Tumgik
#and maybe there's something supernatural to it
restinslices · 2 days
Note
Ngl now I wanna read MK1 LKBS reacting to Twilight in headcanon bullet point format 😭
Pretend I put a joke here
Bi-Han
Bi-Han probably hates a lot of things 
Twilight is quickly added to his list 
You know how you can hate a movie, show, book, whatever but have a favorite character? That doesn't happen with Bi-Han
Fuck Bella, fuck Edward, fuck Jacob, fuck EVERYBODY 
The fact that he managed to finish the first movie is a miracle. He for damn sure ain't watching the rest and/or reading the books. You gon have to stab him 
“I'll divorce you if you don't” “I'll get the paperwork for you”
I don't think he'd like any parts of it. There's not a single redeemable thing in that movie 
The type to get mad at Bella and pause the movie to do a lap so he won't destroy the TV 
His main question is “why are y'all doing all this for a girl you hardly know?”
I legit don't think he'd enjoy any parts of it. MAYBE the soundtrack, and that's a big MAYBE 
So many things would bother him. Why is stalking romantic? Why are you risking your family's life for a girl you hardly know? Why is Edward not considered a pedo? How has he not met someone yet? Why is Jacob stuck on her?
There is nothing redeemable about Twilight to him. I think every minute for him is agony 
I don't think any of them like Twilight but I feel like he hates it the most 
In turmoil
Kuai Liang
He doesn't like it either but he tries to be nice and hide it 
He hides it poorly 
A very pained smile whenever you look over at him 
“You like it?” “Yes… 🙂” “Great! Let's watch New Moon!” “There's more?😧”
Does he watch the others? Possibly 
Will he read the books? No
I don't think he'd be fond of any of the main characters either
He’s not a fan of love triangles and he also just doesn’t like the characters
Favorite character? Maybe Angela 
She gets hardly any screentime so she can't do any wrong 
That soundtrack is nice tho-
I don't think he's in as much agony as Bi-Han, but I don't see him liking Twilight 
I'm not even sure he's even into romantic movies 
Do I think he's against romantic movies? No. Do I think it's his favorite genre? No. It could be like, top 5 or something 
This isn't me jumping on the Twilight hate train because I like Twilight in a sense, but I just don't see any of them genuinely enjoying it and being apart of the Team Jacob vs Team Edward debate 
He for sure ain't rewatching the movies 
His niceness is only going so far. At some point he gotta deliver the news to you 
Bella's lullaby is his shit now tho 
Tomas 
Supermassive Black Hole is a nice song 
So… he doesn't entirely hate it 
Like it though? Um… he likes that you like it
Unlike the other two, he'll read the books but he's only reading them because he's like “these movies gotta be popular for a reason. Maybe the books are better”
Does he finish? Probably not 
The love triangle ain't even balanced fr, so he's not really intrigued by that part
I can see him being into the supernatural stuff but I mean, it's not like it's super expounded on 
Is he Team Edward or Team Jacob? Neither 
Bi-Han hates everyone, Kuai Liang doesn't like love triangles, Tomas doesn't like Bella 
Playing both sides when it's convenient for you is something he's not fond of. Pick one and stay on that one 
Who’s his favorite character? He jumps from side characters 
The main characters are probably never his favorite. They're always doing something that makes him raise a brow 
I can possibly see this becoming a series he hates so much, he feels the need to rewatch it 
He spots plot holes and now he can no longer unsee them
He really does try to pick a team if you want him to but it's like “I know who she ends up with so what's the point?”
The point is to be part of the community Tomas 
“I thought you didn't like Twilight” “I need background noise” “...” “I need to feel something” “I get it”
Love hate relationship 
He just like me fr 
54 notes · View notes
Text
Tricky Enemies to Lovers Situation
[Note from WQA: I answered a question yesterday that went missing after it was queued, so this is my best effort to recreate the original question and my answer efficiently...]
Anonymous asked: I have an enemies to lovers story where there's no opportunity for the characters to get together where they wouldn't immediately fight one another. How can I give them the opportunity to get to know each other and fall in love in a way that's believable?
The Abandoned Mission: the first thing you have to establish--which you probably have since you mentioned (in the lost ask) that you had their arcs fleshed out, knew why they fell in love, etc.--is what allows this love to flourish despite starting on opposite sides, because what you don't want to do is have one say, "I know you're trying to destroy my village, but I love you, so heckin' go for it!"
-- one starts to come around, realizes their side is wrong, and switches sides
-- both sides unite against a common/far worse enemy
-- both realize that the fight is pointless/futile/both sides wrong
This will be part of their character arcs... or at least the arc of whoever changes sides... as they start to see the truth through getting to know the other one, start questioning their beliefs, and begin to change their mind.
Accessibility: Your first challenge is finding a non-combat way to get them together, or at least get them talking if not face-to-face. It all depends on your story and what makes sense within it, but some ideas:
Supernatural Communication - Is there a supernatural way for them to be face-to-face or at least communicate? Think of the mental connection between Alina and the Darkling in Shadow and Bone, or the force bond betwen Rey and Kylo Ren in the Star Wars movies. It could be a telepathic connection, a magical connection, or even a magical object that allows them to be in the same place or simply communicate.
Technological Communication - Or, maybe your story takes place in our world, in the recent past or near future. Or perhaps in a far-future sci-fi world. Is there some sort of technology that could allow them to be in the same place or easily communicate? Something like a hologram projector, "holodeck" type area that can be accessed by people in two different places, or even simply video calls or text messages?
Old School Communication - Even if a supernatural or technological form of communication doesn't work in your story, you can always rely on good old-fashioned handwritten letters.
Stuck Together - Another option is for them to somehow get stuck together in some situation where they're both vulnerable. Like, maybe there's some disaster when they're both in the same place and end up in a survival struggle together. Or, maybe they're both abducted by an even worse third party, and have to work together to escape. Maybe the villain's resolve is weakening, so they're overthrown by someone within their organization, imprisoned, and then it's this faction who imprisons your character (and not the love interest villain), forcing them to work together to escape.
All you have to do in any of the above scenarios is figure out how and why they start communicating in the first place. Maybe the villain reaches out to the MC thinking they're a weak link that will spill information, or maybe the MC intercepts a courier carrying a letter from the villain to an ally--and the MC decides to write back. Maybe the villain is a little extravagant and holds a party via their version of a holodeck and your MC sneaks in and is caught... but this opens up the door for them to continue meeting this way. Even if they just meet once out in the woods, bathing in a lake and caught totally off-guard, there are always ways to get these two characters "in the same room" outside of a combative context. You just need to brainstorm a little.
The Ice Breaker: once you get them face-to-face or communicating in whatever way, there needs to be some sort of ice breaker to get them talking about something other than the conflict at hand. This could be one noticing and commenting about something they have in common... like noticing the other is wearing a cultural bracelet and realizing they have that culture in common. Or one realizing the other is fluent in their language, and coming to learn they were born there or their parent was born their. It could be one observing the other experiencing a red flag from their side and pointing it out with commentary. (Like: "See the way they lie to you? That's what they do to my people...") It could be one making a joke, a snarky quip, or illustrating some knowledge or skill that intrigues the other. It could even be a rendering of aid... maybe one catches the other when they trip, one patches up the other's injury, or one provides a translation or other nonsensitive data. Again, it just all depends on the situation in your story and what's believable.
The first version of this ask was so, so much better. I'm hoping against hope that I inadvertently replied privately instead of sending it to the queue. But I wanted to do my best to recreate it in case it really did get eaten by the Tumblr goblins.
I hope this version is still helpful!
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!
LEARN MORE about WQA
SEE MY ask policies
VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts
COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa
30 notes · View notes
theerurishipper · 14 hours
Note
I think the Batman's sidekicks equal child soldiers comes from them being called soldiers. Bat books seem to embrace the 'war on crime' narrative more as they are more gritty. On top of this Batman is emotionally incompetent meaning he treats his kids more like soldiers than children sometimes.
It's also quantity of sidekicks. Like, Barry had Wally. He didn't have any other kid sidekicks at the same time. Batman has a solid army and it often feels like one. They often feel more militarized than other 'fams'. Also, he is too controlling and doesn't treat this solid army of children well. So obviously when a character mistreats everyone around them, people are more likely to see the flaws. A kid cheerfully fighting aside their adult mentor isn't going to get called a child soldier but a kid written with a more gritty undertone is (especially because of the war on crime stuff).
He also had the whole 'good soldier' memorial which says he kinda viewed Jason, a dead 15 year old he adopted, as a soldier. Even though they were portrayed as a father son relationship so this immediately damages the perception of his relationships with his other children.
