big size clothing


What are your 3 favorite songs?

Mine are;
1. Buddy Holly - Weezer
2. Island in the Sun - Weezer
3. Feel Good, Inc. - Gorillaz

Enough Is Enough (addict!Sherlock x reader)

A/N: I thought of watching Sherlock today to get my inspiration back, and it worked!! Also I love the grey sweat pants on Sherlock, I don’t know why but I just do.

Warnings: Drugs, alcohol, fluff. And Mycroft. HAHA

You had been used to Sherlock’s quirks. Some of them happened on daily basis as others you encountered rarely enough to count them out. One of them was his drug addiction. You had witnessed it twice by now and it had been enough for you to form an opinion on your addicted partner. Yes, you called him your partner rather than boyfriend, it was the result of your conversation while you discussed your relationship status and even if it sounded like you were just as heartless and up tight as Mycroft Holmes it wasn’t true. You had always had mixed feelings for the word boyfriend, as you were an adult and so was Sherlock, so why call him that, when you could address him with something more appropriate. This of course didn’t surprise anyone, for they ha already wrapped their pretty little head around the fact that you and Sherlock were together and matched in a way no one could’ve ever imagined anyone to with Sherlock.

You didn’t complain about Sherlock’s drug use. You knew no one was a saint and he usually, or so he claimed to be, used when he needed. It was a bit obscure for someone to need to get high while working but Sherlock had always been different to say the least so you let it pass. Or tried to. Then there was the amount he had used at those previous times and you had to admit him being right those times. The amount had been so little you had suspected he had even taken all that for a case, but like always you let it go. But this time wasn’t the same.

You had stayed over the night at Baker Street, at Sherlock’s flat and just like every other time, you slept longer than Sherlock. You always had his word for sleeping next to him, but rarely did so, or had tried not to, knowing he wasn’t one to cuddle and even once fell off the bed when you had moved too close for his liking in his sleep. An argument had erupted from that as you had declined his suggestion of saying over the second time and sleeping with him in his bed. You had told him you could sleep on the couch, the night had closed in and Sherlock, wether he admits it or not, didn’t want you wondering about London alone in the nights after the ’study in pink’ cabby incident he had years ago. You told he you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by sleeping close to him to which he answered he had moved in his sleep, not being able to control his movements. You had given into his command on staying and sharing the bed, but had tried to keep still the whole night. Good thing you could control your body while sleeping if you really concentrated on it. Sherlock on the other hand had been clinging on you the whole night, trying to prove you he could let you get close to him, and as you were both adults you had another fight.

From there on you avoided even talking about sleep. When you did stay over longer than supposed to, you faked you had fallen asleep on the couch while Sherlock was distracted by work. It never took you too long to actually fall asleep, before Sherlock went to bed or after, it always depended how soon after you had drifted off he’d go to bed, but always he pulled a blanket over you before heading off to his room. Sometimes you could hear him grunt when he noticed you sleeping and you could tell he would’ve wanted to sleep with you at those nights, but you still kept this act up, until Sherlock came up by his own tactic to evade this problem. He started to take his work to his bed and since you were helping him and assisting you couldn’t deny him for doing so or even circle around his sly way of getting you to sleep next to him by nights. You didn’t last long on his comfy bed with all the papers and text you had to read in the dimly lit room, your eye lids growing heaving sooner when you did your work in his bedroom, but that didn’t stop him from doing so. He was only humored by your little game and you being too polite and plain bored of all this playing and games let it be.

Last night had been the same for you, you had fallen asleep after two hours of work, face first falling on the cushions, next to the papers you had just been trying to read and memorize. Sherlock had noticed your tiredness before your eyes started closing and he eyed you, humored by your tries to stay awake until you lost your inner battle and fell asleep. He always lay a duvet over your body,  pulling the blankets aside before getting to work with you since he knew you would drift off before him and now had no problem with tugging you in. And after an hour or two doing the same, laying next to you and pulling you close to him under the covers.

