitor, Jonah turned up on the doorstep on one knee with his eyes screwed firmly shut and one hand over his heart like he was pledging allegiance to an invisible flag. As Jane opened the door to this sight, he began spouting a whole speech, "Eliza Emily Thomson, I love you; I miss you; I want to be with you every moment of every day! I'm here to ask you to take me back, just...please take me back and you will not regret it I promise!" He gingerly opened one eye when his speech was met with silence, looking up at the sister of his beloved instead of Eliza, his cheeks began to glow a pretty crimson colour and he scrambled to his feet. "Janey! H-hi! Is Eliza home?" Jane tried not to let out the laugh she was barely holding in and nodded as Jonah stood looking down at his shoes and playing with his hands.

"Yes, come in!" Eliza was in the garden with Daisy, lazily lying on a blanket on the grass in a crop top and very short denim cut-offs. "Liza, there's someone here to see you!" Jonah slid past Jane and out into the back garden with his hands in his jeans pockets, just like his brother, his cheeks still a shocking shade of red. Eliza looked up at the towering figure that had blocked her light and an odd noise escaped from her mouth, like someone was strangling her.

"What the fuck?" She whispered while attempting to stand as Jonah took her hands and helped her up like a gentleman.

"Hey baby-I-I mean, hello Eliza!" Eliza continued to stare at him, her feelings over his surprise visit unreadable under her sunglasses.

"Jonah, you're supposed to be working! Why are you here?" She spluttered as Jonah hung his head like a naughty schoolboy and then Eliza's feelings were laid bare as she ripped off her sunglasses, she was in shock...but also rather annoyed.

"I needed to see you, after our last conversation I...couldn't leave it like that! Not without talking to you face to face!" What conversation? What was happening? Why hadn't Eliza told Jane about this conversation? What was said???

"There was no need, I understand how busy you are! You don't need to justify..." And he was down on one knee again, "Whoa, Jonah get up, what the fuck is this about?"

"Eliza Emily Thomson..." He did the whole speech thing again, but this time it was confident and clear, and he did it all with his eyes wide open. Jane was strangely proud of him, "...I love you; I miss you; I want to be with you every moment of every day! I'm here to ask you to take me back, just...please take me back and you will not regret it I promise!" He was met with another silence, looking up at Eliza with such a hopeful expression, he was adorable. He reminded Jane of his brother, how alike they were in that moment, it made her envious of her sister.

"Jonah, it's just not going to happen! I'm sorry!" Jonah looked down at the ground again, one hand across his heart like it was at the front door.

"But...why?" He looked back up at Eliza with such sadness, "Don't you love me? Has our time together meant so little to you?" Poor Jonah, Jane could see that his heart was breaking.

"Of course I love you! That's not the issue!" Eliza looked frustrated and sad, this had just been sprung on her and she didn't know how to let him down without hurting him.

"Then what else matters? We love each other! If it's the distance..."

"No, it's not that!" She waved his words away with her hand.

"Then what?" He was still on one knee, looking up at her, his eyes begging her for a reasonable answer as to why they couldn't be together, because he didn't have one, it was so clear and simple for him...love trumped everything!

"I do love you Jonah, I want to be with you but..." She got down on both of her knees and clasped his hands in her own as he gazed into her eyes with hope and confusion, "...I'm twenty-two years old! I have my whole life ahead of me, after mum..." She trailed off and looked over at Jane, who nodded her approval of whatever she was about to say, "...I now know how precious life is! How every moment is a moment to be grateful for! I have dreams Jonah; I want a career and I want to travel and...I want to spend time with my sister after years of treating her like a complete stranger!"

"Yeah, and I won't get in the way of that, I'll never stop you from living your life baby! Just as long as I'm in it, I wanna marry you! I wanna have kids with you!" Eliza's face was mixed with horror, what twenty-two-year-old girl's face wouldn't be with talk of marriage and babies? "But I will never stop you from shining, I'll never stop you from pursuing your dreams! I'll support you; I'll help you; I-I-I'll do anything!" Eliza shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Jonah, please don't do this! Please don't make me feel any worse than I already do! I'm too young for marriage and babies, I don't even know who I am, I need time! I need time to grow and to learn and find out who Eliza Thomson really is! I've got so many plans, but..." Both Jonah and Eliza were sniffing back tears, Jane didn't know what to do so she remained in the doorway looking on helplessly, "...they don't involve you, at least not right now, I just want us to be friends. Please say you understand! Please don't hate me!" Jonah smiled sadly and placed a hand on her face, then he kissed her gently on the lips.

"I understand, I don't like it, but I understand! God, I love you so much!" Jane left them alone then, as they hugged and cried in each other's arms. She was proud of her sister, albeit sad for her and for Jonah, but if they truly were meant to be together, then he would wait for her to find herself. It would all work out in the end. All Jane wanted to do at that moment was to talk to Jensen about all of this, get his take on it, but he wasn't interested in talking to her anymore...he had the beautiful Chloe with her tanned, endless legs. Why would he care if Jonah and Eliza weren't together? His career and his love life were doing great, Jane was now but a distant memory!

***

Jensen had scoured every social media platform Jane was on for evidence that she was dating that annoying Corey Tyler, he found none. Chloe was just trying to piss him off, well it worked, and he'd been giving her the cold shoulder ever since. Landon's stress levels were at a healthy low as he did what he promised, he did right by Jensen and sat Chloe down to have a few words. She'd supposedly burst into tears and declared her love for Jensen, much to Landon's dismay, it had gotten too much for him and he drafted in his wife Sarah to deal with the crying. Landon also insisted that Jensen take Chloe out for dinner and that they have a proper talk about the whole thing, be honest with each other and let their feelings out in the open. He didn't want to do it, but he also didn't want Landon having a breakdown, so he chose the former thing he didn't want and took Chloe to dinner. "Look I know that you have this weird infatuation going on with that Jane girl but..." Chloe sighed, swiping a stray hair from her huge eyelashes with her pinkie, "...Jensen she's with someone! You lied! Landon told me all about your thing with her and quite frankly..." She fiddled with the cutlery in front of her and let out a deep sigh, "...I'm here, right in front of you! You never know, you might like me by the end of this dinner!" He very much doubted it, she was far too grabby for his liking. She was always squeezing parts of him that were not for squeezing or she was rubbing up against him, yes that was still a thing.

"I agreed to this so we could clear the air, this is not a date Chloe!" She pouted at him, his exasperated tone didn't go unnoticed, "I didn't lie about Jane, she is in my heart! As for you inferring that she's involved with that beach dick Corey Tyler, I see no evidence whatsoever that they're a thing, and anyway..." Jensen scoffed, "...where would she even meet him in the first place?" Chloe was scrolling through her phone with a smirk on her face, was she even listening? A waiter whizzed past them as she brushed his arm, not looking up from her scrolling.

"Hey, sweetie will you bring us some champagne please?" Jensen slammed his fist on the table and yelled at her.

"Damn it Chloe, don't you listen? I'm a fucking alcoholic!" A few other diners turned to look in their direction, a couple of producers and actors that Jensen knew from awards shows and after parties. It wasn't a secret, so he didn't care who heard, however this whole dinner thing was not helping his case for denying there was anything going on between them. Chloe was unmoved by his angry outburst as she shoved her phone in his face.

"There! See? You wanted evidence! There it is!" Jensen looked at the photo Chloe was trying to show him, it was of Jane with a male figure. Corey Tyler was towering over her holding her arms and looking down into her eyes. Jane's expression was hard to read, but they were definitely standing together, that asshole was even touching her, touching his Jane!

"Where is this?" Jensen mumbled, "Is it a photoshop?" Chloe let out a sarcastic chuckle and shook her head.

"Oh Jensen, they met at Dexter Maloney's gallery exhibit in London! Look, it's not doctored in any way, if it was, they'd slim her down a bit don't you think?" Chloe's smirk made his blood boil as Jensen scraped back his chair and stood up.

"Okay I've had enough of your shit Chloe!" He bent down and placed his clenched fists on the table, his face level with hers and added, "Don't you EVER talk about her in that way! DO YOU UNDERSTAND???" Chloe recoiled in horror as Jensen screamed in her face. The restaurant fell deathly silent as he straightened up and surveyed the room. "What? What the fuck are you looking at, huh?"

"Jensen you're embarrassing me!" Chloe mumbled, her eyes damp as she blinked several times and scanned the tables full of their peers.

"Like I give a rat's ass! Fuck you Chloe!" He pointed his index finger at her and narrowed his eyes, "You stay away from me, understand?" Standing outside in the fresh air, he looked up at the sky and wanted to hit something. He wasn't sure what he was so angry about, Chloe's comments about Jane or the fact that Jane actually knew Corey Tyler, that Corey Tyler had his hands on her and she was looking up at him. She wasn't dating him, it was impossible, he wasn't her type, and she was so much better than that...so much better than Corey and Jensen combined! She deserved better; she deserved the whole world! There was no way that douche could give her everything, no way in hell! He had his fucking hands on her! Ian drew up next to him in the alley where he was hiding and rolled the passenger window down.

"Ready to go boss?"

"Yeah, more than ready!" He replied quietly and jumped into the car.

The following day, sitting next to Landon and a couple of producers for the movie, Jensen realised that his outburst the night before had made ripples and not good ones. "So, Jensen my friend..." Landon began, unable to look him in the eyes, "...you need to reel it in somewhat..." He looked so uncomfortable as the producers sat at either side of him, watching him and studying his every word, "...you need to apologise to Chloe brother, you really do!" He seemed relieved to get that whole sentence out as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands down his thighs. Jensen hung his head and thought this through.

"Well, the thing is that she owes me an apology too! I feel violated if I'm honest!" The two producers stared at him with wide eyes as a small smile formed on Landon's face, "She's been sexually harassing me since we started and...well what am I to do about that?" A small giggle emitted from Landon as he covered his mouth and looked down at his lap. Producer one then spoke.

"Jensen, this is a serious accusation!"

"I know!" Jensen replied breathily, throwing his hands up in the air for dramatic effect, "But you know, inappropriate touching aside, she tried to get me drunk last night and that's why I lost it! You know how hard I've worked to control my addiction!" Jensen laid it on thick as Landon's giggle erupted into a fully blown raucous laugh as the producers looked to one another with concerned expressions. It was well known that Jensen Reed had alcohol issues, Chloe was well aware of that fact, if this didn't get her to back off...then nothing would.

"Jensen, what can we do to, um, persuade you to overlook this?" Jensen looked at Landon who had completely lost it and smiled.

"I suppose I could forget about it if the studio is prepared to quit pushing the whole co-star romance thing, maybe!" He shrugged as Landon shook his head with a huge grin.

"You sneaky little fucker!" He whispered as the two producers agreed to Jensen's terms. After they'd left, Landon placed a hand on his shoulder, "You know I really had no idea where you were going with the sexual harassment thing at one point, I was fucking shitting my pants! I thought my movie was fucked!"

"I wouldn't do that to you Landon! I like Chloe, I acknowledge that she has issues and she's young...but I can't have people thinking she's my girlfriend! I'm sorry, that's a step too far and you knew that!" Landon nodded in agreement and patted him on the back, "She needs to know that too!" Then Landon's smile faded when Jensen uttered his final words, "Or I'm out!"

The real reason for Jensen's resentment towards Chloe Cornell was not her insistent touching, it wasn't the fact that she threw petrol on the raging fire of their romance rumour, it wasn't because she'd ordered champagne and ignored the fact that he was an alcoholic, it wasn't even that she'd insulted Jane's appearance. It was because she had made the Corey Tyler thing real, she'd shown him tangible evidence that he couldn't ignore, that he couldn't unsee! That was why he hated her, that was why he'd screamed at her, that was why he could no longer allow people to think he was involved with her in any way, shape, or form! That was her crime, she made Jane's involvement with Corey real! From that moment on, Jensen felt pain, he had no idea where the pain was coming from, but he hurt all the time. He could barely concentrate on anything; he flubbed his lines and he found it difficult to be around his co-star. Landon's impressively long hair was falling out over the tension between his two leads and Jensen couldn't do anything about it, he hurt so much! Landon found him in his trailer, staring at an unopened bottle of Jack, and he was understandably angry. "Jensen? What the fuck man?" He grabbed the bottle and threw himself down beside him, "Don't you dare do this!" Jensen had never seen him so emotional, it snapped him back into reality.

"I just like to look at it from time to time!"

"Where did you get this!" Landon demanded, pointing at the heavy bottle in his hand.

"It's amazing what people will do for a rock star!" He chuckled and lay his head in his hands, "I wasn't gonna drink it I swear!"

"Said the alcoholic!" Landon muttered angrily, "You have to get your shit together little brother! Don't make me regret all of this! Don't make me regret putting my faith in you!" Jensen could feel him studying his face, "What's with you? It's not the Chloe thing, I know that much! In fact, you took that whole situation way too seriously kid! I can't help you if you don't tell me!" Jensen spilled everything to Landon, the Corey Tyler rumour that Chloe had made real during their dinner. He listened carefully and he didn't judge, but he was still very angry with him. "You can't turn to the bottle my friend! You just can't!"

"I know, I fucking know!" Jensen cried; he was just so tired of it all.

"I think you should call Doctor Jenna! Before there's no going back!" He was right, it was time for some intervention!

Doctor Jenna Riley arrived on the movie set the following day, accompanied to Jensen's trailer by Landon himself, opening the door to her smiling face gave him a sense of hope as she cocked her head to the side and greeted him, "Hello Jensen, long time no see!"

***

Jane had saved some money from the gallery gig, and she was going to buy some craft supplies with it. That was until she saw her sister glued to her laptop watching YouTube videos of special effects make-up tutorials. Eliza had expressed her interest in working in the film industry as a make-up artist, there was an intensive course down in London that lasted two weeks and it was pricey. Eliza was so passionate about it that Jane secretly enrolled her and paid for it with her own money. It was her twenty third birthday in a week and this would make the ideal present, since their dad was at a loss as to what to buy his youngest daughter, Jane was going to give this to Eliza from both of them. She was so excited to see her face when she found out she was going, Jane was bad with surprises and she wanted to tell her straight away, it was a struggle, but she was going to wait. Eliza and Jonah had agreed to remain friends and keep the option of them rekindling their romance open. She wasn't saying no to him forever, she was just putting their love on hold, which Jane could understand, as Eliza had said, she was still very young. Jane was having her own man troubles in the shape of irritating tanned beanpole Corey Tyler who had started following every social media account she had, and he bombarded her with messages constantly, then there were the messages from a handful of newspapers asking her about her relationship with Corey. She ignored and blocked them all, there was no relationship, how did they even find out that he was bugging her? At least they didn't know where she lived, neither did Corey Tyler, which was a relief. No turning up on her doorstep like the Reed brothers, just the odd parcel or flower arrangement now and again. She could handle that; besides he'd soon get bored and move onto the next poor girl he took a shine to.

It was Eliza who pointed out the offending photograph that had sparked the media's curiosity. It was a photo of her and Corey at Dexter Maloney's exhibition, she had to admit it did look questionable, with his hands on her arms looking down at her with his Labrador puppy eyes. Well as long as they were never seen together again, this would all fizzle out soon enough. There hadn't been much in the media about Jensen and his girlfriend, they seemed to be very private about their relationship during the final months of filming the story of Landon Ellis' life. They had been filming together for six months and the project was finally complete, Jonah had started talking to Jensen again and Juliet had given birth to a baby girl named Madelaine Stephanie Reed-Dean. Jane and Eliza had sent a gift that was shaped like a bouquet of pink and white flowers but was actually rolled up baby grows and socks. Still Jensen kept his distance, Jane heard nothing from him, and it stung, even though she knew he had someone else in his life, it hurt to think that their ten days together now meant nothing to him.

