specially made cake

So once for a birthday of mine my mom made a special chocolate cake for me. Being little, she never told me the name of it, but it was delicious chocolatey goodness.

So a few years later Mom told me the name of the cake. It’s called the ‘better than sex’ cake (???) because it’s so good, it’s better than sex.

Before my grampy (dad’s dad) died, Mom happened to make the cake again for a party and the whole family was there. Grampy asked what the name of the cake was. Mom was hesitant to tell, as her parents-in-law were quite strict Catholics and even mentioning the word ‘sex’ around them was nearly a sin in its own right.

Well, Grampy kept pressuring Mom for the name of the cake so he could make Grandma make it in the future. Eventually, Mom broke down and told him.

Grandma turned white, then pink. Grampy, on the other hand, looked down at his plate, looked at the cake, then took another bite and said,

“This is better than sex!”

anonymous asked:

how does the copycat incident happen in the younger!au

felt like writing a drabble for this one- the younger au is so much fun to indulge in :)

In retrospect, Marinette wonders if none of this would have happened had she just gone to the 7th anniversary celebration of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s appearance in Paris.

In her defense, 7 years isn’t exactly a milestone. 5? Yes. 10? Undoubtedly. And she still remembers their 1st anniversary, back when they were 9 years old and new to the whole superhero thing, was so exciting and fun- the whole city had thrown a parade for the popular young heroes and the most wonderful part of the day was when her father had made a special cake for both of them, not knowing that he was making a celebratory cake for his own daughter.

But that was 6 years ago, and Marinette cannot be blamed for being a little over the whole celebratory thing. Aren’t people used to them by now? It’s true that she’s proud of being the city’s heroine, and that people look to her and Chat Noir to save the day, but over the past year, while she’s been fighting supernatural villains and grappling with her overwhelming feelings for her best friend, and she can’t be bothered to show up to yet another silly and ultimately meaningless ceremony sponsored by Mayor Bourgeois, especially when she has an important task to accomplish.

Namely, that Alya dared Marinette to ask Adrien to a movie last night and in a burst of confidence she actually called his phone and left the following message:    

Hi Adrien! It’s Marinette from your class and I just wanted to ask you to the movies because isn’t it funny? I’ve known you like forever but you don’t even know that- actually never mind- forget I said that, anyway you’re really cute and I think we should watch a movie and I love your laugh okay bye!!

Even Alya stared at her with a combination of amusement and pity afterward, and she cannot be blamed for wanting to use her powers to delete this embarrassment of a voicemail from the world.

Is it really such a surprise, then, that she prioritizes using this time, which she knows is when Adrien is supposed to be in fencing practice, to steal his phone and delete the evidence, instead of going to yet another ceremony?

Marinette would say it’s only fair.

He’s going to be at the ceremony, focused on his duty as Chat Noir. By the time he gets back to school, she’ll be long gone, the evidence deleted.

Adrien can’t help but notice that Ladybug hasn’t quite been the same, ever since they got their real powers and started fighting akumas. They’ve been best friends for years. He knows her too well to not realize when something is off and something is definitely off.  

He didn’t realize it at first, cushioned in the weight of his newly born infatuation with her, lost in her familiar blue eyes and the weight of their rock solid partnership. But he can’t help but notice that she’s been getting more distant recently, responding to his jokes in a way that seem playful, but don’t quite reach her eyes.

It’s weird, feeling so connected to her and yet at the same time feeling so distant, and so when she doesn’t show up to the 7th anniversary celebration, well, it also hurts. Especially because over the past few months, whispers and rumors have circulated Paris about the status of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s relationship, and if they’re more than friends.

Of course, they deny every interview request that focuses on this topic and wave away any prying questions, but Adrien can’t deny that he is falling in love with his best friend.

If only she felt the same way. But he doesn’t want her to be uncomfortable, especially when it’s obvious that she’s going through something complicated and messy internally. He won’t pry unless she opens up to him, and he doesn’t want to burden her with the weight of his feelings.

So he keeps them to himself, with the exception of Master Fu and Plagg. They are the only ones who know.

Still, Adrien has a little perverse streak, so when that annoying sculptor Theo confesses his feelings to him, Chat Noir can’t help but indulge a little bit in the fantasy that the Parisian tabloids have woven.

Chat Noir can practically hear Master Fu scolding him in his head, especially as he can see Theo’s face falling as he learns about the “deep friendship that turned into love” between the two heroes.

