#slightly oversharing here but what’s tumblr for if not that

[stardial]

ughhh i cant sleep :(

[depresseddepot]

trying to determine which parts of my relationship with sex are asexuality, which are trauma, and which are autism is like trying to have a conversation with three people talking loudly and all at once

[burning-academia-if]

Em, thank you so much for sharing your story and creating this blog! Your tumblr account has become a sort of a comfort place for me. I absolutely adore the way you interact with your readers and love the fact that your anons have been respectful (even though I realize that most likely there were some rude and insensitive messages because it is something that goes hand in hand with publishing any sort of art publicly. And if that is the case for you too, my heart goes out to you <3 )

Every time I see a new post here I smile. I love going through your asks (I prefer to make random amount of swipes and just read wherever the scrolling stops, I call it ‘tumblr roulette’ lol, it never fails to surprise me with pieces of information I know I’ve read before but forgot about because my memory isn’t that good).

Your posts from October/November of the last year hold a special place in my heart. Back then I was going through a very harsh time with my job practically sucking out the last droplets of my blood and sanity. I vividly remember standing outside of the building on my lunch break and smoking cig after cig like a chimney (-100000000 out of 10 experience would never recommend) and I swear the moment I was about to burst into tears I got a Tumblr notification of a new post on your blog. It was about Halloween outfits your characters would choose. Despite my state I got slightly amused with some of the choices. I managed to go through the rest of my day without crumbling down completely with the help of the thoughts of your game in the back of my mind. I know it may sound ridiculous but your story and that ask in particular really helped me shift the focus from my struggles and somewhat unwind in a healthy escapism way. 

I’ve been meaning to reach out to you a long ago to thank you but I knew that telling you all of this might not be welcome as we all are strangers here (and not all authors and readers may find it appropriate when some random person on Tumblr dot com overshares and I’m sorry if I made someone uncomfortable). But I just wanted you to know that what you do not only provides some of your fans with a magnificent gaming experience but also a much needed respite from unwanted experiences of reality.

I hope life treats you well, wish you all the luck with your artistic endeavors and always remember that your mental and physical health should always be prioritized! 

This was such a nice message to open tumblr to 😭💚

Honestly, BA was something I started making for my own comfort, especially since I didn't expect to get any traction, but seeing it become a thing of comfort for others has been a really nice experience!

Idk if it's because of the themes of the story or something, but I've genuinely yet to get a rude message yet lol and I'm really appreciative of how nice and relaxed the atmosphere of this blog has been. And I'm glad it's become a place for some people to unwind to.

[iguessitsjustme]

*flips hair* I have never blocked anyone because I'm nosy, but I want to know #4!

What was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

I am also nosy...to my detriment sometimes. Which is why it takes me so long to actually block people that I should probably have blocked a lot sooner. But I do have a story.

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

I've kind of vaguely mentioned this when asked before but I'll talk a tiny bit more specifically here. Not too specific because I'm not trying to start shit buuuuut....also they are definitely not the only person I've blocked but I think they might be the most recent one? I don't know.

About a year(?) ago I had to block a couple of people because they were starting to make me uncomfortable. I was being tagged in all sorts of posts (and to be clear the posts weren't bad, they were even positive! kind posts even) and something about what was happening was rubbing me the wrong way.

Actually before I keep talking about this, I feel like I need to talk a tiny bit about myself because it's important context. This also might surprise people considering how much I overshare on here, but I am, at my core, an extremely private person. I do not like attention. I get anxiety when my follower count goes up here (genuinely love all of my followers and this is definitely a me problem). I live in fear of being secretly recording for some stranger's tiktoks. I don't want my face seen by people. I do not wish to be perceived. It is 100% a trauma response and I am aware of all of this. And this is extremely important to why I blocked these people.

It is slightly easier for me on tumblr than it is in real life, but this is quite literally my safe space that I have built for myself. It's why I'm comfortable sharing things here. I have no issue being tagged in posts. I have no issue with people wanting to talk about things I've said or if they tag me because they want me to see something. So getting tagged in seemingly genuinely kind and positive posts should be fine, right?

Well, yes and no. The posts I was being tagged in felt...hollow to me. Like I was being tagged in an attempt to build a platform instead of because they actually wanted to tag me. I was being tagged in posts thanking me for participating in a fandom which kind of made it seem like the reason I was posting about anything was for accolades and that...is simply not why I'm here. I am not here to gain a following. I am not here to build a platform or to help others build a platform. I am here to post silly little posts about my shows and my life and also now keep track of character's glasses. If I wanted to build a platform, tumblr is not what I would be using (and honestly if I wanted to, I genuinely think I could be pretty successful at building a platform and gaining followers and other platforms. I would consider myself highly marketable if I wanted to go into that industry).

But the last straw for me? What finally did it? Why I finally blocked the people whose vibes have felt off for me and clearly did not know me well enough to know that doing what they were doing was quite literally the opposite of something I am comfortable with? It was when someone (again not naming names because I don't think they had bad intentions but were just so horrendously misguided as to allow themselves to ignorantly do this) who did not follow me, did not reblog any of my posts, did not like any of my posts, had never replied to any of my posts, nor had they ever interacted with my blog or with me in any type of way (I checked because I'm nosy enough and petty enough to have checked that) tagged me in a post. To thank me. For participating in a fandom. And I am not saying anyone has to do any of those things. But if you're gonna tag me to thank me for participating...perhaps maybe at least like one of my posts about the thing you're thanking me for?

To be clear, this was a show that a lot of people were talking about at the time. I was not the only person tagged in these posts. I was for sure not the only person talking about the show. In fact, I probably posted a tenth of what other people posted. If that. And my posts, honestly, weren't very well thought out or coherent. They were my typical little silly posts. And I know people like those. But they weren't the same as what other people were posting. And to be tagged by someone that seemed to only care when it was something that could gain them notes and followers instead of someone who actually enjoyed what I was saying? Felt strange to me. And rather than start beef with a stranger on the internet I blocked them.

Blocking them solved the issue that was making me uncomfortable as peacefully as I felt I could. They no longer had the ability to tag me in strangely performative posts and I didn't start yelling at a stranger and potentially ruin their day. Or start drama that no one else needed to be involved in. I did make a small post about it at the time mostly because I felt so weirded out and I did feel a little bit bad about blocking them. But it was such a quiet thing that no one noticed and everyone moved on with their lives. Made things happier. For me at least. Probably happier for them too.

Choose Violence Ask Game

[syn4k]

also ⚡ (if you're good with it of course)

⚡- What is your headspace like? (If you have one)

(it's gonna be SUCH a struggle to not overshare here but here we go.)

let me preface this by saying:

our headspace is very detailed, very expansive, and very very weird.

it's mostly modeled after minecraft but without the cubes!

there's a multiverse with several pantheons of gods

there's a magic system

i have spent literal years exploring and documenting the ins and outs of this place. it's ANCIENT (don't ask how this relates to our bodily age because i don't know and if i did i wouldn't tell tumblr). there is So Much Going On

but basically:

geography

front, physically, is a small blockhouse that sits at 0,0 in the Overworld. it has one big "window" that takes up the entirety of the south wall that is basically our window into the outer world

there's a cluster of houses around front, which is known as the village of Key East. there's a few single-story residences, a log cabin somewhere, a tent that's larger on the inside than it is the outside, and exy's wizard tower. we're surrounded by a large temperate forest on two sides, the foothills of a mountain range on the third, and a large cliff overlooking an ocean on the fourth.

there are four dimensions in this world: the Overworld, the Nether, the End, and the Void. the first three are based on the Minecraft versions of those dimensions but are greatly expanded and have their own histories. the Void, while slightly based on the game as well, is its own thing and contains multiple layers. if mortals fall into the void, they instantly die

the dimensions are kind of arranged in a triangular pyramid, with each face of the pyramid representing a different dimension

the multiverse

there's a web of universes that expand outwards from the central one, which is the most solid because it has a direct connection to the outside world. as you go outwards from the center, things get shakier and less recognizable. generally, the farthest removed a universe can become from the center is a factor of three, which means it's based on two universes before it that haven't touched the outside world. i drew a diagram of this but i don't have the energy to find it right now

because front is located at the center of the multiverse, we get a lot of travelers and visitors!

some multiverses with a lot of inhabitants that moved here or that visit us a lot include Amador and Earth 1b (colloqially The Bad Timeline).

the pantheon

i'm only going to cover the central universe's pantheon here and only briefly because there is so much going on here

there are two classes of deities: Primordial Deities (who came into being alongside the multiverse at the start of existence) and your average gods (were created by the primordial deities/gods).

there are three primordial deities: life, death, and fate. one of them is a permanent resident of key east and the other two visit often but to protect privacy i'm not giving any names

key east has a fair few of the common gods living here as well, some more major or well-known than others

generally, deities have a domain that they preside over, for example Nature or the Sea. almost all of the major ones have their own established landholdings or dwellings in one of the four dimensions, but the rest of them live scattered amongst the mortals of the world

godly politics are just as insane as mortal ones are with the added caveat of often having gone on for thousands of years. It's the worst thing EVER to try and wrap your head around and I have given up trying.

as a little sub-tangent: mortals can ascend to godhood, but only after being appointed by one of the Primordial Deities and Life and Death have to agree on it.

Fate hasn't been involved in anything for literal billions of years for reasons I won't talk about here but they're chill with that

godly champions can also be granted immortality at the behest of their patrons but it's a very serious and involved process

immortality isn't a "you can't get harmed and you can't cheese the system at all" thing. it's basically Minecraft respawn and all mortals are living on hardcore mode (or just. die normally like people on Earth do). as a rule, gods go down way harder than mortals do but as a result can get tossed into way more tormenting situations

not all gods are worshiped. most of the bigger ones are and some have more than one champion. the minor ones generally don't care and tend to live their lives as normal people with a few extra responsibilities/powers that mortals don't get

[foxys-fantasy-tales]

Writeblr Re-Introduction

I never did this quite right the first time. Get ready, cause this may be a long one. May be oversharing, but hey no character limit and I feel like being super in depth in my soon to be pinned post is on brand. -Ahem-

Hello! You can call me Denise. I use she/her pronouns and I am 32 years old (ancient for Tumblr, I know) with a love for writing fantasy and romance with a lot of dark elements and intrigue. My characters can be messy and sweet and that makes them good to me. I have a lot of bad things happen to my characters, but I like a triumphant tale in the end where at least most people are happy or things turn out alright. I really have fallen for each and every one of my characters and feel the world in general needs some hope in conflict. I am bisexual/biromantic, demisexual/demiromantic, and polyamorous, so a lot of my characters are queer in some fashion. I love writing demi characters and polyam relationships the most so far, though it's taking a bit of build-up to get my first series to that point. My partner (married) is non-binary and I have trans and token cis-het friends and more, so I feel I have a good group helping and reading my books so that my characters come off the page as they should, even if I'm writing a label not my own. I'm also disabled, and in two of my three current projects there is a disabled character present. I only found this out a few years ago, slightly before the pandemic (wooo) and I still have no idea what's causing most of my issues even though doctors have proven something is wrong. I may have an undiagnosable condition with no name yet, so please be patient if I'm not quick to respond or post a lot. I have chronic pain, fatigue, GI issues, and migraines. Going to rattle off some ending facts about myself here. I love playing DnD and have an over two year campaign ongoing right now where I play a sorcerer. I adore cosplaying when I can afford it. I'm addicted to Final Fantasy 14. I still play Pokemon. I have been watching anime since I was about eight years old, which was at the same time I began writing my own stories, so I've been in this for a while now. I hope to always keep improving. I have a BA in English with emphasis in Creative Writing, and though it hasn't served in finding me gainful employment, I hope it helps me in entertaining with my words, which is what I always longed for anyway. All of my works have dark themes, and if you buy my books there will always be a specific trigger warning section in the front so you can make an informed decision. So with that out there, let's talk about my works!