***

In actual fact, Jensen was dying to contact Jane, especially now since he was seeing Doctor Jenna Riley on a weekly basis. After his argument with Chloe and his almost fall from grace four months before, Jensen felt the need to keep his appointments with the good Doctor for purely preventative reasons. She was helping a great deal, but his biggest addiction was always going to be Jane, the pull to message her was so strong that it took everything he had not to. His baby niece was a nice distraction though, little Maddie, he was so in love! She was blonde like her daddy, but she had her momma's eyes. Jensen couldn't stay away from her, he wanted to cuddle her all the time. Jonah wasn't as enthusiastic as Jensen, but he loved his niece just as much. Juliet had babysitters coming out of her ears with her mother and brothers, but when it came to Charlie, things weren't great. She called off the engagement a few days after Maddie's birth and asked him if they could just be friends and co-parent. Jensen was relieved but also sorry that his sister would be a single mother. At least she had all of them to help her out, something that Jensen was doing when he wasn't in the studio with Jonah working on their latest album. Jensen changed diapers, he bathed Maddie and gave her bottles, he was loving the whole experience. Sweater Boy visited on a daily basis; he was still a hands-on dad even though the mother of his child didn't want to be with him. All in all, things were going great, Jensen would see Landon a few times a week too and have dinner with the Ellis family, another baby for him to play with in little Amelia. Landon's movie was in post-production, and he was getting stressed again, but Sarah knew how to keep him grounded, Jensen wished that he had a Sarah. He'd managed to stave off Chloe Cornell after a very rocky couple of months where neither of them spoke off set. They buried the hatchet though and were now good friends, even meeting up for the odd coffee or brunch which had the tabloids wetting themselves over the are they or aren't they question. Jensen didn't care, not even if Jane saw, she had Corey Tyler anyway, didn't she? That was another reason why he wasn't going to get in touch, he didn't want that whole shit show rammed down his throat! He didn't want to see her with someone else, it was too much for him, so he kept away. Life was pretty relaxed, making music and just chilling out, until one day Jensen received an unexpected phone call, "Hey Jensen!" His father Martin, "Please don't hang up, I-I need to talk to you! This is important!"

"What do you want?" He was going to hear him out, after his mother's revelations a while back, he owed him that much.

"I don't want to do this over the phone, I need to see you and your sister and brother. Will-will you meet with me? Son?" Son, yeah just drop that in there!

"When and where do you wanna meet?" They arranged a time and a place, but Jensen couldn't guarantee that Juliet and Jonah would agree to come, "Look I can't promise you that they'll be there, you understand that, right?"

"I do, but I'd really appreciate it if they could. Will you come, Jensen? Son?"

"I'll come, but it doesn't change anything between us, I'm just doing what's right, understand?"

"I do, I do! You're a good man Jensen, I'm so proud of you!" Proud of an addict who almost killed himself twice? Really?

Jensen didn't tell his siblings or his mother about the phone call from his dad. He went to meet him, at a park in downtown Los Angeles, by himself to get the lay of the land before involving anyone else. He didn't want Juliet or Jonah to be hurt again by their father. "Thanks for coming!" Martin nodded, sitting on a bench, he didn't get up. He looked frail, his hair was greyer than Jensen remembered, and he had a walking stick beside him.

"So, what is so important?"

"Did your brother and sister not want to see me?"

"I haven't told them you've been in touch; I didn't want them to get hurt again!" Martin nodded with a sad smile.

"Always the protector, aren't you son?" He looked up at him, he looked so tired and thin, "Will you sit down?" Jensen hadn't noticed that he was still standing, so he took a seat next to him, "That's better, you're so like your mother!"

"Yeah well, we all are, maybe that's the price you pay for abandoning us as children, your genes didn't get passed down to any of us!" Jensen looked straight ahead; he didn't want to look at his father.

"I left, that was my only crime! I tried to be in your life, but your mother told me that my children hated me and wanted nothing to do with me..."

"I know, mom told me everything, right before I ended up in rehab after almost dying!" Martin sighed loudly and put a hand on Jensen's shoulder.

"I wanted to visit you then too, but I was told you weren't allowed visitors! Well, non-family members they said, but I'm sure Steph had warned them not to let me in, as usual! She was bitter for a long time, she still is!" Martin shook his head, his breathing was laboured, Jensen was beginning to realise what he wanted to tell his children. "The reason I wanted to meet with you is because, well there's no easy way to say this but..."

"You're sick!" Jensen finished the sentence for him.

"I am, yes. A while back I was getting headaches and I was losing my balance, hence this infernal contraption." He pointed down at the walking stick Jensen had spotted when he arrived, "Turns out I have a brain tumour, stage four Glioblastoma. I'm dying son!" Jensen's legs felt weak as his breath caught in his throat.

"Is there nothing they can do?" He could barely form words, what was coming out was basic at best, he couldn't cope with larger sentences.

"It's too late, I've got months!" Jensen was feeling an overwhelming sense of deja-vu, this was what Mr Thomson had told his daughters when their mother was sick, this must have been how Jane felt! There was a long silence, then Martin broke it, "I saw that movie you did; you deserved that Oscar son, you were amazing!"

"I've won two!" Jensen mumbled.

"I know, I saw both those movies and I watched you collect both of those awards! I might not be around, but I'm always watching!"

"I'm sorry dad!" Hot tears stained Jensen's cold cheeks, still he could hardly say anything, this had come as more of a shock than he ever imagined. Why though? He hardly knew his father; he was practically a stranger!

"No need son, death is a part of life. I've made my peace with it, but I have so many unresolved feelings when it comes to my older children. Lucy and Ava know their father, you and Juliet and Jonah...well...I've got so many things to say and so little time!" That sad smile on his face, it was heart breaking, "I love all my children, always have and always will! I tried to fight to be in your lives, but I just grew tired of fighting, and I let you go, it's a mistake that will go with me to my grave which won't be long now!"

"I'll help you and Arlene and the girls, I have money, maybe there's some new treatment we can try?"

"You haven't changed a bit; you were always such a kind and caring little boy! You're just the same, only now you're a man!" Martin wiped his eye, was that a tear? "Is there a lucky lady in your life?" Now that was a question, one that would take too long to answer in this cold park.

"Oh, you know, eternal bachelor, that's me!" They both chuckled and continued to chat for a couple more minutes until Jensen insisted that his dad get home into the warm. They arranged to meet again, and Jensen promised to talk to Juliet and Jonah. As they said their goodbyes, Martin repeated what he'd said on the phone.

"I'm so proud of you, please always remember that!" Jensen headed back to the car, where Ian waited for him, his heart was heavy, and his mind was in overdrive. It was his responsibility to break this news to his siblings, and he was not looking forward to it!

⏮️Previous/Next⏭️

[notstilinski]

Crush Starters !

Taken from the 2022 Hulu movie, Crush! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit! Some light spoilers for the movie may be present!

“What a vague, bullshit prompt.”

“Sorry, my first instinct was to name other gay people we know.”

“I still share everything with him. Even a Spotify account.”

“Sad lesbian music is an integral part of my identity.”

“It’s too predictable to go for the most popular girl in school.”

“Well, little do they know, my raging anxiety would never let me deface school property.”

“Do you guys want to come over after school and take edibles and watch Shrek?”

“Ugh. Why would you sweat when you don’t have to?”

“Hell no. They tried to put a love spell on me at least six times. If I’m going to date a witch, they have to be a talented one.”

“Stop staring without consent, please. It’s horrifying.”

“(Name), I really like you. I do. Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t know you. I hate myself that I have to say that-“

“Like you call them daddy, and they call you their sweet little princess.”

“For (Name) there, just try to find the thing they suck at the least.”

“I regretted it the second it left my mouth.”

“No, my job as coach is to motivate through fear.”

“Today was great. I almost killed somebody with a javelin.”

“Okay. I’m going to need you to relax. You’re starting to scare me.”

“This is a sex-positive house, (Name). Shame does not live here.”

“Time to get you drunk. Like, if you don’t throw up by the end of the night, then I didn’t do my job.”

“Do I look whimsical enough for puns?”

“Disturbingly cute in a kind of kinky way?”

“Hmm. Okay. If this mentor-protege thing is going to work out, then you have to respect my caffeinated process.”

“I knew you were using a tough-love approach with me.”

“It’s okay, dude. I’m no stranger to dark dad humor.”

“But I don’t want to talk about my dad. I’m saving that for a future therapy session.”

“(Name), are you kidding me? We’re going to have a mother fucking stakeout.”

“Um, I don’t really have a type. It’s more of just a vibe.”

I care. I care. I was just trying to be nice and ask questions. So- Not that good at that, though.”

“Kinda weird that we co-parented but never kissed before, huh?”

“Wow. I guess the promiscuous gene skips a generation.”

“Did you know that squirrels remember every single person they’ve ever seen?”

“We’re playing Seven Minutes in the Hotel Bathroom. And it’s a tried tradition.”

“Oh, wow. Another random animal fact. So soon?”

“Damn. We are bad at the small talk thing.”

“The stupid vending machine won’t give me my food.”

“Why don’t you want to kiss me? Why does nobody want to kiss me?”

“This is the stuff that dreams are made of but, also, nightmares if you are not in the top three.”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just a kiss, right?”

“Every time I try to make new friends or do my own thing, people always think of you first.”

“But everything I do is always overshadowed by you, (Name). I needed something that was mine.”

“How am I supposed to help you if you don’t tell me anything?”

"Having feelings is evil."

“When you get flustered, I get flustered 'cause I think it’s the stupidest, cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You don’t get to choose who you fall for, believe me, I get it.”

“And, um, tell your mom I say… hi.”

“No, I feel like I’m playing Pictionary with an infant.”

“You look like a serial killer. Change your eyes.”

“Great. It’s a coup.”

“It really hasn’t been the easiest thing. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours, but you get the idea.”

“That’s the face I’ve been looking for, looking like a bunch of wenches.”

[expectingtofly]

Take a Load Off

2.5k

fluff, post-canon, human!cas, anxious dean, established dean/cas

(i saw this post by @emptymeg and couldn’t get it out of my head, so here’s a fic :)

also posted on ao3

“What’s in the box?” Dean asked, coming into the library to see Cas setting a large package on the map table with a huff. The table creaked under its weight. “Hey, name that movie.”

Cas cocked his head. “What movie?”

Dean groaned. “Seriously, dude, you’re hopeless. What’s in the box! Brad Pitt?” Cas shrugged and Dean sighed. “Forget it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Cas said, fetching scissors from a drawer, “This box is for you. I bought you something.”

“Oh?” Dean came to the table, interest even more piqued. “What kind of something?”

Cas gave him a look. “Not what you’re thinking.” He cut through the tape securing the box. “I read that this can relieve stress and help you sleep better.”

“I already know something that can do that.” He added a wink for good measure.

“So,” Cas continued, ignoring him, “I thought you should try it. You haven’t been getting enough sleep lately and I’m worried about your anxiety levels.”

“Wait a moment,” Dean protested. “What do you mean, my ‘anxiety levels’?” Cas opened the box and he leaned over to look at the contents. Folded, silky dark grey fabric. “What is that, a blanket?”

“A weighted blanket,” Cas corrected, heaving it out of the box. “Twenty pounds.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He plucked at the fabric. “This is supposed to help?"

“It’s proven by science.” He nodded at a chair by Dean. “Go, sit.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean sat down and Cas draped the blanket over him. “Fuck.” Dean lifted his arms up under the blanket, then dropped them. “This is actually heavy.”

“Do you feel relaxed?”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You don’t look it at all,” Cas deadpanned and Dean kicked at him. Cas pulled a brochure out of the box. “Soft cotton filled with poly pellets,” he read. “Alleviate anxiety and increase serotonin.” He studied Dean, eyes squinted. “You still look tense.”

“Sorry, Cas.” Dean shoved the blanket to the floor with a thump. “Think you got duped.”

“You’re not doing it right,” Cas grumbled, picking it up off the ground. “You have to give it a chance.”

“I just gave it a chance.” Standing, he brushed Cas’ hair off his forehead, gave him his best you love me smile. “Now, do you really wanna help me relax?”

Cas studied him for a long moment, then said, “Okay.” He carefully folded the blanket. “We’re keeping this, though. I still think it’ll work.”

Dean made a face behind his back and started to follow him out of the room, but the phone Sam had recently installed in the library for a hunter hotline started ringing. He groaned and Cas hesitated in the doorway.

“Do I have to?” Dean asked him.

“I suppose so,” Cas sighed and set the blanket down on a chair. Turns out the call was from a hunter out near Boise who needed help with a case. Of course, Sam was away visiting Eileen, so he and Cas got stuck spending the next two hours going over the case information, trying to figure out what the monster was. They finally settled on vetala, a whole pack of them, and after instructing the hunter on how to kill them, Dean hung up the phone.

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing at his eyes. “Who knows how big the pack is. Could be a whole dozen of the freaks.”

“Well, now she knows how to kill them,” Cas said. “And there’s other hunters in the area who can help.”

“Yeah...” Dean fiddled with his pen, tapping it on the open pages of his dad’s journal.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

Dean realized he was frowning. “Nothing.” Flexing his shoulders, he stretched out his back, stiff from poring over books. “Just, three people are already dead. I better be right that it’s a pack of vetala.”

Reaching over, Cas rubbed his back in small circles and Dean leaned back into his hand. “We did all we could, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t so sure that was true. But, short of driving all night out to Boise, he supposed there wasn’t much else they could do. Still, he didn’t like the idea that he might’ve missed a clue, might’ve misled the hunter. He clicked his pen again and again, going over the case in his mind, worst case scenarios—

“Are you going to sleep now?” Cas asked, and Dean glanced at him.

“No.” Dropping the pen, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Don’t think I can now.”

“Would you say you’re feeling stressed? Anxious, perhaps?” Cas deliberately looked to his right and Dean followed his gaze to the weighted blanket folded on a chair.

“Dude, don’t even start.”

“You should use it,” Cas urged. “There’s no shame in feeling anxious, I often feel the same way too.”

“I’ve dealt with worse before, this is nothing new. Just comes with the job.”

Cas sighed. “You put too much on your shoulders.”

Dean shrugged. “Like I said, comes with the job.” If he wasn’t always on edge, he figured he was doing things wrong. Get too comfortable and bad things happened. Just the way it was.

“Still, you can admit you need a break.”

“Jeez, Cas, I’m wounded.” Dean pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Cas rolled his eyes and stood. “Don’t stay up too late.” He seemed to hesitate, fighting against saying more, and Dean said,

“I’m fine, Cas, really.”

“Okay.” Cas didn’t look too convinced, but he kissed Dean goodnight and headed off to their bedroom.

Dean cleaned up the mess of books and papers on the table, turned off the lamps just to do something with his hands. Normally, this is when he’d grab a drink, try to calm his head, but he’d been trying to cut back lately—blame Cas’ concern for his liver—so instead he decided to head to the Dean Cave. Maybe a few episodes of Dr. Sexy would distract himself enough to sleep.

Leaving the room, his eyes fell on the weighted blanket again. Cas and his ridiculous ideas. If Dean hadn’t been sleeping too well lately, that was just the result of living their kind of life. Nothing to do about it. Ignore the stress or end up drowning in it, that was his motto.

(And a horrible coping method, according to Sam and Cas)

Either way, lying under twenty pounds of “cotton and poly pellets” wasn’t going to help. Though the blanket had been really soft, he’d give it that.

He forgot all about it the following day, though, when Sam found a case a few towns over, and Dean and Cas drove over to meet him there. Disturbed gravesites, people disappearing near the cemetery at night. A ghoul, by all signs. A day of morgue visits and interviewing witnesses, then another two days of sitting parked in the cemetery, waiting for the ghoul to emerge again and feed. Dean was almost happy to see the thing when it crawled out of its grave. Almost.

Killing the damn thing hadn’t been too easy. But after inadvertently destroying a few gravestones, nearly falling into an open grave, and narrowly avoiding losing a few limbs, they finally bashed the ghoul’s brains in thoroughly, and split up from the cemetery. Dean went to speak to the latest victim’s mother while Cas and Sam got rid of the remains.

Returning to the bunker first, Dean showered, blood and ghoul remains washing away down the drain. But even the warm water couldn’t ease the jitteriness sitting high in his chest. The ghoul had been strong, fast, and Dean’s heart had leapt into his throat when it got a hold of Sam. Even Cas had struggled to stop the thing, gunshots only serving to anger the son of a bitch more.

Getting out of the shower, he scrubbed himself dry with his towel, inspected a cut along his arm. Not deep enough for stitches. If Sam had avoided a concussion, they were lucky. The ghoul was dead, at least. Left a dozen ruined graves and a few torn apart teenagers in its wake, but dead.

As he changed into clean clothes, he heard the bunker door open. “All good?” he asked, entering the war room to find Sam and Cas setting down their bags.

“If you mean will the trunk always reek like ghoul, then yes,” Sam said. He grimaced as he took off his boots, muddy footprints already leaving a trail down the bunker stairs. Then he glanced at his phone and smiled, said, “Eileen’s calling.”

“Whipped,” Dean mouthed at him as Sam answered his phone, smiling at the screen and walking off down the hallway. “Well,” he told Cas, ”you look like shit.”

Cas gave him his best, I can smite you even without my grace look. “Charming.” He headed off down the hallway towards their bedroom and Dean followed. “How did Mrs. Landis take the news?”

Dean sucked in a breath. “Uh, 'bout how you'd expect, I guess. Told her a bear had gotten to her son, but it was all taken care of now. Not much else to say.”

The mother had sobbed and thanked him. He’d done a piss poor job of comforting her and left with an all-too-familiar sick feeling in his stomach; they hadn’t done enough, they could never save everyone.

“And you?” Cas asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at Dean as he pushed open the door to their bedroom. “Are you alright?”

