#worrying means queue suffer twice
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Unit Teambuilding - Sygna Suit Cynthia
Apparently, it has taken this long for SS Cynthia to be a good idea for me to pull for. I think she ran once before and I couldn’t for some reason, but nothing stopping me now! Anyway, SS Cynthia’s an old unit by now, but with grid expansions, there’s a good chance for something nice in the future. But does she need that boost, or is she doing alright?
General Overview
“Alright” is probably the best we can say.
The main problem is being a Dragon. There are tons of Dragon-type damage dealers, and for some reason, SS Cynthia is one of them. Granted, this has worked out recently, as it being Fighting type would be devastating if it couldn’t access Fighting Zone from her new Aura Sygna Suit. Speaking of, why does Cynthia have three sygna suits? Shouldn’t think just be “Anni Cynthia?” I don’t get it.
Kommo-o has two major drawbacks in my mind. One is that its main attack debuffs defense every use. This is painful, especially in Gauntlet where mixed offenses can be a thing. With no way to avoid this, it’s...rough. The other is the requirement for paralysis to kick off multipliers. Which (1) is restrictive, and (2) aren’t even that good. 20% move and 50% sync, oooooh, look at Numbers McGee over here.
SS Cynthia really focuses on one of two grid builds: pure power, or High Five. With natural High Five, and access to another on her grid, Cynthia’s able to gradually boost everything, which most importantly recovers that lost defense every time she syncs. It’s...honestly a more clever strategy than I initially gave it credit for, but it does suffer from diminishing returns. There’s also the option for Adrenaline 1. With Head Start 1 naturally, and Adrenaline 1 on grid, Cynthia’s in a position to fast-ramp twice. Not a great position, but a position.
Overall I think she’s serviceable if clumsy. Offensive stats are strong, but bulk and speed let her down without support, or double High Five with her taking each sync. Her self-setup technically exists, but her ability to boost crit rate requires her to be low HP, and X items on strikers are notoriously inefficient. Still, there’s been worse. Like Lance. Who can’t buff shit.
Team 1: SS Cynthia, SS Brendan, SS Steven
Okay, hear me out, Hoenn fans. SS Brendan can provide nearly max offensive benefits to SS Cynthia in two turns, with Cynthia only needing one X Sp Atk to cap offenses. How, you ask? SS Steven’s Speed Forme Deoxys, which cuts sync countdown by 2. With Cynthia’s Head Start, now you have -3, saving a full turn. But wait! SS Brendan can also pick up Adrenaline on his grid, and SS Steven can use Double Team after first sync for another -3. If you quad queue successfully, you’ve also saved a turn on second sync. If you didn’t, don’t worry, Cynthia’s trainer move also cuts a minimum of 1 sync cooldown, so you got it anyway. So you sync first with SS Brendan to mega evolve, capping crit for the team and giving, ideally, double sync buff, then sync with Cynthia to get the stat party rolling. In the interim, you have SS Cynthia and Brendan both spamming Dragonbreath for paralysis chances. Once successful, Cynthia can then go nuts with Clanging Scales, while Brendan debuffs special defense for maximum damage. Steven helps by maybe getting a flinch in or something, who knows.
Team 2: SS Cynthia, SC Jasmine, C!Elesa/P!Serena/Erika
If you’re picking up SC Jasmine this month, which you should if you haven’t, she’s an ideal partner to SS Cynthia as well. Not just for the buffs, though they are nice, but because of Safety Net. SS Cynthia cutting her own defense, as well as having less than ideal bulk for when crits happen, means she can be threatened pretty hard by AoE moves in Gauntlet. Safety Net blocks those attempts and keeps her alive. C!Elesa or P!Serena are options to immediately spread paralysis, which kicks off multipliers and frees up some energy on the grid for Cynthia. If you don’t have them, Erika’s a fine alternative to hit paralysis and potentially debuff special defense.
Team 3: SS Cynthia, Lucas, SC Lillie
Lucas has Dragon Zone, which is the big multiplier I’ve been ignoring here. SS Brendan likely does better overall, but I put SC Lillie here to remind you that she can paralyze foes that attack her. That’s a thing she can do. Which can save Cynthia a lot of time and stress.
Team 4: SS Cynthia, MU Torchic/Drake, Erika/Support Clefable
Okay so maybe you don’t have any of that stuff. Maybe you just have mostly F2P tools. This could work, maybe. MU Torchic can cover for Cynthia’s buffing needs, while Erika supplies the paralysis. It’s a much less efficient option, but the core of her needs is present.
As an alternative, Drake has Team Sharp Entry on his grid, and can give up the defense buffs for Hostile Environment. Focus on inflicting paralysis and buffing first, with Cynthia hopefully taking a bit of damage, and getting +2 crit on her trainer move. Support Clefable gets Let’s Brainstorm for +1 special attack/speed, an ideal combo for Cynthia, and has a Potion to help keep the party alive. And look, this is a situation where Drake’s actually better than Marley for once! Because Cynthia specifically needs paralysis. That is what you are good for, sir, and you’re giving up one of your defense boosts’ MPR for it. Good day.
Final Thoughts
I think what interests me about SS Cynthia is that, looking at her ability to salvage an F2P roster, she’s really not doing so hot. She doesn’t synergize particularly well with most options, in large part because DeNA refuses to give us a good F2P Sp Atk/crit buffer. But with other modern meta tools? SS Cynthia feels like she’s got some impressive possibilities. The SS Brendan/Speed Form SS Steven combo in particular seems like it’d be a ton of fun.
But I definitely don’t think she’s anything necessary. Dragon damage is really common, up there with Psychic, Fire, Grass, and Water. You probably have Dragon damage dealers who get the job done already, what with Cyrus and Zinniquaza. So I wouldn’t say definitely go for her, but she’s not a bad consolation prize if you’re going for one of the other two.
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Medical jargon under the cut along with some venting. Might take a break to collect myself.
So, unsurprisingly, I am not pre-diabetic, thus making me not needing the Ozempic like my gastro seemed to think I was. It’s almost like he should have listened to me when I had said I needed some sort of tool to figure out the percentages of fat, muscle, water, etc. He also forgets that I suffer from inflammation issues, which can cause weight gain. But, y’know, I’m in the 40+ range on the BMI! I need to have it! Never mind the fact that they just voted to phase out BMI, but whatever.
In all honesty, if he was that goddamn worried about my weight, he should have filed for the prior authorization with my insurance. I had just seen my primary care doctor, he would have said something if he was that concerned that it wasn’t a fairly normal blend of percentages.
That being said, I just feel… gross. Inhuman. I hate talking to doctors about my weight because none of them really seem to want to help me and like… shame me because I don’t have time or energy to exercise. Like, hello? I had to swallow my tears taking my shoes off today when I finally got home from work two hours late because my feet were in so much pain. My legs swell so much that if I wear crew cut socks and skinny jeans, you can see where my socks are on my calves. That isn’t normal.
And speaking of work, I’m about ready to say fuck it and quit. Drain my down payment funds to pay off some of the debts I have and just do my own thing. I’m so sick and tired of being miserable at this place. Of listening to my manager bitch that they need help in the pharmacy, but nobody wants to do it.
Hello??? I’ve been telling you for the entire two years I’ve been with the company that I want to learn the pharmacy??? Don’t fucking tell me that nobody wants to help out in the pharmacy, because can’t keep saying that that’s where I want to go.
And the manager really pissed me off today. My blood work to check my Stelara levels is very strict. I have to get the blood work done the day before my injection. Not two days before. Not a week before. The day before. My next injection is this upcoming Saturday. Which means this Friday I need to get the blood work done. I gave her an ultimatum: I can either come in late or I can leave early. She goes “neither, it’s inventory day. You need to be here”. No the fuck I don’t. I’m not the one counting shit. An outside company (or which I called the cops on their staff twice last year for violently disruptive behavior) does. Tell the other shift lead that he has to come in then, if you seriously think you need FOUR MANAGERS in. By the way: I’ve been there for inventory both years I’ve worked there; we stand around and do jack shit. There’s zero point in there being four managers on at the same goddamn time.
But, y’know what? They wanna see what the stress of this shit has done to me? They can see it. I’m not holding back any tears or outbursts for the next two days. I am in so much pain right now, I can’t even sleep. I wake up in the middle of the night and my body is acting like I’m in a night terror, even though I’m not. I have welts in some of my joints because they’re so inflamed, things rubbing against my skin is causing sores. I can barely walk, my legs are in so much pain. I can’t stand upright my back is in so much pain, but hunching over makes it worse. I can barely lift my arms over my head, even when I’m laying down (which makes sleeping difficult because I sleep with my arms over my head).
All this being said… I need to take a break. I’ll throw stuff in my queue, but I don’t think I’m going to actively post for a few days. Just so I can think about some things. I will still be reachable through private messages, though! It might just take a little bit for me to respond.
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Snap Crackle Pop - Castiel x Reader
Summary/Request: @previouslyforgotten requested- I know I gave you a request before. But I’m going to do it again because I have a better idea! Introducing cas to pop rocks. Where like the reader was eating them and cas could hear the sound it made and he becomes curious?
Pairing: Castiel x Reader
Word Count: ~1.3k
Warnings: none! Just fluffy fluff!
A/N: okay so I know you sent in a request before this and I’m so sorry that’s not out yet, but I really loved this prompt and I had to get this out as soon as I was able to! I know it’s super duper short and I’m sorry about that, but I hope this is what you were wanting! If not let me know!
Life as a hunter didn’t have many high moments. Most of your time was spent either researching, being thrown around by various supernatural creatures, or downing as much alcohol as possible to stop thinking about the pain from your injuries of your last hunt. That’s why, when you got your hands on an old childhood treat, you were over the moon.
The crackling sensation paired with the sugary taste dancing over your tongue to create the perfect memory of life as a kid, downing as much of this substance as you could. As the snapping sound subsided, you picked up the little paper bag labelled as Pop Rocks and tipped another mouthful back to start the whole process over.
You let out a small giggle at the feeling of the sugar cracking against your tongue. You opened your mouth just slightly to let the sound out, allowing it to echo in the otherwise silent bunker library. Sam and Dean had gone out on a hunt of their own a couple hours away, insisting it would likely only take a day or two to complete. A simple salt and burn, they said, so you decided it was safe enough for you to stay back and keep an eye on the bunker. This, of course, was code for you lounging around in your PJs doing whatever happened to catch your fancy at the time. This time you remained absolutely enamored by the sweet treat clutched between your fingers.
Your teeth crunched down on the little remaining fizzy sugar coating your tongue in preparation of another round. Just as you shook out the last of the granules from the bottom of the bag, a familiar ruffle of wings sounded from behind you. You whirled around in your seat to face the raven haired angel that just appeared.
