#I just couldn’t get the expression right for him. with mash I was just having fun drawing pathetic loser crying

[p1nkc4lyps0]

summer one farmer mash shitpost except I was having too much fun with the expressions and the meme is now a little off anyway they’re both autistic

[starlazergazer]

Couldn't Get Rid of Me if You Tried

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request(s): Reader has a nightmare and Anakin stays with her / Reader can’t sleep so Anakin stays by her side / Reader hasn’t slept in a few days and Anakin notices and makes the reader go to bed, not leaving until they fall asleep

Warnings: Swearing, nightmares

Word Count: 4.9K

A/N: Long overdue but I finally finished writing something! This is a mash up of a few different requests I thought would work well together so let me know what you think!

Anakin fixed his robes for what felt like the tenth time in the last ten minutes, part of him chastising himself for being this anxious over nothing but a bigger part of him worried that they weren’t laying properly, or that his hair was sticking up in a weird direction, or that there was something stuck in his teeth.

Not that you would ever judge him for any of that of course. In fact, he already knew exactly what you would do. You would fix whatever it was yourself, an amused giggle slipping out as you approached to rake your hands through his hair attempting to tame every stray piece until you were satisfied, a light smile never dropping from your face throughout the process.

Another part of him considered messing up something on purpose just so he could see that smile.

But no that was a bit ridiculous even for him. You were expected to land any minute now and spend the next week in meetings preparing to address the senate, and Anakin was to be your guard for the entire time. He’d have plenty of time to earn your smile, hopefully without needing to embarrass himself.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. Anakin quickly jumping to his feet, holding his hands rigidly in front of him and taking a deep breath.

A loud voice sounded before he saw anyone, a list of meetings and notes being rattled off by one of your aids loudly as in strolled your own personal security guard, the man immediately noticing Anakin and giving him a small nod before scanning the room, you following in close behind him.

Anakin couldn’t help but grin as you entered the room, your attention completely absorbed by the datapad you held in your hand, eyes skimming across the screen rapidly as you read, offering small hums of acknowledgment as your aide continued to rattle off messages.

You walked right by without even noticing, going on autopilot to your desk and setting the pad down, not sitting yourself but rather standing over it, stretching your legs as you continued to read. Anakin couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath at the sight, vividly remembering your conversation with him after your last flight into Coruscant about how the long flight made your legs ache, you refusing to sit for as long as possible afterwards in an attempt to get blood flowing back to your toes.

“Allana has senator-“ and finally your gaze rose from the pad, instinctively heading towards your aide’s form but snapping to Anakin the minute you realized there was another person in the room, brows furrowed for a moment before you recognized him “An- uh jedi Skywalker?”

His lips ticked up at the near slipup, giving you a small bow “senator it’s nice to see you”

“It’s nice to see you too” and the confused expression returned to your face, eyes snapping to your guard then aide for a moment before returning “Is there something I can help you with?”

It was now Anakin’s turn to wear the confused expression “I was under the assumption that you had requested extra protection for your speech”

Your eyes snapped to your bodyguard, raising an eyebrow “Did we request extra protection?”

“We did” he nodded, pausing a brief second before continuing hesitantly “I figured it could be beneficial after what happened last time”

He could hear your sigh from across the room as your gaze snapped back to the datapad, quickly resuming your reading only making Anakin more confused.

“What happened last time?”

Your gaze snapped up to your guard, a silent threat sent across the room before your gaze connected with his, a smile painted on your lips that didn’t reach your eyes “nothing”

Anakin was already turning to Dex, your guard, a million questions on the tip of his tongue. He hadn’t been on Coruscant the last time you had made the trip out but he hadn’t heard of anything happening. What were you keeping from him? Instead of being able to ask, however, Allana spoke up, her voice slightly higher than usual as she sought to cut the tension in the air.

“Senator you’re needed at-“

You didn’t even let her finish, grabbing your datapad off the table and waving her off “of course senator Elan’s meeting thank you Allana” and without even looking back at him you were headed back out the door, your entourage filing out behind you leaving Anakin to bring up the rear, trying to edge off his disappointment from your much too quick welcome.

-

You were back at your desk, the same place you had been all day if not in a meeting, typing away furiously at your speech before you, not taking notice of Anakin’s approach until he set the glass down before you.

He’d made you your favorite, the same one you always had whenever you came to Coruscant, usually shared with Anakin while the two of you talked before bed. He always missed those talks, one of the few times he felt like he could really talk about himself not in relation to the jedi order, one of the few times he got to actually hear from you, not the senator.

You smiled up at him as he set it down and Anakin felt a warmth spread through his chest at that look, feeling that finally you were looking at him for the first time all day, not the curious jedi showing up in your room or the hired guard standing off in the corner, just a friend who made you a drink. “Thanks Ani”

And oh how he missed hearing that nickname from you, a grin creeping on his lips as he clinked his own glass softly against yours, rising it to his lips in an attempt to hide it as he sat down in one of the chairs before your desk, settling in as you went back to typing, finishing out a few more words before finally taking the glass.

“Where’s Dex?”

You shrugged back at him, eyes casting back to your screen as you read over whatever you had written “I told him he could go to bed, you’re up to guard me”

He nodded back at your answer, taking another sip of his drink before responding “It is rather late are you heading to bed soon yourself?”

He watched your eyes jump to the nearest clock, eyebrows jumping up slightly as you read the time, an exhausted sigh escaping as you rubbed a hand over your face “Today went by much too quickly”

He chuckled softly at you as you shut down your system, picking up your glass as you walked down around your desk to sit in the chair next to him, angling your body to face him “I guess time flies when you’re having fun” he offered.

You laughed at that, shaking your head softly “oh is that what this is?”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you and Anakin always loved how he never felt the need to fill silences like this when they came up between the two of you, more than happy to just sit in your company.

“How’s Obi-wan doing?” You asked him, a small smile growing on Anakin’s face.

“He’s good, he’s off world on an assignment right now”

“You’re not with him?”

“No there’s this senator who requested extra protection for this speech she’s giving” he responded innocently “extra protection her team requested due to some incident she stupidly won’t tell me about”

You hummed back in response and Anakin couldn’t help but notice the way you seemed to struggle to keep your eyes open, your posture completely slumped over in your chair as you used it to support your head “maybe this senator has a very good reason for that”

“I doubt it” he responded with a soft shake of his head “maybe this senator should go get some sleep before she falls asleep in her office chair”

That seemed to snap you back to attention, your posture pushing you back up slightly as you made extra effort to make eye contact with him, groaning slightly as you did so “no I’m okay”

“oh yeah you look it” he hummed back with a smirk, pushing himself to his feet and offering you his hand.

“No come on talk to me. I haven’t gotten to talk to you in months I miss it” and he felt his heartstrings tug at your words, his smirk growing into a softer smile as he chuckled slightly.

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me for a whole week” he mused “but right now you look like you need sleep badly so come on”

With a small roll of your eyes you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. And he tried to ignore the fact that he had stood too close to your feet when he pulled you up, tried to pretend it hadn’t been his intention when your body was nearly pressed against his once you were standing, tried to disregard the way his body seemed to hum from the close contact before he stepped aside and slipped a soft hand to the small of your back to usher you forward.

“You know I think I can find my way back to my room from here” the amusement in your voice telling him that you didn’t mind.

“The council tasked me with protecting you this week and I’ll have you know I take my job very seriously” he told you, the mock sincerity in his own tone making you laugh, his heart swelling within his chest at the sound.

“I’ll be sure to leave you a glowing review with the council then, five stars for jedi Skywalker” you slowed outside your door, pushing it open but spinning around to lean against the doorway and face him, Anakin relishing the soft smile that graced your lips as you looked up at him.

“I certainly hope that your scale is out of five stars” he practically hummed the words, taking a cautious step closer to you eagerly noting the way the corners of your mouth lifted even higher as he did so.

“oooh unfortunately my scale is out of ten stars” you scrunched up your face in a grimace, a small shake to your head as your eyes bounced back and forth between his own “you lost some back there when you made me go to bed instead of staying to talk to me”

“It’s a good thing I have all week to earn them back then” he mused with a smirk, leaning softly forward.

And by this point it would be so easy, so easy to lean down and close the distance, so easy to capture your lips into his own, so easy to pull you by the waist against his chest, so so easy….so so over the line.

He halted his movements the second the thought occurred to him, the realization that any push forward would be without a doubt crossing a line. And he wasn’t just talking about the jedi’s line, he could reconcile with disobeying the code, but this would be crossing your own as well. He was your hired guard, a man whose sole responsibility it was to protect you, surely you wouldn’t want someone like that acting the way he so desperately wanted to, crossing that professionalism boundary.

It'd been quiet for too long, Anakin too in his own head to realize it until it was too late, until your smile started to slowly slip off your lips, a ghost of one remaining as you spoke, soft and sweet “Goodnight Ani”

And he tried to ignore the effect that nickname had on him as he forced himself to take a step back, giving you a small nod “goodnight senator”

“Y/N” the correction came quickly.

And he would pretend that he hadn’t done it on purpose, used your title instead of your name just so that you would correct him, assert in this moment at least that your relationship went beyond just senator and jedi guard. He would pretend that right now that was enough.

“Goodnight Y/N”

-

Anakin struggled to sleep that night, not that that was unexpected after what he had nearly done in your doorway, so it was no surprise that he was up early and dragging himself towards the dinning room of your apartment before the sun had even a chance to rise.

What was surprising was to see you already at the table, a piece of toast in one hand, a document you were reading over in the other.

“You’re already up?” he didn’t bother to disguise the shock in his voice, his brows furrowing at the sight.

“Had some work to get done” you shrugged, not taking your eyes off the document “figured I’d get an early start”

Slowly he made his way around the table to the chair beside you, his eyes never leaving your figure as he tried to piece out what information it felt like he was missing, his gaze quickly catching the dark bags under your eyes and the slow lethargic blinks you were giving the paper “how long have you been up?”

“Not long” another shrug, another avoidance.

“You look like you’re on the brink of collapsing” he pushed a teasing tone into his voice, hoping making light of the situation would get you to drop whatever guard you still had up “you don’t have any meetings for another few hours why don’t you go back to sleep for a little longer”

Finally you turned your head to look at him, Anakin easily seeing through your every attempt to appear more awake, the way your posture straightened, the way your gaze widened slightly, the small uptick in one side of your mouth as you forced a smile, a façade created solely for his benefit “I’m okay Ani”

“And you’d tell me if you weren’t?” he asked skeptically.

This got an amused snort out of you as you turned back to your work, a more real smile gracing your lips “probably not”

And for now he decided to drop it, to let you have whatever secret you were keeping from him, to let you have one sleepless night “next time I’m asking for a less stubborn senator”

You laughed at that, a fond shake of your head as you glanced over at him “nice try I know I’m your favorite”

You have no idea.

-

He found you in the same place as the night before, your head propped up lazily on your fist as you stared down at the page before you on the desk, your other hand slowly taking notes with movements that were far too large and far too lazy to be anything legible. “Senator we have got to stop meeting like this” he teased from the doorway, a brief flick up of your eyes the only sign that you had heard him “you behind your desk nearly falling asleep in the chair, me walking in telling you to go to bed. Feels awfully familiar”

“Y/N” your soft voice quietly protested; your head still propped in the same position as you ignored the rest of his sentence.

“Y/N let’s go to bed” He dropped his voice to a low, calm pitch, stepping into the room and up to your desk, watching you slowly push yourself into a more upright position.

“No I need to finish this” you objected with a sigh, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes as you stretched in your chair.

He couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at the movement, his eyes darting down to the page you were taking notes on “sweetheart your notes aren’t even legible.”

Your head snapped down to the page as well, taking in what looked like nothing more than a series of random loops that were supposed to be your notes “shit”

“yeah” he chuckled softly, head nodding to behind him as he spoke “come on you can do it in the morning.”

“No I need to-“ objections poured out of your mouth again but Anakin barely heard them as he made his way around your desk to crouch down next to you, your voice halting once Anakin placed the crook of his finger beneath your chin, pulling your gaze to him.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked softly, taking in the way every feature of yours screamed of exhaustion “and don’t say last night I know that’s a lie”

You let out a sigh at that, pulling your face back from his grasp “I mean I did sleep some last night”

“When was the last time you slept more than an hour?” he countered.

That question silenced you, your gaze fixed on the work in front of you, your voice so soft when you finally did answer Anakin had to strain to hear it “I don’t know”

“Exactly” he sighed, reaching down to grab one of your wrists, giving it a small tug “come on you need to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep” and he knew it wasn’t just because of work, but he wasn’t going to push, not yet.

“Okay, you said last night you wanted to talk what if we did that instead?”

Your head rose to meet his gaze slowly, your brows furrowed slightly as you looked up at him skeptically “yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded with a smirk “but only If you’re laying down in bed”

You groaned at that, your body slumping forward so that your forehead hit your desk.

“Come on” he laughed, using a hand on your shoulder to pull you back up to sitting position, giving it a soft squeeze before reluctantly removing it “you don’t want to sleep? Fine, but at least lay down. A compromise” he tried to convince you with a small chuckle “and here I thought you’d be proud of my negotiating abilities as a senator and all.”

That finally earned him a laugh, then another groan as you pushed yourself to your feet “can’t believe you’re using this power for evil.”

“If you weren’t so stubborn I wouldn’t have to” he hummed back softly, leading you down the hallway and to your room, giving you a chance to change and brush your teeth before ushering you to your bed and taking a seat on the ground beside it.

“You know it’s a big bed” you offered softly, sleep already pulling your voice down to a near mumble “you can sit up here.”

“I’m good right here” he responded softly as he leaned his back against your mattress, his position putting him mere inches from your resting form above.

A hand was cast carefully down over the edge of the mattress and before Anakin could think otherwise he reached up and tangled his fingers with yours, choosing to believe you offered it to him by doing so, accepting that perhaps it was just the position you liked to sleep in even as you hummed happily from above him as he rubbed the pad of his thumb lazily back and forth on your finger.

“Can we talk yet?” your voice was muffled from your position on the mattress, but Anakin didn’t complain, keeping up the rhythmic motions of his thumb as he responded in a soft voice barely above a whisper.

“What do you want to talk about sweetheart?”

“Tell me about your last mission” you supplied immediately a smile rising on Anakin’s face as he started to tell the story, barely paying attention to his own words as he instead focused on the sound of your breathing, waiting until it started to slow and deepen.