Dean started to nod, say fine, but he knew Cas would see straight through the lie. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he shrugged, dropping his hands into his lap. “Just shook up. Coulda been a bad one.”

Cas nodded as he pulled off his trenchcoat, the edges bloody and muddy. “We’re all safe. You don’t have to torture yourself thinking about what could’ve happened.”

Dean shut his eyes, took a deep breath. “I know.” Easier said than done.

He heard Cas’s footsteps, then felt Cas’ fingers on his cheek and tilted his head into his palm. Breathed in and out. Cas smelled like blood and guts and sweat, not a particularly pleasant combination, but his hand was warm and his other hand was carding through his hair and, shit, that felt nice.

“Go to sleep,” Cas said quietly. “You need rest.”

Dean nodded and Cas kissed the top of his head. He left to take a shower and Dean scrubbed his hands over his face.

Fuck, this hunt had been a close one. Closer than they’d had in a long time.

Dropping his hands, his eyes settled on the weighted blanket that Cas had left folded on the chair at the desk, a silent plea for him to use it. He rolled his eyes. Anxious, his ass.

He started to pull the covers back on the bed, but the thought of lying down with the hunt running on repeat through his head was less than appealing. Cas’ trenchcoat hung bloody on the wall, and Dean clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking, adrenaline and nerves still rushing through him.

Alright, maybe a little anxious.

With a glance at the door to convince himself Cas would be in the shower for a little while longer, he grabbed the blanket, brought it to their bed.

Getting under the covers, he draped the blanket over himself and lay down, shifting to get comfortable. Once settled, he stared up at the ceiling and waited for the miracle blanket to work its wonders. How much money had Cas spent on this shit? He really had to hide the credit cards.

He shifted again, the mattress creaking, and dropped back with a huff. Not that he didn’t appreciate Cas trying to help, but a twenty-pound blanket wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was a full night of sleep and a blow job and an all-expenses-paid trip to Cancún. His nose was itchy, his knee was bruised, his back was fucked up from getting thrown against a gravestone, Sam had already found another case in Albuquerque, and, fuck, he was just so damn tired.

Shutting his eyes, he forced himself to breathe through the sensation of his chest tightening. He could feel the blanket rise and fall with every deliberate breath, and he counted like Sam had taught him years ago when he’d woken with a panic attack—breathe in for seven seconds, hold for four, let out for eight.

Don’t think about what could’ve happened. We’re all safe. Cas is safe, Sam is safe. I’m safe.

His heartbeat slowly settled. The blanket’s weight was strangely comforting, warm, trapping him under the covers. Forced to stay still, he felt his limbs slowly relax into the mattress, the tenseness in his shoulders dissipating, his back easing and hands curling loosely along the sheets.

Okay. Shit. Maybe there was something to this weighted blanket thing. His mind grew hazier as his thoughts began to wander, and he found himself drifting off to sleep when the bedroom door creaked open and startled his eyes open.

“You’re using it,” Cas whispered excitedly, standing in the doorway. “Are you relaxed?”

“Fuck off,” Dean told him. He would’ve flipped him off, but that would require lifting his hand out from under the blanket and he was too—dammit, Cas was right—relaxed to move.

“I knew it would be perfect,” Cas said, sounding too triumphant. Shutting the door softly, he got into bed next to him—well, tried to. He shoved at the blanket encroaching on his side of the bed. “Dean, move over.”

“Nope.” Dean shut his eyes again. “Reap what you have sown.”

Grumbling, Cas turned off the light and got under the covers with more rustling and movement than necessary. Finally, he settled down. The bunker hummed, the heating running, the pipes in the walls creaking as a shower turned on down the hallway. The blanket heavy on top of him, Dean began to fall asleep again.

“Are you really gonna keep that on all night?” Cas asked, disturbing the quiet.

“Yup.”

Cas huffed and Dean could only keep up the ruse for a few more seconds before lifting the edge of the blanket. “Come on, get under.”

Sliding over, Cas got underneath, and they laid side by side, pressed against each other. Their fingers brushed, and Dean crooked a finger around Cas’ thumb.

“This is nice,” Cas commented, voice quiet. “I’m glad it’s helping.”

“Mhm.” He was starting to think he should’ve bought one of these things a long time ago. He hadn’t realized how strung out he was before until now, all the tension in his body slipping away.

Cas shifted onto his side and Dean blinked open his eyes to look at him. “I guess I was right all along, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t push it.” He caught Cas’ smile in the dark and elbowed him on principle before shifting over to kiss him. Then he tugged at Cas’ arm and turned onto his side, prompting Cas to press close against his back and wrap an arm around him.

He smiled, eyes falling shut at the warm press of the blanket and Cas’ body around his. Now he was relaxed.

tag list:

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007  @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @theangelwiththewormstache @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @celestialcastiel

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

[lazycheesecakeee]

Stray kids as love languages

Ok so I started thinking and that’s never good and somehow this got CHUNKY AF :))) But I hope you enjoy reading my messy thoughts about skz expressing love :)

Bang Chan

Giving: Gifts/Words of affirmation

Yeah SO… we all know how he always seems to always give the closest people to him, like everything, including the moon and a fucking rocket to the moon as well, and build it too, that before he gets anything at all? He is definitely a giver. He buys food, drinks, anything.

Anything you would accomplish, no matter how small would be an excuse for him to go out and buy you a meal and while you are there, if you only happen to glance at something twice, you already have it? Yeah you might feel bad and try to pay or say “stop giving me things all the time” but he would not stop and he would buy you the thing and shower you with praises for how well you did, even if you think it is not such a big deal.

You have a normal day when nothing happened? You go to the store together, he pays. He comes to visit you randomly. On the way he buys a flower and a random chocolate or a drink because he remembers somehow that you said you wanted to try it like 3 months ago. And the list never ends. He has a good sense for what people want too. So if you are close to him he gives you EVERYTHING. Showers of praises and all of his fucking money :)))) BOY HAS NO LIMITS.

Receiving: words of affirmation

Listennnn, as much as he gives and never stops, like NEVER. (Take his credit card away lmaoooo), when you acknowledge his little appreciations and thank him sweetly or give him a hug to let him know you are grateful, he gets immense satisfaction. I feel like he is the one to give but if he feels like he is used in the slightest he definetly cuts the rope short real FUCKING FAST.

I feel like he def is SUCH a sucker for appreciation and words of affirmation AND COMPLIMETS. He wants to feel needed and like his efforts are worth it. And giving him the verbal queue that his efforts don’t go unnoticed, that despite his busy schedule you appreciate the time with him, that his hard work and struggles to be the best are worth it, that the nights in the studio are fruitful and he is doing a good job, THAT would really make his entire day and his anxieties dissipate. Let him know he is wanted. Poor baby someone give him a sleep schedule too and some melatonin :)))))

Lee Know/Minho

Giving: Acts of service

He def strikes as one weird cranky, moody, annoying bitch with his behaviour but if you pay closer attention he is actually so observant and thoughtful/caring. He seems like you would not want to go to him for things but I actually think that if you take the time and grow close to him he is one of the most caring and protective people tbh.

Like it’s in his nature to pay attention to what close ones are doing, their schedules, interests and habits. He is the kind of person to never purposefully say or make a fuss out of doing something but somehow he knows you need something or you want something. And he buys the thing and puts it in the fridge. Or changes the sheets because he feels you are too sad and unmotivated and that would be good. Or buys something definitely because “he wanted it” but gets more, and a side of the thing you like a lot, because “it was there”, definitely not because he thought of you and that it would bring you joy. Or he would like pick a prescription for you or refill your water bottle before leaving or tell you to bring band-aids because you complained those shoes hurt you. Or tell me this boy would not chop the onions for the pasta sauce so you don’t ruin your mascara (I am not sobbing you are).  And he somehow fits himself in and things add up so well and your life is so much easier despite him claiming he „did nothing”.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

Although it doesn’t seem like it, something tells me it’s true. I read on an internet thing that people that seem cold and don’t want/seem to have the need for verbal affirmation and validation from strangers get actually more satisfaction from it than people who say it explicitly.

He also def strikes me like he was raised to be tough, to recover fast, to not be a cry baby and just get up and do the job, suck it up, be strong and independent. A little bit of trust issues into the mix as well ☹ You can actually kinda see a sort of anxious behaviour type of thing in him. So I feel like if you actually grow closer to him (ahem Jisung), acknowledging his efforts and how he makes your life easier, THAT would bring out the asshole being like “oh really? Hm interesting you think I do so much for you huh?” but he actually does thooo and you saying it would bring him like so much joy and make his heart happy.

Like each time you give him a compliment TM he would act like “yeah I know” or act disgusted but high key it soothes his spirit and ego when you say such things. He just loooves to hear how much you loved something he cooked or how attractive he was while dancing or how he was really thoughtful, and you appreciate it sm. He seems to have the nature to give, and he seems to expect to go unnoticed but when and if you do acknowledge his heart is actually swooning over it.

Changbin

Giving: Physical touch/Gifts

I think he would be the type to bring weird things to you for no reason along with 1000 kisses and a hug that is a bit too tight you know? Like his mind gets occupied with you if you are close.

And like he saw this weird card at the store or a little figurine or something which has a weird patters and he thought “Hm they must see this. They would like this strange ass thing I bought which was overpriced”. And when he gives you the thing you give like an odd smile and in your eyes is a „love you but wtf is this” and he would take your hands and look down and kiss them and say “I don’t know i thought you might like it?” And you would tease each other and he would start doing ayego and get really shy and just hug you again and place his head in your neck to avoid the eye contact, then lift you up and spin you and from there you have no chances of escaping the embrace TM.

Receiving: Physical touch

I feel like he would be a sucker for physical touch as your love language as well. If you reciprocate hugs, kisses and stuff. You know he seems like the kind to find comfort in holding you for no reason, like a hand on the knee or on your waist and if you two are comfy and give him little pets, stroke his hair, place your hand on his shoulder or biceps or take his hand with both yours or grab his middle randomly, he would swoon. Also you clinging to him and letting him cling to you I think is like thing he wishes for most tbh:) I feel like he feels safety and love by holding onto you and you onto him like he can protect you. He would like to know you trust him with that, ya know? Like he is a strong bitch ready to fight anyone coming at you and can protect you but is also your smol koala child which you can never escape.

Hyunjin

Giving: physical touch

Now this might seem weird to you BUT. He seems like he touches people out of nowhere sometimes and kinda clings. Not like all the time but enough. Like he likes being really close to you if he is close to you, you know?. He would be all up in your face with his weird ass mannerisms and humour but if they are reciprocated and he feels safe and good around you he naturally starts to cling if that makes sense? Like in a way a sort of telling others: “mine, you cannot have them before me” but also in the sense that you know he would do anything for you if you ask in those instances. Like YO, you have me, soul and body next to you, I am here :)))

Like he doesn’t seem like the type to buy things a lot (cheap ass I see you :)))) although he would sometimes) But he makes up by being there and encouraging you despite not knowing how to act or what to say all the time, he lets you know you can count on him and he is there. I feel like his touch expresses appreciation.

Receiving: words of affirmation/quality time

He strikes me as attention demanding lmao:)) OH I am yours pay attention to me I am your baby I require love and affection, undivided.

So if you make time to have lunch with him or have conversations before bed in peace (my dude seems like his thoughts overwhelm him all the time and honestly same :/ it’s kinda yikes tbh), or watch a movie/tv show, or just be in his presence when he is both excited or down, and listen to him rant and give him solutions or rant with him about random subjects and jumping around between them subjects, you would get all the uwus and he would probably be ready to dedicate his entire existence to your well being and desires.

He is just like that, a dramatic ass with overly changing emotions who wants a good connection, like a genuine one, where hours go by and someone truly understands him and things flow, ya know? (seems like the type to believe in fate type of love, which I find interesting)

Han Jisung

Giving: Physical touch/ Words of affirmation

He seems really touchyyyyy TM. But like in the way that shows physical affection because he seems a little insecure? That is kinda what he strikes me as. Like he wants to hold you. He wants to show you have him. He wants to be appreciated :( my child (and bias) help me I am sobbing:))) and he wants to make sure you know he appreciates you just as much.

Like he would hold your hand, hug you a lot or place random kisses and linger in those places? An he would compliment you and tell you your work is amazing and that he is proud and he would make lots of idiotic jokes to cheer you up, no matter the mood (we stan crackhead humour in this household) and he would tell you the most random shit he likes about you. Like “I like your socks” or “you changed your bag” or “the perfume is oddly floral just like your shirt and I like it”.

And he would make random short freestyle raps (kill me now I am in too deep) about you or a random thing you are doing. And he would just linger around you when you are busy and can’t give him attention. He wants to show trust and love through little gestures and trusts you to see them as a sign of his love because you make him happy and all.

Receiving: ALSO Physical touch/words of affirmation idk

I feel like he would like physical touch back? Like he would be fine if you didn’t like it, but like since he is like anxious and (to me) seems like a little overly aware of his “flaws and deficiencies”, he would like to know he has your “hold”. Like some sort of security type of thing.

Like small gestures, your hand on him, a little kiss, a hug, a squish :))), a little grip of reassurance and a nod of “you are doing good”. I think he would be a sucker for that. And also despite him lowkey rejecting your compliments like “yeah I know I am the best”, giving it to him would boost his self-esteem a lot, as I think he has many insecurities and quite a few complexes that are hard to express for him. So that, along with your touch and words to reassure him, he would love and get the idea that you want him close too, that he’s desired enough for you to seek his love, something like “you my dude are seen and loved for who you are”.

Felix

Giving: Giving gifts/Physical touch

He is defiantly a giver. He literally seems like he is so thoughtful and cares so much. Like we all know how his fellow members said he is great at gifts. Well duh. I feel like his gifts are not always big but like a small food or drink he brings because he knows you always love it, a flower he saw in the front of a flower shop he thought was pretty. Something you said you needed (or you didn’t say) but he knows you do need it because he just pays that much attention. A pendant necklace. A ring. A small ice-cream because the day is hot so why not. A donut that had flower sprinkles because you like to post aesthetic foods and so on. You name it. They would not be obnoxious, but it would sure show how much you are occupying his thoughts.

We also always know how he is attached to the hip to the people he is close to and he loves skinship. He said he loves back hugs, hugs, kisses he wants it all:)) So he gives plenty of cuddles for sure. You can never escape the octupus arms as you go to sleep each night, so might as well set up the air conditioning in your house as it’s about to get warm but affection and love above all, right? :)))))))

Receiving: Words of affirmation/Physical touch

I think he thrives if you return his little ministrations of affection. Does it matter? A hug, a kiss, holding him, a little massage, hand size comparison, throwing yourself on top of him on the couch or the bed at the end of the day. He LOVES it. You are also competing with Chan lol but no worries, he has plenty affections for all:))

Also I think he needs reassurance and a sense that people that are closest are proud of what he is doing(wipe your tears bitch). So I think acknowledging his hard work and the fact that he pulls through despite certain mental heath problems and telling him he does an amazing job and complementing his work would definitely mean a lot to him.

But give the boy your affection, A VerY tOucHy BoI. It makes his heart swell with joy knowing you pull him close and feel so much love for him that you don’t hold back from giving. Be an octopus with him tambien😊

Seungmin

Giving: Acts of service

Another one for acts of service. Our smol good boi which somehow does not seem smol at all because he exudes maturity and rationality lmao.

He would be such a servant if he loves you. AND YOU WOULD NOT EVEN NOTICE at first. Like I feel like he does stuff in a way similar to Minho where he makes sure your life is as easy as can be. Like puts your shoes out of the way, checks the weather so you don’t leave dressed inappropriately (forces you to take the puffier jacket despite it not going with your outfit, because “do you want to catch a cold, hm?”), gives you an umbrella. Fixes a random necklace which you broke by accident because he knows it will sit there for like 3 years if it’s in your care, and you like the necklace 😊. Makes sure you eat something healthy too(would definitely bring you washed and cut-up fruits after going out to eat at mcdonalds). And he for sure does not expect you to really notice, but if you do he is getting flustered and runs out the room with a big smile😊 what a baby tm.

Receiving: Acts pf service

I feel like he would appreciate most if you also took time out of your day to ease his life too. I feel like he would feel such relief and happiness and his heart would swell with affection and appreciation if you took on one of his (no matter how insignificant) tasks. Like he would be in a rush to leave and you woke up earlier before work to make him a coffee. Or when he comes home late you already put his clothes on the bed and prepared a bath. Or getting up and asking for extra napkins if he was not given any, or simply asking how can you make his day better. I feel like being helpful and listening and paying close attention to him would be what makes him happiest.