“Cas!” You cried joyously, the sound muffled by the mouthful of sugary candy crackling seemingly endlessly. The angel adjusted the lapels of his trench coat and fixed you with a signature head tilt.
“Hello, (Y/N),” he hummed out in his usual gravelly baritone. Castiel took a step towards you. Azure eyes bubbled with pure confusion. “What are you doing?”
“Having fun!” You replied simply, picking up a new bag of Pop Rocks and shaking it to drive your point home. Each time you opened your mouth to speak, the crackling on your tongue grew louder, and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the tickling sensation on your tongue.
None of this seemed to make the situation any clearer for the poor trench coat clad angel. He shuffled slightly closer as if to peer at the bag of candy held between your fingers, but instead he focused in on your face. “What’s that sound?” He questioned, voice slightly alarmed. “That cracking sound, what is that? Is that you? Are you okay? Is it a witch, did a witch put a curse on you?” His words picked up speed until they tumbled endlessly from his mouth in a flurry of confusion and worry. He reached his hands out and cupped your cheeks so he could easily tilt your head from side to side in search of any bodily harm. His calloused thumbs trailed over the corners of your mouth, brushing against some of the sugar stuck to your lips.
You tried to reply, but between the mouthful of candy and Cas’s palms pressing your cheeks together, it wasn’t particularly easy to speak. Instead you were only able to open your mouth a bit, releasing some of the sounds from the Pop Rocks candy.
The seraph’s eyes widened as the sound grew louder. He released his hold on your cheeks and instead held your chin with his pointer finger and thumb. He tugged your jaw open to examine the heap of sugar melting away in your mouth. “What… What is that?”
He reached up with his other hand, pointer finger held out prepared to poke at the substance. You noticed this just in time and were barely able to grab his wrist in your own hand. “It’s Pop Rocks, Cas,” you informed him, once more shaking the bag to grab his attention. Icy blue hued eyes flickered over to the little black paper bag in question.
“Is this dangerous?” He queried, still quite clearly concerned for your well being. He let your jaw go and instead reached out to take the bag from you, handling it with the utmost care.
A soft chuckle escaped your lips at his naivety. “No, no Cas. It’s not dangerous at all. It’s just candy!”
“This is candy?”“Just candy.”His brows furrowed in confusion. Castiel used two fingers to peer inside at the sizzly suspect. “Then why does it make such a noise? And how?”
“It makes the noise because it’s fun. It feels cool. And don’t ask me how it works, I’m just a hunter. No scientist background here.” You plucked the package from his hands and poured out a good amount into the palm of your hand. “You know what? Here, hold out your hand.”
He cast you a suspicious look, but after a moment, conceded and held out his hand palm up. You raised the bag to him and tipped it to allow a bit of the candy to pool in the creases of his palm. You poured about half as much as you would usually pour for yourself, not wanting to overwhelm the poor seraphim. Once his portion was to your liking, you set the bag down on the library table and raised your cupped palm in the air in a mock toast. “Bon appetit!” You cheered with a smile before dumping the sugary concoction into your mouth once again. The buzz of the sugar was beginning to hit you now, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. A quick sugar rush with your favorite angel sounded quite nice, if you were being honest.
Castiel watched you expectantly, and as you motioned for him to follow suit, he was quick to comply. The Pop Rocks disappeared past his lips and instantly began crackling once they hit his tongue. His eyes widened at the sensation, and his face contorted in what seemed like shock. The muscles in his jaw worked relentlessly to shift the sugar about, never keeping it in one place too long as it continued to pop against his mouth.
You allowed a moment of only popping to pass before you spoke up. “So,” you began, voice once again muffled by the candy. “What do you think, angel?”
The tell tale sound of teeth crunching on sugar could be heard. Cas quickly chipmunked the remaining candy in his cheeks to reply. “I…” He paused to allow a smile to form on his lips. “I like this. This is quite… fun.”
Your face mirrored his in an instant. You hooked your foot around one of the legs of the chair next to you and tugged it out, patting the seat for Castiel. “Well, that’s great, because I bought all the Pop Rocks from the convenience store in town and I need someone to eat them with me so I don’t accidentally eat too many and explode.”
Castiel froze in place, one hand resting on the back of the chair you pulled out for him. “Is that possible?”
A smile and a laugh was all it seemed to take to release the tension from Castiel’s shoulders. “No, it’s not. Don’t worry about that, angel. Just sit down and let’s have some fun before the brothers get back home, yeah?”
With that, the angel sat down by your side, and you indulged in two of your favorite, most simple of pleasures: nostalgic candy and quality time with one special angel.
#Castiel x reader#cas x reader#castiel#supernatural fanfiction#Supernatural fanfic#supernatural#supernatural imagines#supernatural imagine#supernatural x reader#spn x reader#spn#fanfic#fanfiction#writing#writer#fluff#cute#castiel/reader#castiel/you#worrying means queue suffer twice
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❝ i would like to take this opportunity to reassure muggle followers that the amusing creatures described hereafter are fictional & cannot hurt you. to wizards , i say merely: draco dormiens nunquam titillandus ! ❞ —— written by kim !
#💼* ﾟ╯「 a chaser of beasts & magical creatures 」/ ( self promo )#self promo for ts#hp rp#fantastic beasts rp#indie rp#( i loved my )#( other promo but i saw this on a whim and just....wELP )#( two promos in )#( one day IM SORRY )#( im a sucker for greensssssss uwu )#( also im )#( usually shit at making promos#hence why i commission people to make )#( them for me but i made this and im so proud? lET ME HAVE THIS )#( i will use both bc i can xD )#💼* ﾟ╯「 worrying means queue suffer twice ! 」/ ( queue )
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is it too late for 'animal within'? :O
your animal within ( according to newt ) ❈ ― @circusglass
“ you make me think of an occamy. ” the comment is offhand, sounding nearly as casual as it does like the reasoning behind it should be OBVIOUS. the look on molly’s face when newt glances over a few seconds later, however, informs him that he may need to explain himself.
“ well--- you are both bright and colourful, very... beautiful. it’s what most will notice about you before anything else, especially as the eye tends to be DRAWN OVER by your flashiness.
“ and much like the occamy, there is far more to you than mere appearances. ...even if that’s where you seem to prefer to KEEP the focus. you aren’t as quick to defense as an occamy is, but you are incredibly aggressive when it’s required of you --- something that people don’t tend to anticipate, i think, simply by LOOKING at you. and, like how an occamy can shrink and grow to a size fitting of the available space, i’ve noticed that you’re able to do something rather similar with your personality. ” a pause, and he frowns, wondering if he’s managed to word his thoughts in a way that makes sense. “ ---i just mean... depending on circumstance, you’re able to dial back some of your more, erm... ostentatious traits? or even INFLATE them, should a situation call for it. ”
falling quiet then, the wizard continues preparing various meals for his creatures, toying with the idea of leaving his thoughts there. it’s certainly ENOUGH of the explanation to end it and be understandable, though it does lack the final detail. a detail that might be... sensitive. he isn’t sure.
“ occamies hatch from eggs of pure silver. most people only see the value in them for that, in... where they’ve come from. in their PAST. they fail to see that the occamy’s true value is within the creature itself, and NOT in the things it has unknowingly shed. ”
#circusglass#❇ ― 〈 owl post 〉 asks: ic.#ν ― 〈 from ministry to magizoology 〉 main: i.#me while writing this: have him call molly beautiful to throw her off the scent of the deeper shit#anyway that last bit is an attempt at referencing lucien and i hope that comes across?#i don't think newt knows much about That Whole Thing but i'd like to think he's at least aware#of molly's unique situation#tbh he doesn't care who molly was before he was molly. newt likes him the way he is now b y e#❇ ― 〈 worrying means you suffer twice 〉 queue.
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@hopefulaspires || Tina
“ Tina. ” Newt’s fingers, SCRATCHED from his creatures ( one finger still bleeding through its wrap ), reach to touch her hand, then intertwining their fingers through each other. Her touche is so WARM, so gentle. When they are close like this, he feels as if he is HOME. But, now more than ever, he wants HER to feel like she’s home; safe. “ The nightmares you had last night ... I’m worried they’re getting worse. ”
#THREAD // HOPEFULASPIRES#WORRYING MEANS YOU SUFFER TWICE // NEWT SCAMANDER#WHY DON'T YOU JUST MEET ME IN THE MIDDLE (ANNOYING NOISE) // QUEUE
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i hope this isn't rude to ask, but why do you write dark content topics like noncon and abuse? i'm a s/a and abuse survivor who had no problem with these things before my trauma but afterwards i became angry at people who made such content. now i'm trying to remember that people have different reasons for writing these things and i've been asking writers what their thoughts are. i've been following you for a while and i know you're kind and not ill intentioned in your writing, so i was wondering what your views are. this isn't meant to be hateful at all and i am just curious and want to understand. if this makes you uncomfortable feel free to delete it!
Hello anon,
Don't worry, this isn't rude to ask at all. I respect that you want to understand and this is from curiosity rather than being hateful (which I don't take your ask as such) and that you remember that there's a person behind the work. To be honest, I don't really know how to answer your question so I might go on a tangent. I hope you don't take my words as fact or my entire thought process but I just want to say:
I don't support rape or abuse. I don't want anyone to think that just because I write it, I fantasize about it or condone it in any way. I don't. I'm not trying to offend or make anyone angry, that's why I tag everything twice and add a read more. It's your choice whether to believe me or not, I just ask that you don't harass me under those assumptions.
To put it bluntly, it's just writing to me. When you see people write or do something really obscure or relating to dark content, you're completely right to assume it's because they're interested in those topics. But that's not necessarily the same for everything and everyone. I can't speak on the behalf of every single writer out there but personally, it's just something to explore from an omniscient point of view. I'm not going to bullshit you or sugarcoat my words, I'm not a survivor and the harassment and abuse that I have suffered aren't traumatic to me. That's why I can think that way and it's not because I have any ill-intent or I'm trying to undermine or pretend that those issues aren't serious. They are. Personally, I would get very upset as well because, in my mind, someone is taking something very personal and traumatic and doing what? Writing about it with fictional characters that they want to fuck? It feels insulting in a way. Naturally, I have no idea what you feel but that's how I would react.
But it's similar to any murder/mafia au or even yandere. Does that mean I like killing people or obsessive behaviour? No, absolutely not. When I write a character or direct a movie and someone is shooting someone, does that mean I'm into violence or condone guns? No, that was not the intention at all. We can say it's "not the same thing" and you're totally valid to think that way. But for me, it is. I'm not pretending as if murder or abuse doesn't exist or it's something to want. When it's in shows or books, no one really bats an eye to that. Maybe it's the stigma with fanfic authors that we're all 13-year old quotev writers/readers (I used to be one so I'm really just making fun of myself here) that we rightfully assume it's because we like those topics or we fantasize about being in those situations. Because why else would I want to read or write about x reader fics with those topics?