Also, the Under the Red Hood Movie is an entry level media for Bat fandom. It starred Mr Ackles of Supernatural fame. There is a huge child soldier narrative in the treatment of Sam and Dean by their father so Supernatural fans are more likely to see these themes. So Ackles fans watching the movie and then getting into the Batfam stuff will obviously latch onto this.
Also, this is not the only incident in superhero fandom where certain characters are singled out as child soldiers for other characters. This narrative is also present in some parts of the X-Men fandom, especially regarding the relationship of Professor X and Cyclops. As it is another incident of an adult character 'rescuing' a child in need and (I can't think of a better word) indoctrinating them to their cause.
I think another thing is the fact the Bats do not have powers. So narrative of 'with great power, comes great responsibility' only actually applies to Batman himself with his obscene wealth. So the classic narrative of you have power so you have to help people with them doesn't apply here. Most of the kids he recruits could have relatively normal lives. Jason, whose fans propagate this take heavily, did not ask to be Robin. Batman gave it to him. I also feel that Starlin was trying to have an arc about why having a child sidekick was bad in the Jason's Robin run so Jason's fans are more likely to be critical of the child sidekick thing. It basically goes 'maybe I should not have had this child fight crime' (while Jason is still alive) to 'it's Jason's own fault he got himself killed' which looks really bad.
So it just feels like a lot of factors give more and more people these kind of takes in a way that doesn't apply to other characters. Wonder Woman mostly fights alongside adults. The Flash is also adult heavy (Barry, Jay, Max as in adults that started as adults). Shazamily is all near is age (argument for Wizard perhaps). Lanterns, adults. Arrow family are usually a bit older than the bats and get less attention. Ect.
For me the thing is that... this is fiction. Not a one-to-one direct reflection of reality. In real life, we would frown upon vigilantism as a concept, but enjoying characters like Batman and Superman requires some suspension of disbelief. The same idea should be applied to the idea of sidekicks in general, something that would be very wrong in reality, but is acceptable within the fictional world of DC. Admittedly Batman is usually more grounded than the other books, but it still is within the fictional world of DC, where having child sidekicks in okay. Where letting children fight crime is not inherently wrong, and what defines whether it's good or bad is the intent of the person training/raising them (Bruce or Barry or Oliver as opposed to David Cain or Slade Wilson). We need to view it through that lens, otherwise it's kinda just bad faith criticism.
Another thing to consider is that Batman is an emotionally withdrawn character. It's pretty clear that he did not consider Jason a simple soldier for the cause, or his death wouldn't have ruined him the way it did. And honestly, for every Jason is a soldier case in the Batcave (something he got yelled at for btw), there is a Bruce giving Damian a heartfelt speech about how his kids aren't soldiers. For every moment Bruce treats his kids like soldiers, there is a moment where he openly admits to how much he loves them. I suppose after a point of time it's all up to interpretations, especially since the latter are far and few between, but canon has been pretty clear that Bruce loves his children above all else, and that he doesn't see them as soldiers. That's actually been a plot point a few times, so I think it shouldn't be a question that he sees them as sons and daughter and not soldiers. After all, the whole reason he does what he does for them is so that they don't turn out like him. Him coming off as seeing them like soldiers is not because it's the truth of what he thinks, it's because he can't express himself.
I did say there are plenty of other reasons to criticize Bruce as a character, one of them being the fact that he behaves abusively to his kids. But that's not a symptom of them being child soldiers. My post mostly stemmed from me seeing a lot of criticism of Batman "throwing kids into tights and a cape instead of getting them therapy," and it's like, nooooo. He very explicitly did not do that. They chose the life. Most of them would have done it whether or not Bruce was there. The kids being crimefighters isn't the problem.
If the cheerful thing is what differentiates them from others, the Robins have had that with Batman. Dick and Bruce actually had great fun as Batman and Robin, for instance, before things went sour. Jason may have been given Robin by Bruce, but he also loved being Robin and said it gave him magic. The inherent idea of kids fighting crime is not the issue in a fictional world. Robin in itself is something of a child empowerment kind of thing, a genre staple, at least in the beginning. We don't go around calling every child protagonist a child soldier, do we? It would be an inherently unethical thing in real life, but this is fiction. We have to have some amount of suspension of disbelief when it comes to that, just like we do for the idea of vigilantism itself. Otherwise, we wouldn't have a story.
My take on it is this: there are no child soldiers in DC (when it comes to the sidekicks). Because it's fiction. Within the conventions of the genre, it's well and good for Bruce or anyone to let kids fight crime. Bruce being an abuser is a different conversation entirely, one that should not be derailed with accusations of him raising child soldiers. Those are not a thing in DC, and we would all be happier if we accepted that. My post was specifically about that, that Bruce letting kids fight crime is not inherently a bad thing within the context on the world they operate in. I made the OG post because I saw a lot of criticism towards Bruce for the very act of letting kids fight crime, not because of how he treats them but because he apparently indoctrinated and manipulated them into his war on crime, just criticism for the very act of him letting them do so.
I've also seen talk about how awful it is for Bruce to continue to let kids be Robins after one died, and I just have to say, do you not want Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain and Damian Wayne and Duke Thomas and every other kid hero in the Batfam to exist? Because if Batman were to do the right thing, they shouldn't exist. But, again, this is fiction. It's a story about superheroes. As per the rules of the story, Batman needs a Robin. Someone was going to be created to fill the void, and it was Tim Drake.
And if we go down that route, what does this say about Conner Kent and Bart Allen and Cassie Sandsmark and the other heroes like them? Because if Bruce is in the wrong for letting kids fight after Jason died, so are the other heroes who allow kids to keep fighting after one sidekick died on the job. Was Clark Kent raising a child soldier when he allowed Jon to fight crime? And it's also funny to me cause again, Tim Drake practically forced Bruce to take him on as Robin, with the explicit blessing of former Robin Dick Grayson, and Alfred Pennyworth. Everyone else was already in the life, and Bruce just helped them out. They would have done it regardless of him. So, to frame it in a manner as though he forced them into it, or he didn't care that Jason died and that it could happen to them too is wrong.
Perhaps it's because Batman is the most popular DC hero, perhaps it's because he's had the most sidekicks, perhaps it's because one of them died, but it's still not a correct argument. Again, there are very legitimate criticisms to be made of Bruce, ones I can agree with wholeheartedly, but this is not one of them. He is toxic and controlling and abusive to his kids, but they are not child soldiers. It is that very specific thing that I am objecting to. And that's what I think a lot of replies to my post misunderstand, because they're conflating Bruce being abusive with Bruce raising child soldiers, and I while I agree with their general point, I disagree with the framing and the inferences made from it. And then there are the people who inspired me to make the post, who are just wrong.
So, I do agree with a lot of the criticisms of Bruce and a lot of your points! I can see where the idea comes from considering how Bruce treats his kids, but I don't think the correct takeaway is that they are child soldiers specifically. Victims of abuse from Bruce? Sure. Not child soldiers. I hope this makes sense.
Thank you for your ask!
Just... gonna leave this here...
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
29 notes · View notes
catboyfelixer · 3 days
Text
The Shop Down The Street | Bang Chan
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Chan x GN!Reader Summary: You've walked down this street many times before, but somehow you never noticed this vintage store until you're literally forced to look at it. They've got some really cool clothes, a huge vinyl record collection, and a cute guy working at the counter. But when you stumble upon a section of the store you shouldn't be able to see, you realize that there's more to this world (and to yourself) than you once thought. Genre: Fluff, Humor, Supernatural Notes: i dont have notes but i will say chan looks really cute in that pic
Tumblr media
It was a gust of wind that brought you here, but it felt more like a push. A force at your back propels you forward, and you come face to face with a peculiar shop you've never seen before. "Castlebrook Vintage" the sign out front reads, and through the glass you see a wooden interior filled with racks of clothes and lined with old books on the shelves. It's strange, you walk past this area once a week; surely you would've noticed a cute vintage store here, right?
There's something in your chest pulling at you to go inside, and when you open the door, the chimes echo an intimate song that welcomes you in.
As soon as you step in, you feel the change in temperature. The cold wind is replaced a cozy warmth that is accentuated by the warm yellow lights. You are immediately greeted by an array of interesting clothes, all arranged near the entrance. An old rock song you don't recognize is playing on the speakers, and it accompanies you while you look through the vintage jeans at the front. You're alone in the store, save for a boy beside the counter hanging jackets on a rack. He's quietly singing along to the song, until the drums kick in and he starts hitting the rack with coat hangers as if they were drumsticks. He's got a cute face, and unexpectedly large biceps that are very visible under the black band t-shirt he's wearing. He notices you looking in his direction and flashes a smile, and you pretend you weren't just looking at his arms.
"Need help finding anything?"
