by the damn mustard

GOT7: seeing you dressed up for the first time

I never wear dresses, either, unless it’s for a special occasion. I like to sit in positions dresses just don’t accommodate, so what can you do


Mark thinks you look fantastic no matter what you’re wearing, but would really enjoy seeing you in something you don’t usually wear. A smile brighter than every star in the universe would dominate his face as he gently takes your hand, pulling you close to him. “You look amazing, Y/N,” he’d say as he continues to gaze at you, utterly wonderstruck. He’d take this opportunity to document the special occasion through countless selfies and candids of you walking beside him. Would probably show these pictures to everyone he knew and brag about how much he loves you


Jaebum, too, thinks you look hot in literally anything. Like, you could be wearing sweatpants and an old mustard-stained tee shirt but damn, you’re hot. When he sees you all dressed up for the first time, though, he’s rendered speechless.  Unable to look away, he’d rub the back of his neck almost nervously before walking up to you, his hands coming to rest on your waist before leaning in and kissing you. “You look amazing, babe,” he’d mutter with his lips brushing your ear ever so lightly


Jinyoung would break for a second upon seeing you in a dress for the first time. His mouth would hang slightly agape, his eyes fixated on you. Shaking his head to snap himself out of his trance, he’d take your hand and bring it up to his mouth to kiss it, his eyes never wavering in their contact with yours. “You look like a princess, Y/N,” he’d say, a soft smile turning his lips up. He’d be unable to look away from you the whole time you were together. You’d catch him gazing at you unabashedly more than a few times


Jackson would freeze for a second when he first say you in a dress. It’d pass as quickly as it came, though, and all of a sudden you’re being showered in compliments as he spins you around to see the dress at every angle. He’s torn between wanting to show you off to the world and wanting to keep you all to himself, and he voices each and every one of these thoughts. Finally, he’d take your hand in his and practically drag you to wherever you were going, stopping random people in their paths and asking, “Isn’t she beautiful? She’s my girlfriend. I’m so happy.” 


Youngjae is having the time of his life. On an ordinary day, he’ll still think you’re the prettiest human being on the planet, but seeing you all dressed up is making his heart hurt. His smile would burst across his face before he even realized it, a shy laugh slipping past his lips as he looks at you, awestruck. “You look so beautiful,” he’d say softly, planting a kiss on your cheek. He’d probably take your hand and dance with you at random times during the day, spinning you around and beaming, because he can’t get over how amazing you look


Bambam would be in the middle of a sentence when suddenly he saw you in a dress and all of a sudden, he forgets whatever he was saying and stutters out random vowels for a straight minute, his body frozen. Finally, he snaps out of it and rushes over to you, his hands on your waist as he plants kisses all over your face five times over. “Wow. You look… wow,” would be the only thing he’d be able to say for the time being. Expect him to take a million selfies with you and to catch him taking photos of you when he thought you weren't’ looking 


Yugyeom would immediately smile so wide you thought his face would spilt in half because of it. He’d gently cup the sides of your face and lean in, kissing you, before pulling back and saying, “You always look so amazing, Y/N.” Smirking playfully, he’d take your hand and spin you around like a princess before pulling you back to him and dancing slowly with you, no matter where you were. 

anonymous asked:

yellow!!! always yellow

i’ve gotten like 3 requests for yellow so here you go!

“if you were a color,” you told shawn seriously, “you’d be yellow.”

“really,” he replied dubiously, taking a swig of wine straight from the bottle he’d brought.

you reached inside the picnic basket for one of the turkey sandwiches you’d hastily assembled that morning. “yes, really. i put a lot of scientific research and thought into this. don’t you agree?”

“i don’t know, i’m feeling more of, like, a dark green or something sexy, like, red,” he told you. he shifted closer and sprawled out across the checkered blanket, which he was too tall for, so his hair mingled with the park grass at the edge of the blanket. you grinned down at him before biting into your sandwich and he squinted up at you through his sunglasses, obviously fighting the bright sunlight.

“nah, i think you’re yellow. you’re almost always happy, but even when you’re not, yellow doesn’t necessarily mean happy,” you pointed out.