You don't need me to tell you that it's reasonable to be angry at people that make dark content. I myself, don't really like dark content that much either. I don't daydream about being used and I don't like feeling upset. Which I guess doesn't make sense especially for the type of fics I write. But when I actually write, there's a major disconnect between fiction and reality and I understand that it's not like that for everyone else. Writers pov compared to a reader's pov I feel is very different. I can be a selfish person and write this way because I've never been through it. But it's never from a place of disrespect and I apologize if it feels that way but I can't control what you feel. All I ask is that you read the tags and determine whether or not you want to associate with it. To me, it's just words on a paper and action queues I'm giving to imaginary characters. I'm not fantasizing about anything, I don't even like sex that much. I just think it's something to write that I feel like doing. For example, I don't care for Venti at all. He's cute I guess but I don't want to fuck him. But I still write for him and how I write makes it seem as if I actually look at Venti that way. I don't, it's just writing. I guess it's the same question as to why do you write in general. Because it's fun? I wouldn't really call it "fun" and more of a hobby that I like to do. This doesn't really make sense since people that do anything as a hobby naturally assume they have a passion or like it. In a sense, it's kind of like this: You enjoy drawing but if someone asked you to draw a monster, yes you could do it because you like to draw but it's not like you're putting your heart or deep emotional thoughts into it. It's just a drawing of a monster. You've never had an experience with a monster (in a fictional sense) so there's nothing for you to be traumatized with. There might be some aspects, spikes or tentacles, that make you uncomfortable, sure. And people can find deeper meanings in your work and make assumptions when there isn't, to you it's just an image.
I know this is an incredibly shitty way to explain why I write dark content because it sounds like I don't care or I think abuse/noncon subjects don't matter because it's "just words on a paper". I get it, in movies when the protagonist is abused or has been a survivor of rape and that doesn't go anywhere. That it's just a way for the movie to pity the main character or to explain why they act a certain way, it feels cheap and manufactured and I hate it. But I always believe that as long as you aren't doing anything illegal or endangering yourself + others, I don't care what you do. When I see topics that I personally find disgusting or don't like, I just move on. They aren't hurting me in any way and they're allowed to write what they want to write. I know that isn't the same for everyone and that kind of thinking is very romanticized but I like to think that I'm smart enough to know when that thinking breaks or isn't acceptable.
Sorry that I keep drawing comparisons, it's just how I like to explain things and it's easier for me to explain my thoughts that way. My writing is like a snow globe. Sure it has some real connotations with the snow that comes from nature, but it's not real snow. It's an overly pretty, dream-like world, that can never be cold and doesn't show how awful living with a lot of snow does to you. People that have never seen snow, they'll love it because it doesn't remind them of actual snow since they've never experienced it. But I have, I live in NA. Except I understand that it's just a snow globe. Sure it might make someone uncomfortable for any reason, but it doesn't for me and at the end of the day, it's just an object to me. You can take that as a very selfish way of thinking but I'm not going to throw my snowglobe in the trash just because someone doesn't like it. I know for a fact that anything I write isn't meant to trigger or make anyone upset, I write it because I want to explore those topics. I don't think it's hot, I don't think it's okay, and I don't condone it in real life. But it's just writing to me, it's just fiction, it's a way for me to explore those topics in a way that I am comfortable. If you don't like it and it triggers you, that is completely okay and understandable, but that wasn't my intention and I'm not going to stop.
I hope that answers your question and gives you a bit of insight into my views. I know my way of thinking isn't for everyone and you're allowed to disagree with it. Dark content is a very thin line that a lot of people aren't comfortable with and I acknowledge that. I don't even like dark content that much but I'm not going to stop writing about it. I'll tag everything, crop away topics that trigger people, and to be honest, I don't find myself writing about dark content ever unless an anon asks for it. But if you don't like me or disagree with what I've said, the block button is right there.
- 🐑
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For anonymous: a series of answers/clarifications/amendments on The Goldenrod Revisions! (I've answered these all in one post just to make it easier). Thank you so much for the asks, this helped me a) clarify my thoughts b) solve some canon continuity issues so I really appreciate them!
THANK U for agreeing to answer my questions! I'll have to ask them separately so they're not in 1 super-long impossible-to-read ask. I have 3 about 15x19, 1 about 15x20, 2 about 15x21, 2 about 15x22, and 2 about 15x23. quick disclaimer: i don't mean any offense at all by my question count! I didn't even notice these oddities the first time I read this; once I read it and accepted it as the true canon, I took a closer look and then noticed. but plz don't think these made your fic any less great!!
No worries anon! It is literally my pleasure to answer them and I am VERY very happy to find discrepancies with canon in the fic - then I can hopefully fix them and make the fic better :) Also I really appreciate the very systematic way you laid all these out, it really helped me reply, and also subsequently make a couple of edits to the fic!
For 15x19:
1. Why did Chuck trust Michael with the task of killing Jack? As God he should know Michael betrayed him in 15.08; did he expect Michael to disobey him again?
I think in this case we're/Chuck is relying on knowledge from the canon 15.19, i.e. Chuck would assume the outcome predicted by the show - that Michael WOULD betray the Winchesters/the world in order to please his father. So God assumed Michael would act the way he did in Inherit The Earth. But additionally, Chuck isn't actually very keyed-in to his own characters' motivations (esp. when love is involved) or very attached to certain results - he basically sends Michael and Lucifer to kill Jack because he figures it will entertain him no matter what happens - whether Michael and Lucifer kill each other, whether they kill the Winchesters/Jack, etc. - either Jack dies this way or Chuck will think of another way to do it.
2. How was Sam able to kill Lucifer? It was said only an archangel could kill another archangel with the archangel blade; was this a total lie or could Sam do it since he's Lucifer's true vessel? (plz don't change it to have Michael kill him; Sam being the one to do it was perfect, I just wanna understand how he could do it).
So glad you raised this because I honestly totally forgot! But now that you have, I have corrected that lore continuity with a line about biblical metaphors.
3. How is Rowena alive? She said she was dead in 15.08, so I initially assumed as a witch and the Queen of Hell she found a way to travel between Hell and Earth despite being dead. But then Sam says "Michael could've killed you" and then Chuck kills her twice in 15.21, both of which indicate she's alive here - does this mean Michael resurrected her when she summoned him?
God okay this is like - please call me out if this is incorrect or still confusing - but it's kind of like, based on the very inconsistent and confusing lore of the SPN afterlife that I assume Rowena is 'dead' but also 'alive' in the sense that Crowley was 'alive' and is now 'dead'. Does that make sense? She's not 'alive' as a human but rather as a demon (or something like it). So as Queen of Hell and a presumably demonic-adjacent entity, when she's 'killed' she gets sent to the Empty now vs. being 'killed' as a human and going to Heaven/Hell. (Based on when we see her in Hell, I assume she possesses her own body? Unclear. Just go with it. They've never been great with what it means to show vessels in Heaven/Hell etc.)
4. I thought asked all I wanted to know about Goldenrod but I just thought of 1 more thing: I don’t get why some dialogue implies Michael was dead? He mentions how he “found himself back on Earth” and tells the Empty it couldn’t stop Chuck from resurrecting him & Lucifer, but prior to 15.19 we last saw Michael leaving the bunker with Adam alive and well in 15.08, and it seemed like he was gonna stay on Earth for Adam’s sake. So what happened to him?
Oh that's a great point! I think that is actually just a confusing choice on my part that Chuck killed absolutely everyone including Michael/Adam in 15.18 Despair and THEN chose to resurrect Michael (but not Adam) alongside Lucifer when he was bored/wanting to kill Jack. I made some slight adjustments in-text to hopefully make it less confusing because I know that's different to the lore of canon 15.19 Inherit the Earth.
For 15x20:
1. How did the angels and demons in the Empty wake up? Did Michael use the last of his grace to wake everyone up? Were they already awake thanks to Jack blowing up in 15x18 or did they somehow sleep through that? (Not expanding on the Empty's claim that "you made it loud" is one of countless things I'll never forgive the actual show for, so THANK YOU for taking the show back to the Empty in the first place; I was just curious about this one element.)
So the Empty was already 'loud' according to canon, but since canon is vague on what exactly that means (thank you writers!...) I got the impression it meant the Empty wasn't 'peaceful' anymore but still powerful enough to suppress the beings inside, like the beings in there were awake and suffering but unable to rebel. Sort of what we see with Cas in this version of 15.20. Maybe like, additional suffering in sleep paralysis? Regardless, Michael does expend his grace to weaken the Empty enough that other beings wake up and/or are able to fight back and exist outside their own personal nightmare chamber. So whatever your impression of 'loud' is with regards to the other beings in there, assume Michael was able to free them from the Empty's control.
For 15x21:
1. Having Jack & Amara take out Hell & Purgatory was a BRILLIANT idea; I love that they ended all the places of suffering and changed the system. I just wonder - what happened to the souls and the demons still in Hell at that point, and the Leviathans and other monsters still in Purgatory? Were they just wiped out completely and sent to the Empty? Or did Jack turn them human and add them to the cycle? (I don't think the show clarified whether or not Leviathans have souls, so...)
No matter whether they were monster or demon or even angel, they would eventually be given human life. I broke it down to 'human enough souls' vs. 'not human enough souls'. Human-enough were immediately brought to life with memories and versions of their original bodies, and not-human-enough were sent to the Soul Queue to be born as infants. I assume Leviathan and most demons fall into 'not human enough', therefore, whatever tiny microbe of personality/soul they had was added to the cycle of rebirth and would be translated to a new human soul. Of course this might have a WILDLY different impact on the world depending on how many people go to hell in this system, how many people were 'human enough', etc.... But we're basically fudging those numbers a bit one way or another just to give certain characters the revival they deserve haha.
2. Did Cas drown and die after Chuck threw him in the lake and Jack left their limbo-dream world? If so, did he go through the same question-&-answer situation with Death that Sam & Dean did? Or was he with Jack & Amara when they rebuilt the world?
Cas was already dead/dying even when he was talking to Jack, he was sort of in a different version of the 'Veil' per se. VERY wishy-washy, but basically he and Jack were on a different dream-plane that they were jolted to in the chaos of the disorganised no-Death world.