"Uh, no! Just browsing," you say, and continue rifling through clothes in an attempt to look busy.
"Alright, if you need anything let me know," he says, and the singing continues as he gets back to work.
To save yourself the embarrassment of being caught checking out a cute guy, you walk further in the store. Long tables stand in the middle of the room, stacked with boxes of vinyl records that are neatly sorted by genre and alphabetical order. Maybe one day you'll take the time to comb through the huge variety of music, but the oddities at the back of the store are what draws your interest.
There's a glass cabinet full of interesting old dinnerware, and walls covered in paintings of ships out at sea. Shelves are full of old technology, old boomboxes and record players. You even spot an Atari with a row of games beside it, but the price of it makes you recoil. You turn around to see other things, and are startled by the life size clown mannequin in the corner you somehow missed. Strangely enough, right when you see it, you feel that same pull that drew you to the store. Beside the mannequin, there's an open door. You can see a tiny portion of the room inside, but the many colors peak your interest.
You carefully walk past the clown and peer into the room. On one side, dark wooden shelves are lined with small glass bottles filled with vibrantly colored liquids. On the other, jars of herbs sit beside crystals and other rocks. The table in the middle is crowded with candles, crystal balls and other weird props that look straight out of a Halloween movie. Bookshelves cover the back wall, and you even see cauldrons and brooms in the corner.
This store must have a lot of interesting clientele.
You enter the room to get a better look, and are immediately hit with the worst headache of your life. Every second that passes feels like it gets stronger, until you're on the floor clutching your head.
You vaguely hear someone talking, but the pain is so strong you can't make out what's being said. And then an instant later, the headache is gone.
"Are you ok?"
You look up from the floor, and see the employee from earlier.
"I... I think so?"
He extends his arm towards you, and pulls you up off the ground.
"Sorry about that," he says, "I didn't know you were gonna walk in there. If you said something earlier, I would've turned that off."
Before you can ask what he meant, he steps into the room and gestures for you to come in, which you oblige.
"So, is there anything you need? Potions are here, ingredients are there, tomes are at the back. If there's anything specific you're looking for, I can get it for you."
He looks at you as if you understand what he's talking about at all.
"What is this place?"
This time, he looks at you as if you've just said something ridiculous.
"You know... the witch room. If you can see this room, you must be a witch, right?"
"Riiiiiiight. The witch room. For witches. Ok."
He pauses for a second.
"You're not a witch, are you."
"Wouldn't that be crazy if I was?" You laugh at the thought, but he looks completely serious.
"Then how did you see this room..." he says, more to himself than to you.
"I mean... the door was open."
"You must have some latent magic in you."
"Yeah, ok sure."
"I know it sounds hard to believe," he says, "but it's the reason you felt that migraine when you walked in here. It's a protection spell. Like an anti-robbery alarm but for witches."
"Or I just get migraines sometimes."
"That would be an incredible coincidence," he says. He walks towards the glass bottles on the shelves. "If we're gonna do this, I should probably do it right." He clears his throat before continuing.
"My name is Chan, and we are witches." He grabs a glass bottle in the shape of a raindrop, pops the cork, and takes a sip of the bright blue liquid inside.
Nothing happens.
"Wait for it..." he says, while nothing continues to happen. "Why is this taking so long-" His body starts to glow blue, and he floats a few inches off the ground. He waves his hand above his head to signal no wires holding him up.
Well damn... magic is real. Or you haven't figured out the trick yet, but magic is more fun to believe.
He floats closer to you and holds out the bottle.
"Wanna try?"
"Uh... I probably shouldn't drink random liquids from strangers."
"You know my name, so I can't be a stranger," he says, before returning the bottle to its place on the shelf, "but I get it. You're missing out though!"
"You said we're witches, right? Can I do magic too?"
"Yup. But I'm guessing you never got taught the basics." He thinks for a bit, and walks towards the back. You follow him to the bookshelves, and he searches through 2-inch thick tomes covered in dust. Finally, he pulls out a thin soft-cover book called 'Magicality: Ages 1-4'. It's bright yellow and the cover has two cartoon bears wearing witch hats.
"Every witch grew up on the Magicality books," he says, handing it to you. "These two bears are my Spongebob. They even made some VHS tapes with these guys and I watched those episodes religiously."
You flip through it, and there's plenty of pictures of the bears teaching the (presumed) infant reader how to do simple and safe spells like making glitter appear, interspersed with jokes and coloring pages.
"This is really cute. Thanks, Chan."
"Read through that, maybe do a word search or two, and you'll have the basics down in no time," he says, "and then come back and I'll teach you more." He winks at you and smiles. "Stuff like this."
He reaches for your hand and opens it, palm up. He traces his fingers on your palm in a circle, and specs of golden light follow his fingers. He slowly lifts his hand and red flower petals materialize one by one, blowing away in the light breeze created by the motion of his hand.
The only way you can describe it is beautiful. Any seed of doubt in the back of your mind disappears; this is real, beautiful magic.
Carefully, the movement slows and his hand goes back down to yours, ending the display.
"Aw, don't stop there..." you say, pouting. He laughs softly.
"I could keep going, or you could come back another time and I'll teach you how to do it yourself."
"So you can sell me another book?" you ask, sarcasm in your voice.
"No, I promise it's not to sell you another book," he says, and places a hand on his heart.
This is the second time he's said he wants to see you again.
"I was gonna sell you a crystal or something, though," he adds. You roll your eyes at that.
"What days do you work?" you ask. He taps his chin, thinking a bit before answering.
"Tell you what. Why don't you text me when you've read Magicality, and I'll let you know my next work day." He pulls out his phone, and opens the 'add contact' screen. "Or you can text me if you just feel like talking."
The cute guy you somehow managed to talk to is asking for your number. He's looking at you with a sparkle in his eye, and you don't know if it's magic or anticipation. Finally, you take his phone and add your information.
"So that's your name. I've been trying to figure out how to ask without ruining the flow of the conversation."
"Oh, sorry. I can't believe I forgot to tell you my name."
"It's all good!" he says, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Before I ring you up for your book, how about I show you one last trick?"
"Really?"
"Yeah! Normal witches are so used to magic that they don't care when something cool happens. But every time I show you something, you have a look of awe on your face. It's really cute."
You hope the blood rushing to your cheeks isn't visible.
"This is my favorite potion. You're gonna be so shocked at what it does."
He walks back to the glass bottles (which you now know are potions) and picks one up shaped like a star. A deep blue liquid swirls around inside as he lifts it.
Once again, he pops off the cork and takes a sip, only this time he recoils at the taste. He looks back and reads the label, and his eyes widen.
"Oh, shit. This was the wrong-"
He doesn't even finish his sentence before collapsing to the ground, face down. The bottle doesn't shatter as it crashes to the ground, but the contents of it spill around him.
"Um."
You stand there in shock for a minute. You walk closer to gently kick his lifeless body, and sigh in relief when he snores. He's not dead, just asleep.
"I'm just gonna... go."
You take out your wallet, pull out a ten dollar bill, and place it on his head. Hopefully that covers the book.
Not sure what to do next, you walk out of the witch room and through the store to the entrance. There's no other employees working there, so with Chan dead on the floor—sorry, asleep on the floor—it's probably not a good idea to leave the store unlocked. Unfortunately, you don't have a key, so you just flip over the 'OPEN' sign to 'CLOSED' and head back home.
43 notes · View notes
lvmity · 3 days
Text
shout out to whoever first mentioned that they just made will in love with mike for no reason as far as we know. it's just something that's canon now. no relevance to the overall plot. not affecting anyone but will (and jonathan and maybe mike right now, through the painting.)
unless.
unless it's more important than originally thought.
unless mike...
ps: (just because i know someone can comment) "oh but are you saying it's unnecessary and irrelevant" NO im just saying to most people it can look like that and it's not relevant to the main supernatural plot
35 notes · View notes
Text
Polish and Shine (Supernatural One-Shot)
Tumblr media
Sam Winchester x GN!Reader / requests are open
Summary: Sam chews on his nails a lot. Too much. You come up with a plan to break the habit.
Fic type: comfort, fluff
CW: this lil fic contains mentions of Sam wanting to explore his gender : ) not much, just mentions of him enjoying feeling feminine (please be gentle with me, this one has a lil piece of me in it).
SPN: @wereallbrokenangels @nervoussystemss (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
It's not something you noticed a lot at first. To be quite honest, your social awareness wasn't the best, and looking at people head-on was something you struggled with even after you got to know someone.
But you did start noticing it. It seemed that he did it more at night when it was just him and his thoughts and the big dark room lit up only by his laptop at the table. On a side note, he was going to ruin his eyesight if he kept that up.