I.N./Jeongin:

Giving: Quality time/Gifts

He gets awkward when he tries to express feelings with words and is def not the most fond of skinship. However, I think if you were close he would be an amazing listener and sit with you and you could both share and grow together so much. He would give you the feeling he is ready to listen and be with you if you need him. 

That and also I feel like when you are out and about it makes him feel good to know he can buy you things you can enjoy, and you are appreciative of them and he has that power to brighten your day and be a mature adult by buying you things, despite not really needing them sometimes.

Receiving: Quality time/Words

You know how he struggled a bit with the dancing at first and you know how the other members say that he does nothing when someone criticizes him, he just goes out of his way to fix his “mistakes”? And also in Vlive when he said he doesn’t like to watch his own fancams because all he sees are his mistakes? My baby seems to have a bit (quite some) of an imposter syndrome and since he is young and everyone teases him, although with love, I feel like it gets a bit uncomfortable and tough. He seems he just wants to keep up, and be the best at what he does but it gets tough when you have to catch up with people who have been doing the thing for many more years than you and you are struggling with your feelings and figuring things out as you grow within a demanding contract. So I think someone to listen to his worries and give him undivided attention without judgement and put in their input without being intrusive would be the most amazing thing to him. That, along with compliments and acknowledgement of his efforts, telling him that he is doing GOOD and you are proud (although he might think that you are just saying it, since he seems to only see ways he needs to improve) would be good at raising his self esteem and encourage him to continue with his hard efforts.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #30 - The Cybertronian Judicial System is a Friggin’ Joke

Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of court case stories? I think they’re pretty boring, on average, so the last couple of issues have been slightly dragging for me.

Anyway, back to Megatron’s trial. 

Our issue opens up with a full back shot of Ultra Magnus.

Artists take note, he really is built like a capital T.

As Magnus reads out Megatron’s statement retracting his “guilty” plea, we get some decent points as to why. See, telling a guy that you’ll stab him in the brain, so his trial can be over as quickly as possible, maybe isn’t such a hot idea. Megatron wasn’t a huge fan of that, or of how those memories they would’ve yanked outta him would have been used to fuel the Autobot propaganda machine. Why, you may ask?

Well, I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Megatron… doesn’t particularly care for the Autobots, nor the rhetoric they uphold.

I know, I was surprised too!

There’s also the fact that Optimus Prime is the judge on this whole thing. You know. Optimus Prime. Off and on leader of the Autobots, whenever it suits him. The guy who fucked off into space for a year after the war. The guy who threw a hissy fit when someone pointed out that he was compromised the last time they did something like this with Megatron. This guy:

Yeah, there might be a slight conflict of interests here. Remind me again why this had to be a military trial?

Anyway, enough of that, it’s time for a fight scene.

A swarm of Decepticons storm the arena, going after Megatron so they can help him escape. Magnus, though acting as Megatron’s defense, cannot abide by this disorder in the court.

Wild to think there’s a tiny little Pringles man with anxiety in there, isn’t it?

Optimus joins the fray, because there really are, just, so many guys to deal with here. A dude goes to collect Megatron, stating that they brought teleport packs for this little shindig. Megatron isn’t super jazzed about that though, not bothering to grab on before the dude gets shot to death. There’s a brief recess, I guess so the janitorial staff can deal with the mess of corpses littering the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Rung’s building a model spaceship in Swerve’s, which is a very brave thing to be doing, seeing how sticky and gross bars can be. Brainstorm’s brought a flask to the bar, and proceeds to pour the contents into a funnel sticking out of his arm.

Our bartender for the evening- I’m assuming it’s evening, but I doubt the concept of time has any real weight in space- is Bluestreak. Bluestreak was stationed on Earth for a while, which is some Phase One stuff, and took a liking to human media while he was there. He’s the guy who handles movie night these days, seeing as Rewind’s too busy being dead to do it, and I doubt Chromedome has the emotional bandwidth to take over for his late spouse.

Bluestreak’s favorite movie is Zulu, a film glorifying the colonialism of the English over the native populace of an African kingdom. Make of that what you will.

Whirl wants to watch À Bout de Soufflé, or Breathless, as it was translated for the English-speaking world, which is a French New Wave film about a criminal who shoots a cop, hides from the police in a journalist’s home, who he seduces and likely impregnates. She eventually finds out what he did, reports him to the police, but then has a change of heart and lets him know what she’s done. He runs, but is shot, and dies in the street. The film is notable for its final scene, in which the following dialogue happens, between the dying criminal Michael, his lover Patricia, and an officer.

Of course, any poignancy would almost certainly be lost on the average comic book reader, and is also somewhat nullified by Whirl praising the film with internet lingo.

Then again, I suppose Whirl would be the type to dismantle any deeper reading of his interest in such a film, lest he be subjected to the horrifying ordeal of being known.

Over with Skids and Riptide, it’s revealed that Megatron’s been teaching classes on the Lost Light, specifically on the Knights of Cybertron. Riptide’s getting an education, because he’s been feeling pretty lost since the war ended- we’ll get to the potential whys of that later on. Swerve isn’t a fan of this community college thing that’s going on, stating that Megatron’s using it as a distraction, so he can devise plots most foul.

Back in the past, Autobot high command is having a talk about what Megatron’s demanding, and man is it a doozy— turns out, since the trial’s happening on Luna 2, the trial proceedings are subject to the laws of the moon. One of these moon laws is the right to request being judged by the Knights of Cybertron. Now, this is a problem, seeing as the Knights of Cybertron have been AWOL for the last several million years, but the law is the law, and you can’t just go ignoring it when someone’s pointed it out.

Bro, your SIC just suggested y’all pull the trial so you could slap it on Cybertron, thus negating any need to pay attention to the Knight law. That’s such a gross miscarrying of justice, it’s genuinely baffling. You’ve got bigger issues going on than flouting. My god, Optimus, you were a cop—

Oh wait, that’s right. Carry on, then.

Back on the Lost Light, First Aid’s checking to make sure that the coffin Rodimus they revealed last issue is true and proper dead. Now, this may seem like a given, but you’ve got to remember that Brainstorm was mostly dead for over a year and a half, and nobody fucking noticed, so it’s probably for the best that they’re checking.

First Aid’s been pretty withdrawn since Ambulon died, so this autopsy is really good for him, since it got him out of his room. Pretty fucked up that it would take a dead body to get him out and about. Has Rung checked in on his poor son of a gun, or has he been spending the last six months getting his professional rocks off psychoanalyzing a genocidal warlord?

Our coffin Rodimus died from having parts of his brain removed, and potentially died screaming.

Yes, that is a Furmanism, thank you peanut gallery, moving on—

Ratchet hands the phone over to Ultra Magnus, saying that a call has to be made, and it can’t be by him, because the callee is mighty upset with Ratchet at the moment.

Oh, I guess he’s fine after all. This must be where the sci-fi bullshit really starts kicking in for the series.

Because seeing your own dead body is likely very traumatic and awful, Rodimus is taking a while to string together his thoughts on the matter. Megatron doesn’t particularly care, because he’s not terribly sympathetic to this sort of thing, and the two get into a spat, where it’s revealed that they’re co-captaining the Lost Light.

Because things weren’t chaotic enough on this fucking ship. Need to mix in some peacocking between the McDonalds twunk and the man who killed half of Beijing.

Back in the past, Optimus Prime visited Megatron in prison to have a little chat. It’s not about that little rescue attempt, though the fact that those Decepticons may have been released from the Lost Light’s brig is certainly interesting. No, Optimus is here to sit way too close to his mortal nemesis on the floor of his room and talk about how Megatron is a sneaky bastard.

You remember the Hellraiser puzzle box from a couple issues back? Yeah, that was a communicube, one that was passed to Optimus to suggest that the trial be held on the moon, so the arena there would be able to hold all the people wronged by Megatron. This seems pretty damn convenient in hindsight, but Megatron swears that the legal loophole wasn’t his only intent when he sent the cube.

Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Megatron? It’s all about how you’re perceived by future generations. Fuck the guys who had to actually deal with what your personal choices caused to happen.

Megatron wants to make amends with all those who were wronged by him. This doesn’t include being acquitted of his crimes, which, y’know, good- at least he’s being slightly realistic about how this is going to turn out for him.

What he wants to do is find Cyberutopia, so the Cybertronians have a replacement planet, since Cybertron kind of sucks now.

Oh, sorry, did I say realistic? I take it back.

In the present, Rodimus is still bummed out about being dead. Still, the day doesn’t stop just because it’s a bad one, and he calls in the experts.

CHROMEDOME YOU PROMISED TO STOP THIS SHIT

Yeah, no, Chromedome’s fallen off the wagon again, and does his thing on the coffin Rodimus. As he does, Megatron suddenly gets squeamish, Brainstorm pulls out his early early-warning device to lean on the fourth wall, and it’s revealed that the coffin that coffin Rodimus was in was built in the fashion of the Spectralist faith.

All Chromedome can suss out of coffin Rodimus’ memories is the really big important stuff, which includes the speech at Rivet’s Field inviting folks to come join the Knight Quest. Aww, that’s sweet.

With the analysis of the innermost energon complete, the results are in— the coffin Rodimus is a Rodimus. A real one, from the near future. Bummer.

I suppose denial is one of the seven stages of grief, isn’t it?

As everyone argues over whether or not Rodimus is going to die, Nightbeat brings up a good point— there aren’t any numbers carved into the coffin Rodimus’ hand. Rodimus is about to reveal some Ratchet-original wisdom, when things start getting really weird; whole sections of the Lost Light are disappearing.

Over at Swerve’s, Tailgate is regaling his peers with the story of his derring-do against Chief Justice Tyrest. Everyone is very impressed, and this includes our good buddy Getaway.

Jeez, think you’ve got enough antagonist shadows on this guy? It’s almost as if the art’s trying to tell us something about him.

Getaway lays it on real thick, saying that Tailgate could totally be the next Prime, with how courageous and awesome he is, all while completely ignoring Tailgate’s personal space and having a weirdly tiny hand. This seems to seriously bother Cyclonus, who is watching this shit go down from the doorway. Our purple space jet leaves once the drinks start being poured and conversation starts happening. God knows he hates talking about his insecurities.

Then the Pipes is Friggin’ Dead alarm goes off. But Pipes has been dead for a while now, so that must mean something else awful is happening.

Back during the trial, I guess because Optimus has a soft spot for Megatron, he allows him to join the Lost Light’s Knight Quest… even as he says that he could keep the guy locked up until Rodimus and pals find the Knights. However, there are rules to this, and one of the rules is that Megatron must publicly denounce the Decepticon cause.

It is a slow and painful experience for everyone involved, as he reads the statement he was given. It’s an immediate call to action- or rather, inaction.

Geez, think they could’ve made it any more obvious that this was being ghostwritten? I can’t wait to see how long it takes for “Megatron was blackmailed into saying this by the Autobots” to be a plotpoint.

Outside the prison, Ratchet and Rodimus are taking in the brand new Rod Pod, which is genuinely ridiculous in how large it is. Rodimus admits to having taken Atomizer’s list, though he knows that trying to use it to keep those who voted him off would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Also, no one’s told him about Megatron coming along on the trip. As captain.

Or you could, I dunno, lock him up from the start. Or, if you want to give him a chance to prove himself, slap him into a bottom-rung role, like bilge cleaner, or sewage mucker, or whatever the equivalent would be on a spaceship full of giant gay robots. We don’t have to give the guy any power to hold him to scrutiny— any minimum wage worker will tell you that scrutiny comes far harsher for those who actually carry out orders than those who give them.

But what do I know? I’ve never fought in a several million year war, and I don’t plan to.

Getting back to the list, it seems as if Ratchet and Rodimus are on the same wavelength, in that both agree it’s only going to cause trouble and hurt feelings to keep the thing around. Rodimus destroys it with his usual flare, only to be blindsided by the fact that it was fake this entire time. How does Ratchet know this?

Because his name wasn’t on it.

...Man, that’s gotta sting. No wonder Rodimus was upset enough to not take his calls.

In the present, everyone’s in a panic, as they all bolt for the shuttle bay and start pouring into shuttles. The Lost Light is disintegrating around them, which is sort of a problem. Despite this nightmare scenario happening, Rodimus and Megatron still find the time to be assholes to each other. That’s dedication right there.

As the two bicker, multiple shuttles zip away from the rapidly disappearing ship, including the Rod Pod.

Man, now it really is the Lost Light.

[hermannsthumb]

hey I’m not sure if you’re taking prompt requests but I just had this idea if you ever want to write it. I know it’s not anywhere near New Years right now but I had an idea for if there was a little NYE party with all the ppdc staff there. All the homies are just vibing, getting crunk on shitty alchohol or whatever and y’know Newt and Hermann have a lil New Year’s Eve kiss 🥺

That’s all I have to say I hope you’re having a good day!

@owengrose said: Prompt: "My New Year's resolution is to finally tell him I love him."

happy new year’s eve to both of you!!! i let the first one sit in my ask box for a while before getting to it lol. my annual Newmann NYE fic. here’s to hoping next year is moderately better (and I actually get more writing done...)

-------

“Here we are, then,” Hermann says.

He hands Newt a glass of something he concocted at the lab kitchenette—judging by the color, and the pitiful wedge of a clementine garnish he squeezed onto the brim, some sort of gin and tonic, though less tonic and more watermelon La Croix. It was the only thing they could find in the breakroom fridge that would work remotely as a mixer. It’s probably been buried in there for months. “Thanks, dude,” Newt says. Then, noticing the lack of a similar glass in Hermann’s hand, asks “Not drinking?”

“None of that,” Hermann says. “I’ve got a bottle of decent wine buried somewhere under all the rubbish in my desk. I’ll have that if I want any before we go.”

“Suit yourself,” Newt says. “It’ll be more fun if we show up tipsy, I’m telling you.”

New Year’s Eve used to be a lot more exciting when Newt was in school, and young and invincible and all that shit. There were parties—bar crawls—the Times Square ball drop at midnight, queued up on someone’s laptop or a television screen wherever he was—drinking until he needed a classmate (or later colleague) to walk him home. The Shatterdome staff still goes as hard as Newt used to, and God, Newt envies them for it, but the end of the world kinda killed it for him. He just kinda exists in a low, humming state of anxiety now. He and Hermann both. It’s good for them to get out of the lab every now and then and strive for normalcy, and Newt has a feeling Hermann knows it, which is probably why he didn’t put up a fight when Newt suggested they go to the big base party tonight.

Newt still needs a good few drinks in him before he can drink more and pretend to be merry. He finishes the gin and tonic with a wince. “Too much gin,” he says. “Okay, let’s go.”

Newt drinks, and he dances with a few people, and he engages in a few genuine non-work-related-conversations before he finally admits to himself he’d rather just chill with Hermann in one of the deserted corners of the room. Hermann is waiting for him in a stupid gold party hat with a cup of water—what a guy. Always there for Newt. The hat is a cute look on him, too. Newt wonders if he picked it out himself, or if it was forced on him; either scenario is cute.

“I just don’t fancy dealing with your hangover tomorrow,” Hermann says with a sniff, as Newt swallows the water down gratefully after a few thanks. “Last year—”

“Yeah, okay,” Newt says. Last year was bad. He ended up falling asleep on the floor of the lab, and when Hermann made him coffee the next morning, he puked it up all over a very important stack of Hermann’s paperwork and the subsequent shouting match just made his headache worse. Drinking water is good, very good. He kicks his feet up on a nearby vacant chair. The music is loud, and people look like they’re having fun. Normalcy. He and Hermann are just two normal dudes right now, who aren’t fighting monsters from another dimension. “Can you believe we’ve survived another year?”

“Frankly, no,” Hermann admits.

“One whole year,” Newt says. “One whole year of not being squashed by a kaiju, or eaten by a kaiju, or murdered by you…”

Hermann snorts derisively, though a bit of a genuine smile does peek through. “One whole year of you not blowing the laboratory up. That is a feat, isn’t it?”

“You fucking bet it is,” Newt says. He really thought Hermann was going to kill him over the puking incident, and only a day into the new year too. He slings an arm around Hermann’s shoulders. Two normal dudes, and friends at that. He really likes Hermann, y’know, but that might just be the gin and watermelon La Croix talking. “You got any resolutions, dude?”

“Er,” Hermann says.

“I want to try to get into yoga,” Newt says. “For exercise, and shit. We should do it together.” Back when the base enjoyed more funding and workers, Newt was always seeing flyers for weekly yoga classes taped up in the elevator and at the announcement board in the mess; once, he got it so into his mind that he was going to start going that he bought three whole pairs of yoga pants. He never got around to it, of course. The classes kinda fizzled out when the PPDC budget was slashed drastically anyway. Hopefully YouTube videos work just as well, and that the pants still fit him...

“If I’m being honest, Newton,” Hermann says, and Newt spies the tips of his ears turning pink, how cute, “I still haven’t quite managed to accomplish last year’s resolution. Or technically this year’s, I suppose. My—well—my nerves failed me every time I thought I was close.”