I think Cas, Rowena, Lucifer, Michael, etc. as beings who were killed after the snap is a bit ambiguous. Rowena and Lucifer, I think, as entities who were demonic-dead or Empty-level-dead pre-Snap probably went through the reincarnation Yes/No Death questionnaire. Cas and Michael might not have since they were technically 'alive' and human before the Snap. Regardless, I think they probably wouldn't remember the interaction even if they had it.
The reason the question happened to the Winchesters AND that they remember it is Main Character Syndrome... they were the only people left alive when Jack and Amara did a hard reset, and that honestly Death took time to chill/exposition at them because he likes them. Really. Despite all appearances. Or respects them enough to let them know what's gone down, anyway.
Metatextually, it was really just to reaffirm to the audience that Dean (and Sam) want to live, in contrast to 15.20 Carry On 😅
3. Did all the snapped people (Eileen, Adam, the Waywards, etc.) also go through the Death question-&-answer process but not remember it, or did Jack & Amara just send them back?
Snapped people were reset automatically! Normally the new-humans also wouldn't remember their interactions with Death/reapers, just like in canon lore when someone like Dean has a near-death experience.
I realise this whole section and various other lore reformation parts of the fic aren't SUPER clear on specific logistics but on some occasions I'm like, I've done enough info-dumping, I don't want to overwrite exposition. But if you think it's worth clarifying certain points let me know and I can try to do so!
For 15x22:
1. The twenty something blonde guy in sunglasses getting hot tea, is that Belphegor? sure sounds like it but I wanted to confirm.
Yep!
2. Since Death mentioned that Jack only resurrected the angels, demons, and monsters from the Empty who had enough of a soul, and since all the human souls from the Veil went to Heaven as confirmed by Kevin's presence, how exactly are Anna's human parents and Bela alive now?
Great question - 1) I SOMEHOW FORGOT ANNA'S PARENTS DIED? Complete screw up on my part, I don't know how that happened. I fixed this so it's her grandparents now. 2) Bela was sent to Hell as part of her deal, so I was assuming she was a demon by this point in canon (since it would be... MANY Hell-years since she died.) Therefore she had a 'human' enough demon soul to be put back as a human.
3. Oh, and the tall woman with the flyer in 15.22; who is this supposed to be? Hannah I’m guessing?
To be honest I didn't have anyone in particular in mind for that scene; it was kind of a catch-all for missing characters like, it COULD be Hannah. It could be Raphael. Hell, it could be Abbadon. I didn't want to do a full shot of every single person missing from the cast who had died (esp since like - we wouldn't know who they were anyway! Their bodies would be different). So this one is literally just fill-in-the-blank. But if I had to assign a character there I'd say it would probably be one of the more arrogant angels like Raphael or Uriel.
For 15x23:
1. How is Bobby in the Roadhouse with the gang? 10x17 seemed to imply the angels were about to throw him in the dungeons to punish him for helping Cas; did Ash hack him out of prison, or was he never imprisoned at all? Also, is Jack not surprised to see another Bobby in Heaven because the boys already told him there was another Bobby besides the one he knows from Apocalypseverse? (I was half-expecting him to comment about that and confuse Bobby).
Oh that's a great point! I think that's another sort of fill in the blank since it's been five years since 10.17... even if he was in prison of some kind, I think it's likely either Ash helped him get out in the same way he helped everyone else, and since the angels were extremely short-staffed I doubt getting Bobby suitably imprisoned/punished was their top priority. But honestly I'm not super clear on how the angels intended to punish Bobby, I don't think canon is clear either... like, We Just Don't Know.
Finally I'd like to know, has Sam proposed to Eileen yet by the end of the final episode? The script doesn't mention a ring on her finger, and as Sam's fiancee, I'd assume she'd also have carved her name on the table. Sam mentions the innuendos Dean has said "in the past year," so it's been a while since Jack's prayer scene, yet Cas says Dean & Claire's argument was the last time they spoke, and it doesn't seem likely to me that Dean wouldn't call Claire in a year given how close they are...
Nope! I think Sam is saying 'I'm going to marry her' as a declaration of certainty of his feelings and faith in the future, not neccessarily as something that immediately happens. With regards to 'in the past year', that referred to the period when Eileen was alive during s15 as well! I assume Dean did teasing off-screen (and I mean, he did plenty on-screen too.)
I honestly think that Sam and Dean are just very very busy in the aftermath of the events of the 15.20 reset, like they have to deal with the new world AND try to wrangle all these hunters into this new system of collaboration. I didn't put Eileen on the table because she isn't there in the finale and because I do think the Sam/Dean/Cas/Jack family unit was a bit more central and important to the show, but maybe they add her (and any possible kids, if they have any) later on. God, imagine generations of hunters and/or Winchesters carving on that table. Sacred Artefact...
(1) Ok that's all the questions I have. Again, so sorry to blow up your inbox - I really appreciate your willingness to clarify these things! If there are some things you'd rather not explain and leave ambiguous, I totally get that. And in spite of these aforementioned confusing parts, I still ADORE your fic and will continue to read it whenever I feel like re-"watching" how Supernatural really ended! Thank you so much!! .... (2) I’m SO sorry to overload u! I know I asked a lot and I didn’t mean to sound like a hater saying “none of ur story makes sense”; that’s not what I meant at all! If this was a regular good ol fix it fic I wouldn’t have said anything but since u said u wanted it to wrap up the show as replacement canon, I thought maybe I should point out places that didn’t line up. But take as MUCH time as you need! Good for you working to meet your deadlines; I hope you succeeded!! And again I really appreciate you taking the time to answer whenever you have time—absolutely no rush!! Have a GREAT Memorial Day Weekend!!!
Anon thank you SO SO much for all these questions, as you can see it really helped me identify problems or straight up errors in my work wrt continuity and I'm so happy that means I can improve it. If any of the answers weren't clear or you think I should modify the fic to make certain things clearer than they are right now (other than the things I said I'd fix in-text for sure) let me know! It's really been a pleasure answering them too, I'm sorry it took me so long to get around to it, I actually went back and proofed/edited the whole fic as part of adding some of these corrections in (and that took like... three weeks...) and as you said, it's very important to me to get it as true to canon as possible so - yeah, just, once again, thank you!! You're wonderful! ♥♥♥
#my fic#anonymous#ask#I should make fic-specific tags. someone remind me to go back and re-tag this blog with those sigh#every time I post on this blog I say that every single time#on round like. 20 of corrections now for this fic#post-posting#'goldenrod' revisions. laughable#we're easily on second cherry revisions now#the goldenrod revisions#my meta
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camryn & austin
big spoon/little spoon: austin unless he takes too long to take initiative then in an impatient fit camryn just goes for it. she just wants to cuddle.
favorite non-sexual activity: they like to take little day trips <3 they like hiking or going out to the lake or that cabin in the family to just hang out and be out in nature. camryn's been trying to take him on more little trips out to the city, just to try and show austin see how much fun we could have if we lived here....
who uses all the hot water: camryn. she just likes to take her time doing all her little womanly things and getting nice and clean and soft. i don’t think austin’s shy about hitting the hot water but she’s definitely worse.
most trivial thing they fight over: i just don’t think they sweat the little stuff. like idk austin is a) nonconfrontational and b) flexible so like if anything i think something that would but camryn is just worrying that he feels like passively about their relationship but that’s not really trivial.
what has a season pass on their dvr/who controls the netflix queue: camryn. austin is agreeable ( aka: zones in and out when they’re sitting around watching stuff anyway ) and lets her turn on whatever she wants. i think she does try a lot of the time to find something they’d both enjoy though and takes it as a victory when he snaps out of whatever train of thought he’s enraptured in to chuckle at whatever short lived 2010s sitcom she’s trying to introduce him too.
who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: camryn. she’s just better on the phone that’s all.
who steals the blankets: camryn but again she does also love to wallow him so i don’t think he’d suffer too much because of it. just instead of a blanket on him he gets an adult woman who is also wrapped in a bunch of blankets.
who leaves their stuff around: austin. not excessively he’s just forgetful. he doesn’t mean to leave multiple half-filled glasses of water out all over it just happens. i think camryn makes a mess while she’s in the middle of something but she does pretty good at cleaning it up when she’s done.
who remembers to buy the milk: austin but after camryn reminds him twice before he goes to work and texts him at the end of the day. but you know what? that’s still his win.
who cooks normally?: camryn. she tried to be the kind of cute girl who gets her boyfriend to help her in the kitchen but ultimately she’s a bit of a control freak about food so he’s more than welcome to sit at the counter and enjoy a nice cold beer, keep her company and all that, but she’s cooking. they do have like planned takeout nights though fridays they usually order from some favorite local places ( even if the foodie in camryn is so tempted to try new things from some of the fancy new joins that are coming with ballard’s expansion ). then sundays they order pizza <3
how often do they fight?: not often. i think like as they get ready to enter like a Real Long-Term Potentially Marriage relationship place they’re having like more conversations about their future which is testing but they’re not really fighting it’s just like a long conversation where they’re sorting some stuff out.
what do they do when they’re away from each other?: they are not away from each other. but if they are it’s a nightly check in kind of deal unless they have like something specific to say during the day. just a quick little love you/goodnight/miss you moment and they’d be the type to just wait and like really debrief/talk about what happened while they were apart when they’re together again
nicknames for each other?: nothing too out of the blue. baby/babe probably most common, camryn likes to throw in a handsome/good-looking kind of moment here and there. i don’t know how like creative austin would get but her family throws around cam/cammy and i think he’d pick up on that
what would they get each other for gifts?: i think they’re both pretty basic gift givers. camryn would kind of keep in the vein of outdoorsy stuff for him, maybe like clothes knowing that he’s into like north face, or some band merch for the man bands he’s into. austin i think always has like classic gifts for ur gf to fall back on like jewelry and flowers and stuff but then there’s also little kitchen gadgets or things like Nice Knives that she’s impressed with. i think for big stuff they’d also be the type to do like an experience in place of a gift like a little weekend getaway together somewhere fun or a concert or something lame even like couple’s wine tasting thing.
who kissed who first?: camryn she was simply much less in her head about such a thing and just went for it.
who made the first move?: austin. and i think that was very brave of him.
who remembers things?: camryn. it’s not that austin’s forgetful ( even if maybe he is a little ) but she just picks up on more to then remember.
who cusses more?: austin probably.
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Ladybug Week: Day 2 - Bedtime Stories
Modern AU, 1.4k words
Ruby blindly groped the surface of her bed for the box of tissues she was currently mowing through. Her nose seemed to be a never ending stream of snot and suffering as she cracked open her eyes to stare hopelessly at the ceiling fan above.
No doubt about it. She was sick.
"Hhnnhng," she groaned as she blew her nose for what must have been the thousandth time that evening. It was just her luck that she would come down with something the same day Yang had left for a road trip with her fiancé, Weiss.
