#k golf shirt

[del-stars]

Now I’m curious. Which current nepo-baby would match with the marauders?

i believe this ask is inspired by this post from @s3raphinaa !!

based purely on vibes and things that celebrity said one time:

stretching the definition of current to say that sirius black is y2k paris hilton/kim k. just famous for no particular reason and proud of it. people ask him why he's famous and he'll say something along the lines of i'm pretty, everyone wants to be me, etc. etc. he definitely also leaked his own sex tape

james gives me lily-rose depp vibes very specifically for that quote where she's like 'i actually work really hard so calling me a nepo baby is really unfair.' just positively tone-deaf. he definitely does something with his nepotism like acting or music, but he's just far too out of touch to realise that it's because his parents are globally famous

for no particular reason i am saying remus is maya hawke. does pretty decent for himself, definitely booked and busy. like he's trying to make his own money so he is clocked in, but definitely recognises/acknowledges that a lot of his opportunities are due to nepotism

peter is clairo. for the reaction that i'm sure some people just had: what, she's a nepo baby? peter is a grand-slam indie bedroom pop artist, captures the feeling of being the isolated, awkward kid in a way that the internet just devours, but yes, his dad owns top golf

marlene is zoe kravitz. daughter of two really fucking cool parents who ended up also being really fucking cool in her own right. definite trendsetter, fashion icon, and stunningly gorgeous but that's just my opinion

lily and her sister are elle and dakota fanning, that sort of sibling nepotism. petunia gets famous as a child actor, when lily is much younger, and then lily grows up and eventually becomes more beloved than her. you see the parallels here

regulus. regulus is bella hadid. definitely got where he is because of his head start in life, but also really good at what he does, and also we are all so sorry about your mom. the constant comparisons to his sibling, their distance in the public eye, and the superseding parental fame by just staying booked and being iconic.

pandora and evan are willow and jaden. i dont know if i need to explain this at length, they just are. crazily famous parents, but they strike out on their own and do a little bit of everything

barty is hailey bieber very specifically when she wore that 'nepo baby' t-shirt, but it goes over much better when he does it. just does not give a fuck. yes, he's a nepo baby, he only sort-of works, but he's definitely got his own very intense fanbase

[vividwritinglove]

NSFW alphabet - Lando Norris

700 celebration 🎉

Thank you, you lovely crazy people ♥️

This was requested quite a lot and I started writing it a while ago, but now I was finally able to finish it. Hope you enjoy it 🤓

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Lando has a thing for everything to be clean - so he always makes sure that after a session you and him getting cleaned up like taking a shower or having a bath together.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite part of/on his body, are his hands and his hair. driving one of the fastest car of the world, playing golf or even for playing video games - he has pretty skilled fingers and big hands. he is also very proud of his locks and loves it when you are stroking his hair and giving him a head massage.

Lando loves your tits - who would have thought? in overall he just loves sucking on your nipples and kneading your tits to stimulate you.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

inside you or on your tits - he just really loves the view, when his cum is dripping down in between your tits.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he is known for being addicted to milk and also received a breastfeeding pump once from his secret Santa aka Alex Albon.

the thought, that you were able to feed your baby one day with your own "milk”, fascinates him. and to be honest, he would like to taste it himself.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Lando is young - but super eager to learn and wants to experience so much. he needs a little confidence push here and there from you.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

spooning & titjob

Lando loves being the big spoon. it gives him the feeling to be your guardian and this gives him extra confidence. when he adjusts your upper leg and holding it at a certain angle, his thrusts meet your g spot perfectly. also he loves to grab your boobs in this position, pulling you closer to his chest and leaving hickeys on your neck.

since you knew that Lando was so fixed on your boobs, you tried something new and instead of giving him a blowjob, you tried a titjob. he loved it! from that moment on, this became something in your sex routine.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

we’re talking about Lando?! goofy should be his middle name. actually it’s your nick name for him. you two are always joking around - even when having sex.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Lando is completely shaved!

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

in the beginning of each of your sessions, Lando seems a little tense, because he wants to do you right and especially make you cum. after a few moments, he relaxes and performs even better so both of you enjoy the sexy time.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

you haven’t seen Lando in 3 weeks - there were 2 race weekend after each other and on the free weekend before, you attended a wedding without him. since you and him were dating just recently, both of you are horny as fuck for each other. finally you were able to see him, but Lando had planned a live stream the same time you would arrive at his apartment in Monaco.

of course you weren’t happy about that, but still horny - so was Lando.

you teased him off camera, by drinking from your can with a straw and imitating to suck his dick. you also flashed him and did a little striptease. Lando really needed to hold it in and tried to put up a good front. he lost every single game and had to end the stream about half an hour earlier, as you were now under the table, freeing his already hard cock from his pants and boxers. after he ended the stream, he took of his shirt and threw it over the camera, just to be sure. that was your sign to start jerking him off.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

submissive & praising

he likes it when you take control and take him as you need him. you can also be a little rougher. nothing is more important to him than satisfying your needs. and if you praise him for it, it is the purest satisfaction for him. Lando may have a bit of a fuckboy image, but after all, he's a good boy for you.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

usually you two have sex in bed or on the sofa, sometimes in the shower - but Lando would like to try public sex.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

for Lando it doesn’t need much - he still needs to learn how to control himself. mostly in public. whenever you are around and wearing some tight clothes.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that has to do with pain. yes he likes it rough, but he would never want to hurt you and is therefore not a fan of spanking or choking.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lando's eating out skills need some improvement, but he's so willing to learn so you'll teach him how you like it best. he is a quick learner.

contrary to your blow job skills. especially on days when he is not feeling well, you can always cheer him up with that and it’s also the quickest way to make him cum.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

most of the time your sessions are fast and rough. your desire for each other is so big, that you can almost never restrain yourselves. however, as time goes by, you discover passionate sex for yourselves and take more time for it.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

anywhere and anytime..

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Lando loves new things and variety. you can see that in his many hobbies. but, he always needs the necessary impulse from you to actually try something new or different. he doesn't want to be too brash and make you feel uncomfortable.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he has the greatest stamina imaginable! it has also happened before, that you couldn't take it anymore after several rounds and had to hold him back. he can be really insatiable, because he is so crazy about you.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

toys are still new for him, so he is relatively restrained towards them. however, he enjoys it more often when you satisfy yourself with them in front of him. watching you do it on your own, increases his pleasure immensely.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

Lando is a tease in person. but in fact he's just playing and when it gets down to business, he's quite amazed at how wet you already are and what effect his cheekiness has on you.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he is a little insecure when it comes to being loud during sex. therefore, he is usually a little quieter and prefers to listen to your moans. he is surprised every time you tell him how much you like to hear him moan and that he should always do this while fucking you.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Lando's latest passion is photography and there is nothing better for him than photographing you.

you're in the middle of a heavy make-out session, as you notice his camera on the nightstand.

"Wait." you murmur into his mouth, breaking the hot kiss between the two of you. you reach for the camera and hand it to him. astonished he looks at it and when he lifts his gaze again, you have already taken off your bra and covered your breasts with your hands. lasciviously you pose for him - Lando understands immediately and turns on the camera.

you give him some more poses and strip for him. he really gets into the act to capture the best angles of you and can't stop grinning. he shoots another picture of you, as you look directly into the camera lens and take his thumb in your mouth to suck on it.

quickly he puts his camera aside and pinned you down on the mattress. he got rid of his boxers and enters you without warning. during sex, you grab the camera once more and thanks to the small rotating monitor, you can shoot some more snapshots while you two are in action. some of them were blurry, but that's what made it a little more seductive and Lando had the best memory of you whenever you couldn't accompany him to a race.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lando is above average.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he has the highest sex drive there’s ever been - get ready for some action.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

because of complete exhaustion, you both always fall asleep very quickly.

[ejzah]

A/N: Happy Father’s Day to all my US fathers out there and a happy Sunday to everyone else.

***

The Handprints of My Heart

When Kensi and Deeks first got together, she’d almost dreaded the holidays. She’d never been very good at gift giving or decorating and usually had to work through them. Five years into their marriage, and three kids later, she actually approached holidays with anticipation.

With that in mind, Kensi and Rosa had spent a good amount of time brainstorming Father’s Day presents for this year. After a lot of scrolling Amazon, Etsy, and craft sites—Rosa had given an admirable argument for getting Deeks a new puppy, but Kensi ultimately vetoed that suggestion—they had a nice collection of gift ideas.

Today, while Deeks went for his daily run, they were making Kensi’s favorite gift.

She’d picked up a large canvas and paints from the craft store for Rosa to decorate. She’d painted a large heart in the center and and the topic, the words “These Hands Hold Something Special, to the Most Loved Dad and Husband”. Surrounding the heart, the would stamp imprints of each other their hands.

It was admittedly a little cheesy, but Kensi thought Deeks would love the sentimental aspects. Not to mention, Caleb and Sophia’s six-month-old handprints preserved for eternity.

“Do you think we’ll have enough time to get it all done?” Rosa asked as she poured paint into little trays, pausing to turn and look for over her shoulder in Kensi’s direction.

Kensi adjusted her shirt, having just finished nursing Sophia. She set her on the carpet amidst a pile of soft blocks to play with Caleb.

“I think so,” Kensi decided, surveying their supplies.

“What if he comes back early?” Rosa worried at her thumbnail.

“He almost always runs for at least an and hour. And, just in case he should decide to come back early, I asked him to grab a couple things from the store. That should give us plenty of time to finish and stash it at Roberta’s.”

Nodding, Rosa scooped Caleb up, and held him over the table, placing one of his hands in a light blue paint.

“Ok, I’ve got he’s ready,” she said, holding Caleb’s arm out at an awkward angle so there was no chance for it to come in contact with the rest of his body or hers. “No, mijo, don’t grab the paint!

“Geeg!” Caleb said in protest, kicking his legs out as he made another grab for the tray of paint.

“No, you cannot cover yourself in paint,” Rosa told him with mock severity, and he giggled, grabbing a handful of her hair in his free fist. Shaking her head, Rosa carried him over to the large square of canvas on the table.

Kensi took his hand and carefully unfolded it. Somehow between the two of them, they managed to press it to the canvas without too much difficulty.

Down on the floor, Sophia made an inquiring sound, having scooted herself across the floor. She tugged insistently on Kensi’s pants.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be next,” Kensi told her, bending to caress her soft honey blonde curls before she turned her attention back to Rosa and Caleb. He was now attempting to taste his paint coated fingers . “Ok, quick do his other hand.”

They followed the same process three more times—Sophia did manage to smear blue paint through her hair. Once they’d thoroughly cleaned the twins’ hands, they each chose a different shade of blue for their own handprints.

When it was done, Kensi took a step back and surveyed the results critically. It had a definite handmade look to it and a few extra paint splatters thanks to Caleb’s efforts, but somehow that made it even better.

“It’s perfect,” she decided.

***

“Mm, this is the perfect day,” Deeks sighed, brushing his nose against Sophia’s soft cheek. She made a happy little sound, and grabbed at his beard with both hands. Not to be outdone by his sister, Caleb sank his little fingers into Deeks’ hair.

Kensi and Rosa watched from the loveseat with twin smiles as the three snuggled up on one chair together.

“You know, most dads would want to go golfing or ,I don’t know, a massage or something for Father’s Day’s,” she teased.

“What, and miss out on celebrating with my four favorite people?” Deeks asked. He made a dismissive sound. “This is way better.” He tweaked Caleb’s big toe. “Am I right, kiddo?” Caleb nodded seriously in response. “Thanks for everything today. Breakfast and lunch were delicious and those surfboards ornaments are going to good use.”

“Well, there’s one more thing,” Rosa said with a grin as she retrieved a large bag from behind the loveseat.

“Another gift?” Arching an eyebrow, Deeks accepted the bag, giving it a slight shake. “Do you have any idea what this is?” He addressed that question to the twins, who giggled, somehow managing to look mischievous.

Kensi leaned forward in anticipation as he shifted the babies to free his other arm, and started pulling out the many bunches of tissue paper she and Rosa had used to cushion their masterpiece. When Deeks pulled out the canvas, his brow furrowed for a second, then almost immediately softened, and he licked his lower lip, shaking his head slightly.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were suspiciously shiny.

