Hello gang! It's me your loveable and friendly sharpiesgal. I'm your guest host for this week, and with that being said, "Welcome to Tuesday
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She is accustomed to his idiosyncracies. It doesn’t mean she isn’t going to change some of them, take the rough edges off and make him a little less socially ‘difficult’, just because he’s got away with it for so long. Even Tony Stark can learn new tricks.
Sherlock, Sherlock/Watson, experiments before breakfast
If anyone could sit down and split the atom at their kitchen table, it would be Sherlock. Genius is expansive and selfish. So, studying progressive putrefaction in diseased pig samples before tea and toast is to be expected. But John draws the line at using the butter knife for dissection.
All his vulnerability hidden under smiles and confidence, insecurity and anger locked away.
Steve reads flinches and the way Jack pulls back from touches that linger. Always afraid and always smirking and Steve wishes he wouldn't, but doesn't know how to stop him.
Supernatural, girl!Dean, The first time a gun lays in her hand, it’s the closest thing to religion she’ll ever know. The weight becomes her hymns, the bullets her bible and the silence it brings her only salvation.
(( That's a really pretty prompt; did it come from somewhere?
The fic sort of connects to this other fic I wrote which now that I look at it was actually also prompted by you. ))
Dee's guns are everything to her. Behind her family and her Baby, they're the only things that've always stuck with her. They've saved her life and they've saved other people's lives and man, do they get her laid.
But mostly, shooting one was the first time she'd made Dad proud.
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Thanks for the fill.
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Thank you.
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If anyone could sit down and split the atom at their kitchen table, it would be Sherlock. Genius is expansive and selfish. So, studying progressive putrefaction in diseased pig samples before tea and toast is to be expected. But John draws the line at using the butter knife for dissection.
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That is so them.
Thank you.
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Steve reads Jack like he read Bucky.
All his vulnerability hidden under smiles and confidence, insecurity and anger locked away.
Steve reads flinches and the way Jack pulls back from touches that linger. Always afraid and always smirking and Steve wishes he wouldn't, but doesn't know how to stop him.
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The fic sort of connects to this other fic I wrote which now that I look at it was actually also prompted by you. ))
Dee's guns are everything to her. Behind her family and her Baby, they're the only things that've always stuck with her. They've saved her life and they've saved other people's lives and man, do they get her laid.
But mostly, shooting one was the first time she'd made Dad proud.
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I apologize for never commenting on the other fic, after searching my mailbox I discovered it in spam :/
I really enjoy how you paint Dee where she's recognizable as Dean but her own personality, you know?
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Thanks. (: I've got a lot of headcanon for fem!Dean. I should probably do something with it, but. /shrug
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