Consider the following: sonic getting up late every night to press his ear to genos' chest just to hear the soft buzz of his core. He's making sure he's not hallucinating genos being there, or stops being there.
Consider the following: you don’t break my heart with sad shit.
But also; Sonic running his hand through Genos’ hair, tracing the line of his jaw, letting his fingers hover just over those eyelids that hide the piercing golden gaze he’s come to love. Keeping his touch feather light as he strokes those plump, soft lips.
Sonic who needs to feel the kid’s breath too, to make sure that Genos is alive, not a hallucination, not dead, not an android he’s somehow bought with his insane amount of assassin money. Sonic who listens to the thrumming of Genos’ core but also threads his fingers through the lax mechanical ones. Who breathes deep and matches his breathing to the cyborg’s, rubs his thumb on the back of a metal hand and let’s himself have this little bit of peace and happiness as he drifts back to sleep.
The request: Can you please write a
comfort fic with Jared and Jensen and Misha in a Con setting? There was an
incident [which shall be unnamed] in my life not long ago that left me pretty
far down the black hole.
So this is for one of my amazing
followers, who have asked to remain anonymous, and we talked about this fic
back and forth for quite some time before I agreed to write it.
Now, I do not feel incredibly
comfortable writing about real people, but I will make an exception this time,
because I want to help make my anonymous follower’s day a little bit better.
The ugly/good thoughts quote is from
Roald Dahl’s The Twits, but I didn’t write it word for word. Oh, and please forgive me for any inaccuracies - I’ve never been to a con, so this is pure imagination.
Word count: 3098
It was a dream come true. Y/N had
saved and saved, and finally, she had enough money to get the full experience
of a con. And not any con; a
Supernatural con – the one thing she had dreamed of since she’d learned about
the existence of such wonders a couple of years after the show had started.
Sitting alone at a table, eating a
cream cheese bagel and watching people go by, people like her, people she
shared so much love with, made her smile. Sure, she was there by herself, but
she didn’t care. The SPN family was widely known for being inclusive and tight
knit, and it didn’t matter that most of her friends though she was a lunatic
for even thinking about “wasting” all her money on a show that was nothing but
vampires and man tears anyway.
Today is the last day at work for one of our art directors who has worked at my company for 15 years and I’m trying not to freak out because it leaves us with some serious leadership gaps for my team and basically it’s just really hard for me to get off my couch right now
I used a random number generator for the number prompt thing and it gave me walking dead, robots/ai, and kiss, so have fun with that? (preferably for omgcp, but I don't care what ship). Thanks!
You chose: walking dead, robots/ai, kiss
Eric Bittle was dead.
The last thing he remembered was the panicked honking of a truck horn, then dazzling red-black and an unshakable feeling of heaviness he knew in the pit of his stomach was the end.
It’s surprise, then, when he wakes up to a pair of clear, blue eyes hovering over him, regarding him coolly and clinically. His mouth tasted like sawdust and iron and his “where am I?” came out as a hoarse croak. The man was beautiful, all high cheekbones and square jaw.
“You are in Atlanta, Georgia,” the man with the blue eyes replied, but there was something oddly mechanical in his voice. Before Bitty could think too hard, the man continued. “A nanite virus reanimated and repaired your corpse. In this way, the virus created an army to replicate itself at an exponential rate. I am an android, Model JZ, Mark I, designed to neutralize the nanite threat. You have been flushed of the virus.”
Bittle could feel himself blinking rapidly, trying to process the man… android’s… words. “I… I was dead?”
The man blinked. “Correct.”
“But now I’m alive?”
Bitty’s chest tightened in what was probably panic and shock, but burst with a frantic joy that had him grabbing the back of the android’s head and laying one on its cool, unmoving lips.
“Sorry,” Bitty murmured once he got ahold of himself, embarrassed. “Gosh, I usually at least know a guy’s name before I kiss him,” he joked weakly.
“You are emotional. There is no need to apologize.” The android paused for a moment, thoughtful. “You may call me Jack.”
Important note to self: you are doing GOOD with Cora
This past week with a brand new puppy has been a bit of an adventure. There are teeth marks on my hands– and my shoes– and there have been, it sometimes seems like anyway, almost as many puddles indoors as outdoors.
And since my friend brought home Cora’s sister, it’s really hard not to compare their progress. Jeff, my friend and Cora’s sister Maggie’s owner, talks about Maggie so differently than I talk about Cora. Maggie is learning house training faster, apparently, and is biting hands less. She’s been out more in public and rides in the car better. It’s easy to say to myself, “wow, Jeff is doing a way better job with Maggie than I am with Cora.”
But what this IGNORES is the fact that Jeff is one member of a family of four kids and two adults, and spends basically two to three waking hours with Maggie, compared to the ten to twelve waking hours I spend with Cora while raising and training her virtually by myself. Every night he comes home from work and his wife and kids have exhausted Maggie. He has missed all the puddles she made, and teeth marks she left, during the excitement of the day. And when he interacts with her, they are precious moments to both of them at the end of a long day, instead of the realities of spending ten hours with a puppy, which are that the peeing, biting neediness inevitably gets old and you just want to eat your lunch in peace. Jeff disciplines by spanking Maggie, I discipline with a firm “no” and a redirect, and encouraging positive behavior. Jeff vaccinated Maggie himself and is leaving Cora’s fecal exam to decide if Maggie needs to be wormed, and Cora has an expensive, comprehensive puppy plan at the best vet in town. Cora eats the best puppy food I could find, Maggie eats Pedigree. And from what I’ve seen, the “progress” Jeff brags about doesn’t seem to be true. When I’m with Maggie, she bites my hands and pees on my floor just as much, or more, than Cora.
Cora is also– and here’s my biggest victory– crate training REALLY well. Just now I needed to study. And that’s hard to do with a puppy making her best efforts to eat your highlighter. So I spent 15 minutes playing hard with Cora, took her outside until she asked to go in, and then stuck her in her crate, where she has stayed perfectly silently and obediently since then. She’ll cry if she needs to potty, but she will stay in the crate as long as I ask of her. And she is only 8 weeks and two days old.
So Cora’s not perfect. And neither am I. Sometimes I miss cues to take her outside. Sometimes I leave her in her crate too long. Sometimes I am tired from work and I don’t take her outside to romp as much as I should, or play with her as genuinely as Jeff plays with Maggie. And Jeff is doing a good job with Mags. He loves her, and takes her on better adventures than Cora gets to go on.
I wonder what you’re supposed to do if you still love it but everyone else kinda hates it/is fed up with it......just go back to being alone and don’t do the sns spazzing anymore? That sounds kinda hard.....