#did i forget what the name of this was at some point

[puckinghischier]

Can your beautiful mind provide some domestic Christmas Quinn thoughts?

well…i have been thinking about how quinn is 100% one of those men that can’t wrap a present to save his life. so when you’re out doing some last minute shopping one day, he brings all of your presents out of their hiding spot and tries his best.

he starts out on his own, watching youtube videos and tutorials to try and make sure he measures the paper right and creases it properly. but when he ends up with several…wad-looking wrapping jobs he facetimes his mom, recruiting her as a wrapping coach.

“mom, i’ve tried so many times and i just can’t get it right. she’s told me before how much she loved wrapped presents, so i don’t want to just put them all in bags, but i don’t know if i’m going to have much of a choice at this point.”

ellen laughs at her son, pulling out her own wrapping supplies and tries to show him again. she talks him through the whole process, and when he finally wraps a present right, he’s beaming from ear to ear. she stays on the phone and coaches him through the rest of your presents as he thanks his mom over and over again for her help.

just as he’s placed the last one under the tree (the poorly wrapped ones shoved in the back) he hears the door open and in you walk with a hoard of shopping bags on each arm.

when you walk into the living room, eyes glued to the now full space under the tree, your eyes light up.

“quinn, did you wrap all of these?”

he walks over to you, taking some of the bags from your hands. “sure did. all by myself,” he beams at you.

“excuse me, your mother had a hand in this too. where’s my credit?”

you hear ellen’s voice flowing through the speaker of quinn’s phone, the device still propped up on the coffee table, surrounded by wrapping paper.

quinn’s face turns bright red, forgetting his mom was still on the phone. you look at his embarrassed state, endeared more than anything that he cared about wrapping your presents so much, he called his mom as a reinforcement.

“is that true?” he nods his head.

“well, yeah. i kinda botched the first few, and the youtube videos weren’t helping, so aside from taking them all to a store to have someone professionally wrap them for me, mom was my last shot,” he shrugged, embarrassed about the fact his lack of wrapping skills has been outed.

“q, that’s so sweet oh my god,” you gush at him, batting your eyes and bringing your hand to rest over your heart.

“really? you don’t think it’s embarrassing i don’t know how to wrap a present?”

you balk at him, rolling your eyes. “quinn, the fact you went through so much trouble to wrap them, instead of putting them in a bag like every other guy i’ve ever dated, is the sweetest thing ever. why would i care if they’re perfectly wrapped or not?”

“see, quinn! i told you she wouldn’t care if they were perfect!” you hear from his phone, both of you having now forgotten about ellen.

“yeah, quinn. listen to your mother,” you playfully scold him, walking past him so you’re in frame on his phone. “thanks, ellen. what ever would these boys do without you?” you joke with her, earning a laugh.

“oh, you know, probably bug you a lot more than they already do,” she jests back, referencing how often not only your own hughes boy calls you about needing help with finding things around the apartment, or needing you to tell him what the brand name is of that certain kind of protein powder is he likes, but how often his two brothers call you with their own questions and advice requests.

“alright, mom, thanks for your help and all, but i have all the presents wrapped and i need help her put all this stuff away now. i love you, bye,” quinn interrupts the laughter ringing out between you and his mom, picking up his phone and pressing the end call button.

“quinn, you did not just hang up on your mom,” you scold him, gasping at his actions.

“i’d had her on the phone for hours already it’s fine,” he brushes it off. “plus, i don’t think she’d want to witness what i’m about to do,” he walks towards you, pointing up to the mistletoe strung high above your head.

you look back down just as he reaches you, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a very heated kiss.

dropping the bags in your hands, he walks the two of you over to the couch, all mention of gifts and wrapping forgotten.

[joezworld]

Christmas Story

So yeah, I really did drop a 15,427 word chapter on you guys last time. Hope you liked it.

The Fat Controller had to be summoned. 

There had been, immediately following the shouting and the yelling and the shovel and the wrench, a near perfect silence as everyone tried to digest what had just happened. The snow had muffled a great deal of the natural sounds, and it amplified the quiet. 

The silence that occurred after the Fat Controller finished roaring at Truro would have been as equally complete on a brisk summer’s day as it was on snowy Christmas Eve. 

Not even the snow dared crunch under Charles Hatt’s feet as he walked away, then stopped and turned on the ball of his foot. He pointed at Truro, and the engine jumped slightly. “I expected better of you. I will not make that mistake again.” 

He continued on his way back to the station. On the platform, the stationmaster, signalman, and yardmaster were staring in wide-eyed shock. “See to it that he is returned to his owners post haste.” The Fat Controller hissed as he walked by, not even turning to face them. 

The doors to the waiting room opened and shut with a slam, and they were alone on the platform for a moment. Then the doors opened again, much more softly, revealing Stephen Hatt. He was calmer, but no less furious. “So, which one of you got his nose like that?”

The three men looked at each other. “Someone from the P-Way gang.” Said the stationmaster. “Don’t know his name.”

“An’ Ted, one of the drivers, got him with the shovel,” the signalman spoke up. 