“no, it can be, like, calm, like a butter or honey yellow. or it can be thoughtful. or adventurous or zany, like mustard yellow.”

“damn, you really have put way too much thought into this,” shawn chuckled. “can i have a bite of the sandwich?”

you passed it to him without comment and lay down beside him, turning onto your side to face him. he grinned at you, and even though his eyes were obscured by his sunglasses, you still felt the genuine joy in his gaze.

“what are you smiling for?” you asked, reaching forward to trace the curve of his bottom lip with your thumb. his lip was soft against your hand, and it made you smile in turn.

“because,” he said, like it was obvious. “i’m here with you, eating good food at a picnic and talking about things that i’ve never stopped to think about before. plus, that cloud over there - the one by the tree? - it looks like an alien and i think that’s hilarious.”

you squinted up at the sky, but failed to see what he was talking about. you couldn’t stop your smile regardless, though, especially not after he said something like that. “see?” you said. “i told you. you’re totally yellow.”

Aurors in Fantastic Beasts

Look I really tried to take these bad ass Aurors seriously…

I mean look at these guys 

How could you not be in awe of them

Tina could punch me in the face and I’d say thank you 

But despite all that I could only think about this….

LOOK at this dork with her mustard-stache ready to defend and protect 

And damn that musical for making me crack up every single time I saw an Auror

But even through all that I’d still trust my life with these badass dorks 

Of Pups and Alphas - 2

Requested by @screams-setonfire : Can you do a part two to the overprotective of baby mama Derek Hale imagine? The first one was beautiful ?

Prompt: Derek and you get paint for the nursery. Derek scares an employee at a fast food restaurant and the baby kicks for the first time.

Characters: Derek x Pregnant!reader

Word count: ~1700 words

A/N: Second part of the protective daddy!derek series. Part 1

You pulled on your shirt before inspecting yourself in the full-length mirror. Your baby bump was now clearly visible, stretching out your shirt. Turning a bit you inspected you bump from the side – first you were surprised about how big your bump was despite that you only were 3 months along, but Deaton had explained that it was completely normal.

Werewolf pregnancies in general are shorter than human ones and since you were carrying the child of an alpha it wasn’t surprising that your pregnancy was moving along faster as well.

Sighing you ran one hand through your hair and with a last glance in the mirror you left the bedroom.

“Derek!”, you shouted while walking into the kitchen.

Before you could shout for him again Derek came running, crouching down in a fighting stance in front of you.

Puzzled you looked down at him while Derek’s eyes scanned the room.

“What the hell are you doing, Der?”

Derek breathed in deeply before his stance relaxed and he drew himself up to his full height.

“Don’t scream my name like that. I thought you were getting attacked.”

Laughing you patted Derek’s cheek, “You’re really acting like a guard dog since I’m pregnant, Derek.”

Anyone else would have gotten a good punch from Derek for calling him a dog but you only got a weak glare.

“I wanna buy some paint for the nursery,” you said, completely ignoring Derek’s glare.

“I can call Lydia over to watch you while I buy some paint. What color do you want?” Derek asked.

You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest, “I said I want to buy the paint and you’re going to take me somewhere where I can do that.”

“Can’t you stay home while I buy the paint?” Derek whined.

Since you got pregnant Derek tried to keep you home as much as possible. Usually, you didn’t mind, it was sweet how worried he was, but you were adamant about buying the paint yourself.

You glared at Derek, letting him know exactly what you thought about his plan. Derek frowned and glared back at you for a few seconds but soon sighed, “Fine.”

You cheered and Derek’s lips twitched up in a smile – he would do anything to see you happy.

Half an hour later you arrived at the store and immediately shuffled towards the paint buckets, Derek hot on your heels.

You looked at the different colors, wondering what would be best for the nursery. Since you didn’t know the gender of your child it was impossible to choose one of the typical colors for girls or boys. On the other hand it was a good thing since you didn’t want your child to grow up forced into some stupid gender role.

Maybe it would be cool to draw something on the walls, like a scene from a fairy tale. The first fairy tale coming to your mind was little red riding hood. You chuckled about the irony of your idea, but hey, it was a cute idea nonetheless.