“Kensi, Rosa, this is beautiful,” he murmured. “Come here.”

They came at him from either side, enveloping him in a hug.

“I know it’s a little silly,” Kensi apologized, when they pulled back.

“No.” He laughed, rubbing at his eyes. ��No, this is perfect. It’s going straight in my office. I love it. Thank you.”

“Happy Father’s Day,” Rosa said, kissing his temple. “From all of us.”

***

A/N: Enjoy the fluff!

[stardustbarbarians]

Kneel Down Ye Sinners

A Samuel Kiszka / Daniel Wagner fic

Summary: Daniel has a bad round of golf... and Sam is bored.

Tags: spanking, oral, unprotected sex, literally just smut idk what else to say... so MDNI!

Words: 2.3 k

A/N: This has been written in my drafts for over a year and I just got around to polishing it up. Anyway, as usual, this is dedicated to @ofthecaravel because when is it not. (Also pspspspspsps @runwayblues) Title taken from Wild Side by Motley Crue (I swear I don't listen to them that much). Anyway, and as always, enjoy!!

+++

"God, that was awful!" Daniel yelled as he stormed into the house, throwing his baseball hat into the wall and kicking off his slides. They made a subdued smack as they landed onto the floor near the entrance. 

"How was golf?" Sam called out for his spot in the living room, flipping through channels mindlessly. He was bored out of his skull, having already finished all the chores he wanted to do this weekend and really not all in the mood to play any of his instruments. 

"I shot in the 90s! I haven't gotten a score like that since high school!!" The golfer raged, now pacing in front of the couch Sam was on. He had to admit, Daniel was hot when he was mad. He'd get this set in his jaw that defined it more and this look in his eyes that reminded Sam of all the times he was pinned underneath Daniel. 

Oh, thought Sam, now there’s an idea 

"Oh, baby, that's rough," Sam patronized, his voice dripping in manufactured sympathy. He threw the remote down, not needing the tv anymore. His entertainment had arrived.

Though, he felt his heart skip a beat when that rage fueled gaze was cast onto him. His skin began to prickle with goosebumps as Daniel stopped in his tracks, one of Danny's eyebrows cocking up. He felt his blood simultaneously freeze and boil beneath his skin at that look. 

"You think you can do better, Samuel?" His tone was even and dangerous, a low grumble in his chest. 

Sam had to suppress a shiver at the words. He was diving head-first into the deep end and he knew the risks. 

"No… but you should've" Sam retorted, his bratty streak always strong. He knew he was in trouble the moment Daniel crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles very visible under the pliant fabric of his golf shirt. 

"You've got quite the mouth on you. Don't you, princess?"

At the pet name, Sam visibly shivered, unable to suppress this one. That name was reserved for the moments when it was about to get nasty. And the way Daniel was glaring at Sam? It was about to get very, very nasty. 

"And what about it, big loser?" The bassist really hammered the last nail in the coffin with the smirk and raised eyebrow he sent Danny’s way. 

That's what finally set Daniel off.

His arms dropped to his sides, hands balling into fist. Sam watched it happen in rapt fascination, feeling just the tiniest twinge of fear in his heart. However, it was drowned out by the excitement flooding his veins at knowing just how much he had successfully riled up Daniel. 

"On your knees.”

Sam was not expecting that of all things for Danny to say. He felt his eyes get big as he swallowed thickly. That fear had turned into surprise, his heart fluttering inside his ribs. He knew where this was going, however he still dumbly asked: "W-what?"

"Get on your knees. Right now, princess," Daniel growled, his teeth clenched as he spoke. 

Doing as he was told, Sam slipped off the couch and stood on his knees, his eyes gazing up at Daniel. This was far from the first time Sam had viewed Daniel from this vantage point; it certainly would not be the last, either. At least, not if Sam had any say in it.

"What have I told you about that mouth of yours, princess?" Daniel approached Sam, only a few inches away from him. Danny leaned down just enough so that Sam didn’t strain his optic nerve to look at him, but Daniel still loomed above him. Sam was suddenly reminded of devotees gazing up at their gods on bended knee, feeling a sense of understanding of their blind devotion at that moment. 

"That it's only useful wrapped around your cock," Samuel answered, stealing a glance down at the other man's crotch directly in front of him. He felt a rush of saliva at the mere memory of the weight of it on his tongue, having to swallow it down so that he wouldn’t drool. 

Daniel hummed in approval, his hand coming to pet Sam's hair. Sam is only mildly ashamed to admit he leaned into it like a cat. 

"That's right, pretty boy," Danny used his other hand to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, leaving them on and only freeing his cock, "now put it to good use."

Knowing when to obey, Sam immediately wrapped his lips around the tip of Danny's dick. The growl that slipped past the golfer's lips made Sam's own dick twitch inside his jeans, a whimper escaping his lips.

Sam wasted no time bobbing his head up and down the length of Daniel's cock, hollowing out his cheeks and laying his tongue flat. The long, drawn out moan that escaped from the back of Danny’s throat was music to Sam’s ears. When he looked up at Danny through his lashes, he’d noticed that the drummer’s head had tipped back, his eyes pinched closed as he basked in the pleasure Sam was imparting onto him. 

It wasn't long before Daniel grabbed the top of Sam's hair and began setting his own pace, Sam gagging as the other man's cock hit the back of his throat particularly aggressively. But Sammy took it all in stride, only mildly disgusted when the extra spit that flooded his mouth began dripping down his chin. At least Danny would find it hot that Sam now looked all ruined. 

Tears fell from his eyes right before Daniel pulled Sam off of him, a string of saliva connecting them as he looked at Daniel with the most lust filled gaze. His eyes half lidded as he panted in order to catch his breath, barely able to breathe around Danny’s girth.  

"Take off your clothes, whore," Daniel commanded, his voice rough but still authoritative. He had tilted his head forward in order to look down at Sam. 

"Awww, Danny boy's a wreck 'cause of little ol' me," Sam taunted, his voice even more of a mess than Danny's. 

Daniel cocked his eyebrow once again, Sam's smirk growing at the reaction he was able to pull from Daniel. However, it quickly fell from his face at what the drummer stated next. 

"Clothes off. Get on the coffee table. On your hands and knees.”

Sam's breath caught in this throat, finding himself obeying the commands at the deep, rumbling tone Daniel employed. Once he was stark naked, Sam climbed up onto the wooden coffee table and rested on his hands and knees just as he was told. A twinge of embarrassment made his face pink, overly aware of the heavy staring from Daniel. 

"I told you to only use that pretty mouth of yours for sucking, princess. Now it's gotten you into deep trouble," Danny told Sam, his voice deep and guttural. 

Sam looked over his shoulder to see Daniel sliding his belt out of his pant loops, gathering the white leather in his hand; the appendage bulging with veins underneath tanned, practiced, and calloused skin. 

The bassist involuntarily whined as he put together what was about to happen. Yeah, he was in deep trouble. Like, the deepest fucking layer of trouble he could possibly be in- well… maybe not. There was one time that Sam had continued to mouth off even after this stage and… well… Sam was pretty sure they’d have to move this little shindig to their bedroom to get the rope if he pushed his luck any further. 

Sam gripped the edge of the table in his hands as a sharp snap of leather came down onto his ass, a yelp leaving his throat. He didn’t hurt. Far from it, in fact. The noise was one of surprise, more than anything else. 

He felt a warm, calloused hand smooth over the spot that was just struck before it remained planted on the opposite cheek. Another blow came, the sound just as loud as the belt made contact with Sam's skin. This time, however, instead of a yelp in surprise Sam let out a needy whine as the pleasure overruled the pain. 

Daniel kept going, raining down blow after blow. His fingers dug into the skin of Sam's ass as his moans became needier and needier. Samuel was certain his ass was becoming bright red. But he wanted Danny to keep going, to allow the belt and his digging fingers to leave bruises that would stain the skin there for days; to serve as a reminder for who he belonged to and who belonged to him.

With another snap of the belt, Sam became a waterfall of incoherent pleas. "Oh, please, please, PLEASE, Daniel! I need more fuck- FUCK! I need more,  you don't understand how much I need- oh my god please FUCK!"

A pleased hum sounded from the drummer. "Look who finally learned how to run their mouth properly.” 

Without any warning, Daniel flipped Sam so his back was pressed against the coffee table. Sam's brow was knit as he pleaded up at Daniel, his lips pouting slightly. 

"God, fuck! You don't know how easy you are to fucking need with a face like that!" Daniel lost his composure momentarily after gazing upon the visage of Samuel fully exposed and begging him for anything Danny was willing to give him. It was enough to break any man, even one perceived as a god. 

Throwing the belt to the side with a loud clatter, Daniel pressed his lips into Sam's; sudden and aggressively. Sammy's hands immediately grabbed at Danny's shirt, trying his best to rip it off. He was eventually successful as the fabric tore underneath his hands with a clamorous noise. Daniel was surprised, to say the least; marveling at what Sam had just accomplished. 

"You're gonna pay for that, princess." And just like that, Daniel was back. Though, there was no missing the awe hidden just beneath that authoritative growl. 

"Hurry up and give me my punishment, Danny. I've been waiting for it this whole damn time,” Sam impatiently demanded, also falling back into his role within the blink of an eye. He wouldn't be tamed so easily. It was more fun for both of them that way. 

Opening the drawer next to Sam’s head and popping open the bottle of lube with his thumb, Daniel glared down at Sam. "Watch your fucking mouth."

Before Sam could even say anything, Daniel was plunging his  lube covered fingers into him. With an unfettered scream, Sam's eyes rolled into the back of his head as his back arched up off the table. Danny played Sam like a violin, using his fingers to cause Sam to make all the noises he wanted him to. 

Just as quickly as they had been shoved into Sam, Daniel pulled them out much to the bassist's dissatisfaction. He made his disapproval known, huffing out loudly. "That wasn't even close to being enough."

Kicking his boxers off, Danny's hand came down hard onto the side of Sam's right thigh.

"I think your next lesson will be one of patience, princess," Daniel threatened before squirting lube onto both of his hands before tossing the bottle back into the drawer. 

Using his left hand, Daniel stroked his own cock. His right hand came to wrap around Sam's aching dick, a pathetic wail ripping out of his throat at the contact. He'd never been so thankful over the fact that Daniel was ambidextrous in his entire life. Truly, he’d have to write him a card or something for him when this was all said and done. 

Daniel's hand never left Sam's dick as he plunged his cock into Sam, all eight, well endowed inches into Sam. All of the other noises Sammy had made up to this point had been absolutely nothing compared to the toe-curling scream he let out as

Daniel pushed himself in. Sam's vision was beginning to white out in pure pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

His hands gripped the sides of the table for dear life as his back arched, his toes curling involuntarily as the feeling of Danny throbbing inside of him. It was driving him insane, the feeling of it being too much, yet not enough all at once. 

It wasn't until Daniel started thrusting that Sam really lost control of himself. He became a mess of pleading and screaming out Daniel's name like a satanic and perverted prayer. 

"Daddy please - fuck, please!!"

Sam cried out after Danny managed to nail his prostate, his vision fully whiting out.

Daniel, knowing exactly what he had just accomplished, shifted his thrusting to focus all his attention there. Samuel's brain short circuited, his mouth permanently hanging open as he remained silent, all brain function stopping. 

Sam gave no warning before cum began spurting out of his cock, a final pathetic cry ripping out of him as he painted himself in white. It was a surprise to even Sam. But, hitting your g-spot over and over to the point of abusing it would surprise anyone, he guessed. 

Daniel was soon to follow, pulling out and pumping his cock before he also covered Sam's chest in cum. They were both out of breath, sweat covering every inch of their skin. Danny had bent over at the waist, his arms catching his fall and planting on either side of Sam’s head. Looming above Sam once more, the bassist had never felt more comfortable in his life. He’d happily perish in this spot if it meant he got to spend his final heartbeats  between Daniel’s arms. 

"You should play bad rounds of golf more often," Sam finally posited, a stupid smile on his face as he gazed up at Daniel. 

The drummer laughed, caught by surprise. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, princess?"

Samuel gulped at the pet name usage. However, that previous edge had vanished from his voice. 

