"♧: One character playing with the other's hair" with sh/ance <3
ok, so this was just supposed to be a simple prompt fill and it turned into a 1k monster that might even turn into a multi chapter fic and honestly, it made me ship it so much harder. writing this fic cured my depression i hope you like it.
There were several pros and cons to having a robotic arm.
Admittedly there were significantly less pros, by virtue that it wasn’t his arm that gripped the controls of his lion. It wasn’t his arm that brought the mug of coffee or the spoonful of food goo to his lips. It wasn’t his arm. It was a foreign object, attached to his shoulder, forced onto him by an alien race that had conquered and enslaved the entire known universe.
So yeah, definitely more cons. But sometimes, when he was feeling more optimistic, Shiro could find a few pros to having the arm.
One pro specifically, was that it didn’t get tired. It didn’t strain or falter or cramp up if he held it in one position for too long. It made doing certain things much easier.
Like now, laying in his bed with Lance pressed up along his front, his head pillowed in the crook of the robotic arm, Shiro didn’t have to worry about it falling asleep. He could just lay there, hanging in the space between waking and dreaming, his nose buried in the nape of Lance’s neck, breathing in deep the smell of Altean body wash and something warm and so very much Lance.
It settled something wild in his chest, made his breathing a little easier. It kept the flashes of purple and pink at bay, and Shiro could close his eyes and dream of home. Because that’s what Lance was; he was home for everyone on the ship, but for Shiro specifically.
Lance smelled like home, like sun-kissed skin and a summer sky, and Shiro wanted to bury himself in it.
Ayano knew two things: normal, non-broken children felt things that she didn’t, on deeper levels than she could; and the ones who were never kicked or laughed at had friends.
Pretending to be normal at home was simple. She smiled so much it hurt sometimes, and she never knew when she should or shouldn’t laugh, but her father never questioned her. If she slipped up at home, all that would result is a knowing smile from her mother and a strained one from her father.
(He knew. She knew he knew. She knew he still cried when her mother wasn’t looking. She wasn’t sure he knew he did that.
At least he stopped smoking.)
Surely it shouldn’t be to hard to befriend her classmates. After all, she modeled her behavior at home after them.
So she sat next to a girl in her class with green pigtails at lunch. Silently.
The other children were staring at her. She smiled at them, but they didn’t return it like they would with their friends.
The green haired girl hadn’t looked up, pouring over a letter. Ayano didn’t know what she had expected, or what she needed to do. Normal children talked to their friends, but she realized she didn’t know what they talked about, or how their conversations even started.
Maybe she should have walked up to a group of children who were already talking. She knew the green haired girl usually sat alone, writing letters. Sometimes she talked rapidly to this boy with messy silver hair and a lab coat (like the doctors. The doctors had said things she didn’t understand, or had surgical masks that hid their faces. She didn’t have to talk to anyone when around the doctors. They didn’t expect her to) or another boy with glasses that usually played video games.
Ayano leaned closer to her, but her handwriting was hard to read. She noticed this finally looked up. She seemed to be expecting something.
Ayano’s father usually asked her “How was your day?” or “Did you learn anything fun?” when she came home. He would ask if she liked dinner or if she had dreamed anything.
(She didn’t, but she lied and said she did. She would describe something she had seen on the television or read, and he would smile. She knew he knew she was lying, but he still smiled for her.)
So she smiled and asked the green haired girl a question. “Who are you writing?” seemed safe enough.
She grinned back. “Luigi. I’m asking why he jumps higher than Mario and why he’s taller if he’s younger and why he’d Italian if he’s from America and why he’s from America when he’s from here and where the Mushroom Kingdom is and-”
Ayano smiled and nodded. The green haired girl was hard to follow, but at least she didn’t have to worry about what to say.
Until the green haired girl said, “Luigi’s my favorite to write to. He doesn’t write back- no one does, but they will if I write enough, I’m sure. I like him because he’s funny and green like me. Green’s my favorite color, what’s yours?”
Ayano didn’t have one. A color was just a color after all. She didn’t see why anyone would like one more than another. She knew she shouldn’t say this though. It didn’t seem normal.
“Oh. I like green, too,” she said instead.
It seemed to be the right thing to say, because the girl clapped her hands and squealed “Wow, really? I’m Midori by the way, what about you?”