So he’s not surprised, really, when Copycat shows up, just mildly guilty. But he’s not about to admit it to anyone.

“Our special secret, you say?” says Ladybug, raising her eyebrow at the Chat Noir pinned underneath her. “Our secret love?”

“Yes, of course,” says ‘Chat Noir’,  looking at her with a keen expression and a naked desire in his needy eyes.

She immediately knows that he’s not the one. He’s not her kitty cat, the one she left a ridiculous voicemail for that she’s going to have to delete later, because he was a speedy kitty and got back to school much faster than she thought he would.  

“Copycat!“ she cries, and she tells the imposter with pride in her voice that she knows he’s not the one because Ladybug and Chat Noir have no secret love, that they are best friends and partners but no more.

She leaves out the part where she wishes it wasn’t true, and she misses entirely the sadness in her real partner’s eyes, the way his ears and tail both droop when he leaves after the battle.

He’s not the only one whose heart you broke, Chat Noir whispers softly, as he trudges more than he walks as he leaves the scene.

Later, over a cup of tea at Master Fu’s, the old man scolds Adrien for being reckless and putting both himself and Ladybug in danger, and to try not to be the cause of emotional distress for any citizens of Paris, now that Hawk Moth is on the loose.

But he knows that young love knows nothing of safety or danger, that it simply knows what it desires, and that eventually, it will find the right path.

It would be so easy, thinks the old man, to tell both the young heroes the truth about their identities, to tell them that now is the right time to reveal the truth to each other, that it’s the right time.

But it isn’t, not yet.

Someday, they will learn. But today is not that day.

Take You Down (Yugyeom)

Request: you give Yugyeom a lap dance and he gets all flustered but then like grabs ur hips or smth idk have fun

Length: 864 words

Genre: Suggestive/Fluff/Almost smut

*A/N: when you see the (x), open the link in another tab. It’s a link to Chris Brown’s Take You Down. The scenario is a lot more saucy if you read it in time with the song ;-)

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anonymous asked:

(@Killua-isms) hey ruby i made a special cake for you

Ruby:…..please define what “special” means because I’m scared right now.

It’s My Birthday

summary: it’s your birthday, and sam has a special but cheesy gift for you.

pairing: sam x reader (no actual romance but like, u don’t have to be a genius to see the romance, because believe me, it’s there)

warnings: so mUHC FLUFF, and one bad word, also this sucks, like,,, it sucks believe me but!!!!! i just hope ya like it.

word count: 1027 words

a/n: hAPPY (LATE) BIRTHDAY @capdanrogers YOU PRECIOUS LITTLE PUMPKIN I LOVE YOU AND HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY!!!!!!!! u deserve it and ur wonderful and amazing and sweet and beautiful and ur great ily

Originally posted by theunclaimedgeneration

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anonymous asked:

Nonsexual cuddling prompt: Regina sick, cuddly and clingy. BD-verse or BI(post couple)

It’s four days before their wedding when Robin arrives home to find Regina sitting on their sofa in tears.

“Lovely, what’s wrong?” he asks sympathetically, reaching out to brush his hand over her cheek. It’s flushed and warm, and he brushes dampness away with his thumb as she shudders in a breath and sniffles.

“I’m sick,” she croaks, her voice cracking with tears, rasping a bit underneath it all. “It started this morning, and now…” He can hear it more then, the scratch, the depth, the stuffiness perhaps born of more than tears. She gestures to the nightstand and the small collections of balled tissues there, and Robin’s heart aches for her.

Of all the times…

“I’m sorry, my love,” he murmurs, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her brow, and then each cheek in turn.

But Regina turns her head, ducks away from his touch. 

“Don’t,” she protests. “The last thing we need is you sick, too.”

“I’m immune,” he tells her confidently. “Been vaccinating myself with kisses all week.” As if to prove his point, he ducks his head in, stealing her mouth for a brief moment. This time, she doesn’t pull away, sinks into him instead, her arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

She’s warm. Feverish, he thinks; he can feel the heat under her skin when he lets their kiss end and presses his cheek to hers for a moment. 

“Come here,” he urges, stealing the blanket she’d had draped over her curled legs and urging her to make space for him on the sofa. She does, and he stretches out along the cushions, tucks her into his side, sandwiched snugly between his body and the back of the couch. She snuggles into him as he spreads the blanket over them again, her head pressing into his chest before she coughs, one hand covering her mouth. There’s a hollow hoarseness to it that has him lifting a hand to stroke through her hair. “It’ll be alright,” he soothes.

