Imagine the boys helping you burn your ex's belongings.
“And then this…” you sighed as you threw in a small stuffed animal that you used to sleep with every single night that held tears no one was supposed to know about.
“Is that it?” Dean asked as he lit a match, the small flame dancing in the chilling breeze of the night.
You nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself tightly. If Sam and Dean saw the hoodie that hung loosely from your torso, they would make you throw it into the burn pile. To be honest, though, this was one belonging that you didn’t want to part with. It helped keep you warm and it brought you comfort during lonely nights. Your ex’s scent still lingered on it, which was a positive and negative thing, but mostly negative. Every time that scent invaded your senses, a flood of memories came rushing back and tears would pool up in your dull eyes. It was just another reminder of him and all of his mistakes.
“Y/n,” Sam started, “and the hoodie.”
“But-” you started only to be shut up by Dean’s glare.
“No. No buts. Come on.”
Sighing, you pulled the hoodie over your head, only to be left in a tank top as you tossed it into the small pile that held the rest of the memories. Dean tossed in the match and the objects burst into flames, the orange glowing against the night sky.
“This relationship literally went down in flames,” you sniffled.
Sam and dean pulled you into a hug knowing how hard this was. “This is going to help, kiddo, I swear,” Dean promised. “You can’t just hang on to a little punk like him. You’re too beautiful and good for him.”
“He’s right, Y/n,” Sam piped in, wrapping his jacket around your bare shoulders. “Sometimes hanging on does more damage than letting go…”
I am not sure who asked me to tag them when I post tea-party Shawn, I am starting to think it was all a dream bc everybody is telling me it wasn’t them. So, I am just going to give a small shout out. Here are some lovelies that have allowed me to blow their messages up with things.
Since the moment he casted his eyes on her Zinnwaldite Brown eyes, he was hooked— there was nothing else in the world more important than the baby girl swaddled in his arms—her pastel pink blanket wrapped around her tiny little body.
From the moment Valerie Anne arrived in the world on December 13th, weighing 7lbs, he did everything possible to keep her happy, from driving around at three in the morning to get her to sleep for a few hours, to cradling her on his chest late at night while she stays wide-eyed and cooing.
It’s no surprise when you find the two of them taking naps, cuddled up on the couch, or in the king size bed, he is always making sure to spend as much time as possible with his three-year-old, the word no never being able to fall from his lips.
Not when it comes to the hickory eyes of hers, that shine up at him on a daily basis.
When you step into the peaceful house, you assume the two of them are taking a nap somewhere, cuddled together, your little girl safely secure in her Daddy’s arms.
It’s when you overhear soft giggles coming from upstairs that you become curious as to what the two of them are up to.
You climb the stairs with a smile, the chuckles getting heavier, Shawn’s own laughs echoing lightly.
You unobtrusively make your way towards her bedroom, peeking your head into the room to see what is causing the snickers. The moment you observe your husband and little girl sitting on the floor, surrounded by teddy bears and the small tea-set, your heart flutters with joy.
The tea party is her favourite pass time, she would spend hours playing tea-party with you if you’d allow her to.
There have been so many times when Shawn has been on a tour and you have spent hours playing tea-party, just to keep her calm and not set on wanting to call daddy every five minutes.
“Mr.Snuggles, it’s very nice tea.” Shawn lightly glides his hand over one of the numerous teddy bears head.
It's You •Part 2• (Soulmate AU Newt Scamander x Reader)
“Newt,” a voice whispered softly. His head ached as his eyes fluttered open, the light in the room causing him to squint. He looked up, eyes bleary and everything out of focus as he began to sit up. “Maybe you should stay down, honey.”
“Queenie?” He questioned, blinking a few times in an attempt to clear his vision. Once he was able to see, he found that he was laying on the floor of the sister’s apartment.
“Yeah, I’m here,” she replied with a soft smile. “Tina and Y/N are in the kitchen. Do you remember what happened?”
“She doesn’t remember me,” he forced out, voice shaking as he covered his face with his hands. “W-Why is she here? How did we get here?”
“For a wizard, it seems that you don’t know how easy it is to use magic to get from place to place,” she joked lightly, her hopeful expression falling as Newt merely wiped at his eyes.