But he also did it in the Impala, or after a disturbing interview, or even just when Dean was late back from some girl or guy's place he picked up at the bar.
Chewing his nails... Sam was always chewing on his nails. You understood why, of course. It was an anxiety thing. A stress thing. You'd be lying if you said you didn't fall victim to the same impulse sometimes, but the amount of nail-chewing was starting to worry you.
It had gotten so bad that Dean had started slapping at Sam's hand if he noticed him raising it towards his mouth, one hand on the wheel and his eyes piercing warning daggers into Sam's soul as he pointed at him accusatorially. A silent "stop it right now before I turn Baby around."
It only stopped him from doing it so much on the road. Less so anywhere else. You'd been keeping a quiet eye on Sam the last few days, watching him chew his nails back to the skin. Irritating the skin and the keratin so much that it was probably hurting him. You weren't even sure what was worrying him so much.
You'd been brainstorming ideas to help him with the impulse for a few days until it finally came to you one morning when you were making a med-kit run- stocking up on all the things you all would definitely need at one point or another.
Nail polish. Of course! You'd picked up a couple different colours- given they were all out of transparent along with your bandages, iodine and Betadine and headed back to the motel of the day.
Sam had looked at the bottles in your hand with a raised brow when you brandished them. He picked one up, twirled it around and set it down on the counter.
"Do you want me to paint your nails for you or something?" He asked. Now, you couldn't say that wasn't appealing and that you weren't keen on that idea, because you were, but that was not the purpose of this little exercise.
"Maybe later, Sam. I got them for you-"
"For me?" He cut you off with one of those little huffy laughs he was so good at. You pulled a chair out and sat down, setting the bag on the counter and grabbing one of the bottles.
"Yes, for you," you reiterated, reaching for one of his hands. Sam allowed you to take it and take a look at the abused fingers. "Look, I- I've noticed you chew your nails a lot- and this looks like it hurts. I know Dean wants you to stop, and I imagine you'd also like to break the habit, yes?"
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, averting his eyes from your warm gaze.
"Yes," was his soft reply. You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze.
"This might help you break the habit. Plus, you'll look super pretty."
Sam snorted. His eyes darted back to look at you, and you really saw how shy and vulnerable he was feeling at that moment. It made you want to wrap him up and keep him safe.
"So, they didn't have clear," you explained, voice soft as if trying not to spook a deer. Or a moose, you supposed, in this case. "But I got you a few colours to choose from. Which one takes your fancy?"
You know exactly what he's going to pick before he does it. The forest-green. He hands you the vial and you let go of his hand to shake it up and unscrew the cap.
Sam sits patiently for you while you work, occasionally clearing his throat or giving you a quick smile. It doesn't take long, only a few minutes. Let it dry, then another coat. Let that dry. Done.
"There, all done," you exclaim, leaning back and stretching your back so it pops nicely. "Very nice, very nice," you approve. Sam fans his fingers out and juts his lower lip out thoughtfully.
"You know- I kinda like it," he blinked as though the discovery shocked him. "Can I do yours next?"
And so began a tradition. Once a fortnight you'd both paint each other's nails. Dean even got into it after a few weeks, getting his own done, too. Sam had been worried at first that Dean would make fun of him for his nails, but the only thing Dean had said after he returned toting beer and Chinese food was "nice choice, Sammy" as he cracked a beer and propped his feet up.
Sam continued to chew on his nails for a bit. It was a learning curve, after all, but he did end up slowing down and eventually stopping completely. You hadn't mentioned to Sam that he'd stopped just in case he hadn't realised, but you and Dean had shared a beer over the silent victory. And when Sam brought the victory to you both a few days after that, all three of you shared a beer then, too.
You and Sam continued to wear different shades and Sam even learned to put the polish on himself, though he vastly preferred you to put it on for him. Considered a bonding moment, which was cute. Dean would participate occasionally, and eventually, Sam admitted that he liked how feminine the polish made him feel.
After that- things sort of migrated from just nail polish to brushing his hair and experimenting with colour in his wardrobe. That was all he was really comfortable with for now, but that wasn't a problem. You were just glad he felt comfortable enough to share such personal information with you.
You both loved each other so much, and one of the best things about found family was that you knew you would be pillars of support for each other.
No matter what.
27 notes · View notes
Tumblr media
Here's my S3 theory. (I'd be thrilled to hear yours as well.)
I am writing this now so that when S3 finally drops in 24 billion months or whatever, I can look back at my notes and feel very smug and smart. Or laugh at myself for how wrong I got it.
My point is, dolphins. Or rather-- that terrible yet well-written cliffhanger:
At the very very end of S2, as Aziraphale was going up the elevator to Heaven, I'm pretty sure he knew he was going to have to work under cover to prevent the end of the world. Certainly after watching the recordings of Gabriel and what happened when HE protested, Aziraphale would realize that the bureaucracies of Heaven and Hell were determined to get to a final battle.
The Second Coming, from what (admittedly minimal amounts) I've read of it, doesn't have quite as many plot points as the arrival of the Antichrist. Jesus is supposed to show up in a burst of dramatic weather, all the humans who have ever lived are going to be immediately tossed into Heaven or Hell, and... That's about it? (I was actually raised Catholic, but I didn't pay much attention in Sunday school, and as an adult I don't really interact with religion. This isn't my best trivia subject, in other words.)
Anyway, at some sooner-rather-than-later point I think Aziraphale is going to decide to let all the angels and demons who want to fight it out with flaming swords have their go, and he is going to focus on preventing everyone else from getting hurt while that happens. Maybe the final sorting of goodies and baddies is going to involve processing all of humanity through some massive portals. And maybe Aziraphale is going to use his new position of power in Heaven's bureaucracy to change where the portal exit point is. There have been sooo many references to Alpha Centauri in the first two seasons, and that's presumably where Beelzebub and Gabriel went at the end of S2. I bet they would be willing to help with portal setup and receiving refugees on their end.
I'm not entirely certain what Crowley's role will be in S3. I can totally picture Aziraphale coming to him and saying, "Let's run off to Alpha Centauri together, only I've got several billion humans I want to bring with me." Maybe Crowley will have to help with portal setup down in the basement offices of hell. Or maybe he will need to convince Jesus to join Team Save Humanity (Crowley was friendly with Jesus once upon a time and did show him all the kingdoms of the world, after all.)
I think there are going to be some funny bits with the Nazi zombies from past seasons and all the other people who are being raised from the dead.
In the original book, Adam said that Heaven and Hell were a lot like his gang, the Them, and their rival gang, the Johnsonites: They were always trying to beat one another, but it wouldn't be any good if one of them actually did win. Having a rival gives you something to do, after all. I don't think there can ever be a final resolution between good and bad. They're kind of like death -- baked into the system. It's going to be a stalemate.
I also suspect that God is playing a many-layered game. All the demons and angels are helping to judge and deliver consequences to humans for their use of free will. But maybe God is watching all the angels and demons to see whether they understand that being on a team doesn't mean that you can't make your own moral decisions and act outside the party line.
Ultimately I think the battle will end and the human refugees will return to Earth. Our favorite supernatural couple will buy a flat with a garden somewhere, and that's where the story will end -- in a garden, just as it began.
20 notes · View notes
Text
Find the word
Thanks @aziz-reads for the tag!
Rules: find the words given in your WIPs, then tag people with more words!
My words: frame, vain, stake, fix
Your words: refuse, beam, own, product
Softly tagging with no pressure @mk-writes-stuff @sleepywriter00 @nailamoonsi @somethingclevermahogony @eccaiia @bread-roses-and-chrome @gottestod-writes + anyone else
TSP intro
TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites
Keep reading for:
Rose's home life (CW: neglectful parent)
Akash is happy Gwen pissed Carmen off
Robbie and Lexi meet
Debate about screen brightness
Frame - The Secret Portal Part One (Rose POV)
I let out a high-pitched grunt of annoyance before stomping off to my room. A part of me knew she was right. I should’ve brought my keys as a backup plan. She wasn't reliable anyway. As I opened the door to my room, I glanced back at my mother as she sat back on the couch, watching the telenovela that was playing. I turned away, slamming the door to my room behind me, hoping my mother would tell me I wasn't allowed to do that. But there was no correction. I tossed my backpack to the side harshly. It slammed into the wall and knocked a picture frame down to the floor. I bent down and picked quickly hung it back up so I wouldn’t have to look at my three-month-old self in my mom’s smiling arms as my smiling dad had his arm wrapped around her. My room was the only splash of color in this house—the only part of my house that deserved to be called home. My art supplies got their own shelf and were organized the way I want. My projects I kept in my sketchbook, which I never showed my mom. She didn’t like the way I decorated my room or any of my designs. She loved to tell me I needed to apply myself to school as much as my art. But even if I did apply myself more in school, she wouldn’t notice. I collapsed onto my bed and screamed into the pillow, then lay there for a couple of minutes, taking in the scent.