“No, it won’t!” She sniffles, wipes angrily at her cheeks with the hand not wedged between them. “We’re getting married in four days. I can’t be sick; we still have so much to do.”

“I’ll take care of it. All of it,” he assures. “Don’t you worry a bit, my love. You just rest.”

“You can’t take care of everything,” she grumbles, and oh, just watch him try. He’ll take care of every damned thing and then some, he will make this day perfect for her. And he’ll rid this damned cold from her with sheer force of will if he has to.

“You’ve already had your final dress fitting, yeah?” he asks, and she nods, cuddles in impossibly closer, her knee wedging in between his, chilly toes finding their way beneath the hem of his jeans and to the warmth of his calf. “And your dress is at Emma’s now. That’s the only thing I’m not allowed to see. Every thing else, I can handle. Just leave me a list tomorrow of what’s left to be done, and I’ll take care of it all before the weekend.” He presses his lips to her brow again, breathes in the familiar scent of her hair. “You just get better, my love.”

“I still have to make Roland’s cake,” she sighs, her voice hitching with the threat of a fresh wave of tears, and they can’t have that. 

“You’re still going in to work, I assume?” Because she’ll always work. Rain or shine, health or ill, she doubles her hand-washing and soldiers on. And with a week of vacation coming up, he knows she’ll not take a day to rest. Not even if it would help her get better faster.

Sure enough, she nods, a few errant strands of her hair tickling his neck.

“Take some time during the day, make it then.”

Her hand presses hard enough into his chest that he oofs as she uses it to lever herself up and glare down at him, a blotchy, red-eyed, gorgeous fury. “I can’t make it at work, Robin, the kitchen isn’t fucking gluten-safe.” Shit. She’s cursing. And he’s an idiot. “You know that. I have to make it here. I promised him a special cake just for him.”

Right. That.

He curses that bloody diagnosis, and not for the first time (they’ve made do, have had a grand old time taste testing gluten-free recipe after gluten-free recipe. Roland still kicks up a fuss about not being able to taste test all the treats at Forbidden Fruit, but his eyes light up every time Regina slips him a carefully Ziploc-sealed confection from their own kitchen, and for that he wants to propose to her all over again).

Still, there’s another solution, an easy one she just can’t see through her pre-wedding jitters and mucus-stuffed head. Robin lifts a hand to her hair again and asks, “When do you need it done by?”

“Friday, at the latest.”

She’s hitching breaths again, tears leaking down her cheeks. Robin brushes them away and offers, “If you’re not feeling better by Friday, have Belle come by and make it then. Roland would be beside himself to have a special cake made just for him by Auntie Belle, hmm?”

She sighs, and nods, concedes with a pouty, “I guess…” And then a watery, “I don’t want to be sick at my wedding.”

“You won’t be,” he swears, drawing her back down to his chest, tracing his fingers through her long locks. “We’ll stuff you full of tea, and orange juice, and vitamin C, and herbs. And you’ll sleep. I’ll take care of Henry, and school, and everything else that needs to be done, and you’ll rest.” He noses into her crown, drops a soft kiss there. Another. One more. “And you’ll wake up on Saturday, my beautiful bride, and you will be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and well, and as you’ve not been spending the last few days running around after all the odd tasks left to be done, you’ll be well-rested and relaxed…”

She snorts a laugh against him and he grins. That’s better. Much better.

“Thank you,” she rasps, settling further into his side, getting comfortable. He hasn’t had dinner yet, still has his shoes on, but he resigns himself to the idea that he’ll likely not be moving from this spot for a while.

Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made, especially when brides-to-be are having a minor meltdown. 

“Anything for you, lovely,” he whispers, adjusting the arm he’s had wrapped over her back, letting the other continue to trace curling trails from her temple, behind her ear, down along her neck. “You just rest now, alright? Close your eyes.”

“You’ll be stuck here,” she protests, although he can already hear the heavy sleepiness of her voice, the exhaustion of an illness-crying-jag one-two punch dragging her down quickly.

“If I minded being stuck with you, my love, I wouldn’t be marrying you.”

She laughs, smacks weakly at his chest, and Robin chuckles.

And then she stills, and breathes, and within minutes she’s heavy against his side (as heavy as a wedding-weight Regina Mills can manage to be, anyway), snoring softly. Sound asleep.

