You couldn’t help it, you LOVE how your fat ass body just grow and grow. The constant sweet treats and greasy food was gonna eventually show on your figure. Every step you take, your jiggly round belly move from each movement. It sloshes back and forth side to side also causing your huge belly button to jiggle from each step. You always scratch your gut after moving around because it get so itchy; that’s the most exercise you get. Your belly is the biggest thing on you; you looks to be almost 9 months pregnant and also just love food. It doesn’t matter what shirt you had on, it just wouldn’t cover that blob of fat. It was soft and always shiny, that usual glow on your gut you have from stuffing yourself with high amounts of food. Your thighs are fat, strain against any type of denim bottoms so you just decided to wear leggings. Your boobs are outrageously huge; the fat of them jiggle with each step as well. Your love handles are to die for; it’s tempting to touch the sides of your body. And your back fat, how can we forget that? It fights against your bra straps and shirts and pokes out perfectly. Plus, your fat cheeks are adorable, begging to get filled with food so it can continue to grow.
You hate how nothing really fits, how you huff and puff after doing simple things like running to the bus stop or whatever. But you’re a fat pig, and that’s the consequences for letting yourself go.
Why are you even mad?
If you don’t like it, change your diet.
Oh, but those desserts and fatty foods are delicious aren’t they?
It’s obvious you love to eat, I mean look at your fat ass, your leggings are straining for relief from those thunder thighs and your fat butt. All you do is sit and it just helps the calories spread.
Youre annoyed you can barely fit in booths at restaurants? You can piggy just try your best to suck your gut in and squeeze through. You might get stuck after eating your feast, but that’s the price you have to pay for letting yourself go.
Of course, I don’t mind that you’re a pig; shows you have a great appetite. Question is,
Don’t you love how fat you are?
Doesn’t it turns you on?
I know it does, you helpless pig. How about I help you become the pig you are? That’s just the price you have to pay now, for letting yourself go.
I wanted to try doing something with multiple parts to celebrate VLD’s anniversary (the first part went up on the 10th)… and I can’t believe how well received this was! Thanks so much to everyone who’s given me such kind feedback!!I’ve got lots of plans for future writing, so hopefully you can look forward to that and not be too sad that this is over now? I hope you like the way I ended it… enjoy!!
tumbled out of the healing pod like he did so many other things;
without warning. The others were sat around the room when suddenly
the walls of the pod disappeared, and the blue paladin fell forward.
He would’ve face-planted into the floor of the infirmary if Hunk
hadn’t been there to catch him.
He looked around
in confusion for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the bright
lights, and met the gaze of his best friend.
he smiled, voice raspy and uneven. “Miss me?”
sighed with relief, giving Lance a shaky grin of his own. “You know
I did,” he admitted. “Don’t you dare
scare me like that again. I was worried sick!”
Lance laughed, and
let himself be wrapped up in one of Hunk’s signature, bone-crushing
hugs. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “Guess I should be more careful.
So, what’d I miss?” He looked around at the others with an
expectant smile on his face, but it wavered quickly. The rest of the
team all looked worse for the wear themselves.
Pidge’s eyes were
red-rimmed and puffy, while Shiro looked even more worn down than
usual. Allura and Coran both stood off to the side, with strained
expressions of relief. Keith was leaning against the wall with his
arms crossed, stoic and silent as usual, but Lance could see the bags
under his eyes. In short, they all looked exhausted.
guys?” Lance asked uncertainly, voice catching. “Why all the grim
looks? What’s wrong?”
after that episode (!!!), prompt: alec and magnus post-near-death experience reunion in battle?? <3
The ground is burnt, charred and scorched from magic and flames,
and Alec’s shoulders heave as he stares at the mangled remains of
the demon on the sand, white bone peeking out, coated in black ichor
like ink spilled on paper. His bow is shaking in his grip though,
shaking because he can’t see Magnus. Magnus, who he’d called for
help despite their fallout, who’d arrived seconds later stepping
out of a glowing portal, whose gaze had swept over Alec to check if
he was okay before sending bolts of red sizzling toward the sharp
claws of a demon roaring behind Alec’s back.
He starts to run, stumbling on a half-twisted ankle and wincing at
deep cuts as his eyes seek out Magnus. His breath comes shorter
when all he sees are mutilated demon parts strewn about haphazardly,
no warlock, no Magnus, no –
Alec skids to a halt.
Magnus emerges from behind a mass of bodies, the magic at his
palms crackling so hot that the air around him goes blurry. He looks
like righteous fury, mouth twisted in a snarl and amber eyes shining
as smears of blood streak across his cheek, broad shoulders heaving with every exhale. His jacket is torn along
the collar, his pants ripped and stained, but Alec has never seen
Magnus look so alive, like a god who could decimate the world with a
snap of his fingers, and Alec feels guilty for the way his gut
clenches with want.
