#its like you have a book of recipes in your brain and its growing. and you get very good at improvising with what you have at home

[rustytrident]

mc's ultimate guide to visiting the devildom!!

a comprehensive guide to being an exchange student to the devildom by yours truly, mc.

ch: diavolo, barbatos, lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor

cw: none (relationships between the characters are meant to be platonic, though i could make a nsfw version of this)

a/n: this is a long ass post ‼️‼️ i tried to be as objective as possible but idk if any biases came through. i also literally thought of this while i was cleaning my bathroom so the idea may be shitty,,, get it?? cause i was,,, cleaning my bathroom,,,, , , the idea may be shitty,,,,,, ,,,, okay so the punchline is that since i was cle-

lifestyle:

wear gloves. for everything

trust your sense of smell. if something smells too good or too bad, get the fuck away from it

write your name on the hem of your clothes

always check if something can be consumed by humans. trust me, you'd rather go hungry for a little longer than grow a limb from your stomach

don't look people in the eye when walking past them. stare straight ahead, shoulders square

learn who you can lie to and who you can't. trust your gut with that, though most demons have tells you'll need to learn

keep track of your health and request check ups from human doctors

generally, don't be afraid to ask for anything. you deserve nice experiences, as well as, ,,, yknow,,,,, checkups

take pictures of everything

don't touch books unless a trusted demon tells you it's okay

don't lose touch with your culture. implement it everywhere, from your room to your food to your music. teach your housemates all you know about it

remember you are surrounded by demons. don't tease them, don't tempt them (unless you have a pact or a pretty decent relationship with them)

the royal family:

the devildom is currently under monarchy. you will only interact with the prince, diavolo, and his butler, barbatos.

diavolo knows. he always has, he always will. don't lie to him

don't be too friendly with him for the first four months

absolutely be friendly with him after those four initial months

between us, he needs friends. and beings who don't treat him like he's fragile.

he likes games of any kind. use that to your advantage

barbatos seems scary, and he is. but you can trust him

do go over for tea if he invites you. he has an affinity for cooking and baking (mostly baking – teach him any cool recipes you may know!), and likes to serve whatever he makes with a warm cup of tea

do not, under any circumstances, even so much as mention anything about rats to him. for interworld peace

diavolo will always come first for him. don't test or question their bond, our brains are probably incapable of perceiving its magnitude

the king is just. there. but like, not even there. currently asleep

the queen is dead (unfortunately, this phrase is not seen as something positive in the devildom. don't ever say it)

the brothers:

probably the ones you'll be living with. then again, maybe not. part of the student council, and diavolo's closest companions (you'll be seeing a hearing a lot from them).

lucifer is... nice. once you get to know him. give him some time

he's very sad, very overworked. kinda like a wet cat with a family to feed. stroke his ego about twice a week and you'll be good

don't put up with what he says if it makes you uncomfortable, and don't be afraid to speak up. if you need backup, go to satan and/or belphegor

he loves music. if you want to get to know him better, ask him if he would like to talk to you about his favourite songs (they're most likely from cursed records, so listening to them is not an option)

mammon will most likely steal from you. again, put your name on everything, take pictures of everything.

the friendliest of all of them, along with beelzebub, and one of the most loyal ones

loud and a tsundere. don't ask how that works. also, very funny (laugh at his jokes even if you don't like them)

he doesn't know what boundaries are. set yours early and don't follow along with his schemes if you don't like them. he's got puppy eyes, don't fall for them

leviathan is an introvert, and antisocial. don't pressure him to talk to you.

if you're dead set in getting closer to him, do it through asking what game he's playing, or what anime he's watching. his interests are the only way he will open up

he will talk a lot if he likes the subject. he also knows every meme out there, so you can be free to say anything

he's very insecure, and will sometimes guilt trip you without realising. stay firm in your beliefs and be honest with him (do not anger him unless you know how to swim)

satan being the avatar of wrath shouldn't scare you. just don't mention anything good about lucifer during the first few months of you being there, and you'll be good

he likes books, and has learnt to be very open with his affections through them. if he likes you, you will know

again, he likes books. want him to like you? ask for recommendations, plots, ideas, poems. he's got you covered

he also loves cats. like, a lot. so if you're not the biggest reader it's time to be the biggest petter

asmodeus is touchy, but he never crosses any boundaries once they're clear to him. if you don't like physical touch, make it clear to him

the first being you should go to if you want to have any sort of physical relationship with someone there. it could be awkward to just... ask, but he's not held back by any prejudice, and would love to help

pay attention to him when he speaks. he may seem like too much sometimes, but he will be even more if you don't look him in the eye and nod (at least).

tell him he's beautiful, cause he is. and also cause who would call aphrodite themselves ugly like??

beelzebub is chill, for the most part. just don't disrespect his family or eat his food.

he's the number one demon to go to when you're having issues and want to vent it out. doubles as someone you could hug after and get a pat on the head from, but only if he's comfortable.

always have a snack in your pocket for him, you'll never regret it (but don't make it a regular thing)

he will eat anything. that is both a warning and a piece of advice.

belphegor can have a sharp tongue, so if you're sensitive it's better to either be vocal about not liking certain things he says or not be around him all together

very knowledgeable about the human world, probably the most out of all the brothers. go to him if you feel homesick

also a scholar. no he won't do your homework for you. yes he will pass every class even though he's asleep in all of them. just don't pick him as your study buddy.

doesn't hide his feelings well – you can tell what he's thinking about just by looking at him

enjoy your stay, little sheep~

[sidesteppostinghours]

Oc ask! I'll try 9, 20 and a wildcard for your choice. For as many oc's as you like. 👀

evening!! thank you for the ask wonda <3

9. Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

Caine- no? i mean, maybe a plant, since thats alive, but what is there to empathize with? there arent any thoughts or feelings there. caine already struggles to empathize with people, non sentient things is Not happening.

Cyrus- no, of course not! who would do something that ridiculous???? (he would. mr "i have so much empathy i regularly fuck up manipulating people" would. of course whether he Cares is a different matter.)

Cecilia- ehhhh. she doesnt empathize with things, but she is protective of them and takes care of her things well. i think she could grow to empathize with things, but its not something on her mind if that makes sense?

Cynthia- oh absolutely. she has a certain soft spot for plushes and books, and shed love gardening if she ever gave it a shot.

20. What do they like that nobody else does?

Man ok uh. this is hard. what do other people not like???? i was honestly tempted to leave this at "villainy" but in the interest of properly answering the questions:

Caine- stretching the definition of like here but id say a lot of the food he cooks. contrary to popular belief, caine is actually a pretty decent cook, its just that most of said food is. um. inventive and efficient, lets say. ortega had to learn a very hard lesson to never let caine inside a kitchen without a recipe.

Cyrus- makeup. i dont thinkk this is something thats really come up before? he uses it to cover up his own freckles and scars but in terms of like. makeup to enhance features(???? is that the word????) he likes it as long as it isnt on himself. depending on what kind he gets dysphoric over it.

Cecilia- straight up? literally just pissing people the fuck off. theres no pleasure that could bring warmth to her heart quite like feeling that little annoyed spike in somebodys brain after something she said or did. she lives with joy knowing that she goes through life going "XD lol!!!!" and everybody wants to kill her with knives about it.

Cynthia- medical work. call it morbid curiosity, but shes really interested in biology and thats only partially because of its usefulness to herself (in terms of stitching herself back together). in the past, she would dump about it to ortega. nowadays, she has eve talk about it a lot with mortum.

questions from here!

[scabbardsystem]

Plural Asking 100 Questions: Part 10!

(last one! ready?) 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

91. If you collectively had to choose, would you pick to become a vampire or a werewolf? vampire, we like the aesthetic better lmao also please let us be immortal so we can sleep more without time mattering as much hkjgh

92. Your body is transferred into one of your Members sources, which do you pick and why? oh hm well we don't have a source, but i guess we could all be transferred into disco? that'd be challenging kjhgfg

93. If all of you turned into animals right this second, which animals would we find in your System? LMAO OKAY SO!! a fox first of all, a manta ray, probably several fish, and also probably several types of birds, a bunny, a butterfly, a spider, a snake, some cats, several deer and deer-adjacent creatures.

94. What would a Minecraft server with all of your Members look like? (example: chaotic, peaceful, laggy, ...)

CHAOTIC AS FUCK HKJHG but also the body gets extremely motion sick from playing minecraft too long so that would suck hjkgh

disregarding that, maybe we'd try to recreate our city in headspace? could be a fun project to work on together!! though we're really not good builders hkjhg

i think we'd all share items, any chest is fair game if you're not a bastard about it hkjhg but also we're all so extremely forgetful and disorganized. maestro would probably try to organize everything to no avail hkjhg

did you know we never had minecraft growing up, so we just read the minecraft wiki for kicks? <- this was probably expertise's doing kjhgf but we do know a lot of crafting recipes now hkjhg also did you know 23 blocks is the exact height you can survive a fall from? and slimes at their tiniest deal no damage to the player? and-

oh motherfucker we'd be doing anything for an elytra but NONE OF US ARE GOOD AT FIGHTING HOW ARE WE GETTING PAST THE ENDERDRAGON hjkghg at some point we'd just gamemode some in

ryan and juliet are absolutely fucking with noteblocks and/or making a parkour course. scott is taming every animal ever hkjhg theseus is sitting in a corner and writing novels in minecraft book and quills hkjgh and we would all build a safe little house for ceres <3

mom and lili would make a cute little garden together and oath would be vigilantly guarding them from hostile creatures. we'd probably put lili in creative mode, we are NOT LETTING HER DIE HKJGHG

i think faucet would find it peaceful, since it's just us!! <33 and distance will probably do that thing where distance travels very very far away in a straight line before coming back with a bunch of things distance picked up!

burden would probably pick up on anything we're lacking and build farms for it. or make transportation easier. or place more torches so its safer. or craft better armor for everyone. just, responsible minecraft things hkjhjh

95. If you could choose between only living in Headspace or only living in Meatspace (real life), which would you choose? well our headspace is hazy and vague, but if it was a solidified headspace, then we'd love to live in our headspace city!! but if it has to stay hazy and vague we would uhhh probably lose all sense of self in there hkgjhg it's like brain fog but In The Real, the fuckin pale is swallowing us hkjgh

for all the drawbacks real life has, we do have people here we love and want to stay for. headspace would be a nice escape, but we're determined to live out here for the people we love.

96. What topic would you collectively make a youtube channel about? (it can't be plurality!) we'd probably make an art channel? speedpaints and animatics and such! we've always loved cool art channels... ooh maybe song covers too? who knows :3

97. Which superpower would your body obtain, if you had to collectively decide on one? flight!! its a little lame compared to other powers out there, but we've always wanted to fly :]

98. Who would pick the coolest tattoo for the System and who would pick the worst? the coolest would be a toss up and/or collaboration between Songbird and Debonair, who would probably pick some sickass artsy thing. the worst would be Sharps who would just convince us not to get a tattoo because it would hurt and like. yeah shes right it sure would hgkjhg

99. If you only were allowed to eat one food for the rest of your life, but you would have to decide on the food collectively, what would it be and what would the decision making look like The decision making would involve Yearning bemoaning a lack of sweets and ultimately resolve in us choosing wonton soup, which is our favorite food and has enough vegetables for our daily nutritional intake. rip cotton candy tho 😔

100. What is the most fun about doing polls and answering questions, in your opinion? we like getting to explain ourselves. we are a constant conversation, and we like getting to share even a bit of our thought processes (if faucet lets us, of course.) if theres a poll or a question asked, we know the answer we're giving is warranted and wanted, in some way. we like knowing there's people willing to listen to us :']

for these questions specifically, we've also been trying to get to know ourselves better!! we're still new, still processing, still trying to understand how we work! like, these questions made us realize sharps is an age slider and helped us situate headspace a little more so!! hkjgh yippee!!

thank you for reading any of these if you did!! we love you!!

[open-hearth-rpg]

#RPGaDay2024

Great Character Gear

Relationship Status: Complicated

There’s been a conversation about certain high tier rpgs and their pride in having rules-dense books and yet ignoring a metric f-ton of them. Encumbrance, movement rates, exhaustion, morale, etc. Like loving the idea of detail but not wanting to actually deal with it in play. 

That’s kind of how I feel about gear in rpgs. I grew up in an era of play with massive equipment and gear sections and lists, with each weapon lovingly detailed in reach, recoil, speed, and hydrostatic shock modifier. The Tri-Tac games had details for each different kind of bullet. Wounds tracked moving through a person’s body, with a chance of clipping bone or cutting arteries. 

I loved reading that but no way I’m resolving that at the table. It was an era where Palladium could sell– and sell a lot– of books just with guns or other weapons in them. We ate it up. It wore me out. I think by the 1990’s I’d already started to kind of hate granular equipment lists. Blades in the Dark, with its gear-marking and load system turned that around for me a little. It’s varied, easy-to-use, and has a clear mechanical impact. Mind you it flattens a lot of detail. 

A digression: I love the Monster Hunter video game franchise. VG rpgs have the advantage of computer tracking of gear but even that can get onerous when you’re trying to upgrade and manage a big party roster (see Suikoden). But in MH you have a single protagonist who never changes. They don’t grow and evolve. Instead everything comes from equipment– you get better gear and it does a lot beyond just providing armor and damage. And eventually you get decorations to tweak effects. There’s part of my old-school gear-list infected brain that wants something like that. 

Then I wake up.  

But I love books of weird magic items– not necessarily powerful, but odd and interesting. Too often tomes of relics & loot fall into one of two traps. The first is a lore dump without payoff– not unlike the “old family story” you get at the start of online recipes. You make your way through that to find the 1000 year old ancestral item forged in the heart of a star is +2 and lets you project your voice at a distance. The second is highly class specific and/or rules dense details for an item. Like I love both 13th Age Books of Loot, but a chunk of the items there require a couple of index cards worth of notes for the player and GM.