While you were still thinking about all the colors you would need Derek stood behind you with his arms crossed over his chest, looking the aisle up and down. Every time someone else wanted to walk into the same aisle he shot them a glare, effectively making them turn on their heel.

You tried to grab a paint bucket, but immediately Derek reached over you and took the bucket, his chest pressing against your back.

“You shouldn’t lift heavy things,” Derek grumbled when you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t let me lift anything,” you replied, the amusement clear in your voice.

Derek shrugged, “Is that a problem?”

“Nope, but we still need more paint.”

You started to point at all the colors you wanted and Derek diligently lifted them down.

In the end you had choosen 7 different colors and Derek carried them all to the register at one go. Honestly, you were impressed by how he managed to balance them all.

A few minutes later you sat in the car again, the paint buckets safely stored in the trunk. You spent the drive in comfortable silence, playing with Derek’s fingers.

You drove past a restaurant and immediately decided that you were hungry. Really hungry.


Derek quickly glanced at you, squeezing your hand to let you know that he was listening.

“I’m really hungry,” you stated, rubbing your baby bump to emphasize your statement.

“Yeah? I could cook something for you when we’re back.”

“Nooo, you’re just going to make me some healthy crap,” you groaned.

Derek raised an eyebrow, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes, “It’s good for the pup.”

“Your pup wants curly fries, a milkshake, salad and burgers.”

Derek was silent, staring straight at the road.


You saw his jaw clench and knew you had won.

“Fine, let’s stop somewhere, but tomorrow I’m cooking again,” Derek relented.

10 minutes later you were skipping into a fast food restaurant, mentally making a list of all the things you were going to get.

You stopped in front of the counter, Derek planting himself behind you, one of his hands softly resting on your bump.

A young employee, maybe around 17 years old, sent you a tired look.

“What can I get for you?” he drawled out his words, but you were focused on starting at the pictures of food behind him.

“Mhhm… I want a vanilla, a strawberry and a chocolate milkshake. 3 large orders of curly fries, a salad and 5 cheeseburgers,” you tilted your head to look at Derek, “do you want anything, Der?”

Derek shook his head and you turned back to the young employee, “Okay, that’s it… oh, can you put mustard on the cheeseburgers and no ketchup?”

The employee groaned, “You sure you want to order so much? And no mustard, we only put ketchup on cheeseburgers.”

You shoulders fell and you immediately teared up. Damn pregnancy hormones, but you really wanted mustard and you could order whatever you want! Stupid boy!

Derek pulled you closer, a low growl reverberating in his chest. You wanted to calm him down, but Derek had already stepped in front of you, slamming his hands down on the counter.

The employee’s eyes widened almost comically when Derek leaned over the counter, his muscular arms clearly visible thanks to the black t-shirt he was wearing.

Derek’s voice was rough, a bit of his alpha voice slipping through and you were sure his eyes had flashed red by now.

“Listen, kid. You’re getting my girl her order and she is getting her cheeseburgers with mustard, are we clear? I don’t want to hurt a kid, but I’m going to if you push my patience any further.”

Not even five minutes later you held your order in your arms and made your way out of the restaurant. Derek held the car door open for you and you smiled up at him gratefully.

“Thanks Derek, but the poor kid almost pissed his pants and what did we say about growling at people?”

“I know, but you know how I get. My wolf freaks out when he thinks you or the pup are in any kind of danger and I could literally smell your tears.”

Pouting you got into the car. Derek placed one hand on the car door and leaned down with a smirk, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“It was fun and the kid deserved it,” with that words he closed the door.

Still smirking Derek slid into the driver’s seat. You decided not to say more. Scaring that boy seemed to make Derek happy and long as you had your food you were content.

Once you reached the loft Derek led you upstairs and you started to spread out your food next to you on the couch while Derek left to get the paint.

You were just unwrapping your first burger when you felt a sudden pressure against your bump. Surprised you placed your free hand on the bump. You almost wanted to pull your hand back when you felt it again. That was your baby. Kicking. Your baby was kicking!