Charles didn’t say anything for a while, rummaging through his coat pockets for something, eventually fishing out a silver flask. “Tell them “well done”.” He said, popping the cap off and taking a long drink. “That one deserved it.”

-----

The news spread up and down the line like wildfire: 

At Wellsworth, Edward was outraged, his smoke jagged and shaky as he fumed. “I cannot believe I didn’t notice!” he raged at himself. 

BoCo, on the other buffer, was less upset. “I can’t believe they broke his nose. I wish I could’ve seen it. I hope they don’t fix it before I can see it.”

-

On Thomas’ branch line, the engines were horrified. “He did what?” Toby said, horrified and aghast. “Doesn’t he have any decency?”

“He thought he did,” Thomas said quietly. “It’s just that his version of decency is quite indecent to everyone else.”

“He’s a goddamned fundamentalist, is what he is,” Percy grunted. “They’re always trouble.”

“Forget him,” Daisy scoffed. “What about Bear? Has anyone told him?”

-

Bear smiled when the stationmaster told him. For reasons that he couldn’t properly express even to himself, he’d started sleeping out behind the shed in Barrow, and had planned on having a very lonely Christmas. “They roughed him up some?” He chuckled. “Well isn’t that the best present I could get. Warms me up a bit just thinking about it.” 

“Yes, I imagine it would,” the stationmaster replied, keeping his uncharitable thoughts about Western steam engines to himself. 

“Say, is there any way I could get back to Tidmouth sheds by tonight?”

“The Fat Controller already called. You’re on the next train out of here.”

-

In the sheds, there was a very distinct rumble of anger at Truro’s actions. 

“Some icon he is,” James scoffed. “Let the mainland have him, I say!”

“I cannae believe that he’d stoop so low.” Douglas growled. “An’ do all that.”

“I coulda’ been killed!” Donald interjected. 

“You and me both…” Oliver said, voice quiet. “I can’t believe that I didn’t see it.”

“None of us did,” Delta said. “I thought he was a run of the mill bastard, not… one of my siblings.”

There was a wave of agreement through the shed. “He really is a diesel, isn’t he?” James said. “In all the very worst ways. No offense.”

“None taken.” She mused. “I ought to adopt him. Lord knows we’ve lost enough of the ranks in the last few years.” A pause. “Oh he’d hate that, wouldn’t he? The idea that a diesel likes him.”

James and Oliver both snickered at the thought. “You should do that. He might melt his crown sheet.” “You can have him, I don’t imagine anyone else wants him.”

A little bit more laughter echoed across the diesel-steam divide before Delta rolled her eyes. “Gosh, that means I’d have to put up with him, wouldn’t I? Maybe not then.”

“Yeah, for the best.” “Probably.”

“What do you think, Gordon?” She looked over to where the big engine was uncharacteristically silent. “Anything?”

“Hmm?” Gordon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t think I have anything productive to say right now.”  

James raised an eyebrow, and barely managed to stop something insulting from coming out of his mouth. Gordon caught it anyway, but recognized the effort. “Truly, I don’t.” He paused, exhaling a deep breath. 

James’ eyebrow was joined by one from Oliver. 

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Oh fine. You want my piece?” He exhaled again. “There are lines that are created when you reach this stature, when you become the face of a railway. They exist for Flying Scotsman, they exist for Mallard, they exist for Duchess of Hamilton, and they exist for myself.” He looked deeply serious. “In time, I feel that they may come to exist for Thomas, even.” Another pause. “These lines are not… restrictions, but they are there, constantly. You are the icon of the railway - of your lineage. Your actions reflect upon everyone. To cross them, to break the norm, is a very serious thing indeed.”

There was a choked noise from the other end of the shed, and everybody looked over at Duck. 

After the… event with Truro, the Fat Controller had cancelled the rest of the Little Western’s services for the day - Oliver needed to be checked for damage, and Duck (who had heard everything) refused to move under his own power. Donald had pulled them back to the big station, and pushed them into the sheds. 

Duck hadn’t said a word since, and everyone had assumed he’d fallen asleep. 

Whether he actually had was immaterial, because he was now awake and crying quietly. 

Oliver and the others immediately tried to comfort him, and Gordon was left alone in the clamor. “It’s a serious thing,” He said, unheard by everyone. “Because you stop being an engine, and start being a legend.”

He watched as Duck wept silently. “And people put a great deal of faith into legends…”

--------

It is almost Christmas.

--------

At some point close to midnight, as the last passenger trains for the mainland slipped off into the distance, an inspector came to the sheds. Now that it’s quiet, he said. Someone needs to bring Truro up to the big station. 

Gordon was still in steam, and volunteered before anyone else could say anything. 

He went light engine, taking due care in the tunnel, Bulgy’s bridge, and the points outside Haultraugh station. How many hours, pounds, and men did it take to fix the problems caused by one engine? He thought as he made his way down the line. 

The station at Arlesburgh was empty, with everything buttoned up tightly for the holiday. There was a sliver of light coming from inside the shed of the small railway, but everything else was lit only by the moon. 