Vain Cocky (closest synonym) - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)
I’d overheard Dr. Moon say something about “powers,” so maybe that’s what he meant. It sounded strange, but Akash was floating. Dr. Moon said that I could be showing “several” abilities, so that was weird, too. Did I have a power? Context alone indicated that. They didn’t see me…. My mind spun, so I looked back at Akash as I followed him down the next hall. At first, I thought he was being cocky and showing off his strange, supernatural ability, but that demeanor seemed only a façade—nothing more. Maybe flying was simply that fun. Or maybe I was distracted because he was cute, but I didn’t think I was that shallow. “So, Gwen,” Akash said, turning around to fly backward. “Where’re you from?” “Clear Lake City,” I said. “Texas.” Akash smiled. “Southlake. Up near Dallas. How cool is it we’re both from Texas?” I stared at him. “You’re not from here?” I didn’t exactly know where here was, but all the same, I could figure I wasn’t in Texas anymore. Akash stopped mid-flight, causing me to abruptly halt. “No. Dr. Moon and Dr. Asghar only take Alii from our side. Ceteri. That’s what they call it.” He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t they tell you?” “No. They kidnapped us and locked us in this purple-glowing-thing. The dampener? Is that what you said?” Akash nodded. “What did they do?” Akash rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s how they got me and my buddy, Robbie. They’re actually okay once you get to know them. Questionable methods, but their hearts, I know how it sounds, are in the right place. Hey, what powers do you have?” “Powers?” I repeated. My thought was right. “Yeah,” said Akash. “You’re Alii, aren’t you?” “I have no idea what you’re saying,” I admitted. “What does Alii mean? One of the doctors mentioned that. Is it Latin?” Akash scrunched his eyebrows. “You don’t know? Dr. Asghar never releases anyone unless they’ve been briefed.” “Oh, I, uh, sorta escaped,” I stuttered. Akash stared at me. “You got away from them?” I nodded, and to my surprise, Akash laughed, clapping his hands together. “I knew someone would do it one day! Dr. Asghar must be pissed!”
(Mi)Stake - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)
I grunted as a sudden force ran into me, knocking me to the ground. I yelped and scrambled out from underneath the person and clambered to my feet, trembling from the unexpected touch. “Am I that repulsive to you?” a teasing voice said. I turned to look at the person who ran into me: a teenage boy a year or so older than me. It took me a second to collect myself. “No,” I said as he stood. “It just… freaked me out.” The boy was about average height for his age and had a slim, but fit, frame. He had thick dark hair framing his face and big, dark eyes framed by wire-thin glasses. His hair was cut relatively short, but his bangs were somewhat long—parted on the right. He laughed. “Freaked me out, too.” He crossed his arms. “So… are you one of Gwen’s friends?” “You know Gwen?” I asked, standing in surprise. “What is she doing here?” “Sorta, I met her an hour… and maybe a half ago, I dunno what time it is—-passed out due to,” he gestured to the charred walls, “the explosion.” “Wait, are you Robert Stafford?” “No, actually, I’m Stobert Rafford—common mistake.” I blinked. The boy kept eye contact with a straight face. His mouth twitched. The delay stopped as I cachinnated—that was a fun word. The boy joined in. “Sorry, that was stupid.” “No, no, it wasn't,” I said as I tried to compose myself. “Yeah, it was, I’m laughing at my own joke.” “Okay, fine, it was stupid, but that’s why it was funny.” He smiled, dark eyes shining. “Finally, someone gets it!”
Fix - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)
SORARA’s voice announced the Recruits entering the door, and I instinctively fixed my cap to make sure it was on correctly. “—way too bright,” Lexi was saying as she turned the corner into the living room. “You’ll melt your retinas.” “I need to be blinded by the screen,” Gwen was saying. “If I’m not, it’s too dark.” “I’m starting to see why you needed glasses.” Gwen laughed, and her eyes landed on mine, now slightly obscured by new rectangular black glasses. I instinctively raised my hand to rub it through my hair but it ended up hitting the hat instead, pushing it slightly back. I tried to fix it again. Of course, Gwen’s new fashion statement looks cute while I look like the biggest dork on the planet. She smiled at me. I raised my hand in greeting. “Robbie!” Lexi said, snapping me back. “Let me see your phone!” “Huh? Okay.” Robbie shifted to reach into his pocket to pull out his phone. He handed it to her but she shook her head. “Just turn it on and show me the screen.” Robbie did as told, causing Lexi to laugh triumphantly. “Ha! That’s not that bright, and he wears glasses.” Gwen shrugged.
15 notes · View notes
Text
Tmagp 006 spoilers
So.. Celia Ripley, huh? Not at all connected to Lynne Hammond, the girl who specifically changed her name to Celia after losing her memory? No? Not even if they have the same voice actor? Alright. But I'm keeping an eye on you Ms. Ripley.
609 notes · View notes
shyshitter · 3 months
Text
“dm me if you need to talk”???? sorry i guess for the insurmountable pain your fans inflicted upon you for 12 years. it’s definitely our fault you made that gay sex tape for airport security and joked about fucking your coworker at every opportunity. i had no idea we had stripped you of your agency in such a way. jensens gonna be devastated. he’ll never release the tapes now
375 notes · View notes
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
The most terrifying creature of all
[First] Prev <--> Next
754 notes · View notes
franklespine · 4 months
Text
You know I think you guys might be on to something when you call Sam woman coded cause - genuinely - how do you, as writers of a show, be so misogynistic as to not include any female characters asides from damsels and hookups (specifically referring to the early seasons), and yet need so desperately to have a outlet for macho masculine patriarchy power dynamics that you have an adult male character experience misogyny?? How do you mess up that badly??
It's like, although they thought that putting female characters in the narrative other than to exist as sexy distressed lamps wouldn't appeal to the true blooded 2000s American audience. But yet it was completely necessary for there to be a bottom rung in the masculinity pyramid because - well how else can we as a society function!!
Anyway, ik reading too far into things is my special talent, and in most circumstances all of this stuff is just a joke in the show but wow they really had Dean poking fun of any of Sam's characteristics that don't fit into this Hyper True Blooded American Masculinity ideology as a butt of jokes for 15 years. The fact that he has longer hair, that he cares about his hair, that he's tidy, that he likes salads and isn't a big meat eater, that he's sympathetic, that he's a bitch. And of course these are just silly little jabs that Dean makes in sibling-like fashion but like wow 15 years. Damn.
And of course it's not only this that leads to the rather odd interpretation of a woman-coded Sam, but also the way he is treated directly by the narrative. Like, for example, being the family's possession, rather than an equal member. Dean has seen it as his job to look out for his little brother since he pulled him from the fire and the wellbeing of this infant was thrown onto his shoulders at age 4, and this has created a lot of ricocheting effects on both of them. This isn't to say that Dean doesn't love, care, respect, and value Sam, but it does mean that sometimes he treats him like a possession rather than a person. He makes a lot of crazy decisions in the show that he justifies as being for Sam's own good, even if it goes directly against Sam's wishes. After Sam leaves a note to Dean telling him he's going out for a bit to handle a case, Dean weasels his way in, not trusting him to handle it due to the mental issues Sam is facing at the time, and kills Amy, despite Sam begging him not to. Even though Dean knows Sam would never consent to an angle possessing him, he tricks him into it anyway. He does these things, and many others because he believes that he is acting in Sam's best interests, totally disregarding the fact that Sam has capacity to make judgements and handle the consequences himself, even going so far as to oppose what he directly knows or Sam tells him he wants.
Then of course there is the fact that the fear integral to his character - a loss of autonomy (bodily autonomy, but also autonomy to make his own decisions about his future, to be good, to be pure and faithful), is an explicitly feminine one. Then there is the strong subtext in his story of SA themes, I think in s4 a demon even refers to Sam as a 'whore' or that he's 'whoring it up' (with respect to Ruby), and the interesting prevalent idea of Sam questioning or going against the ideals/ideology of the masculine figure head (which would be Dean I guess) and getting punished for it. Sam suggests that maybe they take a more humanitarian approach with the cow blood drinking vampires in s2 and Dean punches him, Sam tries to get him to talk about their Dad and Dean punches him, Sam tries to get him to talk about Lisa and Ben and Dean punches him, Sam gets caught simply using his abilities and Dean punches him - twice. I think you get the picture.