Published Works

Arigale: Spite in the Spirit (Aug. 2021)

Status: Complete and Published

Genres: Epic fantasy, Romance, Action and Adventure Audience: Adult, maybe YA Length: Around 170k words

(gray morality, friends to lovers, exploring a new world, critique on religious extremes, multiple ships to sail, magic galore and a practical armory, apparently a hot villain, LGBTQIA+ Rep (still building on in book two), found family, humor and at times dark humor, Multiple POV ensemble cast)

Judith and Chit are called to the lonely tower outside their city with little explanation. The one who summoned them is an old, elven wizard named Maleth, who will send them on a quest to lower their floating city of Arigale to where it once resided. Maleth is intrigued by Judith’s strange form of necromantic magic, yet he is also certain of the anxious young man in training to be a spearman and scholar.

Judith, a bubbly yet mysterious young woman, is eager to accept. Chit remains withdrawn and cautious, a remnant of being raised by the Order that presides over their land. Soon, both discover their meeting with the wizard carried dire consequences. Can they accomplish what has been asked of them and save Arigale by exploring the land below, no matter the lengths they must go to?

Available at: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Indiebound, and Kobo.

First five chapters are available here on Tumblr for preview! Chapter One - Bonds Chapter Two - Blood Chapter Three - Beseeched Chapter Four - Brazen Chapter Five - Betwixt

I also have a book trailer for this one on Youtube and Tiktok.

Works In Progress

Arigale: Bond in the Blood (WIP)

Aesthetic placeholder for now. The cover is in progress!

(Many of the same tropes as listed above, but more darkness and trauma themes than book one had. Another added romance that is friends to lovers to enemies to ??? You'll have to read to find out!)

Status: Drafting (60%)

Genres: Epic fantasy, Romance, Action and Adventure Audience: Adult, maybe YA Length: Not yet complete - Coming 2023

Judith and Chit's journey across the seas to Galavarn was not as smooth as they had hoped for. The standard of living here is much different than what they encountered on the mainland, and the newfound bond between them will be tested. Enigmas run rampant here, along with a woman from Maleth’s past who claims to hold the key to defeating them for good. Unfortunately, this woman has an unruly and strangely apathetic nature to her, along with a profound hatred toward their distant companion on Arigale. 

Meanwhile, back on the mainland, those left behind must bear their own struggles as a stranger appears and insists on taking one of their number with him. This man with red, sunken eyes bears a sharp grudge against Stemoss and worse obligations to a certain deity. 

Secrets of the past will come to light on this desolate isle, and the friends left behind will struggle to not become a cog in a plan devised long before they were even born.

Made to Taste (WIP)

Made this placeholder cover in Canva, may or may not be final

(critique of racial relations and capitalism, LGBTQIA+ Rep, monsters and mayhem, dark boy and maybe not sunshine but optimistic girl, meet cute, Terrible CEO villains, small business owning woman protag, magical races in modern day, first kiss, ferris wheels, cute confessions and fluffy moments mixed with helping one another during awful ordeals, they were roommates)

Status: Possible series in the works. Book one draft is complete and editing begins soon. Book two draft in progress as well.

Genres: Urban fantasy, Romance, Paranormal Audience: Adult, maybe YA Length: Not yet complete - Book One possible in 2023

When Lyra Morley accepted a rough and tumble new hire from her bar, she didn't think he would end up her new roommate in a week. Noel Akatash brings his own debts, and the people holding the accounts aren't to be trifled with. Magical home invasions aside, Lyra is more worried about her business serving the city nightlife any food she can handle all made to order.

Cooking with a halfbreed's sense of smell comes with its perks, and one of them is that she can hide her skills in the kitchen so no one is any wiser about her true nature. The night-only diner called Made to Taste is meant to be a haven for those the city would rather keep buried. Lyra, the pacifist and abstinent dhampir, would fight to keep it safe. Good thing Noel knows a thing or two about being scrappy.

Dream Escape (WIP)

Another aesthetic placeholder for now, but I have a cover in mind

(dreams vs reality, learning to cope, TW: suicidal themes are major part of this book, disenchantment, finding your purpose, joy in the little things is better than no joy at all, painting and artistry used to convey these themes, portal/dreamscape fantasy, Alice in Wonderland vibes, enemies to friends to lovers) Status: Plotting stage

Genres: Urban fantasy, Romance, Drama Audience: Adult, maybe YA Length: Not yet complete - No determined release YET - Standalone novel around 80k words

Emma Reed, 26, has a Master of the Arts and no place to put it but in her desk drawer. Once proud of her accomplishment, the lights quickly dimmed when she ended up living back in her old childhood bedroom at her parents place and flat broke. Helping Adrien with graphics for their streaming or Sarah with banners for her pet business is all well and good, but it's not at all how she imagined scrapping by. When her newest piece is rejected from the gallery she had finally convinced to give her a chance, Emma hits a downward spiral.

When she awakens, she finds herself in a strange new world with a strange man hovering around her. He calls himself Jasper, a dream painter, and quickly proves his prowess at sculpting others' dreams. Emma was in his care, but though he's petitioned her to wake up, she can't. Neither knows how she ended up in this place, but surrounded by the dreams of others quite literally brought to life around her, Emma makes the decision to stay.

Jasper won't let her. For one, if she stays there is no telling how badly that could go for her, or for his hopes of a promotion. Emma goes along with his plan to cart her across this new place, more as a sightseeing tour than the arduous task he finds it to be. Along the way, a bit of the light comes back into her eyes, and he can't help but remember how bright they both used to shine. Dulled and muddied palettes that they both became, can they start over?

Links & Socials

Find out all the info you need for Arigale, with pages for my other works upcoming when they are closer to release dates at my website.

You can support me with my illness and with saving for promotion, editing, and artwork for my writing over on Ko-Fi.

You can also find me being a struggling writer, but also a huge geek who loves DnD, anime, cosplay, RPGs, Otome, and more here on Tumblr and over on my other socials at Twitter, Tiktok, and sporadically on Instagram.

My Tags

I haven't been great at using these, but I'm going to try and be better.

#Arigale - for anything related to my Arigale series

#Made to Taste - for anything related to Made to Taste series

#Dream Escape - for anything related to my standalone titled such

#Writer Woes - for rants or jokes about how hard this can be

#Writer Advice - to take with a grain of salt please

#Mental Mess - when I have a bad mental health day

#Physical Mess - when I have a bad physical health day

#Free Commentary - When I reblog with additions in tags

And I'll of course be using #Writeblr #Booklr and other necessary tags as well when called for.

[consolecadet]

I was really not prepared to participate in an art show! I didn't have a bad time, I just had no idea what to expect, and also should have worn much more comfortable shoes.

I got there right on time for the members-only hour, earlier than almost anyone else. They gave me a name tag with a photo of my painting printed in the background. While it was still quiet, multiple members of the art org's staff pulled me aside to introduce themselves and...tell me what they thought of my painting, basically? Got some comments like "A lot of us really liked it" (great), "It might make some people uncomfortable, but it's memorable and intense and that's what makes art valuable" (thanks), "I know it's trite to say this but it is very visceral" (yeah!), and "the teens were in here the other day to judge the youth committee prize and you got a lot of sticky notes next to yours" (cool). I was mostly kind of uncomfortable, but I can see how this sort of thing could quickly become a person's personal cocaine.

An upbeat local media producer with deep mauve eye bags interviewed me and the artist whose painting was next to mine (she had painted a beautiful, slightly abstracted forest landscape of Falmouth, Maine). This was the part I was really unprepared for! Fortunately I've had to explain the painting to people a few times, since I worked on it during Open Hacks around other people...but this was a much artier crowd, and despite technically knowing how, I really don't want to talk about it like "I'm juxtaposing familiar objects with a transgressive concept to blah blah blah etc". He was like "man, my insurance won't approve shit, we gotta nationalize healthcare" which, so right.

The gallery quickly got extremely crowded and, because the sun was blasting in through the enormous picture windows, extremely hot. I wandered around looking at everything. My favorite works were "All Bagged Up", a 3d wall piece of pink expanding foam with bags of candy and toys tacked to it, "Self-Discipline #23", a pair of charcoal self-portraits of the artist wearing a bondage mask, and "Resilience", an mixed media painting with mesmerizing swirls of green and blue iridescent paint.

I had to take some daily meds at 6 and -- I swear this was not on purpose -- spilled all the fucking pills from my pill-shaped pill case onto the floor. On brand, I guess?

KC came partway through and brought me a big bundle of sweet-smelling lilacs from his workplace's backyard. <3

I met someone who recognized me from a FB group I'm in for fat people in the Boston area. She'd painted a self-portrait of her squeezing her waist extremely tightly with a leather belt. She asked to hang out (!) and followed me on Instagram. I followed her back. She has 25k followers and I'm a little intimidated.

Several people found me to say they found my painting relatable, which was nice. One woman told me about her chronic pain and told me, sounding a bit constricted in her throat, that she wished more people would talk about and make art about this stuff. I am really used to people oversharing about very personal topics in the tags on my posts, but it's another thing entirely to experience someone's response to your thoughts or art IRL. Unlike Tumblr, though, nobody said anything unkind to my face!

My feet got so sore. I was so sweaty. I got an honorable mention from the Youth Committee of tweens and teens. Fat positive belt lady got the Youth Committee prize. We...hugged about it?

I felt somewhat out of my depth -- some of the artists priced a lot higher than I would be comfortable charging, some of the art was much more technically advanced than mine, and some of the artists' statements were much more, uh, Art School. I feel I did not schmooze very effectively. But I would try doing this again!

[jennilah]

this is a fad on twitter all the time, but now that tumblr has polls, im stealing it

what are ur impressions of me? what vibes do i give off over here after like 10 years of oversharing? 👁👄👁

[times-eclipse]

Thought Debris on Social Media

Hmm.

Things seem... unstable internally, for Twitter, huh. We don't think anything big and dramatic is going to happen -- rather, we think we're going to look at Twitter one day and not realise no one is in the office, and the only thing keeping the site running is the ever-ticking machinery of The Cloud.

And that lasts only for so long.

We (collectively) should never have all moved to "the only site that exists on the internet". This applies to Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, take your pick. A singular, global website simply isn't fit for how our brains work.