She couldn't call her. Knowing Yang she would turn the car around the moment she got the message and go back to take care of her. Even if she did decide to stay on the road, Ruby knew she would remain an anxious mess for the remainder of the trip knowing her sister was home alone with nobody to take care of her. She was going to have to face a long evening with nothing but a growing pile of used tissues and the gentle whirr of the ceiling fan to keep her company.
Unless...
Only her hand moved as Ruby again groped around the bed; this time for her cellphone. She squinted in protest at the bright light emitting from the screen as she began thumbing through her contacts in the otherwise dark room.
"Hey, Blake? I don't mean to bug you, but I think I got the flu, and Yang already left with Weiss. Do you think you can, oh I don't know, make sure I don't die. Or something."
~~
About an hour later soft knock on the door stirred Ruby out of her light slumber. She knew Blake was coming and yet the hour of mental preparation did nothing to ease her into leaving the warm confines of her bed.
”Coming,” she managed to garble out as she began hobbling to the entryway of the apartment. Sure enough Blake was waiting on the other side of the door, a rather large paper bag hanging from her arm.
”I’m sorry I took so long. I made a couple stops on the way here.”
”Oh don’t worry about it,” Ruby drawled out as she sniffed back another onslaught of mucus from pouring out of her nose. “I think I’m just gonna go back to b-bed.”
“Do you need any help? You sound awful.” Blake moved to the kitchen where she began removing a container of fresh chicken soup from her bag.
“Oh, that came out a little harsher than I intended,” she lightly scolded herself.
”No no no you’re fine. I’m just glad you’re here, Blake. Cause if you weren’t then Yang might have come back to a corpse in the bed surrounded by a wall of tissues."
The corners of Blake’s mouth turned up slightly in a small smile.
"That won’t happen as long as I’m around. Remember, I’m the same person who had to take care of Yang during one of her infamous hangovers."
Now it was Ruby’s turn to smile. “Yeah well I can’t really blame her for last time, with Weiss accepting her proposal and all."
Blake laughed at the memory of a loopy Yang gushing to her about how Weiss was practically crying when she pulled the ring out of her pocket.
“Agreed. I’m really happy for them.”
With that, Blake began to walk towards the bedroom, a steaming hot bowl of soup balanced between her hands.
“You should try and eat something. I hope this diner’s soup is good.”
Soon after the two girls made their way to the bedroom. As Ruby enjoyed her soup, Blake sat on the foot of the bed with a novel on her lap.
Once she had her fill, Ruby placed the bowl on her nightstand.
”Hey Blake, can you do me a teensy, tiny favor?”
“Of course.”
”Would it be stupid if I asked you to read me a bedtime story?” There was a hint of embarrassment in her voice.
Blake felt the tips of her ears warm at the request. While she adored reading in her own free time, she had never really read aloud to someone before. Still, the sight of a wide-eyed, runny-nosed Ruby was one that could not be resisted.
“Um, sure. I think I have some nice short stories saved on my phone.”
She quickly pulled her phone from her pocket as she began navigating her list of saved stories.
“What are you in the mood for? Action? Romance?”
“Something happy. I’m doing enough of the sad depressing stuff already.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed affectionately at Ruby’s joke. Even when she was sick she still managed to say the cutest things.
“How does ‘The Girl and the Beast’ sound?”
Ruby’s face visibly brightened at the mention of the title.
"It sound’s great! Please tell it to me!”
Blake grinned at Ruby’s elated reaction. God, this girl was so adorable. After dramatically clearing her throat, she began her narration
“Long ago there lived a girl named Mirana…”
As Blake told the tale of a young Mirana, a human princess who ran away in order to escape her royal duties and live alongside her white tiger, Bestia, she found herself becoming quite immersed in her narration duties. She donned on different voices for the characters and even acted out certain scenes she felt were “necessary.” Ruby couldn’t believe how much Blake was enjoying herself, and her heart fluttered in her chest at the notion that she was responsible for this joyful experience.
Further in the story, Mirana was soon cornered by the royal guards. Their mission was to return the defiant princess back to her family to assume her duties as heir. With her faithful pet at her side, Mirana and Bestia fought valiantly in an attempt to flee from their pursuers.
“Bestia reared on her hindlegs,” Blake described, “desperate to protect her princess from the selfish men who dare threaten her. But as she lunged towards Lord Segan…”
Blake’s voice halted in her throat as she was met with a startling realization. She remembered reading this story before, and the ending was the very opposite of happy. She recalled how Bestia soon dies from the arrow of a guard hiding among the tree tops, forcing Mirana to surrender to the royal guard and be dragged back to her palace. This time without her dear pet.
“Blake, you ok?” Ruby’s weak voice interrupted her inner turmoil. “I wanna know what happens."
“Y-yes. Sorry, I just lost my place is all.”
Blake straightened her posture. There was no way she was going to disappoint Ruby with this tragic story. There was only one thing she thought she could do.
Well, lets hope my improv skills are as good as my narrating skills.
“Bestia tackled him, growling mere inches from the Lord’s petrified face…”
To Blake’s surprise (and relief) she found her own version of the story coming to her quite easily. Rather than being captured, Mirana managed to mount Bestia and fight her way out of the ambush. Soon the duo made their way deeper into the forest and were met with a family of manticores. Moved by Bestia and Mirana’s acts of selfless bravery to protect the other, the manticores blessed Bestia with her own pair of wings so that they may have an easier time fleeing from unwanted intruders.
“…With her new pair of wings, Bestia and Mirana flew off together, free to travel the world where none may spy on them. And they both lived long, happy lives. The end."
Blake glanced up from her phone to see Ruby’s reaction, only to be met with soft snores and a sleeping form, complete with a trail of drool connecting Ruby’s mouth to her red pillowcase.
Blake covered her mouth as she tried to stifle a laugh. She couldn’t have imagined a more “Ruby” way of falling asleep no matter how hard she tried. She figured however, this was her queue to move out to the sofa out in the living room.
As Blake gathered her things, her eyes once again fell on Ruby’s sleeping form. A strange, fuzzy feeling welled up inside her as she continued to gaze at the adorable (albeit snotty) girl in front of her.
Before she gave herself the chance to think twice about it, Blake made her way over to Ruby’s side, brushing aside her mess of red hair in order to place a gentle kiss against her temple.
“Sweet dreams, Ruby."
A/N: Sorry this is so late askldfnkjsabf I really wanted to get this out before the day ended uwu
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Day 7: Free Day!
Did I ever mention about a fic draft I had since October? Because about that... 8)
Kisses
Summary: The first was an accident, the second an experiment, the third a challenge, and he kept track of all of them.
Words: 2345
Notes:
Special thanks to @nemirutami for editing this fic! <3
I wanted to post it on ao3 too, but I don’t have an account and my email is on queue to get an invitation, so I’ll be late there. orz
I hope you like it!
Their first kiss was an accident.
Tuesday was supposed to be just another afternoon exploring Mementos. It had become routine already, no big threats, a lot of bumps, a few treasure chests, some requests to fulfill, shadows blocking their way… just another day.
Until a badly executed curve abruptly threw everyone to one side of the car. And the two guys in the backseat just happened to be facing each other in that one instant.
It had almost gone by unnoticed, since the girls were too busy complaining about the driver and Mona to mind them. But for some cursed reason, their minds decided to register the very moment their lips clashed.
It was too fast to process any taste, too light because their masks were in the way - and it hurt -, but the mortified expression from the punk was printed in the painter’s memory, and that touch alone would disturb the both of them for the following nights to come.
*
Their second kiss was an experiment.
What happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii. Or so they say.
It was with that thought that the blond invited his eccentric friend for a walk around the city. No one they knew was around. Everybody seemed too excited to make the last day on beach count, since it was unlikely for another chance like this one to appear.
Perhaps the fact that the boys were so different and distant, yet managed to become teammates and friends, was what allowed them to trust each other enough to conceal their doubts and curiosity.
That wouldn’t be their first time together.
The kiss was chaste, but now, deliberated. Their moist lips pressed lightly against the other, chilly on their flushed skin and warm breaths. Gawky fingers mindlessly brushed against tender palms, looking for some small ounce of support. It only took a second, but the turmoil they had been feeling inside was dissolved, like butterflies fluttering away.
They promised to not talk about it again and forget what happened. But the smile the vulgar boy had on his lips proved impossible to ignore.
That promise was doomed to be broken.
*
Their third kiss was a challenge.
It was like a silent, secretive game the two teens were playing, and the reward was the jolts of satisfaction whenever they exchanged affection without anyone else noticing. Every glance was a calling for the other, each time the troublemaker bit his lower lip, he meant “wait a minute, I’m coming.”, and in reply, the taller brushed his dark hair behind the ear, “I am waiting.”.
They stood next to each other more frequently, and the closer they got, the more they teased. A hand hovered on the other, a leg leaned against another under the table, shoulders nudged for attention, wishing for some contact, and small murmurs were exchanged in whispers.
It happened in Mementos again - a moment of distraction when the group found a locked treasure chest - when Skull tugged Fox’s sleeve and took a chance. It was as fast as they expected it to be; more like a face clumsily pushing against another as quickly as possible, and it wasn’t enough to cease their desires.
But it was something Ryuji was proud of stealing.
*
Their fourth kiss was an answer.
The two friends could keep pretending they didn’t know the meaning behind their caressing exchanges, feeding their needs with small hidden touches and excuses to stay close, fooling themselves that what they did was nothing more than curiosity and self-satisfaction. It was a fun game for them, and a somewhat comfortable one.
But they would never learn how it felt to have more than that.
Instead, Yusuke found himself holding Ryuji’s hand, leaning against the diner’s narrow corridor wall as they watched a sudden storm strike down right when they were about to leave.
They still agreed on keeping their exchanges a secret from others to avoid unnecessary attention, but when a cold wind blew into the corridor, the idea of being discreet escaped their minds. The athlete instinctively jumped in front of him, using his free arm to block the rain. Drops of water ran down Ryuji’s trembling chin as he laughed and looked up at his boyfriend to close the distance, humming.
“Not the ideal first date, huh?”
*
Their seventh kiss was a step forward.
They hadn’t been alone like that since the diner, and the safety of Ryuji’s home gave them the freedom to experiment to their heart's content. It was just a matter of time until little teases and caresses became more intimate.
They took it slow, letting lips meet again, relaxing as their touches became more familiar, and tasting the flavor of the beverages they both had just minutes ago. Warm tea coated lips brushed softly against cool coke coated ones, pecking them a few times while Yusuke’s slender fingers stroked the blond’s face, and then slipped behind his head to pull him closer and kiss him even deeper.
