Simon has always been confused on why you gift him toys. Sure, most of the gifts you gave him were some of the things he liked. Bourbon, masks, gloves, make up for him to smudge his eyes with, some daggers and knives. Things that we're useful for him, just him. But later, you gifted him a toy airplane. He makes a comment about it, saying he is not a child anymore and you were better off giving it to Johnny instead.
"No, this is specifically for you, take it."
When he gets to him room, he walks toward his trash can, opening it with the tip of his boot. He gives one more look at the toy, his mood souring before throwing it into the trash. He goes on about his day, training, signing paper work, drills. Doing anything to ignore the pain stinging memories that the toy brought back. Emotions that were buried thousands of feet deep it could reach hell itself. Later, he lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, avoiding looking at the cylinder shape that's calling for him in his peripheral.
Fuck.
He pulls the covers off vigorously and stomps over to the trash can. He is standing over it like he's trying to intimidate it, as if it was an enemy he's trying to get rid of in battle. To anyone else, the scene would look comical.
He sighs to himself and reaches down to take out the toy he so cruelly threw away. He sets it on his desk and quickly walks toward his bed, facing away from his desk.
The next day, he wakes up feeling different. He swears he sees his room more vibrant, more lively. That energy follows him through out the day, having his other teammates notice his rather bright mood.
You catch him in the hallway. Pulling him aside to ask him about the paper work you left at his desk this morning. Of course, he notices the way you smile brightly, more so than usual. But he notices that you're not looking at him. More like looking at something next to him.
"What's got you so cheery?"
You turn to look up at him, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"I just..." You take a quick glance at the spot next to him, before bringing your eyes back upon his.
"I just hope you liked your gift." The same bright smile appearing on your face.
He stares at you, examining your words. Your expression.
You think you see his eyes crinkle a bit.
"Yea,"
"I liked it."
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Do you guys ever think about how canonically the vessels that angels occupy aren’t supposed to age (s12e10 when Cas is impressed his buddies kept their same vessels for well over a century. Also apparently Cas tells Jimmy when he first was requesting permission to inhabit his body, that Jimmy would not age while he was doing so.)
…but Castiel definitely ages. Obviously I get that this is simply because Misha himself is aging, but *my* in-universe headcanon is that he’s choosing it, (whether consciously or unconsciously) because he wants to grow old with Dean.
UPDATE: I wrote a fic for this. Enjoy!🐝
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thinking about a whumpee on a forced march through rough terrain
hands tied in front of them, on foot while their captors are mounted, sleeping out in the open, forced to beg for adequate food and water
maybe they're barefoot, a captured royal in silken robes
maybe they're in a torn suit or soldier's uniform
maybe they were stripped at the start, increasing the exposure to the elements, the humiliation
are they a terrified mess from the beginning, or do they try to endure with dignity? how long before they're stumbling, barely putting one foot in front of the other? how long before they fall?
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I can’t find the ask that said they request more fruk, but my love if you’re out there, pls accept this🥲
I also seem to have forgotten how to draw Arthur. Woe is me. :)
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it’s nearly 2024, i think we as a society frankly deserve a mainstream sherlock holmes series that actually commits and makes them gay. we’re ready.
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