We all felt we had to be on the same site, because within our own circles that's all we could conceive. It was our entire World. "Everyone" you could comprehend was on [insert fansite forum here]. So "everyone" should come to Twitter (or whatever else) too, right?

The problem with this is that everyone else's "Conceivable World" did the same. And after 10 years of this, we're unable to separate our worlds. We have to keep making websites for everyone, ever. We're afraid to have separate places again, because that would take work.

We've had friends straight up say they don't want to go back to having to manage different websites. It's frankly rather insulting, but it highlights a degree of laziness and entitlement towards the status quo we've found ourselves in.

Some people have thrived on this transition to social media. The narcissists whom have built their presence on virality, or simply through the lottery lucked out on getting an audience that spreads their words and works far and wide. No one else can hope to catch up.

This is not just about the influencers or the bigots or such. Even a few artists happen upon popularity seemingly by a chance snowballing that has no consistent repeatability.

Yes, we (I) admit to being slightly bitter and envious of those that have this. But this is simply because we have reached a point where it feels like even our oldest friends aren't seeing what we post.

Unfortunately capitalism knows this, and built a system to exploit this. To lend this situation the most sympathetic view, people who managed to thrive on virality cannot go back to the days of forums and the like. They need the eyes and customers. If they don't have that continued scope, they cannot afford necessities. Some can't afford it now even with four-digit follower counts.

We're (collectively) so used to sharing anything and everything to these single websites too. Things can go viral simply for being random daily observations or funny videos. Previously such things had to jump different channels, newsgroups, whatever, to do that. Now things are so easy to share that we've begun treating such things as fundamental to human communication, but they're frankly bizarre.

We're (I'm) honestly not sure how things might go. Maybe a sudden shift results in both artists and their customers moving back to art sites, despite their hesitation. Maybe we'll all stop oversharing on these metaphorical playgrounds and learn to put things once again in private chatrooms.

Or maybe Twitter will stay aloft on a Cloud, and we (collectively) will continue to not escape the hell we didn't notice was being built around us.

We (I) just want friends to be seeing the things we make again.

[donutloverxo]

Stevie's new beard

*gif by @marvelheroes*

Birthday shot #2 & Kinktober day 8 - Beard kink

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - You have some strong feelings about Steve’s new look.

Warnings - 18+ only please, smut(m/f), dom Steve, daddy kink.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x female reader

Word count - 2.5k

Masterlists are linked in the bio!

One more swift turn over the corner, your eyes squinting as you tried to concentrate, “That’ll show him,” grumbling under your breathe, pressing the scissors down, “done.” With a smirk on your face.

You had been working on cutting out Steve’s face from your honeymoon album. An album you had spent hours on, your blood, sweet and tears, literally, you must’ve gotten like five paper cuts working on it. But none of that mattered. You were mad.

No, you were fuming.

The previous year, you hadn’t been able to celebrate your birthday with Steve since he was called on an emergency mission. Which was fine at the time you had only been dating for a few weeks. And when he went to Siberia over a month ago, you thought he’d be back for your birthday for sure. Then you’d get to have him pamper you and baby you for the whole day, not that you needed such an excuse, but still.

It was one in the morning, your birthday had already started and you doubted that Steve would be able to make it. He had gone silent a week ago, for his teams and your safety.

Well, by the time he’s back you’ll have cut him out of all your pictures. Maybe you’d even go stay at your sister’s for a while. You missed her and needed a vacation and teach Steve a lesson. You wouldn’t be back until he’s growling on his knees - begging for your forgiveness.

Or maybe... he wouldn’t care. Maybe he’d be glad that you’re gone. You didn’t know what you’d do if that happened, you always seem to be weighing him down. You understood that being married to Captain America meant that you had to share him with the rest of the world. Most of times, you were alright with that. You didn’t care much for the Captain, he was fine but he was no Steve Rogers.

You sighed, giving up on your little project, thinking about maybe calling it a night. Hopefully your friends remember your birthday and do something special for you.

Slipping into Steve’s t-shirt – because as much as you were mad at him, you really did miss him. This was the longest you had been away from him.

Fluffing your pillow, keeping Mister Steebie next to you, you climbed on top of it. Ready to switch off the lights -

“Hey there, sweetheart,” you gasped when you heard the low rumble, clutching your neck, taken aback and panting.

Taking a deep breathe, you looked at your door over your shoulder, sighing when you noticed it’s Steve.

Except it wasn’t...?

“What the fuck?” you frowned and did a double take.

Getting off your bed and walking over to the door. He was still dressed in his dark stealth suit, his dirty blonde hair swept back, his jaw covered in a thick beard - a few shades darker than his hair.

You stopped a few steps away from him, taking in his new look. You didn’t know what to make of it but it did make you shiver - for some reason.

Your lips pressed in a flat line as you stared at him. He spread his arms out, in an attempt to hug you, probably, trying to close the distance between you but you took a step back. Eyeing him suspiciously.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he tilted his head to the side, giving you his Disney eyes.

“What’s wrong with your face?” you spat.

“What do you mean?” his eyebrows scrunched together as he rubbed a hand over his beard.

“Don’t do that!” you admonished him, folding your hands under your titts, perking them up.

“Do what?” scratching his beard, “You’re not making any sense, doll. Didn’t you miss me?”

“I did,” you huffed, “Do you know what date it is?”

“Yes, I do know. That’s why I’m here. I got back as soon as the mission wrapped up. Now come here and let me give you a birthday kiss,” extending an arm towards you.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head.

“Why?” he pouted. “I made it back in time, just like I said I would. I missed you, come on just one kiss... wait a minute. Is this about the beard?” You nodded. “You hate it? Tony said you would, I just didn’t have time to shave. I’ll go do it now then.” Since he was desperate for kisses and cuddles.

“No, don’t!” You pressed a palm on his chest, in an effort to stop him. “I mean, sure if you want to... but I don’t hate it. It’s kind of the opposite... I think. I just need time to process this.”

“Doll,” he exasperated, sighing, 'politely’ trying to tell you off. “I’m tired. And you’re really not making any sense.”

“I just fucking love your beard, ok!” you snapped. Your cheeks heating up at the brash confession. Clenching your thighs together. You shouldn’t like it as much as you did. It hides Steve’s beautiful face and makes him look so feral and dangerous. So not Steve.

“Really?” he quirked a brow, pulling you flush against his chest, “how much do you like it, puppy?”

“I - I don’t know...” Still embarrassed, you hide your face over his heart, rubbing your cheek against the rough kevlar of his suit. “I like it a lot, I think. Please keep it?”

He hummed, “But you won’t even look at me.”

“It’s a lot to take in, okay? It’s like, ugh remember when you saw me in my wedding dress?”

He'd never forget, he had cried like a baby. “This is nothing like that,” he rolled his eyes.

“It’s... give me some time. Small steps.” Bringing up a shaky hand to touch his soft fuzzy jaw, “Oh! Remember that time I bought that forties style nightie. And you went to town on me?” looking up at him, “This is like that.”

He nodded, finally understanding. “I get it, doll. But I’m afraid I don’t have time for ‘small steps’. I missed you so much,” Rutting his erection into your belly - as if to physically prove it. “And I need to make your birthday special. Treat the birthday girl right, huh?” He pressed his thumb on your cheekbone, caressing it, dipping his neck down to kiss you but you pulled away.

You hugged him again, standing on your tippy toes and nuzzling your nose in the crook his neck, his beard tickling you ever so slightly.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it. That I’d be all alone.” You whined. And then he comes back looking this good! Making it impossible for you to stay mad at him.

“Of course, I made it. Couldn’t let my best girl be alone. Now let me kiss you,” you shook your head again, “fine then. We can do your small steps. Let me eat you out,” biting the shell of your ear, “I’m hungry, doll.”

There was no way you could say no to that. “Oh - okay,” you gulped a huge lump of air.

Suddenly, he swept you off your feet, throwing you over his shoulder, his hand kneading your ass before smacking it, “Missed this sweet ass too.” he said, throwing you on top of the mattress. “I like this shirt on you, pup,” he smiled, his heart swelled as he felt strangely possessive of you, hovering above you, “But it had to come off.”

With a lack of finesse, his greedy hands ripped the poor clothing to shreds. He hadn’t gone so long without you. He needed to be inside you as soon as he could.

“Stevie!” You tried to chastise him.

He threw the shirt away, growling at the sight of your naked breasts, your hard pebbles, your hands coming up to cover them from his dark eyes. That won’t do, he pulled them away, pinning them beside your head. “What do you think you’re doing?” he frowned

You shuddered. Really, a beard shouldn’t make that much of a significant difference but it made him all the more intimidating. “Sorry, daddy.” You pouted. If nothing else, the D-word always worked.

He shook his head, capturing a nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. He made sure to run his beard over your breast. Letting go of your twisting hand as it clenched on the back of his head. Your back arching, pushing more your body to him.

With a loud ‘pop’ he let go of your hard nub, shoving two fingers in your mouth and ordering you to suck and like he obedient doll you were - you followed.

He pulled his fingers out, snaking his hand between your legs, dipping them in your heat. Then he noticed it and frowned.

Looking to his side, a sack of flour? No, looked fluffy enough to be cotton. “What is this?” he wanted to know.

You were too far gone to even register his words but you vaguely heard him. You bit your lip, following his eyes. “Oh, that’s Mister Steebie.”

“What?”

“That’s you. I missed you and I needed a cuddle buddy. So I stuffed some cotton in a sack, dressed him in your flannel and drew your face on him.”

His 'face' was just two dots with a blue sharpie, golden hair on his head and a pink mouth. “It’s cute.” he chuckled, grabbing ‘Steebie' and putting him on the floor, “But you don’t need him. You have the real thing now,” he reminded you, trailing kisses down your body, pushing your thighs apart to make room for him and settling between them.

“I suppose I should upgrade him now. Draw the beard on. I wonder if I have a brown sharpie,” you mused, yelping when you felt his teeth grazing over your clit. “God!” you heaved, propping yourself up on your elbows you looked down at him. A few strands of his hair had fallen on his forehead, he looked ethereal. “You’re so pretty, Stevie.” Your hand caressing his face.

He leaned into it, having been touch starved for over a month. “You’re the pretty one, pup. Now, will you be good for me? Let me treat my birthday girl right?”

You nodded. Laying back down, running your fingers through his longer locks.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” he asked

“No, I followed your rules.”

“Good, I didn’t either.” Not that he had the time or space to anyway. But he wanted to save himself for you.

“Thor told me, women like a nice thick beard,” rubbing his face on your inner thighs, “he’s a bit of an oversharer. But I knew you’d like it too. Guess I was right.” He was smug about it too. He knew you inside and out. More than anybody else, maybe more than you know yourself.

He pushed your thighs apart as you squirmed above him, trying to clamp them on his head. “Now, sweetheart. I thought you promised to be good. Do I need to tie you up?”

You furiously shook your head. “No, please! I’ll be good.” Normally, you’d love to be tied up. But you needed to touch him, his face and his hair.