You woke up in an empty bed, the side next to you cold by now while you tried the empty space with your hand, patting the mattress. You heard sounds from the living room and kitchen area and were sure Sherlock was on to something. He didn’t make much noise, knowing you’d wake up if he was to make a racket, trying quietly go through the cabinets for clothes and what ever he would be needing. He had already had tea, Mrs. Hudson always made two cups for the both of you but hadn’t yet found out Sherlock was usually the one emptying the cups as you were still fast asleep.

You rolled on to your back, stretching your hands upwards to reach the ceiling and a pleasurable smirk spreading on your lips. There was nothing better than a good morning stretch and you were sure no one would be to disagree with that. Your legs and toes tensed and you tried to get the best of your morning work out, tossing and turning on the bed as you tried to get the stimulation to other parts in your body. The thin blanket around you wrapped around you when you rolled and when you went to get up you nearly fell. You had been now entirely tied up by the sheet, but able to pry it off of you you tossed the sheet on the bed in a bundle and scouted to pick your clothes from the floor. You always slept in a top or a shirt at Sherlock’s, not sure how he’d react if he’d find you topless next to him in the morning and not really looking forward to that you kept as much clothes on as you could. Now you pulled you pants and socks on and let your hands go through your hair. You gazed at the bed before opening the door. Right then Sherlock dashed by you, entering his room with a quick good morning and went through the papers you had studied just yesterday. You told him the same and went to the living room, taking comfortable position on his chair. You knew he didn’t mind you doing so, at least when he was leaving the apartment. You knew well enough from his hurried movement that he was on to something with his previous case and would leave the apartment in any second now.

You took the tea cup next to the chair that was companied with an empty one, yours half way through, but still warm enough for you to finish. You always enjoyed those mornings when you could just watch everyone else making a rush, hurrying to work and you could just sit by and look. Unfortunately the tea tasted plain for your liking, but you sipped all of it anyways. You wiggled your toes inside of your socks on the chair, the cool fabric trying to break through the clothes. You loved Sherlock’s chair. It looked nice and it felt soft and comfy. Pity you didn’t get to sit on it often.

Sherlock came from his room not looking towards you, his whole body covered in two sizes too big clothing. He had grey sweat pants and a dark blue hoodie, the hood being pulled over his shaggy hair when he hurried to the stairs and called for you, informing he’d go out now to work on a case to which you answered wishing him good luck. The door closed right behind him with a soft bang and the flat was filled with silence. You waited a second, then two trying to control yourself. You had seen him in those clothes before and it always made your stomach turn. Nothing good ever followed when he went out dressed like that and it made you sad and disturbed. You thought of calling Mycroft and asking him to send someone to keep an eye on his little brother but knew Sherlock would notice right away if someone would be to follow him. Also there was John, but you figured not to bother him so you decided to just wait it out.

The day went by slowly and you couldn’t help but keep thinking what Sherlock was doing right now. You hoped for the best and that he wouldn’t disappear for days or weeks on his mission. You would hate that to happen since you knew you wouldn’t hesitate to call someone on his ass if he’d be out longer than a day or so. He hadn’t mentioned how long he’d be out, maybe to evade you from questioning or he really didn’t know. This made your mind go nuts, making all these alternate future possibilities where he’d come home after a week or being found and brought to hospital or even worse. You shook your head at your imagination going wild and decided to do something that would take your mind off of Sherlock.

It had been about eight hours now that Sherlock had left and you started to get bored. He hadn’t asked you to wait for him so you were free to leave, but wishful thinking of him finding his way back home kept you there. Now you were second guessing your decision, but couldn’t leave just yet before eating. You had started to feel hungry, the last time you ate was three hours ago. You were just getting to the kitchen when you heard the front door open and shouting filling the flat. You went to the door that gave you a view of the hallway and the stairs and saw Sherlock and John.