I like tight, quick lists of weird fucking stuff. That’s why I adore all of the old Rolemaster Creatures & Treasures Books (volumes I to III). Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of dross in there. Items just giving +X to a skill or +Y to defense. But buried in there are about 10% gems. And given that most entries are short, you get a lot of them. Things I remember from our campaigns

...A nail that when hammered into wood created a bubble of silence

...An awkward bathysphere helmet

...A rope with a hook which could attach to sunlight beams

...A blade which could make change anything to a flavor chosen by the bearer (aka The Pudding Sword)

I may be getting some of those misremembered from something else, but who cares. There’s a lot of inspiration in the old C&T books. When people talk about the positives of the streamlining of OSR, it’s this kind of stuff I think about. An item which does a truly odd thing and you have to figure out an actual use for it.

[shekhawatlaw]

Top IPR Law Firms in India

You spent months writing an amazing novel, or you invented a great new gadget. intellectual property law, or IP, is like a set of rules that say you own your creations and ideas. Similarly to owning a bicycle or clothing, IP means you own whatever you come up with using your brain.

Why Do We Have Intellectual Property?

Encourages Innovation: IP makes people feel safe to create. They know that no one can just steal their ideas and make money from them. This means we get more inventions, better books, and cool new technologies.

Rewards Creators: Let's say you make a song that everyone loves. IP lets you earn money from it! That's fair since you put in the hard work.

Protects Businesses: Businesses use unique names, logos, and inventions to stand out. IP helps them stop others from copying these things, protecting their reputation and customers.

Know What are the Best Technology Law Firms in India

A Bit of History

The idea of owning your creations has been around for a long time. But really strong IP laws didn't appear until a few hundred years ago. This was when people started inventing lots of new machines and writing tons of new books.

Challenges of Creating IP Laws

Finding Balance: Laws need to protect creators, but they shouldn't make it too hard to share ideas or build on others' work. This balance is tricky!

Global Rules: Each country has its IP laws. Making these laws work together across the world is a constant challenge.

Privacy: Some people ignore IP laws and copy or sell things without permission. This hurts creators and businesses.

Also, read our related blog on what is Intellectual Property Law 

Why is IP Important in India?

India's Creative Powerhouse: India is bursting with talented artists, writers, and inventors. IP laws help them protect their work and get paid for it.

Attracting Investment: Companies from other countries want to do business in places with strong IP laws. They know their ideas will be safe in India.

Growing the Economy: IP fuels innovation, which creates jobs and helps the economy grow. It's a win-win!

Examples of Intellectual Property

IP is everywhere! Here are a few types:

Patents: Protect inventions like new medicines or tech gadgets.

Copyrights: Protect things like books, songs, movies, and paintings.

Trademarks: Protect logos, brand names, and slogans (think of the Nike swoosh!).

Trade Secrets: Secret recipes or business plans that companies want to safeguard.

Read Our Related Blogs on What is the Process of Patent Application in India

In a Nutshell

Top law firms in India involve protecting brilliant ideas that people come up with in their minds. Developing countries like India benefit from it because it rewards hard work and encourages new ideas.

Please let me know if you would like more information about a specific technology law firm area!

[cheapcourses]

What’s So Nice About Roam Analysis? Your Quick-Observe to Roam Mastery Roam is likely one of the strongest new applied sciences for artistic output, private information administration, and productiveness. However, like many highly effective instruments, there’s a steep studying curve. By yourself, it'd take months to totally harness its capabilities. That’s why 1000's of scholars have taken Effortless Output with Roam to skip the training curve, rapidly grasp Roam, and begin getting extra completed in much less time. “Roam in a Day” Recordings Each few months Nat hosts “Be taught Roam in a Day.” It’s a one-afternoon workshop on mastering Roam for individuals new to the software, or anybody who needs a refresher. When you purchase both course, you get entry to the total, damaged up, most up-to-date Roam in a Day workshop, with 4 hours of instruction, examples, Q&A, and workouts! Half 1: Mastering the Fundamentals Roam is much from intuitive and is stuffed with hidden options. We’ll discover the core options one after the other to be sure you know how you can use it to its fullest as we construct your database. Half 2: Selecting Your Capstone It is a course about creating one thing new, not simply how you can use Roam. Collectively we’ll decide an space you’re in to discover as you develop your expertise with Roam, and a closing product you wish to create along with your newfound skills. Half 3: Constructing Your Database Roam is a information administration software, so after getting the fundamentals down we’ll decide a challenge to start out organizing our information on. We’ll cowl recording concepts, getting notes from books and articles, embedding movies and PDFs, and far more to be sure you know the place to place each new piece of data you come throughout. Half 4: Organizing Your Database As you add extra information to your Roam database, you'll want to discover ways to manage it and seamlessly navigate your digital mind. We’ll cowl utilizing web page hyperlinks, tags, filters, search queries, embeds, and extra to be sure you can simply discover the whole lot you’ve ever discovered or labored on. Half 5: Managing Your Tasks Learn to effortlessly mix your information and your job administration in one place, so you possibly can keep on high of the whole lot you’re utilizing your database to perform. We’ll cowl Roam’s ToDo features, managing tasks, setting objectives, and making a every day and weekly dashboard for productiveness. Half 6: Creating New Works Now that your database is rising, we’ll cowl how you can use your notes to provide new works. Whether or not you wish to publish an article, report a brand new YouTube sequence, or launch a enterprise, Roam may also help get you there. Appendix 1: Superior Options Roam is stuffed with extra superior options that may improve how you utilize the software. We’ll cowl advanced queries, charts, diagrams, kanban boards, encryption, and the whole lot else Roam has to supply. Appendix 2: Bonus Use Circumstances There are tons of use circumstances Roam is nice for. We’ll cowl how you can use it for: sustaining a private CRM, managing your recipes, conserving a every day journal, taking sensible notes, monitoring your determination making, and extra. Appendix 3: Free Templates Get a set of templates to assist speed up your Roam utilization, together with a Each day Dashboard, Weekly Plan, Morning Pages Prompts, Undertaking Tracker, Behavior Tracker, Editorial Board, and extra.

[xlbrh]

Genshin Impact - Small things they do to show their love

notes : so i’ve been trying to think of an idea for a long story to write for one of the characters, but i’ve been having a little bit of trouble :( if anyone has any suggestions i’d love to hear them! hopefully i’ll be able to come out with an introduction or something soon 

in the meantime i wrote this up, so i hope that you guys enjoy!

Genshin Masterlist

warnings : none

format : bulleted, headcanons. fluff

pairings : diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, xiao, albedo, aether x gn! reader

word count : 1426

everything under the cut-

Diluc:

during your nightly walks around mondstadt, he notices how chills can rack your body, especially when the wind blows

he’ll remove his jacket and drape it around your form, no matter how much you may protest

sometimes his arms will circle around your waist, drawing you towards him in an effort toto keep you warm until you get home

if you’ve been out adventuring close to the dawn winery, he’d invite you to the manor to share a meal or drink, whichever you’d like

whatever you desire, he’ll see to it that you receive it – most of the time he wouldn’t even ask you due to how well he can read you and your actions

when you try to refuse his offers, he’ll tell you ‘just let me look after you, my love’  

when you come to visit him in the angel’s share, he always has a seat ready just for you

he’ll keep a blanket and some books under the bar, since he knows how you like to curl up in the corner, engrossed in your reading

if you’d like he’ll come and sit with you for a short while, bringing a drink of your choice over while you tell each other about your day

Kaeya:

kaeya is the kind of man to call you every pet name under the sun

whether it be sweetheart, darling, love etc. he loves to use these types of names for you frequently, as a form of affection

he loves your reactions to them, especially when your cheeks flare up and you turn away out of shyness – he finds it extremely endearing

he would offer to train you in swordsmanship, regardless of whether you can already wield a sword or not

he likes to not only see your strength grow, but also offer you a way to protect yourself since he cannot be with you at all times

kaeya takes pride in the training sessions you have, after all they give him another reason to spend even more time with you

he loves for you guys to have matching things, no matter how small they may be 

for example, he’ll buy you a bracelet to wear, one that matches with one on his own wrist as well

jokingly he once bought you an eyepatch to match his, but he finds it sweet but hilarious when you’ll wear it around him sometimes

Childe:

since this man is a literal walking wallet, he has no problem with spoiling you with gifts

whether that be a necklace you’ve had your eye on, a new shirt because you ripped yours in battle, or a book he knows is the next in the series you enjoy

when asking him why he leaves you so many small gifts, his response is just ‘well, because i love you, of course!’

if you ever get hurt during a battle, he’ll be the first to help you

whether that be taking down the enemies if you haven’t already, or tending to the wounds you’ve received

he’d work with utmost caution, wrapping each wound gently and finishing them off with a kiss on top

when strolling the streets of liyue together, childe ensures that your body is connected to his one way or another at all times

whether that be intertwining your hands together, an arm loosely wrapped around your waist, or stopping to give you a brief peck on the forehead

he has no qualms in showing the public that you’re his – something he makes you well aware of

Zhongli:

he knows you love when he tells you stories of his past and the history of liyue, and he enjoys telling you about them

he finds the childlike wonder in your eyes adorable as he tells you tales of adepti and archons alike

zhongli will try his best to make them as entertaining as possible for you – drawing you in with every word he uttered

he likes to play with your hair, and for you to do the same to him

if you have longer hair you can guarantee he’d be braiding and styling your hair in all different ways, adorning it with hairpins he’d purchase for you

if your hair is on the shorter side then he’d love to run his fingers through, stroking your hair and massaging your scalp until you fall asleep with your head against his chest

if there is anything in particular that you take a big interest in, zhongli will try his best to research around it – even though he probably has the knowledge anyways

he wants to be able to talk to you about things you’re interested in, as well as share in the enjoyment that you get from it

he would leave small notes to you when he can’t always be around you, sometimes with small facts he learned of

Xiao:

he would for sure watch over you if you ever go on a long adventure, no matter what other duties he may have to attend to

expect to see a good few hilichurl and treasure hoarder camps abandoned thanks to his interference

‘anything to ensure your safety’, he thinks

some nights, when his duties have been fulfilled early, he’ll try his hand at preparing a meal for you to share

of course nothing especially fancy! After all he doesn’t have to eat himself – its all for your enjoyment

if he struggles he’d probably reach out to verr goldet some help

just imagine him setting a small picnic up on the wangshu inn rooftop iM WEAK

once xiao finally becomes accustomed to physical contact, he’d make an effort to hold your hand a lot more often

lightly squeezing it or tracing shapes with his thumb every now and again

if you’re lucky he way even take his gloves off – just to feel that warmth from his hand can be very comforting indeed

Albedo:

you’re literally the only person he will listen to when he is engrossed in his experiments

as we know he tends to block out the rest of the world when he is deep in though

but as soon as he hears your voice of concern asking if he’ll take a break to eat, you wanna bet he’ll be leaving his office in an instant to join you for lunch

he does the exact same for you when you’re hard at work, so he appreciates the way you always look after him

when out looking for more specimens to analyse, he stumbles across his fair share of flowers

of course he knows which are your favourites – he knows everything about you, after all – so he’ll be sure to pick some to bring home to you

when giving them to you, he mentions ‘well, they reminded me of you, so i thought you’d like them’

if you ever get ill for some reason, albedo becomes your personal doctor

he’ll spend hours preparing serums and medicines for you to alleviate your pain – but will never let you out of his sight while doing so

he’ll ask noelle if she can fix up some food for you in the meantime, since at every free opportunity he’s sat at your bedside, hand in yours as he whispers words of comfort to you

Aether:

aether is always ready to make you something to eat whenever you’d like!

he for sure has a small section of his brain dedicated to learning of recipes that he knows you enjoy, no matter how simple or complicated they may be

will make sure that you always have some lunch ready to take with you wherever you go, even if it means he had to wake up early and travel halfway across teyvat to bring it to you

he will bring you back numerous treasures from his travels

sometimes he’ll ask the locals in whichever area he’s in if they can craft the raw materials into something that you can treasure

there would be a shelf in your room specifically for aether’s gifts, where he’ll occasionally point to each one and tell you the story of how it made it’s way back to you

he makes sure to let you know how grateful he is to have you by his side

every time you do something for him, no matter how small it may be, he’ll thank you and let you know how much you mean to him

when on his travels he makes sure to write letters and send them home to you – just because he’s far away doesn’t mean he’s not still thinking about you

[pinespittinink]

Do you have tips or insight on waving food through a story or even writing a story centered around food ?

I’ve been sitting on this ask for a day because it got my brain going immediately and I knew I didn’t want to write up any quick answer, so bear with me while I launch a tedtalk about writing food within a story! This will have a fantasy focus because that’s my home genre, but I think a lot of what I’ll say can be applicable across genres.

To address your point initially, I think that you can never fail by returning to the roots of food in fiction that you like, if applicable. For me, a lot of this roots into my childhood reading-- the banquets and simple food of Redwall, and to a lesser extent, Swordbird, really did something for me. The Pixie Hollow books all have lovely food for the fairies of Neverland, particularly Dulcie’s Taste of Magic, about an overworked baking-talent fairy. Harry Potter (for all its faults, and may the author disappear from the face of the earth) also has excellent descriptions of food-- feasts and sweets especially-- that are wound into the story, and I think given particular attention due to Harry growing up in an environment where his diet was so restricted as a child due to his abusive upbringing. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and by extension, much of Roald Dhal, has food in very prominent places, with the Chocolate Factory being his greatest centerpiece. A Series of Unfortunate Events has Sunny Baudelaire making at least one dish per book, with growing attention as the books progress. The Hobbit has an early focus on food when the dwarves come into Bilbo’s home, all requesting cheeses and meats and drinks. Even non-fantasy books such as My Side of the Mountain and Island of the Blue Dolphins have notable focuses on food, though through a hunter-gatherer-forager lens. 

Bear in mind, these are all books that were a part of my childhood, and my experience is in no way universal-- but, all of these books do involve food in their stories, either as a plot device or to enrich the setting and characters through their interactions with their meals. Everything on a Waffle by Polly Horvath is full of recipes within the pages, as the main character maneuvers her new life while maintaining the belief that her parents are alive despite everyone in town thinking they died at sea in a storm. Food is a coping mechanism for her, something to fill her life, and it appears throughout the plot. Poison Study by Maria V. Snyder is about the new food taster for the Commander, and Yelena is taught how to recognize poisons within food and drink by taste-- that book has delicious, sensory descriptions of food. You can use it all as inspiration and brain fodder (hah).

