this has been in my draft 5ever

thelightofthingshopedfor  asked:

RTC headcanon: I'd love to hear about a time early in their relationship when Steve got sick/hurt or had a bad nightmare and Loki took care of him 😁

(this has been sitting in my drafts for ages, finally am just accepting it for what it is and tossing it into the world)

The knock on his door came late, and after a moment of considering the likelihood that it was Thor attempting another pointless overture, Loki decided that it was unlikely and strode over to open it. 

It was Steve, looking battered, dirty, and exhausted. Loki blinked, and Steve smiled wearily, the expression almost painfully false. 

“Long day,” he said. “Can I come in?” 

Keep reading

moments with the types

Warning: fake deep.

ENFP: Feeling completely overwhelmed by the number of directions you could take. You find the freedom comforting but the realization absolutely terrifying. Impatience takes a hold of you, will things get better or worse? You want to know, but waiting to find out only brings a swarm of missed opportunities. Directions you could have taken. Why can’t you just be there already? 

INFP: Choking back laughter next to your best friend.You can’t decide whether or not you should break the silence or just let it happen. It’s been a good three days since you have spoken to each other, not because you’re angry, but because you have other priorities. You both understand this fact, but your friendship remains unbreakable. 

ENFJ: There’s eleven group chats open and you’re feeling somewhat unstable, but as the messages keep piling up in your inbox you become oddly content. Your words may be misinterpreted hundreds of times, but it’s only temporary. You can fix this, you know you can. You can fix a lot of things. 

INFJ: The break, halfway through the conversation when you realize that it’s no longer necessary for you to ask questions. It’s not because you’re disinterested, or uncomfortable with the subject matter of the discussion, but because you don’t feel the need to prod at an open wound. The topic doesn’t need any more understanding. You already know what’s happened.  

ENTP: Those unexpected 4 hour long conversations that  go where they’re taken. They start with sarcasm, lead into well-deserved venting sprees, and end in fake deep (but oddly therapeutic) ramblings -all topped off by reluctant farewells. All in all, they’re the conversations you usually regret for weeks to come, but you’re also very glad they happened.

INTP: The extra five minutes of silence you sit waiting for your alarm clock. Perhaps you’ve misjudged the amount of time you really need to sleep in order to be rested. Or, perhaps you’ve just conditioned yourself to anticipate the chirping reminders of the electronic life coach trying to keep you from decomposing too early. The sense of routine makes you uneasy. 

ENTJ: You’re moving people to tears. For once, people are viewing you as the inspirational figure you truly are. You have control over your life, and influence over others. It’s a responsibility you’re willing to take. The sheer awe in their eyes surprises you to some extent, but you deserve it. You’re incredible.

INTJ: Giving up on what’s going nowhere. Cutting ties with the toxic people who tether you down to one sided relationships and hours of worry. Finally realizing that any sort of efforts are futile in the situation. A worthless situation that holds no value to you, or anyone involved, so you let go of it. Refusing to commit to anything that you’ll never see the benefit from, because what’s the point?

ESFP: Neither of you are sure whether or not you’re joking, but things are finally happening, so why bother to ask? Your lack of communication is probably going to push you both over the edge. But not right now. Right now, you don’t care. You’re taking things as they come. No warnings, no pauses for clarification, nothing that could slow things down. You’re letting life happen.

ISFP: The second you realize that it’s okay to talk/think/care about yourself. It’s okay to be upset, to be hurt, to be angry. To feel things the way everyone else does and not be ashamed of it. You’re willing to let it out. To let others see and understand. You’re not a burden to anyone. It’s okay. 

ESTP: The beating of your heart intensifies as you wait for their reaction. Will they say yes? Or will you suffer the painful blow of rejection yet again, only to pick yourself back off the ground to start all over again? You’ve got a good feeling about it this time, though. You can tell there’s something different. Probability is working with you for once, as their head nods slowly and a weightless feeling takes over you. Yes. This time, it was a yes.

ISTP: You grit your teeth as you expect the words tumbling out of your mouth to be taken badly by their sensitive audience. Not many people seem accustomed to the way you express your affection. Tough love? Not really, just honesty. Something you find very important, and that others aren’t very aware of. What you’re not aware of, though, is how endearing it is coming from you. 

ESFJ: looking and realizing that you wouldn’t trade the people surrounding you for anything in the world. Finally you feel as though you belong somewhere. No one is out of place, no one is more dominant than the others. Everyone just works perfectly. Everything is going so well. 

ISFJ:  You’re finally taking some time for yourself. A sick day away from the world. Away from responsibility. Away from all the people who, as you’re growing steadily aware, take your existence for granted. For today, however, you only exist for yourself. It’s a concept that scares but intrigues you, and you’re ready to dive into the unknown so long as you have the promise of returning to familiarity at the end of those wild twenty-four hours.  

ESTJ: The visualization of time as a linear structure. You’re looking back through the empty tunnel, full of the whispers of memories that form and influence your daily existence. Despite the urge to go back and indulge in the fleeting moments, you cannot allow yourself the pleasure. Instead, you take what you need from the sentiment, and keep it close at hand. Just in case. 