”I told you I’m clean!” Sherlock shouted frustratedly waving his hands in the air. His hair was still a mess but his face had changed. There were circles under his eyes and he looked like he had been up the whole last night, then again you didn’t know had he been, but at the morning as much as you had seen him, which was not much, he had looked normal to you.

”You don’t look clean to me and I’m a bloody doctor!” John snapped back as he pulled the door close behind him with a loud bang. He eyed Sherlock with a nasty scowl and leaned close to him, trying to intimidate his taller friend who was not impressed by his though act, more humored than taken aback. ”I have told you countless of times not to do this to yourself, and I’m saying it again, STOP DOING THIS IT WON’T HELP YOU ACHIEVE ANYTHING!” His voice echoed in the staircase and you flinched at the sudden change of volume. Sherlock on the other hand didn’t move a muscle and glared at his friend. ”And I’ve said I haven’t taken anything!” He shouted in John’s face.

”Oh don’t pull that shit with me, Sherlock.” John mused, but his voice was deceiving. It was clear that he was far from amused by the situation at hand. He just used sarcasm often. He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Sherlock, trying to get glimpses of him that would give away how mush he had taken by now. Sherlock had covered himself well enough for it wasn’t evident what and how much he had taken, but that didn’t make John stop. ”You could’ve called me! You have any idea what it will be to explain to everyone how you almost ended up in the hospital for over dose?”

”That has happened before.” Sherlock muttered as if it changed anything. ”And who said you have to explain this to anyone? I haven’t taken anything and it was a misunderstanding. I am clear.” Sherlock stated calmly and headed up the stairs, John right behind him, yelling, ”I’m not covering up for you only because you claim to be clear! You should thank me for not calling Mycroft on your arse by now!”

You took a step away from the door, getting back to the kitchen. You waited for Sherlock and John to arrive to the living room and as they did John looked at you worriedly while Sherlock tried to play it cool. ”Oh, you’re still here, good, I were in a need of assistance.” Sherlock said and looked around, searching for something or he was to restless to keep up the eye contact and stay put. ”I’m leaving.” You announced and took you jacket that had been laying on the backside of John’s arm chair. You pulled it over yourself and passed through the two men without saying another word. You were fuming from rage. This was the last drop. John had stepped aside, his eyes wide and body tense as he sensed your silent rage, he was married for god’s sake and knew when a man was in trouble and this was it. Of course he would be the one explaining this to Sherlock after you had left.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea to get hammered after encountering your partner in that state, but you needed to clear your head so you went to a bar far from Baker Street just in case John would wonder around. You offered a shot and a big drink, with a one sip finishing the shot and hitting the bottom of it to the table. The drink you drank slower, sipping it slowly and trying to enjoy the taste but soon gave up on enjoying the drink and instead started ordering liquors that tasted bad but strong. You didn’t stay long, after three drinks you started to feel bad enough to leave the bar. You were alms home, but decided to avenge Sherlock’s way of ruining your day by calling a cab. You knew he weren’t there to see you get into the cab and would probably never know of it, but you felt good going behind his back and rebelling.

When you got home it was almost 11pm and you decided to go to bed, taking your shoes and jacket off, but leaving all the other clothes on for the lack of care. You would be undressing yourself in your sleep if needed to. Not even bothering on checking your phone or that did it even have any power left you let yourself fall face first on the bed, pulling the blanket over your body. You curl up and let tears fall over your cheeks as the alcohol has started to wear off. You felt bad for going drinking and for letting Sherlock get under your skin like that. You had known this would happen sooner or later, you’d seen it before and still here you are, crying. You would have probably hit yourself by now if weren’t too sleepy so you concentrated on trying to stop crying and try to get some rest.