I personally don’t think I put enough food writing in my work despite how much I love it, but I have unending appreciation and inspiration for and from food in fiction, both on page and on screen. Both Bryan’s Fuller’s shows, Pushing Daisies and Hannibal, have incredible attention on food (also on death, which is another essay entirely). Pushing Daisies is about a piemaker, and there is whimsy in every note. Hannibal is about a cannibal being hunted by the FBI, but he makes such opulent meals that you cannot help but be drawn into the vision-- roses made out of artfully peeled tomatoes, homemade chicken soup with star anise, a meatless salad with specific vegetables arranged to mimic macabre anatomy-- Hannibal had a food stylist for all the presentation of these meals, to make them art. 

Basically, food can be a tremendous part of plot and story. I can’t speak to writing a story that revolves around food (see: Dulcie’s Taste of Magic), but you could write about a magical baker, a food competition, vineyards at odds, a chef who’s lost their muse, characters bonding with the help of food and shared meals, etc. There really is an ocean of potential. 

Characters can be tied tremendously to food. One character may eat a lot of sweet things and delicacies, another may be on the hunt for a vital ingredient they need to survive (this works really well in wilderness books), another character may be tracing back through generations of family through recipes. Food can be a comfort, a pillar of stability, a source of intense memory (smell is a big memory jogger). 

Perhaps your characters are going on a journey-- what do they pack? Bread, hard cheese, dried fruit, jerky, nuts? Nonperishables? Do they fish or hunt for fresh meat along the way, or forage as they go, munching on berries as they wander. Perhaps your character is attending a fancy ball or masquerade-- guests may be drinking wine or champagne, eating little canapes, chocolate dipped strawberries, dragonflies made of spun sugar, pretty little cakes and bonbons or macrons. Perhaps your character is traversing through a street market or fair-- do they smell fresh bread or muffins? Are there skewers roasting, nuts being cooked, sticky candy to be sold, ale or cider available? How does the fare change depending upon the people present and the setting itself?

You can pull a reader in by writing about food. Detailing a spice in the air, the scent of something baking, the swirl of frosting on an opulent cake, meat being torn between teeth, lobsters being cracked, squashes and pumpkins being rolled and gathered. Food can be a tremendous ally in setting your scenes and building a lush environment for your characters and plot to stand out against and interact with. 

You can adapt this to your writing style as you see fit. Some people dislike lots of long description, others adore it. You can go off as much as you like, just as you can also just drop lines here and there about your character snacking on some grapes or a roll, or grabbing some water after a sparring session and maybe wishing they had something stronger. You can also involve food in your worldbuilding in a menagerie of ways. Your character is attending a festival-- what kind of food or drink is served only at this time of year for this special occasion (Chinese mooncakes, the Mid-Autumn Festival). Your character is of a certain ethnic or religious culture that has staple foods associated with it, or avoids certain foods entirely (Muslims and Jews will not eat pork (most of the time)). You can take inspiration from the real world for these sort of elements, though I advise against copying an entire culture, so to speak. 

Physical setting and food can also be woven together, and should be especially when it is a place of civilization. A fishing village will have different meals than a prairie settlement. A race that lives underground will rely on different manners of sustenance than a race that lives on the surface. Utopian societies may have food available freely for everyone. Dystopian and post-apocalyptic societies may have food production under strict protection (people get shot when they get too near the vegetation beds in the podcast The Earth Collective-- I highly recommend listening). There’s so much you can explain about your societies and people and their interactions with each other and the world through food.

I feel like this is getting away from me now, but I hope this has been helpful somewhat. I could go on even more about food and its relation to nature writing, but maybe another time. 

[jadegreenimmortality]

Bungou Stray Dogs Men as Househusbands pt.1 - Sakunosuke Oda

A/N: I’m sorry that this isn‘t a request, but this brain rot has been going on since forever and now I can’t resist it anymore. I totally blame @hanazou for this. There will also be a part two featuring Chuuya, but his part has a completely different feeling to it, that's why I'll post these separately. Besides of that, this is basically an “Way of the Househusband!AU”. Go watch the show or read the manga if you don’t know it, it’s absolutely hilarious! This is mainly focused on them as househusbands, but since you are their spouse, there’s also a bit of reader insert. Also, a lot of Oda as a dad to his orphans. And the whole thing is feat. Dazai. (^^)

Pairings: Oda x gn!reader

Genre: Crack, domestic fluff

Warnings: none

Summary: You, Oda and the orphans move in together. While you become the working spouse, your loving husband stays at home and becomes a full-time househusband.

pt. 2

First things first - If you agree to marrying Sakunosuke Oda, you are also agreeing to become the parent of five children. Oda loves you and you are one of two main reasons he’s leaving the Mafia, the other being his life purpose. But if he’s leaving the Mafia, he’s keeping those kids in (if they want him to of course, but you can’t tell me they don’t, come on -)

So yeah, be ready.

He only cooks spicy curry at the beginning. The curry shop owner gave him the exact recipe of his favourite plate as a goodbye gift and that’s the only thing he is cooking for days on end. He has some basic cooking skills, but this is the only really elaborated dish he knows how to prepare as of now, so be ready to suffer from the spice. It will go on like that until all six of you you and the kids hold an intervention for him. The kids will paint nice banners like they were going to a demonstration saying "No more curry" that they hang up in the living room and he’ll be greeted by your sorrowful face when he comes back from buying groceries.

“What’s this?” – “Oh honey, I’m so sorry, its just…” – “WE CAN’T TAKE THE SPICE ANYMORE STOP COOKING CURRY ALREADY!” – “…I mean…yeah.”

Of course, he’ll be a bit embarrassed and disappointed. May scratch his neck and look to the side thoughtfully. But he’ll take your plead seriously.

This is also how you bond with the kids for the first time. Congratulations, huddling up against someone is always the best way to bond!

He works hard on his cooking skills after that and becomes quite the formidable cook. He takes suggestions from you and the kids and will try to learn how to cook anything you might fancy to eat. It’s really important to him that all of you are happy and cooking may be the most important job of a house spouse, so he takes it very seriously.

There will be curry Tuesday though. One day of spice hell. Enjoy.

Please picture Oda in his usual attire, wearing a beige “kiss the cook” apron over it and bunny slippers. You’re welcome.

He'll learn how to make anime and cartoon-themed bentos for the kids, so it's highly probable you'll get cutely designed bentos as well. Again, you may drop suggestions, he’ll absolutely take them into considerations. Octopus sausages, bunny apple slices, cute bear faces made out of rice, he’ll learn to do them all. He isn’t too sappy of a person, but if he’s feeling romantic while cooking, your rice could also have the shape of a heart. Either way, your co-workers will be very envious of your food and your husband.

Oda iss the master of negotiation at the food market. He’ll be completely stoic all the time, not aggressive or dismissive at all, but he’ll point out little flaws of the products in a way that most shop owner’s won’t be able to deny and that’s how he gets discounts. He doesn’t want to cheat anyone out of their money, but he does have seven mouths to feed.

He may not look like it, but if any of the kids tag along for his grocery shopping, it's really hard for him to deny them something if they beg for it. He may seem unnervingly calm all the time, but he’s a big softie, especially for those kids and for you, and if they hang at his sleeves long enough, they’ll get that ice-cream they want so badly. That doesn’t work on pricier items though, he can be a strict parent when really needed.

Oda is great at handling the finances. He’s well aware that he has to be thrifty with five kids. Still, there is one thing where he struggles to keep his control: books.

If you agree to it, the apartment will have an absolutely minimalistic interior, but! In your living room, there will be a shelf full of books, so big it covers a whole wall. That’s it, that’s Oda’s only weak spot when spending money.

It’s not only books for him though. He buys books for you when he sees something from your favourite author or genre. He buys books for the kids so they learn the joy of literature. Poems, bed time stories he wants them to grow up appreciating the possibilities of the written word.

You can bet that he’ll read them bed time stories. Only one book for all five of them though, so one kid gets to choose a story each day.

He’ll read to you as well if you want him to. His voice is incredibly calm and soothing, he’s a really good reader. There’s a high probability you’ll fall asleep while he reads to you. You can cuddle up in bed and rest your head on his shoulder or sit on his lap and hide your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the vibration of his voice in his chest.

Whenever he has some time to spare, he’ll retire to your shared bedroom to write. Mind you, that won’t happen often. It happens mainly on weekends, when the kids are with friends and/or you are at home. If you want to do him a favour, consider cooking on the weekends, he’ll be more than thankful for the opportunity to submerge in his beloved writing. But don’t worry, it won’t consume him – he’ll always put some time aside to spent with you, without the kids, as well ¬‿¬.

He's so polite with the neighbours. Will pay all his neighbours a short visit together with the kids to introduce himself and bring little gifts. Just imagine him standing there in the door frame, witih all five kids around his legs, smiling at their new neighbours angelically - what's not to love?

He really wants to maintain a good relationship to all of them. Basically, he’s the perfect neighbour – always polite, always up to a little chat, always ready to listen to neighbour A complain over neighbour B without snitching. He’s mainly concerned for the wellbeing the kids though. He wants them to feel part of the community and often arranges play dates with the neighbour kids. If it's possible at the neighbour’s house because five kids are a lot to handle already…and when they are all out of the apartment, it’s cleaning time.

Oda is an angel of patience and the ultimate multitasker. He isn’t left with much of a choice with five kids, but thankfully, calm lies in his nature. You may see him explaining Sakura her math homework while cutting vegetables for today’s lunch. Then, he’ll take a quick glance out of the window to see if they boys are still playing on the street where he can see them and then he’ll check on Sakura again. Isn’t he lovely?

His ability is unexpectedly helpful for all of this. If he’s in the living room to clean, his ability will alarm him if the food’s about to burn. If he’s around the kids, he’ll know in time if one is about to trip. If you come home from work so tired you fall asleep face first in your soup, he’ll be able to catch you. So useful.

He’s a very attentive and loving husband. His love is mainly expressed by keeping the house as clean as he can and putting a lot of effort into cooking. Your work is hard enough, he takes it upon himself to manage everything else. He’ll also try to have the kids well-behaved so they don’t demand too much from you after you come home from work. Though if you decide to pull yourself together and give them attention and love even when tired, he’ll be more than thankful. He knows it’s a lot to ask to be a parent, especially to not one, but FIVE kids that are not yours by blood. So if you actively seek to have a close bond to them, it will make him so incredibly happy because he knows it’s not the natural course of action for everyone.

Will give you head, shoulder and foot massages after an especially excruciating day of work. His hands are skillful and he knows where to touch to make you moan to release the tension from your muscles.

Likes to lie his head in your lap after both of you had a long day of work. Yes, you may be the provider, but keeping a house clean and five kids under control isn’t an easy job either! So, he’ll seek peace laying his head on your thighs and closing his eyes while you tussle his hair and tell him about your day. Don’t expect more than a mumbled “Mm” or “I see” from time to time, but be sure that he’s listening.

And the Port Mafia? You’re in luck - since he was the lowest-ranking member, The Mafia, by which I mean Mori isn’t bothered that he left. He refused to kill anyways, he’s to no use to them him.

Of course, Oda will try to be absolutely sure there is no hidden reason for Mori to hinder his leave beforehand, or to resent him for it. The last thing he wants is to endanger you or the kids by leaving his job as a criminal.

If he ever meets a member of the PM in public, he'll act as if he doesn't know them. He may give them a polite nod if they make eye contact, but that’s about it. It’s not that he resents them, but he really wants to start a new life here that isn’t connected to killing and cruelty at all. If they approach him he'll be very polite, but try to keep the conversation short, even if they seem to have no ulterior motive.

Of course, there’s one member of the Port Mafia that marks the exception, by which I mean to say that you’ll have Osamu Dazai over for tea regularly. No, he won’t announce himself at all. The first time he appears at your apartment, you’re just finishing to unpack. He’ll tand at your doorstep all of a sudden to tell Oda that Mori already knows where he moved to. Oda will just nod as an acknowledgement. He expected as much. And then he’ll give you a questioning look. If you nod, he’ll officially asking his friend to stay for dinner. You’ll be having curry.

From then on, he’ll just drop by whenever. You may come back home from time to time to find dinner ready, the kids in bed and your husband and Dazai drinking. If you join them, you will have some truly joyful evenings spend together. You’re Oda’s chosen one, so Dazai is a bit more inclined to let you get close than he is with others. You may make a new friend in the process.

It doesn’t take a lot of time for the kids to start calling him Uncle Dazai. He’ll actually be Uncle Dazai before they ever call Oda Dad or you Mom/Dad. It will take them mere weeks to call him uncle, but months, maybe years to call the two of you Dad/Mom. It will happen eventually though, and the day it happens, I assure you that you will see Oda spill tears of happiness. He’ll be looking away, wiping his face with one hand and smiling. He never thought he would want this, but now he knows he does.

Back to Dazai! He’s reserved with the kids at first. As we know, he doesn’t feel all to comfortable around “childish behaviour”. But kids are like cats, the feel drawn to the one that’s most cautious. By which I mean to say that they are all over him. Literally. Oda will leave for five minutes and when he’s back at the living room the kids will have tackled a slightly unnerved Dazai on the floor. Sakura wants him to see the drawings she made, Katsumi, Kousuke and Yuu want to play, Shinji wants to ask him what's under his bandages. He’ll have no choice but to oblige and it goes surprisingly well. Oda may abuse him as a baby-sitter when he visits from then on.

Then suddenly, Dazai stops visiting altogether. You are worried, but Oda, for some reason, isn’t. Even more, whenever you ask him about it, you may catch him smiling to himself in a satisfied, proud way. No, Dazai didn’t tell him anything. If Oda would know, it would endanger all of you. But he knows. He knows that Dazai finally made his choice to leave the Port Mafia and needs to lay low now. And that’s okay.

It takes Dazai two years to come back, which will be just as sudden as him leaving. You’ll be astounded to see him a changed man at first sight. Oda will scold him for not sending any notice and then everything is normal again. And after some more years, he’ll start bringing along a scrawny kid with white hair.

A/N: Wow, this is the first post I put a "keep reading" link in because it's so long! That's kind of a milestone for me. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading!