Robin stays until the grumbling of his stomach competes with the rumble of her congested sinuses, and then carefully, oh-so-carefully, extricates himself and heads for sustenance, and the wedding binder.

There are things to do, after all.

anonymous asked:

I was wondering what your all time favorite lashton moment is?

this is actually a reALLY hard question

but let me tell you about a glorious day

october 30th, 2013

aka the last day of the TMH tour


this happened while i was asleep bc time zones and i woke up that morning and saw this picture (courtesy of luke’s mom, bless her heart):

and i literally CHOKED ON MY CEREAL bc i’d been a closet lashton shipper for a while before this happened and then i decided FUCK IT I WANT TO SEE THEM MAKE OUT AND I’M NOT EVEN GOING TO HIDE IT ANYMORE

and now we’re here (〃^∇^)ノ


Happy 3 months anniversary my love ~♥ @askmalengil

this didnt happened
( cause where we live dont snow lmao)
It is based on a fanfic that our friend from for us ♥♥♥


Pastel de Tres Leches
By IMercer

For Piercing and Taquito
-may this ship sail forever-

Taquito looked at her watch; the time was 11:00pm.

She slumped back into the couch cushion, frustrated that Piercing was late… this of all nights? Her birthday. “Idiot… he better have a good excuse” She mumbled to herself, crossing her arms and frowning.

Moments later, her phone rang. It was a text from Piercing. She picked up her phone and began to read… The message said: “SORRY HONEY, WILL BE THERE IN A FEW MINUTES!!!!11” Her eyes widened in rage, a few more minutes?! He was already late…
Wow, what a birthday.

As she was about to put the phone down, there was a sudden loud knock at the door. At the other end of the door was a sweaty and panting young man with brown hair… It was Piercing. He clutched the box of cake in his hands as he waited nervously for Taquito to open the door. He knew he was gonna die for being late, but it was worth it as he was late because he had the cake specially made with an engagement ring as a decoration on the icing. Happy anniversary my love ♥♥

BTS High School Love AU


“Go on, you can say it.” Jimin would urge with a smirk as he readjusts his glasses. “Mr. Park-” you keep your voice low, looking around the school’s library to make sure no one could hear. “Mr. Park, I don’t understand question number five. Can you please explain it to me?” You ask with a blush. “That’s an easy one.” He’d say resting his arm on the back of your chair and leaning in to see your paper. The heat of his chest and his breath so close to your ear coupled with the teasing roleplay causes your heart to flutter widely. “See, you just carry this number.” He’d explain. “Oh, I get it. Thanks, Jimin.” You’d say, finally understanding the problem. He’d suddenly place his hand over yours possessively and lean in real close. “You know to call me Mr. Park when we’re in here. Maybe I should spank you with a ruler and then you’d remember.” He’d whisper into your ear huskily.


You had lunch with Yoongi everyday. Now that it was nearing summer it was finally nice enough to eat outside. And to celebrate the beautiful weather your school even made all the students sweet roll cakes. You two sat out underneath the yard’s prettiest tree. A soft wind blew through your hair and you looked to Yoongi. “The coffee and cake are so good. Would you like some?” You offer the cake as you take another sip of your frappuccino, but Yoongi shakes his head, “I’m not a big fan of sweets but coffee-” He guides your chin towards him so he can kiss you. You’re so shocked you freeze, but his warm lips make it easy to give in. His tongue is expertly exploring your mouth and he ends the kiss by pecking your lips one more time. “Vanilla bean, right?”


“I can’t believe they started that rumor about me.” You pout looking down at the ground but your boyfriend squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it, jagi. It doesn’t matter what they’re saying about you. I don’t believe any of your friends would take it serious.” Hoseok assured you. A few girls in your class were big fans of the upperclassman called Hoseok. You could even call them his fan club. Once they found out you were dating they started numerous rumors about you. This newest rumor went something along the lines of you cheating your way to the top of your class. You sigh as you two walk the school grounds. The autumn day was surprisingly warm as the leaves started to fall from the trees. Although It was really beautiful, you couldn’t help but feel disheartened. “Hey, not all rumors are bad, you know.” Hoseok says, nodding in the direction of the same girls from class sitting across the courtyard. “What do you mean?” You ask and he suddenly backs you up against a tree, immediately causing their eyes to shift over to you. “Are they watching?” Hoseok asks with his hands braced against the tree. “Yes.” You whisper, just barely being able to see over his shoulder. “Good.” Hoseok pecks your lips nose and cheeks repeatedly, showering you in sweet affection. “Ah- Hoseok, isn’t this too much?” You ask between giggles. “Shh. I’m enjoying myself too much.” He takes it even a step further as he turns and motions for you to hop on his back. “Ready? Ah, jagiya, you really could stand to lose some weight.” He teases in a sing song voice once you’re comfortable piggy backing him. You wrap your arms around his neck, tightly hugging him in gratitude. Your heart feels light as a feather. 