“Yan-chan, Yan-chan, there’s this cool bug I saw earlier, come on,” Midori grabbed her hand dragging her up, “Come on, maybe it’s still here!”
The letter was tucked into Midori’s pocket, and she pulled Ayano along.
The children still stared, but it didn’t matter. They knew she and Midori were friends, and she was acting like them now. And she knew, as she listened to Midori talk about bugs and games and wanting a pen pal, that they wouldn’t bother her later.
They had no reason to bother her. Not as long as they thought she was normal.
drive to the drug store took longer than you thought it would. First there was
road work, which made you turn around and go another direction. Then as you got
halfway there, there had been a traffic accident. Slowly driving upon the
accident, you saw something. A young woman, who looked like you. Her hair and eye
color were the exact same as yours. She was just standing there, she wore a
black dress that was covered in flowers with a light pink sweater over it. The
wind moved the bottom of her dress, as the breeze passed.
wasn’t crying, or upset even; she just stared at you. You looked around to see
if officers or paramedics were going over to her but no one seemed to notice
her. As you looked back in her direction you couldn’t see her anymore. Glancing
around to see if she’d gotten any help, you were finally able to see the
accident. A truck was smashed up and lying on its side, and a little red car
was flipped over about five feet from it. There was a body laying half out of
the small car, it was the girl. In the floral dress.
Summary: He never thought he’d get a second chance with you. Life didn’t work like that and it wasn’t something he’d been counting on. But now, being here with you at his side, he felt like he couldn’t thank the universe enough. He wasn’t going to screw it up this time.
Words: 1,574 (I may have gotten carried away)
Misha x Reader
Warnings: fluff, kissing, implied smut (at the end, if you squint)
Notes: I’m so excited for this part! I’ve been loving writing this series and I hope you all have been enjoying it as much as I have. I don’t know how long this series will continue on for but I want to keep it going as long as I still have inspiration and you guys are reading it! As always, feedback is appreciated, and enjoy this part!
The rest of your day went by pretty fast, much to your liking. Since you didn’t have anything else going on, you’d decided to start early on your article at your office instead of heading home. You’d lost track of time as you worked and before you knew it, it was almost ten and you had finished writing. You sent it to your boss and got your stuff together, heading out to your car.
Pulling out of the parking garage you realized it had started raining, and it was pouring by the time you got home. The street lights were out and you couldn’t see any light coming from any of the apartment windows. Cursing under your breath, you parked and grabbed your things before bolting to your door. Even though you’d only spent a few seconds in the rain, you were soaked to your skin. You sighed and unlocked your door, pausing in the doorway when you saw what was inside.
Request: @meredith9811 :May I request a Sherlock x Reader where she is young but she has fallen in love with the Holmes and he finds himself in love also, but he will not confess because she is so young. Does that make sense? Haha sorry if it’s a lot.
You pressed the doorbell of 221B, trying desperately to stay out of the rain. You were ushered upstairs by a charismatic landlady who offered you some tea. You smiled and thanked her as you sat down in a stiff chair facing the fireplace.
“Ah, finally a client.” A voice came out of the kitchen and sat in a black chair next to you: Sherlock Holmes.
“Well I’m not exactly a client.” You said, and you could tell he was trying to study you.
“If you’re not my client then who is?” He asked, steepling his fingers in a dominant fashion.
“I can’t give you much information, doctor-patient confidentiality and all that, but I do need your help.” You said, crossing your legs. You saw his eyebrow raise, suspiciously.
“How are you a doctor? You must be twenty.” You asked.
“Twenty-five actually, and I’m a doctor of psychology, I have my own practice.” You smiled, you were used to this by now.
“How can you be so young?” He asked.
“I graduated from Oxford, top of my class at 18, medical school 20, and then opened my own practice, but that’s not why I’m here.” You pushed. You watched again as Sherlock eyed you, his was clearly attracted to you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
“But.. how?” He asked again.
“What? Like it’s hard?” You smirked, before carrying on, “Like I said I can’t tell you much, but someone of significance to my patient was recently killed in an… unusual way, and immediately after he contacted a therapist, not the police or a detective.
“How unusual?” He asked curiously.
“‘Quite literally– death by a thousand cuts. Now I can’t tell you who he is, but I can steer him into your path. I have another session with him in an hour, maybe if he saw you around my office he might reach out to you, or at the very least you could read him yourself.” You said.