[beyondspaceandstars]

Pastries & Memories

Relationship: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Innocent!Reader Warnings: manipulation, mentions of stalking, gaslighting, mentions of kidnap and harm Summary: The smell of pastries brings back triggers the unsettling memory of how you actually met Bucky. But when you confront him, there's no telling what's right anymore. A/N: i’ve been really into dark fics lately and naturally wanted to give it a shot! this certainly isn’t the wildest, darkest piece out there but this is me just dipping my toes in the water. i hope it’s still enjoyable!

Masterlist

He had taken you in. Comforted you. Welcomed you. Loved you. Saved you. Protected you.

At least — that was how your brain fuzzily pieced it together. How you actually ended up living in this apartment was a bit beyond your reach mentally. You could remember the outdoors, walking somewhere… then… then you were off. Bucky, you thought, told a different story.

But none of it actually mattered, really. In reality, you felt like you had always been with him. You two had finally connected one day and the rest had become history. He was all you needed. A lover, a protector, a rock.

You reeled in your wandering mind as you stood at the kitchen counter cutting up some strawberries. There was a little farmers market that had set up in the city last week and after a little persuasion, Bucky allowed you to check it out. He gave you some cash and you had chosen the most lovely looking strawberries. You felt a bit proud of yourself for venturing out of the apartment completely unaware that he was tailing you closely as you went, always on the lookout for his best girl.

When you had gotten back to the apartment that afternoon, he had pestered you about what you were going to make with the berries. You had giggled and pushed him away, commenting on how he hovered around like an anxious puppy. You hadn’t seen the stiff stance he took as darkness flashed in his eyes.

Truthfully, you hadn’t really decided what you were going to make with them at the time. Indecisive, you asked Bucky to look for some strawberry recipes online. Your internet access was greatly limited by your protective boyfriend but you didn’t really mind. Whatever was out there nowadays couldn’t have been more important than your love — well, except for strawberry treats, you realized.

Bucky obliged and hunted around for some baking blogs for you to browse. Eventually, you had settled on a fresh strawberry pie. The filling didn’t call for a jam like the others did, instead choosing to highlight the lusciousness of the fresh fruit. That sounded perfect for these lovely berries.

So, there you stood, dicing them carefully as you waited for the pie crust to get done with its par-bake. Bucky had collected the items for you from the store earlier that week but you wouldn’t give him a clue as to what you were baking. He had seemed pretty upset with that, almost threatening to not pick up the items, but then you explained you wanted to surprise him. He worked hard, you said, and he deserved to come home to some fresh baked goods.

Although, you maybe should’ve told him when you were going to make it.

As you were just finishing up with the strawberries, Bucky walked through the apartment door, giving a resounding "hello" to you. You greeted him back.

Bucky placed a large kiss on your cheek and proceeded to place a paper bag on the counter next to you. The outside of it had a logo for the bakery you thought you had read about just a few streets over. You frowned at the sight. Why…

"Oh, gosh," Bucky sighed as he looked around at the hectic kitchen. "I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t realize you were making your strawberry thing today. I wouldn’t have stopped at the bakery."

Your eyes shot from the bag to your boyfriend. "T-That’s fine, honey. I should’ve told you."

"Well, I guess you can never have too many sweets, right?" He asked with a light chuckle. You smiled in return, your mind still taking in that bakery bag. Bucky walked over to it now and opened it, letting the fresh smell of pastries hit your nose. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

You knew that smell — how did you know that smell? You gave an odd sniff, taking in the scent of baked dough and custardy filling. You knew that. A cheese danish. How did you know that?

Tears began forming in your eyes but you weren't exactly sure why — hell, you weren’t sure of anything right now. Where had this overwhelming sensation appeared from? The danish? Were you just hungry? Your hands were shaking. You saw the bakery flash in your mind. You had walked past it before — why would you have done that? Bucky never let you go that way citing the city safety. But you had once.

You were walking past the bakery, suddenly craving a pastry. But you didn’t stop for one. No — it was early morning and you were late. Late for what? You didn’t work. Except that maybe you had.

Bucky came into frame now. His smile was wide but his eyes were dead. He said some words — you couldn’t make them out — and you tried stepping around him. He didn’t like that. Of course not. Bucky was a stickler when it came to listening to him, to say the least. But you knew that was always for the best so why did you disobey him that time? He grabbed your arm in the memory. And then there was a pain in your neck. You were under now. Into the darkness.

You gasped as the memories suddenly dissolved. A hand was gripping your arm once more. But this time was very real and it was from a very, very concerned Bucky.

"Doll?" He asked, his eyes growing with worry and…anger? "What’s wrong?"

You couldn’t blink the tears away fast enough. What was that? Your mind was swimming as you tried finding some words to answer Bucky.

"N-Nothing."

"Nothing?" He frowned. "You’re crying."

A ding came from the oven. You mumbled a silent thank you and quickly went to tend to your pie crust. You pulled it out and placed it on the cooling rack before turning back to your strawberry filling. According to this recipe it needed a few more items…

"Sweetheart," Bucky’s voice boomed through the apartment. You jumped, nearly forgetting he was standing right over you. Your obliviousness far from an accident. "What’s going on?"

You eyed the bakery bag. Bucky had now taken the pastries out and placed them on a platter. Cheese danishes confirmed. You gulped.

"Could you… Could you tell me about the day we met, again?" You asked the question slowly, carefully, as that bakery logo flooded your mind. It was abruptly disrupted by Bucky plunging something into your neck. You shook your head and turned back to the filling, adding what was instructed.

Your question wasn’t really a weird one. You enjoyed hearing the story of how you two met as your memory was not really the best these days. You never did find out why…

"We met at a coffee shop," Bucky explained. You could tell he was suspicious but he amused you nonetheless. "I had seen you a few times in there before and, thankfully, one day I got the courage to speak to you. I asked you what book you were reading and you told me about it. We talked until closing time. I couldn’t get you out of my mind from that point on."

You nodded, letting the familiar story wash over you. This time, though, it felt so foreign. Like it was a fairytale. Too perfect. Too natural. You looked at the pastries, halting all progress on the pie.

"Well, then," you said, "I guess I just had the weirdest thoughts."

Bucky took a step closer to you. His front was nearly fully pressed into your back. "What kind of thoughts?"

You shook your head. "It’s silly-,"

His hand gripped your arm tightly. "Tell me."

You wanted to turn away. Wanted somehow to get out of this position. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. You were supposed to surprise him with a nice pie once he got home. He’d shower you with love and thank you’s before you turned your attention to dinner. While you made dinner, he’d watch some sports game on the television. You two would then eat like a nice couple and Bucky would compliment you profusely. That was how it all should’ve gone. That was how the good days went.

You wanted today to be a good day. But it was turning into a bad one real fast despite how much you really didn’t want to go down that path. Bad days were few and far between now but you remembered them in bits and pieces from the beginning of your relationship. They were just glimpses but, boy were they strong. You had forgotten things a lot or took long to understand something and Bucky had little patience for it back then. There was the pushing, the yelling, the degrading… No, no. You couldn’t turn down there but you couldn’t lie—

"I saw myself walking," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "It was a nice morning it seemed and I had walked past that bakery." You pointed to the bag. Bucky stiffened. "I thought I wanted a pastry but I was…late? I don’t remember the details and then you were suddenly there. You said something and eventually took me by the arm. Then there was a pain in my neck. It all went black."

There. The words were out. You explained it and now all you could do was pray and pray and pray that nothing bad came from this. You couldn’t stop your thoughts, really. Something happened there. That damn bakery, you guessed.

"Doll," Bucky tsked. He didn’t sound too angry just…dismissive. "Maybe you should go lay down. You’re not thinking right."

Your jaw went slack as you turned around. Bucky’s hand left your arm but you were now pressed against the counter, his body practically toppling over yours. Still, you looked up at him, in a bit of shock. He looked pretty calm — not at all mad, thankfully — as he stared down at you in worry.

"I— I think I know what I saw, Bucky," you insisted. He shook his head.

"You know your memory isn’t very good, honey," he said. "I think maybe you’ve been reading too many of those thriller novels. Might be mixing up fiction and reality." He motioned towards the bookshelf in the apartment holding your favorite books. Your brows furrowed at it. You owned maybe two thrillers and neither dealt with…anything like that.

"But it was me in the memory. I swore I was walking and there — there was that bakery!" You exclaimed, pointing at the bag. "You were there in front of me. Why were you there, Bucky? Did… Did something happen?"

Bucky’s jaw clenched as he looked over you. His eyes were a bit darker now, taking in your stubborn form. You tried holding your ground under his gaze but you were too intimidated by him. Besides, a bad day could be upon you. But you also felt your curiosity was justified and he hadn’t snapped right away. Was there really something to this?

But Bucky just shook his head again. "I really don’t know what you’re talking about," he sighed. "Why would you have even been over by that bakery? I tell you to stay away from there, don’t I? Unless you’ve been sneaking out."

Your jaw dropped fully this time. That was near to impossible it felt like not to mention it was absolutely something you’d never do. You’d never break Bucky’s trust like that. You knew the consequences that could come from it. They could even follow if he had just thought you did something. That was another part of the path you had to steer from.

"N-No!" You placed your hands on his chest, trying to reason. "I didn’t, Bucky, I swear. Y-You’re right. I’d never be over there, that’s such a silly thought to have. I must’ve read about it or something. The newspaper can be so graphic sometimes." You now prayed you were handling this right.

Bucky’s eyes searched you fiercely as you waited for his judgment to reign down upon you. He took your hands in his in an almost crushing hold. You tried to steady your breathing. Every word was pretty true. It must’ve just been something insane you had read. This could never happen to you. Not with someone like Bucky around. Your protector in many ways.

Eventually, Bucky nodded and said, "I’m canceling the paper subscription until you get better. I don’t want you getting scared like this, sweetheart." A beat. You let out a sigh of relief. "That means no more thriller novels either, okay? I need my sweet girl back. You’ve become so jittery." With that explanation, Bucky pulled you into a hug, his arms tight around you. You reciprocated, throwing your arms around his neck. You were glad he couldn’t see your confused expression. You hadn’t become jittery…had you? Maybe this outburst was a sign of something to come. Bucky was pretty smart when it came to stuff like that.

"I’m sorry to worry you," you mumbled.

Bucky pulled away. He forced you two eye-to-eye once more. His hand came to your cheek, caressing softly. "I just want to protect my girl, okay? That’s a lot of bad things out there."

You agreed and Bucky gave a small smile before placing a soft kiss on your lips. He eventually broke the hug and you watched as he took the bakery bag and its treats. Both were immediately dropped into the trash.

"What did you do that for?" You asked. You actually wouldn’t mind a cheese danish now.

Bucky shrugged, his smirk doing little to hide the concern for you. "Who needs that when my girl is making me a homemade pie?" Bucky took a strawberry from the bowl and popped it in his mouth. You gasped at his action, swatting his hands away while he laughed like a child.

The situation was now suddenly long forgotten. So fast, so swift. As he had wanted.

You turned back to the pie filling, completely oblivious to Bucky’s sudden change in expression. His dark eyes roamed over you like a hawk to prey.

[asexualbookbird]

ITS BEEN A HELL OF A TWO MONTHS, YALL. Family problems, health problems, disabled problems, this summer sucks lol I read a lot this month thanks to the readathon, so I get some of the good brain juices from that little accomplishment. One month closer to my best friends wedding which I am so excited for,  discovered I like mango so long as it’s not fresh (so candied, dried, jellied), figured out the right card combo to get high scores in SIF, there were good things peppered throughout the bad. Still wish life didn’t happen so fast.

BOOKS

Year of the Reaper ⭐⭐ (May)

Salt Fat Acid Heat (May)

Summer Sons⭐⭐⭐⭐(May)

Of A Feather (May)

Beasts of Prey ⭐(June)

The Library At Mount Char  ⭐⭐ (June)

Across A Field Of Starlight ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

The Deep & Dark Blue ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

The Ikkesar Falcon ⭐⭐⭐ (June)

This Is How You Lose The Time War ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

OTHER MEDIA

The Magnus Archives

Ringfit

Love Life School Idol Festival

Project Diva

The Adventure Zone: Ethersea

The Penumbra Podcast

Pokemon Alpha Sapphire

FOOD

grilled lamb chops (birthday dinner!)

cinnamon challah

overnight french toast (made from cinnamon challah)

chocolate chips cookies (twice, both Bad for some reason??)

chicken roast

banana bread

banana pudding

poached fish

BERRY PIE

buffalo wings

teriyaki chicken

sausage rolles

fig squares

PEACH PIE

I left non fiction books unrated because it feels weird to rate Real Things. SFAH is a very good resource, especially if you’re new to cooking. A lot of it was stuff I already new, but it had me thinking about it in different ways, which is always good. The recipes are also easy to follow and I love the pull out flavor charts.

I finished The Magnus Archives in May and I loved it so much it took everything I had not to immediately start it again. I still might though. I miss Jon and Martin and Basira and Melanie and

I listened to an entire season and then some of The Penumbra Podcast and decided it was Not For Me. It’s Fine and I see what they were going for, but I wasn’t enjoying it. Walks were no longer fun. I thought it was because I enjoyed TMA so much, I was comparing it, like when I was reading Project Hail Mary all I could think was “I’d rather be reading Murderbot”, but sometimes! That’s because the thing you’re consuming isn’t fun! And that’s okay! Also hated that it was a mostly funny and slapstick show and then they blew up a cat.

Started Alpha Sapphire, but I’m taking my time with it. Sapphire was my favorite game growing up, my best friend (WHO IS GETTING MARRIED I LOVE HER) gave it to me in sixth grade and I swear I put a good 900 hours into it AT LEAST. And then another, different also besty friend got me Alpha Sapphire for my birthday this year and I get to repeat the process. It means so much to me, my friends as always are a shining light in my life, I love yall so much.

I have stomach issues again and my mom is dealing with Gross Smells (don’t know if it’s covid related, neither of us ever tested positive), so food hasn’t been a big thing recently. The peach pie was less a pie and more a bowl of peaches with pie crust on top (can’t have a soggy bottom if you don’t have a bottom). It was still good and I still ate it all, don’t get me wrong, but it’s less fun when others can’t enjoy it with you.