Soon, lips weren’t enough, and they pulled each other into embraces and new stirring touches. Naughty hands slid down their bodies, exploring the other’s skin and tracing muscles, provoking gasps and more kisses. Noses and teeth got in the way, and the teens laughed when it happened. But they kept going, and they got better.
Their kiss couldn’t go on forever though. At some point, both had to pull back to catch their breath. It was only then that Ryuji realized the current situation: He was lying on the couch, with Yusuke straddling on his lap. The mangas they were reading before were scattered on the floor, the sketchbook that was carefully placed on the couch’s arm got kicked away…
and he heard his mother arriving home.
*
“Ah! Sorry! I didn’t mean to stare.” Haru squeaked when she caught their twelfth kiss.
Maybe they really should stop trying their luck, now that the group got bigger.
Just maybe.
At least she kept it secret from the rest.
As if the others had never noticed it.
*
Their twenty-sixth kiss was a lull.
Yusuke sensed distress in his partner. He was even louder than usual. He tapped his foot and shrugged more often, he leaned against his chair so much he almost fell down twice, he read the same manga page three times over before proceeding, he made up excuses to just touch his boyfriend even more even if his hands were sweating cold.
He kissed Ryuji to shut him up, caressing his cheek to calm him down, and held his hand to give him some reassurance. It took a while to feel the torment inside the other slowly subside, his tense lips finally relaxing and his face tilting against Yusuke’s soft palm. When their lips parted, he gently leaned on the shorter’s forehead to confess one thing.
“I’m scared as well.”
*
Their thirty-seventh kiss was eager.
Tomorrow was the big day. Their target had been called out publicly, thus there was no turning back - not that they’d ever do it. However, as much as they prepared for it, no confidence could calm down their anxiety.
They could feel it in every touch, how rough hands quivered, grabbing the other fiercely to steady them, how Yusuke wrapped tight his arms and legs around the toned body, seeking safety, how Ryuji swore more often and louder under his breath, and how he instantly relaxed after humming his lover’s name.
The smell of the rainy breeze mixed with their steamy puffs, and the drops hitting the window didn’t match the sound of hearts drumming in their chests. Desirous lips smacked ferociously, getting side tracked to trail smooches across the jaw and neck to recover some air.
Their presence gave them some peace of mind, but restlessness only became stronger.
At some point, Yusuke broke the kiss again for another breath, and took this moment to gaze at Ryuji, admiring the way the dim light from the city illuminated his partner - he wanted to memorize everything, his short messy hair, the glossy brown eyes, the red spots on his neck down to collarbone, his flushed smile, and how his lips moved to form the phrase the artist heard for the first time.
“I love you, Yusuke.”
*
Their thirty-ninth kiss tasted like salt and fear.
Yusuke could feel his teammates around, shouting worried and powerless. One voice called out Ryuji’s stupidity and recklessness. A quiet mumble regretted the decision of going this far, another yelled in frustration, blaming and cursing their target, while someone else called an emergency. He also could feel a hand stroking his back, an attempt to soothe his mind, in vain.
The painter couldn’t focus on anything except his lover’s unconscious body.
Faltering arms enveloped and carefully pulled Ryuji closer, nesting the blond head on his chest, and hoping for this to be just some cognition or a bad taste prank. He pecked his forehead, cheeks, lips, ear, whispered comfort, love words, asking to wake up and not abandon him, that they all needed him, anything to get some reaction.
But there was nothing.
*
On the following days, their kisses tasted like paper and memories.
*
The last kiss was followed by a goodbye.
It was a simple, fast, but tender touch, enough to recall all the sensations that it brought back. The taste of his skin, the breath against his cheek, the smacking sound of their lips parting, the soft squeeze in his hand, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach…
Yusuke missed it. He missed it so much, he missed him too much. The thought of losing someone again was too dreadful, and no one could guess the kind of damage his mind had suffered, or if it left any brain damage.
But Ryuji was here, looking up with the most loving gaze and his always cheerful smile. A vision the painter wished to witness forever.
“See you tomorrow, babe.”
And for now, that was all that mattered.
*
*
*
“Is this for me…?” Ryuji held his present with a care, something that was rare coming from him.
“Yes. I want you to have it.” Yusuke explained, gently. “It’s not much. Most of them are quick sketches, but I drew them thinking of you.”
“What do you mean ‘not much’!? You filled the whole notebook!!”
“Not entirely. I ripped out the pages I was unsatisfied with.”
“Oh, so there was MORE!?”
The punk flushed as he leafed through the sketchbook, noticing that all of them were indeed scribbled. He could see himself clearly in some pages, smiling, posing or fighting, and recognize places they’d visited together before. Leblanc, the Diner, Okiburo, his house, even Mementos appeared a couple of times. A few of them depicted only hands touching in different ways, others depicted… things, like a curious sketch of a cup of tea and a glass of coke.
As much as he loved Yusuke, understanding his artistic views was a challenge. Still, even in the most confusing sketches, he could sense some familiarity, as if they were tickling his memories and making him giggle. Perhaps it was just the fact the artist mentioned before that those sketches were all done thinking of him.
Another page made him stop and burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha!!! What!? Damn! Is this Haru!? Why is she here!? Did she see it!?”
“Yes, she did.” The companion chuckled, amused by his reaction. “I drew this on the day she caught us. You could say it’s a small token of appreciation for not calling us out.”
“Hahaha! Yeah, true. That’s a good one, thou-” a sudden realization crossed his mind. “Wait a minute. These sketches… did you draw all of these since we started dating…?”
“I believe even before that.” Yusuke rubbed his shoulder, averting his eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you since our first incident in Mementos. It was bothersome.” He didn’t hear his boyfriend wowing, offended. “So I began to draw it to relieve my mind, and I found myself enjoying picturing you. You have an energy and passion that I wanted to replicate in my art, and a distinct beauty that is… hard to see at first glance. But once I opened my eyes and accepted it, I was captivated. In no time, I had fallen for you.”
The bedridden lost his words, cheeks flushing even redder than before, and soon he was laughing again. They had been dating for just a few months, but the way the painter’s thoughts were spoken was so charming and honest that it always struck him by surprise.
Ryuji flipped back to the first page again, this time, imagining a flustered Yusuke sketching it, probably fighting against his own heart rather than the shadows, and creating that chaotic first piece. Yes, that was definitely Mementos. Is that a skull silhouette?
“T-That’s effin’ cheesy, man!”
“You don’t like it…?”
“I loved it!! Hahahahahahaha!!”
In a certain way, the troublemaker related with those feelings. He remembered how disturbing those nights after the Mementos incident were, when his dreams only recalled that kiss and reimagined how it could be if they kept going. The more he tried to avoid thinking about it, the worse his dreams became. Little did his past self know how far they would go, and how happy they were because of it.
His laugh slowly fades, and brown eyes rest on his lover again, contemplating the present. His body didn’t have a notion of how long he slept, but it felt like an eternity.
“You know… Thanks…” the blond offered his hand to Yusuke, who gently took it so he could place a kiss on his knuckles. “Anyway, I’m guessin’ you got a fresh new sketchbook, now that you’re givin’ me this?”
“You guessed right. I just bought it before coming here.”
Ryuji brushed Yusuke's hair back behind his ear, hands caressing his face on their way down his cheek. A cheeky grin was drawn on his pale, pink lips.
“So… Do you wanna start fillin’ it in now?”
#persona 5#ryuji sakamoto#yusuke kitagawa#ryukita#ryukitaweek2019#p5#persona#fanart#fanfic#warning: super cheesy bullshit fhodsifhos#also it has been months and i still piss myself on 'is a step forward' fjgsids#ok now that im on tags and only the chosen ones will actually read them#I. AM. RLY. NOT. USED. ON. WRITING. SO I RLY RLY RLY HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT BC I HAVE ZERO CONFIDENCE FDOGJDO#i prefer making comics than fics bc im terrible doing descriptions#so i prefer drawing them than all the effort of writing lmao#the reason this one became a fic is exactly bc i had this idea that i couldn't just translate into a comic#it's not one well constructed scene but a bunch of not detailed ones in a timeline that crossed my mind
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💞💕💞💝 i was waiting for the test to begin and i was texting my friend because i was hella nervous and if i'm not talking to someone before tests i usually get overly stressed and then she sent me that picture of the newt quote ya know worrying means you suffer twice and it's my fave quote like ever and she said she saw it on your blog so thank you for being there for me in my time of need even if it was indirect afwgej 💕
you’re meaning to tell ne my all time favorite quote by the most charming man in all of the harry potter series helped you get through your test? you know, it may have been indirectly, but i’m glad my queue dumped that out today. you deserve it, and i’m glad you saw it and were thinking of me 😊💕
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The Usual
A/N: SO, I usually don’t post stuff like this, but the wonderful @startrekkingaroundasgard had a 2K writing challenge about tropes and no one had taken the coffee shop AU yet, which I thought was a shame and a disaster, so here we go. Hope you enjoy :D
Tony had always thought he would despise working in the service industry. Given the amount everyone around him complained about it, he had expected he would be trying to commit harakiri with a milk frother within the week, since whatever Hades had in store for him would be less bad than dealing with one more person who pronounced cappuccino wrong.
And yet, now that he's here, he's enjoying himself. The coffee shop, called Impresso Espresso (insert forced laughter here), is across from a college campus, so most of his customers are caffeine-addicted students, hands shaking and eyes wide open from either too much Redbull or too much cocaine (it's a toss up at this age, really) and their professors, with under-eye bags so large they can put all the assignments they still have to mark in them, leaving their hands free for a carton cup with seven shots of espresso. Tony enjoys winking at all of them and trying to make them laugh, every smile a reward better than the free coffee that comes with the job.
During the classic afternoon lull, when the students are in bed and the professors in class, Tony puts the mechanics degree that put him deep in debt but didn't provide him with a job due to his well-meaning but obnoxious demeanour to good use by upgrading the ancient coffee machines, that were apparently purchased in the late seventies, max- or maybe modern technology just isn't as great as people often make it out to be.
Tony's manager, Matt, captain of the American football team who likes his coffee like he likes his math problems, simple, watches this thirty-something man become increasingly comfortable in a coffee shop populated mostly by those ten years younger or older than him with a mix between amazement and amusement. Besides, the coffee machines, that previously took ten minutes of gentle conversation with an increasingly impatient customer to create something as simple as a cup of tea, can now whip up a doppio in a record-holding 17.8 seconds, according to Tony. To Matt, it just feels like approximately 20 seconds, but, apparently, the exact time is of great importance to Tony, who, one night during midterms season when the coffee shop is open 24/7 to accommodate all the students pulling all-nighters, calls Matt at 3 am to announce he has shortened this time to 17.7 seconds. Apart from that hiccup, though, Tony is a good employee and Matt is satisfied.