Truro sat by the shed, alone, cold, and forgotten about; his glossy paint, which usually reflected light back into the air, seemed to be absorbing it, leaving the area around him darker than the rest. 

Silently, Gordon slipped into the goods yard, and retrieved two flatbeds and a brakevan. Nobody, engine or crew, wanted to be near the disgraced Westerner, and so the flatbeds acted as physical separation; the van was to make sure that they didn’t have to rely on Truro for any braking power. 

The trucks watched silently as Gordon collected his train. “And they said tender engines don’t shunt.” one voice whispered from the sidings. Gordon didn’t dignify it with a response. 

“Are we taking him to be someone else’s problem?” Toad asked as Gordon coupled up to him. 

“We’re getting there.”

“Excellent.”

Truro finally seemed to realize what was happening as Gordon marshalled Toad and one of the flatbeds next to him. “Are you to ‘take me away’?” he asked, mockingly. 

Gordon, Toad, and the trucks glared at him, but otherwise remained silent. They stayed silent as Gordon was turned on the turntable, the train was put together, and then set off for the big station. 

As they left the yard, seemingly every truck in the yard called out "good riddance!”, breaking the silence for the first and only time. 

Truro seemed unnerved by that for just a second, but the train had been oriented so nobody actually had to look at him, so it wasn’t a sure thing. 

“What?” He asked as they rolled towards Haultraugh. “Not one word for the condemned? Are you all so poisoned by the soft thinkings of this island that I don’t even get a final goodbye?”

“City of Truro.” Gordon said finally. “I understand the things you went through. I went through many of them myself.”

“I don’t think that you di-”  

“And I thought, perhaps naively, that you and I were similar.”

“Similar? Pah! Our similarities end at the coal that goes in our boilers!” Unseen by everyone, Truro was twisting up his face in bitter mockery, and making his already broken nose worse with each facial contortion. 

“I know,” Gordon said as he negotiated the train through the temporarily-repaired switch at Haultraugh. “I assumed that our differences were the core of our similarities, Our roles as leaders of what was left of our lineages. I am the first Gresley, and spoken of in the same breath as Mallard and Flying Scotsman. You are the Greatest Westerner, and often come up in concert with Brunel himself.”

“Oh get on with whatever pretentious moral judgement you want to give me, and spare me the sermon.”

Gordon’s face twisted into a frown. “I assumed incorrectly, and it will not happen again. You are not like me, nor my brother. You are no luminary, no role model. You have a half-baked record to your name and little more. You are a disgrace to your railway and mine.”

Truro’s response was lost to the noise as the train entered the tunnel, and no more was said after that. 

Gordon completed the trip in silence, and left Truro in the yard near the station, surrounded by empty tracks and a brick wall. He made sure to move Toad and the flatbeds before he left, and then sidled up next to him. 

His crew jumped down, and began setting Truro’s handbrake and chocking his wheels. “I’m a disgrace?” Truro said, clearly trying to get the last word in. “It’s you who is-”

He was cut off, not by Gordon, but by the clocktower from the Catholic Cathedral. It bonged once, twice, eventually twelve times, and then launched into a deep, bass-y version of Carol of the Bells. 

“Merry Christmas, City of Truro.” Gordon said as he steamed away. “I hope that you find happiness someday.” 

-

A few minutes later, he arrived in the shed to find everyone sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. He noted with some joy that Bear was parked squarely between James and Delta, and was snoring away like nothing was wrong. 

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” he said as quietly as he could, while his crew banked his fire.

He didn’t go to sleep just yet, though. He had to think about something…

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

(A/N: Based on this post about seventeen as supermarket cashiers. Hope you guys like it!)

The chime of the bells signaling the start of Christmas day was welcoming to all but you. To you, it was nothing but a death sentence. With ten dollars in your wallet and a sleepy daughter in your arms, you felt so so tired. If there was a choice you would not have bought her with you. It was almost unbearable for you that your tiny angel was unconsciously witnessing how pathetic and powerless her mother truly was.

Picking up the cheapest looking bread, you find out that it was almost five dollars. But you had no other options. This and the american cheese that you were certain was plastic were all you could afford now. Your head was spinning thinking about how you had to puff up a cheese sandwich like it was ambrosia from the gods. When and how did you reach the checkout section you don’t even know.

“ Hello, I am Soonyoung! Can you pass me your items to scan?” The cheerful words from the cashier in front of you jolted you back to the present. Looking at him, you couldn’t help thinking that he bore a striking similarity to your daughter. Which was ridiculous. One was a five year old girl in tattered clothes, the other was a twenty something man with blond hair and striking features. Hell, he was closer to your age than your child’s. Shaking off your foolish thoughts, you reply,

“ Of course. And I would like to pay by cash.”

“ Sure! No problem.” A cheeky grin was flashed in your direction. But soon, with every second Soonyoung couldn’t get the scanner to cooperate with him, his smile dimmed a bit more. Five minutes later, he abandoned the machine with a resentful muttering of ‘always does this to him on purpose’ and was now painstakingly inputting the serial code of the cheese into the computer. At this point your arms were getting strained holding your precious cargo. No matter how small a kid was, it was tiring to hold them in one position for a long time.