July goals? I don’t know lol SIF finally closed up their anniversary events so I look forward to not playing that as often. I’d like to do some art this month since crocheting is still painful and cooking isn’t the same when it’s just me. I need a creative outlet. I need to send off a gift box and get wedding shoes (why is shoe shopping so hard), I want to read the stack of books on my desk (leftovers from the Readathon and library books and books I’m Maybe Feeling Like Reading), I’d like to do another puzzle, and since I’ve finally discovered a way that audibooks work for me, I can read AND puzzle at the same time! Life hacked!

Here’s to July, may you get your shit together.

[harrypotterbrainworms]

Growing Love

Summary: Neville is the best plant scientist man and y/n is a little dumb dumb, but loves his smart boyfriend.

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name.

Word Count: 1028

Neville sat quietly to himself, smiling fondly at the beautiful bloom he had created. It felt nice to be good at something for once. He’d taken such care with the now not so small plant. It’s soft blossoms freshly awake upon hearing Neville’s cooing and encouragement. It almost looked like it leaned towards him with its fragile frame as Neville tendered to its aquatic terrarium. Four small bottles of honey with different labels sitting in front of four similar terrariums.

“Can I taste it now?” (Y/N) impatiently tapped his foot against the stool as he hovered around the project. Neville shook his head at his boyfriend as he took down his daily plant report.

‘Week 3, Day 23, flower blossoms unaffected by picking. Roots intact and water level not past an acceptable level. Counter potion to the weed taken-‘ He tries to think for a minute, then looks at his watch ‘1 hour and 23 minutes ago. Taste test 1:’ He sighs, looking at the different bottles and then back at (Y/N).

“Are you sure you want to do this? I could’ve made an error or missed a step or messed with the breeding-“ He was about to list every one of the cons on his pro and con list for this project, but (Y/N) stopped him.

“Free honey? Duh, I want to. We took a counter potion made by yours truly. I have full confidence in potion skills” He sat proudly, pointing at the half empty foul tasting potion they had drunk.

“Your funeral.” He sighed again, warily picking up the first bottle and a spoon.

“OUR funeral.” (Y/N) clarified which made Neville look a little sick. He took his hand and placed it on Neville’s forearm, squeezing it in reassurance.

“Hey, hey. You’re an expert at this, Longbottom. You’ve been on this-“ He vaguely circled his hand around the crossbreeds. “When this succeeds-” “If.” “WHEN this succeeds, you’re gonna be a legend. Imagine the big fat HUGE book you’re going to write about these beauties. I’ll read it, even if I don’t understand a word” (Y/N) smiled, making Neville a bit better exploiting his boyfriend’s taste buds.

Neville gulped as (Y/N) took the spoon into his hand, opening up the first of the four bottles. “Not too much.” He put a hand on his boyfriend worryingly so. “I know, I know. You’ve explained it 500 times.” He took Neville’s hand away from his own to dip into the honey.

(Y/N) dipped the spoon in, pulling it out to let it dip down slowly. Taking care to make sure there was only a thin film of honey covering it. “This one is?” He asked looking up at Neville. “Dandelion gillyweed crossbreed honey. It’s supposed to taste good according to…” He looked down at the recipe book on the table, the name ‘Alice’ with a vicious scribble next to it and an arrow pointing up to replace it with ‘Longbottom.’

“A-according to mum.” He said after a small pause, (Y/N) gave a nod and licked the spoon, his eyes widened as he looked back at the honey and back at Neville continuously. Once his mouth wasn’t attacking the honey, he took a breath and spoke.

“Wow. That was… that was delicious. That was incredible! That… that doesn’t taste like anything I have EVER tasted.” He exclaimed, beaming up at Neville who looked back at the cookbook with a blush creeping on his face.

“I thought that m-maybe giving the gillyweed a sweeter taste combined with the previous things discovered about dandelions could…” He trailed off on a usual dump of information, something about the stomach acid properties of dandelion roots and the gillyweed effects on immune system responses. He couldn’t understand most of it, but the way Neville explained it made it sound interesting enough. (Y/N) couldn’t stop looking at his eyes lighting up and the sweetness of the honey he just sampled that when Neville went quiet and looked back at him he barely registered it.

“Neville?” He smiled fondly at his boyfriend, making Neville swivel his head back to the report, writing something he was sure was of some importance.

“Yeah?” He replied as nonchalantly as he could without acknowledging the redness of his face. (Y/N) came up behind him and hugged him from behind, placing a little peck into the back of his neck.

“Keep going.” He hummed satisfied to listen for another day if Neville needed it. He always noticed Neville’s best was when he could bounce ideas around others and this was by far the most complex experiment he had come up with.

“If you insist,” Neville smiled to himself as he wrote down a little note ‘thank you gift for (Y/N), very important!!!’ scribbled next to the sketch of the dandelion/gillyweed hybrid.

After an hour of tasting, testing, and reviewing the honey. (Y/N) concluded that the first one tasted the best, followed by a very lovely looking somehow purple lavender honey that he swear tasted like Year 3 summer making Neville’s blush worsen. With the sun low below the clouds and the potion wearing off, they decided it was time to get dinner and sleep finally.

“Are you sure I didn’t bore you?” Neville nervously fidgeted with a frayed end of his tie, twisting and twirling at the thread.

“For the millionth time, Neville Longbottom, no! If I didn’t enjoy watching you dork out about plants, I don’t think I would be here, would I?” He pulled Neville down by the cheeks looking him in the eyes with a fiery ‘Say another bad thing about my boyfriend and I’ll kiss you so hard’ look on his face and a little determination.

“No” Neville frowned under the cheek holding and (Y/N) sighed.

“Exactly, I love your nerdy little brain” He pulled squished Neville’s cheeks toward him scrunching up his nose,then pulling his face in, he went for a kiss on the forehead, cheek and then lips.

“Now when are we going to test it for real, huh?” He smirked, looking back at the jars of honey and notes.

[blossomingimagines]

Requiem

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Stark!Reader

Word Count: 5,572

Summary:

Notes: I changed a bit about Civil War-- like the Reader lives in the Tower instead of the Compound. I also changed a bit about how everything went down-- it’s been a while since I’ve seen Civil War. So please don’t be too mad about those changes. 

Warnings: Angst.

Dialogue Prompts: “You’re making me think that what they told me about you was right.” // “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

The soothing melody of music swarmed around you. The smooth ivory keys of the piano were cool against your fingertips. A stark contrast to the whiskey burning its way down your throat every time you paused. The calming melody being replaced by the clinking of ice against the glass; something that reminded you of your father. A comparison that brought an even darker cloud over your head. 

Like father, like daughter, your mind purrs. 

Clenching your teeth, you slam your glass against the smooth surface of the piano. An acidic feeling working its way up until you were able to force it back down. The action causes tears to form in your eyes and pain to flare through your chest. Images of memories long suppressed flashing through your mind as you stood. Your gait stumbled ever-so-slightly as you made your way towards the large couch in the center of the room. 

You wished for nothing more than to have the memories stop. To have the past twenty-four hours erased from your mind. To go back to a time when your team, your family, was still whole; severely damaged but whole. Where you didn’t know that the people you trusted had kept something so crucial from you. From Tony. Back to a time where the image of your older brother’s haunted face wasn’t seared into your brain-- where his bright brown eyes weren’t dimmed to a hollow black. 

Back to a time when your heart was whole. Where you didn’t second guess everything that had happened for the past six years of your life.

The Day Prior…. 

A smile pulls at your lips as you hum a soft tune against the oppressive silence of the Tower. Wanting to fill a normally joyous environment with its usual cheer. Anything to offset the darkness that had been consuming all the light that had finally worked its way into your life. 

The inviting aroma of the pasta sauce wafts through your nose. A warm feeling blossoming in your chest at the memories, and the feelings, it invokes within you. It was a recipe that your dear Brucey had imparted onto you after another failed attempt by your brother to make dinner. It seemed that for all his brains, Tony couldn’t figure out how to work a stove even if his life depended on it. 

Even though he could probably make one in his sleep. 

You held hope that your brother would be returning today. You knew how much the Accords, and the subsequent battles, were affecting him. His already fucked up sleeping schedule became almost nonexistent. Not to mention his new diet consisting solely of leftover pizza and coffee. Hopefully a nice home cooked meal would do him some good. You also held hope that your long term girlfriend, Natasha, would be joining your brother on his return. You didn’t truly know everything that was going on with the so-called ‘Civil War’ but you were beyond glad that Natasha wasn’t on the opposite side of it. You didn’t know what you would do if you lost her too. 

You still couldn’t comprehend that Steve, your Capsicle, was no longer part of the Avengers-- at least the version that the public would rally behind. Couldn’t believe that Clint had so easily followed behind him without a second glance back. That Wanda, despite all of her misgivings about your last name, would leave you too. You knew that the Accords were demanding many things from the heroes, although you didn't know the extent of everything, you didn’t see the reason for the battles that had risen because of them. Not when amendments and other legalities could still surface in the wake of such a document coming into fruition. 

You understood, in part, how Steve must feel having such restrictions appear. Flashing him back to a time that you had only read in history books and heard from the drunken ramblings of your father. Where if the rules weren’t followed there would be dire consequences. You also understood that Steve wanted to protect his friend from such restrictions-- you just couldn’t understand how a man that followed various rules like they were God’s words themselves could be so flippant about something so important. Could be so callous to the wishes of millions of people and their representatives. It wasn’t the forties anymore, Steve had to come to terms with that. The world wasn’t what it used to be.

At the first sign of Steve’s rejection to the Accords, you had hoped that Tony would be able to talk him into it. Would be able to stop the conflict before it even had the chance to rise. All that hope had flown out the window after the airport. After Rhodey, your beloved wombat, had gotten crippled you knew that nothing would ever be the same again. That nothing could fix the wound that had been inflicted on Tony’s already battered heart because of it. 

An event that only became that much worse because you had only been able to catch glimpses of Natasha. Seeing her briefly in the hallway of the hospital with a dark look painted on her face. You had tried to approach her but she had vanished before you even got half-way. The next, and last, time you had seen her she was speaking with Tony. An exchange that didn’t look to be on the friendliest of terms. Yet another fact that you couldn’t comprehend. As their relationship, although starting off rough, blossomed after you began dating. An understanding growing between them that you were the glue that held them together. Friendship growing from that shared bond like flowers blossoming amongst the weeds at last. Witnessing such an exchange had shocked you but you still held hope that it was simply the ramifications of the battle-- having Steve and the rest of the rogues escape must have stung. Not to mention Rhodey’s injuries pouring salt into an already gaping wound. 

Your hope was the only thing getting you through. 

The smell of burning tomatoes fills your nose causing you to blanche. Your brow furrowing in surprise at the unexpected smell before, with muttered curses, you realize what you had done. As quickly as you were able to, you turned the burner off and brought the pot to the sink-- wherein you dumped it unceremoniously. A petulant frown making its way across your face at the sight. 

Shaking your head, you grab a hand towel and make your way around the kitchen. You knew that Tony wasn’t the pickiest of eaters but you had wanted to make his homecoming meal special. Naked pasta didn’t really get that feeling across. At least I tried. 

“I guess Tony isn’t the only one who’s been frazzled by all of this,” you mutter as you toss the towel onto the counter. 

“You’re still using words like frazzled, Y/N?”

The unexpected response causes you to jump in surprise. Your heart leaping in your throat as you saw the shadowed figure of your brother standing in the precipice of the room. A grin pulling at your lips at the sight. 

“Yes, Anthony, I do,” you reply. “At least when I believe that you’re not around.” 

“I’m hurt, Y/N/N,” Tony cries with faux hurt in his tone. His hands coming to grasp his chest with an exaggerated air. At the movement, however, you notice how stiff his movements were. Your eyes narrow as you take in his entire figure again. Noticing the slouched posture and the almost defeated air that surrounded him. 

Taking a worried step forward, you couldn’t stop the fear that interlaced itself within your tone. “Tony, what happened?”

“I lost.” 

If it was possible you could feel even more fear work its way through your body. Tony never admitted defeat, not since your father was alive, he felt like it was a sign of weakness. While it could get annoying at times you know that Tony didn’t mean anything malicious by it. Hearing the words fall from his lips without a hint of resistance? 

It filled you with a sense of dread you hadn’t felt since the day you learned about your parents. 

And when Tony finally stepped from the shadows?

It brought you back to the moment that he had told you. His body caving in on itself as he tried to hide from the world. His bright, intelligent, brown eyes turning black with the various emotions that ran through his mind. His smiling, jovial, face turning serious and grim. A contrast that you don’t think you would ever be able to stomach. You knew that Tony could be serious, when he wanted to be, but seeing him so broken? Empty? That was something you don’t think you could ever witness without feeling your own heart break because of it. 

All of that combined with the bruises? You could already feel the oncoming panic before it even began. 

Rushing towards your brother, you gently take his face into your hands-- noticing his slight flinch as you did so. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you gently stroke your thumb across his cheekbone. 

“What the hell happened, Tony?” 

Your question causes Tony to pause. As if he didn’t know what to tell you-- or how much to tell you. At the expression, your grip tightens ever-so-slightly.

“Don’t beat around the bush, Tony. Tell me what the hell happened.” You pause as an unsettled feeling wells within you. “Did Steve do this to you?” 

“Y/N/N,” Tony sighs with a soft look appearing on his face. His eyes trying to desperately tell you what he couldn’t voice. What he didn’t want to voice. Without thinking you take a staggered step away from him. Your hand flying to your mouth as you try to keep your tears at bay. Not believing that man you trusted would be able to do something like this. 

“Ho-” You clear your throat as the words get stuck. “How did this happen, Tony? Where was Natasha in all of this? How could she have let this happen? How could your team let this happen?”

“It wasn’t supposed to escalate,” he murmurs as he takes your hands into his. His eyes imploring you to understand. “I went to talk to Rogers and Barnes. I wanted to stop the incessant battles and finally come back together as a team. As a family.”

You take one of his bruised hands in yours. “You’re not a violent man, Tony. Not more than any of the others.” You shake your head. “Something must have happened for it to escalate to such a degree. Especially if you went there to just talk.”

Tony stiffens. “I don’t think you want to continue this conversation, Y/N.”

“Yes, I do. I want to know how a man that praises himself on his honor could attack you in such a way. I want to know what caused you to fight in the first place.” You squeeze Tony’s hand. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Tones. You don’t have to protect me from everything. I’m dating a former KGB agent after all.” 