 "Let’s have a study date tonight.“ He’d say during class and this makes you giggle. "You don’t need to study.” You whisper. “I do with you.” Namjoon nudges you playfully. “Kim Namjoon!” The teacher would suddenly yell, “Since you feel so talkative during the lecture, please speak some more and recite the answers to the last five questions we’ve just discussed in class.” Which Namjoon easily does. “See? You don’t need to study.” You tease him. “Jagiiiiiii.” He’d whine with a small pout. You could never get over how cute he was with you. The rest of the school knew him as a tough and serious man who was the top of the class, but around you he melted into a puddle of whining pouts. “Okay, okay. Come over tonight. But I’m pretty sure my mom has figured out that we don’t actually study on our ‘study’ dates.” “Good! That means I don’t have to carry my heavy text books all the way to your house.” Namjoon kicks his feet up in triumph.


Being lab partners with Jin was a blessing and a nightmare. “I don’t understand any of this.” He’d whine as he let his forehead fall against his text book. “Honestly, Jin. If you just paid attention during the lectures you wouldn’t be struggling like this.” You shake your head at him, easily following the teacher’s instructions. “How am I supposed to focus on a boring lecture when I have such a beautiful face sitting right next to me? Honestly, teacher set me up for failure.” He swivels in his chair triumphantly as he watched the blush spread across your face. But you’re not having any of it. “Don’t blame me for your ineptitude, Jin.” You say with a sweet smile. “Ineptitude.” Jin repeats with a sullen purse of his lips. “Well if the underclassman who got into the senior chemistry program says I need to study, I guess I need to study.” He’d say as he props his textbook upright. He still wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off you as he peeked over the pages. 


You and Jungkook were a force to be reckoned with in gym class. Whether it was soccer, badminton, volleyball, or even rock climbing. Your competitive attitudes came crashing out and neither of you could reign it in. Every time teams were chosen Jungkook would immediately run to you. His friends would tease him for picking a girl over the guys, but they would soon her very, very sorry they ever said anything. “Yes!” Jungkook would yell triumphantly after you score the winning goal, scooping you up in his arms, jumping up and down in celebration. Jungkook would publicly gloat, “Wait, what was it that you said earlier?” He’d ask his friends as they kicked at the soccer field. “Nothing, Jungkook. Sheesh, we get it.” They’d mumble while not being able to look into your eyes. “Pabo.” Jungkook would tease as he stuck his tongue out. “Come on.” He’d say while wrapping his arms around your shoulder to go find some other game to kick ass at. 


Taehyung is your favorite subject to capture. Sometimes he’d get annoyed at your constant photo taking, but you’d make it up to him by posing for his newest painting. You spent countless hours together, during and after school hours, in the art room. One night while in the dark room, you find a box of film rolls with your name marked on them. You examine the negatives closely. This must be a mistake. You think to yourself. You proceed to develop the photos, watching as breath taking images start to appear in the liquid. These were photos of you. One where you were fast asleep in Tae’s large t-shirt, tangled in the covers of his bed. The next where you were making breakfast in his kitchen. You blush slightly at the image of your very exposed bum. You move on to the next photo and it’s you smiling with an ice cream cone in the park. You remembered this day, it was when you and Tae went to celebrate him getting first place in the school’s the art show. You connected the dots: these were all taken by him. “Surprise.” He suddenly hugs you from behind, kissing your cheek. “When did you take all these?” You gasp, looking down at the still dozens of rolls of undeveloped film. “The past twelve months.” He says, looking at the photos over your shoulder. He points to the photo of your bum, “That one’s my favorite. You smack him playfully. “I’m not surprised.” You turn to face him. “Twelve months is how long we’ve been dating.” You state. “Exactly twelve months.” He nods. In the dim room, surrounded by hundreds of reason Taehyung loves you, you can’t even begin to describe the flood of emotions you were feeling. “You’re always the one behind the lens. I think someone as stunning as you should also be captured. Happy anniversary.” Taehyung kisses you and he kisses you hard.


i got a tad carried away

Presence vs. Presents

“Sherlock, you’re missing the party.” They’d entered thirteen shops. They’d exited thirteen shops. Sherlock still had not purchased anything.