“Derek!” You screamed loudly, “Derek! Hurry!”

You heard something clank to the ground – hopefully the paint buckets and not Derek.

Only seconds later Derek burst into the loft, his canines extended. You gave him an incredulous look when he panned his gaze around the room.

You felt the baby kick again and you let out a surprised noise. Derek rushed towards you and kneeled down in front of the couch, his hands awkwardly hovering over your body.

“W-What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong, baby. Should I get Deaton? (f/n)?”

“Shut up, Derek.” You grabbed one of Derek’s hands and placed it on your belly. As if the baby knew what you wanted you felt another kick, even stronger than the ones before.

Derek jumped back a bit, but immediately placed his hand back down, a look of wonder on his face.

“Our pup is kicking…” Derek mumbled, more to himself than to you.

He gently pushed your shirt up and placed his hand on your bare skin. You giggled when you felt another kick and Derek look up at you with a boyish grin. You had never seen Derek look so happy, so carefree.

Derek pulled you down and nuzzled his head in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“He’s just as strong as his daddy,” he mumbled against your skin.

“I think it’s a girl and she’s going to be just as strong as her mommy,” you said and ran a hand through Derek’s hair, “I told you our baby wants burgers and curly fries.”

You could feel Derek smile against your neck, “I’m still cooking something healthy tomorrow, (f/n). And we have to buy new paint, I dropped all of it.

Never Good Enough

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 736
Warnings: Angst

Part 1 of Last Chance

“Hey, babe?” You smiled, walking into the library where Dean was on his laptop. “I made you something to eat.” It was just about lunch time, and wanted to surprise him. Setting the plate down, you hoped that he enjoyed what you made.

His green eyes darted to the plate for a moment before looking back to whatever he was doing. “You use that mustard I like?” He asked simply.

“Yup!” You told him, glad that you had remembered.

“Not bloody, right?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at that. I’ve worked it out to timing it perfectly.” As of late, you hadn’t had any issues with the burgers you made coming out too raw for anyone. “Seasoned the burger with salt and pepper while it cooked, as well.” That was something that you’d learned damn quick to do, as it brought out more flavor.

Turning to head back to the kitchen to clean up, you smiled as Dean picked up his burger and took a bite. “Awe, come on.” He groaned, getting up to walk past you. “Barely any mustard, none of my damn pickles, and could have been cooked a couple minutes longer.”

You let out a soft sigh, hoping that you could do something else to make it up to him.

Walking into the room you shared with Dean, you grinned. He was stretched out, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his stomach. You could tell that he wasn’t sleeping, so you quietly shut the door and moved to the bed. Straddling him, you bit your lip. “Can I help you?” He asked without opening his eyes.

“…I…” You sighed, moving off of him. “Nevermind.” Moving to your side of the bed, you glanced at him before getting under the blankets and turning off your light. You felt the bed shift, and hoped that he’d pull you closer to him, but when the movement stopped, you looked over your shoulder. His back was to you. Swallowing the pain, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to sleep.

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'Dog Stuffing

I just now wrote this up in the span of a couple of hours, so I apologize if some of the wording is a bit off or if parts of it aren’t embellished enough. I’m still not 100% confident to post here again yet, but I’m working to overcome that anxiety. And hopefully someone will get some enjoyment or something out of this. 

-Earth Gwee

Another day began in the underground. People went about their daily lives, getting up in the morning, bathing, eating breakfast, opening up shop or visiting friends… Just the same as it had been for years down here. Snowdin was no exception. 

Papyrus always began his days very early, before anyone else woke up. He was filled so much with a constant infectious energy it was impossible for him to sleep for more than a couple hours, if that. Although, it wasn’t quite infectious enough for Sans, who had had trouble even waking up for sentry duty. As usual. Still, he relied on his taller brother’s endless supply of encouragement laced, with annoyance at Sans’s laziness, to keep him going. He knew Papyrus just wanted him to succeed in life as much as he was, and Sans more than appreciated it. But old habits die hard.