He stopped talking once it did, his thumb slowing to a halt only after he made sure you hadn’t noticed the silence, only then daring to press a soft kiss to your knuckles before pushing himself to his feet and out the door. A soft “goodnight Y/N” whispered from the doorway before he shut the door behind him.

-

Not long after Anakin had fallen asleep a disturbance in the force was dragging him back to consciousness. It took a few seconds to orient himself as he sat up in bed, part of his brain trying to take in his surroundings while the other part was screaming that something was wrong.

His body reacted before his mind did, his feet were on the ground and pulling him towards you before anything else, his only instinct being to get to you.

Saber hilt in hand he threw open your bedroom door, eyes rapidly scanning the empty room before falling on your sleeping form as your head whipped back and forth, soft whimpers falling from your lips as your legs tangled up in the sheets.

With a small sigh in relief Anakin set his saber down on your bedside table before making his way over to you, a hand coming to your shoulder to give your body a small shake.

Your eyes shot open immediately, a surprised yelp escaping your lips the same moment, as one foot reared up and made contact with his torso.

A grunt left Anakin as he was pushed backwards by your kick, your form scrambling up the bed to get further away from him, loud ragged breaths coming from you as you curled up defensively in a ball as far away from him as you could.

 “Hey hey it’s okay” he tried to soothe you, one hand coming up but refusing to take a step towards you yet, giving you a moment to calm down.

Your heavy breaths were the only thing filling the silence in the room as you offered no response, your form staying tightly curled in on itself as Anakin practically begged you to answer him.

“Y/N you’re safe, it’s just me, it’s Anakin” he tried again.

Your breaths halted at his words, your form remaining unmoving, Anakin risked a step forward.

“It’s just me”

“Ani?” Your broken voice had his knees shaking, Anakin having to fight to urge to rush to you knowing that would likely just set you off again.

“Yeah that’s right it’s just me sweetheart”

Another tense silence passed between the two of you before you spoke again, your voice slightly stronger “Ani? Ani, oh god I’m so sorry-“

Anakin didn’t let you finish, taking your words to mean he was okay to approach as he closed the distance between the two of you in a few steps and scooped you up into his arms as he sat down on the bed.

You didn’t hesitate to curl up in his arms, taking the opportunity to bury your face in his chest, slow shaky breaths wracking your body as you fought more tears.

“You got nothing to apologize for sweetheart” he tried to assure you, running a hand softly through your hair as he held you tightly against himself.

Your breaths started to slowly even out as your muscles started to untense, your body slowly relaxing in his hold. Only once you had completely calmed down did Anakin speak again, burying his face in your hair “do you want to talk about it?”

You didn’t respond, something Anakin certainly didn’t blame you for, simply held you against him, rocking softly as he continued to stroke your hair.

After a few more minutes you started to shift in his arms and Anakin had to fight the instinct to hold on tighter, to not let you escape. Nonetheless he forced his arms to go slack to allow for your movement, feeling relieved when all you did was shift until your back was against his chest. Anakin eagerly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him once again, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence.

“Last time we were here” your voice was soft enough that even from his position just behind you he struggled to hear “a man broke in and hid in my room”

Anakin’s movements stilled at that, his entire body freezing for a moment as his brain struggled to process your words.

“I just woke up and he was there at the end of my bed” you continued in an empty, hollow voice “I screamed and Dex came and took care of it. Nothing happened, nothing” and here it felt like you were trying to assure yourself more than him “but still I’ve been having nightmares about it ever since”

And as usual Anakin’s first instinct was to reach for anger, ire rising within him towards the jedi council for not telling him, towards Obi-wan who had to have known, towards Dex for letting him act as your guard without all the facts, towards himself for not having picked up on it sooner.

But as you shook slightly in his arms he knew his anger wouldn’t serve him properly here, lashing out at anyone wouldn’t fix anything, it wasn’t what you needed now.

His hold on you tightened, pulling you further into his chest as his chin sat comfortably in the crook of your neck, mumbling the question against your skin “sweetheart why didn’t you say anything?”

You sniffled, your cheek resting comfortably against his for a second before you answered “It’s stupid”

“It’s not-“ Anakin’s objection came quickly but your affirmation followed shortly, as if you had been expecting it.

“It is, he didn’t even hurt me, didn’t threaten me, just startled me and now months later I’m still too scared to sleep? It’s pathetic”

“You are far from pathetic” You could feel Anakins words against your skin as he spoke, his face lifting off your shoulder to press a kiss to the back of your head “A man broke into your room and you found him looming over you while you slept, that is objectively terrifying.”

He felt you sigh against him, the words clearly not fully sinking in.

“Besides its not entirely about what had happened, which I cannot stress enough is horrible, but rather the idea of what could have happened. Maker Y/N why are you even still in this room? You should’ve taken mine”

You were quiet for a bit, a deep breath inflating your chest against him before you responded “I thought if I stayed here I could force myself to get over it, to try and be braver than it”

He shook his head at that, unable to keep the fond smirk from growing on his lips at your answer “You’re plenty brave for even taking this apartment after last time, staying in the same room is just stupid”

That earned him a wet laugh, a few chuckles that had you relaxing slightly in his hold “Will you stay with me, please?”

The thought of leaving hadn’t even occurred to him “Sweetheart you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried”

Another small set of chuckles, your body further melding with his as you relaxed even further, exhaustion finally starting to take over.

“Except not here, come on lets go back to my room”

You shook your head at that, leaning it back against his chest “no it’s okay-“

“Please” he cut you off with a near whisper “for me please don’t force yourself to stay in this room”

Nothing but the feeling of your breaths against his chest for a few moments before a reluctant nod “yeah okay”

Anakin smiled satisfactorily at that, slowly, reluctantly releasing his hold on you to allow you to stand up, not hesitating before taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him before you could object.

Walking into his room Anakin didn’t hesitate to slip into one side of the bed, watching you carefully as you stood apprehensively at the edge of the bed on the other side, slow choppy movements in your limbs as you reached for the covers and carefully got into the other side, taking care to stay on your side.

But after tonight there was no more overthinking, no more worrying about crossing the line, no more talking himself out of things. You needed him and to Anakin that superseded everything.

As soon as your head hit the pillow Anakin scootched up behind you, throwing an arm around your waist and pulling you up against his chest, chuckling at the small gasp that left you at the movement.

But you didn’t pull away, your muscles tense for a moment as you adjusted before you relaxed against him, one foot coming back to tangle your legs with his own, burying yourself further into his chest as Anakin offered a content hum.

“For the record I really would have been okay with staying in my own room as long as you were there” You whispered back at him “you make me feel safe Ani”

He tightened the hold on you even more at your words, a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks overtaking his face as he buried it in your hair “alright we can try that tomorrow then”

“tomorrow?” you teased easily, any tension from the circumstances of your present predicament slowly fading from the room “awfully sure of yourself there aren’t you?”

“I told you sweetheart, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried”

[cailinsblog]

Baking Up Love: A Cozy Pumpkin Pie Date with Lando

Lando Norris x reader

The kitchen was buzzing with autumn vibes as Y/N and Lando prepared to tackle their first attempt at making a pumpkin pie together. Lando was fully equipped with a messy apron he’d already splattered with flour, while Y/N wore her own apron, ready to guide him through the recipe.

“Alright, chef,” Y/N said with a playful grin, holding up a can of pumpkin puree. “Ready to become a pie-making master?”

Lando looked at her skeptically, tilting his head as he glanced down at the ingredients. “I mean, I feel like I’ve got this,” he said with exaggerated confidence. “How hard could it be?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Y/N teased, already laughing at his clueless expression. “Let’s start with the crust, shall we?”

She handed him a bowl and some flour, and as he poured the flour into the bowl, a small cloud puffed up around them. He looked down at the small mess and grinned sheepishly. “So… maybe this’ll be a little harder than I thought.”

They moved through the steps of the recipe with Y/N guiding him and Lando playfully pretending to know what he was doing. Every once in a while, he’d shoot her a proud grin as he successfully completed a step, and she’d respond with an encouraging nod or clap.

“Alright, next step is adding cold butter to the flour,” Y/N explained. “Here, we’re supposed to cut it in until it looks crumbly.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure. “Cut in the butter?” he repeated, poking the butter with a fork.

Y/N laughed, taking his hand and guiding him through the motion. “Yeah, like this,” she said, helping him blend the butter into the flour. “It’s like you’re mashing it up.”

He caught on quickly, and they ended up laughing and bumping elbows as they took turns mashing up the butter until the dough looked just right.

“Alright, now we just need to chill it,” she said, brushing a bit of flour off her hands.

Lando nodded, but just as she turned around to put the dough in the fridge, he dipped his fingers in a bit of leftover flour and gently tapped her on the nose, leaving a small white smudge. Y/N froze, her eyes widening as she looked at him in mock disbelief.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Norris,” she said with a grin, scooping up a bit of flour in her hand.

He laughed, backing up with his hands held up in surrender. “Hey, hey, hey, I was just trying to add a bit of style here!”

She didn’t buy it, though, and before he knew it, a small handful of flour had hit his shoulder, leaving a dusting across his black T-shirt.

“Alright, that’s it!” he said, laughing as he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close and wiping a bit of flour from his shoulder onto her apron.

They laughed, both now a bit flour-covered, until Y/N finally surrendered, her cheeks flushed with laughter as they pulled apart. “Truce?”

“Truce,” he said with a playful smile, giving her a quick peck on the forehead.

Once the dough was chilling, they moved on to the filling. Y/N showed him how to measure out the pumpkin puree, brown sugar, and spices, watching as he carefully followed her instructions. The sweet and spicy aroma filled the kitchen, giving everything that warm, cozy fall feeling.

“Alright, now mix it all together,” she instructed, handing him a whisk.

Lando took the whisk and started stirring, glancing up at her with a small grin. “You know, I think I might actually be getting good at this.”

“You’re a natural,” she teased, nudging him. “By the end of this, you’ll be teaching me.”

He grinned, and they continued working together, stirring and adding ingredients. Y/N noticed the way Lando’s eyes would light up with each step, how he’d sneak little glances at her whenever she wasn’t looking. It made her heart feel warm, and she couldn’t help but think how much fun she was having with him, even in the simple, messy process of making a pie.

Once the filling was done, they pulled the dough out of the fridge, and Y/N rolled it out into a circle, carefully placing it in the pie pan. Lando watched closely, leaning over her shoulder.

“That looks amazing,” he murmured, looking impressed.

“Your turn,” she said, handing him the pan of filling. “Pour it in, chef.”

He grinned, pouring the pumpkin filling into the crust as she watched, making sure he got every last bit. They then placed the pie in the oven, setting the timer and giving each other a high five to celebrate their teamwork.

As they waited for the pie to bake, they cleaned up the kitchen, still teasing each other about the flour fight and laughing over their mistakes along the way. When the timer finally went off, Y/N took the pie out of the oven, and they both stood back, admiring their work.

“It actually looks… delicious,” Lando said, clearly proud of himself. He leaned over to inhale the warm, spicy scent and grinned. “Who knew I had it in me?”

Y/N laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “I’m impressed. You make a pretty great baking partner.”

“Guess we’ll have to make this a fall tradition then,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist as they admired their creation.

Once the pie had cooled a bit, they sliced into it, each taking a piece to taste. Lando took a big bite, his eyes lighting up as he chewed.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said, nodding in approval. “I mean, I knew we’d nail it.”

Y/N took a bite herself, savoring the sweet, spiced flavor and nodding in agreement. “We’re basically pros,” she joked, laughing when Lando gave her a look of mock seriousness.

“Next time, we’re tackling an apple pie,” he declared, his arm still around her as they finished their slices, stealing bites from each other’s plates.

They spent the rest of the evening sharing stories and laughing over their flour-covered adventure, both feeling perfectly content in each other’s company. The kitchen was a mess, but the warmth of their laughter and the scent of pumpkin pie made it feel like the coziest place in the world.

⚠️please reblog and send suggestions⚠️

[something-tofightfor]

Smutsgiving Feast 2023: Mashed Potatoes and Gravy / Frankie & Pope

Pairing: Frankie x Reader x Pope (Caught On)

Word Count: 1,061

Rating: M.

Author's Note: Thanks to @the-blind-assassin-12 for suggesting this pairing ... it was nice to get back to them. And it gives you some hints about where Caught On is going long-term.

Summary: Frankie and Santi keep things interesting at dinner.

It was hard for you to remember a time before you’d had both of them in your life, and as you looked around the bustling room, you realized that you didn’t want to ever go back to that. Who would? 

Locking eyes with Pope first, you watched his nose wrinkle before he grinned at you, lifting his fork before he took a bite of potatoes. “You’re eating dry ass potatoes, Santiago?” Frankie leaned closer from his seat next to you, his confusion apparent. “No butter? No gravy? That shit makes everything better. Who are you and what have you done with -”

“There’s plenty of butter in them, ‘Fish.” Pope swallowed, head moving back and forth. “And some of us like to taste what we’re eating, not drown it in something else entirely.” He shrugged. “Worry about what’s on your own plate, pendejo.” You snorted at that, lifting the glass to your lips to disguise the sound, but Pope continued. “I can think of a couple things that taste just fine without adding anything else to ‘em.” 

His eyes flicked to you briefly and when Pope winked, you nearly choked on your drink, spluttering as you covered your mouth with one hand. Oh, he didn’t. He didn’t just … Frankie’s hand was immediately on your back, the man patting it gently as you coughed and tried to swallow, refusing to look at either of them. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret to your friends that the three of you were together, but it was bold of Pope to mention it at Thanksgiving dinner, Will’s house filled with the entire extended Miller family along with some of Pope and Frankie’s family members. Benny and Will know what’s going on, but nobody else is … “You’re right.” Frankie’s patting turned into rubbing, the weight of his hand moving in slow circles soothing you. “Some things taste perfect as is.”

“Christ, you two are …” They’re going to kill me one of these days. One or both of them, and - 

“100% correct?” Pope raised a brow, sipping from his beer.  "Qualified enough to know what we’re talking about?”

“Experienced enough to be sure?” Frankie nudged you with his knee, leaning closer so that he could speak into your ear, though you didn’t - couldn’t - look away from Pope. “Maybe we need another chance to test out that theory, though.” Your eyes widened and so did Santi’s smile, the man obviously aware to some degree what his best friend was saying. They didn’t even plan this and they’re still… unbelievable. 

