It was your favorite spot for many reasons--after all, who wouldn't want to be snuggled up beside the world's cutest angel? You loved having your head pressed to his chest so you could hear his heartbeat, you loved feeling his arms wrapped protectively around you as you both breathed a sigh of relief for another hunt gone safely, and you loved just knowing he was all yours for a little while.
One of Castiel's hands moved from holding you in an embrace to your stomach, one of his fingers tracing nameless patterns over it.
"Cahahahas, stohohop," you giggled, far too much like a small child for your liking.
"Why?" Honest-to-goodness inquiry flooded those clear blue eyes of his. He
Mum is sitting at the kitchen table when I skip in. "Heya, Mumsliums!" I holler, giving her a frantic wave. She nods once and waves back as I cut through the tiled kitchen for the mud room to get my tennies from the shoe rack. She doesn't say much anymore, now that she's lost her lower jaw. I shrug and
Malasada. They just happen to be one of my favorite foods. Whether it was the sweetness, spiciness, or what flavor it contained within its' ingredients, I would love it either way. I guess when a person lives their entire life in Alola, they would grow fond of the treat...Although, I'm not too sure if that's a fact for every resident.
The first time that I had laid my hands on such a treat was my first trip to Hau'oli City. I was about 11 years old and well my father, (Father's name), who happened to be a professor, was called out for a special meeting out in the city. Knowing me, my father sent me out on my own adventure in the city with my special friend, (Favorite Pokémon). At this time of my life, I have never been to another City, despite that Iki Town, my hometown, was near.
A shopping district full of stores of different categories, a marine district, and a Beach. I knew that it was the biggest city of Alola but I also knew that all the different islands
With the mildest of expressions, Keiran merely blinked up at the enraged one and countered, unexpectedly cold, "Since when do morals matter here? At this place where we observe and judge humanity? We focus on facts, not feelings. You know that." He added, patronizing.
"Tch, I don't need you reminding me. And I know what I need to do, but there's no way I'm-" Garrick welcomed the coming verbal battle; thus, when his superior rose from his seat, he could feel his own temper rising as well.
Keiran then approached him face-to-face, smirking all the while he spoke. "Look, I love the way you think " A graceful hand took to Garrick's pounding neck, reached to his face, where it departed with a tender caress. "But talking back to your superior isn't a good idea when the
It's not like you would have settled for anything less, would you? Muffled coughs echo around the church- there always seems to be someone with a cough at these things, though I admit I haven't been to a lot of funerals.
Music starts. I exhale once, a sharp motion that pushes the air out of my lungs and vapour spills from between my lips instead, even though we’re indoors. The heels of my boots keep clicking loudly against the stone floor and the tag on the back of my dress itches. I've worn this dress to a funeral before- I wouldn't want you to think I'd go out and buy a new dress especially for you. After a lifetime (or my life up until now, anyway) of complaining about how I "could be so pretty if you tried!" and pursing your lips in clear disapproval of my tomboy proclivities, you should be grateful I wore a dress at all.
Grateful. That was always such a big theme for you, wasn't it? Or, more specifically, you never got the gratitude
Words: 500 or less
Alek lifted his head off of Nathaniel's chest and glanced around the room, surveying the damage. Papers were scattered everywhere- desk, floor, chair... His name plate in the waste paper basket, half buried now under more papers and a sock. Their clothes, the sock not included, were trailed in a messy line from the door to his desk.
"I hate you," Nathaniel muttered.
"I'd make note of that, but--" He pulled one of the yellow sticky notes off of Nathaniel's chest and then tossed it on the floor. "--I'm not sure where I put my pen. It'd be a very sticky, sticky note anyway."
Nathaniel's eyelashes fluttered for a moment and he blinked sleepily. "Then make a mental one along with another that says this isn't happening again."
Aleksandr couldn't help but laugh. He wasn't worried. Despite what Nathaniel said about hating him and it not happening again Alek would bet money they'd be at it again and soon. He also
“He’s confused and missing a wing,” she said, sitting behind the desk and folding her hands on the desktop. “Besides, he’s an angel, for Christ’s sake. There’s a better probability of being attacked by a rabid mailbox.”
He planted his hands palms down on the desk. “But where did he come from, why doesn’t he remember anything, how did he get a friggin’ wing torn off?” He jabbed the faux wood finish with an index finger. “You see? This is why I screen all of your patients.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and this is also why all my clients are animals or attractive females.”
“I’m doing this to protect you.”
She folded her arms over her scrubs. “Oh, so treating ugly women would be detri
Definition: to fool, as by false promises or wrong notions; mislead; deceive; trick
Words: 500 or less
Mark Smith was attractive, tall, well muscled, and young looking for a man his age. Not the slightest bit of gray showed in his hair despite the fact he was almost twice Alek's. He was also rich, far better off than Alek himself if he was looking to invest in the company. That said, the man was fucking deluded if he thought for two seconds that there was any chance in hell of Nathaniel sleeping with him. Aleksandr would pound him into the dirt before he'd let him get his hands on his assistant. He was half tempted to punch him just for looking at Nate. Prospective investor or not.
He took a deep breath, let it out again, and reminded himself that while it was obvious to him Nathaniel was likely completely unaware of the guy's interest. That thought alone did a lot to ease his anger at the man sitting next to him.
Nathaniel laid t
You found 1's secret stash of chocolate.
Me: AMERICA! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU THAT YOU NEED TO START EATING HEALTHIER?!
America: Sorry *blushing shyly*
Me: Oh, how can I be mad at you?! You're just too damn CUTE!!
2 confesses his love to you.
Me: What's wrong?
Prussia: *after hesitating for a second, he grabs me, hugs me, and kisses me* >////////////////
Underneath a heap of blankets, a small figure shifted, revealing a face that was red with fever. It smiled as wide as its ability. "Hey," It breathed with effort to regain its vocal chords, clearing its throat as it repeated, "Hey."