“I know it’s hard, pup, just try a little harder,” He tongue nudging at your entrance. His fingers spreading your lips apart, “such a pretty pussy,” he praised.

Wrapping his mouth around your clit and pushing his fingers in your pussy. He made sure to gather as much of your slick over his beard as he could, to make a mess of it.

You threw your head back, trying your best to stay still, it was too overwhelming, too good, “Stevie! Stop, stop please,” you begged, pulling on his hair.

He immediately pulled away, hovering back over you, inspecting you for any distress.

“I want to come with you inside me. Please.” you said, fluttering your lashes.

He sighed, “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Come on! It’s my birthday. You have to do as I say,” you giggled.

“As you wish,” he shook his head. He would’ve given in even if it wasn’t your birthday.

His fingers scrambling to get his dick out of his suit. Kissing your neck, sucking on your special spot, he pushed inside you. Digging his fingers in your hips, he bit your neck, “So fucking tight, doll.” He groaned, he was at the end of his rope, he couldn’t take it anymore, snapping his hips with a swift thrust he buried himself inside you.

“Stevie,” you mewled, feeling his tip pressing against your special spot. “Right there!”

Pulling his cock out and then pushing back, “Here?” he wiggled his hips, pressing his lips to your jaw.

“Yeah,” you gave a shaky reply. Already on the edge as he kept ramming in on your g-spot. “Steve, kiss me please?” You needed to feel his lips on yours, to feel his beards on your face.

Circling a hand under your waist to pull you up and closer to him, his hips setting a punishing pace, he crashed his lips on yours. Clashing your teeth together. He moaned as you pulled his bottom lip with your teeth, before kissing him again.

Letting go of his lips, just for a second to pepper kisses all over his beard and then kissing him deeply.

You clenched around his length, pulling his hair, biting the hilt to his jaw to stifle your scream. Waves of pleasure crashing over you one after another.

He came right after you, with a few more thrusts, filling you to the brim. He collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you.

He laid beside you, on his side your bodies still connected. He couldn’t have any of his spend escaping your tight cunt.

He kissed the crown of your head. “You liked your first gift?” he asked as you hummed. “Don’t worry, I got plenty more for you.” he smirked already feeling himself get hard again in your pussy.

When you were quiet for a while, so unusual for you, your fingers playing with his beard, “What’s wrong, pup?” He tilted your face up so he could see it.

“Nothing,” you shook your head. Suddenly feeling guilty for ruining your precious pictures. “They need you more than I ever will - your team and this world.”

“That’s... true. You don’t need me. You’re a strong woman, if anything I need you. But that’s a good thing, sweetheart. You want me. And that's enough for me.”

“Really?” Your lips curling up in a big grin as you nuzzled his beard, feeling awfully proud of yourself.

Steve’s heart was big enough to share him with the entire world. That he could still love you more than you could even begin to comprehend. And always make his way back to you. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

[norcumii]

Well that was a bout of PTSD I wasn’t expecting.

Ramblings under the cut so I can find it again later, warnings for: abuse, abusive relationship, probable incoherence, likely oversharing, (urge to) self-harm.

I’ve been dipping my toes back into RvB this week – I’ve seen seasons 1-3 countless times, 4 slightly less but still a lot, and everything else once.

The Ex’s issues included not wanting to venture too far into various media, but he sure did love rewatching what he had seen. That’s part of why once I got free, I made myself sit down and watch the rest – I basically spite-binged seasons 5-13, dissociating through at least the second half because I had so many mental warning bells clanging about how I was misbehaving, cheating by watching ahead without him, how dare I.

Had a shit time sleeping that week, too, but at least the sleep dep was familiar and helped me power through the emotional upset.

Loved the show, too – that doesn’t surprise me in the least, given how I already appreciated the writing and I’ve had several folks singing high praises of the further writing. I had quite a few “holy SHIT” moments, those ‘gotta pause and marvel and breathe “what the FUCK you magnificent ASSHOLES” timeouts,’ y’know, where you gotta stop to walk off some feels and just be awed at writing and performing SKILLS? And that was with the dissociation.

I honestly don’t know how yesterday I stumbled over a set of videos of a gentleman reacting to his first watch of RvB. Of course I immediately went to the super significant episodes, because I was curious as how The Big Moments hit someone else – I watched in a vacuum, squeaking at Tumblr and powering forward before my brain caught up and devoured me.

Anyway, yeah, I’ve been enjoying watching delightfully screechy man react to familiar storylines and jokes, then I realized I desperately wanted to see how he reacted to the end of Season 10, because that was when I had the biggest reaction, personally, and I spent quite awhile chewing over my thoughts and the themes and whatnot. I mean, it’s the end of the major/first storyline, it wraps up YEARS of plot and character arcs, and it’s just fucking balls-to-the-walls AMAZING.

I cackled so much watching this man lose his absolute shit. I was grinning a mile wide when he screeched like an actual banshee and had to take a lap around the room.

I was starting to feel funny as he waxed rhapsodic through the credits. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a lot of what he was saying matched much of my own thoughts at the time when first seeing it, but then he segued into how he’d gotten into RvB via RWBY, and that wasn’t my experience.

(I couldn’t understand why I was feeling so unsettled – I have absolutely no reason to feel wonky about how one gets into a fandom.)

He was still gushing as the post-credit scenes rolled, and I was shook because I don’t think I watched them.

(I’m not surprised – I know I had to stop watching rather abruptly. It was probably super late and I do recall Himself’s shadow looming hard to gnaw at my brain.)

The lovely YouTube gentleman was right back to unending adoration after them, just crying for joy about his love for RWBY and RvB, and I just...started crying.

It wasn’t good crying. It was ugly crying that wouldn’t stop, kept building with that wheezing, rusty-hinge keen that would be a scream if you push from breathing to speaking; crumpling up and finding the old urge to claw spiraling up along with it.

I’m fine. I didn’t, honest.

The emotion is still lurking, even now, after much bawling and a walk to try to redirect whatever the fuck that was. I think the base is a bit of despair, shored up with oceans of grief. Helplessness neutering much of the fury, all wrapped up with threads of sneering incredulity.

I couldn’t understand at first, why I was choking out “We could’ve had this.” I had to puzzle through that bawling which hard experience kept as silent as possible.

We could’ve had this.

This man has so much enthusiastic love for this show. He’s just...JOYOUS about it, open and awed and gleeful.

We never had that. We never could screech in delight about things at each other – any attempts ended in an ugly argument, usually about spoilers (fuck you, dude, if you didn’t want me speculating which you specifically wanted me to be good at in other contexts then don’t start speculating yourself!). Often about words – he had so many words, so many concepts that were taboo, and gods help the poor bastard what stumbled into a synonym Himself thought should be obvious and therefore also taboo instead of a necessary dodge because communication is a thing.

(Was this a concept that was enough degrees separate to satisfy him, or would it lead to a scolding about trying to sabotage his joy? Again. Like always.)

(Not just the scolding, but the demands – how could I be so cruel, WHY had this happened, no – no he wouldn’t accept that I’m too smart to think like that, or I had promised not to do the next door neighbor to it which is as good as promising not to do it either, what was the real reason we’re going to be here until he got his truth. No matter HOW many hours it took.)

We could’ve had this. We could’ve shared things, not Himself serving out appropriate sized dollops of what he liked while I limited myself to whatever I could speculate would be appropriately sized reactions.

I couldn’t enjoy something we shared too much. I couldn’t laugh too loud because it would distract from the moment. His joy always had to come first and how fucking DARE I impinge upon it even one iota?

No, really, I had to confess, and if he didn’t believe the answer it would not be accepted.

I got so tired of lying. I got so tired of being accused of lying when it was truth, and only believed when it was fake.

That’s one of the reasons why arguments went on for hours. I could only grit my teeth and ‘yes sir no sir three bags full sir, obviously I did it to fuck you over sir’ for so long.

My reasons were never good enough.

My joy always ended up being too much.

We could’ve had this – but his world, his joy, was never big enough for anyone but him.

[dwimmerlaiks]

I haven’t read any fic (oh there was one witcher fic exception I think! Lol) in nearly two years because I just didn’t have the time or just. Stopped being able to read. Like, transient illiteracy maybe; which actually suprised me because: pandemic. If there’s One coping mechanism I should be able to fall straight back into it should be this right? Anyway, everything right now is so stressful, I’m being very dramatic about it (pandemic-unrelated-stress or: as much as it can be) and I’ve just wanted something that could make me get out of my head for a little bit for once. but I’ve felt lost bc I don’t have any ongoing escapist/random things happening so yeah not to beat around the bush but I’ve started reading SPN fic?? It’s nice haha??. Like, SUPER WEIRD. I don’t know what’s going on. Literally: The last time I’ve watched the actual show was 2009 I think ??? (On like, megaupload lol) And I haven’t been on tumblr for the early superwholock days and totally tuned it out during the latter days so I don’t have MUCH immediate or peripheral fandom trauma and I did honestly enjoy SPN in 2005. (I’m trying to insert a disclaimer here of some sort but can’t come up with anything) And with the whole mini fandom renaissance I’ve just seen a lot of stuff and posts and memes about it and I think that’s what when I was looking for real proto fandom content, like we’re talking primordial-fandom-soup type of undistilled type of content- SPN is what came to mind. It feels very soothing to read in a way, if also slightly uhhhh overwhelming in terms of sheer mass??. I’m also trying to check myself on whether I’m immediately overdoing the escapism thing by merging it with dangerous amounts of unchecked nostalgia but I’m mostly ignoring that thought.

Anyway that’s it for my overshare for today; if you do have any ficrecs though I would be so grateful always!!

[potentially-lemongrass]

hey! um i wanted to ask a bi queerstake member whose dated about this, um I want to marry in the temple and I know that means I'll have to marry a AMAB person, is it bad that I want a nb/nb aligned masc person or at least a bisexual or asexual partner? i feel like i wont find someone like that, I just want someone who understands and is also queer but also fits kind of with the church narrative. is that weird? you dont have to answer this I just wanted to ask since no one talks about it i guess

honestly my perspective on dating has changed a lot since meeting B so I might say something completely different to what I was saying in previous months. (and of course, as always, this is just Ryn’s Opinion TM so take what you will). Also, looong post incoming as this is also a bit of a life update/journal entry since it’s been a while. I’m using B to respect his privacy and as always, I know that i’m super personal on here but please don’t try to doxx me or find out more than I’m willing to share <3 I’m slightly paranoid so I feel like I always need to say that. 

ANYWAY, I am still decidedly bisexual ✌ and so I’ll fight against bi erasure all day long since I’m a cis woman dating a cishet man. I will never be a straight woman and B totally understands and respects that. However, it also doesn’t exactly matter?? since I’ve chosen him so I’m not dating any men OR women.

Before meeting him, I was thinking about dating in the abstract especially since I really never had a serious relationship with anyone. I was fantasizing about dating girls and feeling deeply cheated that the Church was robbing me of that opportunity. I was angry, deeply depressed, and just generally not in a good mental place.