“If the two of you don’t quit it, the only thing you’ll be putting in your mouth for the foreseeable future is fucking microwave dinners, so …” Frankie laughed first and then Pope joined in, your mock annoyance gone moments later when you laughed with them, leaning over to rest your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “I love you, Francisco.” 

“Love you too.” He turned his head to kiss yours, exhaling when you straightened up and caught Pope’s eye again, giving him a soft smile. And you too, Santi. He nodded once, returning the smile. But three can play this game. 

You reached for the gravy boat, picking it up and then tipping it over your plate as your shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “I think I’m with Frankie on this one though. Sorry, Pope.” Purposely letting some of the liquid drip down the side of the container, you swiped at it with your thumb and then brought the digit to your mouth, licking it clean. “Big sauce fan over here. Especially white sauce. Gravy is good, but -”

“Cool it.” You stopped when you felt the weight of two hands on your shoulders. Your mouth fell open as you jerked your head back, looking up and at Will’s annoyed expression. Whoops. He bent down, lowering his voice. “Unless you want to explain to my extended family that you’re married to Frankie and sleepin’ with Pope, and the three of you are -”

“Sorry, Will.” Pressing your lips together, you winced. “But they started it.” 

“Oh, I know they did. No doubt.” He squeezed your shoulders and then stood back up, looking first at Frankie and then at Pope before  gesturing to the rest of the room. “And for the record, I agree with you, Santi. Some things just taste so goddamn good they don’t need -” 

That was as far as he got before all of you were laughing, the outburst loud enough to attract the attention of a few of the other people on the room. Alright well… that ends that. Picking up your fork you took a bite of your gravy-covered potatoes, focusing back on your plate. The two men were trouble on their own, but together they were a force - and it was something that you were fortunate enough to experience on  regular basis. I’m the luckiest person alive. 

Will wandered off to speak to his mother and you, Frankie and Pope returned to your dinner. The sounds of forks scraping against plates was all that you heard until Frankie finished, standing up and heading to the kitchen with his empty plate. You eyed Pope again, but he was focused on his food, chasing the last remnants of the meal around on his plate with his fork. 

But he reached for his phone at the same time yours vibrated, Pope’s eyes widening as he read what was on the screen before glancing up at you and smirking, the device still in one hand. Frankie, what the fuck are you doing? 

You checked your messages then, too, and were unable to hold back your laughter at the text message - to the point and so Frankie that it made you ache. 

You should probably come over later, Pope. We gotta settle this once and for all. 

“Sounds good to me.” Pope’s mumbled words were accompanied by a few taps on his screen and a thumbs up emoji, and when you replied with a message of your own a few seconds later, you heard Frankie laugh from the kitchen when he saw the message. 

I’m very full. Had a big dinner. You two are terrible influences. 

It only took a few moments, but you got replies from both men at just about the same time, Frankie’s message loading only seconds before Pope’s. 

There’s always room for dessert. 

You think you're full... but I know you've always got room for us. 

— 

[glossgojo]

pretty boy

carmen berzatto x mafia boss reader

excerpt from my full one-shot on ao3

MINORS DNI: violence, carmy cleans up your wounds, AFAB reader, smut, p in v, no protection, cream pie, carmy has to make it fit 😵‍💫, riding, rushed and desperate, all in his tiny office, set in s1

the week was eventful, you had scars to show it. one of your men had gotten out of line, selling drugs on the side to kids and you had to take action, of course with everyone’s approval. since he was part of your family you would deal with it, the guy didn’t take it well even trying to stab you and missing your scalp but grazing it in the process. in the end you had won, the body disposed of in the river as was custom for disgraced members. your body still ached but it didn’t stop you from visiting the beef the day after.

the cut was stitched up, covered in bandage. the members were laying low following the event, there was going to be a meeting to discuss how it could happen. carmy had noticed that the shop was less busy today, the street still safe but no suited men in sight.

and then he saw you walk in, still beautiful as ever but an unmistakable bandage on your forehead and his stomach flipped. without thinking twice he crossed from behind the counter to where you stood, anxiety bubbling up his throat, burning his insides as he spoke up.

“what happened?” his hands were on his hips, he almost looked angry and for some reason it bothered you. his eyes bore down at you, making you grimace.

“i don’t like lying carmy and you’re not gonna like the answer.” you muttered, eyes looking away. this would be it, he’d think you were too much and too scary and cast you away. carmy took in your dejected expression, combed his fingers through his hair and thought about your words before responding.

“fuck fine, but you’re okay right?” you lifted your head, taking in how crystal eyes scanned your face, his tattooed hand leaving his hip and a finger hovering over where your bandage was.

“yeah i’m okay.” you gave him a small smile and it quelled some of the burning in carmy’s gut. he motioned towards an empty booth, he knew how to get rid of the rest of the feeling. he could take care of you the only way he knew how.

“sit let me grab you something to eat.” before you could argue, he was flying back to the kitchen and you were grateful for the lack of patrons. you felt less guilty in stealing his time. maybe ten minutes had passed before a grilled chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and greens were in front of you. steam rose from the food, aroma rising with it and you felt a surge of hunger. carmy took a seat across from you, setting down a glass of water for you as he did.

“you made this?” you were a little bit stunned, not able to remember the last time someone outside of family cooked for you without being paid for it.

“uh huh, try it.” you dug in, grinning and groaning at the flavors on your tongue and carmy was reeling from your reaction. his anxiety was fading away, instead now his blood rushing, he could hear your gleeful sounds.

“this is seriously so good, did you try some?” he shook his head and you just wouldn’t have that. if the table wasn’t so wide you would’ve fed him yourself but instead passed the plate to him. he cut up a piece of chicken and added mashed potatoes before biting down. you watched the fork enter and unabashedly stared at his fingers, they looked so much larger and thicker around the utensil than yours. and the same fingers were moving to cut more pieces, cutting the green beans into chunks before pushing the plate back to you. you watched in awe as he slowly chewed on his bite, trying to figure out why he had just cut your food up for you. did you look helpless? was this the special treatment he was talking about? surely he didn’t see you as a cute little puppy needing affection and care. you were more than that, you had to prove it. you watched him swallow down and then took a bite of your own.

carmy couldn’t help the twitch in his pants when he noticed you suck on the fork a little bit longer than needed as you slid the utensil between your lips. was he imagining things? you finished your food with as much pleasure at the first few bites, never getting tired of the flavors and textures on your tongue. carmy had been watching you, even passing you water when you hadn’t drank it in a while. as he watched you eat, his anxiety was practically washed away and what was left was his stomach coiling in an entirely different way. you dropped your fork after setting it down and swiping it off the table with your sleeve, both of you ducked under to retrieve. you strained your arm to reach the fork and when you came up your forehead grazed the table corner. it wouldn’t have been an issue if not for your wound. almost instantly two things happened, you winced and clutched your forehead and carmy rounded to your side and kneeled in front of you to check your wound.

“lemme see.” his hand covered yours, your eyes shutting in pain as you moved you hand away. carmy sucked in a breath as he saw blood stain the bandage. “i got first aid in my office come with me.” you nodded, he stood up and offered his hand to you. one hand in his, carmy led you to his office. you clutched the damp bandage against your head using your other hand and tried to ignore the throbbing feeling.

carmy sat you down on his desk, shoving away some papers and angling his desk lamp up at your face. the office space was cluttered and small, you felt so close to carmy as he grabbed the first aid from a drawer and set it next to your thigh. in this office your breath was becoming his and his scent was overwhelming you, a mix of spices, cigarettes, sweat, and aftershave that made your head spin further. he removed your bandage, seeing a pill of blood pooling behind it and quickly soaked it up with a cotton pad, he put antiseptic on a q-tip and cleaned up the skin surrounding the wound before reapplying a clean bandage. carmy did his best not to think about how you got such a cut or why it needed stitches. all he could do was focus on fixing what he could. you watched him work, silent besides the puffs of air, his hair was cascading onto his forehead, his arms tense as he cleaned you up. mostly you couldn’t ignore how his jaw ticked and his brows got more furrowed.

“what are you thinking about?” you murmured almost a whisper, not wanting to disturb his peace.

“the fucker who did this.” he seemed satisfied with his handiwork, pulling back a little, hand still on your cheek as he made sure your wound wasn’t still bleeding through the bandage.

“he got it worse.” you pressed a kiss to the palm of the hand that was tilting your chin up. and carmen berzatto almost lost his remaining marbles at the action. without thinking about it, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, careful to not bump his head against yours and you gasped at the feeling. you hadn’t expected him to make a move, fully prepared to do it yourself. his lips were much softer against yours than you expected. the way he moved was careful and sweet but you wanted more. you wound your fingers around his apron tie and tugged it, pulling you closer against him and licking at his lips against you. the action made carmy lose his senses, immediately reacting to you by wedging himself between your legs and pulling you closer by your hips, now filling the small space between you and the edge of the desk. his lips moved much less carefully now, licking into your mouth and memorizing your taste and sounds. the kiss was hot and messy, much more like what you were used to and it made the ache in your head move south. you pulled back for air noticing how he trailed after you pressed kisses to your neck like a seal had been lifted and he could finally do what he wanted. you whined at the feeling, moving back to lift his head to meet your gaze. his eyes looking up at you made your head swim, his glossy lips painting much darker images of similar positions.

“carmy, i need you.” and carmy could hear the banging and yelling in the kitchen behind me, he could smell something burning on a stove. but carmy could also hear your labored breathing combined with his, your swollen lips and your rising chest, and not to mention your intoxicating scent. it wasn’t just your perfume, as he pressed kisses to your neck he couldn’t get enough of you. your taste and your presence was making him want to be selfish, it felt right to stay here with you and it scared him. carmy still would’ve chosen what he did despite the feeling, lifting his apron off and throwing it on the floor nearby.

“fuck it, come here.” he sat down on his office chair, opening his arms for you to climb onto his lap and you took in the sight. muscular legs stretched out in front of him and his tattooed arms beckoning towards him was something you wanted framed. on shaky legs you stood up and straddled his waist, swallowing as you sat down. carmy was watching you with a new determination, looking up as you rested your hands on his shoulders. you were still too far, he needed to feel you fully against him, holding you by the hips and moving you closer, grinding you against his hardening cock in the process. the motion made you stiffen, a small gasp leaving your lips and carmy couldn’t help but lift a hand to your cheek. it was just as soft as he imagined, stroking it with a callused thumb and you pressed your face closer to it. god must have taken his time with you, carmy decided.

unfortunately he had no luxury of time, he was sure richie would come looking for him soon. leaning back in the chair, taking you with him, and clicking the lock of the door. “can i?” he had a finger hooked under your shirt hem. you could feel him, large and throbbing against your core and you nodded furiously as he lifted it off you. you shoved your hands underneath his shirt too, watching him for a nod before you tore it off. carmy seemed to be taking it all in, leaning back again and you weren’t even hiding your ogling. why the fuck did a chef in a deli have abs? you weren’t complaining, not one bit, you could think of a lot of things to do with them. your hands were much less careful than his, not even hesitating as they glided up his taut tanned skin watching his chest rise and fall as your hands returned to his shoulders. he relished in how soft and warm they were, smooth like butter and warming up his skin everywhere they went. carmy was much more patient than you it seemed, you had been practically foaming at the mouth waiting to touch him. but carmy was just in awe.

“you’re driving me crazy.” his voice was gruff and low as he said it, watching you as he undid your bra and slid a rough hand up to your breast. immediately your nipples perked up and carmy licked a long stripe across your right breast, watching your whine as you tilted your head back. his hands felt so rough and large against you, covering you and spreading their warmth. you whined as he bit down, taking his time teasing you. the drag of his teeth against your sensitive buds and his abrasive palm massaging you was grating against your rational thought, your body moving to its own accord as you ground down on him, hips moving desperately. you needed some relief and the hard throb of him against the sensitivity between your legs was enough for now. his free hand found purchase in the dip of your waist and pushed down, halting your movement. he was slightly drunk off your taste and scent so he had to remind himself he couldn’t take his time with you. any minute now the door would be banged on, pulling him back to reality. he unlatched from your skin with a lewd pop and tapped against your hip, unzipping his jeans and you eagerly moved off him. you tugged your own jeans down, eyes not moving from his bulge as it sprung free against his boxers. carmy’s eyes always seemed to be on yours, taking in the emotions there and it felt somehow much more intimate than you standing in front of him topless. he reached towards your hand, pulling you back and out of your thoughts.

“i-i don’t know if it’ll fit.” you’d been thinking it since before when he was biting up your chest, but now with it prodding your clothed clit it felt too big. carmy had to hide his amusement, tried not to think about how all your confidence and eagerness had slipped away.

“do you think you can try? huh?” he brushed a hair back, caressing your cheek and looking at your face for any hesitation. you nodded, lifting up on your knees to push your underwear to the side as carmy sprung himself free. you gasped as his tip pressed up against you, making you clench on air, and looking down didn’t help your growing wetness. he was long and thick, red neglected tip hot and heavy against your skin and you wanted to memorize the veins along the side. the sound of your shallow breath mixed with his, a symphony of anticipation. you wove a hand down, collecting the slick at the tip and coating his length. god he was so long, probably the biggest you’d ever had and you weren’t sure if you could walk out of here on two stable legs.

carmy watched as you swallowed down, eyes on his member and this time he couldn’t hide his smirk. your skin was on fire, it wasn’t like he was any better but he wasn’t unabashedly licking his lips like you had just done. it took all his self control to not just slip up into you when your eyes widened as you looked down. you led him into your entrance, practically dripping onto him and carmy threw his head back. with shaking hands and aching thighs, you slid him against your entrance. he was too thick, his tip catching against your clit as you tried to shove him in. you glared at him like it was somehow his fault and carmy swiped his thumb across your hip in apology. your hands were shaking and your legs ached, but you tried again, tried to relax and pushed him in. instantly the stretch made you gasp, adjusting to the burn between your legs and how fucking stuffed you already felt.