ISTJ: The door swings open, and you feel the weight of the world being pulled off of your shoulders. Heat from inside the building, mirroring the external temperature no longer feels to you like a burden. You’re back home, rushing inside to switch on the air conditioning, dust off the uncovered surfaces, and get back to life as you know it. 

I know every generation thinks theirs is the best, and I also know that generational thinking is flawed and constructed and ultimately harmful, but god damn it do I ever love Millennials. I love that we take selfies to capture moments when we feel good about ourselves. I love that we have created an entirely new sub-language in internet speak, that incorporates emojis and purposely incorrect punctuation and using capital letters for Emphasis in a way that means something completely different than other forms of emphasis like all caps or italicized text. I love that we embrace fandom culture and love our shows and bands as fiercely and unapologetically as we do. I love that we are entertained by watching strangers on YouTube play video games and could not care less if our parents don’t understand why we enjoy it. I love that we are a generation of women who know that external and internal misogyny is real, is an enormous problem, and are fighting back against it. I love that we romanticize consent. I love that we are constantly checking ourselves and each other for ignorance or problematic behavior. I love how quickly we learn lessons when someone calls us out for being wrong, and how willing we are to never make the same mistake again. I love how hard we work - I know so many people who are working two jobs and going to school and still manage to be there for their friends and keep up with family obligations. I don’t understand where older people get this idea that we are entitled. Literally I have never met anyone who expects less from life than a Millennial does. We have enormous, impossible dreams but we are not capable of being entitled because we literally expect the world to give us nothing. We are the generation whose parents beat us over the head with you can do anything!! and then had the rug pulled out from under us when it turned out that wasn’t true at all, and now we are all muddling through the chaos together and trying to figure out how to reconceptualize what we thought we knew. I love our casual cynicism, the way we casually wish for death but at the same time we value life so intensely. I love our complete refusal to accept the validity of power structures like institutional racism and the patriarchy and capitalism. I love that we are so immediately accepting of any and all sexualities or genders. I love that we are the generation that doesn’t let people on the internet get away with saying shitty things anonymously. I love that no Millennial has ever been willing to accept “that’s just the way it is” about something that shouldn’t be the way it is.

The world is about to get so much fucking better, in the next 10-20 years as the Millennial generation becomes adults in positions of power with the actual ability to create change instead of just wishing for it. Do not ever let anyone tell you that you’re stupid because you like the puppy filter on SnapChat. We are about to change the world, with cute, cartoon dog-ears in our selfies as we do.

It’s nearly four when Dean collapses on his bed, facedown. He’d been at the station all evening, waiting for Sam’s train to come in. After a six hour delay and some questionable vending machine food, the kid finally arrived, and they’d hightailed it back to the apartment. Sam is passed out on the couch, so exhausted he couldn’t even make it to his bedroom. 

Dean kicks his shoes off, twists out of his jacket, wriggles out of his jeans, and dumps it all off the side of the bed. He’s settling into the mattress, getting comfortable and relaxed, when his cellphone begins blaring the Star Trek theme song. Cas. Dean groans and maneuvers so that he’s hanging off the bed. He drags his pants back over to rummage through the pockets, successfully fishing out the offending device. He flips it open and presses it to his ear.

“Are you sleeping?” Comes Cas’ voice, clear and alert. There’s no panic in his tone, so Dean remains groggy.

“Yes,” he grumbles, resisting the urge to hang up.

“You don’t sound asleep. And you answered the phone, which means you cannot possibly be asleep.”

“Cas. Man. What is it?” Dean grunts, voice muffled slightly as he’s pushing his face into a pillow. 

“I had an odd dream.” Dean waits for him to continue. “You were married." 

He opens his eyes at that and snorts. ”Me? Married?“ 

There’s some shuffling on the other end, like Cas is sitting up in bed. Dean can imagine him, all bundled up in his blankets, clutching that clunky receiver, with one of those fluffy cats of his curled up at the footboard. "Yes, it was strange. You were married and you were never grumpy and you had a desk job and you went bowling every Thursday with a bunch of other married men. And she–your wife–baked all the time and she did your laundry and the two of you had boring, obligatory, weekly sex." 

Dean lets out a surprised laugh. "Boring sex?”


"You dreamt about me having sex?" 

Boring sex. It was completely un-erotic.“

He hums into the phone and pulls a pillow to his chest. “So you had a dream that I was unhappily married and you just had to call me up and tell me?” 

“You weren’t unhappy. You were just… not Dean.” There’s a soft clatter and it’s apparent that Castiel has gotten out of bed. Probably for a snack. 

“I’ll most likely never get married, Cas,” Dean says, and there’s the sound of a bag being opened. 

“I know.” Crunch crunch. “But it was still unsettling.” Crunch crunch crunch. “Not that I don’t want you to marry,” crunch, “I just can’t imagine it that way.” 

“How can you imagine it, then?” 

Castiel is quiet for a moment, and then the crunching resumes.