Hey, since you have trouble touching people without stabbing them, but like cuddling pets, have you considered trying to hug T'Challa? Or possibly getting Tony to put on cat ears?
you have a serious flaw in your logic.
tchalla is a cat-man who has repeatedly tried to claw my face off. it was freakin traumatizing. you think a normal cat that doesnt wanna be petted is bad, try getting handsy with tchalla.
not that ive gotten handsy with tchalla. i like my face attached to my person, thank you very much.
tony put on cat ears a few months ago in a fit of confused sleep deprivation. the picture circulated through avengers-related group chats for weeks. nick fury called it, and i quote, ‘fucking adorable.’ tony is sometimes a no-toucher too though, so mostly we let him initiate contract when he wants to. so no, i did not hug tony when he was wearing cat ears.
steve did have to carry him to bed though. and that picture circulated for months
@sammy-dean-pie sent a prompt but when I tried to answer it disappeared… not in my inbox or my drafts or posted… it’s just gone. So anyway, here’s JayTim + “Come over here and make me.”
“That absolute bastard,” Jason curses, pressed up against the window. His breath is fogging up the glass in quick puffs and his hands are leaving huge, angry smudges. “Pinche punto.”
“What is it now?” Dick asks, coming up next to Jason at the window.
Jason pushes even closer, the tip of his nose squished flat. “Just look!”
Across the street, Tim Drake is hanging a banner over the door of his restaurant.
“Second anniversary special,” Dick reads. “Get two pizzas for the price of one when you- oh.”
“When you bring in a Brothers’ Best Burgers advertisement,” Jason finishes.
Jason whines, “We spent so long on that newspaper ad!”
“It can still work,” Dick says, but he doesn’t sound very confident.
“Yeah, it’ll work for them!”
“Damn,” Dick sighs, watching as Drake pins the last corner of his sign. “That’s smart.”
Jason, finally tearing his eyes away from his nemesis, gives Dick a hurt look. “Whose side are you on?”
“Ours, obviously.” Dick waves at the man across the street with a rag. “But you have to admit, that’s a good idea.”
“I’ll admit nothing,” Jason growls, turning back just in time to catch Drake looking right at him.
Jason narrows his eyes, and Drake smiles.
Shoots a cheerful finger gun their way.
“That’s it!” Jason roars, moving for the door. He steps outside with Dick on his heels and throws out his arm, pointing at the sign. “You take that down right fucking now, Timmy!”
“Come over here and make me,” Drake calls back
“Don’t think I won’t!”
“I’d like to see you try!”
“What’s going on?” Stephanie asks, coming out of her shop next door. She takes in the scene eagerly. “I heard yelling.”
“What’s going on,” Jason answers, “is that little Timmy Drake is about to get his ass kicked.”
Stephanie raises an eyebrow and turns her grin toward Tim. “That true?”
“Jason is overreacting, as usual,” Tim says, crossing his arms over his chest.
Jason yells, “You’re stealing our customers!”
Drake yells back, “It’s called running a successful business!”
Dick moves to stand next to Stephanie and they watch as the two men yell over each other.
“By being a cheat-”
“You’re the one that published your ad on my anniversary weekend-”
“You did the same thing to me last year-”
“I’ve told you, I didn’t know-”
“Stop speaking Spanish, dammit,” Tim snaps.
Jason switches to rapid-fire Spanish, “I’ll talk however I want, fucker. I’ll say whatever I want. Like how I want to rip that sign to pieces. And how I want to punch your stupid, pretty face every time I see it. Every day I look out the window and there you are, with all your customers and the sunlight hitting your eyes just right and you look at me all smug, and I just want to kiss that grin right off!”
Drake stares at Jason, mouth hanging open.
Jason coughs. “Um. You don’t. You don’t understand Spanish, do you?”
“What the hell happened? Are you all right?” Dean asked, holding onto the front of Sam’s jacket, though it was clear he was anything but all right. He looked close to collapse as he shook his head minutely at his brother.
“Where’s Y/N, Sammy?” Dean tried again, searching his face desperately.
“I don’t think…” Sam trailed off, breathing hard.
“No. No, because you two were together when we got split up. Y/N’s fine, probably right behind you, had to kill another demon or something,” Dean said, trying to force himself to believe his words.
“You can’t go back, Dean,” Sam said softly. “There’s too many; it’s suicide–”
“I’m not going back!” Dean snapped. “This is the rendezvous point, dammit, Y/N’s coming. We’re just going to wait. Now sit down before you fall down.”
Sam didn’t need to be told twice and sank to the ground, elbows on knees as he replayed the last he’d seen your face over and over in his mind. You had been right with him when he’d been running. He hadn’t heard a scream, hadn’t seen blood; you were just gone the next time he’d turned around. It had been chaos.
He and Dean waited there by the side of the road until the sun set and still there was no sign of you. And when Dean left his brother despite all protests, a weakened Sam could do little more than watch as he jogged the two miles down the road back towards the battle grounds they’d left hours before.
Dean’s parting words to Sam had been right, though; the remaining demons had long since cleared out and all that remained was the carnage the Winchesters and you had left in your wake. Dean searched the place entirely, yelling your name, looking for any sign of you, but as the night wore on and all that greeted Dean’s ears was cricket song, his hammering heart slowly came to the realization that you were gone.