On a dreary Thursday in February, one of the other baristas asks Matt: "Have you seen the professor around, lately? I feel like it's been awhile since we've had a queue of 20+ people- do you think he's ill?"
Matt smiles. "Don't worry about him, he's at a conference. He told me about it last time he was here, right before he told me off about not stirring his coffee correctly, or putting too much syrup in it. I'm not sure what it was that time, but it was clear he wasn't happy."
The barista laughs. "Is he ever?"
Tony, who is leaning on the counter, watching the students run by, text books over their head, more concerned with protecting their haircut than the $200 the book cost them, hears the comment. "Who are you talking about?" he asks, intrigued.
"Just this crazy customer who comes here a lot," Matt says. "He teaches something very scientific and complicated, and his order is absolutely ridiculous. You should be glad you're first month here has coincided with a four-week conference in Silicon Valley he had to go to. He's a nightmare."
Tony laughs. "Oh come one, he can't be that bad."
Matt rolls his eyes at the other barista, pulling off her apron now that her shift has ended. She waves at the two men behind the bar before exiting the coffee shop, the door being held open for her by a customer just about the enter the shop.
The customer enters the cafe, his eyes gliding over the neon Impresso Espresso sign behind the counter like he is disappointed still no one has realised what a horrible idea it was to put it there. Behind Tony, Matt sighs. "That'll teach me to speak of the devil. That's him, the professor. You take him, you've never had to suffer through his demands."
Tony steps up to the register just as the man reaches the counter. He is wearing thick, black glasses that almost completely hide his grey eyes. The top button of his checkered shirt is undone, but it doesn't look on purpose, more like he just forgot there was another button before he finished dressing himself. His large, black cardigan is wrapped around his body like a blanket. He is younger than Tony expected, for a professor being invited to month-long conferences. He also doesn't look like someone who has an order complicated enough to make his colleagues this bitter (pun intended).
When the man opens his mouth to place his order, Tony expects the other employees to have pulled a prank on him, expects the man to just order a black coffee, and maybe, maybe, make a joke about the colour of his soul. Instead, he hits Tony with this beauty of a coffee order: "I would like a latte, but instead of only milk, I would like half milk half hot water. The milk should be equal parts almond and coconut, with an extra dash of soy. Stir that exactly two and a half times clockwise. Then, add in a full glass of skimmed milk, that has been frothed for exactly 12.5 seconds, shake it up with ice, pour half of the drink out, and heat the other half up again, which needs to be stirred twelve times anti-clockwise at a temperature of 63 Celsius or 145.4 Fahrenheit. Take it off the heat at 98.7 Celsius or 209.67 Fahrenheit. I would like three and a quarter pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup, seven packets of sugar, two pumps of caramel syrup, make sure to add that in after the sugar, otherwise you ruin the taste, and .4 pump of hazelnut. Then, I would like some cocoa powder, pour the coffee in with ice and shake it up again. I would also like whipped cream on top, but then please shave it off again, so there's only a little bit of whipped cream left. Pay with card, please."
Tony's mouth falls open. "You're kidding!" he exclaims. Behind him, he hears Matt snicker. The man begins to explain the importance of each individual step to the flavour of the beverage, but Tony interrupts him: "That's my order!"
A smile forms on the man's face, grey eyes sparkling. "Finally, someone with good taste around here," he says, giving Matt, whose jaw has slammed through the floor of the coffee shop and is currently making its way to the centre of the earth, a side eye. "You'll know the crucial timing of the stirring, then."
Tony nods. "Of course, of course," he says, with a stern face, fully aware of how important these things are. One of the reasons he had decided to start working in a coffee shop was that he would finally be able to make this order perfectly for himself. He can't believe another person with a brain as small as a human's has been smart enough to realise this order is the only way coffee is anything near drinkable. "Name?"
"Bruce," the man answers, and Tony hits the buttons on the register to allow the man to pay for his drink, even though he believes that thinking like that should be rewarded with a free coffee, before writing Bruce on the cup in his squiggly handwriting.
A solid twenty minutes and 27 grumbling people in line behind Bruce later, Tony presents the coffee with a flourish Shakespearean actors would be jealous of, putting a lid on the take-away cup before sliding it across the counter towards Bruce. "Oh, I don't need a lid," Bruce says, and pulls on the lid. However, in his enthusiasm, Tony has pressed down a bit harder than was fully necessary, and, no matter how much Bruce pulls, the lid is not giving way.
Tony snickers. "Well, someone's got muscles that would give the Hulk a run for his money."
Bruce laughs, too, and pushes the cup back towards Tony. "Can you do it?" Tony easily takes of the lid and slides the now lidless cup to Bruce. With a smile and a nod of his head, Bruce exits the coffee shop.
Over the next week, Bruce comes back twice a day, once in the early morning, and once for a pick-me-up in the middle of the afternoon. Tony learns his schedule quickly enough, and ensures he arrives a bit too early and leaves a bit too late for his shifts, so he can be there to make Bruce's coffee. He doesn't ask for the man's name anymore, instead scribbling Hulk, No Lid on his cup, something that amuses Bruce, which is only indicated by the sparkle in his eyes when he reads it. Most of Bruce's emotions seems to be conveyed through his eyes, and Tony starts making subtle alterations to his order depending on the look in them- an extra shot of coffee if they're especially tired, some more syrup when he's looking down, and some extra milk when Bruce's eyes are dull, in replacement for Tony's wish to put his hand on his stubbled cheek and his lips against his forehead to soften the pain he sees hiding behind the grey clouds in Bruce's irises. He knows Bruce notices, when his eyes regain some of the sparkle Tony had seen that first time they had met after he takes his first sip, thanking Tony with a simple nod of the head and a half-smile, which Tony cherishes more than the few coins Bruce drops in the tip jar whenever he visits the shop.
They talk every time, sharing jabs and ideas, words and looks, until Matt has had enough of it. One particularly rainy afternoon in March, he punches Tony's arm in a way that's soft for a quarterback such as Matt, but hard for a skinny 5'9 guy like Tony, and he has to take a side step to prevent himself from falling against one of the coffee machines.
"When are you finally gonna do something about that, man?" Matt asks. Tony raises an eyebrow, innocence painted on his face. It's as much of a forgery as most of Da Vinci's paintings, though, and Matt knows it. "You kids have been flirting under my nose for over a month now," he continues, ignoring the fact that both of the men he's talking about are at least ten years older than he is. "You need to make a move, dude. Now!"
Tony gestures at the window, where Bruce can be seen crossing the street to the college campus, coffee in his hand. "He's gone, Matt," he says. "What do you want me to do? Go after him?"
Matt nods enthusiastically. "That's exactly what you should do! Run after him, ask him out! Don't be such a wimp!" He pulls Tony's apron over his head and pushes him towards the door.
Tony struggles against Matt's indisputably superior physical strength. "I never took you to be such a romantic," he says. "Might harm that cool image you've got going on."
Matt snickers. "You're not talking your way out of this one, Tony," he says, opening the door with one hand and pushing Tony through it with the other. "Now, go!"
With not much other choice, Tony runs across the road, waving at the sleek black car that almost hit him, driven by an extremely annoyed-looking red haired woman who seems to have half a mind to simply step on the gas and run him over. He makes it across the street in one piece though, and yells: "Bruce!"
The other man is so shocked by someone yelling his name that he promptly drops his coffee cup. He spins around, hands risen next to his head as if showing he has no weapons. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead, and his navy blazer darkens where the rain hits him, since he isn't wearing a coat. Neither is Tony himself, he realizes, now that the rain is making his white T-shirt quickly turn see-through. "It's just me," Tony says.
"Oh, yes. Did I forget something?" Bruce pets the pockets of his blazer.
Tony shakes his head. "No, I eh… I…" He has always been a man of words, but now, faced with a nervous, drenched professor whose coffee is spilling all over the pavement between their feet, he doesn't know what to say. "Can I buy you a new coffee?" he asks, hating the clenched way his voice comes out of his mouth. "Maybe we could, you know, talk. Somewhere else than in there." He gestures at Impresso Espresso, where Matt is grinning broadly behind the windows. "Somewhere he can't see us."
Bruce smiles, with both his eyes and his mouth, and Tony has to resist the urge to run back and high-five Matt. "That would be nice. There's a decent place just up the road." He gestures in a vague direction, and Tony isn't sure which road he's indicating, but he doesn't care. He would follow this man to a coffee shop three cities over, if he really had to.
When they walk into the shop, water forms small pools by their feet, and a single, bored barista is leaning over the counter. The neon sign behind her reads Cool Beans Coffee Bar. Bruce sighs. "Do all coffee shops have those?"
Tony laughs. "Federal law requires it. That's top secret, though, don't tell anyone."
Bruce mimes locking his lips and throwing the key away, and, grinning, the two men step up to the counter. Tony eyes the other man. "The usual?"
Bruce nods. "The usual."
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Self Care Isn’t Selfish - Sam Winchester x Reader
Summary: Sam refuses to take care of himself, so you finally decide to intervene.
Pairing: (established) Sam Winchester x Reader
Word count: ~2.2k
Warnings: classic winchester refusal of self care and rest, fluff fluff and more fluff
A/N: basically I like to mess around on ambient mixer and I ended up making an atmosphere for getting some rest with sammy. this is the quick lil result of me listening to that while writing! For best results with this oneshot, pls CLICK HERE to listen to the atmosphere while you read! Headphones recommended :) ALSO i should say! thank you so much for 100 followers!! thank u thank u thank u!
All it took was one more yawn from Sam for you to make up your mind. Just one.
For days now you had watched the younger Winchester continue to push himself past his limits. The hunts had been nonstop for weeks now as Sam repeatedly threw himself into his work with no mind for his own well being. Only within the past two weeks had you noticed the biggest changes, specifically in his sleeping and dietary habits. Your shared bed with the man had become too large as of late, too cold in his absence night after night. Each time you would wake up and find the other side of the bed empty, you would pad out the door and down to the library, where you would always find Sam with his face buried in another old lore book. Your pleas for him to come back to bed with you were always brushed off as if they were nothing, him constantly insisting that he was okay and he was getting enough rest.
“I’m fine,” he would insist, the slur of his words a clear indication of his drowsy state. “I’m a hunter, I’ve worked on less sleep than this before.”