Anyway. This post comes off as rather critical of Dean, which wasn't really my intention. It's more sort of a broader criticism of the rampant sexism that had its part in shaping the show - being one to come out of the early 2000s. Ideas such as this - you could really go on for hours as its fascinating how ideological frameworks are presented certain ways in media - and the way masculine and feminine social dynamics, to list only one, is presented in supernatural is definitely a can of worms.
210 notes · View notes
moonlight-stalker · 5 months
Text
# Dc x Dp 131 Halloween prompt
Every Halloween Fright Knight would lead the dead to the living world and at the end of the night he would collect any that were stuck in the living world
He has not been able to do this for several centuries because he had to guard Pariah Dark's sarcophagus but now that there is a new king he can get back to his original purpose which is guiding Souls and other creatures to the realms Zone.
When he gets back King Phantom tells him he seems to have made a few mistakes he did not realize how rusty he has become.
What Fright Night thought he brought back
8 ghost 1 of which is very sick
4 zombies
3 were animals
A false immortal
A spirit of fear
A child of Undergrowth
What he actually brought back
Calendar man - a man that does crime on holidays and significant date
Clayface - a human that can shape-shift
Firefly - a person who likes arson
Mr. Freeze - a man who is trying to find a cure for his wife ( Danny needs to get him to talk to Frostbite before he leaves )
Red Hood - not a full ghost but a halfa that's sick ( also needs to see Frostbite )
Robin - a very stabby human
The Joker - insane
The Mad Hatter - a man who is obsessed with Alice in Wonderland
Lord Death Man - a man who plays dead very convincingly
Solomon Grundy - actually a zombie
Two-Face - a person who has had a very bad injure
Tim Drake - a sleep-deprived human that is only alive because of coffee and spite ( get Nocturn to put the human to sleep for a couple of hours )
Killer Croc - a metahuman
Killer Moth - a man dressed as a moth
Man-Bat - is in fact a were animal
Ra's al Ghul - false immortal
The Scarecrow - a human that likes to spread fear ( Fright Night had known that he was human he was just maker sure that Scarecrow got the message that he isn't the master of Halloween )
Poison Ivy - is not a child of Undergrowth yet
171 notes · View notes
carebeardean · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
religious trauma sold separately! 💅✨
173 notes · View notes
castielssuperhell · 2 months
Text
jensen ackles hasn't posted anything for dean's birthday... feeling a deep sense of dread.
82 notes · View notes
hollybell51 · 1 year
Text
Gentleman
Tumblr media
Navigation
Sam Winchester x AFAB!fem!Reader
Supernatural (2005), s03e02 “bloodlust”
Word count: 4.6K
Summary: you and Sam don't exactly see eye to eye with Dean's new friend, so you return to the motel by yourselves. Things... escalate.  
Content: smutty smut smut! Shameless, loving, gentle porn with a bit of a plot. Tooth rotting sappiness and fluff. Bit of hurt/comfort, bit of angst. Reader is just so in love with Sam (I am too dw). Sam is down horrendously bad for the reader (I'm horrendously down bad for him. I cannot emphasise this enough). Use of (Y/N), but not too much. Hickeys, making out, extremely light switchiness (barely noticeable, just healthily flexible dynamics), blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, safe sex, vaginal sex. Hugs all round (someone needed to give these boys one), Dean and the reader get along, Dean has like one soft moment, there's quite a bit of reminiscing and stuff. Gordon's vibes are Off. As above, set during season 2 episode 3.
Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES! I'm (kinda) back, and my summaries have not gotten any better! Started watching Supernatural and got brainrot. Got lots of stuff planned but probably won't actually write it (sorry). The things I would let these two men do to me is insane like actually insane besties I am not ok. Anyways enjoy the by-product of my suffering, consider this a peace offering as I worm my way into the Supernatural fandom.
Also I have been working sporadically on some requests so if you made one chances are I've seen it and I have started it, but also I have Things in my Life right now that are very Stressful so yeah that's fun but yknow it is what it is, thanks everyone for being so supportive and patient with me xx
To say you were uncomfortable would have been an understatement. It wasn’t just how easily Gordon was talking about what had happened, or the too-bright light in his eyes as he recounted it, or Dean’s ease with the whole thing. It had been a freaking execution! And sure, the guy was a vampire, but the way the saw had just chewed right through his neck, the kicking of his legs as he’d died, the blood spraying over Dean’s face… yeah. As Sam had put it, decapitations weren’t really your idea of a good time. And it certainly wasn’t something you felt like laughing about over drinks. 
You could see Sam’s leg bouncing slightly, his face blank as he stared at the beer he was nursing. Your own stomach twisted with unease. Chances were, if he was on edge, so were you. The emotional interplay wasn’t new, and in fact, Dean gave you endless shit about it. “I don’t know what’s up with you,” he’d say. “I just gotta thank God I don’t develop some freaky emotional feedback loop with every girl I bang.” 
Now, Sam glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. You screwed up your nose. Not enough to be too noticeable, but enough to let him know you thought something was a bit off too. He nodded almost imperceptibly. 
“What’s up with you two?” Dean asked, frowning at your practically untouched beer. 
You shrugged. Sam shrugged. 
Dean rolled his eyes, taking a mouthful of his drink before turning to his new friend. “I swear,” he said, “they read each others' minds. He’s grumpy, she’s grumpy. She’s happy, he’s happy. I reckon if she stubbed her toe, he’d be limping.” 
Gordon barked a laugh, raising his eyebrows. “That so?” 
“Dean, come off it,” you sighed. 
He shook his head, smiling. “Lighten up, both of you.” 
You opened your mouth to say something about how you didn’t think lightening up was really appropriate given the circumstances, but the scraping of Sam’s chair cut you off. 
“I’m not gonna bring you guys down,” he said. “I’m just gonna go back to the motel.” 
“Yeah,” you agreed as he glanced at you, “I’m a bit tired.” 
Dean frowned. “You sure?” 
You nodded, standing. 
“Ok,” he shrugged. “Seeya.” 
“Seeya,” you smiled tightly, then passed him your unfinished beer. “You want this?” 
“You’re not taking it?” 
You shook your head. “Not in a beer sort of mood.” 
He gave you a searching look, then shrugged again and took the drink. “Sure.” 
“Thanks, Gordon.” You nodded to the other hunter. As much as you felt off about him, you didn’t need to be rude. 
He inclined his head back to you. “My pleasure.” 
Sam’s hand settled on your back as you joined him by the door, and you cast a final glance back at the two men remaining at the table. 
“Sammy!” Dean called, the car keys jingling in his hand as he tossed them to his brother. “Remind me to beat that buzzkill outta you later, alright?” 
Sam caught them with ease, Gordon’s enquiry of “something I said?” chasing you out the door. Hell yeah, it was something he said. It was everything he said.  
“Jesus,” you grumbled, shivering in the cold air. 
Sam snorted, absently shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. Equally thoughtlessly, you put it on. It had become something of a routine. Sam didn’t exactly get too cold very often, but you did. He was many things, and “gentleman” was pretty high on the list by you reckoning. 
“I don’t know about all of this,” he said, feet crunching on the gravel as he headed towards the car. “Something’s…” 
“Off, yeah.” You swung into the passenger seat, arms crossed firmly over your chest. 
“I can’t quite–” The engine cut him off for a moment, but he didn’t finish the sentence anyway. It didn’t matter.
“I know, it’s a brain itch.” 
Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Tell me about it. Seatbelt,” he added as the car rolled out of the parking lot, another habit between the two of you. You could have sworn you’d have been dead years ago if you hadn’t had someone reminding you to use the damn things, a fact that both Winchester brothers were not afraid to attempt to drill into you. They hadn’t had much success. 
You hummed as you clicked the strap across your body, shrinking further down into the seat. You were feeling better now that you weren’t sitting across from Gordon, now that it was just you and Sam. You loved Dean, of course you did, but Sam was just so easy to be around. The two of you clicked, simple as that, and you adored it. 
“I’m gonna call Ellen,” Sam said decisively, frowning at the road. “Maybe she knows him.” 
You nodded. “Mhm, good idea.” 
You were still humming – the melody from something that had been playing on the drive that day, you thought – as you entered the motel room, gulping down a glass of water before jumping onto the kitchen counter. Your heels made a dull thud, thud, thud, on the cupboards as you swung them, the zipper of Sam’s jacket swishing over the cheap vinyl. You watched him take a seat on the bed and dial Ellen. 
You listened idly to his side of the conversation, eventually sliding off the counter top and coming to sit behind him on the bed. You rested your head on his shoulder, sighing. It had been an oddly long day. 
“But I thought you said he was a good hunter,” he was frowning. 
You thought you heard her say “Hannibal Lecter”, and frowned too. Shit, was Gordon some kind of serial killer? You hoped not. 