“fuck, so fucking tight.” carmy felt like you were choking him, warm and constrictive. it felt his blood flow was being cut off. you breathed in and out letting yourself get used to the stretch as you lowered down on him, your thighs burning as you concentrated. the ache in your body was pain earlier but now it mixed with the intense pleasure of being beyond filled up. would you ever be able to fuck anyone besides carmen berzatto?

the ache was quelled by the feeling of him twitching inside and you moaned as you nearly bottomed out. carmy watched your eyes flutter closed in concentration, your eyebrows knitted together and your expression wracked by pleasure. his hands were a vice grip around your waist, you’re sure there would be bruises there tomorrow but you didn’t care, you slowly lifted up on him and moved down, his veins dragging against your walls as his tip bumped against the fleshy spot inside you that made you clench on him. if he bottomed out you’re sure you would feel him prod at your heart. you set a slow pace, moving slowly up and down as carmy did his best not to take over. finally when he could tell the burn in your legs was becoming too much he experimentally thrusted up, and your eyes snapped to his face. your pupils were blown out and glazed over in lust and your lips raw from where you’d been biting them to hold back your sounds. carmy wished he could hear them, wished his ears were ringing from how loud you could yell his name, but today wasn’t the day.

so instead he took control, holding your hips in place as he jacked up into you, driving against the spot he knew made you fall slack in his hold. your body twitched and shaked against him, mind going numb as his control slipped and he bottomed out in one sharp thrust. your lip slipped from between your teeth and like you couldn’t help it any more you whined his name. and he didn’t think anyone would fault him for losing the remainder of his sanity.

driving in and out of you with a force that bounced your legs upwards as his tip grazed your cervix, you could feel him everywhere could feel him twitching inside you, his veins, the now slickened hair at the base of his shaft and you could feel yourself pouring down on him, his coated balls slapping against your ass. it was all too much, the way he pressed a kiss to your neck as he dug himself into you, shaping you for him and plugging you so full you couldn’t breathe. he slowed his pace, feeling like he couldn’t hold back much longer and slightly pushed you back, unclasped your hands from around the back of the chair and brought a free hand down between your bodies. his finger found your clit, massaging it as his thrusts became deeper and slower. in this position you felt exposed, your bleary eyes and bruised lips looking down at his blown out pupils and tousled hair. his eyes were always the most expressive part of him, watching you in amazement and pure desire. and then carmy pressed a flat hand against where he was burrowed deep inside, against your stomach and it all became too much, shaking as your orgasm overtook you. you clenched around him, thighs digging into his sides as he continued fucking you through it, his hand massaging your puffy overstimulated clit as you bit down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming his name.

you slumped over him, carmy keeping his hand on your stomach as he reached his own high and pumped you full, throwing his head back and letting you take it. to no surprise his come was slipping down your thighs, already too stuffed full to keep anything in and you groaned at the feeling. the loss and the messiness of it all made you cringe. carmy slipped out of you, moving your underwear so the remainder would stay with you, keep reminding you of him and you tried not to think about the implication. instead you just sat back down, feeling much emptier this time and stared at his fucked out expression. he pressed a kiss to your lips, the meaning now too apparent for you to ignore, it felt like a goodbye kiss. you couldn’t take this much longer, if he didn’t want to see you again you had to leave now.

you moved off on shaky legs, his eyes tracking your movement as you did it, you could still feel his gaze as you turned around to find your clothes. however you didn’t expect him to break the silence, you thought you’d slip away and he’d pretend that it never happened.

“what happened here?” he pressed an outstretched finger to your back, you’d forgotten about the scar there. you probably shouldn’t have shown your back to him, most people you slept with didn’t ask questions like that but you should’ve expected it from him.

“honest answer?” you pulled on your jeans and bra, turning to face him, he’d pulled his boxers up, you masked the disappointment on your face. he nodded slow, a little bit worried what the answer was but still wanting to know all the same, he could guess based on the scar but he wanted to make sure. it was a circular indent, like something had pierced it. he didn’t feel anxious, he just felt this strange anger welling up in him.

“i got shot.” you said it nonchalantly, like it happened to everyone. carmy closed his eyes for a second as if you couldn’t see the flash of emotions on his face and when he opened them he just nodded, doing his best not to freak the fuck out. you were standing in front of him, looking like an angel sent just for him telling him you got shot. he wouldn’t survive you, but then he couldn’t think about just letting you go either.

“the other person?” a smile tugged at your lips, maybe carmen berzatto was different from what you thought.

“got it worse.” he nodded standing and grabbing your shirt from where it had been flung behind him, pulling it over your head as you watched him in amusement. you pushed down the feeling that sprung up from him dressing you, instead focusing on the graze of his fingers on your skin.

“you can ask me more you know?” you could see the questions on the tip of his tongue, his lips pursed like he was physically holding them back. you looped your arms through the shirt as he stood cross armed in front of you. you didn’t have anything to lose so your eyes didn’t leave his tattooed arms, tracing the veins and muscles along them. carmy blushed like a school girl at your actions, like his office didn’t still smell of sex.

“i don’t know if i’ll survive the answers.” he was being honest, his jaw clenched as he ruminated over all the worst case scenarios. his stomach flipping as your eyes found his once again.

“i guess ignorance is bliss,” you didn’t believe that, not really, in your line of work knowing everything possible was the only way to survive.

“you’re safe though right?” carmy realized he was being a little bit ridiculous given the circumstances but you could lie to him, try and convince him that yes you were safe. instead of answering you just looked at him, really looked at him, you tried to memorize the different hues of his eyes and the sharpness of his nose, the marks on his face. the longer you didn’t answer, the longer he felt a cold sweat line his back. he was running out of time, he needed to get back out. “what’s your number?” leaning over he grabbed his phone from his desk, his arm grazing yours. you put it in and handed it back, saving your contact as well.

“just uh tell me you’re okay alright?” it was probably the sweetest anyone’s been to you in a while, earnestly at least, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek nodding and slipping out of his office quietly. carmy did his best to conceal his red face as he got redressed and exited his office, met with yells and questions.

[florrysgf]

Hi! So I was rewatching Scream and it totally made me rerealize how much I love Stu. Those headphones on his neck right before the party scene are also cute... can I request a Stu x reader where they just chill and listen to music?? Doesn't matter what music but if possible can you write with rock music like Journey, Motley Crue, etc etc. Tysm and I love ur writing so much its so cute!! <333

SHARING SONGS! stu macher x gn!reader

A/N: tysm!! i too am obsessed with his headphones. the things i would do to listen to music with him…

WARNINGS: none!

WORD COUNT: 1k +

Your music taste really evolved after you and Stu got together. The two of you were very different in that sense, but that was just one of the things you adored about him. Not too long ago, the dainty, pale blue record player in the corner of your bedroom consisted of less than ten albums. Stu was appalled when he first saw it, and he decided he had to change that.

It was clear that the two of you had completely different taste in music, and that made him curious. He wanted to know more about what you liked and he wanted to let you know what he liked. So, every time Stu came round your house he would bring a record with him. Be it Motley Crue, Nirvana, Journey, or The Cure, he would bring it with him and insist the two of you listen to it together.

And then, of course, you would slip him a couple of your Fleetwood Mac albums in return. He claimed he didn’t like it but you heard him humming the sweet tune to Little Lies when he was walking you home. 

Now the shelf underneath your record player was a beautiful array packed full of both yours and Stu’s favourite albums.

“Nevermind or In Utero?” He asked, scanning his eyes across your shared music collection. He turned to face you whilst you sat cross legged on top of your bed.

You raised your eyebrows at him. As if he could ask such a question, you thought it was a no brainer. “Nevermind.” You told him, watching intently as he took the vinyl out of the sleeve, placing it down and lifting up the needle. Polly began to play throughout your room at medium volume.

He moseyed over to join you on top of your bed, lying on his side and propping his head up with his hand, facing you. He reached out with his free hand, swiping a handful of skittles from the bowl in your lap and popping them his mouth. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ at the boys boldness, and you soon scrunched your face up as he mocked your expression, showing off the mashed up contents inside his mouth.

“You know, Nirvana are criminally underrated. They do not get the recognition they deserve.” Stu nodded, once he’d finished chewing.

“Oh, please,” You playfully rolled your eyes at him, tossing a skittle in his direction and laughing as it bounced off his forehead. “You’re only saying that ‘cause you have a crush on Kurt Cobain!”

“Hey, easy.” Your boyfriend whined, bringing his hand up to his brow. “That’s not true. I just like his hair!”

Sure. You couldn’t help but smile at him. There were countless times Stu came to you with pictures, asking you if you thought he should grow his hair out the same way. You gave him the exact same answer every time. You loved Stu, you did, but you knew if he grew out his hair he’d become the spitting image of Shaggy from Scooby Doo.

The boy gasped as he heard the opening to Smells Like Teen Spirit. Almost immediately, he leaped up off the bed and ran towards the corner of the room, turning the little knob up the full blast. If he had to pick his favourite song off that album, it would have to be this one. Come as You Are would be a close second. Stu loved music. Although they can make a song better, he didn’t really care about lyrics so much. If he likes the instruments then he’ll buy the album.

He stood in the middle of your room, swaying his hips from side to side. He inched closer to you with a playful smirk on his face, holding his hands out for you to join him. You grinned from ear to ear, shaking your head at the boy. But he wouldn’t take no for answer, so instead, he bent down, hooking his arms around your waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

An gasp escaped your lips as he took hold of you, carrying you into the middle of the room and gently plopping you down in front of him. His hand grabbed yours, lifting it up and gracefully spinning your body around. The two of you danced about like utter idiots, singing along to every word.

Once it got to the instrumental part of the song, the tall, blonde boy began to jump around your room, doing his best air guitar. You watched as he played the hell out of the invisible strings in time to the music. The look of pure concentration on his face caused you to burst out laughing. “You’re such a dork.” You beamed at him between breathless giggles. It was true, but he was your dork.

Exhausted, the two of you collapse onto your bed as Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac began to play. You couldn’t help but smile as Christine McVie’s heavenly voice filled your room. You watched as the rising and falling of Stu’s chest slowed down. Once he got his breath back, he snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer towards him. You were probably biased, but in your opinion, Stu was the best at giving cuddles. ‘There’s nothing a good cuddle can’t fix’ he’d always tell you. You snuggled up to him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sweet scent. Your chests meet, and your hearts begin to pace together simultaneously. It was a strange feeling, but one you would never get tired of.

You felt a content sigh emerge from Stu’s lips as your hands found themselves by his head, carefully playing with his hair. You cherished moments like this. When it was just you and him together, it felt like the rest of the world just melted away.

Stu looked down at you, the two of you locking eyes. You looked so beautiful and relaxed in his arms.

The two of you lay together in silence for the rest of the night. Just you, Stu, and your favourite song.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - fourteen | calendar man

You sat at the table and continued to work your way through the music you had been tasked to transcribe over the past few weeks.

“Hey, t/n.” Maddox asked as he walked over. 

You paused the song you were working on and pulled one of your earbuds out. “What’s up?”

“Do you need any help?”

“With this? I thought you couldn’t transcribe music.”

“I mean like, do you need more sheet paper or maybe some nicer headphones?”

You hummed to yourself. “Studio headphones would be nice. I might be missing some notes because of the quality of these earbuds.”

He smiled and nodded. “I’m sure I can find you a spare.”

“Um… also, if you have any of the iso layers of any of these songs, that would be really helpful. Some of the earlier ones have been mixed into oblivion.”

You heard a scoff and you and Maddox looked over at Hongjoong. He was standing at the whiteboard calendar that hung on the wall, looking from his phone to the board as he worked out the recording schedule for the next month.

“Those should be from when the producer I replaced worked here.” He stated flatly.

“Not a fan of his mixing style?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I guess that explains why Wonderland’s style suddenly changed a few years ago.”

Hongjoong looked at you.

You shrugged. “For the better.”

He nodded and turned back to organizing the schedule.

“I’ll look for those headphones.” Maddox said and left the room for, you presumed, a storage room or something.

You went to put the earbuds back in.

“You really want those to come out right.” Hongjoong said without looking up from what he was doing.

You toyed with the earbud for a second. “I mean, of course. I’m being paid to make sure they’re right, aren’t I?”

Hongjoog looked at you for a moment.

You nodded.

“The mixing really is bad in some of the earlier songs, right?”

You smiled. Of course the thing he would talk to you about would be music production. “Yeah. Bed of Roses is kind of a mess, and Poor Young Man is even worse. Which is a pity because, lyrically, they’re good songs.”

He nodded. “Do you have experience mixing?”

“I make mashups and post them online. Sort of… a side thing and lets me play with music since I don’t have a band or anything right now, and I get to work with a lot of different genres and even mash some together. It’s fun.”

He nodded with an expression that you thought, maybe, looked impressed.

Maddox came back in. “Here are the headphones.”

“Oh, thanks.” You took them and plugged them into the music player.

“I’ll look for the masters for songs and put them on a laptop for you.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

He nodded and sat at the desk.

You worked for an hour or so when you felt there was a presence near you.

“T/n.”

You looked up. 

Hongjoong was standing next to the table with his arms folded. 

You took your headphones off. “Am I in trouble?”

“No. I wanted your opinion on a bassline.”

Your eyebrows ticked up. “Oh. Um, yeah.”

You stood and followed him over to the desk where he sat and gestured to you to sit in Maddox’s seat. You sat and rolled closer so you could look at the screen.

Hongjoong played the bassline for you and you listened.

“Hmm…”

“Is it bad?”

“Well…”

“Please be honest.”

“So it’s not… good.”

He stared at you blankly.

“It’s bad.”

“Well,” he sighed. “You have your bass, show me what you would do.”

“Should I take an amp out of the recording booth?”

“You can just go in.”

“Oh… yeah, okay.”

You picked up your bass and walked into the recording booth. You weren’t nervous at all during your audition - maybe it was because you realized you were being tested and you were so annoyed that that feeling overrode everything else - but you were nervous now. Maybe because this was your first time playing for your job? The expectation of having to rise to the occasion? Especially after telling Hongjoong his bassline sucked. But you couldn’t let that affect you.

“Can you play it through the headphones?”

“Yes I can.” Hongjoong pressed a few buttons and navigated with his mouse. “I’m going to start recording, and you can just play whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded as you put the headphones on. You listened to the MIDI loop a few times and turned your pick over in your hand as you did so, eyes closed. You nodded along with the beat until you understood how you wanted to change it and started playing. 

You played what you thought fit well. To you, the other instruments needed to be elevated, and you played a bassline that you felt could do that. You played it over when the loop restarted, altering it subtly for a later part of the song.

The loop stopped. You stopped.

“Wow,” Hongjoong’s voice came over the PA speaker. “That was… lush, fully formed.”

You nodded.

“How long have you been playing bass for?”

“Since I was seventeen? So almost ten years now.” 