You woke up early the next morning, your head felt dizzy but not too bad. Your stomach was also turning but you could handle it. You just needed a minute or two for it to calm down. Your body and mind protested against getting up just yet but you graved for your phone and when you finally found it from the pocket of your jacket you saw there were five missed calls and twelve messages. All the calls were from John, the text too. He apologized for you having to see Sherlock in that state and he asked how you were. On one of them he told you he had recommended Sherlock not to try contact with you since it wouldn’t end well for him or you. One of the messages had arrived an hour ago. There he asked were you okay and safely home, and to this you answered by informing him you were home and just woke up. He was relieved that you texted back, but then he opened up a conversation your were not ready for.

John texted you that he had indeed called Mycroft after you left yesterday, who had informed Sherlock that leaving his apartment wasn’t even an option for him since now some of Mycroft’s henchmen were keeping an eye on the flat twenty-four seven. He told you if you wanted to see Sherlock it would be up to you, letting you know he couldn’t get to you by himself if you didn’t count phones that is. You of course had no desire of seeing him which John understood but still tried to bend you to go over there, not necessarily today but soon. Sherlock would appreciate it he assured you. As your texting came to an end, John needing to get to work you received a message. From Sherlock this time. He asked were doing anything particular today to which you stated coldly, I’m not coming over. And put your phone away.

You didn’t intend to leave your house and you were already half way through it, when your phone informed you of a message. You looked at the screen and was from Mycroft. It said, Go visit him before he does something stupid, he’s becoming impossible to keep inside the house and I can’t have the press finding out he’s using again. you sighed at his way of not dancing around the problem and how he was always able to get you do what he wanted, and then another text message came from Mycroft. The car will be there in two minutes. You groaned. Why had he always need to be so pushy? You were thankful it was Sherlock you dated instead of Mycroft.

The car pulled over your house when the two minutes had passed and you had to admit that maybe Mycroft had problem with being in control of everything like Sherlock always suggested. You climbed in the car, greeting Mycroft’s little henchmen girl that was texting back to his boss of the trip over to the Baker Street. You didn’t bother by chatting with her as you knew well enough it would only irritate you or the girl wouldn’t even answer to half of your questions. When finally the ride was over the car left. You hesitated for awhile. You could maybe try and flee but as your thoughts went through your head you received a message. Don’t even think about it.

You sighed and went for the door, opening it and getting inside. You heard noise from upstairs and a familiar voice yelling, ”I’m still here as you know, but I will find a way out soon enough.” You shook your head and gazed about the lobby. It was dark and gloomy, you wanted so bad to just leave and not come back but you knew Mycroft wouldn’t have that. You had no choice but to do as he said, you taking the first step on the stairs as you answered to Sherlock with a loud voice, ”Good to know I didn’t come here for nothing.” And the living room upstairs grew silent. Soon Sherlock’s head peeked from the end of the stairs and he smiled at you. You walked up the stairs, keeping your distance even if he tried to bring you close to a hug.

”I’m here because your brother forced me to come. Don’t get any ideas.” You said and walked past him and sat on the long couch facing the fire place, the one you slept on at times. Sherlock followed you, but instead of sitting on his chair he sat next to you on the couch, close enough for your knees to touch. He was wearing his pajamas, purplish pants and a white shirt, his blue robe covering his arms which you were thankful of. You didn’t want to think how his arms looked like. You knew well enough there would be see through needle marks and even the thought made you sick to your stomach and to top it all you had been drinking last night.

”I would’ve appreciated it if you had stayed yesterday.” Sherlock said. ”I really needed your help with finishing the case.” He coldly explained. You could only see glimpses of him from yesterday every time you turned to look at him and it irritated you. He leaned closer and made you want to move further away from him, but didn’t. You knew he’d only grab onto you and pull you back to him if you did try to leave and there was Mycroft of course. You had to stay and try to solve this situation soon somehow if you wanted to get home before dark. You turned towards Sherlock. ”I couldn’t look at you when you were in that state.” You stated coldly.