“Why is Y/N here?” He questioned lowly, looking at her with distant eyes.
“She wants to talk to you,” Queenie explained, looking back at the kitchen where you and her sister were talking quietly.
“I can’t talk to her, Queenie, not like this,” he frantically sputtered out as his eyes darted to where you were standing. “You need to send her away, this can’t-”
“At least wait until tomorrow before making any decisions,” she interrupted him. She played nervously with her dress and bit her lip as she turned to face him. “She wants to get to know you, Mr. Scamander, and I know that you would hate yourself if you turned her away.”
“What makes you so sure of that? She doesn’t know me, it won’t matter-”
“But it does matter!” She insisted in a quiet voice. “She’s your soulmate and you love her!”
“She doesn’t even know me!”
“I, um, I don’t mean to intrude,” your soft voice interjected as you stepped into the living room. Queenie and Newt looked at you with surprise, neither one knowing that you had made your way over until they heard your voice. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here. I don’t want to be a burden, and I truly understand if you’re mad at me for not knowing you, Newt.”
“You could never be a burden to me, Y/N,” Newt promised as his eyes met yours with a tenderness you had never seen before. “I just need to… I need to make a plan before we see if your memories can come back.”
“Do you want me to leave until then?” You asked nervously. His eyes became clouded with guilt and he stood up from the floor. He went to grasp onto your hand before realizing that you might not want him to, his hand dropping immediately.
“You can stay, I just need to be alone,” he said sadly, head lowering slightly. “I believe that there’s a few things in my case that might help.”
“Now that that’s settled, I’ll take Y/N to the guest room and give her a tour of the place,” Tina piped up anxiously, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the room. Newt watched as you left, your head turning back to glance at him one more time before being pulled into a room.
“I’ll help you,” Queenie offered as Newt stood silently in the room for a moment. His eyes flickered over to her as he set his case up on the floor and opened it.
“Alright,” he gave in, climbing in and motioning for her to follow. “But there’s to be no questions about Y/N until her memories are back.”
Newt and Queenie worked long into the night, and eventually, Tina crept slowly into the case with a tray of tea and snacks. Her sister was on the floor, dozing off with a book on her lap and palm under her chin as soft snores escaped her. Tina let out a small snort and set the tray down on a clear space on a table before walking out of the shack to find Newt.
It wasn’t until she reached Dougal’s enclosure that she was able to find Newt. At first, she didn’t hear much, just the sounds of the creatures going about their business, but then she could hear the faint sound of crying from behind a tree. Carefully, she made her way over and saw Newt sitting on the ground with Dougal, Pickett, and the Niffler perched beside him. They watched as he cried, looking on with sad eyes and attempting to make him feel better.
“Mr. Scamander, it’s getting late,” she spoke up after watching silently for a few minutes. Newt immediately attempted to stop his crying as he heard her voice. He nodded stiffly and wiped at his face, Dougal moved foward and gently wiped away a few stray tears as Pickett climbed into one of his pockets. The Niffler let out a huff before pulling a small gem out of its pouch, holding it out to Newt.
“That’s very kind of you,” Newt sniffled as he accepted the gem, reaching to take it from the Niffler’s tiny hands.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t know what to say,” Tina admitted as Newt stood up. They began to walk to the shack, the creatures slowly following behind them.
“How is she?“
“She’s up in the guest room, sleeping, I would imagine.”
“I don’t know if her memories can…” Newt trailed off, his voice becoming lost in the breeze that filled the air. Tina watched as his eyes became glassy and he wiped at them with the back of his hands.
“If you can’t get back the old, you’ll just have to make new,” she stated with a smile.
“I don’t know if I can, Tina. What if she’s completely different? What if…”
“What if she wants someone else?”
“You can’t torture yourself like this,” Tina scolded him as they neared the shack. “There’s an endless amount of possibilities in the world, and not all of them are good. You just have to make it so that she learns to love you again; you’re soulmates for a reason. Don’t let her get away because you’re scared of the possibility of losing her, because if you do nothing, you will definitely lose her.”
“Maybe I should let her go,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the ground. There was an audible gasp from Dougal and the two turned to look at him. Within a second, the Demiguise darted foward and grabbed onto Newt’s hand, tugging him into the shack.