He nodded. “No wonder you’re so good.”

You smiled. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“And you’ve only ever played bass?”

“No. I also play guitar and mandolin. I used to play violin and I can play a little piano.”

“You can play violin?”

“Used to. I don’t anymore.”

He nodded, he looked a little disappointed.

“Well, I think for future bass lines I’m just going to have you write them. Even if they get translated into MIDI afterwards.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You build a solid foundation for everything else in a song to rest on.”

You nodded.

“Come back out.”

You unplugged your bass and walked back to the other side of the glass.

“I think I’ll just defer to you on anything involving a bassline. Do you think you can handle it?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I think I can.”

He smiled. “Good, because the first round of recording is going to start soon.” He leaned over to the wall and gestured. “This is the calendar.”

You nodded.

“It has a twin--” He went to the computer, opened the Google Calendar that matched it exactly and added you. “And now you can also see it.”

You nodded.

He looked at you very seriously.

You looked back.

“I am the only one who is allowed to change either calendar, okay?”

You nodded.

“At one point, we let whoever change them, and there was a lot of fighting with people trying to put their recording times at the same time and erasing each other,” he waved a hand around, “it was a mess. If you want to change your schedule at any time, contact me and I’ll make the changes.”

You nodded again.

“I’ll change it, take a picture for posterity, and change the Google Calendar as well. Okay?”

“Gotcha.” You nodded. “You’re the man of the calendar, the Calendar Man.”

“Truly, Batman’s worst villain.” Maddox said.

Hongjoong frowned at him. Maddox smiled.

With a little laugh, you took your phone out and opened the calendar. You couldn’t see the full list of people it had been shared with, but the max amount of icons was displayed; it was probably every recording artist who ever used this studio. 

There was a lull of just a week, and then it was packed. You looked at the names of the people who were supposed to be recording.

“Does everyone have a comeback at once?”

“Some do. A few of the older performers are doing their military service soon, so they need to record now or they won’t have enough time to finish a comeback before leaving. Yoo Haeun and Kim Minjun are overdue for a comeback so they’re actually going to do a joint comeback because the fans wanted it, and some of the soloists have been waiting to make comebacks.”

“I see Choi Jongho is on here a few times?”

“He’s working on his next album.”

You nodded.

“And since he sings ballads which are backed by a band, you’ll be playing bass on all his tracks.”

Your eyebrows shot up. It made sense but you didn’t think it would be so soon.

“Do you think you’re ready?”

You looked up at him. You couldn’t tell if you were being tested again or if he was genuinely concerned. 

“I don’t have much of a choice, no? I accepted the job, so I have to be ready.” You smiled at him.

He smiled, satisfied, and nodded. “Alright.”

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵

luvvvx • iamthehotdemon • 

[mako-neexu]

Can I please hear more about number 2, the Stormborder windowsill?

hello! thank you for the ask! this is about ritsuka celebrating romani's birthday each year and requests time alone from everyone. this is in the perspective of goredolf though and i wanted to try writing him for a while now hehe

-

Goredolf hummed with approval and satisfaction. The cake he baked truly was the highlight of his day, he thought as he walked down the hallways after leaving his dish with the servants in charge of today’s kitchen.

Perhaps, he should do it more often. To bake more desserts and receive praise- Suddenly, there was a chill down his spine.

Oh, Lord-

“I-I won’t actually do it, Toole! Rather, I’d only do it once every two weeks! My technical advisor did put me on a diet and training regimen, so I deserve a little break, right?!” He muttered under his breath. Even to this day, he hasn't forgotten about her teachings…

The man stopped in his tracks as he saw a familiar figure sitting by the window sill of the ship.

It was Fujimaru.

Straightening his back and quietly clearing his throat, he walked forwards in an attempt to seemingly pass by.

Yet, as he grew closer, he couldn’t help but notice how… sad her eyes looked.

“-And then Mandricardo used Durandal to save us.” She played with her cake as she smiled. Yet that smile both held joy and sorrow, an ache that had Goredolf pausing with his breath held.

Who was she talking to, he wondered? While there are many Servants who could use presence concealment… Goredolf felt as if… there was no one there at all.

No one but Ritsuka and a companion only she knows.

“After that, Orion finally put Artemis to rest and we defeated Poseidon with a little help from Jason.” Her fork punctured through the strawberry, bringing it to her lips before settling back down on top of the slice of cake.

She sighed with that same sad smile, “I’ll hold off on what happened next so I don’t talk your ears off.” Her chuckle was quiet and low, yet genuine…the way she expressed herself was simply filled with fondness.

He felt awkward. It was likely that Fujimaru was talking to someone she had lost before the lostbelt ordeal, but it wasn’t clear just who that dear person was.

The girl who smiled so cheerfully and kindly was wavering and melancholy in this empty hallway void of people.

Goredolf had a sudden urge to pat her back and tell her that everything was going to be okay, even as things would get worse the more they moved forward. 

He sighed. Perhaps he should stay in the command room for a bit so she could have some privacy.

But those plans were thrown out the window the moment muted footsteps were heard behind him.

He turned to see who they were and found Mash Kyrielight waving. “Hello, Director.”

The blond man brought a finger to his lips and gestured to the Master laughing quietly to herself and in front of the untouched cake before her.

“Oh.” The demi servant says, her eyes drooping down as well, “It’s that time of the year again.”

“What?” He asked, his heart pounding in concern and anxiety, “What time?”

“Well, it’s-” She looked to the side and bit her lip. 

And Goredolf didn’t miss the way Mash’s eyes seemed to shine so suddenly. 

She swallowed and gripped the sleeve of her jacket, “It’s Dr. Roman’s birthday.”

[padfootastic]

summary: from euphemia to james to sirius to harry to lily luna—traditions passed down through the generations of potters. love in the form of feeding your people, aloo paranthas as a labor of love etc etc

a labor of love

(also on ao3!)

August, 1970

“Jamie, breakfast’s ready!”

Loud steps thundered around the house as her ten year old raced down the stairs. Euphemia didn’t even bother to reprimand him at this point—she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she made sure the safety charms on the staircase were always updated.

“HiMumGoodMorningWhatsForBreakfast,” James’ words came out in one single whoosh of air and it was only because this was her child that she had extensive experience with that she could decode what he was saying.

She smiled gently while placing the plate in front of him. “Aloo parantha, honey.”

“Yesss,” James hissed in pleasure, a quick fist pumped in the air, before bending forward with his nose mere millimetres away from the paranthas.

Euphemia swapped the back of his head with a ‘tsk’. “James. How many times have I told you not to smell your food? You’re not a dog.”

“Ma, you don’t get it, okay. It smells so good,” he replied with a goofy, cross-eyed expression. “Seriously, whenever I go to heaven, I just know it’ll smell like fried potato and ghee and coriander. Life can’t get any better than this.”

Euphemia could only smile at the innocent look of wonder on her son’s face as he tore a piece off to stuff it in his mouth, hoping it always stayed there. If she had to keep making him aloo paranthas every morning to keep it there, she’d happily do so. 

August, 1976

Sirius huddled closer into the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to count his breaths so he didn’t go so fast anymore.

It was some ungodly time of the day and he was sitting on the floor, pressed right up against the corner of the living room of Potter Manor, having a minor—really, not a big deal at all—panic attack about…well, everything.

It hadn’t been two days since he’d run away from Grimmauld Place and already the hopelessness was settling into his bones. He couldn’t stop replaying the words and curses and taunts and Reg’s face and—

“Sirius?” A drowsy voice cut through his spiral. He shouldn’t be surprised.

James always had a way of doing that.

“H-Hi, Jamie,” he replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears he could feel pooling there. It wouldn’t work, he knew that, James always, always knew but he still had to try.

Sure enough, a pair of sock clad feet (adorned in little animated snitches) stopped right in front of him. His gaze traveled slowly, reluctantly, up to see James looking at him with a complicated look on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and frustration and resignation. Sirius hated that he put it there. James wasn’t made for expressions like that—he should always be happy, smiling, and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Before he could do anything, though (not that there was much in his control), a hand entered his vision, palm up in invitation. Without even thinking twice about it—he would always choose James—he let himself be pulled up and straight into strong arms that were the only thing keeping him whole and grounded so far.

The hug ended in less time than it took for him to draw a full, shaky, breath. The abruptness of it left him reeling. 

“Come on,” James said, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. Sirius followed, confused, letting himself be manhandled into the kitchen stool and watched James take something out of the cooking cabinet.

“Boiled potatoes,” he explained, already moving on to the spice rack. “Mum always keeps some ready to go.”

With quick, practiced movements, James had them peeled and mashed. Another sealed container was retrieved—‘Dough. For the rotis’—and a flat top griddle was placed on the stove.

Sirius watched the whole thing in a daze, unable to identify a single thing but being comforted all the same. It felt almost like a ritual; the rhythmic movements of James’ hands as he rolled the dough into balls, and stuffed them with the potatoes. Watching him smooth it out into a round, flat shape. 

“I didn’t know you were so proficient in the kitchen, Prongs,” Sirius finally said as the kitchen warmed up from his best mate’s ministrations, the smell of ghee-fried dough and spiced potatoes permeating the air.

“I’m not, really,” James shrugged. “But aloo paranthas are—they’re different, you know? Everyone should know how to make them.“

“I’ve never even tried them.”

“Well, then, everyone should have them at least once in their lives,” James said, firmly.

He placed a plate full of warm, steaming—aloo paranthas in front of Sirius and without even knowing what they really were, he could feel the rest of the tension seeping out of him. It’s a temporary relief, to be sure, but that it happened at all is enough to both awe and excite him.

He looked up at James with wide eyes, only to receive a knowing smile in return.

“Have a bite, Pads,” James pushed the plate closer. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

And he didn’t.

As he sat there and entirely demolished four of the wonderful paranthas—after days of not feeling the slightest pang of hunger—Sirius was helpless against the warmth that suffused his entire being, not just from the heat of the potatoes, but from the boy in front of him who’d decided to take a chance on him. Decided to welcome him not just in his arms but his house, his family. 

August, 1995

“Sirius, why are we here?” Harry asked, confused. A minute ago, they were in the garden, talking about something or the other, and then suddenly his godfather had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen.

“Because you, my dear Prongslet, have been severely, unforgivably wronged and it’s time to start rectifying that,” Sirius proclaimed, which really didn’t help.

“…huh?”

“You just told me you’ve never had anything but bland, boring British food. Ever.” Sirius stressed the last word, making a point Harry wasn’t quite sure of.

“Yes…because the Dursleys are raging racists and Hogwarts isn’t too creative with its culinary choices,” Harry slowly said, feeling eerily like he was defending himself for…not being able to have a diverse palette?

“Exactly. If James had a grave, he’d be rolling around in it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Look, I was supposed to do this for you since the day you were old enough to eat solids. That I didn’t…well. Let’s not go there right now. But now that I do have the chance, it’s practically first on the list of my godfatherly duties—“

“What is, Sirius?” Harry asked, slightly exasperated. The man was making no sense.

“Making aloo paranthas, Harry! Come on, keep up, it’s bad enough you’ve gone this far without—any longer and I swear, James will find a way to come back to wring my neck and tie you to a chair just so he could force feed you,” Sirius finished, a slightly haunted look in his eyes like he was speaking from experience.

Harry blinked. What—?

“Now, luckily for us, the boiled potatoes are already done. You’ve got me to thank for that bit of foresight, of course, never go without since fifth year—“

“Why?”

“—because they’re so versatile—“

“Right, of course, how silly of me.”

“Yes. So, now you’ve gotta peel and mash it, and none of that ricer or fork nonsense, either, okay? You’ve gotta really get in there with your hands.” Sirius demonstrated by taking one slightly cold potato from the bowl, expertly peeling and crushing it between his fingers. He kept going until it was almost smooth, with just the smallest hint of texture. Once done, he turned expectantly towards Harry, eyebrow raised and ‘go on’ written all over his face.

Still slightly bemused, Harry stepped forward and gingerly took a potato of his own. Trying to peel it was—not as easy as he thought and everything else faded away as he concentrated on making sure no brown bits remained. It was a surprisingly soothing task. When he had his first potato peeled and mashed, he turned to Sirius proudly.

“There. What next?”

Sirius nodded in approval. “Now, we do the rest of it.”

And standing there shoulder to shoulder, the two of them managed to get through a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes, interspersed with Sirius’ stories of the Potters, a rare, greedy pleasure for Harry.

“Your grandmum, Euphemia, she’d make this for breakfast every so often. It was James’ favorite and she could never resist his great, big eyes—you get that from him, by the way. Not many people could, mind, but it was particularly effective when he wanted to scam some paranthas out of her.”

and “Your dad wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but this was one thing he was absolutely adamant he learn. Spent hours with Effie and Rani perfecting it, as well.”

Once the potatoes were done, Sirius directed him to the spice cabinet. “Now, this is the most important bit, Harry. Everyone makes their aloo paranthas in their own way. You can have different people following the same recipe and all of their final results would still taste different.”

Harry nodded in understanding. It was a bit like Aunt Petunia’s prized Roast Dinner—she always claimed no one else could make it the way she could, not even letting Harry close to the preparation of it. 

“The first time I had this was in fifth year—similar to you, come to think of it—and I’ve experimented after, right? It was so good I had to. I went to many, many places in muggle London—roadside stalls to fine dining, you name it—and not once have I felt the same as when your dad made it with his eyes still half closed and the paranthas a little burnt on the edges and a bit undercooked in the middle. There’s no competition. So. It’s all in the spice, yes?”

Sirius handed him the container of carom seeds. “That being said, the most important bit?”

Harry leaned forward, eager, all hesitation forgotten in the face of a piece of his culture, his family being passed down to him like this.

“You’ve got to—“

August, 2017

“—measure with your heart, okay, Lils?”

Little Lily Luna Potter, only nine but adopting an air of maturity of someone much older, nodded solemnly, taking her dad’s word as gospel.

“This isn’t just food—this is you telling someone you love them. It’s a warm hug. Feeding someone, taking care of them, is no small job. So, forget all this measurements nonsense and just get in there,” Harry finished, nostalgia coating his words as he quoted his own godfather word for word.

“Get in there, Daddy!” Lily-Lu repeated empathetically.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, using one hand to ruffle the riotous mane of red curls piled on top of her head. “The next thing to go in is the powdered spices. Which ones are those, again?”