Impossibly, he felt his dick twitch at the combination of seeing Daniel covered in sweat and cum while panting heavily. And when he looked back into those hazel brown and green eyes and saw nothing but amusement, adoration, and satisfaction, Sam knew that it was, in fact, he was where he belonged. 

+++

Tag List:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @writingcold @tearsofbri @gretasmokerising @streamofstardust @lunaindigoraven @jakeydoesit @tripthelightfandomtastic @sunfl0wer-power @wingedgardener2000 @gretavanbitches @teddiie @gardensGateDaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @sammysprincess @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @Gabyvanfleet @Sarakay-gvf @Mamalikes-gvf @josh-iamyour-mama @st4rdust-ch0rds @pr41sethemoon @fallonfatality @earthlysorrows @jessicafg03 @rossy1080 @hippievanfleet @spark-my-nature @hayley1623 @schleeble @gretavanflipflop

[barbreypilled]

Randomly I’m obsessed w subway au Walda I just know she’s decorating the shit out of sugar daddy Roose’s house with the weirdest nonsense HomeSense can offer. She is trying to have a stepmom relationship w Domeric but he’s so put off by the fact that she’s only 12 years older than him. She definitely smells amazing all the time but it can be distracting when she’s scraping ppls teeth (she’s a dental hygienist) Her favourite show is The Good Place and she watches it with a glass of wine after work and laughs loud as hell. She’s kind of obsessed w Barb because she’s one of those white ladies who is very excited to have a native friend (Barb considers her to be something closer to furniture but deals with her because she makes good sangria and is fun to Observe) and always sends her pictures of powwow babies on fb with an accompanying message to the effect of ‘happy Monday queen rise and grind god bless’ and Barb messages back ‘k’. She is allergic to rutabaga. She gets themed nails for every holiday including fake ones like National Pickle Day or shit like that. She owns this shirt and once wore it to church on a bet and her pastor found it funny

she sings loud as hell in church she is learning Italian on Duolingo her favourite animal is the humble armadillo Roose is completely wrapped around her finger and likes when she ties him up but sometimes she’ll forget and go downstairs to watch The Good Place and he’s still tied up but he doesn’t care because his hot 30 year old wife can do no wrong. she’s a natural blonde but dyes her hair that weird soccer mom magentaish red. She thinks food trucks are such a fun idea but has hated everything she’s ever purchased from a food truck one time she got tacos from a food truck and got food poisoning. she’s weirdly good at golf to the point where Roose dreads golfing with her because like why are u so good at this you’ve done it 3 times. same w pinball and fishing

[radicaledward55]

i know i said i would post the Reiner fic tonight but imma just tell you what sports i feel like the aot men would play 🤭

Okay so we’re gonna start off with Reiner and like i’ve said before this beefy man definitely would play football like i can’t picture him playing anything else fr

K moving on I feel like Eren would play basketball like i definitely see him as like Ja morant

Okay so Armin i honestly don’t really see him as the athletic type but he definitely gives off my dad owns a country club so he plays golf like i’m picturing him in the white pants peach polo shirt with the white sweater around his neck

So jean and connie for sure give off baseball boy ESPECIALLY connie like ik he is wearing chains 100% of the time like one wit his and your name on it shi he probably wears grills to

anyways that’s all i’m writing for rn but you can message me with characters you want me to do next

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: Buck is not C&K’s baby daddy but he is Chris’ second dad

In 6x10 “In a Flash”, while Buck was at Maddie’s and Chimney’s new house, he told his parents (along with everyone else in the room), “I’m the donor, Connor is the father!”  He also told them it’s a boy but at this point, Buck being the biological contributor is irrelevant because Buck’s NOT Connor and Kameron’s baby daddy.

Buck’s already a father, he’s been one for 5 years and the color of the shirt he wore in that scene proves who his son is.

Christopher Diaz is Buck’s son and Buck is his second dad.

The Buckley-Diaz Family has been wearing different shades of blue a lot since 5x18 “Starting Over” and Buck primarily wore light and baby blue during 6A but the shirt he wore in 6x10 was navy-blue. Eddie wore a lot of navy-blue in 6A and Chris wore a combination of both shades (light and navy-blue) to coincide with the shades both of his dads primarily wore.

The shirts Buck and Chris wore in 6x1 “Let the Games Begin” during their family dinner were a lighter shade of blue and included both white and grey while Eddie’s shirt was tan which is his signature family color (a shade of brown).

Since the end of 6A, the Buckley-Diaz Family have all been or will be wearing navy-blue shirts which could mean Buck and Eddie are getting even closer to becoming a CANON couple.

In 6x9 “Red Flag” Eddie wore a navy-blue jacket, a tan t-shirt (his signature color) and some blue jeans while he slept on his family’s navy-blue couch.

In 6x10 “In a Flash” Buck wore a navy-blue button-down shirt with a black t-shirt underneath it.

In 6x11 “In Another Life” Chris will be wearing a navy-blue golf shirt with a white collar.

Eddie is Chris’ biological father and Buck is Chris’ second dad!

Full stop!

The color navy-blue is being worn by all the Buckley-Diaz Family members and it’s happening more often. Within three episodes, all three of them have worn or will wear their family’s signature color of navy-blue and Chris will be wearing it when he’s sitting at Buck’s bedside while Buck is in a coma.

All three of them wearing navy-blue is significant and it means something. Does it mean Buck and Eddie are even closer to becoming a CANON couple than they’ve ever been before?  Only the showrunner(s), writers and producers know the answer to that question.

[fishnets-fingers]

Six Months - Part Twenty Two

Summary - Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together?

PAIRING - camboy!harry x indian!oc

a/n - i’d like to apologise for the impromptu two month break. work was hectic and my bosses are grade a pricks. things are slowly starting to wind down. this part took a long time to write with all the angst but i hope it’s readable. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome.  happy reading!

Word Count - 11.5 k

Warnings - angst cental, fluff, allusions to smut.

Masterpost (find previous parts here)

Layla does not know how long she can go on like this. She is  currently behind Earl’s stall at the farmer’s market, where he’s selling his produce and flowers. The slanting rays of the afternoon light, permeate through the thin petals of the dahlias, making the pointed edges seem luminous. It was unusually busy, the marketplace, almost all of Earl’s produce were sold out. Her eyes were fixed on the task at hand - wrapping a sheet of newspaper around a bouquet of aster and dahlias. But her body is hyper aware of the boy standing at the other end of the stall, longing for him to glance her way but he was busy counting money to give to the man for whom she was putting the flowers together. 

“Here you go,” Layla smiles, handing him the bouquet.

The man thanks her and heads on and she shoots a quick glance in Harry’s direction. She’s met with the broad expanse of his back clad in a black t-shirt, hair tousled with a pair of glasses tucked behind his ear, and black skinny jeans. He’s talking to Earl, pointing to something on his phone. She sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears, grateful for her Aunt who insisted on getting her a pair of fleece lined tights. The crisp autumn air does not make her quiver, like it used to. She’s still getting used to layering for the cold, but she thought she did a great job with her outfit. Much better than the one she sleepily pulled together this morning for golf, an outfit that made her uncle howl at the green.

She was even looking forward to the compliment when she walked out the door. She was wearing her white tennis skirt, with the fleece lined tights, doc marten loafers, her thrifted jumper and a faux leather jacket that she flicked from Abi’s closet. But Harry had stepped out with a surly look in his eyes, doing nothing but giving her a curt nod and he’d remained like that till now. She chalked it up to a bad day. Everyone had those days, even if he was chipper that morning. Hoping to lighten his mood Layla jabbered about what happened in golf and the nosey question a student asked about the two of them; she received nothing but apathetic nods and muted hums. 

That’s how it started then it snowballed into completely pretending like she doesn’t exist until now. He didn’t meet her eyes and went out of his way to put space between the two of them. Gone was the warm touchy, kissy boyfriend and in his place stood this lanky frigid boy - who looked like he didn’t want anything to do with her. It was someone pressed a button that bought a sledgehammer that shattered Harry’s lavender haze. 

Maybe he realised loving you way too much of a burden, she shakes her head, trying to dispel her thoughts.

“Hey,um, I’m gonna go pick up some stuff and head over to yours to get a head start on dinner,” Layla informs the two who were transfixed at something on Harry’s phone, hiking her bag up her shoulder. THe gang was congregating at Earl’s for dinner today.

“You’re sure? We’ll be done in a few more hours,” Earl tells, looking at her through the rim of his glasses; she was picking away at a fray thread on her tote bag.

“Positive.” She smiles at him. 

“Here, take this then,” Earl hands over the keys to his car. “I don’t want you lugging over that cast iron all the way home.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, putting the key in her pocket, shuffling over to the other side. It doesn't go unnoticed that Harry immediately steps away from her when she brushes past the two, making her frown. Since when does he pass up the opportunity?

////

Layla had managed to make quite a spread. A creole potato salad, sweet chilli halloumi with cashew slaw, and Ribollita . Her Uncle and Aunty were setting up the dining room, Anne and Earl were somewhere in the house and Harry was busy fiddling with Earl’s record player in the living room. Layla’s slumped behind the kitchen island waiting for the stuffed butternut squash to finish in the oven, while lazily flicking through Earl’s wife’s recipe book. There were so many pages that were blank towards the end. She wonders what she would have filled them with had she had more time. 

The ding of the oven, pulls her attention and not before long, she’s slipping on some mitts to take out the pan, to pull out the butternut squash she picked out in the farmer’s market. She notices Harry’s wallet peeking out from his tote - abandoned on the kitchen island - as she sets the hot utensil down. 

Maybe if I put the tickets in there? Maybe the surprise would make him perk up and stop being surly, she ponders. She looks up at him, sitting on the floor hunched over the turntable with his hair pushed back with the red silk bandana she got him from New Orleans. He was fixated on the red light that was on the side of the circular spinning table, as he was tuning something to help adjust the pitch. She takes it as an opportunity to  quickly pull out the black Gucci wallet and flip it open.

The image in his photo pocket makes her want to run over and tackle him in a giant hug. He’d put a picture of her in his wallet. He went out of his way to print a wallet sized picture and slotted it in there. Important enough for his wallet, it makes her smile. It was the picture he took on the day of Abi’s flower braiding ceremony - the two of them on her bed smiling into the kiss, dimples on display, her hands cupped around his face, lips pouring affection into each other. She runs her fingers on the laminate that protected the image inside, almost like she was checking to see if it would disintegrate, like she needed to make sure that the boy who was currently icy towards her all day was the same one who did this. She notices him move from the corner of her eye, making her swiftly dig into the pocket of her black faux leather jacket, slot the two fall carnival tickets she bought at the market behind his dollar bills and discretely slip it inside the tote.

She pretends to look for something in the cabinets as he stalks towards the kitchen, as he swings open the door of the refrigerator. 

“Harry,” she turns to face him, fighting the urge to control the simper that stretches across her face. “I made ribollita.”

The corners of her mouth droops when he barely looks at her, staring pointedly at the glass as he pours in the pineapple watermelon  big boy soda Earl has stocked up.

Despite not being acknowledged, she continues, “I remember you telling me about your final night in Tuscany where you, Mitch, and Sarah were so drunk and how you all stumbled into this dodgy looking place run by an elderly couple at midnight. And how that ribollita was the best you’ve ever had.” He even told her that if he ever got a chance to take her anywhere in the world, he’d fly her out to Anghiari and trudge up the steps of the town, wine drunk with interlinked hands under the starry Italian skies. “I found this recipe on YouTube by some nonna. Took a while to make it; hope it tastes -”

“Whatever,” he says quietly, shrugging his shoulders, walking over to the dining room with the glass of green liquid on one hand and the squash on the other with the dish towel.

“Prick,” she mutters, shooting daggers on his back.

////

Hushed voices float from the end of the hall, it had to be Anne and Earl. Layla walks quietly towards the partially closed door.

“I would not recommend it, Earl,” Anne says, looking at a report.

“You’re being overly cautious,” he chuckles, adjusting the rim of his glasses, so they sit higher up the bridge of his nose.

Layla tiptoes, hoping the wood of the floor does not creak, closer to the door. Angling herself so most of her body is hidden behind the white door.

“Everyone has headaches,” he says, popping an ibuprofen in his mouth.

“Not everyone had a stent placed on their heart three years ago. You’re feeling faint often, yeah?”