Sans reflected on that for a brief moment on his way to his sentry station in the forest, taking an idle glance down the tree-flanked pathway leading to big, locked stone door to the ruins. He would have to visit the old lady behind it again sometime during one of his legally-required breaks. He chuckled to himself, running over the new jokes he had in his repertoire. “She’s gonna love that one,” he said, taking a seat behind the counter of his station. He breathed out a long sigh and just sat back in his chair. He knew no humans would be showing up today; they never do, but he waited anyway. 

It was only a minute of waiting though, because after that minute Sans had a rather peckish urge. He only had time for a small breakfast today and it had been a while since he last ate. “Hm. Wonder if…” He searched around behind the counter for his stash of hotdogs and hotcats but found only stray bottles of ketchup, mustard, and relish, all of them nearly empty. “Damn…" 


He stood up straight in reaction to the noise and instinctively glanced down at his slightly distended gut. He placed his hands around it, feeling it gurgle in empty protest. Seems he was quite a deal more than just peckish. He was full on hungry. Powerfully hungry. Hungry enough to eat ten or more ‘dogs. But his stash wasn’t here. It was all the way in Hotland. He would complain as much as his magic stomach currently was, but he shrugged. "No worries. I know a shortcut.” He walked around the support post of his sentry station and disappeared in an instant, ending up right next to his station in Hotland with perfect ease. “Just like walking through a door.”

The atmosphere and landscape here were a stark contrast to Snowdin. Though he didn’t feel any temperature difference, being a skeleton, he could certainly imagine how stiflingly warm it was here. The station stood near a precarious cliff with a sheer drop down into the glowing, bubbling lava below. He’d hate to be the unlucky bastard who fell in there. Not that many people did, but still.

rmmbmglgl gwooorrp

He grabbed his tummy when it rumbled again. “Jeez, pal,” he chuckled and patted his belly. “You’re bubbling more than the lava." 


He ignored that and knelt down behind the station to find exactly what he’d been looking for: his stash of hot dogs. About a hundred of them! Plus the appropriate condiments of ketchup, mustard, and a little bit of relish. Even his condiment choices traveled far. After taking his seat behind the counter, he grabbed a 'dog, placed it in a bun, and topped it off with a thick line of ketchup. "All righty then. Let’s dig in, shall we?" 

And dig in he did. Though his teeth never opened, he was able to take a large bite of the 'dog, at least half of it, before chewing and swallowing. It took just a few seconds for Sans to completely consume the savory, water sausage confection. Just for the hell of it, he lifted his shirt and gazed down at his tummy, watching the chewed up pieces of magic food drift down and swirl around inside. 

His belly appeared a light cyan blue, reminiscent of the blue magic he usually dealt with, with a consistency that matched that of gelatin. It was firm to the touch but pliable like flesh. Inside was like a thick, watery substance, translucent. His spine could easily be seen behind it. It functioned like a normal, fleshy stomach would, just one big stomach-like organ. Sans had created this belly out of his own magic a while back as an experiment and he hadn’t gotten rid of it since. Despite the rest of him being nothing but bone, his magic belly was essentially an extension, an expression, of his own body. Because of that, even if he wanted to get rid of it, it wouldn’t be easy. He didn’t need it necessarily, but it was interesting, if a bit fun, to keep around.


His tummy gurgled strongly a second after the first bit of food entered it. It wasn’t nearly enough to curb that powerful hunger of his. So, without much thought, he went for more 'dogs. Each new one was lathered with ketchup, some with mustard, a few with a combination of the two or all three. He was in complete and total bliss right now, just filling his hungry belly, savoring the sweet taste of each 'dog that touched his teeth. The world around him mattered little. The only thing that mattered was curbing his huge appetite. He felt each and every bite hit his stomach like a stone in small pool of water. Little by little, the magic mass filled with its contents, becoming more opaque and obscuring his spine. 

Sans stopped for a moment to breathe and assess the damage. He’d already eaten a quarter of his stash, and he was still hungry. This hunger must have been insanely more powerful than he’d initially thought. He glanced down at his belly. Streaks of light and dark consumed magic danced lazily inside his slowly growing dome. It emitted very faint burbles and groans as it just barely began the process of digestion. He felt a strong bubble rise up to his throat and burst out in a loud hiccup and a belch. He exhaled and gave his belly a gentle pat. Yet he did not feel full. Not even close. 