Lily-Lu squinted thoughtfully. “Coriander powder, red chili powder, tyoo-mer-ic, and cumin powder. That’s all of it, right, Daddy?”

Harry smiled at her serious countenance. “There’s just one more you’re missing.”

She frowned, biting her lip and mumbling under breath. “One more? Coriander…chili…cumin…and—and—garam masala! It’s garam masala, isn’t it?” The last few words were said in an excited shout, almost loud enough to startle him but he could only lean forward and place a quick kiss on her forehead in approval.

“Sure is, sweetheart. You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”

“I’m smart, Daddy, you and Mummy say so,” Lily-Lu returned, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her little frame

“That’s because you are; the smartest of us all, isn’t it?” Harry teased, while carefully mixing the spices with the potatoes. This one he’d do himself—Lily-Lu’s hands weren’t the steadiest yet.

“Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “The salt! You forgot the salt, Daddy.”

Harry blinked in surprise, looking down at his array of ingredients and realised he had.

“Huh. So I have, it seems. Would you like to do the honours, Lulu?” He extended the container towards her, smiling once again at how she was practically vibrating in excitement.

Harry was—not just glad but utterly ecstatic that he could do this, had the opportunity and ability for it. And he had no one but Sirius to thank for it.

Taking care of me even from the afterlife, aren’t you, Siri? he thinks with a silent offering of gratitude to the universe. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for it, for everything. 

“And now, the absolute final step?”

“The chopped coriander!” Lily-Lu chirped, already reaching forward to clasp a handful of coriander he’d prepared beforehand. She sprinkled it all over their mixture with a high, bright giggle and Harry could’ve spent an eternity in that moment, with his child beside him and the weight of his family behind him.

[shystrawberries]

October 7th, Glitter Glue

It wasn't the first time Star had found Sundrop with pink and green glitter stuck in the crevices of his hands and spread across his arms. He had once claimed that he couldn't say no to the children, but now she was sure he encouraged them entirely. It wouldn't be the last time either.

She sighed as she sat beside him. He could clean himself up by himself this time. She took pity on him that last couple of times, but Star was pretty sure he didn’t really care one way or another if she did or didn’t assist him.

The only difference now was instead of mashing glue senselessly against plastic teeth, he could open his mouth and guzzle glue properly. 

They had all gotten updates, one by one. The most notable being how expressive they were. Star could open her mouth wider and stick out a new tongue at someone in annoyance if she wanted. Her optics now had expressive eyelids. The same was applied to the others. Eclipse’s glares had only increased in accuracy rather than rely on vibes only. She had accidently found him making goofy faces at a crying child until the child had calmed down, one day. It made her wonder if that was his purpose, or if he even had one. Maybe he simply existed as he pleased? Star found herself a tiny bit jealous of that.

Sunny waggled his eyebrows at her. She sent him an unimpressed look. Sundrop of all of them loved the new upgrades the best.

She was glad.

But… at the same time… Star never wanted this for them. Clearly her feelings were unimportant in the matter, and obviously she wasn’t going to mention it. She didn’t want to ruin Sun’s fun. She didn’t really know how Moondrop felt about it, but he didn’t appear to have any negative feelings about it. 

Granted, he still ran away from her whenever he could. One couldn’t measure the depth of another’s feelings if they hardly interacted.

“I think you really ought to try some.” Sun giggled as he held out to the toxic-for-humans substance. As he expected, she shook her head and looked out over the daycare.

Though it was a Wednesday, and they usually had ten or more kids right about now, the daycare was empty. 

It was odd, to feel that she missed the very creatures she despised only two years prior. Weird to think that it was roughly a year and a half ago that Sundrop declared her his “bestest best friend”. 

Sometimes, as she drifted off into a sort of sleep-like state while she charged, that audio replayed in her head before moving on to process the day.

She side-eyed Sun. He had a sort of stomach installed, like Chica did, so that he could get away with eating random things. The only mechanic left on site would have to empty it. As time progressed, less and less workers showed up at the pizza plex. Star knew for a fact that Joanna would have to be the one, and frankly, Star didn’t trust her a bit.

She took the blue glitter glue, popped off the cap, and dumped it down into her mouth. Unlike Sun, she had no throat nor stomach, as she loathed messes. She wouldn’t be allowed to accompany Sun down to Parts ‘n Service otherwise, however.

Sun balked. “Star!”

She capped the glitter glue and grinned at him. Glue dribbled down her lip. “What? I thought you wanted to share.” 

“I mean I do, but Star, that’s true, but, but-!”

She bumped her shoulder against his and laughed. “This just means we’ll have to go to Parts ‘n Service together, is all. Don’t worry so much.”

He frowned at her. “This is because of that mechanic, isn’t it?”

“What? Nooo.” She looked away. “How’d you know?”

He huffed. “You underestimate my ability to read your tells, silly Star.”

“Oh.”

He leaned his head against hers, rays retracting so she wasn’t stabbed. She couldn’t retract her own, unfortunately, but for the most part they were angled away from where their faceplates aligned. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. It’s just my super duper special secret ability.”

She chuckled. “Oh, yes, very secret.”

“Indeed!”

She fiddled with the glitter glue bottle, and swiped a bit of glue off its surface with her thumb. Glitter gleamed up at her. “I’m just not very… fond of her, is all.” She admitted. 

“Well, you don’t have to like everyone.” He hummed. “Wouldn’t be realistic to assume you could.”

“Shouldn’t I be able to, though? I mean… I dunno.”

“What?”

“The first time we met, she seemed really nice at first.” Sometimes Star wondered if she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t her face that Joanna wanted to change originally. Why was she so insulted? Was it wrong to be so offended on the behalf of her friends when she couldn’t even bring up the topic for fear that it would hurt their feelings?

“Star…”

“What?”

“It’s really okay to not like someone. It doesn’t mean they’re of less value or that you’re mean. It just means you don’t jive.”

“Jive?” She snorted. “Just where did you learn that?”

“Mikaela taught me!”

She enjoyed this. She let her head fall on his shoulder. “If your hands are clean, can you braid my hair?”

“You’d have to move first, silly Star.”

She hummed. “I don't wanna.”

“Weeell I don’t know that I can braid your hair just yet, then. I got glue up and down my arms and hands!”

She sprung off him and hurriedly swiped at her side and sweater. She did not want to deal with getting glitter glue off her white sweater. Not again. 

Sundrop chuckled as he stood. “Let’s go, let’s go. We really ought to go to Parts n’ Service first, and then I can braid your hair!”

Star went back to her closet that night without gunk clogging the inside of her mouth and mechanisms, and cute twintail braids hanging over her shoulders.

[majorbaby]

Re: Your Retention Please MASH writers I am once again asking, have you even met Maxwell Q. Klinger?

Honestly, I think it’s a fair question because we see Klinger take on a lot of things that are cast off by other characters (gay banter with Hawkeye post-s3, being the dog one pets once Radar is gone, occasionally the buttmonkeyism that I enjoyed when it was Frank on the receiving end) or he’s molded to fit whatever agenda the show needs because while Klinger the character isn’t expendable, his characterization certainly is. This is how you end up with all of these late-seasons Klinger subplots and traits that either completely contradict everything we know about him or tbh, outright play into racial stereotypes. Like when he’s all of sudden really into  money-making schemes, or the weird friendship he strikes up with his exploitative boss, or when he takes a lot of racist, classist abuse from other characters (usually from Charles and sometimes Potter, but everyone gets a turn) lying down. This is the man who got into a fist-fight with Frank and then afterwards came back with a grenade to blow him up after Frank told him he couldn’t wear his lucky scarf. 

This disregard for his character is how you start off with Klinger in a dress*, gun-toting, back-talking, practically fire-breathing (and hella risk-taking, considering he is a Corporal) all over Majors Burns and Houlihan in the early years and end up at Your Retention Please. 

*I’ve read that Klinger stopped wearing dresses at Jamie Farr’s request which, while I respect his reasoning for that, I still feel we the audience and Klinger the character deserved a mourning period and a damn good, in-universe reason for him to have suddenly flipped like that especially after we saw the effect wearing the uniform has on him in Change of Command. 

Though he may not have the emotional weight that comes with being a drafted doctor forced to fix people up just to send them out to get hurt worse or possibly die, his belief in the utter uselessness of the army is indistinguishable from Hawkeye and Trapper’s (BJ too, but by the time he’s settled in, the army is in the crosshairs less and less and the Klinger character starts to waver) and anyway he’s affected by having been drafted in his own personal and no less tragic way. 

I’m on board with the way the recruiter goes after Klinger. First off, he goes after everyone. Secondly, it’s a common recruiting tactic, to this day, to go after the disenfranchised, the destitute and the desperate, particularly when those traits intersect with race. So there’s some realism in how hard the recruiter goes after Klinger - however, while I know that, these writers likely do not. There’s no race awareness going on. Par for the course. 

And let’s talk about that scene  with the recruiter for a moment: the slow music that sounds to me just the slightest bit sleazy. The way the recruiter doesn’t just offer a drink, he takes the empty glass from Klinger and places a full one in his hand and then he puts his arm around Klinger and leads him to sit down. The repeated closeups: the recruiter’s smile showing off his yellowed or missing teeth (nothing wrong with having imperfect teeth and idk if it was intentional, but it’s a common physical trait for a villain) and Klinger’s clearly zonked out expression. Klinger says, “You’re right... who are you.” and the recruiter responds again by being overly familiar, saying they’re buddies and that the army is his friend and family. Like if nothing else, I’ll give them this - there were numerous ways for us to read that this guy is a predator. It was appropriately unsettling, but my praise ends there. 

Maybe I could buy that Klinger might drunkenly agree to sign up Nope. I started typing it out and I got midway before I decided I would finish and then cross it out for dramatic effect. 

The writers forgot who main-cast member Klinger is yet I’m supposed to remember who Laverne is and believe that Klinger is so broken up about her leaving him after she’s already left him (3 seasons ago! hello???) that he decides to do something as drastic as signing up for the army, whether he’s drunk as a skunk or stone cold sober? I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it anymore than I would if it were Hawkeye in that position, but they figured it was easy enough to do such a thing to Klinger. I think he (Klinger) gets this plot because it can’t be given to Hawkeye, BJ or Charles, which is funny because one of those three flew off the handle when his wife got a job, so if there’s anyone I could see doing something very drastic (though, tbf, even then not as drastic as re-enlisting) if his wife were to leave him, it’s not Klinger.

Klinger wants to go home but he’s not overly specific about why. He doesn’t have the same attachment to Laverne as BJ does to Peg - he’s not cheating on Laverne but he says about as much about her as Trapper does about Louise. In addition to wanting to be home, I think Klinger, like Hawkeye, is philosophically opposed to war.

He has that very touching scene in War of Nerves where he’s actually given space to tell us why he doesn’t want to be in the army - and it’s way more essential than just ‘I want to go home’ - he does want to go home, but he also doesn’t want to be given orders to do something that would violate his beliefs and he works tirelessly to try to avoid that fate.  

In his dresses for 7 years, he’s a walking a protest, or as Sidney aptly puts it, “a monument to hope in size 12 pumps”. He does not believe in the mission of the army, opposes its authority over him and how powerless it renders him as people die around him - who does that remind you of? If you had to call any other character “a monument to hope”?

The other characters on the show are to different degrees opposed to war, with the exception of Frank but consider their reasoning - Margaret and Potter find the army fulfilling but are morally opposed to war, Charles is opposed to his life having been interrupted by the draft, BJ shows a great deal of compassion towards the wounded but his resentment towards the army also comes from how he’s been taken from his family (not a dig at BJ, completely valid for him to feel that way, it’s just different from what Hawkeye feels) and finally Hawkeye is opposed to the army I suspect long before he’s drafted and remains that way long after he goes home. 

Getting back to Your Retention Please, I have to pass on setting up Potter and Hawkeye to “rescue” Klinger from his bad decision. Hawkeye I’ll let slide - I have my reservations about the white saviour-y undertones but I’m more fine with Hawkeye being the (white) saviour here than I am with Potter, the regular army guy, getting to be the hero and undermining the anti-military message. 

And finally, i can’t accept this at all because we already have an in-character example of Klinger’s reaction to Laverne actually leaving him in Mail Call 3 - he deserts. He returns, blessedly not because he wants to ‘do the right thing’, but rather because he doesn’t want to be a fugitive. The icing on the cake is him declaring that when he does leave the army it’ll be the honourable way, via Section 8 - that’s Klinger!

Have you ever been upset that Larry Gelbart trolling-ly suggested that Hawkeye would become a right winger post-war? That’s how I feel about this episode and the difference is it actually happened, they really did that to Klinger. He deserved better. 

[12romy]

trick or treat!! (can i request chewis?X))

Hiiiii, you absolutely can dearie!! I'm giving you some chewis from the fic I'm working on... Spoiler ahead if you don't want to be know what this fic is about, don't read 😘

He couldn’t say who looked happier when he arrived in Lewis’ suite. Mira, or Lewis. It was nice, to have Lewis smiling at him once again. He was pulled into a side hug as a hello and resisted the urge to curry his nose against Lewis’ hair, and drop a kiss there.

“You’re right on time, I just finished to prepare her mash,” Lewis explained. “It’s broccoli tonight, you’re lucky because she loves it.”

“Berk, eww” Charles let out, crinkling his nose in disgust. “How can she like broccoli? Is she really my daughter? What have you been teaching her?”

“I forgot you hated it,” Lewis laughed, throwing his head back. “Don’t worry, I was planning on ordering room service for us. No broccoli, I promise…”

Lewis gave him Mira as soon as Charles had taken off his shoes, and took the lead to get to the kitchen. Charles put Mira in the baby chair, then sat down next to her, tying the bib around her neck. It was a good idea to keep the bath for after dinner.

Mira was, probably like every baby her age, awfully messy. It seemed to amuse Lewis to no end, to see how the food ended up more on the bib than in Mira’s mouth – and sometimes, even on Charles. He had been stupid to wear a white tee.

All in all, the evening was full of laughter. It continued as they gave her a bath, both ending up completely drenched despite sitting next to the bathtub.

“Take off your shirt, I’ll get us some change,” Lewis chuckled as Charles was wrapping Mira in a fluffy blanket.

He did, then finished to dry Mira before putting her in a new diaper, then a cute pyjama – a gift from Seb, all in organic cotton, natural yellow dye, and hand-made stitched bee designs. Mira was an absolute delight, laughing all the time. She was a great audience to Charles’ antic, who did all he could to make her happy. She always giggled when he was peppering kisses on her little belly.