Sam’s back was warm under your cheek, but his shoulders were tense. The last few weeks hadn’t been easy. You hadn’t known John Winchester well, but the time you’d spent with him had been… Well, it hadn’t been nice exactly, but you could see the love he had for his sons. You couldn’t imagine going through what Sam had, almost losing his brother and then really losing his father in the space of a week. You thought he was handling everything reasonably well, all things considered.
There’d been one moment, just a few days ago, when you’d thought he might crack. Dean had been out like a light in the back of the car, and you’d reached around to snap a photo of him squished up against the window. You’d laughed at it – he looked ridiculous. When you’d glanced up to show Sam, he was staring straight at the road, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 
“Alright?” you’d asked, and he’d nodded.
You’d frowned. “Want me to drive for a bit?”
This time, a head shake.
He wasn’t alright, you could see that clear as day. “Sam, pull over,” you said softly.
He’d swung the car off the road so abruptly you’d jerked against your seatbelt, simply sitting with his foot on the brake and both hands on the steering wheel.
You’d reached over and put the car in park, switching off the ignition. “Come on,” you’d said, “out.” 
He’d leant against the side of the car, arms crossed, staring out into the field you were driving past. 
“Interesting grass?” you’d asked, bumping your shoulder against his. 
He hadn’t smiled exactly, but his mouth had definitely twitched up a bit at the corner. You’d consider that a win. 
“Seriously,” you’d prodded. “What’s up?” 
“I don’t…” He’d trailed off, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “I can’t…” 
You’d frowned as he’d shaken his head, looking anywhere but you. You’d told yourself something like this was gonna happen eventually, prepped the whole “I’m here no matter what” speech a thousand times, but now you didn’t really know what to do. The only thing you could think of was to put your hand on his back, rubbing slow, soothing circles like your kindergarten teacher used to do when you were upset. 
Sam’s voice was choked when he finally spoke. “I can’t lose you.” 
Four words, but you were convinced your heart had shattered right there. 
“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, stepping to face him. You took his hands in yours, uncrossing his arms.
“How can you–?” 
You cut him off, shaking your head as you raised his hands to your face and kissed his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated. “Nowhere you can’t follow.” 
He’d just nodded, pulling you into a tight hug. You breathed deeply, the strong smell of the most recent laundromat’s detergent all around you, your fingers bunched in the back of Sam’s shirt. 
“I’ve got your back,” you whispered. “You know that, right?”
“I know,” he murmured into your hair, “I’ve got yours, too.” 
“Good.” You’d pulled away, smiling as you stretched up to kiss him. It was soft and chaste, but that was all either of you needed. 
Then Dean had woken up and shouted at you to save your “romantic moments” for when you weren’t supposed to be driving. You’d grumbled that he was just jealous, which he’d vehemently denied amongst a lot of vomit noises. But later, as you’d waited for Sam to get back with lunch, he’d put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. 
“I’m glad he’s got you,” he’d said. “Real glad.” 
“You’ve got me too,” you’d smiled. “Always.” 
He’d just stared at you for a moment, his arm still around you, before he’d cleared his throat and stepped back. “Thanks,” he’d muttered. “‘ppreciate it.”  
Now, with the same softness, you let your hand slide up Sam’s back and across his shoulders, then down his side. You brushed over his chest, down to his stomach, then back up to settle over his heart. You always forgot how big he was until you tried to get your arms around him, then it was like hugging a mountain. You loved it. 
He cleared his throat. 
You smiled, placing a soft kiss where his hair brushed the back of his neck, using your free hand to sweep it away. 
“Ok, yeah,” Sam said to Ellen. He sighed as your lips trailed higher, up under his ear. 
“Mhm, we will.” His fingers curled in the bed covers as you sucked ever so gently at the spot you’d found, the one you knew drove him insane. 
“Yep, alright. Thanks, Ellen.” A forceful swallow as you rubbed slow patterns across his front, nothing but the thin material of his shirt separating your hand from his skin. 
“Ok. Bye.” 
You smiled as the phone beeped, then was thrown to the bed. You eased your hand under his shirt, shivering as your fingers met the warm expanse of his torso. You could touch him like this forever, if you were given the chance. 
“What’re you doing?” he breathed, tilting his head back, baring his throat. 
“Kissing you,” you whispered as you moved down the muscle of his neck, “touching you,” as your hand ran gently over his pectoral, thumb grazing his nipple. 
“Mm, do I get to kiss you too?” 
You smiled. “If you ask nicely, yeah.” 
“Please?” 
“Hm?”
He sighed. “(Y/N), come on.” 
“Nope,” you laughed softly. “Ask nicely.” 
You felt his chest heave under your hand, and you pressed your mouth to his neck again. 
“Pretty please,” he murmured. 
You pretended to be considering this for a moment, dragging it out. Truth be told, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as he wanted to, but God it was fun teasing a bit. Especially like this, when it was you draped over his back, hinting at giving him hickeys, touching wherever you pleased. 
“Go ahead,” you replied. 
Before you could even draw another breath he’d turned and brought his hand up to cup your face, pressing his lips against yours. You let him lick into your mouth, his tongue sliding languidly alongside your own, the faint taste of beer still clinging to him. It was all so soft and gentle and full of care, everything you adored about him. 
He shifted back on the bed, turning to face you. Your hands were still under his shirt, arm still stretched across his body as he pushed against you. 
“I love this on you,” he murmured as his hands found the opening of his jacket, pushing it back over your shoulders. 
You smiled. “You want me to take it off?” 
“And this.” He plucked at the t-shirt you wore underneath, already coaxing it upwards. 
“Alright,” you laughed, batting his hands away. “Patience is a virtue.” 
“Whoever said that clearly never met you.” 
You looked away, hoping to hide the pink you could feel flooding your cheeks. However many times you did this, Sam never failed to get you flustered. You could sense his eyes on you as you stripped yourself of your shirt and his jacket, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine.
He started to shuffle back further onto the bed, one hand settling on your waist as he leant down to kiss along your jaw. You sighed, your mind halfway made up to just let him keep going like that. But no. 
“Uh-uh,” you said, pushing him gently off you. 
“What do you–? Oh.” 
You smiled as you slid off the bed, kneeling between his legs. You ran your hand up his thigh, deftly undoing his belt and fly. Heck, you’d had practice. “Can I?”
“Yes,” he nodded quickly. “God, yes.” 
You rolled your eyes, gesturing to his pants. “Well you gotta help me out a bit, yeah?” 
“Sorry,” he grinned, shedding them in one smooth motion.
“And those.” You pointed at his underwear. 
“Yes, your highness.” 
“Damn right,” you muttered as you kissed your way up his thigh, nipping gently at the skin of his hip. He smelled of the soap from last night’s motel room, faint but still there, a little sweat from the night’s earlier action. You could taste it where your tongue touched him, and man was it good.
His voice was breathy when he asked, “You gonna keep teasing me forever?” 
“Maybe.” You watched as goosebumps appeared where your breath tickled him, smiling to yourself. 
“Is that what’s got you smiling like that?” 
You sat back on your heels, arms resting on his knees as you looked up at him. He was so gorgeous, the shitty neon lighting of the room glancing off his hair in a kind of halo. You thought your next words through very carefully. 
“No,” you said slowly. “I’m thinking about how your cock’s gonna feel in my mouth. How you’re gonna say my name when I’ve got you so deep down my throat I’m almost gagging. I bet you won’t be able to keep your hands off me, I’ll make you feel so good.” 
Sam’s mouth fell open, his hands twitching where they rested on the duvet. 
“What do you think?” 
He swallowed. “I think I’m not even gonna take you up on that bet, I think you’re right.” 
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Ok then.” You smiled, leaning forward and taking his dick in your hands. It was hard and warm to the touch, already leaking precum. You licked down, then up again, swirling your tongue around the head. 
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Please, (Y/N).” 
“You want me to suck it?” 
“Yes. Please.” 
You shrugged. “Since you asked so nicely.” You sank your mouth down onto him, your hands working what wouldn’t fit. Sam’s thighs tensed, and you moved. You could have stayed like that forever, you thought, just holding him in your mouth. You had half a mind to ask about that, actually. 
Sam moaned, his fingers twisting in the covers as you pulled your head back, then forward again, sucking and licking along his length. You’d wanted to take your time at first, tease him and see how long it took for him to be fisting your hair and moving your head for you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 
“Oh my God,” he whispered as you increased your speed, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. His dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, something you might have been embarrassed about in the past. Now it turned you on. 
You moaned, the vibrations jolting Sam’s hips despite his best efforts. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. 
“(Y/N),” he panted. “Shit, (Y/N).” 
“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos – before you met him, that was – as his hand finally flew to your hair, his fingers carding through it. He was trying so hard to be gentle, and you loved him for it. 