“ Soonyoung, did you forget how to use the scanner again? ” A gentle voice spoke from beside you. The gentle voice was matched with gentle doe eyes and a name tag on his uniform that said ‘Joshua’.

Soonyoung whined in protest. “ I did not forget how to use that stupid machine. It’s broken again! ”

“Uh huh, sure. Please be quicker. You have already made the customer wait for a long time.” Joshua chided softly.

“Jeez, okay. Just give me a minute.” was the sullen reply.

Turning to you, Joshua asked conversationally, “ I used to love cheese sandwiches as a kid too. That’s what you were buying the bread and cheese for, right? Please say yes or I just confessed my undying love for them for nothing.”

Surprising even yourself, you giggled. But reality sobered you up in a second. With a strained smile, you replied, “ No, actually. My daughter really wanted a christmas dinner like she sees in movies. But we are on a budget so….”

With a sudden intense light in his eyes, Joshua asked, “ What is your budget? Maybe I can help? I like to cook in my free time.”

You hesitate for a moment before letting out a whispered “Ten dollars” into the air.

After a few seconds, he replied, “How about a turkey casserole and cherry pie cookie bars?”

“ Tha- that’s possible?” You couldn’t help but stutter. A small flicker of hope was born in your heart.

“ Very possible.” Joshua affirmed with a reassuring smile. The next moment his voice changed into a commanding one. “Yo, Soonyoung, leave those there and bring me two packages of sugar cookie mix, a can of cherry pie fillings, and a small tub of margarine from aisle 14 and 21.” 

“Oh, thank god.” The blond man ran away as if there was wind under him. You couldn’t help but share a helpless glance with the other man.

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in your car in a daze with a full bag of groceries, handwritten recipes for an amazing dinner, and some change in your wallet. Joshua and Soonyoung may have been a whirlwind but they were also a christmas miracle. Your christmas miracle.

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness

Diverted-Dimension (Christmas 2024)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Why am I back here again!? Take me back to the canon!

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Finally!" You cheered, stepping back to admire the Christmas tree in the corner of your living room.

"It looks good." Pantalone commented, looking at all the trinkets placed on the tree. "Although, I believe this gadget would look better placed there... And this bauble, yes, hmm, perhaps on the branch above rather than--"

Y'know, it always takes one person to ruin everyone else's happiness doesn't it? Especially when their name is Pantalone. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his fiddling with what you considered a complete and beautiful tree.

Let's just hope Columbina doesn't see him fiddling with her decorations. For Pantalone's sake, you pray she takes five extra minutes in the bathroom so he can have a safe getaway when he's finished with something he sees as necessary.

Anyway, you've been preparing for Christmas day tomorrow. You wanted to put up the tree earlier, not wanting to leave it this late, however being busy babysitting and making sure all the Harbingers go to work with a happy mood sure takes up a lot of time. Not only does it feel like you're playing a very dangerous version of the Sims, but more importantly, it sucks that when all of them leave you have to entertain the others that don't go to work in the first place.

"It feels like the tree is missing something." Dottore chimed in, standing back with a finger on his bottom lip.

"Please don't say that, The Regrator is already driving himself mad with his own activities." Arlecchino stated 

Ignoring those two... They're right, something seems wrong with the tree. But you used everything in the box, what could be missing --

Oh, of course! How could you forget!?

"It's missing an angel on top!" You pointed out, walking over to the Christmas box and rummaging around.

After a while of digging and loud crashing noises consisting of you throwing out whatever you thought could also be added, you found a dusty china angel missing a hand.

"Agh, this won't do." You scolded yourself. "We'll have to go with a star instead. I'll have to cut one out later."

"Cut one out? How are you going to cut a star out of the sky?" Childe asked with a bewildered expression.

"They mean they'll cut one out of paper you damn idiot." Scaramouche glared out of the corner of his eye.

"I often see the Children of the Hearth doing something similar when I pass by..." Signora thought to herself out loud, leaning on one of the arms of the sofa.

"Yes, the children love cutting out different shapes and animals. It just so happens stars are one of the easiest things to make." Arlecchino nodded in agreement.

If it's so damn easy, why don't you do it for me?? You grumbled with an angry grin. It took you a few days to learn how to cut a good looking star out of paper due to your clutzy fingers, how dare they call it 'easy' in front of you!

"Hm? Why do you look angry at me?"

"No reason." You answered her, sharply turning your head away from her tilted one. "Do I even have any paper left? Ugh, I might have to use lined paper and paint it using gold nail varnish if push comes to shove."

"Absolutely not." Sandrone interrupted you. "That sounds messy and unnecessarily more difficult than if you just bought yellow card."

"And where do you propose I get this yellow card? Out of my arse?"

"No." She looked repulsed. "The shop? I saw some in an isle."

"When and why did you go into the corner shop?" You caressed your head, sighing when hearing her solution.

"That's unimportant."

"Sure it is. Anyway, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to cook Christmas dinner--"

"Oh no you don't." Scaramouche interrupted you with a cold voice. "The last time you cooked a genuine meal that didn't include those 'instant noodles', you poisoned everyone who has an organic stomach."