Coming to college was when I decided I wasn’t mentally going to “do” Church anymore. I skipped a few Sundays, and still signed up for Institute but I was angry and very determined to distance myself from the Church. I had to know if I even wanted to do this with my life and part of my master plan was getting a girlfriend. (although with the caveat that dating a girl, *just* to date a girl and not a guy, isn’t the best plan and I should have been more focused on romance)

I didn’t expect to meet B and when I did, I was deeply worried about getting a man who was “Peter Priesthood” and I would never be able to share my queer identity with him. B isn’t at all like that. He spent enough time around the queer kids in high school to really get a feel for the struggle and he’s never ever made me feel weird about it. He’s even encouraged and asked me to talk about it so I didn’t feel like I had to hide anything.

I came to two conclusions (well, maybe two and a half). 1) I’m definitely bisexual. Over the summer, I had briefly wondered if I was a lesbian and comp het was just taking its toll. Nope. Men are hot and my bf is absolutely a snack. So if anyone is looking for advice about figuring out sexuality, just try dating someone. I totally believe that you can know your sexuality without experience but it most definitely helps if you know what you’re talking about.

2) I missed church. I hadn’t realized it until I walked away but I truly do have a testimony and I longed for the presence of the Spirit in my life. So I chose to turn back. I read my scriptures and prayed sincerely and listened at church. No, I’m not entirely happy with the Church. There are things that make me cry and cringe and grit my teeth, but I have decided that I want to be here.

Part of that realization was B. My friend asked me if I could see myself getting married in the temple and I realized suddenly that I could. Suddenly it wasn’t a faceless man dragging me into a suburban life of mommy minivans and LDS conformity. It was the thought of B and I, holding hands and promising each other forever in the most eternal sense and it was me, making covenants with Heavenly Father. He and I both know that I’ve always had real joy in my life when I was doing my best to keep His commandments.

What I really needed was to accept my queer identity and feel like I could date girls if I wanted to. Finding B and finding my testimony were linked, as wild it is to say.

Not to say that that road would be easy. I’m not even close to being ready for marriage. B and I are figuring things out, both between us and with the Church. If faith was neat and simple, it wouldn’t be such an enduring theme throughout all of history.

 But maybe sometime in the next 5 years? Maybe in 2-3 years? I might be Mrs. Lemongrass. (pffft yes we’ll assume we’re taking my tumblr url as a last name lmao)

SO now you’re wondering about how that applies to your actual question. There will definitely be people in the Church who match what you’re looking for. My philosophy is that there really is someone out there for everyone. You’re trying to forecast for the future which is great and necessary but love doesn’t happen in the abstract. A Relationship TM isn’t some nebulous concept or a copy and paste letter. It’s what happens when you and a specific other person like each other a whole lot and it goes from there. Your relationship won’t look like mine or your parents or anyone else’s because you and your future partner are unique people.

So you totally may find someone in the Church who is queer and down for a temple marriage. Keep in mind as well that you may also find someone in the Church who is cishet and that works too. Just because someone isn’t queer doesn’t mean they can’t understand--assuming no one will ever understand you has always felt arrogant and dismissive of the power of empathy imho--so a cishet guy could be just as amazing.

So there’s no need to feel bad about wanting a specific type of person but don’t close yourself off! Enjoy the journey and put yourself out there with confidence. No one is good at relationships; they’re inherently awkward. You’ll say dumb stuff or fart in front of them or they’ll overshare and you’ll panic. Just trust the process, laugh at yourself, and realize the only thing you can really do is live in *this* moment. I hope this doesn’t sound condescending at all! This is just all my big sister advice that I can think of. Remember that you are loved, always, always, always by our Heavenly Parents and They’ll help you figure stuff out.

[hydra-collector]

love & death & kisses

AO3

Pairings: Anxceit, platonic Analogical

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Janus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders (mentioned), Remus Sanders (mentioned)

TW: suicide attempts, self-harm, cursing, panic attacks, v v v slightly implied sexual content, food

Words: 4,153

Summary: Virgil meets someone.

Note: Human AU, I’m bad at naming, bad at summaries, Janus is ooc, i swear this is one of my better fics

Rain seeped into Virgil’s clothes, making him even colder than he already was. He’d forgotten his umbrella at work, so he’d have to get it tomorrow. Funny how things work that way. You put things off to the side for a rainy day, but when you need them they’re not there.

A tall, slim man stood beside him. He would usually avoid other people at the train station as much as he could, but he didn’t care at this point. He was cold, tired, in a depressive episode, and frankly too out of it to care.

The other man didn’t have an umbrella either, but seemed much less bothered by it. He checked his phone occasionally, but only typed something once or twice, aside from a seemingly frustrating venture on Google Maps from what Virgil could see. He was more on edge by whatever he was seeing on his phone than the weather.

“Excuse me, do you know where the nearest hotel is?”

The first thing he noticed was that the man was absolutely beautiful.

The second was his scar.

A wide scar, seemingly a burn mark, covered the entirety of the left side of his face. It traveled down his neck and past his shirt where Virgil couldn’t see it. His left hand had it as well, a pair of gloves stuffed in his pocket. His eyes were also heterochromatic, one much paler than the dark brown of the other.

Virgil didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially after the earlier events of the day, but he tried his best. He subtly hugged his side to provide pressure comfort.

“I think there’s one a couple blocks from Edwards Station. I don’t remember if it’s south or north. I can check.”

Virgil pulled out his own phone and found that it was half a mile north. Logan had sent him a text asking him why he was so late. He didn’t want to explain that he had to spend an hour on a bench in the pouring rain, trying to calm down from a panic attack. The stranger confirmed and checked his phone again, sighing when he didn’t find what he wanted.

Virgil could see his screen slightly. He’d been talking to a contact named April, both of them using a lot of cursewords angrily at each other. It looked like a pretty bad breakup. He figured he’d been kicked out.

The train arrived a few minutes after that. Virgil was never going to be comfortable with the thought of a big, heavy object rocketing in his general direction, but he wasn’t attempting suicide or anything at the moment. He learned to deal with it.

“Sorry, Logan, I’m here now.”

Logan had been Virgil’s roommate for almost three years now. He’d been his best friend even longer. He was the one there for him when he needed it most.

“What happened?”

Logan was making dinner for the two of them, which Virgil was disappointed to find out. The rule was they could make each other meals, but whoever made it got to choose what it was, and Virgil has never known Logan to make anything junkier than chili. Virgil had got him to eat macaroni and cheese a few times, so he counted that as a win.

“I… had a pretty bad panic attack.”

“Is there anything I can do to help now?”

“I think I’ll be okay. You don’t give bad hugs, though.”

Logan smiled slightly and hugged his friend firmly. He’d looked up the best ways to comfort people physically and figured out what was best for Virgil.

“Thanks, L. What’s for dinner?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to make it yourself.”

“Hey, you have plenty! You’re using two pans!”

“You hate fish, Virgil.”

“That’s fish? Ew.”

“What did you think it was?”

Virgil shrugged.

“Go get dry clothes.”

Virgil changed into another, softer hoodie and sweatpants. He figured he’d get something to eat later. He could go a couple hours scrolling on Tumblr or something before he’d be really hungry.

When he turned his phone on, it was still open to the hotel directions.

I hope that guy’s alright.

He’d seen him a few times before, he realized. The unmistakable bleached hair against the man’s dark clothing he recognized had never been put to a face, but he’d been at the train station a few times before. Virgil vaguely wondered if he got off work at the same time as he did and it was a coincidence seeing him today since his whole thing with April, or whoever.

You don’t know what happened, shut up.

Virgil squeezed his arm with his fingernails, hoping to make his self-hate go away.

Today was exhausting.

He didn’t want to go to work the next day.

~~

He’d had another bad day. His boss complained about the quality of his work again. It seemed he was fucking everything up lately. He’d gotten Roman angry at him for an insult accidentally personal, and Logan angry at him because he’d started cutting again. Who could blame him, though? It was just so much easier to cope by hurting than actually trying to help himself. At least he was still showering.

At least it wasn’t raining.

It felt like it, though. There was weight on his shoulders and chest, and he needed to cry. He wished he could afford a therapist. Then again, did he even deserve help?

Stop.

His inner voice was right. He should stop being so self-deprecating, it was annoying, he’d always been an attention seek-

Stop.

Virgil exhaled, rubbing his forehead and sitting down on the bench instead of standing for the train.

“Didn’t get to thank you. For the directions.”

“Hm?”

It was the man again. This was the first time he’d seen him in the few days since then.

“I needed a place to stay, thanks for telling me where it was. I tried looking it up, then texting my girlfriend to ask her if… I ran out of data, I wouldn’t have been able to get there if you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh. You’re welcome. Glad you found the hotel.”

He half-wished he didn’t have to talk to anyone right now, but something drew him towards this man.

And then he initiated a conversation. For once in his life.

“You just get off work?”

“Yeah. I work at the zoo. Reptile house.”

“Wow. I just have a boring tech job. I’m assuming you like reptiles, which one’s your favorite?”

“It’s basic, but I’ve always liked snakes. I have three.”

“I could never handle snakes. I know they probably won’t hurt me, but I’m anxious about everything.”

Am I oversharing? Should I be talking about my anxiety? Is that weird?

“I have a deathly fear of spiders, so that’s valid.”

Virgil would have said something else, but the train came, and it was difficult to talk onboard. It was weird how easy it was to talk to this person, even though he’d just met him.

~~

They’d got to talking about snakes.

Big breeds, small breeds, the most dangerous, the least dangerous kinds of snakes. Virgil swore he was being converted to like reptiles by this man. He talked about them with so much excitement, more than he showed any other time. Mostly he was calm and collected, a bit like Logan.

“I never got your name.”

“Oh, it’s Janus.”

Like, Janice?

“As in the Roman god, not like suburban mom.”

“Ah. Virgil.”

Neither of them smiled often, so whenever someone who knew them saw the smile, it always made them a bit happier as well. It was already happening with them, even a week or two into knowing each other.

“What kind of snakes do you have?”

“I’ve got a green tree python, a corn snake, and a ball python. Diana, Mercury, Liber.”

“All Roman names, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a nerd.”

“It’s fitting.”

It was so easy to talk to him. More so than any other stranger. Usually he’d get anxious and all his energy would be expended (he usually had a mental breakdown if it was a lot of people). Something about him, the way he talks, moves, looks at Virgil. He’s like a reptile.

Don’t get a crush on him. He’s probably straight.

Maybe he isn’t, though. He could be bi or pan or something.

The train interrupted their conversation, but Virgil kept glancing over at Janus throughout. He was looking down at his phone, he must’ve gotten more service. Virgil got off after him, but it gave him time to consider Janus before he got home.

“Logan, I’m getting a crush on a straight guy and I just found out his name today.”

“You’re odd, Virgil.”

“He’s hot. And he likes snakes.”

“You hate snakes. Wouldn’t someone with an interest in spiders be more akin to you?”

“...He’s scared of spiders.”

“Virgil…”

~~

And he did get a crush on Janus.