"Eh, no big deal,” Newt says. “I never did mine either. I think that’s just as much of a tradition.” He went vegan for all of two weeks before realizing most of the rationing-standard food they served in the mess wasn’t exactly catered to those particular dietary needs. Also, Newt likes fancy lattes too much, and oatmilk just wasn’t kicking it for him. “I totally am gonna do the yoga one though. I need a stress reliever. I don’t wanna go bald before we’re even killed by kaiju, you know?” He crosses his legs. “Or go grey. I can’t decide which is worse. What was yours?”

“Nothing important,” Hermann says quickly. He takes a clumsy sip of his own cup of water, and spills a bit of it down his sweater. Newt decides not to mention. “It must be nearly midnight. Don’t you want to run off to find someone to snog?”

“Nah, not this year, I don’t think,” Newt says. Last year (before the whole blacking out and ruining the paperwork thing), he made out with a ranger he had a crush on for, like, months, and the guy never even called him back. And Newt slipped his official PPDC email into his pocket too. So totally rude. He reaches out and plucks the elastic string holding Hermann’s hat on, and is delighted when Hermann scowls. “You’re stuck with me. Why don’t you find someone to kiss?”

Hermann opens his mouth, and then shuts it. The blush is spreading down from his ears. “I am staying right here, thank you, and I am not kissing anyone.”

“Suit yourself,” Newt says.

“Five minutes to go!” someone in the crowd shouts.

Newt locates a party hat of his own on a nearby table and pulls it on. It’s silver, unlike Hermann’s. He doesn’t think it looks nearly as cute as Hermann’s. “What was your resolution?” he finally asks. The burning curiosity’s too much for him. What did Hermann mean by nerves? Hermann’s never afraid to speak his mind around Newt, at least—Newt can’t remember the last time he’s held back anything. This must be a pretty big thing. 

“Oh, it hardly matters now,” Hermann says. “The year’s about to end, isn’t it? Better luck next go around, I suppose.”

“Were you going to request your own lab?” Newt says. That’s a big thing. And it’s a big thing he’d be hesitant to share with Newt, too. Not that Newt would be upset over having his own lab, obviously, sharing with Hermann totally sucks. It’s the worst.

“Mm. No,” Hermann says.

Newt feels a small twinge of relief, but only for a moment. “A different Shatterdome?” It’s the sort of thing Hermann’s always threatening—by Jove, Newton, if you don’t clean this mess up right now, I’m marching into the Marshal’s office, and I’m going to demand...

“Oh, it’s hardly that dramatic,” Hermann says. He plucks at the elastic of his hat this time. “It’s one minute until midnight.”

“Just tell me!” Newt says. Their fellow partygoers start counting down around them. “You’re killing me. I just wanna—”

“Ten—”

“It’s not important,” Hermann says.

“It is to me,” Newt says.

“It’s really not,” Hermann says.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me—”

“Fine,” Hermann says.

He grips the front of Newt’s shirt. Newt shuts up immediately. “I’m in love with you,” Hermann growls, “you wretched little man. That was my bloody resolution.”

“Oh, shit,” Newt squeaks.

Someone pops a bottle of champagne to loud cheers; confetti is suddenly raining down on Newt and Hermann. They totally missed midnight. “Oh, shit,” Newt repeats, and then, because Hermann looks utterly mortified and like he wants to book it out of there as fast as he can, thinks fuck it. He leans forward and kisses Hermann.

“Newton,” Hermann gasps, half in shock, half in delight, and returns it enthusiastically.

[kbstories]

noodle soup (a little KRBK sick fic)

The squad thought they knew their beloved Blasty was a bit of a feral-type mom friend… until Kirishima got sick from one day to the next, and they witnessed the full extent of how overbearing a worried Bakugou can be. At first Kirishima plays up the whining because, well, he’s sick and that sucks, and hogging Bakugou’s attention is nice and makes everything suck less.

It’s a tactical mistake.

Suddenly, absolutely nobody is allowed close to Kirishima ("Or d’ya fools wanna get sick too, hah?!"). Kirishima’s room becomes a biohazard zone guarded by 1-A’s very own Dynamight akin to Cerberus at the gates of hell.

The thing is: Kirishima is still allowed to do everything he wants. He gets away with demanding hugs (even if Bakugou pointedly leans his masked face away when they snuggle up), or marathon his favorite TV series Bakugou insists actively kills braincells. When Kirishima wakes up coughing and groaning miserably, Bakugou is there to force some cold medicine on him as well as the home-made broth that happens to have those noodle letters Kirishima not-so-secretly finds delightful.

It’s fun until it gets a little claustrophobic. Kirishima is used to working out daily, and hanging out with most of 1-A in some shape or form throughout the week. Being locked in his room is making him antsy in a way that even the virus wreaking havoc on his body can’t dispel.

"Bakuuu", goes Kirishima on day three. "You know I love you, right bro? And that hanging out for all eternity is like, manly as hell—"

Bakugou’s eyes narrow over his mask. He aggressively folds a wet towel and shoves it — deceptively gentle — against Kirishima’s brow. "But?"

"I miss the others, dude! Have you seen Denks blowing up the group chat? This is giving him separation anxiety and stuff."

"Sparks isn’t a fucking dog, he can deal."

"And what about Mina? She needs our combined intel or her gossip operation will suffer!"

"Gossip?! I don’t gossip, you do."

"Fine but like, Sero—"

"Just say you’re tired of me and go!"

Only when Bakugou yells those words does Kirishima realize he’s been actually keeping his voice down when around him. And sure, Kirishima’s aching head had appreciated that — the volume is all the more jarring now.

"Huh?!"

With a glare, Bakugou puts pressure on the towel until Kirishima gets the memo and holds it himself, watching the other get to his feet and start to pace.

"Or— Fucking don’t, your stupid ass is still sick. I’m going. You stay in that bed, Kirishima Eijirou, or so help me—"

Kirishima sputters, "But, dude! I meant like, letting the squad in, not— I wouldn’t get tired of you, I don’t think I can."

"Save it", hisses Bakugou, whirling around on his way out. "Fuck you! And there’s lunch in your mini fridge!"

Then he’s gone.

Continuing to dutifully hold the towel to his too-hot face, Kirishima gapes at his closed door. It takes him a good minute or two to one-handedly text the others not to cross Bakugou’s path.

Then he sits in the sudden silence and misses his best friend.

*

Bakugou stays away for the duration of Kirishima’s sick leave.

It’s a little dramatic, admittedly, especially because (a) they live next to each other, and (b) food seems to magically appear at Kirishima’s doorstep for every meal. His bro is sneaky when he wants to be, though, so Kirishima knows it’s pointless to try and catch him in the act, or even attempt an apology.

(That doesn’t stop him from doing it anyways or from hoping he’ll succeed, of course.)

Guilt keeps Kirishima from using his new-found freedom for anything other than watching TV, finding the comfort lacking even from episodes he knows by heart.

By the time he’s back on his feet, Kirishima has a plan to hunt down the ever-elusive Bakugou and clear things up. And by 'plan' he totally means camping out in front of Bakugou’s room until he shows up. So what if Kirishima is feeling a bit wobbly from residue sickness? He’s a man on a mission, and once Kirishima has made up his mind about something, there is no turning back.

Even when the Bakugou that finally shows up around midnight is looking about as exhausted as he feels. Leaving the fact aside that it’s hours past Bakugou’s bedtime, he looks… weirdly subdued. In actuality, he doesn’t even seem to realize that Kirishima is on the floor, back against Bakugou’s door, until Kirishima pipes up with an uncertain:

"Bakubro?"

Bakugou damn-near startles, blinking and letting his gaze roam until it falls on him. The immediate frown that follows makes Kirishima wince. Yup, alright, Bakugou is still pissed.

"The fuck d’you want?" asks Bakugou in the same moment Kirishima offers, "You good, man?"

Another awkward moment of staring. Kirishima gets up to level the playing field a bit, the elaborate speech he’d thought up blown away by how hazy Bakugou’s eyes are. Oh no.

"You look a bit pale there, Kats. Sure you’re feeling alright?"

"Fine", comes the predictable reply. Bakugou shoves Kirishima aside with half the force he usually would and okay, uncharted territory here.

Because Bakugou definitely caught the virus from Kirishima.

"How about we, dunno, skip the part where you pretend I didn’t manage to get you sick and you let me help you out too?"

There’s hope in Kirishima’s voice. In retaliation, Bakugou’s glare is double as venomous (even if his flushed cheeks maintain a certain softness there too).

"How about you go hang out with the rest of the idiots and leave me alone?"

Yikes. Kirishima shuffles on the spot a little, "You didn’t deny it, though", wanting to reach out but kind of enjoying having un-exploded limbs, as well.

"Kirishima."

Hrghh, definitely still hurt, too. Kirishima whines and leans against the frame of Bakugou’s door, not standing in his way but not letting him go without a fight, either.

"I’m sorry, bro, seriously, I am! I didn’t mean to complain when you were working so hard. Didn’t mean to sound like I don’t appreciate you having my back, either, but I did and just… Couldn’t ask for a better friend, y’know? You being all overprotective about me and stuff, I’m really honored!"

"Kirishima", Bakugou grits out.

Kirishima grins. "Just tellin' the truth."

Huffing out, "I’ll show you truth", Bakugou scowls at this own threat. Probably not murder-y enough. "Whatever. You done? I’m fuckin’ beat."

The worry in Kirishima’s heart returns with a vengeance. Bakugou, openly admitting he’s tired? He must be feeling pretty bad already.

"Okay, yeah, I’m letting you sleep. Just— Lemme get you some of those pills before you do? And like. I’m totally bringing you breakfast in bed, Kats, just a heads-up!"

That gets a scoff out of Bakugou, undeniably amused. "Do me a favor and don’t burn anything, will ya?"

Kirishima beams at the unspoken go-ahead, saluting before rushing to grab the meds Bakugou got him not too long ago. There’s no way he won’t ace this rare chance of taking care of Bakugou.

He learned from the best, after all.

[notmrskennedy]

NSYNC’s Greatest Hit

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

A/N - So I wrote this on national coming out day in like twenty minutes. Here we are much later but I hope you like it. Hopefully as much as I liked my bestie’s edits on it (btw I hope you get the title joke - I’m such a nerd whoops)

Summary - Reader doesn’t know how to tell their best friend that they’re bi...

W/C - 1.4k

Warnings - I swear like a sailor’s mother and general coming out anxiety 

----------

“So, did you like the movie?” he asks and if I’m completely being honest, I’ve forgotten he’s speaking to me. Spencer’s been splitting his time between excitedly explaining what I think might be the plot of this Saturday night movie, and animatedly telling the Saturday night movie—and I might be wrong—to fuck off. But I can’t be 100% sure.

Because the movie’s in Korean.

And he’s forgotten how to speak English for the last hour and a half.

I’ve known Spencer for a really long time, and we’ve had our fair share of grievances over the last however long we’ve been practically family. My biggest problem with him, though, was that he never would explain the plot of a movie to me in English. He would sit on my couch, eat my popcorn, promise that this time will be different, and then explain an entire Korean film to me in Korean. As if I hadn’t barely passed high school!

Sure, I never really mind the rambling—English, or whatever his new language obsession is—but tonight is different. Tonight, I’m more focused on where my ex-roommate had stashed her very forgotten vodka bottle in this stupid apartment. Or if the liquor store around the corner would sell to a girl who didn’t really look 23 and had lost her license.

I know Spencer is staring at me, but I can’t break the circle of thoughts. Vodka, liquor store, vodka, liquor store, vodka—

Can’t he stop looking at me? Can’t he stop looking at the sweat beading on my forehead? Just quit analysing the way I’m biting my nails off, finger by finger? Can’t he just stop looking? Before I fucking combust?

It’s hard enough to admit to myself that maybe—just maybe—I’m not just jealous of pretty girls. And maybe—just maybe—it’s not all that dissimilar to how I look at pretty boys. Because there are a lot of girls that are pretty. Ethereal. Too fucking hot for me to form a coherent sentence.

How is this unobservant idiot going to take the news? I didn’t take it well, and I admitted it to myself!

Here we are, sitting on this ragged old couch—the one that he nearly had a coronary over when I told him I’d got it over Craigslist—imprinted with the pair of us. What am I going to do if he doesn’t take the news well and I have to stare at this couch every day? What am I going to do with a reminder of the friendship I’d lost?

“Y/N? Am I speaking Korean again?” he asks again and I swallow in acknowledgement. If I just move my head. Come on, Y/N, just look at him. There’s no point though; if I look at him, I have to actually tell him. Actually come out of the closet. I haven’t thought up a good joke yet to ease the inevitable pain.

But he’s Dr. Freaking Spencer Reid, FBI profiler! Shouldn’t he be able to see right through me? He should know. It would be so much easier if he just knew. I want him to be able to read my mind and tell me what I should tell him.

“It’s not Korean,” I finally manage to force out. His eyebrows furrow, his cheeks tighten, his brain is working three million miles an hour to determine if I’m dying.

It’s not dying, it’s...wanting to shrink back into the couch cushions so I don’t have to work up the courage. The courage I’ve been trying to work up for weeks. The courage that is keeping my eyes on the screen even as the credits begin to roll.

He nudges me with his elbow. “Are you—are you okay? You seem kind of shaken up.”

I chance a glance at his adorable, concerned, puppy eyes and think about crying. This is Spencer—my best friend—and if he doesn’t know already, then maybe I should just stay in the closet.

What if I shattered our relationship? I mean, I know that Spencer isn’t going to hate me over this, but my brain is throwing a fit. I feel like I could run or puke ‒‒even before I’ve had the chance to drown my worries with an entire liquor store‒‒ or god, maybe both. My brain is screaming that he’ll laugh, make some comment about a threesome. I mean, what if Dr. Spencer Reed was secretly some dude-bro in a…fantastic disguise?

Peeking over, he’s definitely not a dude-bro. The rose-coloured tie is hint enough.

Spencer was so adamant about routines, distrusted change, thrived on reliability. We’d been having the same ancient fight over who was the better Doctor for at least eight years. If I changed, would he recover? Let alone, would I recover if this changed our friendship? Could I still live up to his expectations? Would he still just see me as me? Would I no longer be Y/N, but attention-seeking, indecisive Y/N?

Jesus Christ, they don’t tell you that coming out is way too fucking nerve-wracking at Orientation to Not Being Heterosexual.

“Earth to Y/N,” Spencer sing-songs, “what’s going on?”

Oh, yeah. Gotta use actual real-life words. “Oh, right, yeah. Sorry, I just—I’m just—why is this so freakin’ hard?”

Spencer groans, whines, and then drops his head into his hands. “Morgan was right, right? You’re in love with me or something and I just—“

“What?” I turn entirely towards him. Don’t even bother keeping the shock off my face. “Derek thinks I’m in love with you?”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. Even when he blushes and stutters and can’t look me in the eyes anymore. It’s a blinding change of pace. He runs his fingers through his hair, tries not to let his voice wobble too much. “Are you?”

I laugh harder and wipe the tears from my eyes. “No, I’m not in love with you, Spencer. You’re like my brother.”

The relieved sigh he lets out can be heard around the world. The ‘thank god’ is harder to miss.

“Dude, I can’t believe Morgan thinks I’m in love with you. Out of everyone on your team, I’d totally be screwing Elle.”

The silence is deafening. Oh shit.

Even with the air sucked out my lungs, I fill the fucking silence royally well. “I mean—I was—there—I was going to tell you that—that—that I think I’m bi—bisexual, I mean—you know? Women and men. Men and women?”

I glance over to Spencer—jaw dropped, eyebrows furrowed, nose pinched. I know it’s him just processing the two tons of information I’d just thrown at him. I know he’s just being Spencer about it, trying his best to think before he speaks. But Jesus, would it kill him to say something?

“It explains a lot,” he bluntly snorts. A truly unhelpful tidbit of information. I groan and think about curling into a little ball. He pauses to smile to himself, nudging my foot with his. “It’s not bad! Garcia just keeps talking about how much you smile at Elle and the whole cuffed jeans thing—it just—it just makes sense.”

It was my turn to drop my jaw, but he doesn’t stop trying to prove his point that everything is starting to make sense. If anything he gets more excited. “And did you know that 3.4 women identify as lesbian or bisexual? Or that 3.6 men do? Or that Americans are more likely to report same-sex attraction but not identify as part of the community?”

“So you aren’t weirded out?”

“No,” he answers, “Why would I be? Did you think I’d be upset? Is that why you’ve been weird?”

I scrub my hands over my face. “Um, yeah, Spencer. Usually, it’s pretty hard to come out of the closet. Especially to people you respect.”