More and more he ate. In about a half hour’s time, he had gotten down to half of his 'dog stash. He ran out of ketchup and had to resort to mustard and relish, which were less desirable but still doable as taste enhancers. Sans just kept munching and chewing and swallowing without much sign of slowing down. More and more his tummy rounded out until it peaked out from under his shirt, exposing its glowing self. Once in a while, he would rip a hiccup or a burp, which only increased in frequency as he ate. He sat down behind the counter, on the rough ground next to his slowly shrinking stash. His belly rested on his femurs as a big, gurgling, glowing blob of magic. 

This was the downside to this magic belly of his, the "payment,” if you will. Keeping it around meant a higher magic consumption requirement than normal, which meant a higher demand for food. But, as per usual, Sans was too lazy to try and get rid of this belly and just enjoyed the food it demanded, which wasn’t always a good thing. It led to him moving more slowly than without the belly, much to the dismay of Papyrus who had to put up with his brother’s increased laziness. As much as Papyrus nagged, he nagged at Sans out of worry for his well being. Not only did it effect Papyrus, it effected Sans more deeply. This belly was draining him of necessary energy, energy he could be saving for if a potentially dangerous human were to fall into the underground. It was a vicious cycle that Sans had chosen to keep himself in. He knew he needed to fix this problem somehow, maybe come to a compromise of keeping his belly without the risks, but he never got around to it. He didn’t want to. Which only worried his brother even more.

In this moment, he just focused on what made him happy, forgetting about the ramifications that would come from this. He had eaten all the 'dogs that made up seventy percent of his stash. Onto the hot cats. His condiments were running out. The mustard ran out. All that was left was the relish. Now he was slowing down. He needed to stop and breathe. “Urrrp!” he loudly belched. “Ugh… Man… Getting a bit bloated–hic!” His belly had bulged out so much now that the shirt had ridden up to its crest, a tightening, unhappy, bubbling mess inside. After eating ninety percent of his total stash, he finally felt achy. He moaned to himself, rubbing his exposed, stuffed middle in a circular fashion, trying to ease the tension and aid in the painful digestion process. 

Ninety-five percent down…

Ninety-seven percent down…


He gave up at the last one. He slumped to the ground, face up in a heap, letting out a loud groan. After consuming ninety-nine hotdogs and hotcats, the skeleton finally felt a shred of regret. He had never eaten this sheer of an amount before, enough for it to start backfiring on him. Sans had rendered himself immobile. He could only feel that aching pain in his engorged gut. He only heard it burbling away, working laboriously at all that consumed magic. “Now I know… what a stuffed turkey feels like… Urp!

Sans couldn’t even doze the food away. He just lay there in agony. But after a little while, he heard firm footfalls approaching him. He knew exactly whose feet those were and he cringed a little.

“Sans? Sans! Sans, where are you?! Why aren’t you at your post in Snowdin Forest?!” Papyrus leaned over the counter. His eyesockets popped wide at the sight of his brother before them. “Sans?!" 

"Hey, Papyrus…” Sans waved weakly and hiccupped.

“What in the world happened? What did you do to yourself this time!”

“Uh…well…” Sans’s cheekbones turned a slight shade of pink. He tried and failed to avoid his taller brother’s gaze. “I got hungry.”

Papyrus tilted his brow. “You got hungry.”

“Yeah. S'all I got. I’m, uh, kinda in pain here, bro." 

"Of course, you’re in pain! You’ve engorged yourself far beyond your limit! I knew you’d get yourself into trouble when you created that organ or yours!”

“Yeah… Hic!” He hated to admit it out loud, but Papyrus was right. “I don’t think I can even take one of my shortcuts.”

“You know this means I have to carry you home, don’t you?”

“Yeah… I know… I guess I’ve been too full of myself lately. Heh-heh. Ow.” He winced.

“Argh… Even in this state you still make terrible jokes…” Papyrus gave an exasperated sigh, walking around behind the station, and proceeded to lift up Sans from under the shoulders. He grunted profoundly from the effort.