They talked every day they saw each other, finally remembering they could exchange numbers. They spent months getting to know each other with pretty limited interactions, as neither of them texted or called much anyway. It wasn’t exactly a good thing, though, because he either spent his time at work thinking about Janus, panicking because his boss was mad at him because he wasn’t doing his work (because he was thinking about Janus), or completely depressed because he was angry at her for giving him a panic attack. And the cycle would continue.

It turned out April was his girlfriend, and they’d been in an unhappy relationship for a year or so. He was glad she’d broke it off, but was left without a house for a while. He’d managed to share an apartment with his friend Remus and that was going okay. Virgil didn’t tell him about his depression, but was open enough about his anxiety. Luckily for Virgil, he mentioned an ex-boyfriend.

He was not straight. Maybe he had a chance.

Are you kidding? He’s not gonna want to date you, worthless bitch. You can’t make him deal with your mental health, and he probably hates you anyway.

Their interactions were mostly limited to the train station, but that only meant Virgil appreciated them even more.

Still, he wished he could be happy.

The only times he was were, well, when he was talking to Janus and when Logan gave him hugs. Talking to Logan was enjoyable, but he kept reminding himself about everything going on, everything wrong with himself, how he kept fucking up, and cutting and wanting to kill himself. With Janus, he forgot. It was so easy to smile and laugh at sarcastic jokes and the cute things he did, like blush when he laughed and stick out his tongue unintentionally.

Time flew by when they were together. There wasn’t enough time before the train came to talk nearly as long as Virgil would have liked. Still, every interaction was worth it. His love for Janus grew the more he talked about what he does, and he actually seemed interested in Virgil’s job, even though he swore it must be the most boring on the planet.

“I think you’ve conquered my fear of snakes, Janus.”

“What’s this? I’ve shown my little ball of anxiety the ways of the snake with my own love for him and reptiles.”

My little ball of anxiety? And did he just say he loved me?

Was he thinking about this too much?

One corner of his mouth was raised in a smile and Virgil couldn’t help but blush, however much he wanted to ignore it. Janus chuckled slightly and picked up the conversation again, mentioning how Diana had gotten out and managed to get herself on the couch. Virgil proceeded as well, debating whether it meant anything or not.

~~

Virgil felt sick.

He felt all things horrible. Depressed, anxious, angry, hopeless, and worthless.

Over and over it repeated.

“I’m afraid someone as unstable as you isn’t fit to work here.”

Unstable.

Unhealthy.

Worthless.

Useless.

What was he going to do? He wouldn’t have money to keep living with Logan, he had to go through the stress of finding another job, people would judge him, he wouldn’t even be able to eat.

There was nothing he could do.

He trembled as he made his way to the train station. He was going to have a panic attack. Hell, maybe he was already having a panic attack. He wanted to cry but he wouldn’t cry. He had to go home and explain to Logan and he’d just have to live until-

No you don’t.

Of course he didn’t.

He was going to the train station, goddamnit.

He rubbed his hands on his face, static buzzing in his ears as tears almost came. This was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. Finally.

He went up a different set of stairs, avoiding Janus. As he walked, the static slowly faded and was replaced with silence. Chosen silence, that is. He could hear the cars and the wind and the rain that had just begun to fall.

Fitting.

The train was early today, thank God. Its rumbling was familiar from the distance.

He took his last few steps to the edge of the platform, ignoring the tiny bit of anxiety that came with jumping down. He vaguely heard his name called over and over by the deep voice he knew well by now. He ignored it as well, starting with a slow walk, letting the raindrops soak into his hoodie. The walk sped up, and the rain got heavier, blurring out the train’s lights in a pretty way. He forced the muffled sound of his name out again, but it was getting louder.

There’s nothing you can do.

The walk got faster and turned into a run. He needed to catch the train before it slowed down.

Funny. Catching the train.

His ears pounded with the silence. So many things to distract him, things he loved. The awful sound of rain, knowing you’re going to get wet, but reveling in it anyway. The patter of feet on ground, now wood and gravel. And his voice, his beautiful voice.

The screech from the train stopped all other sounds, even splitting the silence in the bubble he created. It was warm, he hoped it was blood, so warm, so wonderfully warm.

Janus had never hugged Virgil.

He’d assumed he wasn’t one for being touchy-feely. He was tall and handsome, like the stereotypical distant, sexy man. But he wasn’t distant. He was there when Virgil needed him, even if he didn’t always know it. He put a hand on his shoulder or took Virgil’s hands in his to calm him down. He wished he’d gotten to know what kind of embrace he would have. Was it soft? Was it firm like Logan’s? Was it too tight? Was it always awkward like some people’s?

More than that, he wanted to know how his kisses were.

He imagined them soft, then passionate. Like something Virgil had always needed, the sweet feeling of pure love. He imagined he was the type to give solemn forehead kisses when a moment was serious, and short nose ones when the moments were playful. He imagined he’d kiss wherever he could on someone’s face, on his cheeks and chin, nose, lips, neck. They’d all be perfect for the occasion. There was a difference between a peck on someone’s cheek and smushing his lips against someone’s face. A slow kiss to the jaw was different from a badly-aimed one. Every subtle difference in position would say something new.

“I love you.”

“Shut up.”

“I need you right now.”

“You need me.”

He wished he’d learned every message. He wished he’d kissed Janus before today. He wished he’d at least told him and got rejected like he knew he would. He wished he could have everything. A hug and a kiss saying ‘it’s going to be okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. It’s-’

“-going to be okay.”

The sound of the rain hit the stones sharply, akin to the feeling on his back. Voices shouting, his voice, and a new sound.

His heart.

Virgil let himself sink into the rhythm and the feeling of warmth that encompassed him. Something was soft through the damp fabric, moving slightly every now and then. It was the pressure of something, a body-

-Janus.

He opened his eyes to see the blurry outline of blond hair covering Janus’s face. He raised his arm slowly to push it away, just then noticing the arms wrapped tightly around him, using the most of their surface area.

Janus’s eyes were beautiful and sad, was he- crying? Virgil couldn’t tell if it was the rain or tears until he sobbed, hugging Virgil even tighter, burying his face in his shoulder and muttering words Virgil couldn’t hear.

Virgil realized he was crying too. Of course he was crying, he was… alive.

He was alive.

“I’m sorry, Virgil. Please, please know I’m here for you.”

Virgil said nothing, still mute from shock. So many things happened just then, and now he was being hugged. And it was perfect, despite the rain.

“I could’ve- should’ve died.”

“No, Virgil, you shouldn’t have. You couldn’t have, I’d never let you.”

Did he really care?

“I need to- I need to tell you something.”

This could go horribly wrong.

I don’t care anymore. I’ve made the most impulsive decision of my life today, might as well make another.

Virgil took his hand to push Janus’s chin up, thumb tracing the scar closer to his lips.

“Can I-”

“Can I kiss you, Jan?”

He let his head drop towards Virgil’s, lips so close now. He would have smiled his snake smile if he could have felt an ounce of a smile.

Virgil pressed his parted lips to Janus’s, hand resting on the back of his neck. He pulled his fingers through his wet hair, feeling its softness even now.

It was everything he had imagined.

At first it was soft and tender, but Janus deepened it, hand wriggling out from under Virgil to hold his face. The raindrops drowned out that moment from the outside world. Janus’s heart quickened, as did Virgil’s, but they both relaxed into it. The scar was rough against Virgil’s face sometimes, but it only made him want him more. All either of them could hear were the raindrops contrasting with their hearts.

Virgil wanted to kiss him longer, hold this forever. When they did break, Janus laid his burned cheek against Virgil’s.

“Do you need to go home?”

He thought of Logan and how upset he was when Virgil cut, how hard he tried and how bad he felt for him. And how bad Virgil felt for hurting him.

“Can we go to your place? It’s... closer.”

“Oh- I suppose we could. I doubt Remus will be there.”

They avoided the people trying to help Virgil, weaving through the few scattered onlookers, Janus’s arm resting around Virgil’s waist. Virgil was scared he would have a panic attack again and tried to focus on Janus.

He called a cab as he wasn’t about to take the train after that, and sat in the backseat with Virgil, not letting him go for a second. It was expensive and Virgil tried to get Janus to let him pay, but he didn’t have much of an argument. Janus half-carried Virgil up the stairs and into his apartment.

It was clean, which Virgil guessed was Janus’s doing given what he’d said about Remus, and fairly dark. It wasn’t the kind of dark that made you feel uneasy, but rather as in lighted only with soft ambient light. He didn’t get a good look at their living room before Janus pulled him into his bedroom. It was painted a pretty yellow and lit with a color changing lamp, which Janus turned to purple.

He sat Virgil down on the bed, who was still rather dazed from the day. Janus rummaged through his clothing drawers until he found a shirt smaller than the others and an old-looking pair of sweatpants.

“Here, you can change into this.”

Janus grabbed some clothes for himself and left the room for a moment, allowing him privacy. Virgil removed his soaked hoodie and Evanescence t-shirt, putting on the soft purple one Janus had found. It had short sleeves, but he didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He put on the sweatpants, soft and warm and opened the door for Janus. He was changed into a big hoodie that Virgil would kill to wear.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I- I think so. Sorry about the, the cuts.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. If you want me to get you something with long sleeves-”

“I think I’ll just end up stealing your hoodie at some point. Otherwise… it’s fine.”

“Okay.”

Virgil sat down on the bed again, craving the soft blankets. Janus took his spot beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks, Jan. It- I’m, I’m alive because of you. I don’t know how I could repay that.”

“Tell me when this happens, and I’d die happy.”

Virgil smiled, leaning against Janus. He pushed himself against the wall, pulling Virgil along with him. He heaved the thick blanket around him and Virgil, but mostly Virgil. He snuggled into the weight and comfort, still sitting against Janus as if he were the only thing keeping him balanced.

“What happened today?”

“I got… fired. ‘Cause I’m too depressed to work. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“I can help you find a job, V. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Sometimes it just… feels that way. Like you’re never going to get out of this pit of loneliness and you’re sure everyone hates you, and you’re so scared something will go wrong all the time even though you don’t really care.”

“I don’t hate you. And I know you can end this the healthy way. Shall we start with some ice cream?”

“Ice cream’s not exactly healthy, Janus.”

“Ssshh.”

He left for a moment and returned with two tubs of chocolate ice cream and a spoon for each of them.

“No bowls? And two whole tubs?”

“Mhm. It’s better that way. And you could have both of them if you asked.”

“Nah, you deserve some ice cream too. I probably hurt you a lot by doing that.”

“Mm-mm, Virgil. You’re hurting, not me. Self-care rule number one: you’re better than everyone for a while, put your feelings first.”

“I’m not.”

“Pretend. Now, what would you like to do?”

Virgil considered the question for a moment. It might be nice to listen to music, or to distract himself with a game or movie, but he didn’t really want that.

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“I… want to kiss you.”

Janus turned pink for a moment, before smiling his smile with one corner of his mouth.