He muddles over what I’ve said. His fingers keep digging at a crease in his pants. Maybe thirty seconds later—a long thirty seconds—he cocks his head to the side and states, clear as mud, “I would’ve thought it’d be easy because you know me. I mean, you know that about me.”

“Know what about you?”

“I thought you knew that I’m sexually attracted to men and women.”

My throat constricts—not because I’m freaked out about it—but because I’m freaked out. “Did I miss this conversation?”

“I mean, I told you about how hot the main character of the movie is. And about how his girlfriend is really hot too. Did you miss that part? I spent nearly the last half hour—”

“Korean, Spencer,” I sigh. “It was in fucking Korean.”

“Oh!” he chirps and squirms like a puppy. “In that case, we get to talk about it again!”

“English, please,” I beg, and everything seems as it should be. Even if seeing the indecisive nature of our Swedish fish and sour patch kids popcorn bowl means something a little more.

[bots-and-cons]

Just some ramblings once again I guess, I need to get this out of my system. First of all I'm sorry I haven't been posting much in the past few weeks. I literally haven't had any motivation, like none, nada, zero. I really want to write and post content, but like I said, motivation has been very low. I'll try to get more stuff out this week, if I get the inspiration for it. The rest of this post is just some shit I was thinking in the middle of the night. 

I dislike that I have so much hate and anger in me. I hate my ex-step-mom, I hate her kids, I hate the dude who raped me, I'm angry at my dad, but above all I think I'm angry at myself for being so angry. It's not like my hatred isn't justified though. The shit my ex-step-mom put me through is not something I'd wish on anyone. I'm mad at my dad, because he never came between me and all that shit when I was a kid, and even though there is some resentment in me because of that, I've started working out those feelings by talking with my dad. 

I have a lot of self-hatred too. It’s like I blame myself for everything that goes wrong in my life, even if it wasn’t my fault. I feel like a failure all the damn time and my depression and anxiety haven't really let me go at all in the past month or so. 

My mental and physical health have been deteriorating, and I don't really feel like doing anything about either of those. I've just become a fat fuck that doesn't get anything done. 

I've also been thinking if I'm committed to getting better. Physically I would say hell no. All I do is lay in bed all day and play games, read or write. So even though I should definitely lose weight, I haven't done anything about it in ages, which sucks. But mentally I guess so? I've identified more of my triggers and know to avoid them. I've been keeping up with how long I've been clean from self harm and messing around with pills. I use an app called "I am sober" and it's been working well with tracking my moods too. But still I don't feel like I'm doing enough, because I don't feel like I'm actively trying to get better. It's more like little things, and even though I know those are very good as well, it doesn't feel like it's enough. I feel like I should be more positive and active in my own health, even though I know I don't really have the mental resources to do that right now. Damn, taking care of yourself is hard. 

I kinda live by the saying "here for a good time, not a long time". Because I like to do things that make me happy, no matter how unhealthy. And the thing that probably affects that mindset too, is that when I was like 13, I never thought I'd live this long, because I was always convinced I would off myself before hitting 18. Now, on bad days, I think I'll kill myself before I get to 30. It's like "the goal" has shifted, and maybe it'll keep doing that, maybe I'll hit 30 and "the goal" moves another ten or so years to the future. 

The exam results will be released next Monday at the earliest and I'm anxious as hell. If I don't pass the exam, I'll give up on getting my advanced diploma and just take the normal one. I have no clue what I'm gonna do after I finish high school, maybe I'll work for a year to get some money and continue to a university or a polytechnic school after that. 

There is still repair work going on in our building and they start really early in the morning and I hate it, luckily it shouldn't take more than like two weeks now and they've done all the noisy stuff already. 

My little brother applied to schools so he will probably be moving out of our shared apartment in the fall, and moving to some other town on his own. I might offer my other younger brother to live with me for some days of the week, because it will be easier for him to get to school from here. He would still mainly live with our dad but he could sleep here some nights if he has early mornings at school. Or maybe my friend will move in with me, who knows, it's not really something I need to worry about right now. 

Anyway if you read all this shit, thanks I guess. I mostly post this in hopes of acceptance and to get it out of my system, but I also like to complain/rant so there is that...

[djemsostylist]

Djem's Legion Thoughts

About three years ago my brother joking suggested I read the Horus Heresy, knowing literally nothing about Warhammer. (Literally nothing. I just thought Space Marines were big dudes in armor and I had never heard of Primarchs and I still know nothing of 40k. Have no idea how the Heresy ends--I'm spoiler free babes.) Anyway, what follows are my feelings on each Legion at the following times:

As of midway through Fulgrim

At the end of First Heretic

At the start of the Master of Mankind

Halfway through the Siege

This is very long. I'm not sorry.

Dark Angels

idk I haven’t met them yet, but their name tells me they are either going to be amazing or fucking awful

Um I still dk

God I fucking love these stupid idiots. Like, they are stupid, for sure, but I dunno, I dig their bizarre sort of pseudosecrecy thing. Plus, aesthetically I’m all about weird monk orders. Also, nothing kills me quite like Farith Redloss having anxiety attacks over trying to figure out Lion.

Corswain showing up like the living embodiment of the dude with the pizza where the apartment is on fire is just so deeply on brand for these chucklefucks like, Lion is all “I’m deeply uncomfortable where Imperial Secundus is concerned so instead I’ll just go ahead and attack home planets because that will demoralize the traitors and then I’m Doing My Part” like fam, pretty much all the traitors sans Perturabo are actual literal demons rn and they all had zero qualms betraying their immediate brothers and also the emperor (and Perturabo already fucked over his own) why in the livid fuck would you think this is in any way helpful, but this is Classic Lion and I love him now on account of that one time when he hugged Roboute because he was proud of him and also because he calls all of his sons “Little Brother” bc he is afraid of being a dad and also because I too am deeply avoidant of issues I don’t want to deal with.

Emperor's Children

mostly wonderful, because they are fabulous and also extremely extra, but they have the most ginourmous fuckwad as a Lord Commander, BUT they have a very good boy as another one, so idk really. Plus the whole betrayal thing and the fucking lodges, but they are purple and fabulous, so, +1?

These are the saddest boys ever in the whole world, and they didn’t deserve what happened to them. I loved them all except for Eidolon and they didn’t deserve anything bad to happen to them ever bc they were precious and I loved them. Also Fabius because he was bugnuts and he hurt my boys.

Jesus, I’m so fucking over them all

Honestly I’m so tired

Iron Warriors

I totally confused them with the Iron Hands. Idk even, boring? But Perturabo (while he has a fucking terrible name) also hates Horus so +15

I still know nothing about them, but I think they are buttholes because of the whole Isstvan V thing. Dick move guys, dick move.

I literally can’t. Like, their entire shtick is besieging and being besieged, and then being pissy bc it is what they are good at???? Like, they are literally traitoring bc their dad got a hair up his ass bc he wasn’t a good independent thinker and didn’t think he was allowed to build castles or whatever? Idk they are exhausting except for the ones that aren’t

I still don’t really get them at all except like 99% of them who aren’t named Barabas Dantioch are asshats and are not independent thinkers who are literally still traitoring for reasons unknown except to stick it to the emperor like?? Get an actual culture??? Just literally stop???

White Scars

I dunno, haven’t met them, but since no one else talks about them, I’m gonna guess, boring?

I dunno but they are worried about them hooking up with the Rout so I guess they are cool?

Oh bless your tiny little souls. They are so sweet, and so, so dumb. But sweet.

They are very, very good boys. They don’t have a ton of range per say but their simplicity is sort of the point I think. They are what space marines are supposed to be, and I love them for that

Space Wolves

ehm, oh, I’m sorry, The Rout. Whateverthefuck, they’re boring, over-the-top fuckheads who are giant fucking hypocrites who suck and probably don’t ever shower. Honestly, they rival the Emperor’s Children in extraness, and not in the loveable way. Fucking awful, 0/10.

Okay, honestly, not as awful as some. I mean, hella extra and I hate what they did at Prospero, but in a world full of awful things, we gotta pick and choose.

They are just so, so...Space Wolfy. Bless them they try, and some of them legit crack me up. I’m just not about their aesthetic, you know?

Much like the other fuckups amongst the Loyalists, they are a blunt instrument used for a specific purpose and do better with like...direct instruction. I’m saying they are not the kind to do well with metaphor and also a lack of like, a dad. They need TE:BBA is what I’m saying.

Imperial Fists

Literally only met them briefly, but they seem a good sort. I like their Primarch? -3 tho cause damn that color scheme.

Still good boys.

Omg I love you all, you precious little bbs. They are just so calm and stoic and honestly even though yellow is a hideous color they are literally like Templars and that is fantastic?????

Listen, the amount of love that I have in my heart for these precious, perfect boys is rivaled only by my love for Rogal Dorn, who might possibly be, and I don’t wanna sound dramatic here, be the love of my life but anyway.

Night Lords

idk but their name sounds sick.

Right, these guys are also dicks. I hate them on principle.

Every time I think of them all I can think of is that one video of the goths dancing under the bridge. They are so. Fucking. Extra. Christ alive, get a hobby that isn’t fucking skinning people.

Yeah idk they still mostly suck and to be perfectly honest I’m still not entirely sure what their point was, even pre-heresy? Like what role did psychopaths play in TE:BBA’s plan for a glorious human empire, someone explain

Blood Angels

I dunno cause I’ve only ever met their First Captain (who was consorting with fuckheads) but Sanguinius is literally Top Tier Fabulous, like Prince Extra, so I hope they don’t let me down

I’m still holding out hope. Don’t let me down boys.

OH. MY. GOD. Honestly, kill me, I love them so, so, so, so, so much, it’s a lot. And I suspect something terrible will happen with them but I don’t care because they are perfect. All of them. Wonderful, perfect, lovely, caring boys who love their dad and I love them. Sweet, loving, precious little bbs who occasionally suffer from tragic vampiric tendencies but I don’t love them any less. They better stay perfect forever. If I could, I would be like Sangy and just take them all everywhere with me so that they could always be safe <3 On a less gushy note, I think one of the most important aspects of the Blood Angels (and of their primarch) is that while they acknowledge their differences from unmodified humans, they also love humanity, deeply. They see them as worth fighting for and protecting, and acknowledge that their abilities allow them to create a universe that is safe for the common man to live in. There is a sort of profound love and tenderness that they have for humanity, and I think it really does make a difference in their legion. (That scene is Master of Mankind with the Blood Angel and the Custodian really highlights what I’m saying here.)

Listen, this may sound dramatic, and I don’t wanna like, go over the top, but I would literally die for them, which would seem counterproductive since that is what they do for humanity but the amount of love of I have for this entire legion and one Angel is too big to contain in my heart okay

Iron Hands

I don’t know them well yet, but they seem like good boys overall. I’m sure one of them is bound to be a crazy fucker tho.

They are good boys. I don’t know them very well, but my favorite moment is when Ferrus had to thank Lorgar for his help so he made him a crozius and then threw it at him because he didn’t want to have to talk awkwardly.

Poor sad bbs

No, but really, poor sad bbs

World Eaters

literally terrible people, but I guess when your Dad is bugnuts….

Definitely should have been put down. As in to death. They should have been killed. Probably.

Still fucking crazy. But I love Kharn, and honestly Lotara (who I know isn’t technically a World Eater but close enough.)

No but they probably should have all been just euthanized? I mean not Kharn bc I love him but also like--they are not viable. Long term? Tbh still not entirely sure what TE:BBA’s plan was here with them and Angron (I’m gonna assume something along the lines of ignore it and hope it goes away, since that is mostly his plan for everything)

Ultramarines

probably enormous squares, but tbh in a galaxy with World Eaters and the Rout, we could do with some squares.

Honestly, I have no issues with them. They do their duty, they are loyal. I hope to love them though. They actually believe in colors.

HOLY FUCK DO I LOVE THEM. ALL 200,000 OF THEM. (Which is probably what Roboute thinks tbh.) Like, I literally haven’t met a single one that I don’t adore and love with my whole soul and entire being. They are precious, soft, beautiful bbs who I adore with my whole heart. And who will make great leaders of the world someday I’m so proud. On a less gushy note, much like the Blood Angels, the Ultramarines really have a sort of profound feeling of protection and duty towards humans. They may not always like dealing with them, but Roboute is of the firm belief that they must understand what they are truly fighting for. Saving humanity is not enough, you have to fight for the humans who live there. (See, the one short story where they find a baby and I died.)

No but what you don’t quite get is that I literally love them. Every single individual solitary one of them, and while some may say “But Djem such a thing is impossible you haven’t met every Ultramarine” I need you to understand that the depth of my love for them and their Primarch is such that I know, in my bones, that I don’t need to meet them all to love them okay bc I already do.

Death Guard

Okay, so honestly I wanted to hate them (because BETRAYAL) but tbh its only the First and Second Captains who suck a lot and idk really the rest are sort of tragically precious??

Seriously, what is Mortarion’s issue?

No, seriously, what the fuck is their problem? Get the fuck over it.

Okay, I do feel bad. For Mortarian. Of all the traitors, him I understand the most. However, that being said, while I can understand his issues, I feel like giving yourself over to demons, turning into actual demons, and also turning on and killing your brothers who refused to become said demons makes you terrible awful people who really need to like, die.

Thousand Sons

okay, I fucking love these lame Warrior Monk Priest Wizards who live in a literal glass city with restaurants and teach random people Tai Chi in the park or whatever. Overall 10/10

I am v. worried that they are going to do something dumb like join the rebellion in order to affect change from the inside and then like, adopt demons or something. Pls don’t be dumb boys.

I don’t even fucking--look, I’m just tired okay?

What the fuck Azhek. No seriously, ⅞ is good enough? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Sons of Horus? Luna Wolves? who the fuck knows

my precious sons. You did not deserve what was done to you. This is why we don’t do frats. I believed in you and you failed me. D:

I love my precious sons. The Sons of Horus however, can go die.

I just--why are you the way you are?

I think the best thing about these absolute morons is that half the legion isn’t even demon fuckers, they just woke up one day and Horus told them to kill their brothers and they went “sure okay” and then just did. They are so fucking pretentious and stupid, fucking speartip, honestly die. I take it back. You all deserved exactly what you got, you dumb fucks.

Word Bearers

look, I haven’t met the rest of these dudes yet, but Erebus is a terrible fucking ambassador. -60/10 for not controlling their boy

HOLY LORD. I cannot--there are not actually words to describe how much I loathe these ignorant dumbasses. Like, seriously. Honestly, the ones who were purged were probably lucky, because the rest of them fucking suck.

God, eat a fucking landmine. Except, that would probably turn them on or something. Fucking assholes.

Just--imagine being such a fuckup that even when you were the first to the “become a demon, save the world” thing you still somehow ended up last. I hope the Ultramarines put down every. Single. One.

Salamanders

idk but this name is dumb. Salamanders are cute and slimy, and while Astartes are fucking adorable, they are not slimy. -1 for the dumb name

They are loyal, which is cool, and they seem like chill bros.

I just, like, they are sweet, but good lord are they simple.

I’m not sure? What they are doing? With their lives? Guys, idk if anyone told you but like, um. There is a war. And I get they’ve had it rough but also the loyalists could use their hope so maybe, idk. Do something? I mean I know there are like, 50 of you left and also you think your dad is dad and I feel you but like-

Raven Guard

idk but I like Ravens and Black, plus their Primarch’s name is Corvus? 11/10 they better not suck.

OMG I love Corvus?? Flies with a giant jetpack and tried to gut Lorgar? Yeah, he’s wonderful. Plus, their Captain seemed cool before he was fucking murdered.

I love them all, bless. They are sweet and simple and kind of stupid, but they make me feel things in my heart, so like, idk, stay precious.

Look, I cried over Branne fucking Nev, I don’t wanna talk about it rn

Alpha Legion

seriously? Lame.

Fuck these guys. What is their deal?

I can’t even really. I really, truly can’t. Nothing has ever satisfied me the way I was satisfied when Alpharius literally lost his head. God, that was beautiful.

Or Omegon? It was actually Omegon? I don’t even know anymore man

[fireheartwraith]

So, I decided to watch Fate: The Winx Saga after some deliberation (I saw the trailer and it looked cool). As I never watched the original Winx Club, I'm coming into this pretty much blind to the lore, so if you want to know what someone that doesn't have the "it's different from what I wanted" baggage thinks of the show, let's go!