“Mr. Scamander,” Queenie breathed out as he burst into the shack. She was standing in the middle of the room, eyes closed as she faced the door.
“Dougal!” Newt exclaimed as the creature abandoned him for Queenie. Her eyes snapped open as Dougal latched onto her hand, gently tugging her to the ladder.
“What’s going on?” Tina questioned as she stepped into the shack.
“I-I don’t know,” Newt stammered out as he watched nervously. Queenie looked down at Dougal and let a sigh before looking at her sister and Newt.
“I can hear Y/N’s thoughts,” she said in a distant voice. “I think she’s remembering something.”
“W-What?” Newt choked out, heart swelling with hope that you would remember him.
“She was murdered in her life before this one, wasn’t she?”
“How did you-”
“She was dreaming about it.”
“Is she awake?” Newt frantically asked.
Queenie could barely get her words out before Newt was clumsily scrambling up the ladder. Dougal followed him, letting go of Queenie so he could climb out of the case. Once out, Newt raced to the guest room, bursting in with a worried expression.
“What’s going on?” You exclaimed from the bed. You were sitting upright, a glass of water in your hands as you looked at him with wide eyes.
“Are you alright?” Newt questioned, stepping towards you. You nodded slowly and set the glass on the nightstand beside the bed.
“I’m fine,” you reassured him. “Are you?”
“Of course,” he whispered, head lowering in embarrassment. “I just thought… it’s nothing.”
“It’s obviously not nothing,” you pointed out, waving him over so he could sit on the edge of the bed. Newt cautiously sat down with Dougal beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“What were you dreaming about, Y/N?”
“You know, don’t you? Queenie told you?” You quipped, staring at him with hardened eyes. Your jaw was clenched and face filled with a coldness that Newt had never seen before.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to help-”
“Please get out,” you ordered him. “I promise to come to you if I remember anything of significance. I just don’t want anyone to be in my head or-”
You moved your hands around as you talked, exposing your wrists to the air. Dougal grabbed onto one of your arms as you began to finish talking and you let out a shocked gasp.
“Dougal, let go of her!” Newt demand quickly reaching out to remove your arm from the creature’s grasp. He stopped short, however, as Dougal moved your wrist so it was facing Newt. There was a tattoo of a name where there hadn’t been one before.
“It’s your name,” you murmured out in fascination.
“I’m going to get your memories back, Y/N,” Newt promised in a shaking voice. “I’m going to fix this.”
“I’m Gutter. I’m a magical shortsword of backstabbing.”
Made Diath’s mysterious new shortsword for my cosplay for this weekend.
The fox head is resin cast from a clay sculpt, fit onto a PVC pipe wrapped with leather. The guard and sword body are carved from Balsa wood, with the blade being reinforced with Black Worbla. Channels have been carved out in the body of the sword for the LED lighting, with frosted polypropylene windows to diffuse the light.
The runes on the blade are Barazhad script, the official script for Abyssal. It reads “Gutter”.
(Not my gif but can you understand my Scotty feels?) Pairing: Montgomery Scott x Reader Word Count: 1,117 Warnings: Not so gentle swearing, some alcohol A/N: Welcome to the Scotty trashcan, I will be your guide. I’ve been experimenting with writing in the Scottish dialect so let me know if you have any opinion of it. Don’t forget to follow me for more fics if you like! Enjoy my loves xx
Bless me with some tiny logan and tiny virgil getting into trouble (somehow??) and patt wanting to ground them but they know that if they are cute enough they will get what they want which is ice cream and discovery channel watching. if you do it then bless you beacuse im havin the worst day of my life. Love you
Under no circumstances could I allow you to continue having a bad day, my friend, so HERE WE GO!!!!
“I didn’t mean to, Pat pat, honest!” Tiny Logan said pleadingly, trailing after an uncharacteristically furious Patton carrying a sobbing Tiny Virgil. He was livid, and it took a lot to get him to that point.