”You have seen me in that state before.” Sherlock reminded, but earned a scowl from you and a scoff. You held your head high and snapped, ”You have never been in that deep. You’ve usually taken just a little or just smoked.” You narrowed your eyes. ”There is only enough I can take and you crossed it. I don’t need to bare everything just for your career.” This shut Sherlock up for a minute until he wondered out loud, ”You were worried about me?” You fixed your position and nodded your head. ”Well, I had never seen you in that deep.” You admitted. ”You went drinking.” He deduced. You hit his shoulder and glared at him. ”Yes, and who’s fault it that?” You asked and were sure Sherlock was about to tell you how he couldn’t care less for your pity on him and your emotions but instead looked down at his feet. The air got caught in your throat as you saw him regretting?

”I- I’m sorry, (Y/n).” And he turned to look at you, his eyes shining in the light that pooled into the living room from behind his back, from the window next to his desk. He pulled you to a hug and for a second you didn’t know what to do. Should you hug him back or just freeze? ”I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never want to do that for you.” Something in his words pinched your heart and you gripped the back of his robe, pulling him closer. ”Just please, stop doing that, Sherlock.” You whispered, about to start sobbing. ”I will, for you.” He whispered back. You held each other for a couple of minutes before Sherlock pulled away, he smirked at you and said, ”You still have to make yesterday up to me.” You pulled even further away from him and playfully narrowed your eyes at him, questioning him, ”Me?”

”Yes, you did take a cab at night even if I have specifically told you not to.” You didn’t even bother to ask him how he knew that so you just decided to roll your eyes at him. ”Also, I still need your help with the case.” He said and stood up, walking over to his desk and scooping up a pile of papers. You sat there and he came over to you, handing you the pile and going to take one for himself too, then heading towards his bedroom and calling for you, ”Come now.” You sighed. Here you go again. You’d have to stay at least over the night.

alittlegirldreams  asked:

Hiii! I was wondering if you knew of any good stores for classy clothes for bigger women?

Yes I sure do!

Girl, my go to stores are Torrid, Rebdolls, and Lane Bryant (because they’re basic and easily accessible)

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Recently I even found some nice dresses and such at Neiman Marcus!

For something more upscale, then you should totally check out these designers:

Adrianna Papel
Bella Rene
Dominique Auxilly
Domino Dollhouse
Lafayette 148
Rue 107
Shavonne Dorsey
Tadashi Shoji.

Remember, sometimes it’s not even about the price tag! You can find some great affordable clothing at regular retail stores and still look snatched to the gods!

Stay beautiful babe!



Top/Macy’s Women’s Apparel/23.49$/Up to 3X
Skirt/Forever 21 Plus/14.90$/Up to 3X
Shoes/Torrid/19.99$/Up to 13
Bow/Bealls Outlet/5.99$

Honeymustard Collection 20

With a cherry on top!

Last installation - thanks everyone for such a wonderful time! Love ya - every one!

Red woke to warmth and the faintest humming, starting in his ribcage and spreading out to each phalange tip. He kept his eye sockets closed for a while, savoring the comfortable darkness. Man, this felt good. Like a hot bath. Some part of him wished he could stay like this forever…probably the same part that knew how much it was going to hurt once he woke fully. Yeah, that wasn’t going to be fun – Boss had really torn into him, hadn’t he? Suppose he deserved it though for running off like that. Shit, between Boss and Stretch Red had managed to disappoint every monster he loved…

Red twitched, muggy thoughts jolting a bit.


Memories of his last few minutes of consciousness curled on the cold concrete of his gutted bedroom fought to the forefront of his thoughts. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Had Stretch really…? Shit. SHIT! No way had that ended well for Stretch. Fuck, if Boss found him in their timeline he’d tear Papyrus bone from bone!

Casting aside concern for the pain that was sure to come once Red forced himself from this dim, warm place, Red took a little breath and cracked an eye socket. His surroundings came together slowly – drawn curtains, dark room…and a hunched figure beside his mattress, back turned to where Red lay on his side. Was that…Boss? He was muttering something, shoulders and skull all but silhouetted by a small globe of orange light he appeared to be cradling in his lap. Red attempted another hitched breath, pupils wavering as he lifted a hand quietly to his ribcage.