Episode 1 and Episode 2

• Ooh, this is giving me flashbacks to my first day of university... Luckily Pedro is a good soul and saw me just standing there and asked me if I was a freshman (yes), if I was lost (very much so) and if I wanted help (please)

• I can tell the the show wants me to ship these two because meet cute but... I didn't think it was cute. He was kind of rude in the beginning and it wasn't *sparkles* it was small talk. My talk with Pedro was pretty much the same, except he was nicer. Being a decent person doesn't mean romantic attraction, Show, if you want me to ship this you will have to try harder

• Oh, he's the ex

• Something tells me Stella wasn't this bitchy on the original show. I am not here for the female rivalry, specially if it's because of a basic white dude

• I have never related to someone as much as I relate to Terra since I too tend to talk too much, too fast, and overshare to make up for my insecurities and anxiety. My mom is the plant gal though...

• I want a succulent!

• Bloom, who the heck talks on the phone with the speaker turned on in a room full of people you don't know???? Show wants me to believe you're an introvert when you pull this shit???

• I love Aisha

• I also love Musa

• Is a burned one kind of like a werewolf? Where if it scratches you, you turn into one? If that's the case, is there a way to get them conscious again? Like the wolfbane potion in Harry Potter

• I'm gonna pretend everyone is over 18 bacause I can't handle another Riverdale

• ........ everything changed when the fire nation attacked

• I'm sorry but you can't talk to me about the elements and expect me to not think about atla

• Being an empath in high school must suck. All that teenage angst....

• Changeling! Makes sense. My bet is that her father is the leader of the burned ones and the principal is her mom

• I get that she's missing home and normality but her mom was a bitch

• I'm glad they revealed this now and not at the end of the season, when literally everyone would know

• Stella quit being a bitch

• I expected the princess of Solaria to be a fire fairy, not an air one....

• Riven and Beatrix deserve each other

• Protect my gay baby!!

• MAGIC LESSONS

• Bloom needs to meditate and Stella needs to chill

• What kind of human parents name their child Bloom??? Aisha sounds like a human name, not fucking Bloom. I bet it's a white people thing, like Ashleigh

• Stop being mean to Aisha and Terra! They're just trying to help!

• Musa really found the one bitch in this place that doesn't have anxiety and went 👀 huh

• No! Don't use anger! Are you the only kid that never watched A:TLA?? Have you learned nothing from Zuko???

• No! Don't follow the whispery voice in the woods! That's how people get killed in horror movies!

• Oop, that's a lot of bodies

• Something tells me that burning a burned one isn't going to help

• Aisha to the rescue!

• Gross

• SO THERE IS A POTION

• Silva is a really common surname here in Brazil.... We're fairies confirmed

• Oh, they are going to pretend that Sam being Terra's brother is drama worthy huh

• Stella quit being a bitch /rt

• Yes! BOND

• huh

• That's different

Episode 3

• Have I already said that Aisha is the best??

• I still don't get what the specialists are. One the first episode Sky told Bloom "you are a fairy" as if he isn't one, and the only thing I've seen specialists do so far is fight with sticks. What are they doing in magic school?

• So, Silva can't get better until the burned one that infected him is dead? I'm pretty sure there's something like this in vampire or werewolf lore

• Is Silva Sky's dad or something?

• MAGIC LESSONS

• Don't go to the dark side Bloom! Beatrix bad!

• How many headmasters does this school have??

• Oh yeah, this dude is evil too. I forgot he existed

• Uh, do all hetero coupled do cringey shit like that?

• My mom starts talking to me about something she was thinking about as if I have the context ALL THE TIME!! We're all Terra #PowerToTheNerds

• But I'm more of a coffee addict than a tea aficionado

• Oh thank god they are using km

• RIP Silva

• Aaawww suite to the party!

• Okay but grown ups gossiping while being 100% of what the youngsters are trying to hide is my favorite trope ever

• All these pop songs are going to age the show

• Terra that was so awkward omg

• What the fuck Stella???

• How old do fairies get? Like, do they live for centuries?

• Is it bad that I discovered what shotgunning is through a smutty wolfstar fanfic? 😬

• Rosalind? Former headmistress Rosalind?

• Oop, another dead body

• Oop, Silva..... F 😔

• Bloom can't you listen to Aisha for once??? You are going to get yourself killed

• That's a sweater, not armor

• Because that's not creepy at all

• You could at least have phoned a responsible adult before running off into the forest looking for a toasted slender man

• Your suite mates don't qualify as responsible adults but it's better than nothing I guess

• Oh look, a portal to another dimension!

• Look! A responsible adult!!

• Oh, he's still alive

• Oh wait, nevermind

• Did she just Thanos him?

• Hugs!

• I still don't get what the specialists are

• My best friend in high school was adopted so I'm having flashbacks... Her birth parents got in contact after almost two decades of radio silence. It was a very difficult time for her, with lots of different and sometimes opposite emotions about the whole thing. In the end she accepted that whatever happened, happened and that the mom that raised was her real mom, no matter her faults. I hope that Bloom can get to the same conclusion

• Alright, I wasn't expecting Rosalind to be in magic cryogenic coma

• Why can't they meet? Is Rosalind evil or something?

Episode 4

• At least now Bloom is aware that her friends have their own lives and aren't they just to be her sidekicks

• Girls sticking together!

• Still don't get why Musa needs to hide her relationship with Sam.... If I was Terra I would be more upset that my friend was hiding the relationship from me than the relationship itself

• Last episode was Sky's daddy issues, so this one is Stella's mommy issues. And, of course, the whole show is about Bloom's issues (general)

• The Queen of Solaria is named Luna?? Huh

• This episode is also about snooping

• I'm going to find whoever thought hdr was good idea and force them to watch something on Netflix when the screen is so dark you can barely see what's happening

• I'm going to pretend that's a p!atd reference

• I'm going to pretend I didn't hear 2004

• Can the camera stop spinning, I'm getting dizzy

• Anakin noooo

• Rehabilitation magic?

• So Queen Kindness is not so nice after all

• I want to give Sky points for figuring it out but let's be honest here, it was not that hard

• When did they name themselves "Winx"? And what does that even mean?

• ANAKIN NO

• Good for you sky

• Yes! Tell the responsible adults!

• Push her

• So your parents were from Aster Dell

• Well they both are redheads

• Oh sweet Anakin...

• SEE???

• Silva that's shady as fuck

That's all for now! I will watch the rest, but don't know if I should make another post or just edit this one...

[ackerslut]

Two Bisexuals Are Your Co-Captains

ao3

“I solved racism,” Mariner says, kicking open the ready room door. This should not be physically possible, as doors have progressed past the need to be opened, and are, in fact, automatic.

Boimler, whose face is currently one with the synthetic wooden desk, gives her a thumbs up but doesn’t move beyond that.

“Okay, I lied, I didn’t solve racism,” Mariner admits. “It’s still a problem in our galaxy. But, I did solve our captain problem!” she tries. This does get Boimler to remove his face from it’s fixture on the desk.

“You did?” he blinks up at her, creases in his face from where it had been smooshed against the hard surface.

Mariner dumps an honest-to-god paper file on his desk. “Check it out, twink.”

Boimler swipes the file, frowning as nothing happens when he taps it. Mariner helps him out, flipping the cover over. “So there’s this really nifty rule back from like 2039 that allows for two acting captains to co-pilot the ship simultaneously.”

“Are you serious?” Boimler groans.

“As Legato Infection,” Mariner confirms. “It was apparently instated for missions where the crew is like. Separated or some shit and need more than one captain coordinating. Because Starfleet was also part of the air force for a while, co-captains were basically just co-pilots. Like this was a whole thing. But it got overwritten with the First Officer Act of 2048 that instated First Officers as a fill in instead of a co-captain, able to make decisions and delegate, but it was never technically outlawed. Meaning…”

“We could technically take advantage of the loophole and-”

“Co-Captains!” Mariner punches the air. “You know what this means?”

Boimler blinks at her blankly. Beckett applauds herself over the alliteration, as she throws an arm over his shoulder. “It’s our ship,” she whispers dramatically, already envisioning the communist flags with selfies of her and Boimler printed on them.

“Or it could just be your ship,” Boimler says, fear in his eyes.

Beckett grabs his collar, dragging him up to eye level. “Our ship.”

________

“Beckett no,” Freeman says flatly. Ever since The Incident--the one where the ship was overrun with the Pakleds that took out the entirety of senior command--she’s been in medbay, wrapped up in so many bandages she looks like a mummy from one of those really old movies Boimler is obsessed with.

“Beckett yes ,” Mariner says, taking a slurp of her cherry limeade slurpee. “You named me First Officer!”

“Then why does Boimler-”

“Ransom also named him First Officer!”

“So your brain jumped to Co-Captains ?” Mariner can’t see her mom’s expression, but from her squinty eyes she’s pretty sure it’s disapproving. “That is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“You can’t call your daughter dumb!” Mariner throws her hands up in the air.

“Mariner, you’re dumb.”

“That’s against parent rules! Everything I do is supposed to be a fucking delight!”

Freeman turns her judgy eyes to Boimler, who had been staring off into the middle distance, probably traumatized by all of the shrieking the mother and daughter duo had been doing since they entered medbay. Whatever, it’s not Mariner’s fault that her mom’s kneejerk reaction to her daughter charging into medbay with a bat'leth and no shirt on was to shriek like a goddamn banshee.

“You know what,” Freeman says, eyes locked on Boimler. “I’m already having a bad fucking week. Go ahead, make it worse I dare you .”

“Uhm-”

“We absolutely will do that,” Beckett promises, crossing her heart.

_____

“ ATTENTION ALL PERSONAL ,” Mariner says, over the ship’s speakers. D’Vana, from her position at the First Officer’s station, gives her a Disappointed Look. Mariner gives her a thumbs up back.

“ DUE TO OUR EXCRUCIATING CIRCUMSTANCES AND THE LACK OF COMMUNICATION BETWEEN YOUR FORMER CAPTAIN AND HER FIRST OFFICER, ENSIGN BOIMLER AND I WILL BE YOUR CO-CAPTAINS TONIGHT. OR FOREVER, WE HAVEN’T DECIDED YET.”

“Mariner, what are you doing?” Boimler says, storming onto the Bridge. Mariner, who had hacked the Bridge speakers to play Demi Lovato’s Confident every time Boimler entered, is pleased to note that nobody had figured out how to turn that off yet. Unfortunately for her, however, Boimler didn’t recognize his girlboss powers, and had been yelling at her every time it happened.

“I’m letting the ship know about our change in command, oh Co-Captain of mine,” Mariner says over the booming bass and Demi Lovato’s dulcet tones. In the corner of her eye, the vulcan side character that everyone thought was a Cool Guy, bopped his head to the music.

Boimler sighs, pressing his palms into his eyes. “So we’re actually doing this?”

“Dude, I already made us friendship jackets. That shit had a no refunds policy.” She pulls a leather jacket that had been draped over their helmsman's head--bad for ship navigation, but good for dramatic effect--and throws it at Boimler. Boimler unfolds the pink monstrosity, sighing deeply at the neon-yellow glitter words Gatekeep Girlboss Gaslight emblazoned on the back.

“Is this really necessary?”

“It’s ABSOLUTELY necessary,” Mariner says, standing up. She turns around, showing Boimler her purple jacket which says Malewife Mansplain Manipulate in snot-green glitter.

“HOW DOES THAT MATCH.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DOES THAT MATCH.” Her voice echoes strangely, alerting her to the fact that the shipwide comms are still in use. She reaches over, flicking the switch off and turns back to Boimler, hands on her hips. “Is this an anxiety thing again? Do you need to go back on medication?”

“I don’t need to be on meds!”

“Then why won’t you wear our super secret special jackets!”

“Because mine is hot pink and says girlboss on the back!”

Mariner lets out a gasp. “Are you saying... Boimler are you adhering to GENDER ROLES?”

“No-no stop it -”

“You! You of ALL PEOPLE-”

“Mariner, cut it out!”

“LET IT BE KNOWN THAT BRAD BOIMLER IS A-”

Boimler pulls the jacket on so violently that he somehow elbows himself in the eye. The pink really does go with his hair-which Mariner knows for a fact he dyes himself every three weeks. “There! Happy?”

“So so happy.” Mariner hands him a martini from the tray she had brought in and nailed to the arm of the captain’s chair. The one she hands to Boimler has a rainbow umbrella in it. “So, first order of business. I think we need car seats for short people.”

“Excuse me.”

Mariner picks up her own martini glass and takes a chug, choking on the strawberry chunks she had grinded into it a few minutes before Boimler got here. “You know, car seats? That shit you put babies in because cars are a danger to humanity but we keep buying them? I think the shorties on this ship deserve some protection.”

Boimler drains his glass. “Fine, whatever, I don’t even care anymore.”

______

Mariner is commissioning the previously mentioned communist flags with hers and Boimler’s faces printed on them, when Tendi comes into the ready room. She is wearing the face of complete and utter defeat that everyone else had been wearing since the Co-Captains had been instated. Mariner insists it’s because they’re sad that she and Boimler wouldn’t get to be captains forever. Boimler says it’s because everyone’s writing their suicide notes to their familes.

“Mariner, we need to talk,” Tendi says, using the opening line to every break up Mariner’s been a part of and seen on tv. Which is really weird because she didn’t think she and Tendi were in a relationship.

“I’m all ears,” Mariner says, which is a dumb fucking line because clearly she isn’t , but people say that all the time.

“I don’t want to be your First Officer,” Tendi says, crossing her arms. “It was fun for the first week, but after you made it mandatory to do the Macarena during the first ten minutes of each hour, morale has been down.”

“Hmm,” Mariner pets Boimler’s therapy cat, Dishwasher, thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll make that one optional. Any other requests?”

Tendi sighs. “No,” she admits. “To be honest, the ship is running at 98%, which is the highest any ship in Starfleet has ever run. I think Brad orgasmed when he heard about that.”

“You call him Brad ?” Mariner stares up at her friend, aghast.

“That’s his name?”

“Yeah, and his cat’s name is Dishwasher , but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to call her that!” Dishwasher growls at her name. Mariner shushes her, hands clamped over her ears. “She turns into a murder-rage machine when you call her by her given name! How do we know Boimler isn’t the same?”

“Because I call him Brad all the time!” Tendi hisses back, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Oh my god, he’s probably serial killing as we speak. I hope you’re ready to talk to the victim’s families and let them know that their loved one’s died because you couldn’t help yourself.”

Tendi stares at Mariner for a full minute. “Resignation,” she reiterates, pointing at Mariner. “I want to be a gross ensign scrubbing the deck again. Nepotism sucks .”

“Fine, you’re demoted. Go enjoy mediocrity.”

“I will.” Tendi storms out, kicking the door shut. Which again, is completely, 100% impossible because it’s the 23rd century or whatever-Mariner’s not keeping count-and automatic doors are now a Thing.

Mariner hacks their speaker systems to play the Wii Shop Channel Music-a reliac of the past only alluded to on private groupchats and servers- to play whenever Tendi entered a room. It’s the least she could do.

______

“As your First Officer,” a reluctant Rutherford says reluctantly, “I am here to remind you that that would be a very bad idea .”

“Rutherford, who’s the boss around here?” Mariner asks, hands on her hips.

Rutherford sighs. “You.”

“And as the boss, who makes all the decisions around here?”

Another sigh. “ You .”

“Then why are you being a killjoy over my decision to get down and dirty with my Co-Captain?”

Rutherford makes a shriek-y noise, like those boys who got their testicles cut off in the old days so they could sing opera. “Mariner, I’m serious, don’t do it .”

“Is it against regulation?”

“No,” Rutherford groans. “You’re both the same rank-”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You can’t sleep with Boimler just because you can!”

“That’s not why I’m going to sleep with Boimler,” Mariner waves him off. “I was sitting on his lap the other day-”

“Oh my god -”

“-in the Captain's chair--ooh we should look into getting another one of those, TWO chairs are better than one--”

“Mariner, to the point please.”

“Oh, yeah, so I’m in his lap and I maay have backed up a little too far and bumped up against-”

“Stop literally stop .”

“Yeah, so turns out Boimler is PACKING and I gotta hop on that train, so to speak.”

“Okay, you know what?” Rutherford shoves his padd at Mariner. “I quit, I can’t do this. I want to be a lower decks ensign again.”

“Wow, you’re like, the seventeenth person this week to quit. Which, coincidentally, is exactly how long I’ve been captain.”

“Yeah, weird coincidence,” Rutherford deadpans.

_____

“I may have fucked up, Mom,” Mariner shrieks, waltzing into medbay with all the grace of a duck pulling off a white bread heist. “I think you should take captaincy back.”

Freeman, who had fully recovered two days ago, but refused to engage in the chaos Mariner was purposely causing on her ship, looks up from where she’s reclining with her long island ice tea and swimwear magazines. “Really now?”

“ Yes . All of my friends hate me and I found out Boimler has purple pubs.”

Freeman almost drops her drink. “ What .”

“Tell me about it. Don’t get me wrong, we’re still fucking, but like. Wow, I thought he dyed everything. Turns out that shit is natural.”

Freeman covers her face with one hand. “No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re keeping the ship.”