“Magnus,” he sighs, pressure easing in his throat.
At the sound of his name, Magnus turns, and suddenly the violence
in him extinguishes like a candle that’s been blown out until he’s
just Magnus again, scanning his eyes over Alec, lingering on bloody
clothes and his limping gait. Neither of them move as a warm breeze
blows between them, and Alec feels something sour growing in his
chest. This is all they’re going to have now, isn’t it? Longing
glances and blood running too fast in their veins, memories of soft
smiles and heady kisses and a rose-tinted future shoved to the side.
God, standing out here on the battlefield, Magnus just a few feet
away, Alec feels like he’s suffocating, like he can’t breathe for
all they’ve given up, and –
Alec sees something in Magnus’s expression shift, sees his
muscles coil under his skin like a cat about to pounce, yet he’s
unprepared when Magnus rushes toward him like a flood, when Magnus
touches him, his hand wrapping around the back of Alec’s neck and
pulling him down an inch until their lips touch. Alec gasps, helpless against Magnus’ strength as he tastes smoke
and fire on his tongue, feeling Magnus’s fingers stroke at his hair
as their teeth click together, inelegant and sloppy and perfect. His
own hands find purchase at Magnus’s hard waist, grabbing at torn leather
that stings his palms with still-dripping ichor, his heartbeat
pounding in his ears. He drags Magnus in, plastering their bodies
together until there’s no room for light or air, until all he can feel is the solid, immovable weight of Magnus against him, reveling in the
sensation that Magnus is here, alive and well, with him.
Has it been days or years since he last did this?
But suddenly, Magnus tears away from Alec, wrenching himself
backwards out of Alec’s grasp, and Alec reflexively grabs hard at
Magnus’s biceps, stopping him in his tracks. Magnus is breathing
heavily, eyes gleaming like molten gold, lips split-slick, and he’s
watching Alec with something fierce in his gaze.
“You’re okay, Alexander,” he says, the words harsh and
guttural and strained with relief. “You’re okay.”
Alec swallows thickly and clenches too tight to Magnus’s hands,
feeling the knuckles creak. He looks down at his hands – their hands
– eyes following the way Magnus’s silver rings gleam dully in the
sunlight, the way they burn like brands against his skin, warm from
Magnus’s magic. He sees the way Magnus’s fingers curl naturally
around his own, the way they always do.
“Are we okay?” he asks, finally looking up.
He realizes Magnus has been staring at him the entire time, gaze
quiet and lingering despite the havoc around them, and his cheeks
heat up. It’s a private look. It’s how Magnus looks at him in the
morning, when Alec wakes up with his face pillowed on Magnus’s
chest. It’s how Magnus looks at him when he brings Magnus coffee,
or when he rubs his shoulders after a long day, and something
familiar starts to click back into place as he waits for Magnus to
But Magnus doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, quiet,
It’s barely anything, but Alec doesn’t care. It’s a nod. A
nod that says yes to trying, and yes to tomorrow, and yes to things
Alec thought he’d lost. A nod that gives him permission to pull
Magnus closer, to burrow his face in Magnus’s neck, and to ignore
the war around them, just for a moment, in favor of holding onto the
only person Alec has ever wanted for himself.
Summary: The Doctor (Eleven) is tries to get the confidence to tell the reader how he feels, but she takes the opportunity to get lost in the Tardis.
Giving oneself a pep-talk was much more difficult than it seemed, and unfortunately, the Doctor was learning it first hand.
For the thousandth time that evening, he banged his head against the library wall. “You can do this,” he muttered to himself. “Its just Y/N.”
Actually, that was the exact problem. Every time he even thought about her lately, he couldn’t help but feel… Funny. It was only recently he faced the facts and figured out what exactly that funny feeling was.
Head over heels in love. He tried not to let it happen, but here he was now, banging his head against a wall while she was in her room, probably texting some human boy that was much more handsome than himself with cooler bowties.
And damn, he really was in trouble now, wasn’t he?
“You’re a Time Lord, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He kept on muttering to himself, hoping to calm himself down. It wasn’t working.
“You’re going to do this,” he said, trying to raise his hopes. “You are the last Time Lord of Galifrey, and you are going to tell that girl how you feel.”
He stood back from the wall and took a deep breath, leaving the library. He could feel his confidence wavering as he got to her door and knocked. And when she didn’t answer, it came close to crumbling. He shook off the doubt and cleared his throat.
“Y/N? Are you in there? I need to… Talk to you.”
I sound like an idiot, don’t I?He thought.
When he got no reply, he said louder: “Y/N?”
He furrowed his brow before heading off to the console room She must be there instead.
But she wasn’t. She wasn’t in there, and the confidence he was had fell into a panicy mess. Quickly, he began a scan of the ship, looking for life forms. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw what was surely her appear on the map.