“There, all ready to sleep,” he smiled, taking her back in his arms, and she yawn as if to approve.

He turned, and found Lewis leaning against the wall, watching them with the softest expression. He smiled back, blushing, and his body almost felt on autopilot as he stepped closer, and kissed him.

[skylarmoon71]

Harry Wells (Flash) - Earth 2 - Chapter 12

It’s hard watching someone you care about slowly forget who you are.

Harry knew that it was selfish to lie that day. But the truth was just too hard to swallow.

The conversation with the team still ran through his mind.

~Three Weeks Ago~

“You have to tell her!” Barry ordered.

When Barry woke up, he was less than pleased. They were elated when you sent a smile. But the way you were acting, it was clear you didn’t know the situation. They’d insisted that you rest. The second they’d regrouped in the cortex, Barry basically ripped into Harry.

“What good will that do, it won’t bring her memories back.”

“It doesn't matter! I’m not going to spend the last days we have with her lying to her face!! I’m going to tell her!” Barry moved to walk past, but Harry grabbed his arm, halting him.

“She has a chance to live these last days with us without feeling guilty for making that decision.” Barry’s body tensed, and the room fell quiet. Caitlin wasn’t sure what to say.

Cisco and Iris just wore expressions of regret.

“You remember how hard it was for her, living those years thinking that you hated her. Think about how much this would hurt her if she knew that removing the most horrible thing in her life took away the best thing she’s ever had. All of you.”

Barry didn’t want to admit it, but Harry was right. More than anything, he never wanted to see that look ever again. After the both of you had finally mended that bridge, he promised he’d never be the one to break it again. He would do whatever was necessary to give you the happy ending you deserved.

Harry released Barry’s hand. It dropped to his side.

“If she’s going to forget about us, then I’d rather it be at our expense, not hers.” Harry rationalized.

That’s the argument that he presented. He wanted you to be free from that burden.

So they laid out a plan. They would all take turns visiting you in Portland. Everyday, someone would spend some time with you and keep an update of your condition.

At first it was easy.

Barry wanted to be the first. Every Monday he scheduled dinner.

Each time it was just so amazing. There was a light in your eyes that he swore he’d never seen since that day. The first couple times seem to run over like a breeze.

That one afternoon when he showed up with Iris, you were elated. You wouldn’t stop rambling about the steady ease of your job and your hilarious colleagues.

It was great.

But then it just seemed to come out of nowhere…

“W-Who the hell are you people!! What are you doing in my house?!”

There was fear and confusion on your face as you held out a metal spoon, the same one you’d left to grab to serve them the mashed potato.

“(Y/N), it’s us. Barry and Iris.”

He pointed between the both of them, no longer seated. Just standing at a distance. He couldn’t forget it, that look.

Like they were strangers.

Like he was a stranger.

“You both have three seconds to get out of my house before I call the cops!!” You were waving the spoon around threateningly, and Iris sent Barry a look. He wanted to stay there, plead for you to remember, but she shook her head. Because the longer he stood there, the more frightened you looked.

“Okay, we’re leaving.”

He took Iris’s hand, and they both exited the house. The door slammed behind them, and he heard the click of the lock.

It felt almost poetic.

You weren’t just locking them out of your house, but also your life.

When Cisco visited on Tuesday, he prepared for the worst.

“Cisco! It’s about time. I was about to eat all this licorice on my own. Come in.”

Of course he hesitated.

Yet, it was nice. To see you wear such a warm expression as you vented about a rebel student in your class.

“Could you believe he said that I was a bad professor. Oh how I wish he were a criminal.”

Cisco laughed.

“I don’t think you would get away with attacking him, even if you are an ex cop.”

You raise a brow.

“An ex-cop? Cisco, what are you talking about? That’s funny. Me, a cop. I can’t even picture it.”

You continued on as if nothing happened, too invested in your rantings to see the color drain from his face.

That afternoon when he got back to Star Labs, he panicked.

“Something is wrong! You said she would only forget the memories she had with us, the ones about Thawne and the speedforce, all of it. But she was a cop way before she joined our team. Caitlin she doesn't remember being a cop!!”

He was hysterical, for good reason.

“I…That doesn’t make sense.”

The entire analysis was wrong and there was nothing they could do about it.

Caitlin made a point to carry out her visit with you coming to Star labs.

“Who are all those people outside Caitlin?”

Barry, Cisco and Iris were peering in and you gave an awkward wave.

“They’re..” Caitlin stopped, sending Harry a look.

“Just my coworkers.”

It was like swallowing an uncomfortably large pill.

Harry did his best to stick to the task at hand as Caitlin strapped on all the many patches to your body.

The rhythm of your heart was steady.

“Are you alright, any discomfort?” Harry asked.

You shook your head.

“Nope. I’m fine. Thanks again for doing this. I know it must be tedious. You even got your friend to help out. I’m sorry but what did you say your name was?” Your eyes were trained on Caitlin, and she stopped all action. You wore a friendly smile and Caitlin did her best not to show the expression of hurt that rushed through her body. She finally understood how terrible it felt. She always prepared herself when she saw her friends walk in one by one with sullen eyes. But now, experiencing it, feeling that tightness in her chest as someone who was once so close had no idea who she was.

It hurt.

“You’re welcome.”

She barely managed to force out the words, continuing with the procedure.

In the span of two months, years of memories, smiles, love, friendship, it was all gone.

This was the new reality.

A very harsh one.  

[stabbyfoxandrew]

After another excruciatingly long and dull night practice, Andrew drives Neil and Kevin back to the dorms, as always. As he slips into his parking spot and turns the key, the two strikers start to argue about something. Neil turns around in his seat to better argue his point. Andrew gives them a moment to realize they’ve parked, but neither seems to notice. Andrew gets out of the car and into the chilly night air.

 As he steps into the building, he hides a yawn with his hand and heads for the elevator. Kevin and Neil come into the lobby behind him. Andrew steps onto the elevator and mashes the button for their floor, just to be a shit. Neil realizes the elevator’s leaving without them and makes a pouty face. Andrew just waves through the quickly narrowing space between the doors. He almost laughs at the look Kevin gives him.

 He wonders whether they’ll wait for the elevator to return or take the stairs. Andrew has heard Kevin bitch about how stairs are healthier two hundred times. He rolls his eyes, they’re probably both racing up them now.

 When Andrew strolls over to their door and pushes it open, he finds something he hadn’t really expected. But, given Nicky’s affinity for doing stupid and pointless things, he should not be surprised to find his cousin putting the finishing touches on an absolutely gaudy Christmas tree. Andrew muses for a moment about how his cousin could have possibly been able to sneak it in without anyone noticing. Then he slams the door to get Nicky’s attention.

 His cousin turns to face him with a smile. Andrew glares at the sparkly monstrosity where it’s tucked into the corner of the room, then turns the look on Nicky, who beams like he hung the moon and stars.

 “What the fuck is that?” Andrew asks. Nicky’s expression falls, but he picks it up and replaces it with a similar one.

 “It’s a Christmas tree. I know you’ve seen one before.” He says, turning to adjust an unruly piece of tinsel. Andrew rolls his eyes and drops his bag on the ground. Nicky continues, “It’s a surprise. That you just ruined.”

 “It’s stupid.” Andrew says, eyeing the tree. It’s got at least a foot on him, to Andrew’s supreme annoyance. Couldn’t he have gotten one of those tiny ones? Andrew hears the drone of some old Christmas song playing on the radio and he’d like to dropkick it. But, rather than damage his radio or his cousin, he decides to go have a smoke. God knows he needs it.

 “Where are Neil and Kevin?” Nicky asks when they don’t come in behind him. Stairs, definitely.

 Andrew shrugs, “Elevator left without them.”

 “You left them in the lobby?” Nicky asks, faux-shocked.

 “They were talking about stickball. And they had used up their allotted time for said subject.” Andrew explains.

 “Oh! I know! Go outside and wait for them and you can all come in and be surprised.” Nicky says, yanking the door open. Andrew stares at him. Is he serious? Unfortunately, Andrew knows he is. Nicky huffs. “If you help me surprise them, I’ll bake you cookies.”

 Ah, a bribe.

 Andrew considers it. Then he hears voices echoing up the stairwell. God, they’re still talking about… Andrew pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe the tree will get them to shut up. “Triple chocolate,” he says to Nicky.

 “Yes, fine. Whatever! Go out and come back in!” Nicky says, shooing Andrew out without touching him. Maybe he’s smarter than he looks. Andrew closes the door and goes to make like he’s just gotten off the elevator. The two strikers step onto the landing and Neil blinks when he sees Andrew.

 “Are we faster than the elevator?” Kevin asks, in disbelief.

 “Maybe on a regular day. After practicing like that, I doubt it.” Neil says. Andrew just shrugs and moves to put his hand on the doorknob. He twists it and pushes the door open. The lights are off now, which is typical when they come back from night practices. Andrew steps inside and Neil is right behind him.

 Just as Andrew’s fingertips graze the light switch, there’s a flash in the corner and the string lights on the Christmas tree cast a ray of color over the dark room. Some of them are colored, some plain white, some twinkling, some not. It’s almost blinding. Andrew blinks and the dots flash behind his eyelids.

 Neil gasps. Then Nicky pops up from behind the tree, “Surprise!”

 Andrew feels Neil tense beside him. Then watches Neil look from Nicky to the tree, and the tension melts out of his frame. Kevin, poor Kevin, is still in the dark. Well, he’s out in the hallway anyway.

 “What surprise?” He asks, straining to look around the door. Andrew doesn’t move.

 “Let them in, Andrew,” Nicky demands.

 Andrew begrudgingly moves to the side, allowing the other in to get a good look at the tree. Kevin lets out a puff of air. “I’m glad I’m not epileptic.”

 “Shut up!” Nicky whines. “It took me two hours and I’m exhausted and cranky.”

 “No one asked you to—”

 “I know no one asked me to!” It comes out so quickly it sounds like one word. “Just tell me it’s pretty so I can go to sleep.”

 “It’s pretty.” Andrew says, paying the toll. He doesn’t mean it. It looks like a hyper four year old was in charge of decorating it. There are far too many sets of lights all crisscrossing around it. The tinsel is shimmering, the branches drooping with the excessive amount of ornaments Nicky has burdened them with. The top is severely lacking, with no topper.

 Andrew looks to Neil to gauge his opinion of the beast taking up a quarter of the living room. Neil looks confused— that’s his natural state, Andrew thinks. But the glow of the too-many lights on his face makes him look ethereal. His scars stand out against his pale, freckled skin and his pale blue eyes take on the colors of the twinkle lights dancing across his features. Andrew blinks.

 “It’s pretty.” Andrew repeats. This time he means it a little. Though, not about the tree.

 “Thank you,” Nicky says, bowing slightly before he dusts his hands off on his shirt. “I’m going to bed now.”

 Andrew will of course remind his cousin of his cookie bribe tomorrow. But for now, he allows Nicky to wander off towards the bedroom.

 “Huh, it’s just like the movies.” Neil says softly. Nicky pauses in his step and everyone turns to look at Neil. Andrew watches Neil’s eyes flit from the lights to the ornaments to the bit of orange fabric under the tree. “I like it.”

 “Yes! I knew you would.” Nicky beams. The overhead lights of the kitchen flood the room with a yellow glow. Kevin stands by the switch.

 “I mean, it’s nice, but it’s not necessar—” Kevin cuts off with an ‘oof’ when Andrew’s elbow collides with his stomach.

 “I know it’s not      necessary    . But it’s pretty. And,” Nicky swallows deeply, looking between Andrew and Neil. “And we’re having a good Christmas this year if I have to kill somebody.”

 At this, Neil snorts a laugh. “I didn’t think you were the murdering type, Nicky.”

 Nicky gives him a look. “Oh, baby. You better watch the fuck out. I would for you.”

 Andrew rolls his eyes.

 “If you were awake, you should’ve come to practice with us. God knows you could use it.” This time, Kevin gets wise and dodges Andrew’s silencing elbow. Andrew squints at him. And Kevin glares back. “He      does    ! It would’ve been a better use of time. Besides, the semester’s almost over. We won’t even be here to look at it in a couple weeks, will we?”

 “I don’t know! If we decide to go chill in Columbia, that’s fine with me. We can pack it up and take it with us. I don’t know. I don’t care. I just wanted to do something nice! And it was fucking hard to find orange twinkle lights, so shut the fuck up, Day!” Nicky says, effectively shutting Kevin down.

 Kevin holds his hands up in surrender, though he doesn’t look happy about it. “Fine, it’s great, Nicky.”

 Andrew is not looking forward to packing this gargantuan disaster into the car. He shakes his head. Nicky moves to walk past them once more and Neil holds his arm out.

 “Nicky. Just a note, the next time you decide to surprise us… Don’t.” Neil says.

 “I had to!”

 “Mmhmm. I know. But you could’ve ended up in the ER. Andrew is armed and I am not particularly fond of people coming at me out of nowhere. If I hadn’t realized it was you, I might have tried to kill you.” Neil says. Nicky’s mouth falls open and a glimmer of realization flickers behind his eyes. Andrew’s sure his cousin hadn’t thought the ‘surprise the kid who hates surprises’ thing through.

 “Huh… I didn’t… Sorry?” Nicky makes a face.

 Neil shrugs and goes to sit on the couch.

 “Okay. Well, I’m going to bed. I need my beauty rest. Also, I      will     be late for morning practice tomorrow.” Nicky sneaks in as he walks away. Kevin sputters.

 “You better not be!” Kevin says, following Nicky into the bedroom. He starts to make his case, but Andrew hears Nicky’s body hit the mattress.

 “Oh no, I’m already asleep!” He says quickly, throwing in a fake snore for good measure. A few moments pass and he calls, “Night, Andrew. Night, Neil.”

 Kevin squawks, not accustomed to being ignored. But really, he should get used to it.

 “Goodnight,” Neil says softly, still looking at the tree.

 Kevin appears in the doorway, “Don’t forget to turn it off.”

 Andrew waves him away and goes to perch on the couch arm. They’re both silent, Neil staring at the Christmas tree and Andrew staring at Neil. The outline of the tree must be burned into his corneas at this point. Neil angles his face upwards to look at Andrew who raises a brow. Neil makes a face and starts to blink rapidly.