“It happened a couple of times,” Earl answers.

“Any fevers? Chills? Body pain?” Anne enquires.

Earl shakes his head. “I think you’re being overly cautious, Anne.”

“I still want you to come into the hospital. I think it’s best to do a cardiac cath, and run some bloodwork. I think Dr. Siegelbaum would also agree,” she states firmly.

Layla knocks - in hopes that she could join in her conversation so she can convince him to visit the hospital. Slowly creaking the door open, popping her head in, “Hey, dinner’s all set. Just waiting for you two,” she tells them in her best chirpy voice. 

“Give us a minute, sweetheart,” Anne says, putting back the papers in a folder.

 “We can talk later.” Earl tells her. “I have something very special planned for dinner,” he smiles, opening a drawer from his bedside table, pulling out a manila envelope.

Layla sits next to her Uncle, putting as much distance as she could with Harry. Earl walks in and sits next to her, handing her the envelope.

“What’s this?” She asks, eyebrow arched, as she takes a sip of water. 

“Open it,” he smiles.

She pries the tab open to find red coloured rectangular papers inside, she shuffles them out and five ticket stubs fall out. There’s a picture of Mickey and right underneath it it says ‘THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH.’ The other end of the tick stub is perforated, and it says ‘ADMIT ONE.’ “No fucking way!” She squeals. “You got tickets to Disney World!”

Earl gleefully cackles. “Yes. I did. All five of you are hopping on a plane for a four day trip to Orlando,” he announces. 

The table chuckles at Layla. “Wait, you were all in on this?” She asks.

Anne nods. “He coordinated with us for dates.”

“We’re going during the Thanksgiving break. It will be crowded but we all didn’t have similar holiday windows, so we settled for this,” Abi says.

“And before you protest. You have to accept it. We’ve been planning this for over two months now.”

“But it’s so expensive - “

“Hush,” Earl shuts Layla down. “You and Harry have worked in my shop and helped me with so many orders. Think of this as your wage.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” She tells him, kissing him on the cheek as she throws her arms around his shoulders.

“You’re very welcome,” he says, giving her a warm squeeze. 

“ Why aren’t you coming with us, Earl?” Vasanth asks.

“I’ve been there multiple times with my grandkids. Plus, I’m heading to Florida in the new year to stay with my son for a few weeks.”

“Did you make these tickets yourself?” Layla asks, passing them around. 

“All the tickets are emailed. I’ve already forwarded them to everyone. It’s a shame that you kids don’t have ticket stubs anymore for keepsakes. Harry made this on Photoshop. He even got it printed, so you all can have a tactile reminder.”

“Thank you,” Layla smiles at Hary who’s scooping up the Ribollita.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives her a tightlipped smile in return as she spoons some salad on her plate.

////

“You’ve been driving?!?” Vasanth screams, looking at Layla who’s burrowing behind Anne on the couch. He quickly walks away from where he was in conversation with Earl to his niece, who he believes Shiva put on his Earth to turn every hair on his head grey. “I see you!” He steps in front of her, arms folded up, stance upright.

“What?” She muffles over a mouthful of leftover creole salad. Earl had specially requested Layla to make it and she spent over an hour trying to meticulously follow his wife’s recipes hoping the elimination of thick cut bacon won’t affect the taste as much.

“Answer the question, kutti.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m talking about what Earl told me just now. Like you, manoeuvring his Prius from where it was parallel parked.”

“So it seems,” she shrugs.

“உன்னை அடிக்க வைக்காதே(don’t make me whack you), Layla. I’m being deadly serious. You could end up in trouble with the cops.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad of a driver.”

“I know that. Your Indian licence is valid in this state for only three months. You came here in August, meaning, you are not legally allowed to drive now. Don’t - Do you not care about how that infraction would look when you’re applying for a student visa?!?”

“Calm down, சித்தப்பா! Look,” she shuffles through her tote and whips out her licence from her wallet. 

He examines it closely. “When did you-”

“தாத்தா ஒரு நாள் என்னை அழைத்துச் சென்றார் (Grandad, took me one day).” She winks.”You’re crazy to think I would do anything that would jeopardise my shot at a PhD.”

“If you have an international driver’s licence, then why do you insist on me driving you to the Indian store?”

“Because,” she blushes, knowing Anne’s right there. “I don’t get to spend much time with you,” she says quietly. “Aunty works remote on certain days but you always go out the door at nine and get back home after six. Then you have things around the house to take care of and I know this is really selfish of me to say this but I don’t know how to share you with someone as needy as me.”

“Are you talking about the -”

She nods. “I’m just selfishly trying to bank on Layla Vasanth time before you run out of that because you have an infant to cater to. And I know that’s how it it should be but -”

“நீ என் பயிற்சி சக்கரங்களாக இருந்தீர்கள். அப்பாவாக இருப்பதில். (You are my training wheels. For being a dad.)” He sniffles, pinching her cheek. “Besides we both know the minute you’re gonna start studying here, you’re gonna be my pain in the ass full time.” 

She laughs. “Shut up!”

“How about we go golfing every weekend and head to Dominos for lunch? Just the two of us.”

“No golf. It’s really cold. I much prefer playing back home where it’s sweaty.”

“Bowling then? I can teach you how to,” Vasanth proposes. “We can even go see a movie while we’re there.”

“It’s a date.” Layla smiles.

////

Layla raps against the cherry wood door, before poking her head into the master bedroom. She finds her Aunt propped up against the headboard, legs outstretched on the fluffy olive green duvet, bump in the way - giving an ample distance between Abi and the Macbook bolstered on the wooden bed desk. One of the many advantages of working from home was getting to be the most comfortable - with a rapidly growing five month bump -  while working a humdrum nine to five. That and being in your sleep clothes; Abi’s is in one of her tattered wrap around skirts, and a tank top. 

“Hi, kutti,” she smiles at her niece, who makes her way meekly to the cushioned bench at the end of the bed.

“Am I interrupting?” She asks, nodding towards the laptop.

“I’ve got a couple of minutes. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to talk,” she plays with the end of the tie of her kimono style robe. 

“I’d love to talk but I have a hop into Zoom for a meeting in ten,” she informs, reaching out to take a sip of coconut water. “But we can talk after.”

“Okay. I’ll get out of your hair then. Have a pleasant meeting.”

“Can you get my blazer on your way out please?” Abi requests.

Layla heads into the walk-in closet to pull out a latte coloured blazer and she hands it to her Aunt, who is now sat straight up on the bed. 

“நன்றி (thanks), kutti.” She shrugs on the coat, and pulls out the banana clip that was holding her hair from her face. Her shiny raven locks cascade down her shoulders and curl at the ends, where it sat atop of her belly. Unfair, Layla thinks as she watches Abi muss up the hair at the scalp to give it that oompf. Layla would kill to look that effortlessly gorgeous. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Layla informs. “Do you want the door open or shut?”

“Open, please. Harry’s coming with?”

“He’s not exactly speaking to me at the moment. Don’t know why but nevermind, you finish your meeting.”

“Don’t forget to take your phone with you then,” Abi tells her.

“It’s already in my pocket!”” 

With that Layla heads to her room to throw on her Panic! At The Disco t-shirt and throws Abi’s faux leather jacket over her shoulder. The black paper bag from Fink’s catches her eye. She sighs, as she pockets the long black box with the gold foil lettering. It's one of the things she loves about her high waisted blue denim boyfriend jeans she’d picked up at a factory outlet sale back home. The jeans did not flatter her pear shaped body the least bit, it was loose around her waist - she’d often need a belt to stop it from riding down, tight around the tops of her thighs, digging into her guts whenever she sat down, but the redeeming factor were the pockets. They were as deep as the mines in Moria; Layla was akin to greedy dwarves throwing it into the shopping cart, when the pocket swallowed half her forearm. 

She locks the door, punches the button to arm the security device but instead of heading over to the house next door, she crosses the road and bimbles her way to the playground in the park and settles herself in an unoccupied swing. Best thing about coming to the playground at three in the afternoon was that there were no snot filled cretins running around wreaking havoc. She pushes her heel on the grimy green and orange chequered rubber foam floor, making herself oscillate to and fro. It’s funny that she’s going to her Aunty for advice when ten years ago, her mother and grandmother swore that she will end up miserable when Vasanth gets married. And as much as she believed that it would happen - it was only logical to her - with stories multiple relatives told her about absolutely losing her shit as a child when her Uncle would pick up another kid to endlessly fixating on some potential ‘fault’ with the other with the marriage proposals that came their way; disliking Abi was one thing that never happened. 

Layla didn’t even get to meet Abi in person until the engagement and wedding dates were fixed. Her grandparents came across her profile and breathed a sigh of relief when they found out that she was tall; it was a right pain to find someone for Vasanths’s towering six foot two. Their families got along well, and much to everyone’s delight Abi and Vasanth got along well over FaceTimes, calls and texts. It didn’t take very long before both the families went to the nearest temple and to fix up wedding dates. Layla had only got a chance to meet Abi’s parents and siblings before the dates were fixed. In hindsight, she suspects it was her mum and her grandmum’s doing to keep her away until she had no option but to be a cavalier. The day she met Abi was one filled with a constant stream of advice from her mum and grandmum since this was someone her Uncle fancied - she was told to be kind, respectful, welcoming, and most importantly to not run her smart mouth. Her grandad had taken her to the shops to get some sweets, and had told Layla that she should get something for her future Aunt. So, she used up some emergency snack money she’d set aside in her wallet and got her a set of these dragonfly pearl earrings and a matching pendant. It wasn’t made of real pearls or gold, it wasn’t the fanciest choice either, she’d bought it in a small fancy store - a small shop that often sold bangles, bindis, kaajal, and some cheap imitation jewellery - but Abi’s reaction indicated that it was the most precious thing that she’d ever received. Layla’s heart warmed when she caught sight of the tarnished, worn out dragonfly pearl necklace in Abi’s jewellery drawer yesterday, when she raided Abi’s closet for the faux leather jacket.

Things only blossomed to fruition after that initial reaction, she can’t recall what they talked about but the conversation flowed. Layla was surprised about how much Abi already knew about her; she was privy to some hilarious antics she’d been up to with Vasanth. Layla had managed to convince Abi to try pineapple on pizza and even told her loads of things that would fetch her brownie points with her Uncle. And by the time her granddad came to pick Layla up several hours later, they’d already planned another meetup but this time at a beach.

Layla's phone buzzes with and a picture of her father fills the screen. It was a picture from Vasanth and Abi’s wedding reception, his phone in hand staring to the side trying to flag off one of the venue managers. One where her father refused to buy a suit and bought a suede jacket, paired it with a sky blue button up and some dark wash jeans - he’d insisted to her and her mum that it was something that James Bond wore in a movie, making the two crack up in response.

“Aren’t you up late?” Layla speaks.

“Amma and I came back from a movie half an hour ago,” he answers.

“What movie?”

“Ponniyin Selvan. Did you all watch it?”

“No. How was it?”

“It’s certainly a spectacle but Amma understood it a lot better than me. I think I need to watch it one more time.”

“Book படித்தது உதவியாக இருக்கும் (reading those novel would have helped).”

“Yes. How did your classes go? Are you finding it easy with the time zone and all?”

“நன்றாக சென்றது (they went really well)! Time zones aren’t bad actually, but it’s only been two days. So I can’t say for sure.”

“Good. பேராசிரியர் உங்களுக்கு கருத்து தெரிவித்தாரா (did the professor give you any feedback)?” Her dad inquires.

“இதுவரை இல்லை (not yet). அநேகமாக professor வார இறுதியில் feedback கொடுப்பார் (she’ll probably will at the end of the week).”

“You do exactly what she says, okay? Incorporate whatever she says. That’s how you show her that you’re a good hire. Kutti, listen, do you remember my friend’s house we went to in Bangalore?”

“Yes. The house with two dobermans,” Layla recalls.

“இன்று ��வனிடம் பேசினேன். ஒரு ஐபாட் வாங்க முடியுமா என்று கேட்டார் - (I talked to him today and he asked if you could get him an iPad -)”

“Appa! Do I look like an Apple mule to you all?”

“It’s cheaper there, kutti. And there’s nothing wrong in helping.”