Nyeehhhh! I swear, Sans, you deliberately make yourself this lazy!”

“If it’s any consolation,” Sans replied rather calmly, holding his poor belly, “I don’t think I’ll be doing that again.”

Nrrgh! Good!” Finally, Papyrus got a good hold on Sans and lifted the heavy skeleton into his arms. All that training with Undyne, plus his own natural strength, paid off. Too bad it involved taking his immobilized brother home. 

“Now then, let’s get out of here as quickly as possible. I don’t want to spend another minute on Conveyor Planet.“ He then jogged briskly down the path to the elevator that would take them down to the first level. 

In a minute, they arrived at the river dock and requested the River Person take them back to Snowdin. They had said nothing to each other the whole trip back. Sans could feel Papyrus’s embarrassment radiate off of him as his carried him down the main street. Some of the town residents stopped and stared, only making Papyrus feel more embarrassed. But it wasn’t embarrassment for himself, just concern that people would wrongfully judge Sans for being this monumentally lazy. He only wanted Sans to do better than his best self, and for him to squander that away to this extent was one of Papyrus’s biggest worries. Sans knew that, and he felt guilty for it. He probably wouldn’t change his ways completely, but if only to make his brother a little happier, he’d have to make a decision. 

At last, they were home. Papyrus somehow managed to open the door and push his way through with his shoulder while still carrying Sans. He gently placed Sans down on the sofa, allowing his belly enough room to lay out. The belly jiggled a little from this action, painfully sloshing about. Sans suppressed a groan and rubbed the bulbous mass. "Thanks, Papyrus…”

“You know I worry about you, Sans,” Papyrus replied in a firm but gentle tone. “I understand this organ you’ve made is a part of you, but you can’t pretend it doesn’t do some kind of damage. I worry that you’ll let it… overtake you! Or that you’ll… fall down! Or something!! I won’t ask you to go on a diet, but please, at the very least, promise me you’ll do something about it!!“

"You’re right, bro. And, uh… I’m real sorry for making you worry.” He took a deep breath in and sighed, resting a tired hand on the crest of his overly stuffed belly. “You know how I am with promises, but… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sans!” Papyrus rushed into a tight hug. “You don’t know how much that means to me!”

“Y-you’re welcome…” Sans choked. His stomach gurgled threateningly. “Uh, careful. I don’t feel so good, remember?”

“Oh! Sorry!” Papyrus immediately released his hold and withdrew. “I have an idea! Once you’re all better, we can go visit Undyne! Maybe she could help–!”

“Whoa, whoa, baby steps.”

“Hm, you’re right. She’s a bit too advanced for you. Maybe Doctor Alphys can devise something for you that would help! She’s very resourceful!”

Sans’s grin widened weekly. He chuckled softly as he lay back down to rest. In spite of his guilt for making his brother worry so much, Sans still felt eternally grateful to have him around. Dealing with this issue he had created for himself would be challenging, mostly impossible for Sans, but he at the very least would make the effort not to overly indulge that much again. In time. For now, he just listened to Papyrus drone on, finally able to slumber. He had a huge meal to sleep off.

-The End-

no but seriously imagine helena accidentally eating cosima’s pot brownies and getting the munchies


I’ve been thinking about Halloween lately and thought about how cute Max and Nathan would be in matching costumes. So, I present my very first caulscott holiday themed fic. I know it’s short, but I’ve been so busy lately and didn’t have a lot of time to write.

Also, I really liked the ideas everyone gave me for costumes, and I used one of them, so enjoy

Summary: Max begs Nathan to wear a matching Halloween costume for trick-or-treating and Nathan finally agrees. He soon regrets his decision when he finds out what he has to wear