“You look so hot like that,” he whispered. “How’re you so fucking hot?” 
You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You vividly remembered a conversation you’d had with Sam and Dean in the car once, where Dean had proclaimed that “there are blowjobs, and then there are blowjobs.” Sam had turned and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Dean had yelled at you both and told you to get a room. What you were doing right now was definitely a blowjob, and you were loving every second of it. 
“I’m gonna cum,” Sam was panting, “(Y/N) oh my God I’m gonna cum.” 
His fingers tightened in your hair, his head thrown back and his cock twitching in your mouth. You went all in, sucking and licking and jerking with everything you had in you. 
Yes, you thought as you swallowed everything he gave you, basking in his muttered curses and groans like they were water and you were a wilted houseplant. This was heaven, right here. Every time you watched him come undone, you were completely convinced it couldn’t get any better than this. And without fail, the next time it did. 
He was still panting as you licked him clean, as gently as you could. His hand had settled on your shoulder, large fingers caressing your skin so tenderly it made you want to cry. 
“You ok?” you asked, sitting back. You patted his knee, watching his face carefully. He was flushed, a light sheen of sweat sticking some of his hair to his forehead. You hadn’t really paid much attention at the time, but now you wished you’d made him take off his shirt too. You loved watching his chest heave as he tried to catch his breath. 
“Ok?” he echoed, opening his eyes. He grinned. “I’m more than ok.” 
You smiled back, licking your lips. “Good.” 
“Come up here,” he said, patting his leg. “And take off your pants.” 
“Magic word?”
“Please.” Then, on second thoughts, “pretty please.” 
You laughed, but got up and shed your jeans anyway. You slid onto his lap, straddling his thigh and wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you softly, holding you close against him. The material of his shirt tickled your skin, very noticeably baring you from the silken warmth of his skin. 
“Off,” you said against his lips, plucking at the garment. 
“Off,” he repeated, tracing the line of your underwear. 
Almost perfectly in sync, the two of you shed the offending clothing. 
“I love this,” he whispered as he reached behind you, deftly unfastening your bra and pulling it away from you. He set it aside carefully, almost reverently, then bent his head and fastened his mouth to your breast. “Hey,” he said after a moment, frowning. 
You frowned too. “What’s wrong?” 
His finger traced a delicate circle over your other breast, tapping at a spot just above your nipple. “What’s this?” 
You squinted at the area, then laughed. The faded yellowish bruise wasn’t all that visible, but of course Sam would find it. 
“What is it?” 
“It’s a hickey. From you. From last time.” 
His face cleared. “Shit, didn’t realise it’d last that long. Sorry.” 
“Don’t be,” you smiled. “Makes me think of you whenever I see it.” 
“Maybe I should give you more, then.” 
Your grin widened. “Please.”
“Mm?” 
You rolled your eyes. “Pretty please.” 
“Ok.” He bent once more, sucking a matching spot into your unmarked breast. Then he added another one beside it, and a third right in the middle of your sternum. 
“No more low cut tops, I guess,” you sighed, stifling a moan as he moved downwards with another. 
“Shame,” he murmured into your skin, “I love those low cut tops.” 
“Yeah, I know.” 
“I’d be insane not to.” 
You laughed, then gasped as he ran his hand up your thigh. 
“Relax,” he said. 
“I’m relaxed, I’m so relaxed.” 
“Your heartbeat says you’re lying.” 
“That’s for you,” you told him, meeting his eyes. “That’s what you do to me.” 
“And this?” His finger darted between your legs, sliding easily with how wet you were. 
“Yeah,” you gasped, “all for you.” 
He cursed softly, then lowered you gently onto the bed. He propped himself half over you, half beside you, his hand stroking down over your stomach, your hips, around your pelvis. 
“Please,” you moaned. “Sam, please.” 
“Please what?” 
“Touch me. Please,” you added as an afterthought. 
“Nice manners,” he noted, rubbing achingly slow circles over your clit. 
You gripped his arm, fingers digging into the muscle as he bent and resumed his assault on your breasts. 
“You take such good care of me,” he continued, his voice muffled slightly by your soft flesh. “You always take such good care of me.”
“Cause I love you,” you whispered. 
“Mhm, you gonna let me take care of you too?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “Of course.” 
“Good.”
You whined at the loss of his fingers on your clit, then bit your lip to quiet what would have been a loud moan as he slipped the finger inside you. The heel of his hand ground against your sensitive bundle of nerves, his finger putting just the right pressure in just the right places. You’d be a mess in no time, and you both knew it. 
“Fuck, Sam,” you panted, your back arching as you chased the feeling. 
“Hm?” His chest was warm where it pressed against your side, the muscles of his arm rippling subtly under the skin where your fingers dug into him. His free hand stroked your shoulder, his mouth busy littering your chest with hickeys. You could feel him growing hard again against your thigh. 
“Fuck me?” you half asked, half offered. 
He grunted softly at your words, nodding. “Got a condom?” 
“Mhm, yeah, sure. One sec.” You reached over to your jeans, rummaging in the pockets until you struck gold. Or foil, you supposed. You watched as Sam tore it open and slid it on, as easily as if he was tying shoelaces. He’d gotten stupidly fast at putting the things on, courtesy of the whole “Dean could get back any minute so let’s just be as fast as we can” element you so often found yourselves dealing with. You weren’t complaining. 
“Ready?” he asked, positioning himself between your legs. You rocked your hips gently, feeling his hardness pressed against your dripping centre. 
He nodded, then softly slid inside you. You both gasped at the feeling, the familiar stretch and the warmth of it. It was like he was made for you, the way he fit. 
“Fuck,” you whispered, your fingers twisting in the duvet. 
“Alright?” he asked, and you nodded. 
“Move,” you urged him. He did, slow and gentle. The light was doing that thing with his hair again, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it. Brush it off his forehead, kiss him there, smooth the faint worry line that seemed to be present more and more frequently. You’d do anything to make it disappear forever. 
“You feel so good,” he murmured, leaning forward to deliver more kisses to your chest. You were gonna have a whole forest of hickeys when you were done.  
“You feel good,” you replied. Your breath was coming short, a light sheen of sweat gathering over your skin even though you weren’t the one doing all the work. 
“Touch yourself,” he encouraged you, “I want you to cum while I’m fucking you.” 
“Shit, ok,” you replied, reaching down and running a finger in tiny circles over your clit. You loved how easily you could give and take control with him, how quickly and smoothly you could switch roles when you wanted to. It wasn’t just in bed, either, and you adored it. You adored him.
Your own hand combined with the steady thrusting of his dick was perfect. You weren’t going to last long, and judging by Sam’s shuddering breaths and muttered curses, your name sprinkled throughout, neither was he. 
“(Y/N), fuck,” he moaned, his abdominal muscles twitching and tensing. 
“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped as you felt the tightness coiling inside you, more, more, more– “Holy fuck, I’m gonna–” You released with a frantic cry of his name, your spine arching and your legs locking around his hips. You felt yourself contract around his dick, the stuttering of his strokes as he too reached his climax. 
He slowed eventually, coming to a stop as the tremors receded from your body and your brain returned to your head. You were spent, content to lie there with his warm, comforting weight on top of you until the world stopped turning. 
He rolled off you, peeling off the condom and tying it neatly before tossing it to the floor to be disposed of later. You turned to face him, your head resting on his bicep, his other arm draped over your side. His hand stroked your back, soft and loving. 
You smiled as you reached up, sweeping the hair from his face. “You good?” you murmured, cupping his cheek gently. 
He nodded, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You reciprocated, then stretched up and placed a kiss on his forehead. 
“How about you?” he asked. 
“I’m great.” Then you sighed, your thumb stroking tiny arcs across the curve of his cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered. 
“Look at you,” he answered. “You’re so beautiful.”  
You closed the few inches of space between you, pressing your lips to his. “I really do love you,” you said as you pulled away. “So much.” 
He smiled. “I know, I love you too. More than anything.” 
You went to kiss him again, but his phone buzzed and you froze. He groped for it blindly, frowning. You’d both learnt the hard way that if his phone went off and Dean wasn’t with you, it was best to check it. 
Sam snorted, flipping it around for you to see. 
The text, from Dean, was two sentences. “Back in 1/2 hour. Get decent.” 
“Screw you, Dean.” 
Sam laughed, tossing the phone to the side. “I guess we’ve got half an hour.” 
“I’m taking a shower then,” you said. “I saw a vending machine, like, right outside, and I really want a soda right now.” 
“I’ll get you a soda if you let me take the shower with you?” 
“Deal.” You held out your hand as if to shake on it, but he kissed it instead. Yeah, “gentleman” was definitely high up on that list. 
341 notes · View notes