Why in the world was she so deep in the Tardis? he thought. She was so far back, how did she even get there?
Whatever the reason, the Doctor knew he had to go after her.
So, he weaved in and out of the Tardis halls, making left turns then right turns and lefts again and rights again… When he felt he was drawing close to where she was, he began to call out her name.
“Y/N!” he shouted, over and over. It wasn’t long until his cries became more panicky when he was answered with silence.
He gave another desperate yell, louder than any pervious. This time, he received a small reply:
He breathed a sigh of relief, straining to hear her. He ran in the direction he thought it was from.
He rounded the corner, and grinned. Y/N was standing there with wide eyes, and he ran forward to pull her in his arms. He held her tightly and felt her smile.
Pulling back, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her face. “What happened?”
She looked at him sheepishly. “I got lost.”
“Well, you had me worried sick,” he said. “A on top of that, you have absolutely the worst timing ever.”
She furrowed her brow in what the Doctor would consider a very cute way. “What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath. “I mean it took me all day to build up the courage to do this.”
He pressed his lips to hers, and after the initial surprise, she melted into it before breaking away to breathe. The pair grinned at each other, faces red as the Doctor fidgeted a bit.
“Well,” Y/N said, smiling ear from ear. “If you still have the courage, I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”
The people in the Sanctuary hung their heads as they made it to the common room, some were shaking, others biting back tears. Wren flipped her long black hair behind her shoulders and held her head high, practically a skip in her step. The smile kept wanting to come forward, but she tried to bite it back.
So I had the best, due know that I use best sarcastically, idea by sending my good friend @tvtrashnoodle a otp fanfiction prompt and we had to pick each other a prompt. And as you guys may know I love fluffy, cute fanfictions. Well, today were having angst and fluff, haha kill me. So here we go, blame Momo.
How would ut/uf sans and sf pap react to walking in on their s/o breaking down because they where scared it was going to go back.(thier name for resets) This is the longest that it's been since a reset and they only blubber about it to them that they can't loose their skelly, and the swear they aren't crazy. They don't know why it happens but they remember.
I feel like this could be a double edged sword. On one hand, you get to keep meeting your skelly-belly. On the other, they won’t remember you and there’s a chance they won’t like you again.
Classic (Ut Sans)
He had just come home from one of his odd jobs, and he really just wanted to cuddle with you and relax. But when he came in to find you in tears on the floor, blubbering about losing him, he quickly hurried to reassure you that he isn’t going anywhere and urges you to tell him what’s wrong. When you tell him about the resets, he feels so guilty. He had no idea you remembered them, and to hear you freaking out because you thought he was going to think you were loony made it so much worse. He promises that he isn’t going anywhere again, and then offers to actually sit down and explain what the resets are.
Red (Uf Sans)
He was out at Grillby’s with Undyne. The two were laughing and joking around when he got the sudden, overpowering urge to have you in his arms. He barely gave the fish woman any warning before shortcutting home, only to find you in the middle of a breakdown. His anxiety hopped on the cow and yee-haw’d it’s way right over the moon as he hit the floor beside you, scooping you up against his chest and rocking you. He cooed to you in his raspy whisper that everything was fine, why did you think you were going to lose him, what happened, etc. Then you set off on a tangent about the resets and his soul strained with both relief that you weren’t hurt and sadness that you had to experience that. With mumbled apologies, he carried you to bed so he could hold and cuddle you until you calmed down. He would explain everything when he was sure you were alright.
Mutt (Sf Papyrus)
Mutt had fallen asleep on the couch at Undyne and Alphys’ and didn’t get home until way late, so when he came home to find you in the middle of a panic attack he wigged out. He felt guilty for leaving you alone to deal with it by yourself for who knows how long, and the guilt only increased when you started whimpering about losing him. He sat with you, zipping you into his hoodie with him and shushing and calming you. When you keen over the resets and try to convince him you’re not crazy, he only shushed you and promised he thought nothing of the sort, and that you needed to get some sleep. He assured you that he would still be there in the morning. He would explain then.
Hnggg. My anxious guilty babs. This has been in my inbox for a good minute and I’m sorry it’s still taking me so long to post them. I promise I have them written it just takes me a minute to get them typed and posted.
With sharp red eyes remaining fixed, a young soul felt both strain and relief as he gazed at the fine silhouette slowly approaching him, lust and loath both building within him. Though even with the hesitation within his system, it truly was a beautiful silhouette he had laid his eye upon; the outline of someone so stunning and gorgeous that any living soul could rest soundly once acquainted with her. It was the blessed outline of someone who Tobirama had met long ago, yet now was trying to avoid ever since the moment he heard of their presence due to the prior knowledge of her ways, though it was to no avail. Slightly tightening his grip on the half burned cigarette, the businessman scoffed to himself, shaming himself and the girl, already well aware of how the night was going to end. He knew that he stood no chance against the fallen angel; a woman with heavenly beauty, but hellish desires, though he couldn’t deny that he didn’t wish the same as she.