Tony winces at the reminder but you try not to read too much into it. His eyes shifting downwards as he gripped your hand in his. “They didn’t attack me, Y/N/N.” He pauses as he forces himself to continue. To tell you the awful truth of what happened. “I attacked them.”

“What?” You ask with a horrified expression. “Why would you do that?” 

He seems to shrink even more because of your tone. “I learned some things. Things that I should have known from the beginning.” His head lowers once more as his voice drops to a whisper. “Things you should have known from the beginning.” 

You shake your head as you try to understand. “What could have been so bad that it caused you to attack one of your greatest friends? To do so when you went with the simple understanding of a truce?” 

There was a moment of silence.

“I think we need to sit down for this, Y/N.” 

Before you could react, Tony was pulling you out of the kitchen and towards the sitting area of the Tower-- the dinner you had made completely forgotten on the island. 

You didn’t think you had much of an appetite anyways.

Tugging at your hand, Tony settles on the couch with you at his side. His expressive brown eyes staring into yours as he mulled over his next words. 

When the silence became too much, you couldn’t stop the desperate plea that fell from your lips. “Just tell me, Tony. Please.” 

He nods, his body straightening and his shoulders stiffening. He looked like a man prepared for battle that didn’t let anything in this world get to him. If it wasn’t for the pained expression on his face you would believe that to be so.

“As you know I went to Siberia to meet with Rogers and Barnes. I wanted to wipe the slate clean between us. To bring both sides back together again. We need to be united if we have any chance of protecting Earth.” Sighing, Tony shakes his head as if to redirect himself. “During the conversation a video began playing.”

“A video?” You question with a small frown furrowing your brow. 

“Yes,” Tony murmurs. “A video that was created on December 16, 1991.” 

All color drained from your face at the revelation. An almost static buzzing taking over your surroundings as you tried to comprehend what Tony told you. Your eyes watering at the knowledge of what must have been on that video. You didn’t have to hear the rest to know that much. Didn’t have to look farther than Tony’s haunted expression. Or the simple fact of the date you hated more than anything becoming a reality once more. Yet another nightmare working its way into your reality. You just foolishly believed you had finally gotten past this one already. 

Closing your eyes, you try to stem the oncoming flow of tears. Your voice coming out strained because of your efforts. “Did he know?”

There was another moment of silence. 

“Yes.”

This time you knew your heart had broken-- possibly is much easier to handle than actually. You didn’t want to believe that Steve had kept something from you for so long. Something that he had no right keeping from either you or Tony. Even if it was to protect his friend. You had the right to know what happened to your parents. 

At the soft touch to your cheek, you open your eyes to meet Tony’s pained gaze. You knew that Tony had never been close to your father, you hadn’t either, but you knew that Tony never wanted anything bad to happen to him. Much less have anything happen to your mother. Knowing that an accident hadn’t been the cause. Knowing that someone you trusted abetted their murderer. Someone you knew had been connected with each one of Tony’s old teammates in one way or another. 

It was a thought that caused your heart to break even more. 

“Please tell me it’s not true,” you beg with tears streaming down your cheeks. By the look in Tony’s eyes you knew he understood what you were asking. What you were begging him to not be true. “Please tell me that she didn’t know.” You lower your head as a sob erupts from your mouth. “Please tell me that I didn’t just lose her too.”

Tony wrapping his arms around you was all the answer you needed. Keens falling from your lips as your new reality finally sunk in. Clinging to your brother in the dark with sobs punctuating the silence. Filling the usually joyous space with pain and grief. The darkness finally took over the light. 

With your heart irreparably shattered.

And your hope forever crushed. 

You had lost track of how long you had stayed in Tony’s arms. Your tears coming and going like tidal waves. The arrival of Pepper hadn’t surprised you in the slightest. You knew that your brother and her had a lot to work through, but you no one could deny the love they held for one another. Nor could you refute the loyalty that Pepper showed to the Stark family. So you weren’t surprised when Tony’s well muscled arms were replaced by slim ones. When his masculine scent was replaced by soothing floral. 

You had simply burrowed further into Pepper’s arms and allowed yourself to grieve. Allowed the pain to flow from you like a constant stream. A never ending river that you didn’t know if you could save yourself from drowning in. 

However, the refuge you found within Pepper’s embrace was short lived. You knew that you were being selfish by keeping her all to yourself. That you were ignoring Tony’s pain for the sake of your own. A thought that causes your stomach to turn even more. You knew that you had to be by yourself, at least for a little while, so Tony could have his own haven. So Tony could begin to grieve too. 

With great effort you had pulled yourself from Pepper’s warmth and gestured towards the silent figure of your brother. You didn’t have to speak to get the message across of where you wanted Pepper to be. You simply stood, fighting back the need to collapse, and began making your way towards the elevator. You knew that the type of comfort Pepper would provide Tony would be quite different from the type she gave you. 

Even as you stepped into the elevator and the doors began closing, you could hear the soft murmurs of their voices. The loving lilt you could discern even from the distance you were at. It filled you with a numbing sense of warmth. You had never been more happy for someone being in your life than at that moment. You didn’t want to imagine what would have happened to Tony if he didn’t have Pepper. 

Just like you didn’t want to imagine your life without Natasha. 

Even though you knew you had to. 

It is the reality that you were living in. A nightmare that had finally caught up with you after so long. 

As real as the pain in your chest. 

As real as the pounding of your skull. 

And as real as the glass of whiskey you were going to have to numb it all. 

Present…. 

At the memories, you bury your head into your hands. Trying to stop your heart from breaking even more. There was only so much you could take before you finally lost it. Stifling a groan, you settle back onto the couch and stare at the half empty whiskey decanter situated on the glass table. Wondering if your head, and throat, could take any more of the punishment the amber liquid provided. Your fingers twitching at your sides to pour yourself another glass but you refrained. 

You were not about to drown all of your problems with alcohol-- even if you wanted nothing more than to do so. 

Letting loose a low groan, you flop your head back against the couch. Your eyes screwing shut as you tried to ignore the growing feeling of numbness that was settling over you. A numbness that was tinged with fire. A feeling that you were beyond scared to feel once more. You hadn’t felt this type of emotion since you had first heard that your parents were dead. Hadn’t felt this growing feeling of anger being off-set by the hollowness of grief in such a long time. You had no idea what to do.

All you did know was that you wanted it to stop. 

You wanted it all to stop-- at least for a moment. 

Of course, you wouldn’t be a Stark if anything ever went your way. The sound of approaching footsteps rectified that fact. You automatically recognized the graceful gait. A gait that you would only hear if its owner wished you to.

You didn’t know how you felt about that. 

Without opening your eyes, you speak. “What do you want Natasha?”

At your words the footsteps disappear, but you knew that she hadn’t stopped moving. Not when you felt a familiar presence settle itself in front of you. Her warmth radiating off of her like a furnace. Something that you would normally relish in. Now it only made you want to get away as fast as you were able. 

“Can you open your eyes and look at me, Y/N?” 

You almost refused to acknowledge her soft request. Almost turned away from her completely but you couldn’t. Not when she still controlled your heart the way she did. So, with a soft sigh, you open your eyes and are surprised by what you see. Natasha’s green eyes staring at you with tears shimmering within their depths. Her normally luminescent skin a chalky white that caused the dark circles under her eyes to stand out. Her red hair is thrown into a messy bun on the top of her head. It was a sight that caused your heart to lurch-- even if you cursed yourself because of it. Natasha looked tortured. The pain written across her face, her completely open face, a clear indicator. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you try to figure out what to do. You knew that Natasha still held the reins to your heart. That she more than likely always would. But this betrayal, this deceit, wasn’t something you could just look over. Not like you had done with the whole Natalie Rushman debacle. There were only so many lies you could bear before everything came tumbling down. 

“Why are you here?” You finally settle on after another beat of silence. Your question rings out across the expanse of space between you. Your gaze never wavering from her emerald green. 

Natasha frowns. “Why do you think I’m here? I’m here to make things right between us.”

You scoff, feeling your anger begin to scorch through your body. “Make things right? Make things right?” You stand as the last part of your statement turns shrill. Your eyes blazing with indignation as you stared down at her. “How the hell do you think you can make things right? After what you did? After what you kept from me?”

Following your lead, Natasha stands and tries to move towards you. An action that you quickly move away from as you move back over towards the piano. At your clear dismissal, Natasha wrings her hands together. An almost panicked look beginning to work its way across her face. “I know, Y/N, I know what I did was wrong, I do, but I thought what I was doing was right. I thought I was protecting my family,” Natasha pleads. “I didn’t think it would escalate like this.”

A sardonic laugh falls from your lips. “Didn’t think?” You shake your head, another laugh erupting from your mouth. “You didn’t think that it would escalate like it has? How else would it have fucking happened? You thought that everything would be all hunky-dory after what you did? Really? You know better than that Natasha. I know you do.” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Natasha cries. “I know that I fucked up but I didn’t think Steve would react like this. I didn’t think so many people would have gotten hurt in the process. If I had known I would have never let them go.” 

Silence. 

Complete and total silence falls over the room at her admission. The same buzzing feeling making its way through your ears as you stare at her. Your brain working overtime to comprehend what Natasha had just admitted to you. 

Taking a step back, you stare at her with an appalled expression. “What?” 

Natasha, seemingly not understanding your confusion, takes a small step towards you. A frown marring her beautiful face. “I didn’t think letting them go would result in all of this.” She runs a hand through her hair-- destroying the bun she had kept it in. “I didn’t think it would destroy you like this. That it would hurt you the way it has. I’m so sorry, lyubov moya.” 

“You let them go?” You ask, needing confirmation. Needing to hear her say it again. “You let them go?”

Lowering her head, Natasha seems to wilt. As if she was finally just realizing that she had said the wrong thing. That the true cause of your misery, at your anger towards her, was still an enigma. “Yes,” she whispers. “I let them go.”

Shaking your head, you take another step away from her, your eyes watering once more at the truth that was so obvious for so long. That you had been blinded from for too long. “I’ve never really known you have I?” 

Her head snaps up to stare at you at the question. A horrified expression crossing her face as she finally realized how much damage had been inflicted. Emerald green eyes shining with even more suppressed tears as she begged you to understand. “Of course you know me, Y/N. You’re the only one that has ever truly known me. I’ve given my everything to you. Please tell me how I can fix this. Tell me how I can repair us.” 

“There’s no fixing this, Natasha. Rhodey is crippled because of your decision to let the rogues go. Tony’s best friend is crippled because of you. He trusted you, believed in you, and you did this? I know that they’re your family, Natasha, I do. But they were ours too. Did you really think that Tony would let them be second-rate citizens forever? Did you really think that we wouldn’t do everything in our power to protect them?” A self deprecating smile flashes across your face. You already knew that answer to all of them. “Of course you didn’t. You didn’t believe that the egomaniacal Starks could save the day. That we wouldn’t just wait for the easy way out and be done with it.”

“No, lyubov moya,” Natasha denies immediately. “I would never think such things about you or Tony. Not anymore. Not since I’ve been able to see what lies beneath the masks. I could understand Steve’s plight. I knew that no matter what you or Tony did it wouldn’t be enough to save them. That Ross and the others would do everything in their power to muzzle us. That’s why I let them go. I couldn’t imagine someone being on the same leash I had been on.”

“Is that why you kept the true cause of my parents death from me? To save them?” 

A shocked look passes over Natasha’s face at your question-- a small flinch appearing at the ire strewn within each syllable. 

“Steve didn’t tell you?”

A bark of laughter erupts from your mouth. “Of course, your precious Steve didn’t tell me. Why the fuck would Rogers tell me anything that didn’t pertain to him being the golden boy? He’s Captain America. We wouldn't want him to lose that spotless repertoire.” You take a small step towards her. Your eyes turn acidic as your voice lowered into a snarl. “But it doesn’t matter that he didn’t tell me. You should have been the one to do so. You. The same woman that has shared my bed for years. The same woman that has made me look like a fool for years because I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” 

“And what’s that, Y/N? What has been right in front of you this whole time?” 

“That I don’t know who you are anymore, Natasha.” You stifle the urge to sob at the look that passes over her face at the admission. “That you’re making me think that what they told me about you was right.”

As if you had physically struck her, Natasha stumbled back. Her face, if possible, turning even paler than you had ever seen it. “What have they been telling you?”

Turning your head, your eyes find the decanter filled with amber. Wishing that you had a glass in your hand. Wanting nothing more than to stop this conversation in its tracks. To simply open your arms and accept Natasha back. To let your heart open up once more to her. There was nothing more that you wanted-- even if you knew it could never be a possibility. 

“You may have left the Red Room behind, Natasha.” You begin with a small, dejected, sigh falling from your lips. Your gaze meeting hers once more. “But the Red Room has never left you. Nor will it ever leave you. I know that you’re more than the red in your ledger. I believe that more strongly than you could ever possibly know. No matter how much I wish otherwise, however, you will always be a spy. That’s how you were trained to be. That’s how you were raised and nothing can ever negate that. I’m not saying you’re a double agent, Natasha, I’m not. I just don’t think you’ve ever truly been on our side. I think that the bond you have with Steve, with the others, will always be stronger than the bond you have with us. They’re soldiers, survivors, heroes.” A small smile quirks your lips. “Hell some of them are even spies too. While I’m just an heiress with a lot of daddy issues. With an older brother that sometimes goes over the top. I don’t blame you for choosing them. I don’t blame you for staying true to who you are. I just don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

“Y/N/N,” Natasha pleads. Emerald eyes desperate as she took a small step towards you. Her entire being wilting as you took a step back. A normally impassive face losing its internal battle as tears started to flow down her face. A small sob falling from her lips as she realized that she had lost you. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”

At the sight of her tears, you finally lose your own internal struggle. Moving towards her and taking her into your arms. Trying to ignore how right it felt to have her there. Trying to ignore the feeling of her tears hitting your skin. Of her heavy breathing as she tried to control herself. The almost desperate way she was clinging onto you. For she knew the moment she let go you would be gone. 

Lowering your head, you press a small kiss to the top of her head. Your arms tightening around her as you said a silent goodbye. 

“I’m sorry too, Natasha. I’m sorry it’s turned out like this.” Pulling back, you cup her face in your hands. Fighting back even more tears as she nuzzled into the embrace. Emerald green shimmering with her pain. You offer a watery smile towards her. “I’ll give you a head start.” 