Oh, fuck…

His soul was displaced. Boss didn’t usually like touching Red’s soul – he found it disgusting – so why would he…?

The figure shifted and the light changed a bit, revealing a sloped jaw, smooth skull, and oversized orange hoodie. Red immediately relaxed his clutched phalanges from his ribs just as another wave of warmth passed over him. He all but melted into the mattress, eye sockets sliding half shut in pleasure, the tension in his aching bones unwinding like a long breath.



Red knew this feeling. Stretch had bubbled his soul in an orb of his healing magic, brow furrowed, hands cupped, gently coaxing Red’s scarred, stuttering heart still while he worked. Red blinked – now that he thought about it…there wasn’t any pain. From his cracked sternum to his split kneecaps the only feeling in his bones was warmth and comfort. Wow…definitely…not what he’d been expecting. How had Stretch…?

Red stopped himself from sitting up, holding his breath a bit when Stretch’s muttering voice became a little clearer. He was speaking low and fast, like an intonation or chant or something. Red strained to hear him, the rising happiness in his chest dampened a bit when he finally understood – Stretch was saying “sorry”…over and over, no stopping for breath, no fluctuation in his raspy voice, no break in his concentration. Just:

“I’m sorry I didn’t come find you sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel like you could stay here with me. I’m sorry I didn’t sit with you when I knew you weren’t feeling okay. I’m sorry I can’t heal you better, or make you feel safe, or keep you smiling all the time, or stop your nightmares, or get rid of your scars. I’m sorry I’m not the best person to help you and there’s times when I just…don’t know what to do – and I’m sorry that when you left…all I could think about was myself and how terrible I felt when I should have been thinking about you. I’m sorry that I…”

Red swallowed, wondering if Stretch could feel his soul surely growing heavier in the taller skeleton’s hands. God, Pap looked exhausted. How long had he been going at this? And how long before that had he been working on the machine that made the leap into Red’s timeline possible? And how long before that had he been kept awake after Red had…vanished without as much as a goodbye?

Stretch’s skull bobbed with fatigue – his shoulders shook. A series of little incoherent noises interrupted Pap’s steady apologetic stream. Shit, was he…crying? Red propped himself up on his elbow, wincing as some remnant pain broke through whatever healing protection Papyrus had set in place. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What should he do? After a frantic moment of hesitation Red reached out a hand to tug at the orange sleeve of Papyrus’s hoodie.


No response.

Red lifted himself to his knees, gritting his teeth against the sting as he pulled himself up beside the taller skeleton. He pressed into Papyrus’s shoulder, resting one hand on Pap’s spine and ghosting the other over his phalanges where they were cupped around Red’s soul in his lap.

“Hey, Pap?”

Papyrus blinked slowly, his repentant mantra fading out. He turned his head slightly to look at the smaller skeleton now tucked against his side, pupils unfocused with magic depletion.

“Oh,” Papyrus said, voice small, “…you’re awake.”

Red attempted a smile but immediately dropped the effort when rolling tears welled up and over Papyrus’s eye sockets, tracing wet lines down his cheekbones unchecked. Red could feel Stretch absolutely shaking and when he spoke his voice was all but incoherent for how much it broke.

“Red, I’m sorry. F-fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Hey…” Red pressed his hand over Pap’s mouth, cutting him off. “Hey!”

They stayed like that for a moment, Red completely frozen and Stretch’s pupils lit with a wild, desperate magic. Fuck…what was he supposed to do? Red wanted to apologize, more than anything he wanted to just apologize – for making such a dumb fucking decision and leaving Papyrus that way. For freezing up every time Stretch so much as fucking kissed him. For being all but incapable of returning or even accepting Pap’s affection. For being…so fucking broken…it would be easy to apologize for all that – but…

“You know,” Red muttered, “some numbskull once told me…that regret, and misery, and guilt…doesn’t do anyone any good. Some touchy-feely bullshit, right?”