Taking another drag at the sin, Tobirama did his best to resist the other sin coming into the room, hoping to enjoy his last few moments of sanity, though there wasn’t much hope for him now. You hadn’t even laid eyes upon him, but he already felt those piercing orbs pulling him under, dragging him down to hell. He felt that look you’d always give him, bypassing the strong and noble front he always put and looking into the soul of a starving god, needing something more than the petty wonders of the material world. He hadn’t even seen your actual being yet, but he was already being transported back to the last time you two had met. The Senju could feel the hot breath against his body, the delicate hands running circles against his skin, the devilish smirk upon red lips gliding against sensitive skin. Fuck. He hated what you did to him, but you were the only one who was able to take him to such a level, and that was something he refused to lose.
When the reality came to play, Tobirama couldn’t say that he didn’t feel anything for you. If that had been said, then the greatest lie of his life would have been created, yet he didn’t love you. No, not one bit. Deep down, there was something about you that pulled him in, something that no other being seemed to possess, but it wasn’t love that he felt for you, for that was something the he would never accept in his lifetime.
Hell, he was Tobirama Senju: he didn’t need anyone; he didn’t desire anyone. He was too stubborn and too strict to care enough about petty things such as love and trophy wives. That’s what set him apart from all the other business lords and such; it’s what made him strong. They wanted a beautiful doll to call their own and have to toy with whenever they pleased. They wanted to run the world, but have a pretty face to fall back upon when they got tired. Every single one of them wanted to have both, yet those petty lovers who did nothing were something that Tobirama had no desire for. He wanted to run the world alone, not with someone by his side, that was something that he had made clear years ago before he was ever even introduced to you.
And you certainly were not one who wished to rule the world with him, if anything you wanted to take the world away from him and make it your own, but then again maybe that’s what made you so damn desirable to the Senju. To him, you were the embodiment of evil, cunning and beautiful, able to lure any damned soul into your welcoming arms, completely prepared to give them all of their desires and dreams while simultaneously making them hate themselves. You were everything he hated, but also everything the he prided himself in being, an ideal so ironic that it pained him. You were Tobirama’s devil, yet he was never meant to be yours.
Meet the GamChek red-headed stepchild, also known as the MacGyvered GamChek Jr, because why pay 60 when you can build one for 10.
What you need:
1 male stage pin connector
1 electric receptacle tester ($4 at harbor freight)
3 Ring style electrical terminals (or another means of connecting to stage pins) 1 drill with bit to match diameter of lamps
Soldering iron, solder, solder sucker, and tip cleaner
Needle nose pliers
Phillips and/or flathead screwdriver
Swanky keychain from college of choice
How to build
1. Open the tester, I find it easiest to take needle nose pliers or screwdriver and place it between the ground pin and blades to pop it open.
2. remove the inner assembly which should have 3 resistors, 3 lamps, and 2 rubber insulating jackets, and the plug blades, and then pull off the little paper diagnostic key from the top. Dispose of the body
3. Using the soldering iron (or pliers and force) remove the blades from the inner assembly and discard them.
4. Trim back the leads from the inner assembly so the lamps will sit a little less than 1/3 the way from the strain relief.
Step 5 applies to screw down style stage pin connectors (seen below), you may need to use other methods for different styles of stage pin
5. Solder the leads to the ring style terminal keeping the same grouping and layout as before.
6. Attach the terminals the stage pin connector. Following the same wiring layout as the original tester, lay out the lamps and bend at 90 degrees
7. Drill 3 holes in the stage pin cover for each led, equally spaced, and an additional hole for the lanyard/tie line
(A/N: To the lovely person that requested an injured Newt with a fear of needles! I hope you like it. ^-^)
A gust of crisp late autumn air wafted in when you stepped
inside the door of your modest home, nestled in your fluffiest scarf. Emerging
from your fleecy layers, your eyes fell on a suspicious red blotch on the
usually spotless linoleum floor of your entry hall. Bending over to examine it
(but careful not to get too near it lest it be some sort of dangerous substance
that Newt’s creatures often left behind), your eyes narrowed. Could it be
blood? And if so, was it even human? The worst possibility of all, was it Newt’s
blood? As numerous scenarios that could have caused the miniscule puddle to be
where it was now played out in your mind, you heard what sounded like a faint
groan from deep in your house.