Before he could say anything that he wanted to, Virgil kissed that smile. He wondered what it would be like to do so many times, so he wasn’t going to miss his opportunity. He put his ice cream down to hold Janus’s face with cold fingers, savoring the feeling of the little half-smile turning surprised and then into a giddy smile that began to kiss back. Virgil grinned when it ended, looking back into Janus’s eyes.

“So you’re going to surprise kiss me now?”

“Yep-”

Janus, just as quickly as Virgil had, kissed him quick on the nose, eliciting a blush from Virgil this time.

“Unfair, Janus.”

“Nah.”

“I’m gonna pout and eat my ice cream now.”

“Is there anything else we can do while eating ice cream?”

“I suppose we could watch a movie.”

“Lion King?”

“...Lion King? I mean, yeah, sure, okay!”

He smiled as Janus put the movie on, his familiar excitement seeping through. Virgil managed to wrestle the soft hoodie from him, revealing that one, he had no shirt, and two, that Virgil would cuddle Janus’s burn marks and he appreciated that. As Virgil fell asleep next to him, he pressed his lips to his forehead, who was just awake enough to feel.

And one by one, the messages were unlocked to him. Once, after a dance, came the desperate, passionate kiss that told him “I need to kiss you.” One Disney marathon he came to feel the peppered kisses on his cheeks that said “You’re adorable.” After a weekend trip alone he got the long cheek kiss that said ‘I missed you.’ When he finally got a job, he was given the messy kiss, cheeks held tight that said “I’m so proud of you.” One tired night he blushed at the kisses on his jaw and neck that said “You’re hot and I’m bored.”

And again and again and again, the tender forehead kisses that said “I’m here for you. I love you.”

[isolavirtuosa]

All the Details

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Sam wants his brother to find peace.

Read below on tumblr or read on AO3.

All the Details

Isola Virtuosa

 - 1-

  I usually stopped by Dean’s in the morning after my run.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said, holding the door open for me before I had even reached the porch.

“Hey,” I said, sweeping my sweaty hair from my eyes and pulling the earbuds from my ears.

Dean didn’t say anything else, moving abruptly towards the kitchen.

I followed him, feeling my eyebrows draw together.  He hadn’t made a comment about the pointlessness of my hobbies, the terribleness of my music, or the ridiculous longness of my hair.  “What’s up?” I asked, pulling out a chair and taking a seat at the table.

“Nothing,” he said sharply, hands fumbling with the mugs he’d pulled down from the cupboard.

“Uh, okay,” I scoffed at him.

He glared at me before moving over to the coffee pot and picking it up more angrily than seemed necessary.  He clanked the mugs on the counter loudly before he filled them.

This was certainly a Dean I hadn’t seen in a long time.  Not since we’d… come here.  I wondered what could possibly have gotten him this riled up.

“Here,” he grumbled at me, pushing one of the mugs across the table.

“Thanks,” I said.  I picked up the mug and took a sip, and I waited.

Dean was still standing, shifting from one foot to the other, with his coffee just sitting between his hands, forgotten.  “So…” he said gruffly.

“So,” I agreed.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he finally said, eyes not meeting mine.

I sipped my coffee, trying to give him my best ‘I’m listening’ face without saying anything.  I didn’t want to spook him, now that it was starting to click into place.  He wasn’t angry, he was nervous, and there was only one thing I could think of that could be making him nervous.

“Cass and me…” he started to say, then immediately stopped, turning his back on me to look out the kitchen window over the sink.

I could feel myself grinning, but I hid it behind my coffee and kept my mouth shut.

Dean’s shoulders tensed like he was getting ready for a fight.

It made me a little sad that my brother still couldn’t find his peace, but I had the feeling maybe he was about to take a baby step.

“We’re together,” he ground out.

I wanted to make so very many comments.  ‘So when you say together...’  ‘Finally.’  ‘Kinda already knew that, dude.’  

The tension didn’t leave Dean’s shoulders.

“That’s really great,” I said instead.

He whirled around, annoyed.  “Really great?” he repeated irritably.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my expression as non-offensive as possible.  “You two are good for each other.”

Dean’s expression was still bordering on hateful, but there was something almost hopeful in his eyes.  “You get what I’m saying, right?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Yeah,” I said, meeting his gaze evenly.  “You and Cass are together.  Romantically.”

His nose scrunched up at that.

“As a couple,” I tried.

His eyes searched mine.

“I’m really glad,” I told him, giving him a reassuring nod.

He nodded back, looking away again.  He finally remembered the coffee in his hands and took a slow sip.

“This coffee is terrible,” I informed him, putting my mug down.

“Is it?” he asked, blinking slowly.  Then something seemed to click in his mind.  “Oh, shit, I only put half the beans in.”

I snorted at that.  “Good job, dude.”

“Fuck you, make your own damn coffee,” he grumbled.

The tension finally left the room, only to re-enter in the form of a trench coated angel.

“Oh, um, hello, Sam,” he said, looking confused.  “I was… well, I just arrived here at Dean’s home… as you must have as well… to… visit Dean…”

“I told him,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Told him what?” Cass asked, his head tilting to the side.

“That we’re together,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cass’s head tilted to the side.  “Well, I mean, of course we are all together in your kitchen-”

“I told him,” he repeated, giving Cass a significant look.

Cass blinked slowly.  “You mean you told him that we kissed?”

Dean looked like he was going to have a heart attack.  “We don’t need to go into all the details!”

“It’s not really all the details if it’s the only detail,” Cass said with a shrug.  “I mean, nothing else about our… ‘togetherness’ has changed.”

“Sam doesn’t want to hear about all that.”

“Actually,” I said.

Dean spun around to stare me down, trying to murder me with his eyes.

Cass just looked happy.  “Dean is very good at the kissing,” he said, pleased.

“That’s great, Cass,” I said.

“It really is,” he agreed.

“Well, I’ll just go shoot myself in the face now,” Dean muttered, putting his mug in the sink and moving to leave the kitchen.

“Dean,” I protested, hoping I hadn’t taken the teasing too far.

He ignored me, but stopped short when Cass put a hand to his chest.

“Self-harm is not funny,” Cass said sternly.

Dean rolled his eyes, but there was a strange flicker of contriteness to his expression.

“I treasure your face, as I do every other part of you,” he informed Dean, touching his cheek briefly.  “I apologize if I overshared, but Sam is the first person I have been able to express my newfound joy to.”

“You are so weird,” Dean muttered.  His cheeks were flushed red, and he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“And you are beautiful,” Cass said, taking his hand away.  “I have to get to work.  I will see you later,” he said, giving Dean a long look before turning to me.  “Sam, it was good to see you.”

“Later, Cass,” I said, waving to him even as he vanished with a whoosh.

Dean looked like he was going to spontaneously combust.

“I could use some more shitty coffee,” I said, holding up my empty cup towards him.

He scoffed at that, taking my cup hurriedly and turning his back on me while he poured.

I wanted to tease him.  The words were just sitting there, wasting away without getting any use, and it would be so easy to just open my mouth and let them out.

But Dean wasn’t ready for that.  So I took mercy on him and drank more of his terrible coffee.

One step at a time.

 - 2 -

  Mom and I were going up the porch steps to Dean’s when the door suddenly flew open.

Dean paused when he saw us, mumbled something about going out, then stomped on by us.

Cass held open the door, giving us both an apologetic look.

“What crawled up his ass?” I asked, looking over my shoulder to where Dean was stalking off towards his car.

“He’s angry that I satisfy him sexually,” Cass explained.

My head whipped back around to gawk at the annoyed-looking angel in front of me.

Cass was looking at Dean, who had stopped short and was now stalking back over to us.

I turned to Mom, relieved to find that she looked just as mortified and mystified as I did.

“Cass, can we have word?” Dean growled, pushing Cass back inside and closing the porch door.  His voice was slightly muffled by the shut door, but we could still hear him clear enough when he said, “you do not talk to other people about our private business.”

“I was just answering Sam’s question,” Castiel said, giving an innocent shrug.

“Okay, but you don’t have to answer it so damn specifically,” Dean ground out.

“How should I answer it then?” Cass asked, genuinely confused.

“I don’t know, Cass, vaguely?  Appropriately?  In a way that doesn’t involve talking about our very private se-… stuff.”

“Do they really think we can’t hear them?” Mom whispered to me.

I just shook my head, unable to look away from the car crash playing out through the glass pane of the door.

“I’m sorry, Dean, did you want to make me a list of to whom I can speak to about what topics?”

“Yeah, okay, let’s start with, ‘don’t talk to family about our sex life!’”

“Um, then who do I talk to about it?”

“Me, Cass.  You talk to me about it.”

“But you are family, so…”

“Cass.”

“And you also refuse to talk about it, so…”

“Maybe we should come back later,” Mom suggested.

I looked to her, giving her a quick nod, and we both started slowly backing away from the door.

Dean and Cass both clocked our movement and turned to look at us.

Mom and I pasted on smiles and waved awkwardly.

Cass seemed to accept that as normal enough, waving back, while Dean looked mortified and turned away.

“Do you think Dean will ever… find peace with himself?” Mom asked as we moved down the wooded path.  Her brow was creased in worry, an expression I hadn’t seen from her in a while.

“Yeah, I do,” I said, relieved to see her expression lighten at my words.  “He’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, briefly reaching out to squeeze my hand.

I tucked my arm around her shoulder as we hiked the rest of the way back to her place.

 - 3 -

  My dad, my brother, and my son were buried up to their elbows in car grease.  I’d tried holding a wrench and pretending to be useful for a while, but I found I got more enjoyment out of sitting next to Bobby, drinking beer and just watching them.

“Your kid certainly got the gene,” Bobby said, amused.

“Nature over nurture, ’cause I sure didn’t teach him any of that,” I said, shaking my head.

It was surreal to watch three generations of Winchesters, working and joking around together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was not the most natural thing in the world.  Dean and Dad still had a lot of things to work out, and it was always uncomfortable to watch them fall back into their old pattern of dutiful son and dominant father.

But this moment right here, this moment felt right.  It felt good.

My brother threw his head back, laughing at something that my son had said, and even Dad was grinning, and it felt like some kind of circle had been completed.

“Hello Sam, Bobby.”

“Hey, Cass,” I said, shooting a glance at the angel who had just appeared beside me.  “Heaven give you a day off?”

“Yes,” he said.  “I wanted to spend that time near Dean.”

“Listen to Casanova over here,” Bobby mumbled, rolling his eyes.  “Have a drink,” he said, holding a beer out to Cass.

“Have you been reciting passages from Histoire de ma vie?” Cass asked, taking the beer and looking confused.

“From the what now?” Bobby asked, shaking his head.

“Don’t mind him, Cass, he’s just miffed because Karen complained that he doesn’t look at her like you look at Dean,” I said, patting the chair next to me.

Cass took the seat, looking perplexed but pleased.  “She thinks it’s a good thing?  Because Dean tells me that the way I look at him is creepy and that I should stop, but then his adrenaline releases and his dilated blood vessels rush blood to his face, so then I’m not quite so sure that he means what he says.”