"No way, the Balladeer cares enough about me to not want to see me bedridden again?" Childe gushed with a chuffed smile.

"That's not important!" You raised your voice with flushed cheeks. "How did you know that what I cooked was 'instant' noodles? I never told you that!"

"I asked a staff member in the shop down the street when I saw the exact same package for sale in one of the pasta isles."

"Oh my god, how many of you have been in that damn shop without me!?"

The room stayed silent, some looking away with a cringe whilst others looked at you with unbothered faces.

“Do I count? I’ve never left the house.” Capitano raised his hand innocently.

"Unbelievable." You cried to yourself dramatically.

"I can't believe he's still fiddling." Pulcinella sighed with judging eyes, watching the banker radically move around the tree mumbling to himself like a robot given an impossible task.

"So this is what happens when you don't give him something to do after a long period of time. Lesson learnt." Pierro sweated, coughing into a clenched fist with shut eyes.

"It's not my fault." He turned to the group with hysterical eyes, every so often one twitching. Considering his eyes are always closed, you’re impressed that his mania has managed to do the impossible. "The Decider won't let me do one of the things I'm best at, manipulating an economy. Denying me access to undermining this country's government is making me go mad!"

"What a lunatic." You ignored him, eyeing his antics as nothing more than a regular occurrence at this point.

"So, we're up for cutting a star for the tree then?" You turned back to the group.

"It's your decision and your tree, so of course." Signora shrugged.

"I'm baaaack!~" Columbina burst through the door like a canary, singing with a pep in her step.

She stopped when she saw Pantalone running around the tree, her energy from earlier vanishing as fast as a bird when hearing a gunshot.

"Erm... It's not what it looks like." He turned around slowly, feeling her menacing and dangerous energy piercing his back.

He put his hands in the air, his smile shaking in fear.

"It better not be what it looks like." Her smile contrasted his own. "Because it seems you've been touching something I specifically warned all not to touch.~"

"He's dead, he's actually dead." Childe commented on the sidelines.

"Amen."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sandrone left to go get yellow card whilst Columbina forced you to tear down the Christmas tree and start decorating it from scratch. She said it was a punishment for you also, due to letting him rearrange it despite hearing her warning. What bullshit, she just couldn't be bothered to do it again. Anyway, Capitano helped you hold the christmas tree up so you could wrap the tinsel around it without trouble. What a nice guy… even though he technically isn’t helping you with what counts most.

"I don't understand why we're cutting out stars. Can't we just use me as the angel?" Columbina giggled to herself.

"No, that would be weird." You frowned at her. "What I don't understand is why everyone is cutting stars with me. Didn't the majority of you say this is going to be boring? Do something else!"

"The 'something else' you're talking about was also boring." Scaramouche picked up his pair of scissors, tracing his finger on the sharp side.

“I’d much rather cut something up than count how many particles are in a cloud.”

“What does that even mean!?”

“Anyway,” Dottore coughed with an irritated stretching smile. “I propose we make this a competition.”

“Of all the childish suggestions–” Arlecchino was cut off.

“I agree, I agree!” Columbina nodded with a happy smile. “It can’t be too hard, maybe we should have a reward for who wins the competition?”

“Although I find the idea of a competition to be senseless, a reward does sound quite… boosting.” Pantalone thought out loud, a greedy smile on his lips.

“This is not happening.” You sighed to yourself, head planted onto the table with exasperation radiating off of your slumped form.

“But what reward could we put on offer? I’m not against competition, heck, I encourage it! But what could we all fight for which would allow us to fight at our strongest the whole time?” Childe leaned against his chair.

The Harbingers thought to themselves, the room erupting in silence with the occasional cough or sniff. All of a sudden, their heads turned and looked at you. Feeling their gazes burning into you, you looked up from the table to see them expectantly eyeing you.

“Ohhh no. No way in whatever thoughts you’re all sharing am I getting involved in this. I’m not becoming some trophy you can flaunt for the rest of the evening.” You denied them.

“But you’re the perfect solution!” Childe playfully pouted.

“Quit torturing them, Childe.” Signora scolded the young ginger. “I propose this; let whoever wins ask The Decider one question. That question can be related to anything, the future or the past.”

“Hmm, but how would we know whether The Decider wouldn’t lie to us?” Dottore suggested.

“I’m staying out of this one.” Pulcinella put his hands in the air, leaving the room. “You youngsters go have fun, I’ll sit this one out.”

“Rooster, I would suggest staying to supervi–”

“So you can go back to that dirty office you keep closing yourself in to work? No thank you, I shall handle your paperwork today. You supervise this time.” He gave the director a harsh glare, making sure to purposefully hit him with his walking stick before walking away.

“Sometimes I can’t tell whether the Rooster is secretly a teenage girl or is just simply strange…” Pierro muttered to himself. Sighing.

“How about both, mixed in with the fact that he’s a psycho with more control issues than you think.”

“Hm? You think even more than the Regrator?”

“Deffo.” You clicked your tongue. “He just hides it because he’s a champ like that.”