Making your way towards the sound, making a mental note to
clean up the spill later, you made sure that your footsteps were as quiet as
possible. You didn’t have a particular reason that you were aware of, but you
supposed it was better to be safe than sorry. Pausing outside out of one the
closed oaken doors that lined your hallway, you heard the sound again. Furrowing
your brows and placing your ear closer to the door so you could hear better, your
mind was racing. That definitely sounded like Newt…
Backing away to a normal distance away from the door so it
wasn’t obvious that you had been eavesdropping, you lifted your hand and rapped
your knuckles against the solid paneling. “Are you alright?” You called out,
hoping that it really was Newt in there. Of course, who else would it be? But
still, you reminded yourself, surprises were never far between in this house.
“Yes love?” His voice (it was Newt after all, you noted in
relief) sounded strained.
“Are you alright? Can I come in?” Your hand hovered over the
cold metal of the knob.
“Ah, I’m fine… Be out in just a second…” His voice seemed to
be fading away, you guessed he was trying to hide in his case. Something more
unusual than normal was going on.
“I’m coming in, Newt Scamander.” You called firmly, pushing
the door open. You gasped at the sight that greeted you, sending your hands
fluttering up to your mouth. “Newt!” You practically squeaked, looking at his
mangled arm. “What happened?!” You were already breaking out of your trance,
running for the first aid kit that you kept handy.
“It wasn’t his fault honestly – just got a bit over-excited
that’s all. No, no, I’m fine.” He tried to push away the kit with his good hand
when you returned, even though his face was a pasty shade of white. Pursing
your lips, you noted his sweaty forehead and shaking limbs.
“You are certainly not
fine.” You plopped down on the bed next to him, taking care not to jostle his
bloody arm. “Come on now, let’s get this cleaned up…” You soothed him, seeing
his face drawn tight in obvious pain.
Throwing the last bloody cloth on top of a now towering
stack, you gazed at the gash before you. It wasn’t a pretty sight, the cut deep
and raw. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to stitch this one up, dear…” You handed
Newt the stress ball that you kept handy in your pants pocket. “Squeeze this
with your good hand, it’ll distract you.”
Newt trembled again, but you attributed it to the pain in
his arm. Taking the shining silver needle out of its case and threading it with
the thick plasticky black thread, you saw his eyes blow wide with panic. “Are
you ready?” You asked gently, hovering the sharp tip over his arm.
“N-no.” His eyes were fixed on the needle, and you saw a
sheen of tears beginning to cover his eyes.
“Oh…” The realization dawned on you. “Are you scared of
Newt nodded, and you rapidly replaced the needle back in
your kit. “I’m going to have to take you to the hospital then.”
“I know.” His voice was pained, breathing ragged.
Wrapping an arm around his shaky form, you helped him to his
feet. “Come on then… You’ll be okay.” You kept your voice soft, like Newt had
shown you to do when you were comforting wounded creatures. Supporting his
lanky form, you slowly made it out to your car and helped him in.
The whole drive to the hospital your hand was on his knee,
rubbing it soothingly, and apologizing when the car hit rough parts of the
road, jolting Newt’s injured arm and forcing a pained whimper past his lips.
While the doctor sedated him and stitched up his arm you
held his good hand the whole time, holding him and smoothing your hands through
his hair when he woke.
That evening back at home, Newt’s arm wrapped tightly in
pristine white bandages, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you
for taking care of me.” He murmured, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he
held your hand, and suddenly everything was worth it.
There’s a rather concerning thumping coming from downstairs. It starts in short, rapid bursts then goes quiet for a while before resuming. Dean furrows his brow and scoops his daughter off the carpet.
“Alright, Mays, let’s see what papa came up with this time,” he says, placing the girl on his hip.
“It’s loud,” she notices, cocking her head to the side, but doesn’t cover her ears, even though the sound only hammers harder and longer as they stroll down the stairs.
As soon as they’re off the last step, he sets her down and she runs towards the kitchen to discover the origin of the noise.
“Please, not the kitchen,” Dean mutters to himself as he follows, really hoping he won’t find the place in ruin.
The kitchen is fine, luckily. That’s if he doesn’t count the table in the middle of it, the half of which is covered with shopping bags, the other half, well…
“The hell is this, Cas?”
He points to the sturdy machine standing before the man. It’s not very big, and supposedly white, or at least used to be at some point. It’s really hard to tell with the amount of dust still covering it despite Cas’s visible attempts at smearing it off with his palms.
“Language, Dean,” Cas chastises him semi-automatically, not taking his eyes off the knobs and switches.
Dean takes a breath.
“The frick-frack is this, Cas?” he corrects and gets a brief look from Maya, who’s already kneeling on the chair next to Cas, inspecting the new thing with excitement.
“It’s a sewing machine,” Cas replies simply, as if Dean is an idiot.
“I know it’s a sewing machine!” Dean says, waving his palm in annoyance. “I’m asking where it’s from and what it’s doing here.”
Cas swipes stray locks of hair off his forehead, leaves a dark smudge of dust on his forehead. He leans back and finally looks up at Dean still stood in the doorway.