“I’m already carrying five apple products with me. One homepod thing for you, iPad mini for Amma, AirPods for அத்தை (Aunty), and the new phone for my cousin.”

“That’s only four, Layla.”

“You do realise I have to bring my own phone too, right?”

“Oh. Then what’s one more product going to do?”

“Fine, I’ll get your friend the iPad. But if I get detained by the TSA for looking too suspicious with this many Apple products in my carry on. You’re gonna pay.”

Her dad guffaws on the other end. “உன் முகம் கடத்தல்காரன் மாதிரி இல்லை (Your face doesn’t scream smuggler).”

“To you maybe, நான் எப்படி மற்றவைகள் இருக்கிறேன் என்று யாருக்குத் தெரியும் (who knows what I look like to others)?” She laughs.

“சாப்பிட்டாயா (have you eaten)?” He asks.

“Yes. Had gobi fried rice  from the microwave. சித்தப்பா made it before he left for work.” 

“You are helping them out around the house, right? Remember that they are both busy with jobs. I know that they’ll never say this but you make sure to not burden them, especially now with a baby on the way.”

“I am helping. Reorganised the garage and all yesterday. I make sure to cook at least a meal everyday. Clean the house.” She exhales. “That’s more than what I do back home.”

Her dad lets out a laugh. “Now, Amma will hold you to the same standard when you get back. Listen, பாட்டி (grandmum) wants me to remind you to buy Ziplock-”

“Already bought three boxes of her precious ziplock bags.”

“Good. Okay, kutti. I’m gonna head to bed. You take care okay?”

“Will do. Tell Amma I said hi. Bye.”

She hangs up the call, and jumps off the swing; slowly making her way to Harry’s. The pit of the stomach seemed to bubble with nervousness. Hopefully his pisssy mood had lightened since dinner at Earl’s yesterday. She could punch in the security code but the boulder in her stomach only weighs heavier. Decking not to somehow piss him off by walking in, she rings the doorbell. Her feet tap against the white porch, waiting for him, mind racing. Usually he would have opened the door by now. She steps aside to peer into the window and spots no one. No signs of a tall lanky boy making it across the foyer. She presses the doorbell again and holds it down for a few extra seconds for good measure, craning her head to see if his Range Rover is parked in the driveway. The door swings open as she makes a fist to try knocking on it and there he was - clad in one of his muscle tank top that had darkened patchily with sweat, blue shorts, hair pushed back with the blue bandana she’d got, lips�� and eyebrows pursed in a grimace.

“Oh god, are you okay?!?” Layla exclaims, zeroing in on the frozen bag of peas he had pressed up against the slope of his shoulder. 

“What do you want?” He grits his teeth, as he looks down at her - a result of the trapezius bundle protesting.

“I just stopped by to - did you hurt yourself working out?” 

“I’m fine,” he winces.

“You clearly are not, earth boy. Let me help,” she states, taking a step forward into the house but finds her boy fixed in place, blocking her. “Harry,” she says firmly, looking into his forest green orbs.

“Did mum ask you to drop something off?” He asks.

“Well no,” she takes in a huge breath, she slides her hand into her pocket, fingers curling around the box. “I’m actually here to see you.”

“I don’t want anyone’s company.”

“Well -” the door shuts on her face, and she feels her heart drop. “I’m not anyone,” she mumbles dejectedly at the wooden door, tears prick the corner of her eyes and she makes her way back to her room. Tossing the gift box on her bedside table. Tearing off a page from her notebook, she scrawls with tears beading her waterline. 

I don’t know what’s happened

Just tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?

She blinks back the film blurring the words on the page, wiping away the tears that landed on the paper. She uses the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks, breathing out slowly. She wipes her nose on the sleeve of her t-shirt.

I understand needing space. But the door slam to my face hurt

That’s all she manages to jot down before her mother’s voice echoes in her head, “சில நேரங்களில் உன்னை விரும்புவது கடினம் (It’s hard to love you sometimes).”

She crushes the paper with the note she was trying to write. It can’t be. Harry himself said the opposite. She abandons the crumpled ball, as she trudges her way up to the home theatre to fire up her PlayStation. All she needs for the next few hours is to mindlessly kill some Valkyries in God of War. She’d finished playing the game’s story days ago and the open world game gave her the opportunity to kill all eight of the valkyries. But she’d soon found out that  killing them was tricky business. What other perfect way is there to channel gamer rage other than using the bubbling anger directed at her boyfriend to kill the remaining two warrior women with wings.

////

“Wait, you actually wanted to get married?” Layla asks, sitting up straighter, tilting her head from side to side until an audible crack is heard.

“Hmm…” Abi smiles at the huff her niece lets out. She had trailed upstairs - after her meeting - to the sounds of Layla shouting ‘சாவு, பன்றி, சாவு (die, pig, die)’ at the projector screen armed with one of her video game controllers.

“You were the perfect daughter weren’t you, Aunty?”

Abi laughs. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t have to negotiate.”

“Go on,” Layla motions with her hand, as she reaches for her water bottle.

“My relatives zeroed in on my parents the minute I graduated from engineering. They initially didn’t give it much thought but then matches actually came home through Aunties and Uncles we knew. They sat me down and asked me if I was seeing someone -”

“Wait! Your parents were okay with a love match?”

“Yup. As long as the boy was Hindu and from our caste,” Abi answers.

“Of course. It came with terms and conditions,” Layla giggles. “As long as they were from the same caste. Could you imagine going around and asking people what caste they belong to when you’re out on a date.”

“I know right! Hella awkward.” She joins in with Layla, giggling away feeling her baby move in accordance. “But I guess it really didn’t matter because I wasn’t opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. I told them I wasn’t in love with anyone but I also asked them to give me three years to get some work experience. I knew I wanted to do an MBA in the US. My parents weren’t on board with my moving abroad alone. They wanted me to have ‘protection’” she explains, making air quotes for the last work.

“Ech,” Layla reacts. “Why are all parents the same? When Vasanth told everyone that he’s gonna prep for his GRE and move to the US for his Masters my grandparents were over the moon. I bet they never even considered his ‘protection.’ Fucking double standards.”

“It enraged me too but I realised it was that or not doing my MBA in the States. I pulled up some of the prerequisites and my parents got to know that the degree needed students to have work experience. After many fights, they finally relented and gave me three years and started looking for matches while I was working.”

“Didn’t that throw you off? Knowing that time was ticking?”

“It did. It made me feel guilty, knowing I needed to have all of these experiences before I got tied down but it melted away when my friends and coworkers started settling down and starting families. They still had the experiences just married and sometimes having those experiences with their significant other; life didn’t stop. It took four years of searching before Vasanth.”

“Four years?!?”

“Yeah,” Abi chuckles. “I didn’t make it easy for my parents either. I had given them a zillion expectations that they needed to meet. I rejected many. Plus, they had to find someone taller than me.”

Layla laughs. “It’s the same thing that happened with Uncle. Finding someone tall enough for him, தாத்தா பாட்டி (grandad and grandmum) almost pulled out their hairs trying to find someone tall.”

Abi laughs. “My dad made so much fun of me on the days leading up to our engagement, because I was running around trying to find heels to try and match his height. I only owned flats prior to your Uncle.”

“How did you know சித்தப்பா (uncle) was the one?”

“There was no one moment. We got along well. He seemed genuinely interested in knowing what I envision my future to look like. Others I talked to often talked about the future in terms of their goals or a collective familial goal. Your uncle asked me what I wanted, rather than ask me what I want as one half of a couple. He was supportive with my MBA plans and work goals too. Seemed open to moving closer to whatever college I got in. That’s how we moved to North Carolina from San Francisco; I got into Kenan-Flagler. I haven’t told him this but when he readily put his notice in and moved to Charlotte with me - before he found himself a job here - he just became so much hotter.” Abi uses one of her hands and fans herself.

“Eww,” Layla grimaces. “Don’t call him hot.”

“Is it a crime to find my husband hot?” She laughs.

“When the husband is my Uncle, yes.” She shivers in disgust. 

“Oh- லேலா உன் கையை கொடு (Layla, give me your hand),” she says urgently, grabbing her palm and pressing it to the side of her ever growing tummy. The baby rewards the two with a jerky roll. “Never gets old,” Abi whispers with a smile blooming. “I initially thought the kick would be like a ping but it’s like a jelly rolling around with her. Getting more active by the day this one.”

“Even Laya agrees with me,” Layla says. Bending down to the active baby, “Don’t worry. I find it weird that she thinks he’s hot too.” She whispers, making Abi laugh at their private conversation.

“You two are gonna team up and make fun of us, aren’t you?” She manages to get out in between fits of laughter.

“Obviously.” Layla’s eyes flicks up to her Aunt’s with the most earnest expression on her face. She settles back into the recliner and lets out an audible sigh. “So is that all it is… I can’t possibly get out of this arranged marriage thing and the best I can do is negotiate.”

“I never said you can’t get out of it, kutti. It will just be an arduous journey to get there but knowing your mum and knowing you're the only girl child - I think the best course of action is to negotiate like I did. If you say no marriage and stand your ground now, what’s to say your mum won’t also resist and force you with that intensity of your refusal. So, don’t say anything, stay out of it. This way your PhD won’t be affected by it.”

“What do you mean PhD not being affected?” Layla sits up, tucking her feet under her thighs.

“I mean, your அம்மா (mum) might just put her foot down and refuse to send you to school -”

“But she can’t do that,’ Layla shakes her head. “I’m an adult and it’s not like I will be financially dependent on them. The colleges that I’ve shortlisted are the ones that are the most likely to give me financial aid.”

“That’s all true,” Abi agrees, taking Layla’s hand. “You were also an adult and financially independent for the Singapore trip, weren’t you? Look what happened. You ended up coming here.”

“So you’re asking me to let things be?” Layla says quietly.

“I’m asking you to consider playing it smart. Don’t worry about all this marriage nonsense. You have your eye on your goal - PhD, don’t get distracted. The time to fight this battle is not now. It took me four years to find a match. Who knows how long it’ll take for you? Maybe you can get your doctorate by that time. If not, don’t worry; one of the perks of an arranged marriage is that it’s democratic. Everyone - or at least most of them -  in the family should agree. Vasanth and I are on your team no matter what. And as for அப்பா, பாட்டி, and  தாத்தா (dad, grandmum and grandad), you can always convince them to join your side. We will not let you discontinue your studies, kutti. I promise. You have no idea how proud we all are that you’re so bloody smart.”

“I’m not that smart and all,” Layla mumbles.

“Hush,” Abi shushes her. “Plus, if you do change your mind on marriage, we all be here to make sure that you are on board with the match. We will not force you to marry someone you do not like. For now let it go. They won’t bother you much until they have matches shortlisted and that itself could take a long while. And we will cross that bridge when we get to it, for now you worry about your PhD applications. ”

“Okay. What you’re saying makes sense. Besides, the application deadlines are on the first of December; it’s not very smart of me to keep fighting this and get distracted. Need to have my eyes on the bigger picture.”

“Are you applying for Chapel-Hill?”

“It’s on the maybe list. Why?”

“Vasanth has been wanting to sit down with you this weekend, to look at the places before you start applying. Get your safety and reach colleges and all in order. He’s been secretly hoping you have UNC at the top of the list, so you can live with us while you study.”

Layla chuckles. “Do you reckon he’s gonna convince me to move Chapel-Hill from the maybe list to the yes list?”

“I’m sure, he’ll try bribing you with all sorts of things,” Abi answers, warmly squeezing Layla’s freezing fingers. “Kutti?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m just saying because I think it’ll be best for you to figure out what you want in terms of a relationship. Especially now that you have Harry to consider too. I heard you tell him the other day that you’re gonna marry him when you were eating the focaccia he baked. And I know it’s not my place to say this but I get that you meant it as a term of expression but sometimes it necessarily might mean the same for him. Have a talk with each other. The sooner the better. I know he means the world to you and I know you mean the same to him.”

“I didn’t think of it that way… I never thought that I’d feel all these things for him. I just thought it’ll be a fun hookup but I guess you’re right. I think he knows that I don’t mean it like that. Whenever we talk about things we know our priorities - colleges. We always talk about the future like it’s distant. I think the hardest thing about January rolling around soon is him. I don’t want to leave,” Layla bites down on her wobbly lower lip. It only makes the angry flames in her chest spark up again because Harry’s being an utter asshole to her. All she wants to do is cosy up to him and drum her fingers down his back as he presses wet kisses on her pulse. 