“Don’t change focus!” Scaramouche raised his voice. “I order you to answer me. You will tell the truth to the victor of the contest, no?”

“Hold on, didn’t we agree to ask our own questions once we deliver them to the Tsaritsa?” Childe questioned.

“That was just to get you to not hound The Decider back when we first found them.” 

“Fine.” You agreed with an eye roll, secretly crossing your fingers behind your back like a five year old. You’ll probably just make something up that sounds accurate when the winner asks their question. You’re betting that Sandrone will win this though, this kind of has something to do with her job after all.

“It’s decided then!” Columbina clapped in delight. “The Decider and The Director will be our judges. We’ll work for 10 minutes to create a star suitable to be put on the tree, then will be judged to see who has the best!”

“This is not gonna go well…” You said, trying your best to cover the shaky smile on your face. This is the best! You’ll just pick someone who won’t ask a question you don’t mind answering! Thank you Columbina for giving you this chance.

“You’re telling me!” Pulcinella shouted from the other room, sarcasm oozing like tar glooping down a slope.

“Count us down, count us down!” Columbina couldn’t contain her excitement, her body practically vibrating.

“Alright, alright… Ugh, I regret this… On your marks, get set, cut!”

“Seriously? ‘Cut’?” Pierro turned to you.

“What was I supposed to say!?”

The Harbingers sat at the table immediately started cutting, the sound of card shredding and small pieces emitting everywhere. Guess who’s going to have to clean that up? You thought with a frown, watching card pile up in the small crevasses in your carpet.

Looking around at the Harbinger’s cutting paper, you realise one was just sitting there watching the others work.

“Uhh, Capitano? Aren’t you going to begin?” You asked him.

“No.” His deep voice answered in return. “I am not going to join this display, no matter how entertaining it will be for you. Firstly, my fingers won’t fit in the holes of the scissors. And secondly, I have no question to ask you so entering just for victory would be pointless.”

“Brother, your fingers can’t be that big.” You deadpanned, letting your mind wander a bit too far with the thought.

He simply crossed his arms and continued to watch the others, ignoring you from then on. Oh well, he’s not interfering or arguing back like a child so you’ll let it happen. Besides, it looks like he quite likes watching so it’s the least you could do.

Pierro put an arm on your shoulder, getting your attention. You turned to make eye-contact and saw him hesitating in what to say to you.

“Do you need a defibrillator? You look like you’re having a seizure.”

“Who do you think is going to make the best star?” He said after, not registering your insult you said a few seconds prior.

“Wow. Did it really take you that long to think of what to say to me?”

“Quiet.” He warned you.

“Hmm… Who do I think is going to win?” You mumbled out loud, pretending to give it some thought. “Screw it, I’m not going to pretend. Sandrone’s going to make the best one because she does this kind of thing as a job.”

“Hah!” She guffawed after hearing your predictions, continuing her cutting with a content smile.

“Buuuut, that’s not what makes a star special. It isn’t just perfection, but passion and hope. I want to see how unique some people will make it… within reason of course.”

“I wasn’t expecting such an intelligent reply.” Pierro sweated. “Here I was, ready to scold you.”

“It’s like that’s all you can ever bloody think about when it comes to me.” You deadpanned.

“You give me no choice half of the time.” He sighed with a shaking head. “Your choices are often questionable and must be corrected. Would you rather have a physical punishment instead?”

Is this guy nuts?

“No… No, I would not.”

“That's what I thought.” He turned to look at the competition.

“Decider, help me out here.” Scaramouche clicked his fingers, beckoning you like an old woman would to her juvenile cat.

“Do I look like your pet?” You recoiled in disgust.

“I’ll let you leave the house to go to that dumb park you like if you help me right now.”

“I’m on my way!” You ran over to his side, peering down to see the mess of a star he’s created. It’s not bad at all, it’s actually your style - you like it a lot! What on earth could he need help for?

When you peered down to his design, you felt a cold unnatural hand grasp the side of your head and pull it closer to his face.

“Tell me how you like them.” He whispered. “Would you rather me add more detail or remove it? And don’t lie to me or I’ll kill you.”

“Pierro, The Balladeer is cheating! He’s bribing The Decider!” Sandrone pushed her chair back and stood up dramatically, pointing her scissors at the offender.

“Hey, no fair!” Childe whined. “If he gets to bribe them, let me bribe them too!”

“If anyone is to bribe the Decider, it should be me. I am the richest man in Teyvat after all.” Pantalone shrugged whilst lazily cutting.

“Correction: Ningguang is the richest in terms of all. You only count as the richest when it comes to being a man.” You pointed out. “And besides, I would never take your dirty money.”

Piero coughed loudly to quieten everyone down, all in the room turning to him like a deer in headlights. He waited until everyone stopped complaining and then spoke.

“Do continue with your cutting, you have less than a minute left.” He gestured to the timer. “And no bribery. The first to test my patience and even attempt to do so will be put under experimentation during the rest of our stay here and our return.”

“Oh, by all means, bribe away!” Dottore laughed at the Harbinger’s around him, silently cutting.