“Whether you meant to or not, the two of you could have been seriously injured or worse! This is exactly why we don’t let you play in the Long Term Memory Vaults without us. It’s not safe, Logan, and you know that. I’m extremely disappointed in both of you right now, but Virgil is hurt and we need to take care of that first.” Logan blew out a breath, looking at the floor, his shoulders slumped. He was curious, he hadn’t been to the Vaults since he’d turned tiny! And Virgil has always wanted to see the Vaults. He’d meant to bring Virge when they were big, but somehow things always got in the way. The trouble with the Vaults was that they were always moving, shifting. If were weren’t extremely careful, you really could get hurt, so Patton had a good point.
The two kids had been exploring when one of the stacks had started to swing inward at them. They’d run, and it would have been fine, but the neighboring stack started to swing towards them as well. They’d just barely managed to squeeze through the rapidly closing gap before the stacks slammed into each other. Virgil had tripped and skinned his knee pretty badly. Logan felt just awful about it, and when Patton had seen them sneaking out of the Vaults, with blood running down Virgil’s leg, well….Logan was pretty sure they were both in big trouble.
Patton sat Virgil on the edge of the bathroom counter, rummaging in the drawer for antiseptic and bandages. The darker side was still quietly crying, and he tried to summon a smile for him, knowing the child needed comfort right now.
“Okay, kiddo. We need to clean that knee up. What kind of band-aid would you like? We’ve got Avengers, Disney Princesses, Batman, Moana, or Spongebob?”
“….Moana.” Virgil said softly, wiping his tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. Patton pulled him into a gentle hug, and felt his little shadowling tremble.
“Please don’t be mad, Dad! We’re sorry, we really are!” It was said softly but earnestly, and Patton could feel a few fresh, hot tears soaking into his shirt. The harshest edge of his temper dulled, and he was still angry, but less so.
“We really are, Pat pat!!! I’m so sorry, I didn’t want Virge to get hurt. We’ll never do that again.” Logan piped up, wrapping both his arms around Patton’s leg. Oh, dammit, he wanted to stay mad! He was going to ground the both of them for scaring several years off of his life expectancy. When he pulled back and looked into Virgil’s nervous eyes, and down at Logan’s pleading ones, he felt the last of his temper blow away. WHY did they both have to be so CUTE?!?
“Promise me you will never do something like that again, boys. You scared me today. I thought something awful had happened, and I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to either of you.” Patton leaned down and picked up Logan, setting him next to Virgil on the counter. Two adorable faces peered up at him.
“We promise!” They said it in unison, both holding out pinkie fingers. He hooked his fingers with theirs, then offered his first real smile since the whole ordeal had began.
“Now, let’s get Virgil cleaned up!” He briskly washed out the scrape, putting on the antiseptic ointment and band-aid while Logan watched, fascinated. Virgil took it like a champ, not even wincing.
“All done! You were so brave, Virge. Good job!”
“Yeah, Virg! That was amazing.” Logan gave his friend an awkward, one armed squeeze, which Virgil hesitantly returned, his cheeks flushed.
“Dad….do you think we could maybe have ice cream…please?”
“Ooooh, ice cream! And can we watch Discovery?! I want to watch the show about sharks again. Virgil likes that one best.”
“….After the stunt you two pulled today, you want ice cream?” Patton said it slowly and with a definite air of disbelief. The two troublemakers looked at each other, then turned to him with adorable wide eyes and pleading faces.
“PLEEEAAAAASSSSEEE?” Again, with them talking in unison! Why did they have to have such cute pudgy cheeks??? Why did they have to look so overwhelmingly adorable?!
“We promised we wouldn’t do it again, and we’re sorry, Dad! Come on, ice cream and sharks?” Virgil wrapped his arms around his neck, nuzzling in to hide the devious smile on his face.
“Yeah, Pat pat! We really are sorry. Don’t you want ice cream with us?” Logan quickly picked up on Virgil’s game, leaning in and wrapping the older man in an enthusiastic hug, too.
The defeated sigh he released was the sound of victory (and ice cream) for both of them.
Might I request some Hypatia x Meagan Foster headcanons?
Despite being offered to come to the ship by Emily’s direct invitation, Hypatia still feels like intruder for the first few days, making herself as quiet and invisible as possible. She unpacks shyly and tries not to cause any racket. She hates being too much trouble for people and attracting too much attention, she’s glad the room she was allowed to take is small and stacked with supplies, barely leaving her any room to sleep - this way she doesn’t feel like the space is wasted on her presence.