“Maybe I’m overstepping my bounds but do you ever see yourself getting married or are you just saying no because of what happened between your mum and dad?”

“Oh um,” Layla worries her bottom lip, trying to think things through and lets out a long sigh.

“Bit of both, I think. As much as I respect the sanctity of marriage, I’ve seen it go right and wrong. Sometimes I think I’ll end up just like அம்மா (mum) - you know how everyone says we often butt heads because we have similar personalities - and that means I’d have to go through the same things she did. As much as I do and villanise her sometimes, I honestly don’t think I have an ounce of the strength and determination she does. We lived alone for almost a year and she single handedly took care of all of the finances and even now, she works and does so much work at home too. அப்பா (dad) is not like Uncle, he never does things around the house, except groceries; and on most of the days, I don’t either. But I don’t think I need to get married either, as long as I’m in a long term relationship with someone I trust. It’s just a piece of paper, right? I don’t see it happening for a long long time.”

“Marriage is more than a piece of paper, Layla.”

“Easy for you to say, you and சித்தப்பா (uncle) have the breeziest of marriages,” Layla comments.

“That’s not true, kutti. We hit a rough patch during my final year of my MBA. We even talked about separating,” Abi explains.

“What?” Layla can’t help but gape at her. They were the perfect love birds in her eyes. 

“I don’t know what it’s like universally but with arranged marriages, it’s more companionate, the relationship. You go into it with a stranger, you become friends and then start loving the other. Yes there is passion in there too but it’s more so a companion type thing. We went months leading our own lives, devoid of the other in it. Vasanth was busy working two jobs, and I would be busy with schoolwork and friends. All of the little free time we had went to chores. We went weeks without talking to each other, and didn't even acknowledge each other. It was like two strangers living in a hotel. Every time we’d open our mouths, we’d snap at each other and both thought that things weren't working out because we’d grown apart.”

“Wait, is that when your parents and தாத்தா, பாட்டி (granddad, grandmum) all flew over and stayed in shifts with the two of you for like three months?”

Abi nods. “We’d told our parents that we didn’t see a point in being married and they’d all immediately created an intervention of sorts. They asked us to give it one last try - wholeheartedly - and that they’d take care of things around the house. We signed up for marriage counselling and went to multiple sessions. Since we had our parents taking care of everything else - the minute we came back home after work and school - we would spend time with each other; getting to know each other again from scratch. Marriage is not easy. They don’t just work. You make it work. It’s very easy, at least, with arranged marriages to drift off to your separate paths - be strangers - and it takes work to meet in the middle again. And it needs to be done because you’re growing as your own individual too. That’s how we make it work - we’re not the same Vasanth and Abi who’d agreed to marry each other. We set aside time for ourselves. We talk. Go out on dates. Take holidays. We make each other a priority. It’s work. We are at this point because we put in the work to get here and we will need to put in the work after the baby too.”

“Isn’t it exhausting though? Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Everything in life requires work, Layla. But it's not exhausting with Vasanth. It’s easy to put in the work with him. Because it doesn’t feel like work with him,” she smiles.

“I guess it makes sense. This was a great talk. I should come to you often,” Layla tells her.

“Oh yeah? Finally realised that Abi is like that tortoise from Kung Fu Panda,” her Aunty jokes around.

“Yeah. An old tortoise,” Layla snickers.

“Are you calling me old?” Abi pinches her cheek.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Layla tries to say it earnestly but her giggles give her away. She shuffles closer to her, throwing her hands around her shoulders, slotting her body to the side, mindful of Laya’s residence. “By the way, you didn’t overstep your bounds at all. I’m glad it took you four years to find Uncle because there’s no one else I’d rather have as my Aunty.” 

////

Harry can hear Layla’s voice faintly drifting from the floor above - wrapping up her class - as he makes his way up the stairs to her room. It’s twenty past one in the morning and every time Harry shut his eyes, he couldn’t help but shake the image of her walking back home dejectedly when he slammed the door. When he silently creeks open her bedroom door, he’s hit with a mixture of baby soap and Charlie Red that makes his shoulders slump in relief. Her room is neat - like it always is; there was freshly washed load of laundry that she hadn’t gotten around to folding stacked in an opened suitcase pushed to the corner of her room. What catches his eye was the crumpled ball of paper lying limply at the foot of the bed.

He grinds his teeth at the pain shooting from his shoulder, bending down to pick it up, and his heart falls to his stomach when he reads what she’s scrawled in cursive. Fuck, he shakes his head, plopping down on the mattress.

Layla walks into her room rubbing her eyes, clad in her embroidered Winnie the Pooh t-shirt dress and the kimono robe loosely tied around her waist. “ஹம்மாடி (whew),” she exhales out, looking forward to cosying up in her duvet. Harry can’t help the way the corners of his mouth tug upward - she always grunts out that word when she’s finished with whatever exhausting activity she was engaged in. “Oh,” she mumbles, stopping in her tracks at the sight of him holding on to the letter she wrote.

“Layla, I-” Harry starts.

“No!” She says, voice louder than either of them anticipated, stalking further into the room. “Leave,” she seethes, chest heaving as she rapidly takes in shallow breaths, clicking the door close to not wake Vasanth and Abi. “I don’t care. Just go.”

Harry gets up. “Baby, please listen to me.”

Layla steps back - out of his reach - shooting him a warning glare that told him to not get closer to her. “I don’t know what’s up, but you’ve done nothing but be an asshole to me -”

“I’m sorry that I’ve hurt yo-”

Layla chuckles. “The hurt ship has sailed. I’m fucking livid!” She blinks back the angry tears that begin to prick her eyes. “Please just leave! I’ve had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.”

Harry’s eyes blur as a thin film beads at his waterline, and he’s quick to blink them away before they have the chance to trickle down. The last thing he wants to do is upset her further, so he sighs and mutters, “Okay. I’ll go.” He makes his way to the door with his head hung dejectedly.

“Wait,” Layla calls out, quickly rummaging through her bedside table to find the long black box. “This is why I came over in the afternoon before you so kindly slammed the door on my face,” she says, voice dropping an octave lower. “Take it and fucking go,” she throws the suede box in his direction. 

Harry’s hands lift up to catch it in reflex but the second the box lands on his palm, he lets out a loud grunt, face twisting in pain from the muscles of his shoulder. “Christ,” he bites, as the other hand - one that’s not holding the box - cups over the spot of affliction.

Layla’s eyes soften, instinctively stepping closer to him. “Shit. Your shoulder still hurts?” She enquires, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he gives her a weak nod. “Go wait downstairs in the kitchen… I’ll be right behind you,” she exhales.

“But…” he trails off, not knowing what exactly to say when she’d just asked him to leave a few seconds ago. When he blinks his eyes open to examine her face, she’s already stalked off to the bathroom when he can hear her meddling with her stuff. He takes a deep breath in, hoping it quells the pain, and calls out to her. “Okay.”

He sits on the bar stools, gently placing the black box on the kitchen island, as she walks in. He watches her beeline towards the microwave, taking a small bowl from the cabinet, Harry examines the two glass containers she’d placed on the island. A hexagonal glass jar with a copper lid that reads Tiger Balm and a green cylindrical container that reads  Monison’s. 

“Can you take off your hoodie for me?” Layla asks, as she spoons some of the brown and green balm into the bowl.

Harry slowly slips off his grey hoodie, watching her punch in thirty seconds on the panel and shuts the door. Layla steps over to the pantry, coming out with a tiny blue chequered cotton kitchen towel. She takes the melted mixture from the microwave when it beeps, using the spoon to stir it together. She dips her pinky in to check if the liquid is not scalding, and proceeds to sink her fingers in the murky looking concoction. 

The room is filled with scents of herbs, camphor and eucalyptus as she slowly lets the liquid drip down from her fingertips onto his defined shoulder blade. “Sorry about the smell,” she tells him quietly as she kneads his muscles in circles - easing the taunt muscles under. 

Harry’s speechless as she works her way down his shoulder and back, letting the warm liquid trickle down and later gently rubbing it all over. He doesn’t deserve this from her, especially with the way he’s treated her the past two days. But here she is carefully working the knots in his shoulder, even after asking him to leave her sight. He feels his heart weigh heavy in his throat, and he closes his eyes to succumb to the emotions his girlfriend’s tender act stirs up in his chest.

“Once in basketball practice, these huge fifth graders tripped and two of them managed to fall right on my arm. I was in so much pain that I thought it was fractured but it wasn’t. And Amma (mum) did this for me and I swear the pain subsided the next day, which I know is not possible but I barely felt it after. I mean it’s just pain gate theory, right?” She waffles on hoping to distract him from the pain she might be causing him as she massages the last of the liquid on the expanse of his shoulder. When she’s done she quickly washes her hands before she takes the clean towel and presses the button on the sink tap for hot water. Once it’s dripping wet she wrings the excess liquid out; opening it up and flapping it twice for good measure, when she’s satisfied she drapes the toasty damp towel over his clavicle and smooths it down his shoulders. “Sometimes I think I’ll perish if I don’t have a jar of Tiger Ba-” she stops where she hears a sniffle, followed by a shaky inhale and feels his frame tremble under her palm.

“Harry? Shit.” Layla rounds the corner to stand in front of him. “Hey,” she coos, gently tilting his chin up using her thumb and pointer finger. Moss green eyes gleam up at her under the buttery overhead lamp, a broken shudder follows as tears trickle down his face, and Layla realises that he’s hurting. He’s been hurting the past two days and that he wasn’t apathetic and detached. 

“Oh honey,” Layla says soothingly, thumbs coming to wipe away the hot tears that stream down his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - Sorry,” he blubbers, pulling her close to him, burying his face in her midsection as his arms hold her in place.

Layla wraps her arms around his head, one hand caressing his scalp and the other tracing circle on his cheek, “Shh. Har, you’re okay.” She presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m -,” he hiccups, a fresh wave of tears halting him and all he could do was nuzzle into her warmth as he bawls.

“We’re okay. You’re okay. Let it out. I’m sorry too, babe,” she whispers, mollifying him as she rocks him to and fro, letting him cry it out.

Harry pulls back, with broken shudders, sniffling, blinking at the dark patch on her t-shirt dress from his tears. “I - I uh - came -,” he breathes out between empty sobs. “I saw the tickets for the carnival,” he says with a weak smile.

“Yeah? You wanna go?” She asks, sitting down on the stool next to him, slotting her knees between his and scooting closer to the edge to weave their hands together.

He nods, looking up at her shyly through wet lashes. “I’m sorry.” He says, rapidly blinking down another fresh set of tears.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, hand coming to caress his cheek.

“Why?” He chuckles. “I’m the one in the wrong.”

“It wasn’t very nice of me to ask you to leave and throw that at you,” she points to the forgotten black box on the counter.

“You were angry.” He shrugs. “When did you manage to slip the tickets in my wallet?”

“When you were busy fiddling with the record player at Earl’s.” Layla worries her bottom lip, not knowing how to phrase her next question. “Why were you so cold to me?”

The question only makes Harry tilt his head to the side, as he tries to weigh the answer in his mind. “I uh - I was jealous,” he replies, cheeks reddening in response.

Layla snorts out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the words that had stumbled out of the messy beheaded boy’s slightly pouty mouth. She slaps down on his wrist as she guffaws, driving her emphasis further. “Harry,” she gets out. “Be seriou- oh!” She stops in her tracks when she’s met with his earnest gaze. “Jealous of what though?”  

“Ashwin,” he admits, feeling the blood rush to the tips of his ears as he hangs his head.

“Why would you be jealous of Ashwin?” She asks.

“It’s just - It’s like - Like you getting into his car this morning and just driving away,” he explains.

“You make it sound weird. You know we were meeting up with the others at the golf course.” She swallows. “Do you not trust me?”

It doesn’t escape Harry that she’s now leaning away from him, and the hands that were holding him, now were crossed protectively over her chest. “I do! It’s a me thing. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t understand. How am I not supposed to take it personally?” She barks offensively, eyebrows arching. “Harry, I’ve met the girl you were hooking up with! Do you see me getting jealous and throwing a fit whenever you take me to the lookout point in Chapel Hill? No, because it was before us and I trust you. Ashwin is literally an acquaintance and you throw a hissy fit for days because I hitched a ride to him to the golf course. That’s fucking stupid!”