Another sob escapes her lips. “I would go to jail for the rest of my life if it still meant I had you.”

“I don’t think I would ever be able to live with myself if you went to jail because of me, Natasha.”

“And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live with myself knowing that I’m the reason I lost the love of my life.” 

Not knowing what else to do, you pull Natasha back into your arms. Memorizing the feel of her body pressing into yours. Her scent wafting through your nose-- the feeling of home coming with it. The strength she exuded even when she was nuzzled into your neck. Her arms never wavering from your waist as she returned your embrace. Knowing that this was possibly the last time you would ever get to hold her filled you to the brim with anguish. 

After another moment passes, you finally step back from Natasha. Gently pulling her arms from around you as she tried to hold on. Your eyes meeting her agonized emerald. 

“I love you, Y/N,” she murmurs.

“I love you too, Nat,” you murmur back. “I think I always will.”

Glancing towards the clock situated on the wall, you finally notice the time. Without turning back to her, you speak. “It’s around the time that Tony will be getting up, Natasha. I think you should leave now while you still have the chance.”

There was a beat of silence. Where, for a moment, you thought that Natasha wouldn’t leave. That she was going to stay resolutely in front of you. Her warmth caressing your body like a blanket. 

That moment didn’t last long. As the warmth slipped from you like water through your fingers. Your eyes closing at the painful feeling the chill caused. The loneliness that was pressing down onto you. Something that only doubled when you heard the faint ding of the elevator. 

The only proof of her presence being the faint scent of her and the pain in your chest. 

Opening your eyes, you level your gaze back towards the decanter. 

One more drink wouldn’t hurt.

Not if it meant you could suppress everything that has happened. 

If it meant you wouldn’t see her face every time you closed your eyes. 

Anything would be better than the pain.

Even if you had to be numb to achieve it.

[expectingtofly]

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.

[simssprout]

sims 4 holiday legacy!

i wanted to make a fun legacy with some silly rules to shake up the traditional goal based legacies! hope you enjoy it!

general rules:

- must complete aspiration, get to level ten of career, and complete extra rules to complete gen

- can use money cheats (if you want it to be traditional legacy, start with 1800 simoleans, if not, download a nice house and have starting funds)

- physical style/dress sense are suggestions, as you can have your sims look however you want

- everyone in household must have an excellent holiday for the holiday that correlates with the gen. if the holiday didnt come with seasons, add it to the calender!

gen 1: new years

as the first holiday of the year, youre ready to get your life, body, and mind into shape!

- traits: active, dog lover, perfectionist

- aspiration: bodybuilder

- career: writer (author)

- must always be dressed “fancy”

- silvery/platinum blonde hair

- max out fitness and writing skill. reach level five of wellness

- if you have the packs, include vintage glamour or luxury party in multiple rooms of your house

- whenever you are tense, must do yoga to cool off

- have a dog with active trait, go for jogs with them often

- only eat foods that you deem as healthy

- visit every gym lot in game (could do just premade ones and/or can add your own)

- marry a sim you met a gym or spa

- only publish motivational books or fitness

- have three friends that you go out with occasionally and party

- get “juiced” every holiday

gen 2: love day

youve been obsessed with romcoms and romance novels since you were a kid. now that youre grown up, you want to fulfill your childhood romance dreams!

- traits: romantic, bookworm, art lover

- aspiration: soulmate

- career: social media, either branch

- pink/red hair

- dress “romantically” (if you have seasons, use heart dress/suit)

- max charisma and painting skill

- must go on weekly dates with significant other

- gush about partner whenever option is avliable

- paint multiple portraits of partner using paint from reference

- only read romance novels and watch romantic tv

- if you have pets, must dress them in cute dresses

- live in the city as a young adult, can move after if you want to

- always go to romance festival

- have a boy and a girl

gen 3: talk like a pirate day

youve always loved the pirate lifestyle, exploring, stealing, and meeting people all over the place. eventhough you cant have a career as a pirate, that dosent stop you!

- traits: kleptomaniac, non-commital, self-assured

- aspiration: jungle explorer

- career: mixologist

- must wear a pirate outfit/hat as an everyday outfit

- max mixology and archeology skill. reach at least level four mischief

- have at least two children with different partners

- marry someone young, divorce, and never marry again

- have multiple boyfriends/girlfriends at a time

- always sell your artifacts and any other “treasure” you find

- complete at least four “plumages” (temples)

- attempt to steal something from every lot you visit

- for extra fun, if you use mc command center, max woohoo skill

- accept any party invite

gen 4: bunny day

you love being outside! in any weather, your family can expect to find you exploring outside in the garden, fishing, or finding some frogs

- traits: loves outdoors, unflirty, clumsy

- aspiration: angling ace

- career: fisherman and have a business (selling flower arrangements and mounted fish) or gardener (floral arranger)

- one outfit should be overalls

- green/purple hair

- this sim really likes hats

- max fishing and flower arranging. reach level 5 gardening and baking

- always talk about the current weather in every conversation

- if raining, shower in the rain instead of your shower

- have a large garden, but only grow flowers

- complete frog collection

- have a full fish tank in your house

- live in a tiny house

- purchase storm chaser and water resistant aspiration traits

- have one child

- become BFF with flower bunny

gen 5: earth day

the love your parent had for nature passed onto you. you want to make sure youre enjoying outside, while also protecting it!

- traits: green fiend, maker, gloomy

- aspiration: outdoor enthusiast

- career: eco innovator

- have green hair

- have a boho style

- live in either storage container or tiny home

- max herbalism and fabrication

- when you visit - must pick plain lot and sleep in a tent

- live off the grid and/or have surplus of energy

- have a large garden full of just fruits/veggies

- gift your herbal recipes to friends and family

- have bees and bugs

- have dumpster dived furniture in every room (once you unlock smog vaccum)

- one day a week do not eat a meal, only eat harvestables

- vote for a community garden maker space if living in evergreen harbour

- optional: can become a plant sim

gen 6: simspendence day

the party lifestyle is the lifestyle for you! friends, drinking, and fun is how you live your life! but you also make time to solve and end crime in your wonderful world!

- traits: dance machine, bro, jealous

- aspiration: party animal or island life

- career: detective

- red/yellow hair

- wears sunglasses often, even in cold weather!

- live in oasis springs

- any cooking you do must be on a grill or over a fire

- max guitar, dancing, and dj skill. reach level 4 fitness

- sing karaoke whenever theres a karaoke machine present

- have gold on every event type

- get suntans often

- ride bikes and kick soccer balls often

- have a large backyard with hot tub, fire pit, and water slides

- have two kids, have a good relationship with both. no parenting interactions though.

- watch sports tv only

- have five good friends (not including family). give two of them your house key

gen 7: prank day

what can you say? pranking is fun! messing with people and rilling them up is your favorite passtime.

- traits: goofball, ambitious, mean

- aspiration: chief of mischief

- career: engineer

- max comedy, mischief, and robotics

- always do a funny introduction to people

- use voodoo doll everytime you see the person it is bound to

- go to all dance parties you are invited to after 8pm and prank people

- create a servo

- marry someone that you had a bad relationship with originally

- you really like bowling. take your dates/family bowling often

- have a sad clown painting in your house

- if theres a microphone present, perform a comedy routine

gen 8: spooky day

youve always been obsessed with the spooky season and occult sims. now that you have your own house, its always spooky season!

- traits: loner, genius, neat

- aspiration: nerd brain

- career: astronaut

- black hair

- this sim wears glasses

- max rocket science, handiness

- befriend one of every occult

- can have a spooky house or just always have it decorated spooky

- must have at least one everyday outfit that is a “costume”

- always have carved pumpkins outside your door

- complete geode collection

- visit sixam at least three times

- have a child from a one night stand. do not marry that sim. marry an occult sim

gen 9: harvestfest

cooking has been an outlet for you since your parents let you near the stove. you love creating recipes for your family, friends, and even pets to try!

- traits: glutton, lazy, cat lover

- aspiration: big happy family or successful lineage

- career: own a vet

- yellow/orange hair

- wears mostly warm (tan, brown, yellow, orange) clothes

- max gourment cooking and vet skill

- have all 8 slots full (can include pets)

- must cook homemade pet recipes weekly

- have a little veggie patch for fresh ingredients

- befriend patchy

- whenever eating food not made by you, complain about the meal

- if you cook something less than excellent quality, throw it away and make a new dish, no matter how hungry you are

- get married twice

- rake leaves and then woohoo in them

- have family move nights schedules on the calendar!

gen 10: winterfest

winter is the best! the good food, cold weather, and constant family time is what life is all about!

- traits: family oriented, cheerful, materialistic

- aspiration: lady of the knits

- career: education

- blue/silvery hair

- wear lots of sweaters and cozy clothing

- max cooking and knitting

- give presents to family members everytime you see them

- keep a christmas tree in house year round

- must declare “snow” as favorite weather

- every day there is snow on ground, you must interact with it (snowball fight, shovel, snowpal, snow angel etc)

- have at least three children

- befriend father winter (can marry if you want to)

- complete snowglobe collection

- get the cold acclimation reward trait

- have a dinner party once every two weeks and cook a grand meal everytime

- have lots of family pictures in your house

- get the polar plunge player achievement (can make a holiday)

- always have a fireplace lit

[herstarburststories]

He didn’t make it to 42

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: it’s Dean’s birthday, you go to visit him with some news and things that need to be said.

A/N: Happy bday, De.

Warnings: so much angst, mentions of sex, hopeful/happy ending (?)

Dean’s dead. It’s Dean’s birthday and he’s dead. You can’t argue much.

Sam denied the demon blood inside him, and that didn’t stop its evil nature from growing and gasping for his fresh air to the point he was almost shocked alive. Dean denied his dad’s destructive methods’ results for the longest time, and that didn’t stop the cicatrixes in every emotion he had ever shown. You denied the absence of Dean and that didn’t stop the bricks cracking in your soul. There’s only so far you can go with your eyes closed.

So here you are. Standing in front of an empty grave. You are bigger than the dull tombstone, yet you can’t help but not to feel tall, at all. How can you even start to talk? Talking to Dean used to be easy even when it got hard and now you’re feeling like a lost kid in a supermarket. Your snide thinking spells out his name with venom, saying it isn’t easy for you to open your barmy mouth and spill out contrarian shit because this isn’t Dean, just another meaningless symbolism that Sam promises that will help. The real Dean died almost a year ago, he was burned in a hunter’s funeral, the flames dancing over his body as the smell of burnt meat invaded your nostrils. Whenever you try to remember his fragrance, that manly aroma which you loved to scent each morning, all your brain can come up with is the odor of his skin and guts burning. The smell lingers like bad perfume, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash yourself with his soap-- that only broke your heart worse.

But today is Dean’s birthday. He deserves a visit, even if it’s not him. Then you go and attempt to deal with the desolation, push it away just a little, and pick up something from the enormous pile of things you wish to tell Dean. You glance at the cold tombstone: Dean Winchester. 1979 - 2020. Beloved son, big brother, and husband. Hunter. A hero. Simple definitions that can never make it up for who he was and what he meant. You purse your lips and cough a little, a gentle wind touches your cheek so tenderly. If you were still a believer, you’d think this is some sort of sign, Dean’s presence or some other pious hoax. All you do now is to remain in quietude, a deep breath. Ultimately, your voice comes:

‘’You didn’t make it to forty two, huh?’’ You scoff humorless, reminiscing to the multiple days that Dean said he wouldn’t go past 35. He did live each year like it was the last--- you aren’t sure if it's such a good thing. If you carry on like your days are outnumbered, you are silently entertaining yourself until death's knock on your door. ‘’I always hated when you were right. Let’s be honest, you had the words of a pessimist and the wants of an optimist. Still, if you were to be right about something, it would be about a bad situation. A nest with too many vampires, how crappy the motel’s bedroom would be, or how that third glass of wine would make me tipsy. So yeah, I always hated when you were right. And look at you now! You aren’t right, you aren’t wrong. You are dead! And I’m the crazy girl screaming at an empty tombstone.’’

You let out a laugh empty of joy. That’s how a hunter’s life is: you die and people stop talking about you because it’s too sad or too long gone to hold any pity, meanwhile the ones who recall about you go loud with all the spirits in their heads. You put your hand in the pockets of the heavy leather jacket that once belonged to a green eyed man who would be turning 42 today, some strange force causing you to speak again.

‘’Wow.’’ You shake your head to the blue way you paint the scene until you notice that you never greeted him. ‘’Hey.’’ The simple word adds a comical insult to injury. ‘’Guess the dead don’t care about manners, huh?’’ You arch your eyebrows with a grin that demonstrates anything but happiness. ‘’Miracle died. Sam digged a hole next to the bunker and buried him there. He isn’t the same since you died, you know? Not the deceased dog-- Well, he wasn’t the same either. Always whining and scratching your door like a fucking cat, and sniffing your old boots. He made me company in your bed and I whined as much as he did when you didn’t come back home that day. He stood by the door most days, waiting for you to appear. I can’t judge him, I did the same.’’ You shrug, not caring about how risible that confession may look. It's true. You became as irrational as a loyal dog at some point in this sorrow. ‘’And Sam, your baby brother… I think he died with you right there, Dean. He didn’t try to bring you back as he promised, but I shouted and screamed so much. I said I would burn the bunker and throw Baby over a cliff if he didn’t-- if he didn’t let me try. I lived up to the mad woman title.’’

You are crestfallen, pacing on top of where the eldest Winchester - Sam’s brand new nomination -  supposedly was buried. You know your boots barely touch an infected land, there's no deceased man under your steps. The dead thing is in you.

‘’I spent days dragging your body everywhere and nowhere, anywhere I could catch a crumb of relief in hope to bring you back. But I couldn’t. Jack could, but that ungrateful idiot doesn’t wanna follow his grandpa steps and get too attached to mere humans, the creation or whatever. As if we are just some skin and bone to him, as if you are just another human.’’

You sit down on the tombstone, some tender solace in being close to a thing that's supposed to represent him, like sleeping hugged to a pillow or waking up to a photograph of his. Your nails sink against the gelid concrete at the thought of screaming into the sky for the new God that seemed as deaf as the last one. His calm answer to your burning pain. How he dared to tell you he knew what he was doing— as if he was the original lord and not a three years old. You can't make him do it, so you hold on the fury of some overthrown nation.

