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Life’s Lessons

Because the Hell’s Studio death drabbles weren’t sad enough without adding my own take on the idea of the toons (Ben specifically) being rudely confronted with human mortality.

Hell’s Studio AU was made by @doodledrawsthings​ buckle up and enjoy my attempt at writing Emotions.

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gabriel4sam  asked:

Reading #sensitiveskin again and I love it! Could we have another part for it, please? Is it difficult for Obi-Wan to go back to no touch after that? Does he think of Jango? Does he take the first mission where he has a chance to meet him again?

Yearning something he shouldn’t was a horrible feeling Obi-Wan realized, the gnawing hunger in his skin that wanted Jango’s warm hands back on him that made him watch the clones hands before firmly twapping himself mentally and reminding himself that while they were clones of Jango, they were not the bounty hunter himself and therefor what he was really craving was not them.

And there was no way he’d abuse any of them like that even as he burned and yearned.

And from the way Anakin would sometimes look at him with something akin between shock and amusement, it was clear that Obi-Wan wasn’t shielding his thoughts too well when he was out of the temple.

That’s why the bottomless hunger in his skin seemed to unleash itself with enough strength to make him stagger when he caught a glimpse of the Mando’a from a distance during a campaign where they were overtaking a Separatist base.

Just for a moment.

The light flickering over silver and blue armor but unmistakable to Obi-Wan.

It made him stumble, it distracted him and Force the raw need was something Obi-Wan wasn’t used to.

So perhaps that’s why he’d jumped into the mans arms instead of calling for the guards when he’d found Jango in his tent.

Kissing that laughing mouth sated some of his hunger as he eagerly and clumsily tried to work the other lose.

“Easy Jetii, easy.” The hunter finally pushed him away, smile wry and amused. “Someone would think you missed me.” He teased even as he undid his greaves and then his chest plate to set it down on a table.

“A little?” Obi-Wan blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. At Jango’s raised eyebrow he flushed harder. “Alright a lot. I don’t know why but your touch it… I seem to…”

Jango softened and pulled off his gloves before reaching out, bare skin touching his face, thumbs and fingertips stroking lightly and it felt lovely.

The warmth of the others skin and Obi-Wan burrowed closer, eyes closed as he let out a quiet noise of pleasure.

He never noticed the tent flap being pulled back, never noticed Jango shot a glare coupled with a lip snarl over his shoulder at Cody and never noticed the flap quickly being closed.

All Obi-Wan could feel was those gentle and now familiar hands brushing his cheeks and face before moving down his neck to press under his tunics to stroke his collarbone and neck. The barest of pressure before they retreated and caused him to whimper.

“Shh.” Jango rumbled, carefully undoing Obi-Wan’s belt and obi to slide his tunics apart, to get to the flesh beneath all the layers of cloth as he backed Obi-Wan towards the bed. “I have you jetii.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the column of the others throat. “My sensitive kih senaar.” He added as he lowered Obi-Wan to the bed and followed him down.

“Not small or a bird.” Obi-Wan grunted, pushing the sheets off the bed before sighing happily at the press of a warm body against his.

Jango just smirked and ran his hands over the others chest and side, tweaking pert nipples into hard buds.

He could get this Jedi to agree, eventually.

There wived a cwewtwain mwan in wusshia long agwo

He was bwig and stwong uwu , in his eywes a fwaming gwow

Mowst pweople wooked at him with tewwow and with fwear

But to Moscow chwicks he was wuch a wuvely dwear

He could pweach teh bible wike a pweachwer

Fuww ov ecwastwy and fiwe

Bwut he alswo was teh kwind ov tweachwrt

women wukd dwesiwe

Ra ra raspwutin

wuver of teh wussian qween

Twere was a cwat thwat weawwy was gwone

ra ra rasputin russia’s smollest uwu bean

It was a shwame how he cawwied on

He wuled teh wussian wand and nevwer mwind teh czar

But teh cassock he dwansed weawwy wunderbar

In all affwaurs of stwate he was teh man to pwease

Bwut he was weal gweat when he had a gwiwl to sqweeze

For teh qween he was no wheeler dwealeh

Thwough she’d heawd teh thwings he’d done

She bewieved he was a hwowy hweawer

Who would heels hew swon

Ra ra raspwutin

wuver of teh wussian qween

Twere was a cat thwat weawwy was gwone

ra ra rasputin russia’s smollest uwu bean

It was a shwame how he cawwied on

Bwut when his dwinking and wusting and his hunger

For pwower becwame knwown two morwe and morwe pweople

The demwands to do swumthing abwout thwis outwageous

Mwan becwame wouder and wouder

Thwis mwans jwust gwot to gwo! decwared his enemwies

Bwut teh wadies bwegged, dwont u twy to dwo it, uwu, pwease

No dwoubt this raspwutin had wots of hiddwen chwarms

Thwough he was a bwute thwey just fwell into his awms uwu

Thwen wun night swum men o hwighwer stwanding

Swet a twap, they’re nwot to bwame

Cwome to wisit us they kwept dwemandhing

And he weally cwame

Ra ra raspwutin

wuver of teh wussian qween

Ra ra raswutin

They pwut sum pwoison intwo his wine

Ra ra raspwutin

Wussias gweatwest wuvwachine

He dwank it all and said, I fweel fwine uwu

Ra ra raspwutin

wuver of teh wushian qween

Thwey didn’t qwuit, thwey wanted his hwead! oh no uwu

Ra ra raspwutin

Wushias gweatwest wuv machwine

And swo thwey huggwed him ‘til he was dwead

uwu, those wushians

The Real Children

Unbetaed.  At this point I just want to get it up and posted.