“Hissy fit,” Harry chuckles, and it only makes Layla shoot daggers as she glances up at him. 

“I cannot believe it. Fucking jealous,” she continues and she isn’t sure if the last past was directed at herself. “Your mum told me that you tend to latch on to people but I didn’t expect you to be possessive. I don’t know if I’m okay with that.” She shakes her head, hand coming to frustratedly rub at her forehead. “How are we gonna work through this? What are you gonna say next? ‘Let me mark my territory when you hang out with others, like how a dog would do?!?’” She shuts her eyes, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths through her nose so she would raise her voice and wake her Aunty and Uncle. She knows she’s spiralling and spewing out ridiculous things but she can’t help but feel hurt by his admission. 

“Have I -” she says softly looking up at him, “did I do something to make you feel that way?” 

“No, baby. No. It’s not you!” He sits up cupping her face cursing himself for making her doubt herself. “It’s just,” his voice breaks as the tears well up in his jade irises, “every time I see you two hanging out, it makes me insecure and I didn’t like feeling like the second best again.”

“Again?”

“It’s stupid,” he sniffles.

“It’s clearly not stupid if it’s hurting you,” she reminds him.

“I’m just scared that you’ll realise he’ll give you something I can’t.” He confesses. “Like you don’t need to check if a Tamil movie has subtitles at the cinema to watch with him, he gets all the references you make, you don’t have to translate things in your head or explain why you’re doing certain things - like the other day when you accidentally stepped on my book and you’d stopped talking to bend down to touch it and bring your fingers to your eyes and you’d spent the next twenty minutes explaining why for me. And it’s scary to think that one day you’ll realise that I’m not worth it and leave.”

“Babe,” Layla frowns. “I don’t think that at all. If anything, all those instances only makes me endeared that you’re curious about where I come from, plus, you actively participate in them. It works both ways too. You taught me so much about your home too. I didn’t know what a chip butty was before I met you,” she jokes weakly. Harry doesn’t laugh - or even smile - instead he looks crestfallen, Layla leans over and stamps a soft kiss on his pink lips and his splotchy cheeks. “I’ll never not think you’re not worth it. Ever. You mean the world to me. You make me feel safe and you make me feel loved. And that is something I will not take very lightly. Ever. I have nothing like that with Ashwin. I hitched a ride with him the other day because everyone else was gonna shower at the country club and head straight for work. Ashwin had a day off and obliged to drive me to Raleigh to pick something up for you,” she tells him, nodding towards the black box. “Besides, he acts like he’s from the hood sometimes - I guess most brown boys do that when they come here; pretend to be an African American rapper. It just does not get my motor running like you in a pair of fishnets.”

There’s a lingering undercurrent of teasing in her voice towards the end that makes Harry smile - the ones where he flashes his teeth and it makes the dimples carve out in his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have been cold to you. That was wrong of me. I should have come and talked it out with you. I cannot apologise enough for that,” he resolutely tells her.

“It was,” Layla agrees. “I did not deserve to be treated that way. I thought you were mad at me or that you needed space which is very unlike you. Because I’m the one that pushes you away-”

“Not in the way that I did. You always told me that you need some time to yourself before you share but I just pushed you away.”

“True,” Layla sighs. “Would inviting you along help whenever I go out with that gang? I’m not gonna stop hanging out with them because I feel like I’m hanging out with my cousins. And I’m trying to make the best out of that because they’re gonna fly out as soon as the wedding is over.”

“That’ll be nice. I sorta felt left out when you went to watch that movie without telling me because I’m really used to being your number one go-to person for everything,” he admits.

“I understand that you felt left out but I didn’t invite you because the movie didn’t have subtitles and I didn’t want you to be bored because of me. It would have helped if you told me earlier. We could have gone to the cinema - just us - and made a date night out of it.”

“I didn’t want to seem clingy I guess.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Layla questions and Harry nods. “You said earlier about not wanting to feel second best again. Has it got something to do with your dad? I mean you don’t talk about it and I’m just theorising but feel free to tell me to back off if I’m crossing a line.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if he chose us. He was a good dad, Layla. He was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. But I guess, I was not enough for him with anything I did,” his lower lip wobbles. “He’d had another family and I guess in the end my step-siblings - god,  it’s so weird to call them that - had something that I didn’t and when he figured it out he’d just left mum and me.”

“Harry,” Layla whispers, arms wrapping around his torso to pull him into an embrace. Harry nuzzles his face into the crook of her shoulder, chest shuddering as he takes in his favourite scent. It made sense to Layla now - his icy behaviour was not to attack her but to protect him, his inner child. She had the power to make him feel the things he once felt, and the second Harry realised that she held the power; when he felt ‘not enough,’ he’d cut her off so she wouldn’t put him through that - like a hedgehog balling themselves up and straightening out it’s quills when it senses his predators were nearby. “Babe, I’m so sorry you went through that. Those choices were your fathers - an adult. You in no way played a role in the shitty choices he made. You were a child, babe, and it’s not your job to make yourself the best option for your parents. Remember when you told me love is not a burden?” She can feel him nod against her neck. “Love shouldn’t be earned either. It’s not conditional - especially from a parent.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, crying again, but this time it’s tears of relief. “You know,” he chuckles, pulling back to wipe his eyes. “Earl said something along the same lines.”

“He’s a wise man,” Layla says. “How’s your shoulder? Is the warm towel and தைலம் (pain balm) helping?”

“It is. Thank you.”

“No need for thank yous. I’d take care of you anytime,” she shrugs.

“So you made Ashwin drive to Raleigh to get me something?” He questions, stretching out to grab the black velvet box.

“Uh huh.” She smiles. “I got a commission from this woman. She wants three still life oil portraits of her favourite food for her kitchen. She’s paying me three fifty dollars for each. So, I’d figured I’d treat you with something.” She nods to the box. “Open it.”

Harry’s fingers trace the gold foiled lettering - Fink’s -  against the soft material. He flips the box open to find a dainty gold chain and a thin cross pendant hanging from it of the same metal. It looked identical to the silver one he’d have around his neck - he’d go on a limb and say this one looked even more beautiful. He immediately looks into her homey raven eyes, bottom lip trapped with her teeth, as she looks at him expectantly.

“I know I ripped it off your neck that day,” her face flushes with heat thinking back to their lecherous activity upstairs in the swing room in front of his giant ornate mirror. “I’ve been feeling bad since. I’ve never ever seen you take it off and when I got the deposit money for the commissions, it was the first thing I thought of. I wanted to get you an exact replica but I just couldn’t bring myself to get it in silver, so I called Fink’s and had them make it gold. You kept complaining that the clasp on the old one was too tiny, so I asked them to use a circular clasp, so it’s easier for you.” She rambles. “They said they couldn’t make the chain dainty in 22 karats, something about them not able to get the metal to bend, so it’s only 18 kara-”

Harry cuts her off with a passionate kiss, hands clutching her cheeks holding her close, as he pours his devotion. His tongue melds with hers and it makes her breathe out a quiet moan, as she sinks his fingernails into his bicep. He breaks apart, pressing his forehead to hers as they both catch their breath from the dizzying ordeal. “I love it! Put it on for me?” He asks her, thumb caressing her bottom lip, making her smile.

////

Bright blue powdery skies can be deceiving, especially in North Carolina. While Layla usually dressed up in her lightest cotton clothes with skies like this, today she’s tugging the drawstring around the hood of Harry’s hoodie to protect herself from the nippy breeze that blows through. Once she’s done securing the hood in place by knotting it under her chin, so the frigid air caused by a hurricane in Florida won’t freeze her ears off.

She kicks up the basketball that was at her feet, dribbling it up the driveway towards the garage door where her Uncle had screwed in a hoop. She jogs to it, gasping for a breath of air as she spins, tossing the ball above her head towards the net when she faces the street. She turns around expectantly to watch the ball kiss the rim as it tumbles into the basket but huffs when it bounces off the ring towards the hydrangea bushes.

“Ugh,” she groans, trudging behind it and when she’s picking it up she feels a sharp swat to her ass. “Hey! Not nice!” She squeals at Harry, turning around to face him.

“Not so nice when someone spanks you now, is it?” He laughs, clutching a pair of headphones in his hands. He’s dressed in his workout gear - brown trousers with a spatter of gold paint he’d managed to get when he helped her paint the ornate frame of his mirror. It cuts off at his knees, exposing his si no and oui and non tattoos. It baffles her that he’s not freezing while she’s been having goosebumps wearing sweatpants. He’s in one of his full arm length muscle hugging athletic t-shirts, with a hoodie tied around his waist.

“I don’t do it hard,” she replies.

“Well my stinging ass cheek would beg to differ.”

Layla rolls her eyes at his dramatic flair. “What are you doing up so early? I thought you were not gonna work out until your shoulder is better.”

“My better is better but I’m not gonna work out for the rest of the week and fuck up my muscles. Just going out on a walk. What are you doing up at seven in the morning?” He asks.

“Had a review meeting with my department head at four about my first week. Couldn’t go back to sleep after,” she shrugs. “I was scrolling on Instagram and I came across this trick shot on this basketball page where people run up to the net, do a spin and throw it in. Been trying to do that for an hour now and I’m nowhere close to nailing it,” she frowns, nodding to the ball she’s stationed against her hip.

“I could just lift you up and spin you around,” he suggests.

Layla laughs. “Cute that you think you can lift- aaah!” She shrieks as Harry quickly squats down, to grab the junction where her bum and thighs meet, hoisting her up.

“You were saying?” He arches his eyebrow up at her.

“Put me down,” she demands as he makes his way to the hoop.

“Nope. Make this backwards basket and come on a walk with me around the pond.”

He positions her right in front of the hoop and she’s hoisted up high up that the end of the net touches the top of her head. “I’m not supposed to face the net, you idiot,” she giggles.

“Alright then,” he turns them both around towards the street and marches down to the end of their driveway. Layla spots Nandhini Aunty right away, standing right in front of her open garage door, staring at the two with a cardboard box in her hand.

Layla tosses the ball and Harry turns them around to watch it perfectly go into the net, making him hoot and spin her around in celebration. They both laugh as Harry loosens his arms around her thighs making Layla slide down his torso. She doesn’t stop giggling as she wraps her around his neck, fingers massaging the baby curls at the nape of his neck, as she rubs her nose against his - feet still dangling above the ground as he holds her in place. “I like this trick shot so much better,” she whispers.

“Nandhini’s watching,” he mumbles, reminding her of her PDA rule around brown aunties, as she angles her head.

“Fuck her,” whispers with a smirk as her eyelids flutter close and she closes the distance between their lips.

  LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!    