“I found it in the attic some time ago, the previous locators must have left it with the rest of their things. I’m trying to figure out if it’s working as it should.”
“By the ruckus it’s making I’d say it’s working,” Dean supplies. “Are you gonna clean it or should I call CDC?”
“Uh, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Cas mutters, staring at his filthy palms like he’s only just noticed all the dirt he brought from the attic and straight into the kitchen, of all places. “And yes,” he adds with a smile. “The main mechanism seems to be fine.”
He’s about to stand up when Maya stops him with her palm at his elbow.
“Do the thing!” she pleads, pointing to the sewing machine.
She puts her palms over her ears this time, but her face is bright and all of her tiny teeth gleam in a wide grin. Cas nods and presses the black pedal sitting next to the machine. There comes the hammering again, followed by Maya’s giggle.
“There’ll be a lot more of it before papa finishes,” Cas promises (or threatens, as far as Dean’s concerned), pushing his chair away. “Don’t touch it, sweety.”
Maya obeys and stays full three inches away from the machine, but judging by the twitching of her fingers, her hand moving towards it, just to be pulled back and ending up in fair locks of hair at the back of her head, she can barely keep herself from dabbing at the dust. Dean walks over to the table, takes a peek into the bags. There are wads of fabric, yellow and black, some fake fur, copper wire, and sewing accessories.
“What is it exactly that papa is trying to do?” he asks, skeptically. “Watched too many Project Runway reruns or what?”
“No, I am going to sew a Halloween costume for Maya,” Cas announces proudly, wiping his hands off with a paper towel.
Maya bounces in her chair.
“So we’re actually doing this Halloween thing?” Dean makes sure. The topic somehow never came up in their household. They did have candy prepared for the kids last year, but other than that, they just chilled and watched whatever horror movie there was on tv. “Isn’t it, I don’t know, too pagan for an ex-angel?”
“It’s a human tradition. Many Christian traditions originate from paganism.” After a pause, he adds, “I already invited Charlie and Sam with the family.”
“Good to know,” Dean acknowledged. “But you do realize we could just buy her a costume, right?”
“The costumes for children sold in stores are hardly anatomically correct,” Cas answers with a totally straight face.
Where the events of the Bitter Epilogue was just a nightmare - Where they wake from a nightmare where MC dies - ———
Soryu: He felt a weight on his chest, shaking him, hands tight on his shoulders. He yelled something in his sleep, seizing his attacker and whirling them down on the bed, barring his forearm across their throat. Soryu’s dark eyes burned down at the surprised face of his girlfriend, and he immediately froze. “____________!” She was alive. A rush of relief and pure bliss rushed through him, chasing away the cold pain of losing her in a dream. She cracked him a slightly awkward smile, her little hands batting aside his choking hold. “Oh, Soryu, you had a nightmare, didn’t you?” A slim arm reached up, fingers tugging her sleeve to dab at his forehead, where a sheen of cold sweat had formed. He ignored her and started patting her down, hands touching her all over in a hurried desperation to check if she was alright. She squirmed shyly, in confusion, under him as his touch moved over her form. “Errr… Soryu?” She was alive. The ringing of gunshots in his mind faded away, and Soryu said nothing, wrapping strong arms around her frame, clutching her to his chest. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder, and he breathed in the soft, warm scent of her skin. She stroked his back understandingly. “It’s just a dream.” She murmured. “Shhhh.” His arms tightened, and Soryu bathed in the beautiful simplicity of the moment. It had been difficult to relax since she revealed herself as an assassin to him. It had been her betrayal of her organization that saved his life, yet it had been that very act that threw her in the path of danger. Soryu clutched her closer, harder, needing her presence against him. She stayed silent, pressing close, letting his body sooth her. It would be alright. It would all be alright, as long as they stayed together. She trusted him with every ounce of faith, every fibre of her being. He would protect her. Soryu gathered her, blankets and all, into his embrace and felt his racing heart relax. It was all just a dream. She was alive. All was good.