“WHAT.”

“I already spoke to your father,” Freeman gives her daughter a shark-like smile. “We agreed that this position of authority has been good for you. And, considering, the ship is running better than any ship in Starfleet since the inception of the Federation, the Admiralty wants you and Boimler to stay on.”

“ WHAT .”

“They think it’s an interesting social experiment that merits more research. Congratulations, you and your fuck-buddy are now ginnypigs.”

___

“I think, as a sign of protest, we should rename the ship,” Mariner says, draped across the desk in the ready room. Boimler, sprawled out all over the desk chair, snorts. The room has been completely revamped in pride flags and the previously mentioned communist flags. Mariner thinks it’s her best interior design work, but Boimler claims it’s an eyesore.

“What would we name it?” he asks, humoring her.

Mariner considers it, taking a swig of vodka. “Okay, hear me out. Q and Picard’s Loveboat.”

Boimler grabs the bottle out of her hand, taking a chug. “You know what? This might as well happen.”

They submit the formal request on Boimler’s padd a few minutes later and are both pleasantly-at least in Mariner’s case-surprised that it goes through. It’s likely that the guy in charge of filtering these requests is either very very bored or very very underpaid and either way Mariner likes his energy.

A few days later, they have Q AND PICARD’S LOVEBOAT stamped across the side of the ship in comic sans-a truly underappreciated font from ye olden days that Mariner dug up one night on the wayback machine.

It takes exactly four weeks for the Admiralty to catch wind of it-by then she and Boimler had been Co-Captains for almost two months-and, well, there isn’t much they can do about it.

She does receive a rather long voicemail from her dad that she promptly deletes. She’s not about that energy.

_____

“Boims, Boims, Boims,” Mariner chants, crawling into his bed. Boimler lets out a shriek as her ice cold toes slide up against his bare thigh.

“So you know how our ship got renamed so easily?” she says, once Boimler had stopped screaming. “Well, I found the dude who approved it. Nice kid, I want his gender. Anyway, looks like my dad is getting a new ship and they're getting someone to christen it.”

“Oh my god,” Boimler says faintly, turning his face into his pillow.

“I may have gotten us on the list of possible people to christen it. As in, the kid hacked the server for me and we're the only people on that list.”

Boimler looks like he's regretting everything ever. He also looks like he's kind of in love with her. Mariner inspires that kind of duality in people. “What are we going to name it?” his voice has a tinge of fear in it that both of them get off on. The kink is strong with this couple.

Mariner grins.

_______

THE DADMIRAL: ACT OF REBELLION OR GENIUS?

Ash H. Beiggs

Many of you may remember the highly criticized decision Starfleet made when instating “Co-Captains” on the starship Q and Picard’s Loveboat ( formally known as the USS CERRITOS). Well, Captains Bradward P. Boimler and Beckett E. Mariner are back with bigger and bolder headlines to make.

The chaotic young duo are renowned Federation-wide not only for running the tightest ship in Starfleet, but for their unorthodox methods. Captain Mariner in particular has been praised for her innovating thinking and usual personality. When asked about her decision to name Admiral Mariner’s ship The Dadmiral she simply claimed that “Mohammad had his mountain, Jesus had his followers and [she] had a molotov cocktail and nothing to lose.” Captain Boimler declined to comment.

The actual christening of The Dadmiral was reported as a “spectacle to behold” by many onlookers. Captain Mariner was seen streaking through the aforementioned ship, with a bottle of vodka in one hand. Her Co-Captain was not far behind her, but was reportably more restrained. The actual christening was completed by Captain Mariner who “yeeted the vodka” into the ships warp core, shouting “ One of us. One of us,” in rapid succession until she was removed by security.

Neither Admiral Mariner or Captain Freeman are available to comment at this time.

[poisonedapples]

Roman Gets Help 1/5: Bad Nights

Part One: Virgil

Part Summary: Roman is always trying to make his anxiety more manageable with a bunch of different tactics. But a disorder is a disorder, and some days are worse than others. But at least his best friend Virgil is around to help.

Part of the Service Dog AU!

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Warnings: Past panic attacks, medication, anxiety, Remus making poop jokes because he’s Remus, swearing and food mentions

Word Count: 2,751

Taglist: @hold-our-destiny @pricklyfish777 @romansleftshoulderpad

Notes: Cornybird on Ao3 deserves Many Squishmallows for editing so much of my stuff, including this. So send visual squishmallow vibes to her, she deserves it

Virgil really should have known something was weird when Roman didn’t text back.

The two had made plans during lunch to meet up at Roman’s house so he could help with Virgil’s Spanish homework. Roman was infinitely better with language stuff than Virgil could ever dream to be, and even when the work was done, it was always nice to hang out in his room and get away from his wild parents every once in a while. But since Roman left school early and Virgil had to stay after for band practice, he hadn’t heard or seen Roman in a while.

That in itself wasn’t weird, though. What was weird was that when Virgil texted him that he was on his way, Roman didn’t respond. Not even with an emoji reaction or a simple ‘okay’. But even then, what was even weirder was that Virgil was right outside his door, texting Roman to open it for him, and he still wasn’t responding.

Virgil checked the last three messages he sent to Roman’s phone. All of them were marked as delivered but not read, which was also very concerning. What could Roman be doing that he hadn’t checked his phone in thirty minutes? Virgil got anxious when he didn’t read messages immediately, let alone waiting half an hour.

Virgil sent him one last text before putting his phone away. You there? I’m outside.

No response. Virgil knocked on the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting and shifting on his feet for someone to open the door. After a couple minutes, he started to think Roman had just forgotten.

However, a slight spark of hope rose up in him at the sound of the front door opening. But when Virgil looked up from his shoes to the person at the door, he felt his shoulders sag.

It wasn’t Roman who had opened the door. There was no shy and apologetic smile with Princess right under his feet. Instead, it was his bastard brother in ripped jeans and a green tank top, blowing bubblegum like a bully in a 90s Nickelodeon show.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite emo! What brings you here, Raven Way?” Remus asked, leaning on the door frame with a cocky smile.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You’ve already used that one.”

“It’s my favorite nickname for you. It’s the perfect brand of insulting. It has spice to it.”

“I’m glad you’re entertained then. Is Roman out somewhere?”

Remus cocked an eyebrow. “No, he’s been up in his room. Last I checked he was as passed out as a corpse.”

“Okay...can I come in then?”

Remus smiled and opened the door for Virgil, taking a bow as he stepped inside. Virgil rolled his eyes again. This guy is so fucking weird. “You know where his room and the shitter is. Just follow the trail of dog hair to his royal highness.”

“You terrify me, Remus.”

“Good! That’s the aesthetic I’m going for. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a bigass thing of chili dip in the fridge that may or may not be expired. We’ll see!” Virgil’s eyes narrowed as Remus skipped back to the kitchen and right to the fridge, but he really didn’t want to be around for that mess. Instead, Virgil went upstairs and turned left to Roman’s room, the colorful Disney decorations covering his door. Virgil knocked twice, but when met with no answer, he came inside anyway.

The first thing Virgil noticed was the lights. The windows and blinds were shut tight so no sunlight could get through while Roman’s fairy lights around his room were turned on. The soft twinkling gave the room a feeling of calmness, but the sight on the bed was more concerning than tranquil. Princess was sat down on top of the bed comforter with two arms wrapped around her, Roman blending in with the sheets he was under as he shoved his face in his dog’s fur. At least she didn’t seem to mind.

Roman looked up at the sound of the door opening. Virgil felt his heart sink when he saw the tear streaks down his face and his messed up hair, but Roman tried his best to respond to Virgil anyway. “Hey…”

Virgil took off his shoes and threw his backpack onto the floor next to the door. “Hey, dude. You look like shit.”

Roman made a strange huff sound, probably meant to be a laugh. “Thanks.”

He buried his face back into Princess’ fur, and Virgil felt that pang of worry grow stronger. He moved to the other side of the bed, sitting alongside Roman and his pile of blankets and pillows. “You okay?”

Roman shrugged. “I’m doing better.”

“What happened?”

“Panic attack.”

Virgil sucked the air through his teeth as a way to say yikes. “Seems like it was a pretty bad one.”

Princess rolled over onto Roman’s chest, and Roman cuddled even closer than what Virgil thought was possible. He looked so small when he did that. “Worse than usual.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“No. Sometimes it just happens.” Roman kissed the top of Princess’ head. “Anxiety just...does that.”

“Yeah, I get it. Trust me, out of everyone you know, I’d probably be the one to understand it the most.”

“...Yeah.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of them. Virgil didn’t actually know what to do when Roman was like this. He’s stopped him from having panic attacks in the past, but he’d never seen him look this bad. Roman was curled in on himself under the covers, gripping onto Princess for dear life in an attempt to soothe himself. His pile of stuffed animals usually spread around the bed were now in a giant pile around his body, and his weighted blanket poked out from under the comforter too. It looked like he was trying his hardest to get comfortable, and Virgil didn’t know what else he could do. A distraction? A nap?

Well, only one way to find out.

Virgil took a deep breath in. “...Is there any way I can help?”

Roman shrugged again. “Not that I know.”

“Did you take a nap? That usually helps me the most.”

“I just woke up. My meds knocked me out.”

“Your meds?”

Roman took a pill bottle from his nightstand and showed it to Virgil. He read the confusing label that all medicine bottles have, but the name of the pills was long and unfamiliar in Virgil’s mind. Roman placed them back once Virgil got a good look and curled in on himself more. “Panic attack meds. They help you calm down really quick when you’re having an attack. They always put me to sleep after. Remus likes to call them my tranquilizer dart.”

Virgil snorted. “I mean...accurate name. I’ve just never seen you with those before.”

“I only take them on bad days. My therapist warned me about how I shouldn’t take them after every panic attack, because then I’ll never learn how to deal with them on my own, and I might get addicted. Which I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, I know about the addiction thing. I used to be on anti-anxiety until last year.”

Roman tilted his head up to look at Virgil for the first time. “Really?”

“Yup. I got eased off them after a while, though. Now I just take an antidepressant, which honestly isn’t much. I think everyone in our friend group is on some kind of meds.”

“...Patton?” Roman asked.

“Patton’s one depressed mother fucker. I say that out of love, but yes, he’s also on antidepressants.”

“And Logan?”

“...Dude. Epilepsy.”

Roman let out a silent oh. “...I forgot you take meds for that.”

“Our brains are fucked up and we accept this.”

Roman flashed a small smile but didn’t respond. After that, the two had fell silent as Virgil awkwardly patted a beat on his leg to put his nervous fidgeting to use.

What do you do for someone getting out of a panic attack? It was obvious Roman wasn’t in a talking mood, but it was killing him inside to just...sit there while he looked so helpless. But he’d never had to deal with this with a friend before. The worst he’d dealt with were Patton’s bad depression days, and those had nothing on how horrible Roman looked right now. And if he already took a nap...what else were you supposed to do after a panic attack?

Virgil thought back to his own experiences. Of course, Virgil’s anxiety was nothing compared to Roman’s, but it was better than nothing. And comfort worked no matter how bad you felt, even if it was only a little.

He thought back to his own parents. How his mom would hold him and let him cry into his shoulder if he needed to, but that was too awkward for him to do with Roman. His dad would let him curl up and watch him play games on the console, which could maybe work…

...Then Virgil remembered another thing his mom did once after one of his worst panic attacks. It might be a bit embarrassing because of intimacy, but it would help Roman feel better. And that’s all that matters.

“I’m gonna go get some stuff, okay?” Virgil said, “You stay right here.”

Roman hummed. “Wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but okay.”

With that, Virgil hopped out of Roman’s bed and left the bedroom.

First, he needed a water bottle. Roman probably had some water when he took his meds, but it likely wasn’t enough to stop a headache after all the crying. Virgil went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. While he was there, he looked through the rest of the fridge and noticed that there was no container of chili dip in there anymore. Gross.

Expired chili dip aside, he would need a face rag as well. Virgil went through a hallway on the first floor to the older bathroom downstairs, looking through the drawers for a decent cloth. A small one was hidden in the back of the drawer with some bottles of face wash and lotion, so Virgil grabbed that and took a mental note to put it back later. He stood in front of the faucet and stared at it for a while.

Was cold or hot water better for getting tears off someone’s face? Warm water seemed like it’d be more comfortable, but cold water could also be more refreshing. He thought about the possibilities for a while and settled on warm based on his own preferences, turning the hot and cold handles to where the water was only slightly warm, wetting a side of the cloth then turning the faucet off.

Before he left the bathroom, Virgil grabbed a couple squares of toilet paper and then headed out the door. He was back in Roman’s room not even five minutes later, setting his stuff on the nightstand for a second as he grabbed his DS from his bag and turned it on. Roman glanced up from the bed with a confused look, but didn’t say anything. Virgil came back next to the bed and motioned for Roman to move to the middle. Reluctantly, and with some shifting of Princess still at his side, Roman did so.

Virgil sat in Roman’s old spot and grabbed the wad of toilet paper. “Here, sit up and blow your nose. The last thing you need right now is more breathing problems.”

Roman grunted as she shimmied out from under his weighted blanket to sit up against the headboard of his bed. He took the toilet paper from Virgil and blew. “...Thanks.”

“No problem. Now just stick with me for this next part, because I’m not good with touchy-touchy shit, so this’ll be a little awkward.”

Roman gave Virgil a confused look, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed the damp cloth and silently tilted Roman’s head to face him. Virgil tentatively lifted the cloth to his face and wiped the tears from under his eyes, the gesture mixed with the warm water making Roman hum in content. Virgil didn’t acknowledge what was happening, he just wiped off his friend’s face, flipping to the dry part of the cloth to dry him off after.

“There. That should help you feel less gross, anyway.”

“Thanks...it helped.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Virgil set the cloth to the side and handed Roman the water bottle. “And drink this, it’ll help with that nasty headache you probably have.”

Roman twisted the cap open and chugged the bottle, finishing half of it in record speed before putting it down again. Virgil could tell by how fast he chugged it that his head was probably throbbing.

“Feeling a little better now?” Roman nodded. “Wanna watch me play Harvest Moon until you probably pass out again?”

He nodded again, Virgil scooting closer to him so Roman could place his head on his shoulder as he watched. His hand combed through Princess’ fur as Princess trapped the other under her paw to lick. Most people would think it was gross, but considering licking was one of her grounding techniques, he was desensitized to it by now. “Which one do you have?”

“A New Beginning. I’ll show you all my cows because they’re bomb as fuck. My first cow is named Oven and I have a baby one named Chaos.”

Roman laughed as Virgil started up the game. “Awesome. You play it often?”

“Eh, sometimes. It’s not my favorite game, but I carry it with me because it’s good for calming anxiety down. All I gotta do is feed my animals and mine and shit. Nothing else matters, you know?”

Roman nodded as best he could from Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil loaded up his save file and started to show Roman around his farm, mostly skipping the crops and going straight to the pets and farm animals with the most ridiculous names Virgil could get away with using only six letters. Virgil chatted away about his game and read all the speech bubbles out loud, showing off his wife who he swears he married platonically since his character was obviously gay and talking about his rivalry with the hair stylist. Roman wasn’t responding much, just a few hums and little laughs here and there, but Virgil didn’t mind. So long as his friend was feeling better, that was all that mattered.

A while later, Virgil was baking desserts for a contest being held in town when he spoke up again. “I’m shit at cooking good stuff in this game, but I can make some neat pancakes, apparently. I’m gonna make this contest my bitch.”

There was no response. That wasn’t very strange in itself, but usually when Virgil sweared, Roman at least made a small huff of a laugh from his shoulder. But this time, he was completely quiet. Virgil looked over at his shoulder when he almost awwww’ed out loud.

Roman had fallen back asleep, his mouth open slightly with his arms cuddling Princess extra close as she seemed to relax alongside him. He was adorable, and in a moment of softness that Virgil would deny to the end of his days, he helped Roman to lay back in bed and brushed the hair out of his face. Roman still clung slightly to him even as he slept, so Virgil accepted his fate and moved to curl up alongside him, continuing his game with a smile on his face.

“Your sleep schedule is gonna be absolutely fucked, dude.” Virgil said. There was no response, obviously, and Virgil didn’t talk to his sleeping friend after that. He just took a mental note to tell his parents he was staying the night before it got too late and kept caring for his farm.

Maybe later he’d wake Roman up and get him some dinner, letting him recharge and take a shower before they actually had to go to bed. He’d be too awake to actually sleep at first, but the company of his friend and the comfort of his dog would keep him calm through that, even when Roman hated being awake past eleven. Patton may even find out and tease Virgil about having a heart after all, which Virgil would deny until the end of his days. But his edgy reputation wasn’t what mattered right now.

Instead, Virgil smiled and cuddled closer as Roman slept peacefully.