Indeed, the man looked ready to rip his hair out. He was red faced and his usual immaculate ensemble was skewed. John backed away quickly as Sherlock faced him with a glower.

“None of these things suit her. None of them.”

“You could get her clothes?” Sherlock shook his head furiously, dark curls bouncing in every direction.

“Done that already. Replaced her whole wardrobe. No. No.” His fingers drummed together. “Has to be something new. Something she’d not expect.”

“The problem is Sherlock, you’ve spoiled her. What is she not going to expect at this point? Besides, you’re already late—” A large hand cut him off. A grin spread across pointed lips.

“Oooh.” John recognized that look. He’d figured out his puzzle.

“What? What is it?” It was just a present, but with the way Sherlock was acting… He needed to make sure it wasn’t something morbid, like body parts or some sort.

“I’ve got it figured. The perfect gift.” A small clap, a dramatic whip of his coat around, and Sherlock was off.

“Where are you going? What’s the perfect gift?”

“Go tell Molly I’ll be there later tonight.”

“Sherlock, she’s going to be mad. The party started an hour ago!” The doctor watched his best friend head in the direction of a butcher house and prayed to all that was holy that he wouldn’t come home with something severed.

“Then I suggest you hurry, John.”

John shook his way on his way to her flat. By the time he’d reached it the party was already winding down. The poor girl looked like she might cry. After she took off the head of the one and only Consulting Detective. His attempt to explain were ignored, and she only reddened further when he told her Sherlock at least seemed positive he’d gotten her a great gift.

The hours wore on. People filtered out from her door, leaving only John and Mary. Mrs. Hudson had agreed to watch Emma, thankfully. The lack of a child gave them the excuse to sit here in awkward silence while Molly fumed.

It was well after midnight when the door banged open, Sherlock silhouetted dramatically by the streetlights outside. Molly was not impressed. Not even with his silly ear hat.

“Sherlock bloody Holmes! I’ll have you know you humiliated me in front of everyone, you twat!” John nudged Mary, the two of them sweeping up their supplies and trying to dart away. Molly pinned them. “John’s been here trying to make excuses for you all night! And poor Mary, she made a special cake just for you!” She gestured wildly in the direction of a rather nice looking strawberry cake with one slice cut from it.

“Yes, well I—”

“I could care less about some silly gift! Do you really think some shoes or jewelry or make up is going to make up for this? You missed my birthday Sherlock! That’s a bit more than not good!” Footsteps crashed on her wooden floor, the derailing of Molly Hooper enough to root all three of her spectators to the floor.

“Well, I was rather hoping—”

“That you’d just waltz in here and say something charming and sweep me off my feet? No! When we started dating, you agreed to certain things and my birthday party was one of those—” It was her turn to stop abruptly as the great Sherlock dropped to one knee, patting around in his jacket for something. Her jaw dropped. He couldn’t be.

He glared at her. “Yes, well, as I was saying.” He opened a box, popping open a black velvet lid. It was a ring. A lovely, silver and emerald ring. Just as she’d explained in one of her ramblings. He’d been listening.

“Molly Hooper, if I’m not too much of an asshat, would you have me to be your terribly awkward fool in the legal convention of marriage?”

It was as romantic as Sherlock ever got.

“Of course, Sherlock. Yes. Yeah.” 


Anonymous: Prompt idea featuring Kid!Bill/Older!Dipper: Dipper hurts Bills’ feelings pretty bad and decides out of guilt to gives him a kiss on the cheek to cheer Bill up, realizing far too late it was a bad idea.

I can’t believe someone gave me a specific Kid!Bill and Older!Dipper prompt! Gosh! This just makes my heart flutter and my face hurt from smiling so much. (You know, when I first got this, I had an entirely different plan for it.) This is the first Kid!Bill and Older!Dipper prompt I’ve gotten and I just got some more. Makes me way to happy still.


                “Please stay,” Dipper begged as he chased the darker skinned woman to the door. “I don’t know what I did, but please don’t go.” He only left her with Bill for a moment and when he came back into the room she told him she was already leaving. He wasn’t stupid. This has happened to nearly every date of his that’s run into Bill. Surprisingly, this has never happened to any of Mabel’s dates.


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