Mamoru: “Sweetheart!” He sat up abruptly from the couch where he had dozed off, eyes wide and darting around. He was in his living room, not the penthouse. The television was sizzling with static, a haunting symbol from his dream. “Sweetheart! Where ya at?!” He yelled into the apartment, scrambling to his feet and looking around. “Mamo?” Her head peeked out at him from the bathroom, her hair wet and spilling over her face. A hand brushed the wet locks behind her ear. Fear twisted around his heart, making his lungs constrict painfully as all air slipped from his body. Wet hair. Vivid sounds of splashing water tortured his ears, faint images of her drowning blurred before his eyes. Mamoru hurried over to her, forcing the door open and grabbing her, crushing her against his chest. “Mamo!” She struggled against him in confusion, wrapped in just a towel, fresh from the shower. Nothing else mattered in the world now but just holding her against him, his face pressed against her neck, drinking in the fresh whiff of shampoo that spelled out peace and security. “Hell, don’t scare me like that, sweetheart.” He grumbled, stroking her back, his hands glossing over the soft white towel and her bare skin. There was really nothing he could notice, not even those aspects that normally turned him on. Mamoru held her close, soothing his heart with just the knowledge that she was here with him, safe, unharmed. “What happened?” She asked quietly, drawing back slightly and smiling up at him with that innocent, sweet little curve of the lips. “N-nothing.” He huffed. “That’s not for a kid to know.” He ruffled her hair as casually as he could, still feeling lingering tremors in his hand from the nightmare. She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip that delectable fraction, and Mamoru’s just-slowing heartbeat did a double take. “Go on, hurry up. Get dressed.” He nudged her into the bathroom and shut the door for her, leaning against it with a long sigh as he did. Mamoru took a deep breath and went over to the window, taking out a cigarette to puff on. Letting loose a swirl of smoke from between his teeth, he felt his nerves settle again. They were never going to live a normal life. Hie eyes glanced at the shut bathroom door. Ever since she allowed him to live, it was like death was hanging over her by a thread. He grew ever nervous for her safety, and with every passing day it felt like the fear of losing her was expanding exponentially. Soft footsteps sounded as she came up to him, in her blouse and skirt, cuddling against his side. Mamoru wrapped an arm around her and blew the smoke out the window, stubbing out his cigarette. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. For now, this was the best they got.
Ota: Bang. His eyes opened, teary, to find himself staring at the blank white of his studio ceiling. There was a lightning flash of a moment where he took in the realization, and Ota’s broken heart unclenched. Just a damn dream. He rolled himself over on the mattress violently, throwing his entire body around the woman that lay beside him. “Ota?” She mumbled sleepily as he brought his lips to her flawless skin, ghosting over the soft surface as his mind tossed and turned in his head. She wasn’t beaten. She wasn’t strangled. His mouth traveled to her throat, feeling endless relief as he found no belt wrapped there. He sucked hard, leaving a little bruise, and she gave a tiny mewl. Ota hugged himself to her, showering her with feverish kisses, losing himself in her voice as she responded quietly. “_________.” Her name was so sweet and beautiful to say. Ota gazed down at her. Hell, he was so addicted to her, so captivated, so in love. It had been just a dream, just a nightmare of losing her. But he would shoot himself again, in real life, anytime, for her to live. Ota kissed her again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, perfectly willing to accommodate him even in the early morning. “You’re so sweaty.” She noted, frowning at the cold droplets on his forehead, lingering sparkles of the pain and horror he had experienced in the depth of his unconscious. “That a problem?” Ota smirked, stopping up her reply with a kiss, hiding his fright from her as best as he could. She didn’t need any more of that stress. She had let him live, she loved him, and it was his every responsibility to shield her from other dangers. Especially the darkness of his own unnecessary dreams. “N-no.” She blushed, evident even in the dimness of the studio. Ota fluttered kisses over her forehead, down to the tip of her nose and across her cheekbones, smooth like tears down her cheeks and rough against her jaw. “I love you, ________.” She was silent for a moment, blushing pleasantly in pure bliss. The lack of her immediate reply brought a little twinge of worry to his mind, and Ota lay down beside her, squeezing her against him so her back pressed flush to his front. “Do you not love your Master, Koro?” “Of course I do!” She blurted quickly, and he put his chin on her shoulder, heaving an enunciated sigh. “I love you, Ota.” She squirmed around and turned to face him. “I love you. I’m never going anywhere.” He smiled, a vulnerable gesture he showed no one but her, a plain and happy arch of the lips that held no bewitching angelic grace or devilish smirk. “If you go anywhere, Koro, your Master will chase after you.” He kissed her. Something from that dream tugged at the bottom of his heart, and Ota put his forehead to hers. “I never want to let you go.”