Mycroft gets an emergency phone call from John and cause leads to affect and affect leads to knowledge.


Mycroft’s mobile rung at two-thirty in the morning, just as he closed his laptop.  He looked down at it, sitting its precise distance from the edge of his laptop, just before his work mobile.  It didn’t alarm him to receive a call so early in the morning, he often received calls at all hours.  The empty space above the answer icon did alarm him however, he only saw that non-number in relation to a single person.


“Dr. Watson?”  Tucking the phone between shoulder and ear, he picked up his work mobile to text the necessary parties.

“I need immediate medical assistance.”  The tight authoritative command in his voice only served to alarm Mycroft further.  Muffled by the press between John’s shoulder and chin, he could still hear ragged, rapid action in the background.  The puff of breathing of someone man handing someone else.  A rip, a tear, a jagged chasm of a gasp, the wrong tone for John’s voice.  “Cooper Heights flats.  We’re on the roof.”

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Creepypasta #1002: A Fork In The Road

Length: Long

This was an experience I had while driving to Disneyland with my family. We lived in Idaho so it was quite a drive to get there. If you’ve ever driven that route, you know there’s a lot of empty space between towns. If you’re driving at the right time of day or night, there’s almost no cars around. You can set your cruise control at about 90 MPH and not worry about other people for a few miles

In the car, we had my mom and dad, me, and my younger brother and sister. I was 16 at the time.

We were driving through a canyon just as it was getting dark. We’d already been driving for quite a while, and my dad, who was driving, insisted we would push through and not get a hotel. I was staring up at the massive stacks of rock and dirt that made mountains when there was a loud ‘TWAP’ followed by a repeated thudding. I was thrown forward as dad slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road.

My dad growled a curse, and my mom shot him a look.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Flat tire, are you kidding?”

He tossed his door open and got out, shutting it behind him. I watched him walk around the car, yanking my earbuds out. Josh and Nikki, my siblings, watched him too.

He said something we couldn’t hear before visibly sighing and opening the trunk of our little Impala. He started to pull out our bags and set them on the side of the road. Pausing, he came to my door and opened it.

“Keith, can you come help me with this?” Dad resigned. I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out. The air had that chilling nibble, as it was early September. That used to be my favorite feeling, but now I hate it.

We hauled stuff out of the trunk to the side of the road until we could lift the spare tire out of the bottom of the trunk. The tire was set next to the passenger-rear tire, and dad grabbed the jack from the trunk.

Dad had everyone get out and stand in the gravel while he lifted the car with the jack. I think I remember someone made a fat joke.

Dad unscrewed the nuts on the shredded tire while we wandered a little. The road was elevated slightly above the surrounding terrain. The gravel descended a few feet and gave way to grass and weeds. I walked towards a cool-looking tree that looked like a face in the dimming twilight. Of course, the closer I got, the more the face disappeared.

When I got to the tree, I looked around. Mountains created barriers all around us. It was a miracle that water or men or whatever it was had carved through the mountain ranges so we could go through them rather than around.

I was an introspective kid, as you can tell.

A sudden crack made me jump. I spun around, facing the slope behind me that led to the impassable peaks. I couldn’t see anything in the dim light, but I heard another crack. Then another. A rock the size of my head bounced past just a few yards to my left.

I released the breath I’d been holding. Just a rock.

The scare made me want to head back. As I walked back towards the car, I saw the rock roll slowly up to the gravel incline before stuttering to a stop. My mom, who was still by the car, looked back when she heard it.

“Honey, be careful rolling rocks down the mountain. You might accidentally hit a car,” she said patiently.

“It wasn’t me,” I said. “It flew past me on its way down.”

She accepted my answer and turned to keep watching my dad. He had just finished unscrewing the last nut.

He lifted the flat tire off the axle and set it in the gravel next to the spare. Then, he rolled the spare over to mount it on the car.

I walked over to the tire. It wasn’t just flat. It was absolutely shredded. I leaned over and held the black rubber up. There were three slashes straight through the entire tire that ran around almost the entire circumference. What would cause that? We had to have hit something.

I started to walk up the road and was instantly joined by my two siblings, who had previously been occupied in the grassy area.

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Lady Grantham’s Gift

Okay, so I may have taken a few liberties with characterization here with Elsie and Charles, but I don’t think that it’s too far outside of what they’re like - and may be like as happily married people.  This is in response to my head seizing on the lovely Phyllis Logan saying that someone should get the couple a Kama Sutra for a wedding gift and the fact that in my head canon Cora has lots of books for such instruction (that she keeps as far away from Robert as possible if only because he becomes too eager and excited and ends up hurting himself or her if he has more than one new thing he could learn at a time).

If it’s not up your alley in terms of characterization, you can call it a crack!fic if you like.  I just hope you enjoy!  It was meant to be a bit of fun!

Possibly some spoilers for Series 6, episode 3.

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