The light in Papyrus’s eyes calmed a little.

He lifted Red’s hand from his mouth with a soft touch on the smaller skeleton’s wrist and leaned in to kiss the crown of his skull, then his brow, then his mouth. Red let out a slow breath, watching his soul held loosely in Stretch’s other hand pulse a little brighter with every kiss.

It was a good start.



“…hang on.”

“Okay, but I don’t think he can wait much longer…”

“Okay, okay!”

Red tried to keep himself from wringing his hands and failed immediately. His stomach was in knots and he felt like an idiot standing in Papyrus’s two sizes too big borrowed clothes in the middle of his bedroom facing a closed door. Stretch leaned nonchalantly beside the doorframe, one hand on the knob, the other tucked in his front hoodie pocket. He cocked a brow at Red.

It’d been a whole week since Red had come back and the entire time he’d been quarantined in Pap’s bedroom so he could heal. His ribs still ached a bit and he boasted a few new scars from his most recent encounter with his old timeline, but his soul shone stronger than ever and Stretch had told him he was pretty sure Sans was going to “pull a muscle” if he had to wait any longer to meet the monster Papyrus kept going on about.

“Okay,” Red took a deep breath, “I’m ready.”

Stretch gave a resolute nod.

“Might wanna brace your knees,” he said flatly, and turned the knob.

“Why would I – oomph!”

Red was nearly bowled over backwards when what appeared to be a short blue ball rocketed into the room and immediately snared him in a rib-crushing hug. Sans, or “Blue,” as Papyrus called his younger brother, wore a grin big enough to crack his skull in two and he practically had stars in his bright, wide eyes.

“Oh my gosh! You really do look like me! Papy, doesn’t he kinda look like me? Oh, right – hi, I’m Sans! You’re Red – oh, sorry, I already knew that! I like your tooth! You smell like smoke – do you smoke like my brother? That’s not good for your health, Red! But don’t worry, me and Papy will look after you now, right Papy?”

Stretch kinda nodded lazily where he was draped against the wall – though in agreement to what part of Sans’s hyper babble Red wasn’t entirely sure.

“Oh my gosh!” Sans all but shouted, releasing Red as suddenly as he’d grabbed him. “I’ll make some hot cocoa! Do you like hot cocoa, Red? Never mind, of course you do! Wait right here, I’ll be right back!”

He bolted off, taking the corner from Papyrus’s bedroom fast enough to slide on the carpet before darting from view. Red readjusted his shirt, not sure if he wanted to focus on regaining his breath first or just laugh. Wow…Stretch really hadn’t been exaggerating, had he?

“Doesn’t anyone in this timeline have a personal bubble?” Red growled, shooting Stretch what he attempted to make a disgruntled scowl.

Pap shrugged, smiling as he pulled a cigarette from his hoodie pocket and pushed himself off the wall.

“Heh - just you. Coming?”

Red didn’t even try to hide his smile as he followed after Stretch.

anonymous asked:

❌ 👕 🎭

❌ - OC in something they would absolutely never wear

🎭 - OC in another OC’s typical attire

A style-swap between my OC, Marley, and @thelastspeecher‘s OC Angie. I guess it’s kind of a cop-out, but Angie’s attire is also the kind of thing Marley wouldn’t wear.

This drawing also gives a rare glimpse of Marley’s tattoos, which usually don’t show bc they like wearing long sleeves because I’m lazy and normally don’t feel like drawing tattoos.

(I’ll add a drawing with the third emoji later, I just couldn’t wait to post this one, bc I really like it)

Send me a character and an emoji

Business idea:

There is an incredible amount of money to be made in plus size fashion. 

If you simply created clothes similar to Topshop, H&M, Zara etc but in plus sizes, the money would come pouring in, there’s such a huge audience for it. 

Believe it or not, fat people don’t want to wear floral bin bags all day, we do actually like the clothes in ‘normal sized’ shops.