 He squeezes his eyes shut tight for a few minutes and Andrew can’t help but notice the way his lashes sit against his cheeks. Neil opens them again and Andrew looks away.

 “It      is    kinda pretty.” Neil says.

 Andrew shrugs, “It’s alright.”

 “I’m exhausted.” Neil yawns.

 Andrew nods in agreement.

 “I can’t believe you made me walk upstairs.” Neil says, standing up slowly.

 “I can not believe you wouldn’t shut up about exy the entire ride back.” Andrew says, yanking the plug out of the socket.

 Neil looks at him. “So it was punishment for talking about exy?”

 Andrew neither confirms nor denies. After all, if they’d all come up together, Nicky’s surprise would’ve been ruined. So… it was worth it, he supposes.

 —

 The next morning, Andrew feels Neil climb out of his bunk and follows quickly after him with their blanket draped over his shoulders. Andrew stands in the doorway of the bedroom, watching as Neil plugs in the Christmas tree. It looks just as ridiculous in the morning as it had the night before. Andrew rolls his eyes at the sight and watches as Neil goes to start a pot of coffee.

 Neil’s face lights up when he sees Andrew wandering into the room. Andrew sticks his tongue out, earning a laugh. Then he goes to inspect the tree. He hadn’t gotten a great look at it last night, beyond the lights which nearly blinded him.

 The tinsel is silver, the ornaments a mess of orange and white. Ribbons cascade down from the top and a ridiculous orange feather boa is woven through the branches. Andrew supposes Nicky hoped it would pass for garland.

 Andrew’s eyes follow the ribbon upwards, to the top of the tree he can barely see. And he finds at the highest point, there is a piece of paper clipped to the tree with a bobby pin. He scrunches his brows. Kevin’s morning alarm starts to blare in the bedroom, making Neil curse. Andrew steps up to the Christmas tree to get a closer look at the paper. He finds that it’s actually a Polaroid… Of Neil.

 Andrew tilts his head and blinks. Yes, it is definitely Neil, with his hand in front of his face. Andrew turns to watch real Neil pour himself a cup of black coffee and take a sip— disgusting heathen. Neil notices Andrew’s eyes on him and gestures to the pot. Andrew nods and Neil pours him some as well. Half a cup, which Andrew promptly fills to the brim with cream and sugar.

 Kevin’s alarm is still going off, but the bastard must be in a deep sleep. A few moments later, he hears Nicky yell for him to shut it off. And when he doesn’t get his way, Nicky comes stumbling into the living room with a look that could kill.

 Andrew raises a brow at his cousin.

 “He won’t turn the alarm off! If he’s not dead, I’m going to kill him at my earliest convenience.” Nicky says.

 “Why didn’t you just turn it off instead?” Neil asks.

 “I couldn’t find his fucking phone!” Nicky laments, leaning up against the counter. He stifles a yawn. “Jesus, how do you guys do this all the time?”

 Neil shrugs; Andrew copies him. There’s shuffling in the bedroom and the alarm finally shuts off. Nicky glares at the wall that separates him from Kevin.

 “Explain the photo.” Andrew commands. Nicky blinks at him. Andrew jerks his chin towards the Christmas tree and a smile breaks out across Nicky’s face.

 “The what?” Neil asks, looking to the left but not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

 “Okay, so… Some people put an angel on top of their tree. And some put a star. I couldn’t decide, so I did both!” Nicky says, awfully proud of himself. Andrew stares at him in disbelief. Neil gives Andrew a glance before wandering over to the tree to check it out for himself. Upon seeing his own photograph, Neil snorts.

 “You think I’m an      angel    ?” He asks incredulously.

 “Yes!”

 “I have killed people, Nicky,” Neil explains.

 “Well…” Nicky awkwardly looks away. “You’re still a star!”

 “A star?” Neil asks.

 “Yep!” Nicky says, popping the ‘p.’ “And I’ve got proof of that!”

 Andrew watches Nicky go to grab something off the coffee table and he returns, dropping a newspaper on the counter in front of them. A small headline in the sports section catches Andrew’s attention,  ‘Josten on his way to becoming Exy’s newest star striker.’

 Neil laughs at this. And the sudden absence of Kevin’s alarm renders Andrew deaf. He can’t remember a time when it wasn’t echoing across their dorm. Kevin drags himself into the kitchen and sticks his stupid hand out. Andrew shoves a mug into it and fills it with coffee, spilling some on Kevin’s wrist ‘accidentally.’ Kevin hisses and wipes it on his shirt before taking a drink. After a few moments, Kevin is lucid enough to read the newspaper.

 “Star striker?” He says with a raised brow. “You’ve got a long way to go yet.”

 “I didn’t write it!” Neil says.

 Nicky glares at Kevin, “You’re just jealous you’re not on the tree!”

 Kevin starts to nod in sleepy agreement, then quickly turns to look at Nicky. “What?”

 Nicky just blinks, leaving Kevin to draw his own conclusions.

 “Nicky thinks I’m an angel. And a star,” Neil says, gesturing to the tree top. Kevin goes over and the bastard doesn’t even have to look up to see it. He rolls his eyes.

 “Mm. A real angelic angel you picked, Nicky. I’m glad my alarm woke you up for practice.” Kevin says smugly. Then Andrew realizes that he’d let it go on just to annoy Nicky.

 “My little angel of death,” Nicky starts with a sickeningly sweet smile, “kick Kevin in the shin for me, would you?”

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

For dating game: Donna Noble for a non Mash option from something I'm pretty sure I've seen you reblog stuff from, BJ, and Klinger

I can't believe I got 2 Donnas for this game and neither were the MASH one haha. And yes I AM a Doctor Who fan but like with Twin Peaks I'm only a shallow fake one because I only feel really passionate about RTD era :( sowwy again. I'm 0 for 2 today. But at least I didn't skip MASH s1-3 AND I didn't skip the 9th Doctor AND I read Laura's diary + Dale Cooper's tapes. So now everyone has to give me a little headpat and forgive me and say they're not mad at me thank you <3

Donna Noble

I couldn’t handle Donna QwQ I couldn’t match her energy it’s very sad :( I feel like I would do the exact opposite of what the Doctor did for her in terms of bringing out her most amazing qualities. And I do really try to highlight and praise the qualities of people in my life!! I just don’t know if I could help her reach her full potential. Which sounds like one of those weird therapy-talk approaches to relationships but unfortunately sometimes when you really admire someone you actually do start thinking about things like “am I supporting her journey effectively” and all that. But this is just a date right so it can just be a casual thing. I feel like Donna is someone with whom I could straight up be like Hey so I was never socialized properly and your last relationship ended comically terribly so do you want to like try practicing dating with each other? I think it could be fun! And then eventually she could move on to find happiness with Mr. Temple :)  

Wait actually sorry quick tangent if Donna doesn’t remember the Doctor what does she think happened to her fiance from way back when. Does she. Does she remember the giant alien spider or. Hang on--

BJ Hunnicutt

BJ Hunnicutt is the human equivalent of Disneyland. Everybody in the entire nation is absolutely obsessively feral over it it’s sooo beautiful it’s sooo fun you just HAVE to experience it it’s a quintessential expression of the American dream blah blah blah. But I will never attend this overpriced (constantly borrowing money) and overcrowded (too much competition from the rest of Mashblr) theme park. I do not care for its fastpass system (willingness to cheat on his partner) or its uninspiring coaster design (anger issues), and I am further offended to hear of the constant introduction of cost-cutting measures that harm visitor experience (growth of mustache). Not even the prospect of purchasing a fully functioning Cogsworth clock (chance to join the Punnihawk polycule) is enough to tempt me. It’s not happening. I am going to Dollywood (Maxwell Klinger).

Maxie my beautiful girl Maxie whomst is so very adored by me

My wife my kitten my sweet snuggly wuggly good time gal. My Dollywood. Know that I love and adore Maxwell for eternity <3

BUT. I must love her from afar because I couldn’t in good conscience waste her time when I figure there must be a more compatible match out there, ya know? Like, I know hardly anything about baseball and I wear the same clothes every day and I don’t eat red meat so I can’t even share those beloved hotdogs. Max deserves the Best as I’m sure we all agree, and we know he wants a serious long term partnership. I want the same thing, so I know that such a lifelong, committed relationship should be with someone who finds themself more easily compatible with Max’s tastes and interests.  

On an unrelated note, Charles sure seemed to get super into baseball in War For All Seasons, huh? :) And we know he cares a lot about his clothes, as we see him hiring a personal tailor at least once! :) And he was surprisingly eager to get to share in Max’s hotdog delivery in The Grim Reaper, too! :) So many random fun facts in this world \^w^/

[witchcatyoshiko]

“Ah, my child, I will forgive the slip of pleasantries and not count that as your question,” you raised your palm to the young woman in front of you, often those from habitual etiquette would start with such a question then cringe, worrying and pleading for another question. It was nice that such things were so ingrained into people that they would break the initial silence with such things. The whining after was rather grating so you would try to stop it before it started. You let your hand drop once more, pleating your fingers together under the thick cloth you had folded on your lap.

In the beginning you had worked hard to look regal, wearing only the tribal beads and adornments you’d originally trekked to the mountain top with but, the fact of the matter was, it’s very cold on a mountain top. So through the years you’d collected pretty blankets left from travelers and folded them around yourself like a purposeful priest robe. You smiled softly thinking of how lovely the blue of the blanket on your lap went with your “color wheel” as you’d read it in the book someone had left behind. There had been quite a bit of new ideas in that book, a window into the world far below. Of course the intense visions you got periodically also made sure you stayed in touch with the on goings of the world, you liked the books better. They were definitely less taxing on the brain.

The woman waved her hands widely, her brows knit together but her mouth breaking into a smile, “what? No no that really was my question.” She paused, looking at you expectantly but you stared back with confusion. Her eyes slowly widened, silence closing in once more, she began to make popping noises with her lips. Suddenly she shuffled, going from sitting on her legs to leaning on her side, propped up on one arm, the other expressing to the sky above her, “you see I was talking to my nephew about you, he’s very small. Not sure how old. Like one of those young ages. Like 2 or 12, probably not 12.” She chewed her lip a moment in thought then went back to her waving, “Anyway, we had got to talking about you, I don’t know. I think I mentioned you when he showed me his mashed potato mountain with a lil fried chicken bit on top and I just went ‘Oh is that the prophet?’ And he asked ‘who?’ And I said, you know the prophet guy who answers questions and so we went into it with all the questions he asks.” She made a blathering noise, rolling her hand from her mouth like she was spewing up words as she rolled her eyes, “Well anyways, as those infants do, he ran me into a corner where I just couldn’t answer. He asked ‘does anyone ask the prophet how he’s doing?’ And I said probably not because everyone has things they have to ask about and no one’s going to get all the way up there and ask how he’s doing cuz he’s probably going to say he’s fine or whatever cuz you know, no one just spews out everything to strangers when they just ask ‘how you doing?’ You’re supposed to just say fine and get on with your shopping, Nate!” She huffed, crossing her eyes and shifting to her other side, using her opposite hands to prop herself up and continue expressing, “The kid is relentless. Auntie it’s not right. Auntie someone should ask. So what if he says he’s fine. You talk a lot maybe he will too. Auntie you tell me to talk it out. You always listen to my day. So what if he’s on a mountain and only sees trees, he can have a favorite. What if a bird came by or a squirrel did a funny thing and he’s got no one to tell it to. How do you know if people chat with him after they ask their question? What if he said something they didn’t like and they just leave after yelling at him?” She rolled her hand in front of her mouth again, her voice had begun to drone in a higher pitched voice as if she were mocking the child, “You don’t have a job, you should go see him and chat. You don’t do anything anyways.” She began to gag, mock choking herself. She sat up suddenly, crossing her legs like you and cracking her neck. She pointed, “I am not unemployed. I developed tech for my uncle when I was young and we sold it. Now I just make update tech for it and I can work my own hours.” She shook her head, “but try to tell that to a kid while your brother in law works 9-5 and grumbles about you always hanging around the house eating your sister’s home-cooking.” She shrugged, “I paid for the house and my sister is a great cook. Why should I have to pretend for him?” She settled into a moody slump and silence closed around again.

You stared at her. After a few moments she began to fiddle with her pants, there seemed to be a new tear in them that she’d just noticed. You tried to hold back but you couldn’t anymore, you laughed. You laughed so hard you began to wheeze, rocking forward and back until you slipped back too far and fell backward onto your bundle of pillows. When you finally started to settle down you could hear her speaking again, “I’m not lying. The dude is broken. You broke him with your question, Nate. Not cool. Do you know how far I traveled to break a man? I’m like an assassin now. I’m gonna have to take his place like friggin Santa. I don’t know the first thing about making prophecies. No, you can’t be my elf. You have school on Monday. That’s not how time zones work and you know it.” You lifted yourself to see the woman glaring at her phone with one ear piece in. She looked up, “oh he’s up. I’ll call you back. No you can’t talk to him. I’m not letting you waste your one question on ‘what’s your favorite color?’ No that’s totally what you’d ask. Ok what would you ask? You know what, never mind I’m getting a lot of eye contact here. I’m calling you back. Bye. BYE!” She mocked anger and rolled her eyes, “Yea I love you too. Tell your mom to mail me that lasagna. No not leftovers, the exact slice on your plate. I’m eating that.” She made kissy faces at the phone, breaking into a bright smile, “love you, butt munch.” She hung up and removed the earpiece. “Sorry.” She said looking very much unapologetic as she tucked her phone away.

You pointed at the phone, “that…” you began.

She took the phone out again, “this? It’s a phone. I know you’ve been up here a while but weird you haven’t seen one from people, thought they’d take pictures or something. Uh,” she put the phone to her ear, “it’s like a way to talk to people far away.” She looked at her phone, “I had to rig mine so the brat could reach me out here. He said I could just fake it if I didn’t call while I was with you. I mean, honestly, I could probably fake it either way but ya know… “she shrugged tucking away the phone, “I had the time.”

You stared again. The utter shock was too much but she opened her mouth again and you feared she’d go into another rant so you quickly spoke up, “Can you do a phone for me too?”

She closed her open mouth then smiled, the wicked glint in here eye enhanced by the playful kid’s song playing from her phone. She answered the phone without breaking eye contact, clicking the speaker button, “Nate, guess who’s answering questions now?”

A young boy’s voice rose from the phone, “Mom says if you’re Santa now you can have your elves make you lasagna”

You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you’re sure you’ve heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, “How are you doing?”