“If Dean is talking about his feelings, you can pretty much assume that he means the opposite of what he says,” I pointed out.

“Very true,” Cass agreed.  “What are you reading, Sam?”

“Hm?” I said, picking up the forgotten book from my lap.  “Hebrew Melodies.”

“Ah, Lord Byron,” he said, nodding his head.  “His portrayal of my brothers and sisters in his works has always intrigued me.”

So Cass and I started discussing the Romantic poetry movement, which soon found Bobby excusing himself to ‘show the idjits how to repair a goddamn engine properly’.

At some point Dad came over to get a beer, only to find that the cooler was empty.  “How are we supposed to get anything done?” he muttered, moving off towards the house.

“Yeah, why is the guy who’s immune to alcohol drinking all our beers?” Dean teased, finally coming over to greet Cass now that Dad wasn’t here.

“It’s part of the male bonding experience,” Cass said, his face lighting up from my brother’s attention.

Dean shook his head and crooked his finger at him.

Cass easily interpreted the gesture and handed over his beer to him.

Dean took it, taking a long swig before giving it back.  “Thought you were off doing angel stuff.”

“I was able to delegate some of my tasks to my underlings.”

“My angel has underlings,” Dean said with a snort, holding his hand out again.

Cass obediently passed him his beer, their fingers lingering as the bottle switched hands.

“We’re probably just gonna be doing car stuff all day,” Dean said, taking a drink.  “Might be boring for you.”

“Sam and I were actually having a very interesting conversation.”

“Yep, definitely do not want to know what you nerds were talking about.”

“Oh, I will be sure to give you all the details later,” Cass said, pleased with his attempt at being sardonic.

“Is that right?” Dean hummed, his voice dropping a little lower.

I’d been watching Bobby and my Dean talking animatedly over a carburetor, feeling that strong pull of family, but now I found my eyes flicking over to my brother and his angel.

Dean was flirting with Cass.  In public.  On purpose.

I never thought I’d live to see the day.  Which, technically, I hadn’t, but it was still a sight to behold.  The fingers brushing lingeringly over the neck of the bottle, the smoldering eyes, the little tilt to Dean’s mouth.  I’d seen it all play out before in a thousand different bars.  And yet somehow this was completely new and different.

Dean wasn’t trying to charm some random girl into bed.  It seemed like all he wanted was to make Cass smile, and he appeared to be succeeding wildly.

And then his hand was suddenly pulling away, his shoulders tensing as Dad reappeared, reloading the cooler with beer.

Mom was with him, shaking her head and muttering about the excessive testosterone out here.  She took a couple of beers over to Bobby and Dean, cracking one open herself and looking at the carburetor.  Then she was pushing up her sleeves and getting in there with the rest of them.

“I better… get back over there…” Dean said uncertainly.

“Go,” Cass said, smiling at him easily.  “I’ll be waiting.”  Cass was always patient with Dean when he knew he couldn’t handle being pushed.

Dean went back over to the car, completely missing the look that Dad was giving him.

It wasn’t the look of disgust that he was anticipating.

Dad wasn’t stupid.  Just because Dean hadn’t told him didn’t mean that he didn’t know.  But it still sent a message, and Dad was receiving it loud and clear.

Dad and Dean had a long way to go.

Good thing we had all the time in the world.

“Family is complicated,” Cass mused.

“Sometimes,” I agreed.

“I like our family, though,” he decided.

“I like it, too.”

 - 4 -

  The sun had barely crept up over the horizon when I finished my run and stopped by Dean’s.  I knocked on the door and was surprised when it was Cass who answered.

“Good morning, Sam,” he said.  “Would you like to come in?  Dean is still sleeping.”

I snorted at that.  As much as Dean liked to mock me for running (“dude, your body is literally incorporeal, who are you trying to impress?”), he couldn’t seem to let go of his own human habit of sleeping (“it’s just nice to reset sometimes, Sammy”).

“I’m learning how to make eggs and bacon,” Cass informed me as I took my usual seat at the table.

“Oh?” I said, pulling out a paperback.

“Would you like to try some?”

“…sure…?” I said, not really sure at all.  Angels who thought food just tasted like molecules did not in general good chefs make.

“Dean says my previous attempt was edible,” he said as a way of encouragement.

“Edible, great,” I said.  “That’s definitely something I look for in the food I’m eating.”

“I will do my best,” Cass said solemnly, pulling some eggs from the fridge and moving over to the stove.

I flipped open my book and started reading.

The kitchen was actually starting to smell pretty good, which must have awoken the beast.  Dean came trudging into the kitchen, eyes half-closed, and immediately attached himself to Cass, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind and leaning his chin heavily on his shoulder.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Cass said.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean mumbled, pressing his face into his neck.  Then there were the soft, very unmistakable sounds of lips against skin.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cass said, turning towards him enough to be able to press a kiss to his forehead.  “Sam is here.”

Dean’s body went rigid.

I didn’t look up from my book.  “Morning.”

He hesitated.

I flipped the page and continued reading.

“Morning,” he said, letting out a slow breath and relaxing back into Cass.

“I put a pot of coffee on, so it should be ready any minute,” Cass said.

“Thank you,” Dean mumbled, still not sounding quite awake.  Then he tilted his head up and murmured something that was for Cass’s ears only.

Of course, Cass always had to give the game away.  “I love you, too.”

Dean hummed a pleased noise, kissed him on the cheek, then slowly disentangled himself and went to sit at the table across from me.

The coffee maker buzzed, and Cass shuffled over to it.  “Sam, would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He filled two mugs and placed them in front of us on the table.

“Thanks,” Dean said, letting their fingers brush over the mug before finally picking it up and taking a drink.  His nose wrinkled, and he immediately put the mug down.  “Cass, how do you mess up coffee?”

“I followed the instructions exactly,” Cass protested, brow furrowing.

“And the bacon is burning,” Dean pointed out.

“Is it?” he asked, turning the look back at the stove.  “Oh, so it seems.”

Dean’s smile as he looked down at the table was something I hadn’t seen in a very long time.  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, shaking his head but still grinning.

“I’m cute?” Cass asked.  He sounded confused as he tried scraping the burnt bacon from the pan.

“As a button,” I supplied, which only added to Cass’s confusion.

“Is there some kind of intrinsic cuteness to circular plastic that fastens clothes?”

“Don’t get him started,” Dean grumbled at me, because apparently he was the only one who could use phrases that Cass didn’t understand.

I grinned at him.  “But you and your boyfriend are just so adorable.”

“Shut up,” he growled into his coffee.  His cheeks flushed, but there was no forthcoming denial or objection to my word choice.

Cass blinked slowly.  It hadn’t gotten past him either, but he just smiled and took the victory quietly as he slid a plate in front of me and then Dean.

I eyed the burnt bacon and the questionably runny eggs, but I gave Cass a smile and a thank you before taking a very careful bite.

“How many times do I have to remind you that salt and sugar are two different things,” Dean grumbled into his eggs.

"Dean, I am perfectly aware of the significant structural difference between salt and sugar,” Cass said, rolling his eyes.  “Only humans would think that they are even remotely similar.”

“Then why do you keep putting sugar in my damn eggs!”

“I think the sweet texture is nice,” he said with a shrug.

Dean leaned his head back, his eyes practically rolling up into his head.  “You and me are doing another cooking lesson.”

“I look forward to it.”

“The sweetness is actually kind of nice,” I offered.

Cass beamed at me while Dean glared.

“Okay, well, thanks for breakfast, but my wife should be getting home soon and I’d like to be there when she arrives,” I said, pushing my empty plate aside.

“Sammy’s whipped,” Dean informed Cass, then made the accompanying wrist snapping gesture and sound effect.

“Sounds painful,” Cass said, turning to me in concern.

“I’m pretty sure Dean is the one who is whipped,” I said.

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but every time he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

“Thought so,” I said, pushing away from the table.

“Dean, is someone hurting you?” Cass asked, even more concerned.

“Really, Sam?” Dean said, gesturing to Cass’s distraught expression.

“Don’t worry, Cass,” I said, patting his shoulder as I walked by.  “Dean’s safe word is rhubarb.”

“Shut up, man,” Dean grumbled, but there was no bite to it.

“Why does he need a sa-” Cass started to say, and suddenly went quiet.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the two of them exchanging a very long, meaningful look.

“Send our love to Eileen,” Cass said, but he was still staring at Dean, and I had the feeling I may have started something.

“Of course,” I said, making my exit.  “Later.”  I didn’t need the details of whatever this all was.

I didn’t receive a reply, though Dean suddenly let out a bark of laughter.

“Shhh,” Cass was saying, but it sounded like he was trying not to laugh, too.  “Goodbye, Sam.”

I closed the door behind me, feeling a smile tug at my lips as I started towards home.

[rendezvous-ramblings]

Are you concerned about E finding your blog? Would you ever tell him about it, and how would you navigate that conversation, if you did? I think that you’re one of the best tc blogs, with regards to your levelheadedness, respect for privacy (both yours and others), and your advice, so thank you!

Hi,

I'm not really concerned about E finding my blog. My phone is always put away whenever we see each other. We both would rather be present in each other's company. So I'm never blogging or actively checking Tumblr in front of him. E can borrow my phone whenever he wants. I'm transparent about what's on it because I have nothing to hide. He's just not that interested in social media and finds more toxicity in it than benefits. I have my notifications turned off for Tumblr as they can get overwhelming. E knows I just have the standard Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat.

I don't think I'll ever tell E about my blog. I shifted more towards advice giving. I do have anecdotes of our relationship here and there but it's no longer the focal point like when I first started. I'm sure one day I'll feel my time on Tumblr is over and I'll just simply deactivate. It will likely happen when I have more priorities once I finish graduate school. I also actively ask people to please delete their reblogs of my personal updates when they don't see the note in my header. That way, I won't have a paper trail when I do decide to leave the platform. Also maybe it's due to my inactivity combined with the pandemic but I do feel like there's less people asking for advice nowadays? Hopefully being active and more engaged doesn't attract more trolls because we all don't need more drama.

If I ever did tell E, I feel like it might be slightly weirded out that I share our moments online as he's a pretty private person. We've both only told our friends and aren't "out" with our respective sets of parents/family. We would rather wait when I'm in a more stable position (financially/job wise) so we can prepare for the worst case scenario of excommunication or backlash from mine. I don't want to be a partner who can't contribute if we end up living together. E doesn't need that but it's just the morals/principles I have when it comes to relationships.

He could also be the type to tease me relentlessly about posting sappy things about him. I'm sure he would think the advice/help aspect of my blog is considerate of me. Blogging on here can be cathartic at times when I'm not oversharing. I entrusted my best friends with my relationship though I'm sure they do get tired of listening me rave about E all the time 😅 It's nice to have a place to gush about little moments when E makes me happy especially during these times.

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy my blog and the responses that I put out there! I know it's not always what people want to hear but I definitely want tcers to see a different perspective and rationalize before making their decisions. I can empathize with the emotional rollercoaster because I see myself in all of you when I was first crushing on E five years ago (wow, crazy how it's going to be half a decade!).