Huh? Less than a minute left? But when you last looked at the time they had at least 8 minutes left. You checked the timer once more, and found fat greasy fingerprints on buttons that weren’t there prior. You turned to the old man with an incredulous face, mouth wide open. He caught your staring, and put a finger on his lips with a small almost unnoticeable smile.

Pierro, you cheeky bastard. I love you for this.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The stars were laid out on the dining table, each Harbinger stood behind their own creations. Sadly but also un-sadly, some Harbingers were too slow and couldn’t finish their star in time. By some, you mean Pantalone and surprisingly Sandrone.

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Sandrone had her face buried in her hands, looking at her creation with malice. “In defence, I value time to craft perfection. Announcing a set time dampens my methods and results in mechanics such as this one. Ugh, what a waste!” She threw the craft off of the table, the star unravelling itself immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.” You sarcastically waved at her embarrassment. “And you, Pantalone? What’s your excuse?”

“The scissors you gave me were tampered with! I call for–”

“So I’m the problem? Okay, whatever…”

You walked down the table, looking at each star neutrally then nodding and moving onto the next. Now, you’re not an expert, but did they really think you wouldn’t notice? They all look the exact same! They all look like copied versions of Scaramouche’s design! When watching him try to bribe you, they must have thought you liked his design the best and copied him to have a fair chance. Well, they’re wrong! You’re just going to pick the person who will give you the least trouble when answering their question, jokes on them!

…That was your original plan. After looking at all the stars, you felt a new motivation when noticing one person didn’t copy and stuck to their own principles. Also they may or may not be the only person to not take this seriously and you want to mess with the others a little bit. Pierro will agree with you, he’s the type to disregard any copycats so he won’t have trouble with your choice at all.

“Okay, I’ve decided on my winner.” You announced, stepping back to view the expectant Harbingers.

“Arlecchino, you win.”

“WHAT!?”

“But why?” She asked, not looking surprised or pleased. “I could care less about an answer to a question, nor do I care about winning this childish competition.”

“That’s actually why I picked you. And because your star is an original design - sorry Scara, but uhh, you might have won if the others didn’t copy.”

“Of course.” He grumbled, glaring at the Harbingers staring at him. “One day, I’m going to murder all of you fools and sell your parts to people far worse than Dottore! I’ll get back at all of you for ruining my chances!”

“Anyway,” You tuned his violent voice out. “Yeah, you’re the winner. Pierro, what do you think?”

“...I agree.” He said in a quieter tone. “Now, I will be returning to my office to continue what’s left of my work… and review what The Rooster has already completed.”

As he was walking away, you turned back to notice the majority of Harbingers had walked away to go back to what they were doing prior, bored after realising they wouldn't be able to profit with staying around for longer.

“Do I get to ask my question now?” Arlecchino tapped her elbow impatiently with folded arms.

“So you do want the reward?”

“Despite it not being my intention when joining, I would indeed like something that was promised. Whether it be an accident or a purposeful decision.”

“Okay, fine. Ask away then.” You shrugged.

“As you must already be aware, the majority of my Children from the Hearth hail from Fontaine, the nation of justice. I won’t lie to you, I’m beginning to grow increasingly concerned with the prophecy where–”

“--where the whole nation will be flooded and all the people will be killed except the archon? Yeah, I know of it. Your point?” You finished her explanation, already having an idea of where the conversation was heading.

“Then you will understand I care deeply about the future of my children. Tell me, will I succeed in convincing the Tsaritsa to visit Fontaine to retrieve the Gnosis in place of Rosalyne?”

“Of course you’d use the question to ask about your ‘precious children’.” Scaramouche mocked. “Just how idiotic can you be?? This is your chance to ask about the future!”

You gave a harsh glare with icy eyes in his direction before sighing, a smile on your face. “Yeah.”

“Hm? You have to give a higher detailed response to that.”

“You go to Fontaine, Childe coincidentally also there for his own personal motivations which may or may not be important. The whole time you’re there, you’re investigating Furina and the prophecy. Long story short, that I WILL NOT be elaborating, the prophecy is sorted and the people are saved. This includes the children in the House of the Hearth.” You explained, pleased with the question she asked you and your own personal answer. Wow, you can even impress yourself sometimes!

“Excellent.” She sighed in relief, her face unchanging. “Thank you. But I do have to ask, is the Hydro Archon really working to prevent the flood?”

“That’s two questions. But fine,” You shrugged. “You can trust her. Everything is proceeding to the plan, although interrogation and suspicion do indeed accelerate it to completion.” You thought out loud, noticing her questioning gaze and smiling deeper.

“That’s enough serious stuff. When are we going to discuss presents? Now that the tree is up we need to put the presents under it!” 

“Uh… We’re flat-out poor. We can’t afford presents.” Childe shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to accept my love as a present instead!”

“Ew, what are you, five? Wait… Don’t come over here! Not after saying something like that!” You panicked, watching him run over to you at full speed and choosing to run away.

“Scaramouche you know how you said you’d take me to the park? I’m cashing in that favour right now!”

[crownmemes]

Questioning Sentences, Vol. 37

(Questioning sentences from various sources to ask all kinds of muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"You like reminding me of my past, don't you?"