He was lying. You knew it, Dean knew it, Castiel knew it, and surely Sam himself knew it. What was causing him to act this way you couldn’t say for sure, but whatever it was, you wanted to stop it in its tracks. His newfound habits were taking quite the toll on him both physically and mentally. Yourself and the Winchester brothers weren’t exactly known for having the most well rested faces in the world, but the dark circles taking residence under Sam’s eyes were worrying even to you. His body slumped far more than it usually did, and his boot clad feet could be heard dragging against the library floor all the way from the kitchen. His usually well kept hair lost its style days ago, instead now poking out every which way from atop his drooping head.
Sam’s finger trailed over the faded Latin text lazily. His eyes were hazy and unfocused, squinting and squeezing shut every few seconds as if to clear the film of exhaustion away. One hand rested against his forehead, arm crooked at the elbow and leaning on the table to hold his head up. You watched in frustration as his eyes drifted closed every few minutes before snapping back open with a start. You turned your attention to the older of the brothers to find that he, too, had a scowl forming on his lips at the sight. This was how you knew that it was surely getting bad; if Dean Winchester, the master of self care avoidance, was judging your self care habits, then you had a problem. Sam was to that point.
Your boyfriend’s mouth opened wide in yet another yawn, and that was the final straw that had you standing up abruptly. The distinct screech of chair legs across the bunker floor caused Sam’s head to snap upwards to look at you in confusion. You made your way over to the plaid flannel clad man in a few quick strides, stopping next to him to grab the book from his hands.
“Hey!” He cried out, his hands reaching for the tome but the rest of his body making no move to pursue it further. “I need that, I was researching!”
You gave him a simple shake of your head as you snatched his notes from the table top as well, stuffing them into the book to mark his page before closing it and placing it on the table behind you, just out of his reach. You crossed your arms across your chest and leaned against the dark wooden surface. “No way I’m giving you that book back, Sam.”
“Well, why not? We have work to do. I can’t exactly work without that book,” he argued, arms crossing over his chest as well to mirror your stance. Your eyes rolled up at the ceiling in frustration.
“Yeah, about that. No, you’re not gonna work on this. We,” you paused to motion your hand between yourself and Dean, “are going to finish this up. Cas too. You, however, are going to get some rest. I’m sick and tired of watching you push yourself like this when you’re clearly suffering. We can handle this, I promise. Just focus on taking care of yourself.”
Your insistent tone did little to coerce the stubborn man into taking a well deserved break. His eyes flickered back and forth between you and his brother. Dean returned his gaze with a look that absolutely screamed for Sam to agree to the arrangement and get some sleep, but this, too, didn’t get through to him.
Sam shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t leave you three to work on this all alone. You guys are tired too. I’ve been doing this my whole life, I can handle it,” he insisted. He reached behind you to grab his book back, only for you to press your hand down over the cover and slide the volume across the table to Dean, who anticipated this action and caught it without glancing away from his notes. You turned back to Sam with a triumphant smile. The expression he met you with was far from impressed.
“Seriously?” He deadpanned. You quirked a brow.
“Seriously.”
Silence settled over the library for a moment as the pair of you continued to stare each other down. No one dared to break the moment until the familiar flutter of wings interrupted your stare off. “Dean, I was wondering if you- oh,” Castiel’s deep timbre paused momentarily as his eyes settled on you and Sam, or, more particularly, Sam’s hunched over form. The seraph furrowed his brows at the sight. “Why is Sam still here?” His question was abrupt and to the point, as things usually were when coming from the angel’s mouth, but it was valid nonetheless.
Sam threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Seriously?” He clamored, brows knit together by an invisible thread of frustration. “Why does everyone keep insisting I shouldn’t be working? I am perfectly fine!” His exclamation was punctuated quite indicatively by the all encompassing yawn his mouth formed directly after he finished speaking. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes from the reflex, and once he cleared his vision, he was met with three sets of unimpressed eyes. A scowl formed on his face, and he found himself shaking his head dismissively once again. “Whatever. That was nothing. You just got it in my head, that’s all!”
You scoffed and brought a hand down on his shoulder to gain his attention. “Babe, come on. You’re running on fumes, and you have been for a while now. We can all see that you need a break, and there’s never been a better time than now. This research isn’t time sensitive, and either way, it’s really not that much. I know that if the roles were reversed, and I was in your situation, that you wouldn’t let up until I finally gave in and took care of myself. Let me do that for you, okay?” Your hand trailed down his arm so you could give his bicep a reassuring squeeze.
The hunter cast his eyes downwards momentarily, clearly lost in thought. Castiel’s shuffling around the room paused once he noticed the change in the atmosphere, much to your relief. Sam’s lips parted and shut repeatedly before he finally worked up the courage to speak. “Could you,” he began, pausing to cough when he realized how strained and broken his voice sounded. “Could you lay with me?” Concerned hazel eyes flickered up to peer at you through tousled strands of brown hair. His fear of impending rejection shone clear as day on his face like a bright neon sign, calling attention to the tug of his brows and the slight pout of his bottom lip like a blaring siren.
You felt your features visibly soften at the sight of the man you loved so much in such a vulnerable state. With a small, comforting smile, you nodded your head in agreement before tugging carefully at the sleeve of his flannel shirt in an effort to coax him out of his chair. Slowly but surely, he raised to his feet and allowed you to lead him over to the old leather couch in the corner of the library. You knew he wouldn’t let you take him all the way to his room in fear of missing any big breakthroughs in the day’s research, so for the time being, the surprisingly comfortable cushions the Men of Letters left behind would have to do.
You urged him to settle down however he pleased, which in the end seemed to be with his head propped against the arm of the couch and his body lounging across its length. One of his feet sat flat on the floor while the other splayed out over the other chair arm, dangling precariously in the air. Once he got everything to his liking, he turned his exhaustion laden eyes to you to peer at you through heavy lids. He reached his arms out and made grabby hands in your direction like a child would to his favorite stuffed animal, causing you to chuckle. The sound put a lopsided grin on the hunter’s face.
“C’mere,” he insisted, keeping his arms outstretched towards you.
You shook your head with a smile. “I don’t think we’re both gonna fit on that couch, big guy.”
“Trust me,” he coaxed. “I got it, just c’mere.”
You took a tentative step towards him and placed yourself within arm’s reach of the man. In an instant, he pulled you towards him at the waist and maneuvered your body so that you were laying on top of him. Your head rested comfortably on his chest just over his heart. One of his arms wrapped around your waist while his other hand buried itself in the hair at the back of your head, serving to hold your head in place as well as trace lazy circles on your scalp. Your legs tangled together and the smell of Sam’s favorite body wash and shampoo combination curled around you like a warm blanket.
His chest rose and fell with each steady breath he took, the motions serving to lull you into a restful state alongside the ever comforting beating of his heart beneath your ear. You were vaguely aware of Dean’s continued research endeavors in the background. The clack of keyboard keys and the turning of old book pages registered only as well as the soft flutter of wings that arose every so often as Castiel popped in and out of the library in search of the information he required. In all truth, none of that really mattered to you when you were curled up in Sam’s arms.
Slowly but surely, Sam’s movements began to slow. The circles his finger tips traced over your skin became sloppier and sloppier until they finally ceased altogether. His breathing evened out and his whole form relaxed with well needed rest. Only once you were sure he was asleep did you risk a glance up at him.
His grip on your waist tightened with your movements, only causing you to smile and slow your motions enough that his brain wouldn’t register them. You peeked up at his sleeping face, a lazy grin on your features at the sight. He looked so much… younger like this. His skin was smooth and free of any worry lines from the day to day stressors. His eyelashes shadowed over his cheekbones, leading your eyes down to his relaxed jawline and the small pout tugging at his slightly parted lips. His hair was as wild as ever, but you knew that as soon as he woke up he would run a single hand through it and manage to look utterly flawless, which you always found infuriating. Then he would look at you with a sleepy, lopsided smile and rub at one eye with the heel of his hand, greeting you with his gravelly morning voice, and you would realize you couldn’t stay mad at him for very long. It was an endless cycle, and you were prepared to go through it every single day if he would allow you.
You turned your eyes to Dean, who sat in the same place he had been all day, laptop opened in front of him, face illuminated by the blue tinted glow. Only now, the corners of his lips were tugging upwards in a ghost of a smile. His own emerald gaze flickered upwards to peer at you over the top of his screen, green hued eyes softening as a genuine smile broke out on his face. A small part of you felt relieved that he wasn’t annoyed with the way you had left him to research alone, but the rest of you was simply in awe of the sight of Dean Winchester’s genuine happiness.
“Thank you,” he mouthed to you in earnest.
“Always,” came your reply.
And with that, you rested your head on Sam’s chest once again, and allowed his heartbeat to lull you into a peaceful sleep.
#Sam Winchester#sam winchester x reader#supernatural#supernatural imagines#supernatural imagine#supernatural x reader#worrying means queue suffer twice#dean winchester#castiel#SPN#spn x reader#team free will#tfw#reader insert#fluff#comfort fic#reverse comfort fic#imagine#fanfiction#fanfic#sam winchester/reader#sam winchester x you#sam wincester/you
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❝ hmm. picket doesn’t seem to keen on returning back to me. ❞ his tone teases , highly amused by how taken the usually clingy bowtruckle seemed to be with his oldest friend. as he watches on , he’s suddenly reminded of more simpler times ------ back at hogwarts when he first introduced leta to the tree of bowtruckles. that was the day of the boggart incident , which ended with leta’s strange , yet frightening fear to be unveiled to the whole class. it was also the first day their hands touched for the first time ------
❝ should i be jealous ? i hope you don’t intend to keep him. ❞ newt attempts to keep the moment lighthearted , but the memory of their time in school has his smile seeming less genuine. even after many years , the pain still lingered. would it ever end ?
@letaunloved / starter call !
#letaunloved#💼* ﾟ╯「 caution in the field 」/ ( ic )#💼* ﾟ╯「 v: i've chosen my side 」/ ( crimes of grindelwald )#( i hope this works! )#💼* ﾟ╯「 worrying means queue suffer twice ! 」/ ( queue )
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!!! grey the amount of love and understanding you have for newt is outstanding and honestly your portrayal has made me fall in love with this nerd even more than i already was. you delve deeper into who he is and how he works, and the fact that your hcs are only backed by canon further proves that you're incredible and i love writing with you across my way too many blogs
beep beep ❈ ― @seapromised
this is what kills the grey
hi i’ve gotten really emotional every time i’ve looked at this since you sent it and i just wanna say thank you sm bc god... this is really encouraging ;u; ♡
#seapromised#❇ ― 〈 owl post 〉 asks: ooc.#❇ ― 〈 like gold to a niffler 〉 saved.#'across my way too many blogs'#binch do u think i have room to judge#lmfao gohan i love u sm ♡♡♡#❇ ― 〈 worrying means you suffer twice 〉 queue.
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