Feeling every heartstring being pulled towards his ailing friend, the ever-faithful Garrick approached the bedside and sat with fists on his lap and back arched forward.
"You'll... You'll get sick," Torrin warned, knowingly.
"Hah, don't care." The Diviner of Fate wasn't sure what to do, or how to fix the situation, but he knew that this was the most important place he had to be.
Gently, he placed a hand on Torrin's burning forehead, as if he could heal him with unforeseen magic; but of course, he felt powerless. Had it been Keiran or Sylas, they had such skills, but Garrick...? Torrin only melted
A truck appeared in the left side mirror, rapidly barrelling towards them. By some miracle, Atlas managed to swerve safely onto the shoulder. He slammed on the brakes as the truck whipped past.
After a few rocky breaths, Lizzie tried to laugh. “Wow, t-that was close...That guy really needs to watch where he’s going.”
Atlas said nothing. His knuckles clenched white around the steering wheel; he stared without seeing, eyes wide, mind whirling, heart racing. He was sixteen again, whimpering in pain, quaking at the sight of too much blood, nauseated by the smell of smoke, overwhelmed by the blare of sirens, screaming at his motionless brother in the passenger seat--
“Atlas, are you okay?”
Dimly, he became aware that he was hyperventilating. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t hear what Lizzie was saying.
“...Atlas? Atlas? ATLAS!”
He flinched, jerking his head to look at her.
Judging by his pa
Definition: the formation of a word, as cuckoo, meow, honk, or boom, by imitation of a sound made by or associated with its referent
Words: 500 or less (just over)
"Shhh..." Alek whispered, leaning forward into Nathaniel's space. His eyes were on the door however and not on Nathaniel.
The closet was already cramped and it made Nathaniel all that much more aware of how close his boss was standing. He'd been looking for paper clips and had only just stepped down off of the step ladder when Alek had stepped into the closet. He'd shut the light off and almost entirely closed the door, only a sliver of light shined through the space. Nathaniel had been so shocked he hadn't known what to say and then when he'd opened his mouth to ask Alek what was going on he'd been shushed. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.
"Shhh..." Alek whispered again, this time lifting a finger to his lips.
He really hated that sound right then. Normall
"Oh, my beloved Torrin, whatever brought this up?" A familiar voice squeaked in amusement.
Hah. Rolling his eyes towards the audibility behind a closed door, Garrick figured, Wonder what Keiran and Torrin are up to.
"I… Well, it's just that I – I wanted to try something different. Something new that I thought… maybe you could help me with. You see, I found this book in your library…"
Scheming up some cleaning projects together? Good. Least I'm not the only one who's working. And with that, the blond decided to resume his cheerful mopping duties. He fixed his eyes on a questionably sticky spot on the stone-t
" A disease? Or drug? Weapon?" For such a vastly vague question, Garrick could only wait for any sign of approval from his superior. To each answer, none actually came.
Keiran tapped his fingers along his desk as if performing a one-handed piano concerto. "All of the above, and then some. It's stress." He ended somewhat anticlimactically.
It was only after it was verbalized that the answer seemed only too obvious to Garrick. "Haa, okay, I get it now. But what do you expect me to do about it? In my opinion, all that 'stress' stuff is more or less a mental thing."
"And that it could be, Garrick. Especially with the case of this young man. He has a great life, works hard, could have a bright future But he just doesn't wish to see it that way. Unfortunately, humans are very pro
It started on a Thursday. Serena remembered that much perfectly well. She had never liked Thursdays in September, and certainly not in the company of her cousins. She empathized completely with Green Day, and she'd love to be able to sleep through the entire month, to be woken up when September ended. But then she'd have to deal with October and November... and even into December and January.
She'd considered hibernation, but then she never had thought well of eating as much as that would require. And it hadn't worked out for Garfield anyway. Instead, Serena had stared unbelievingly as her family seemed to go completely insane over men in tight pants throwing a ball and running from one end of the grass to the other.
So she made a habit of being scarce whenever football season came around. Every Thursd
Rather than sitting amongst his coworkers, Sylas stood to pace, needlessly busying himself by lighting the fireplace and moving drapes from the windows. Torrin shifted in his seat for the fifth time, shared a quick look with Garrick, then continued toying with his fingers. And Garrick had a dry aggravation floating in his throat. Though he sat completely still, he couldn't resist the urge to itch and fidget with his casted, tingling arm.
Neither man said a word although the same question played at each of their minds. No mind reading was necessary for the Diviners.
One minute passed since Keiran called them all into the living room. He had yet to arrive himself, to which the three men could only ponder. Apprehensive, unknowing. There was something about the nature and timing of his beckoning that frightened them – though non
But for me, those fifteen minutes was all it took. Like most things that happen, I can rarely explain the why. But as the Diviner of Fate, I can tell you this; what happens, happens regardless.
I remember watching him for the first time. I saw a man, sipping tea in his favorite chair, just watching things as they happened through a glass window. Always smiling, that man.
I'll admit, he confused me then, and he confuses me now.
But before that day, I never really enjoyed my own cup of tea. I'm not sure if he knows, but on that day, he definitely woke me up and snapped me out of something horrible.
I'm now alive and awakened, thanks to that man by the window.
"So what do you think of
The shouting of his name had him raising his head up and glancing around. His gaze settled on a young boy who could have been no older than six. The little boy ran up to the grey and white cat, excitement shining in his eyes. He quickly scooped up Thanatos and ran to the front of the house. In the front yard was a large oak tree, one that had been there for as long as Thanatos could remember, and in front of the tree was an older man. He eyed Thanatos wearily before looking fixedly at the boy holding him.