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the zombie au (pt. 1)

content warnings: zombies, violence/blood/injuries, ableism

  • so the machine sends them a number one day
  • it’s some scientist working on a cure for whatever
  • seems straightforward enough
  • protect the dude, let him finish making the thing
  • they keep an eye on him for a week, he finishes the thing
  • mission accomplished?
  • the machine totally wanted them to take him out. to stop him
  • he unintentionally created a virus that leads to the zombie outbreak
  • it spreads quickly in ny
  • tm tells root to get the team the fuck outta there
  • tells root that She is going to have to go offline. to die
  • the electricity will be shut off, society will collapse
  • root tries to tell finch, he doesn’t believe her at first
  • “zombies? this isn’t science fiction, ms. groves”
  • “isn’t it?” reese asks with a bitter laugh. he believes it right away. hes too weary to show the fear
  • “i’m sure people will say that about our secret ai war too, finch.” shaw growls
  • she’s also behind root 100%
  • zombies? it’s crazy. but she’s been brought back to life. anything is possible
  • “the machine doesn’t make mistakes, finch. you said it yourself.” john says because finch will listen to him if anyone when it comes to the impossible
  • so they barricade the entrance to the subway and hightail it the fuck outta there
  • the infection’s in the early stages, no mass panic yet
  • john and shaw raid several army surplus stores
  • they arent looking forwards to going back to those damn mres
  • “finch, you got a gated community somewhere out on the coast or something?” shaw asks when they start packing gear out of their safehouse “we need a place to sit this out”
  • john immediately makes a face
  • "have you ever tried to survive in new york in the winter without shelter? most people don’t make it. i barely did. we shouldn’t risk it.”
  • roots not that into the idea of travelling
  • "we’d find a place to stay. plus- the machine DID had me infiltrate a tent city, that one time. i’ve roughed it!”
  • “that isn’t the same. trust me on this one, guys.”
  • finch picks up the conversation so john doesnt have to explain any more, thankfully
  • he convinces them to drive south
  • the world’s scariest roadtrip
  • they take cars until society starts to collapse
  • by that time they’ve probably made it to tennessee 
  • thought they arent exactly sure where they are. cell service, if its still up, is limited and most website servers are no longer running
  • but theyve made it south
  • somewhere mild enough so they wont die in the winter
  • when its no longer safe to go out in public, they settle down in an abandoned house
  • shaw/john/root brought a shitfuck of weapons with them
  • shaw and john constantly emphasize the need to conserve ammo
  • harold is kinda in denial about the collapse of society for awhile
  • he cant go on scouting missions, or raids
  • he stays at home and protects the homestead (with john most of the time)
  • takes care of the vegetable garden
  • he’s absurdly proud of his damn garden
  • “most people aren’t capable of growing mustard seeds this far south- however i do think that this plant will bloom quite nicely. we’ll have some dijon in time for barbeque season.”
  • shaws not very impressed
  • “where are we gonna get the hot dogs, harry”
  • “finch has a weiner i can eat. don’t think you two would like it, though.”
  • the girls are horrified
  • finch is blushing
  • anyway
  • root keeps a motorcycle around for quick transport and scouting
  • they’re lucky for awhile
  • they’re out in the middle of nowhere so they don’t come across too many wandering zombies
  • they only trade in neutral territory, they never bring others back to base
  • harold thinks it would be a good idea to team up with others
  • especially in the beginning
  • he wants to hold onto society for as long as possible
  • it doesnt end very well. he stops asking to bring others into the group after that
  • they cant live in quiet paradise for forever
  • eventually they’re overrun by a herd
  • john gets a nasty gash in his leg. shaw’s worried they’ll have to amputate
  • "we can match limps, finch”
  • he’s lying on a dirty bed in a dirty room, clutching finch’s hand for dear life. root’s patrolling the perimeter while shaw does her best to clean the wound
  • “now is not the time for jokes, mr reese”
  • johns breaking out in a cold sweat. hes pale and weak and holding onto finchs hand with what be every ounce of strength left
  • finch cant help but cry. his strong, brave patroclus, whos already been mourning every day over the undead lives hes had to take, brought down by a stake hed put up for finch’s own defense
  • he remembers how john had joked and smiled as he’d worked it into the ground
  • how they’d kissed sweetly after and picked fresh tomatoes
  • they ran out of antibiotics last year, after root got a nasty upper respiratory infection
  • john ends up losing his leg
  • his screams are the hardest part
  • they both cry for a long time