Meagan can’t quell her irrational annoyance at first, disling the idea of strangers aboard her ships, even if Emily insist she can be trusted, and the fact that said stranger barely makes her own presence known and avoid leaving her cabin altogether is the only way to excuse it. She overhears them chat quietly, however, sees Alexandria’s gangly hands held in Emily’s, in an awkward yet honest gesture of comfort, and something shifts in her mood, just a little. She brews her some tea infused with lemon later that evening, refreshing in the heat. Alexandria thanks her, absentmindedly, and cradles the cup gently in her hands, even those her gaze wanders off and her thoughts are clearly elsewhere.
Another day however, once Alexandria gets a reasonable amount of sleep hours for the first time in weeks, months, years, she grows resteless, her distate for doing nothing crashing down on her as a wave, and her hands are itchy for work, any sort of work to keep herself busy, exhaust herself again with any mundane labour she can find aboard the ship, to keep her thoughts at bay. She asks Meagan’s permission to get the supplies in order, clean their little kitchen up. Meagan allows her, barely paying attention, but the last thing she expects to see upon returning there is every single spice there alphabetized, and accepts a cup of coffee from her now steady, confident hands. Her gratitude, she says.
Meagan guards her privacy well, at all times, the key to her cabin never leaves her person and always hangs on a chain underneath her coat, and she stiffens a bit when their insomnia hours on the deck overlap, expecting small talk and inquiring questions, but nothing happens. They mostly sit in silence, Meagan smoking her pipe, Alexandria wrapped in an old, tattered blanket she brought from her bed, and only when a whale emerges from the water, Alexandria says quietly, more to herself, that the last time she saw a whale so close was when she travelled to Dunwall, to the academy, so many years ago, so far away from home and so miserably seasick. They sit closer on that night, and Meagan finds herself talking, and talking, more than she did in years, talking about how she took the ship 15 years ago and never looked back. How small her entire life felt, how easy it seemed to leave it behind and start anew, when a creature this huge, huge enough to swallow you entirely, passes by your boat. How there was something magical and otherwordly about the whales, something not quite the same as any other living creature, but on that night, she withholds the entire truth.
They cook together once Sokolov is on the boat, in silent yet efficient team-up, as if they’ve been at it for years. The boat feels overcrowded, but somehow, right now Meagan doesn’t mind. She finds herself wishing she was younger and bolder, and still remembering how say things without overthinking it, without giving out too much, wishes she would find the words to tell Alexandria that she’s not overstaying her welcome, not at all, that she doesn’t have to prove her right to be present by examinig Sokolov’s physical condition or cleaning up the storage room. The heavy, salty air of the southern seas has been her home for more than a decade, but Meagan takes the invitation seriously. “The Dreadful Wale has been my home for weeks, you can always come to mine”.
It feels odd, being in one place for so long after sleeping in a captain’s cabin for so long, for almost the third of her life, with no heavy roll of the ocean under your feet, with people coming and going - but doing something together, keeping your hands busy together in a blissful, understanding silence, brings a sense of familiarity, as if they’ve been at it for years, as if they studied together or something. Meagan has little scientific knowledge, has no fancy certificate in her cabinet, but the knowledge of stitching wounds with a steady, determinant hand, cauterizing the wounds, preparing the paste from the simplest, cheapest-to-acquire ingredients, the harsh skill of staying alive or keeping alive with the bare minimum on your hands, the battlefiled kind of medicine, returns to her as if it was yesterday. They’re an odd duo, she thinks, as their hands both tore things apart, and brought them back together, but it’s a comfort, to work together on the latter now.
The key to a locked cabin of her ship, waiting just outside the Institute, lays on the ocean’s bottom, as Meagan found the place closest to home,
Summary : Imagine working for Mycroft and working with him and Sherlock after his fall to take down Moriarty’s network, but when it’s time for him to go back to London Sherlock says his goodbyes.
You had been in the awaiting car with Mycroft as you watched him ‘fall’ from the roof. You watched as his friend cried and when John was dragged away by other agents disguised as civilians, Sherlock walked to the car while the agents placed Moriarty’s body in his place - a mask of his face over his.
He was risking a reputation he’d built to protect the people he cared about. For a man that claimed he felt nothing - he seemed to care a lot.