"So, um, I was wondering if we could sort of start over?"

"Do you realise that I don't usually get out of my pyjamas until five in the afternoon?"

"Too much for a first date?"

"Why do you continue with this preposterous idea of resuming your career?"

"What do you remember about your childhood?"

"I was honest with you, and this is how you repay me?"

"Don't you like this suit?"

"Are you rich? How much?"

"What do you propose to do in way of entertaining your handsome guest tonight?"

"What can I do to stop you from this insane behaviour?"

"Can't we just go some place we could talk?"

"Ever wonder where robots come from?"

"Should one murder be avenged by another?"

"Aren't you afraid of being alone up here with a killer?"

"What's the point in having a safe if you can't open it?"

"Tell me something; how many men have you killed in your life?"

"How badly are you hurt?"

"Do you know what a stomach wound does to a person?"

"Is that how you think the world works?"

"Why didn't you ever ask me out in high school?"

"Now, about this moustache - you don't like it, do you?"

"Am I going to die?"

"There really aren't any normal days in this job, are there?"

"You're pretty cute, you know that?"

"When do you ever worry about doing something wrong?"

"Do you think I'd let you work with something second rate?"

"Hey, are you sure that badge is real?"

"Are you forgetting you tried to kill me?"

"Is there any girl you haven't been engaged to?"

"Promise me that you won't do anything desperate?"

"Well, this is not something I'd planned. How did you find me?"

"Aren't those supposed to be evidence?"

"Does anyone know you're here?"

"How's life in retirement?"

"Why do you insist on provoking him?"

"There's no way I can convince you that you're wrong, is there?"

"Would you be very angry if I kissed you again?"

"You gave me an empty gun?"

"Only virgins can catch unicorns, isn't that right?"

"Touchy, aren't you?"

"Do you have the day off tomorrow?"

"How do you know where I live?"

"Is of this making sense to you?"

"What are you going to do with yourself today?"

"Do you remember the name of every woman you've slept with?"

"I assume I can look forward to another visit in the near future?"

"You still don't approve of my lifestyle, do you?"

"Are you impressed yet?"

"Are you a member of the club?"

[salsedinepicta]

Draw the brother, and now the sister: Maren Hawke, repressed mage extraordinaire and fan of political scheming.

Plus some teenage angst:

[skeletalheartattack]

hi I like gelato a lot

[pzyii]

Take some traditional nat doodles feat my unintelligible handwriting and a Daemon

Some notes on stuff under cut

Nats Daemon isn't actually settled because of something the red room did (an unsettled Daemon is effective for multiple reasons, fighting, going undercover, and of course. Isolating the widows from the rest of the world. They're Different. )

She'd pretend it was though because Fitting In. And Being Normal. And would go with a snake cause it fits and can be used in combat (idk if it'd be a THAT big snake but yk)

She keeps pretending it's settled through Avengers 1 (clint knows, as well as some other shield members, fury, Maria, coulson). Steve would find out about it in CAtWS because she gets knocked unconscious and her Daemon would also instinctively change for safety when they get bombed in the bunker.

The avengers find out in AOU because it changed when she's put under Wanda's spell and since she's so Out Of It and Unaware until she gets to the Barton's everyone sees it being yk. A Not Snake.

[dizzying-faust]

If I could tell Puzzles fans the same way I tell [REDACTED] fans...

Just because a character has a tragic/sympathetic reasons for acting like what they are, doesn't mean they should be instantly redeemed nor that the people they hurt should instantly forgive them.

And I'm speaking as said Puzzles fan.

[soft-serve-soymilk]

idk why my brain is suddenly hung up on torturing dism but i'm here for his fraught and tortured questions :)

[chussyracing]

which livery are you most excited for?

ferrari since it's my one true love and always has been (also because last year's launch was the best ever launch i have ever seen from any team ever, so the expectations are set high). other than that i'm curious about williams, because i love the blue color and i'm a SUCKER for the duracell sponsorship part of ther livery (they better keep it)

[sexynetra]

@starrsbby tagged me in this post about 3 songs based on someone (or songs that make me think of them? I don’t remember fully) 💕 in following with the trends, I’m basing them off of my best friend @smorgana (happy birthday bbg you are the best thing that’s happened to my life our friendship is my cornerstone if u weren’t dating Ethan id marry u probably) 💕

Happy birthday again to my #1 ride or die, this post isn’t your real present but it’s a great coincidence that I forgot to make it for like 3 days and it fell on today :)

I’m gonna tag a few of my faves to do this too (if you want to) 💕

@anarciax3 @lady-assnali @saccadiic

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[todayisafridaynight]

We’re having an emergency meeting to discuss Chris Johnson and the whitest name ever

absolutely fitting for our white man now innit

[kodokugumon]

Okay I'm gonna say it. Are you guys ready. Nightheart wishes he had what breezepelt has

[maxmayfieldirl]

The discourse about being able to ship willel takes me back like. Fucking 5 years to the big debate on whether or not you could ship Sal and Larry because they were stepbrothers by episode 4 lmaoooo