“Oh this is a good one, you’re spoiling me Ms…?” He asked for your name.
“Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” You smiled.
“Well Y/N, why come to me?” He asked.
“Well, I wrote my thesis on the science of deduction, I found your website, thought finally someone who speaks my language. And you’re a mild celebrity, though I try to avoid it, I do watch the news. And I need your help.” You pleaded.
“I’ll do it.” He smiled.
“Four o’clock.” You smiled, standing and handing him your business card with your office address on it.
“Sorry I’ve got to run. I’m conducting a seminar on multiple personalities and it takes forever to fill out the name tags.” You grabbed your bag and exited the room, on your way down the stairs you passed a man heading to see Sherlock. John Watson, you recognized him from the blog.
“Hey Sherlock, who was that?” John asked after you had left.
“Client.” He smiled, leaning against the window, watching you flag down a cab.
“You like her.” John teased.
“No I don’t.” He lied.
“You’re still looking at her.” John observed. Sherlock looked away from the window quickly. “Who is she?”
“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” He smiled.
“Doctor? John was taken aback.
“There are still incredible people who walk among us.” Sherlock answered, slipping on his long coat.
“Sherlock where are you going?” John yelled as Sherlock ran down the stairs.
“The game is on!” He yelled, slamming the door.
“Dr. Y/L/N, there’s a Mr. Holmes here to see you.” Your receptionists said through the phone.
“Thank you Erin.” You said, putting the phone back on the receiver, and leaving your office.
“You’re early.” You smiled as you saw Sherlock standing in your office.
“Maybe I just really needed to see a doctor.” He smirked.
“Clearly.” You smirked.
“Y/N.” Your receptionist said, and you turned to face her. “Your four o’clock just called and canceled.”
“Shit, give me his file.” You ordered, she pulled it from the cabinet and placed it in your hand. You searched it for his address. You had to find him, you knew if he didn’t show up he might kill again. Obviously that was what happened the first time, he killed his flatmate.
You handed the file to Erin and she knew that you might be out for a while and not make it back for your next appointment.
“You have a session with your multiple personality at 6:00.” Erin said as you were heading towards the door.
“Not to worry. If I’m late he can just talk amongst himself.” You called back, pulling Sherlock out the door for you two to hail a cab.
Once in the car, you handed the file to Sherlock. Doctor-patient confidentiality gets thrown out the window if the patient has a potential to harm themselves or others.
“He craves power over others, since he has a lack of power in his own life. If I’m right about this, he killed his flatmate and is about to kill again. The method of death by a thousand cuts, or lingchi, is a very personal act. For someone like this, guns are too quick. They can’t savor all the little emotions. They start with the eyes, rendering the rest of the process even more psychologically terrifying for the victim. This gives them control, the victim’s life is in their hands, they can keep cutting and cutting until they’re satisfied, slowly, savoring it.” You explained as Sherlock read the file.
“So we can suspect it’s someone of significance to him. Why kill the flatmate? Had he wronged him in some way?” Sherlock asked.
“He said they got on well, and the police still think it was a random murder. But the police are idiots and my patient was obviously lying. You should have seen him, behavioral pauses and delays, verbal and nonverbal disconnects, hiding the mouth and eyes, throat-clearing and swallowing, he’s not very good at lying. The flatmate was sleeping with his girlfriend. She could be the next target.” You said, and Sherlock was staring at you in an odd way.
“What?” You asked, he was still staring and it was starting to concern you.
“It’s just that you’re so… mature and intelligent… and you should definitely should branch into criminal investigation.” He said, dumbfounded.
“You’re not the first to try to recruit me Sherlock Holmes.” You smirked.
“Oh really, who was?” He asked.
“MI6, the government, and a man named Mycroft Holmes, your brother I’m assuming.” You smiled.
“My brother tried to recruit you to work for the government?” Sherlock asked.
“Oh yes, he was very kind. He said I was perspicacious, and preeminent in my field.” You smiled, and the cab halted to a stop. The two of you rushed out.
You broke into the flat and stopped your patient from killing his girlfriend. She was tied up and he had injected her with opium to dull the pain so the process could last longer. Sherlock called the police, after a short row with your patient. He tried to escape and Sherlock caught him, and also received a punch to the face that was now swelling.
You now stood in 221B, helping Sherlock get all doctored up. You left the room to grab something for Sherlock, and left him with John.