‘’Anyway, I couldn’t bring you back. Your body, well, you know how human anatomy works. Your body started to smell like death. We tried to stop with human and magic ways, and it wouldn’t work because you were dead. You should’ve seen the doctor’s face when we got you in that fancy hospital tha night. I think we traumatized the doctor with so much violence and trauma. She didn’t even give us a false hope or anything, you know? She just asked about organ donation of what was left. She just wanted to take every little thing out of you, as if you were just another accident on a Tuesday night.’’ Your shake your head as the memories and your points start to mix, it's hard to discern things and keep a straight line when you have an open wound in your insides. ‘’Well, they couldn’t bring you back to life, and neither could Rowena or whatever I looked for. Don’t be mad because I tried, Winchester. You know I’m too stubborn for my own good. I had to try.’’ you refuse to apologize, yet adds the playful words in his eulogy. ‘’But then your body started to stink and God, how could I continue to be so violent to your corpse? That was when I decided to listen to you for the first time and to Sam, so I let you go. I hate you for asking that.’’ What an ambiguous, contradictory truth to bare. You are glimpses of a person for months because of Dean Winchester, still have the energy to argue his selfless logic, just to love him even more. He's got your devotion, but man you can hate him sometimes. ‘’I hate you for going on that stupid hunt. I hate you for being dead, you giant idiot that I love so much.’’ You can't bring your mouth to say loved. "I was always telling you to let the past go and now I’m in love with a dead thing. What a comic way to end our history. I told you that Miracle died, right? I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but I hope he’s in there with you. I wonder what your heaven is like. I bet it has Whiskey.''

Your dry chuckle makes your notice the tears in your eyes, glistening your orbs as they go like a waterfall to be absorbed by the thirsty land after leaving your cheeks.

"Sam and I-- We tried to make some sense out of this cruelty, but we can’t. You are dead and I can’t seem to put it past me. I still sleep in your bed, and I can still taste your body burning on the roof of my mouth in the quiet nights. I cried this morning because someone asked for a burger, can you believe that? It was so stupid since I used to shake my head and argue with you about cholesterol. Suddenly I was crying at lunch in a restaurant because some stupid kid asked for a burger with extra bacon. They sang Happy birthday to this dumbass child, and I interrupted with my awful crying, and wished that you were celebrating your birthday and not that kid. I guess you could say I wish death upon an innocent child with a problematic eating routine.’’ That was a whole new level of low, as if you are the one wrapped with the sentiment of laying six feet under.

‘’Everyone tells you about how grief is singular and particular with similar emotions that bring people who went through this together. They even have that crap stages thing and all that. You know what they don’t tell you?’’ Your mouth shuts for a moment, like you are waiting some response. You nod as if whatever you were expecting is handed to you. ‘’Grief can be fucking ridiculous. Who cries because of a burger full of oil and cardiac diseases? Who cries because they found a grocery store recipe under her dead boyfriend’s bed? Who falls on the ground screaming in the middle of the mall because they saw a flannel? Who? Those things are so stupid.’’ You smile like there's no tomorrow and the laugh leaving your lips is a treacherous tone. Perhaps you just aren't build up to express joy anymore. ‘’You see it in the movies and in the books and you think, you know, you think to yourself that grieving is being sad on special dates and randomly remembering the loved ones because of some screaming memory, like a flannel or their perfume. Thing is, it’s not just that. All your body seems so small, so tight for all the ache and agony inside it. Your senses go wild, you are not just one person in one place. You’re just the pain everywhere, like being pulled apart and you beg to jump in the fucking grave with them. At least you would be together, at least you would feel like one person and not suffering edges of a broken earthy thing. And--And you start remembering things you didn’t even know you had mesmerized. I look at the ceiling and remember you saying you’d paint it someday. I look at the kitchen and remember me screaming at you for giving Miracle the rest of the food. I smell Sam’s clothes and started crying because hey, they don’t smell like alcohol. You don’t iron them while drinking anymore, so of course they don’t smell like cheap beer.’’ You are chuckling through the tears and it only makes it more monstrous. ‘’Everything is you now that you are gone. Every man has something similar to you, every garden is green as your eyes, and each step sounds like you are coming home. They didn’t prepare me, not for this.’’ You said breathless. A soft single follows. The knife cuts both ways; the empty breeze and the words hurt. Where's the middle term? Where's the limbo? Where's the only safe place for you to rest your weary head?

Out of nowhere, you blurt out, ‘’I can’t masturbate,’’ I know it’s something stupid and even selfish to say, but I think you’d like to know. I can’t masturbate. That’s a part of the whole losing someone process that people are too ashamed to discuss, or maybe they don’t have the urge to be touched anymore because after someone you love dies, after someone-- the hands who touched are dead and cold, you become a haunted object. That’s how I feel most days, like I’m a haunted house because you touched me and now you’re dead and some days I believe I am too.’’ You look around the places. It's beautiful. It's lonely. It has trees and flowers and green. Not as green as Dean's eyes, but it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't even have eyes at this point. ‘’Well, I can’t masturbate. I can’t touch myself. And I can’t ask someone else either. I tried and ended up punching the guy, Dean. I swear. I panicked when he was between my legs and just punched his nose. You’d have liked it, you were always the jealous kind. I won’t admit that, but I thought it was kinda hot. Especially when you got possessive in sex.’’ A dirty grin appeared on your lips, the echoes of luxury lasting in your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’I don’t think I can be cared for anymore, honestly. Sam tried to hug me when Miracle died and I… It was like I wasn't there. I got frozen in time, and I live in my sleep. In my nightmares you are alive. I  dream about the day you died every week and I used to wake up screaming, but now those nightmares are the only proof you were alive now that you’re as dead as the police report says this time. It was the most painful, calamitous moment for you and I swear it was a nightmare for me, but then I realized that at least I had you there, egoistical or not, I made my nightmare into a dream.’’ You aren't sure which opinion Dean would have on that. Would he understand? Would he shake his head? You wish you can ask him just this one more thing, just beg him to write it down for you on how to be without him here.

You raise on your feet, glaring at the name craved in the concrete. The tears go by still, although they're as usual as the blood in glir veins at this point. ‘’Death is so silly. What it takes, anyway?" Each word conquers more inches of pure wrath. ''People die because they stumbled on their own feet and hit their head somewhere, or they drove their car too close and too fast to the cliff, or because they were giving birth, or because they dated the wrong person, or because they were hunting a fucking vampire and got impaled. What are the chances? How stupid, and idiotic is death? Always creeping and waiting to bite and chew a piece of you-- Taking every scrap of you from me like that’s its right.’’ You are screaming, starting to kick and punch the tombstone with any piece of straight you have. Your limbs hurt and the blood is visible, but you keep going. ‘’YOUR STUPID DOG DIED, DEAN! AND YOU DIED! AND I DIED! SAMMY DIED! YEAH, IS SAID SAMMY! GO AHEAD, TELL ME ONLY YOU CAN CALL HIM THAT.’’ Another punch, your knuckles are ripped. Another kick, your boot as a hole. ‘’DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.’’ Kick. ‘’SAMMY, SAMMY, SAMMY!’’ A punch to each name. Anything to get a reaction, to get comfort. Anything. ‘’YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.’’ Gasping for something you don't need anymore, sweet oxygen, your eyes are on the tombstone again. And the definitions. And the trees. Your body is sore and aching. It is the kind and coercion no person wants which you needed; the freedom of feeling outside the exact pain that was inside. ‘’You can’t because you are dead. I’ve been playing some sick games in my mind, you know? Sam stopped hunting and had his closure. He was always better at letting go than you and I, but he’s still hurting. I never saw him hurting so much. I think he knows you won’t come back this time, how could you make us promise something like that?  Well, my twisted game is a bunch of misleading what ifs. What if you hadn’t gone after John? What if you hadn’t gone on that last hunt? What if you had stayed with Lisa? At first I didn’t like her much. Jealous, I admit that. But she grew on me. She gave you something I couldn’t back then and I’ll always be thankful for that. And even though it would rip me apart, I’d rather you to die at sixth after living your suburban dream with her. Have another kid besides Ben, maybe a girl this time, and just have that apple pie life. You and Sam would live close and your kids would always play. They’d be as close as brothers. Maybe I’d get a guy and bring my own kids and we could’ve a barbecue and everyone would be happy. But we don’t get soft epilogues here. It ends how it starts, right? Bloody and desperate. I thought maybe, maybe Lisa could understand what’s going through my head now. I drove to her new address and parked close to her house. I must have spent hours there, thinking if I should come in or not, If she somehow remembered after Castiel died or if I could make her brain work again if I told her the truth. But then I just drove back home and fell asleep wrapped in that stupid lumberjack flannel of yours. The one I always mocked, yeah? She may understand me, but I know you wouldn’t want that. You want her, you want me and Sam to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that, Dean. It’s like myt brittle soul shrewd and my body is just waiting to collapse.’’ You signed, overwhelmed by the battle without an anthem. The victory with no triumph. Is it still a win when you don't have someone to come home too? ‘’Your dog died, it’s the first birthday you didn’t live to see, and I bought all the things you told Mrs Butters you wanted for your birthday because it’s your birthday. I just don’t know how to celebrate it with you dead. People stop counting after they die, right? They just say he’d have been 42 or he died at 41. They give melancholy smiles when they wake up and check the day on their phones and a woe atmosphere swallows them for the rest of the day. Then they get better the next day. I think everyday is your birthday.’’ You attempt to wipe away your tears, which only causes your pulsating hand to stain your face red. ‘’Dean, for the first time, what died stayed dead! Congrats.’’ Once again, a hysterical laugh. ‘’I wish but no. What died didn’t stay dead, you are alive, so alive in my head. I swear you are there some days. I wake and watch the door, so sure you’ll come back. Sam says I’m living in delusion and I have to wake up and keep going since that's what you would want. That's enough to make him keep going, but it only makes me angry. Everyone we know and some strangers looks at me like I'm a house on fire and no longer a warm home, like I'm a car accident. They think I don't notice but I do.’’ You look at your boots, the whole is rolling out blood like your hands. You feel closer to Dean. How sick.

‘’Help, I’m still right where you left me." You plea, his love lingering like a bruise. ''I think gravity is overwhelming and it keeps me here. Sometimes it’s like I’m one of those dusted books Sam used to read. Or those Bukowski ones that you hid, so we wouldn’t see how smart you’re. You tried so hard to hide your intelligence because you didn’t think you were entitled to it. You saw yourself as the protector and never the valuable one for protection. You, the man who made an EMF out of an old radio, who rebuilt the Impala from the ground multiple times, and who knew patterns better than any detective. The man who showed me I could rely on someone other than myself. The dude with a lopsided grin, tough hands and a heart of gold. I miss you so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing all those classic rock songs and Taylor Swift pop hits, while I drove here. I would think you were home, smelling like guts because you wanted to eat before taking a shower after a hunt. I would think that you are in the Deancave, waiting for me to curl up on your lap to watch Scooby Doo or Doctor Sexy MD until we aren’t watching anymore. If I didn’t know better I would think no death could take you from me. There would be no tear us apart in our vows.’’ The only thing that keeps your organism working is that Dean died knowing how much you loved him. You never let this talk for later or never. No tomorrow is promised. That's a nice comfort, maybe that's what will help you to let go in the future. ‘’But yesterday your stupid, skink dog died and I lost the last living thing that I had from you. You know what’s more angerting? I cried and Sam cried and I noticed we were the living things you left behind and all we have is each other. All your closets of backlogged dreams were left for us-- so yeah. Sam is done hunting and he’s met a lovely girl, and they are moving in like in your domestic dreams. I’m taking care of the family business like your other contradictory dream and making sure Sam is safe enough to be normal. Because I have to, we have too. Stupidly enough, I still wait for the day you’ll burst out the door and tell us to hit the road again. I still watch every episode of your dumb tv shows to make sure I’ll know everything that happened when you ask. I still drive around in your car and close my eyes when the street is calm, only picturing you driving as Baby’s engineers go wild but those are my hands on the steering wheel. If I didn't know better, I’d think you are still around. But I know better. I still feel you all around. I love you.’’

Your monologuing ends as astutely as it stated. You get up, press a kiss to your ruined for the next weeks hands and place it on the rock with writings. You turn around and walk back to the car that you parked near, only in case of Dean wanting to see Baby. How knows? You and your clandestine faith. You lick your lip and get in the car.

You swear you the AC/DC cassette wasn't there before, but when you turn on the car and the radio it starts playing. It's the first true smile that comes to your mouth, it's bloodstained and you look like a shameless woman. With that you can deal.

It hurts a bearable hurt for now. You didn't think it was possible. Maybe someday.

The end.

(she takes a little longer to arive in heaven than sammy. his baby brother says that women are most likely to live around six years more than men. it doesn't ease him up, though. dean waited sam for too long, his platonic soulmate. and now he has to wait his romantic one too? the eldest Winchester considers it the best earthly present when the he sense you around, that smell of orange and apples. it's you, he knows before even turning around. he can't wait to love you again. your name rolls off your tongue so naturally, as if you had seen each other just yesterday: ‘’hey, y/n.’’)

But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?

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Starburst's footnote: It just didn't feel right to make an author's note on the top. I wanted it all only to be an arrow to the story. So, this is my side note: it's six am and I'm up writing this after inspiration kissed me with a bruise in the middle of the night. Or more like grabbed my throat. Anyway, I had to write and finish this one to post today, even pushing sleep aside. Hey, we are writers, that's what we do! I've been watching the show since I was eleven and I cried like a baby with the finale. This series was just so important and crucial to molde aspects of relationships for me. The song marjorie by Taylor Swift was used here, and so was the line "you got my devotion/ but man, I can hate you sometimes" by Harry Styles. I told you guys I would use it somewhere! A special thanks to @msmarvelouswinchester​ who helped me with her encouraging and opinon. You are the best! And with all of this I wanna say: Happy bday, Dean Winchester!

REBLOG AND COMMENT! Feedback is magic! Especially about this fic, I’d like to know your opinion. Tags in the reblog! Send an ask or dm to get in the taglist.