Eisuke: He jolted upright from his desk, mind whirling with fear, not even caring about the immense ache in his back and shoulders. He had fallen asleep working again. “_________.” He called out loudly. There wasn’t a reply, and the remnants of the haunting dream made him cry out again, with increased urgency and terror. “___________!” There was a slow shuffling and the bedroom door opened. You stood there, in his dress shirt and a pair of your pyjama shorts, ruffling your hair and yawning. “Are you okay, Eisuke?” He ran. He raced to your side, seizing you by the shoulders, eyes scanning you up and down. Never had he ever loved your lazy, sleepy, plain and normal face so much. Eisuke crushed his lips against yours, and you stiffen in surprise momentarily before melting into his kiss, wrapping your arms around him. His mind relaxed, his heart soared at your touch, his own soul softening into a puddle at your love. “You’re safe.” He muttered, voice filled with strained relief. “Hmm?” You looked up at him in confusion. “Did you have a nightmare?” “Of course not.” He snapped as he silenced you with another rough kiss. “Eisuke…” You stroked his ruffled hair softly, seeing the dark rings under his eyes. He had been under a great amount of stress after it was known that you were sent to kill him. Your sparing of his life meant that both of you now were in danger, yet Eisuke was so determined to upkeep the idea that everything was fine that he refused to hide away. “I love you.” You murmur gently to his ear, feeling his arms tighten around you. “Make me coffee.” He ordered as he let go slowly, shakily, his eyes wide and tired and haunted. “How about some tea?” You asked. “It would sooth you better.” You took his hand and led him to the couch, sitting him down. You went to the kitchen and returned quickly with a mug of warm tea. Eisuke still sat stiffly at the edge of the cushions, staring at nothing in particular. You sat beside him and pressed the mug into his large hands. He looked at you, clutched the mug with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around your shoulders. “Eisuke…” “Stay like this with me.” “E-“ “Stop. Shh.” He kissed your forehead, and said no more. His hand stroked your shoulder slowly, his eyes shutting to the rhythmic pattern. You were here. You were alive. He didn’t know how long this peace would last. But for now, it was all just a nightmare.
Baba: He could almost taste the blood on his lips, feel the stickiness of your bleeding body seep through the television in his mind onto his hands. “________. __________. __________!” His hands grabbed for you with his eyes still shut, fumbling over the bedsheets. You propped yourself up and reached out to him. Slipping your hand into his, you give it a squeeze. Baba’s eyes fly open. “_________!” He looks at you, a wild, frightened glint in the depth of the irises. “Nightmare?” You ask gently, a smile hanging on your lips as he reached up and embraced you, cuddling you tightly to his chest. “Sorry for waking you, my princess.” He forced out a smile as his racing heartbeat slowed to a regular pace. It wasn’t real. You were here, in his arms, snug and warm against his body.” You clung to him. “Baba…” “Yes, milady?” “Are you scared that I’m going to hear from the organization?” Your voice was shaking. “I’m not going to kill you, Baba…” “I know, my love.” He kissed your hand gently. “That’s not what I’m scared of.” His hand moved from your shoulder to your chin, tipping it up for a kiss. “I’m scared of losing you, my sweet.” “Baba…” Your emotions tangle in your heart, words hiding from your tongue as you curl closer to him, breathing in his comforting scent. Baba held you close, not daring to let go even the tiniest fraction. “You must be tired.” He said gently, stroking your hair. “Go back to sleep.” “Don’t let go of me.” You whispered in reply. “I would never.” You closed your eyes slowly, the long lashes pressing against lashes. Baba kissed your forehead lightly in soft raindrop-like patters. The position felt safe and secure. Baba sighed as he looked at you. It was because of him it was like this. It was because you couldn’t kill him, that both of you had your lives hanging on a thread. It was his fault. But you never blamed him, you never gave him anything but the purest, strongest love. You were so perfect. Baba pressed his lips to your cheek and kept them there, a slight pressure on the smooth skin. He needed no other woman. He couldn’t imagine if you were gone, left, killed… He could have no other woman.
A dear friend of mine was married yesterday and with all the wedding to-do, I felt inspired to write a cute Sherlolly drabble. Enjoy!
How had he
gotten himself into this?
He was going
to sound like an idiot.
would either laugh at him or not
laugh at all. They’d just stare at
Did he even
have his cards?
In a rush of
panic, John brushed a hand over his jacket, breathing a strained sigh of relief
when he felt the lump in the inner pocket. His brow was sweaty and his hands
trembled violently with nerves as it was, forgetting his notes would just be
Sherlock snickered and leaned close to whisper over the clattering of glass and
murmurs. ‘You are perfectly capable of speaking in public. If I can pull off an acceptable speech while solving a murder, you will do just
his eyes. ‘This new, nice-Sherlock is rather unsettling.’
used to it, Doctor Watson. Because he’s here to stay,’ Sherlock smirked,
turning his attention to the person on his other side.
could respond, a tinkling of glass accompanied a loud voice calling for
attention. ‘Pray silence for the best man!’
the room quieted and turned to the head table.
his feet, John swallowed nervously and pulled the cards from his pocket. He
cleared his throat and forced a smile as he glanced up at the audience. ‘For
those of you who don’t know, I’m John Watson, best friend and keeper of the
groom. The latter being a role I happily relinquish today to someone far more
capable of keeping him.’
tittered and he relaxed slightly, pulling out the telegrams of those who were
unable to come. ‘First, the telegrams.’
It’s not unusual for Dan or Phil to wander into each other’s rooms unannounced. In fact, they do it all the time, and it’s never been a problem before. In fact, as luck would have it, they’d both even been lucky enough to avoid walking in on each other masturbating - up untill now.