“Sherlock… She’s a bit young for you, don’t you think?” John nagged.
“Who said anything about romantic entanglement?” Sherlock asked, defensively.
“You did, in all forms short of physical speech.” John answered.
“I know she’s a little younger than me, but John I’ve never felt like this before and it’s strange and new and I don’t know what to do!” Sherlock whisper yelled.
“A little younger, Sherlock she’s 10 years younger!” John yelled back just as you had entered the room. Sherlock looked apologetically up to you when he saw the look on your face. You had fallen for Sherlock Holmes.
“Uh, I’d love to stay, but I…” You said, thinking of an excuse as you gathered your things, ”I have my therapy group meeting… and the last time I was late the, er, compulsive gamblers were betting the passive aggressors that they couldn’t make the overeaters… cry.”
You headed down the stairs, surprised when you heard Sherlock running down after you. He grabbed your arm when you hit the coat rack downstairs.
“Y/N, wait, please.” Sherlock stopped you.
“No, I should go.” You tried to leave, but he stopped you.
“You truly are brilliant, and beautiful, and I would be a fool to let you walk out of here right now. You are the first woman who I’ve felt this way around. At first I was hesitant, because of the slight age difference, but now I see that that doesn’t matter and age is just a number.” Sherlock began.
“Sherlock–” You tried, but he cut you off.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?” He asked.
A/N: Part 3. Thank you to my wonderful beta @thorne93.
Summary: When Louisa finds an old, unopened letter from her great grandfather, she leaves her old life behind to go search for a man named Henry Winchester, hoping he has some answers for her. What she finds is beyond her wildest imagination, but she is determined to continue her family’s legacy.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Louisa (OFC), Cas
Warnings: None i think..
*not my GIF*
Sam watched her as she ran her fingers over the backs of the books in the library, her blue eyes locked on the words while her lips mouthed the words as she read the titles.
She had been there for almost a week now, reading, learning. Sam had offered her a room, but she had insisted on staying at the motel in town. Louisa came by the bunker every morning, stayed for a few hours, left for lunch before coming back for a few hours. Dean was always quick to retreat to his room whenever she showed up, not coming back out before she was gone. He still refused to have any part of this… whatever it was that her and Sam had going on.
Hey, it’s jeongguks grill ya girl, Nikki, back at it again with another follow forever \ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ/ I didn’t include everyone i’ll do that in my 3rd one when i hit my milestone i promise but these are some of the blogs !! (ily all tho)
I guess you can say this is a mini follow forever ?? ? idk //sobs
There are three Pokemon from each type in this giveaway. Winners will choose one type and recieve the three Pokemon from that type! That means there will be 18 winners getting 3 Pokemon each.
Prizes by Type
One reblog = one entry. One entry per person, multiple reblogs will not give you multiple entries.
Likes don’t count, but feel free to like if you need to save it for later or something.
Must recieve Pokemon on X or Y.
No giveaway blogs.
One type (3 Pokemon) per winner!
You cannot mix and match.
All winners must respond to my first message within 24 hours.
Because there will be so many winners, I won’t be doing ‘first place gets first pick’. Who ever responds first with their pick will get it. Otherwise people who are ready could be waiting behind five or six who haven’t yet responded.
Please look at the pictures for more info on the Pokemon (level, gender, etc.). I’ve put them up in alphabetical order by type. Sorry they’re so messy, I couldn’t think of a good way to put them together.
If there is something you want to know that isn’t in the pictures, please ask! The only think I will not check is IV’s. I don’t breed for them/use them at all and that is not the purpose of the giveaway.
This giveaway will end March 26th around 7PM Pacific Time. I may extend the time another day since it is such a large giveaway, but we’ll see.
hey buddies, so i finally reached 1.9k and i just wanted you all to know how much i love and appreciate the hard work you all put into your blogs. you’re all amazing and thank you for making being a fan of these shows, actors and actresses so much more enjoyable. you’re all the best and ilysm. (it’s guaranteed that i missed people because i follow an insane amount of blogs, but if you aren’t included and follow you i love your blog ok)
clones-and-thrones: you have made the absolute best cophine fanfiction i have ever read. you are able to make cosima and delphine have that banter and flirtation while still encapsulating their traits they have in the show but from a high school perspective. it’s just so perfect and makes me so happy whenever there’s an update. you can read it here (x)