imagine your otp
Dec. 24th, 2012 12:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kasihyaI have mixed feelings about Imagine Your OTP. Half of it is so specific and scripted it's sort of dumb, and a quarter of it is embarrassingly awful things that makes me cringe, and out of the other quarter, one in every three is the right combination of vague enough and incredibly saccharine enough for me to be able to use for flash fiction. However, that quarter is still fun. So here are some:
Imagine your OTP decorating the Christmas tree together [Supernatural]
Castiel contemplated the massive pine tree which graced Rockefeller Center — more specifically, the as-yet-undecorated peak. “Perhaps, when I am not trying to lie low,” he said, as neutrally as possible.
Meg smirked.
Imagine your OTP decorating the Christmas tree, and person A eats the popcorn garland as B strings it around the tree. [Running Before the Wind]
Simon snatched the popcorn garland away from Karen. “You’re not supposed to eat it! Do you know how old this is?”
Karen rolled her eyes at him. “It’s popcorn, it’s not going to kill me, and no one’s going to notice a few bare spots. Tell him, David.”
David was laughing too hard to answer.
Imagine your OTP cosplaying as their OTP [Arba's Children as Sam'n'Dean]
Taran lifted high his prize: a plaid button-up shirt. “I’ve got it! I borrowed it from Madoc.” He shrugged it on, and picked up the journal from the table. “How do I look?”
“Like a dork.” Neirin grinned.
Imagine Your OTP surviving the Apocalypse [Arba's Children]
The last that Andras had heard, Rhydwen had been traveling with a caravan of teithwyr merchants, protecting the eldest granddaughter of the matriarch. He supposed that it was too much to hope that Rhydwen had survived the vultures that had descended in swarms from the skies, devouring the flesh off of every human still alive, but Andras had nothing more to lose, so he salvaged what he could from the store rooms and skeletons, and set off.
To the south, Rhydwen finished burying the last of his family.
Imagine your OTP knitting each other ugly sweaters [Supernatural]
“No, you knit one of the blue, then purl two of the yellow, you dummy,” says Ruby.
Sam is tempted to throw the entire project at her, needles and all — if they draw blood, so much the better — and is only stopped by the thought of all the little loops sliding off again. “It’s an ugly sweater, Ruby. It’s supposed to be ugly.”
Ruby rolls her eyes and takes it from him, switching the loops around so that they face the right way. “Artfully ugly, Sam. Artfully. Not holier than he is.”
Imagine your OTP decorating the Christmas tree together [Supernatural]
Castiel contemplated the massive pine tree which graced Rockefeller Center — more specifically, the as-yet-undecorated peak. “Perhaps, when I am not trying to lie low,” he said, as neutrally as possible.
Meg smirked.
Imagine your OTP decorating the Christmas tree, and person A eats the popcorn garland as B strings it around the tree. [Running Before the Wind]
Simon snatched the popcorn garland away from Karen. “You’re not supposed to eat it! Do you know how old this is?”
Karen rolled her eyes at him. “It’s popcorn, it’s not going to kill me, and no one’s going to notice a few bare spots. Tell him, David.”
David was laughing too hard to answer.
Imagine your OTP cosplaying as their OTP [Arba's Children as Sam'n'Dean]
Taran lifted high his prize: a plaid button-up shirt. “I’ve got it! I borrowed it from Madoc.” He shrugged it on, and picked up the journal from the table. “How do I look?”
“Like a dork.” Neirin grinned.
Imagine Your OTP surviving the Apocalypse [Arba's Children]
The last that Andras had heard, Rhydwen had been traveling with a caravan of teithwyr merchants, protecting the eldest granddaughter of the matriarch. He supposed that it was too much to hope that Rhydwen had survived the vultures that had descended in swarms from the skies, devouring the flesh off of every human still alive, but Andras had nothing more to lose, so he salvaged what he could from the store rooms and skeletons, and set off.
To the south, Rhydwen finished burying the last of his family.
Imagine your OTP knitting each other ugly sweaters [Supernatural]
“No, you knit one of the blue, then purl two of the yellow, you dummy,” says Ruby.
Sam is tempted to throw the entire project at her, needles and all — if they draw blood, so much the better — and is only stopped by the thought of all the little loops sliding off again. “It’s an ugly sweater, Ruby. It’s supposed to be ugly.”
Ruby rolls her eyes and takes it from him, switching the loops around so that they face the right way. “Artfully ugly, Sam. Artfully. Not holier than he is.”