[f1]

GALLERY: Check out the special Miami GP helmet designs by Sargeant Gasly Verstappen and more

Formula 1 has descended upon the Sunshine State for the highly anticipated second edition of the Miami Grand Prix, and a few drivers – including Florida native Logan Sargeant – will be rocking some superbly creative one-off helmet designs this weekend. Logan Sargeant The American will technically have three home races this season – with Austin and Las Vegas to come later in the year – but it does not get closer to home than in the state you were born in, and in the city you used to race karts as a child. And he will be sporting a new helmet this weekend that, while having similar colours to his usual lid, features some local touches, such as the palm trees, the huge Miami sign plastered across the front and more. READ MORE: Williams driver Sargeant says first race on home circuit in Miami a ‘big hurdle to climb’ Pierre Gasly Pink is a colour that is often associated with Miami, and Gasly’s one-off lid features a heavy dose of it on his special design. It also features a touch of sky blue, another colour associated with Miami, with his logo plastered all around his helmet. Alex Albon The Williams driver is known to be quite a keen golfer, it also helps that his partner Lily Muni He is a professional. And in tribute to the golf balls he hits on the fairway, his helmet is designed like one this weekend. Also, if you haven’t already, check out his acting skills in the helmet launch video on his socials. IT'S RACE WEEK: 5 storylines we're excited about ahead of the Miami Grand Prix Esteban Ocon Like his team mate, Ocon’s one-off helmet also features a heavy dose of pink and sky blue, but in a much darker tone. In a simple design, you can see palm trees, a staple in Miami, drawn around the sides and back, and the American flag at the top. Lando Norris Norris caught the eye with his basketball designed helmet for last year’s Miami GP. So he went away and thought about how he could top that this year. Having thought long and hard about it, he decided that instead of a basketball, he would go for a beach ball, and it looks incredible. PADDOCK INSIDER: Why the F1 drivers and fans are pumped for Miami’s sophomore Grand Prix Max Verstappen Last year’s winner in Miami has brought his own unique style this weekend, and while it is a similar design to his usual helmet, it features some different colours. And like many of his counterparts, he has gone with those that best represent Miami, namely pink and both sky and dark blue. READ MORE: Verstappen enjoys Friday practice after topping FP2 while team mate Perez laments tough start in Miami Kevin Magnussen As a member of the lone American team in the paddock, it is only right that Magnussen brought his own special helmet design for the weekend. The Dane has traded in his usual red for a navy blue and white number that features a huge letter K painted on the sides and the back. We will let you figure out what that stands for. Charles Leclerc & Carlos Sainz Ferrari have gone for the double launch, as both drivers have brought their own special designs for the weekend. Leclerc has traded in his usual red for a white layout this weekend, that features a flowery Hawaiiain shirt pattern style. On the other hand, Sainz has stuck to his usual dark theme, although the Spaniard has added in some Miami vice colours, but in metallic form. MUST-SEE: Leclerc ends second practice for the Miami GP in the barriers with late crash Nico Hulkenberg Hulkenberg is racing in Miami for the first time, and he has brought his own unique touch on the weekend. It seems he has gone for a heavy palm tree theme on his lid, as it also matches what he was wearing upon entering the paddock on Thursday. via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

John Cuneo, Mar-a-Lago Sewage :: [Robert Scott Horton]

* * * * *

Trump's spiral staircase: down, down, down he goes, where he stops, nobody knows

LUCIAN K. TRUSCOTT IV

JUN 20, 2023

Who knew that the name of a two-bit spray-tanned Fox News hack would be destined to be mentioned alongside the David Frost interview of Richard Nixon as a classic of the genre, but it appears that is where yesterday’s Bret Baier “Special Report” interview with Donald Trump is headed.  Well known celebrity interviewer Frost asked Nixon whether the president could do something illegal, such as taking action against certain anti-war groups “if he decides it’s in the best interest of the country or something,” to which Nixon infamously responded, “Well, when the president does it, that means it’s not illegal.”  Forty-five million television viewers watched that night, a record for the largest audience for a political interview in history.

A much, much smaller audience was watching Fox last night when Trump claimed, for what must have been at least the thousandth time, “First of all, I won in 2020 by a lot, okay?  Let’s get that straight.”  Baier, holding a sheaf of paper that appeared to have lists not only of questions, but of facts, pushed back by reciting a long list of evidence to the contrary: “There were recounts in all the swing states.  There was not significant evidence of fraud,” to which Trump replied, “We were trying to get recounts, real recounts, not just numbers of votes cast.” 

Baier forged ahead: “There were lawsuits, more than 50 of them, in front of judges you appointed, that came up with no evidence, no evidence, and they looked at every potential case of voter fraud in six battleground states, and they found fewer than 475 cases.”  Trump, babbling over Baier the whole time: “You know why?  They weren’t looking at the right things.  They were counting ballots, not the authenticity of ballots.  The ballots were fake ballots.  This was a very rigged election.” 

But it was when Baier got into the meat of last week’s indictment of Trump for improperly removing and then mishandling top secret government documents, that the interview really went off the rails for Trump.  Baier asked him when he was subpoenaed by the Department of Justice for the documents he held at Mar a Lago, “Why not just hand them over then?” 

I wish you could hear Trump’s tone, which resembled nothing more or less than the voice of a little boy who had been caught with a rock in his hand standing on the lawn of a house with a broken window: “Because I had boxes! I wanted to go through the boxes, and get all my personal things out…(sputters)…I don’t want to hand that over to NARA (National Archives and Records Administration) yet, and I was very busy, as you have sort have seen.”  A B-roll of the indictment appears on the screen as Baier tirelessly presses on: “But according to the indictment, you then tell this aide to move [boxes] to other locations, after telling your lawyers to say that you had fully complied with the subpoena when you hadn’t.”  Trump looks frantic: “Before I send boxes over, I have to take all of my things out.  These boxes were interspersed with all sorts of things…uh…golf shirts, clothing, pants, shoes…there were many things…” 

Baier manages to intersperse a short question, “Iran war plans?” Here's Trump’s face as he hears the question: “Not that I know of!  Not that I know of!”

Baier then turns to the Iran war plan document referred to in the indictment in the transcript of a recording of an interview with ghost writers for Trump’s final chief of staff, Mark Meadows, made at Trump’s Bedminster golf club in 2021.  “The Iran attack plan. You remember that.  You were recorded.”  Baier continues, reading from his typed notes: “The indictment says, the recording and the testimony from people in the room say you showed it to people in the room there, that day.  You say on tape, that you can’t declassify it, so why have it?”

“There was no document,” Trump asserts. “That was a massive amount of papers and everything else talking about Iran and other things. And it may have been held up or may not, but that was not a document. I didn’t have a document per se. There was nothing to declassify. These were newspaper stories, magazine stories, and articles.”

“I’m just saying what the indictment says, there were people in the room, who testified…”

“These people are very dishonest people.  They’re thugs.  They’re thugs.  If you look at what they’ve done to other people…”

Tobias Barrington Wolff, the Jefferson Barnes Fordham Professor of Law at the University of Pennsylvania, Carey School of Law, posted on his Facebook page a primer in the law, describing exactly what happened in Trump’s interview with Baier.  Helpfully referring to Trump as “the grifter,” Wolff explained:  “The only way the grifter's own spoken words could be forcibly used against him at trial is if he chose to do exactly what he is now doing: talk obsessively about the charges against him on camera at rallies and in interviews, hoping that his weaponized narcissistic bluster would once again allow him to escape accountability. Your Fifth Amendment right protects you against being ‘compelled’ to incriminate yourself; it poses no barrier if you want to bull your way in front of a camera and insist on doing so. And one of the main exceptions to the hearsay rule is a statement made by the party himself, which is helpfully referred to as an ‘admission’. The category of admissions is a broad exception to the hearsay rule. It means that other witnesses, like his former lawyers or Walt Nauta, could testify at trial to the things the grifter said to them while executing the conspiracy to obstruct justice. And it means recordings of the grifter's own out-of-court statements can be used to establish the elements of his offenses. It is just that, in a normal criminal trial, the prosecution does not have video of the defendant's own incriminating statements. But the grifter is helpfully providing those video admissions with every campaign speech and every interview he gives to a right-wing news outlet.”

The Florida magistrate in the case against Trump issued an order earlier on the same day of Trump’s interview with Baier forbidding him from disclosing “the Discovery Materials or their contents directly or indirectly to any person or entity other than persons employed to assist in the defense, persons who are interviewed as potential witnesses, counsel for potential witnesses, and other persons to whom the Court may authorize disclosure.”  The magistrate went on to warn that disclosure of discovery material “may result in contempt of court or other civil or criminal sanctions.”

It is unknown at the time of this writing if any of Trump’s interview, particularly the part involving the Iran attack plans, amounted to disclosure of “discovery materials.”  It is known, however, that pretty much the entire interview, from beginning to end, may one day end up as evidence in trials of Donald Trump in the classified documents case as well as any potential case the Special Counsel files against him for attempting to overturn the results of the 2020 election. 

[someguyiguess23]

K, so yesterday I drew Noir wearing a shirt, shorts, and a cap cuz I thought he'd look good in it. He does.

But people kept saying that it looked like a golfing outfit. (Myself included) So I decided to draw these sketches as well.

[englishmansdcc]

RSVLTS announce San Diego Comic-Con exclusives...and not just shirts!

It’s almost time for SDCC…and with it RSVLTS will be there once again…but this time with 3 different booths with products for a lot of fandoms! They’ve typically had 2 booths, one for Star Wars in the Lucasfilm Pavilion (Booth 2019-K), and one covering a lot of other fandoms (Booth 3735). This year though they are adding a 3rd booth for their Breakfast Balls line of golf apparel (Booth…

[llytalbot]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: SPORT HALEY Women’s Sleeveless Golf/Athletic Polo Shirt Orange Size Medium.

[mooonzyyyy]

let’s answer this besties imma yappppp

A- i would love to just learn how to play certain video games with them that sounds so fun or maybe they play it while i watch and chat

B- WHAT IF WE GET A FINAL FANTASY THEMED BAKING OUTFITS AND ALL NOT ONLY WILL IT BE FUNNY BUT ITS A GAME THEY LOVE

C- the whole they have two apartments theory was actually insane and it turns out to be right too 😭

D- i like his mental health stuff , loved the reasons why dans a fail and obviously BIG , internet support group , all of dystopia daily (especially parasocial video and louise)

E- their coming out <3333

F- i like the most recent amazingphil video (choker and green jacket ) (title: Dan and Phil are back in the closet) , dans potato sack (she deserves better) , dans sexual desire gray hoddie , PHIL IN LEATHER JAVKET???? , phil’s papyrus shirt , anything of phils dorky shirts really

G- they still haven’t collabed with thomas sanders i actually need a collab with thomas or a new video with peej playing his board game

H- on top of my head the wad you can stay one <3

I- Dans first insta stories in 2016 are always my go to and genuinely anything that shows us parts of their lives like the II times have always been homely to me

J- any time phil makes an inappropriate joke (coz he does it on purpose to tease dan)

K- okay i need pride merch like little pins of dan in his coming out wearing the pride flag and a little phil one i think it would be really cute / planners, journals designed by phil specifically

L- the cat whiskers as basic as that sounds she is special (i miss pinof)

M- THE CHRISTMAS TREE VIDEO (RAVE TIME RAVE TIME)

N- a dog a corgi phil deserves one after the new video (this game gave us a breakdown) in case ppl see this later

O- 1 2 3 switch , golf with friends , the final battle , google feud , switch sports ,

SHUFFLE BOARD (I LOVE HER THE MOST)

P- cutting dans hair , why i was a weird kid , any storytime video ever , dan is leaving me ( i love domestic lazy videos) , viewed choose my outfits , dan and phil are back in the closet…

Q- i will ask both how they managed to deal with the whole pressure thing from the fandom coz they are so strong

R- dans telling phil this song is for him (i love all of bbc i need to rewatch i will come back to this)

S- devan ( sorry dil is the og and dalien is so fun)

T- everything in interactive introverts is my fav , tabinof is my go to for nostalgia and WAD is dans big thing so it’s very important to me <3

U- anything undertale

V- i need a new let’s play other than finishing it takes two , i need deltrune or garten of banban (this one is for the lols coz that game is unserious)

W- the whole gay and orange heart i’m not over it or we never had sex on youtube

X- THE INTERNET IS HERE IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME

Y- reading A03 fanfics (not necessarily their own just anything)

OH AND MUSIC YAPPING I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THEY LIKE PLAYLISTS AND ALL

Z- literally, what can i say , zebra , yeet , microwave , slorn , morn (dnp book cult gets this)

YEAH THATS ALL THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTIONS <333

Dan and Phil A-Z Ask Game:

I was craving a big ask game so had to go for the classic dnp format. Hope everyone enjoys!

A - Activity; You can choose to do one activity with Dan and Phil, what will you do?

B - Baking; Pitch a concept/outfit/etc. you want to see in a future baking video.

C - Conspiracy; What are your favorite and/or least favorite phannie conspiracies (past or present)?

D - Dan; What is your favorite video from Dan's main channel?

E - Emotion; What Dan and/or Phil moment has made you the most emotional?

F - Fashion; What are some of your favorite Dan and Phil looks?

G - Group; Dan and Phil are doing a collaboration video, who do you want it to be with and what will they do? (Could be someone they've collabed with before)

H - Home; What are some of your favorite domestic Dan and Phil moments?

I - Instagram; What are some of your favorite Instagram posts/stories?

J - Joke; What Dan and Phil moment(s) always make you laugh?

K - Keepsake; What type of merch item/design/theme/etc. would you most like Dan and Phil to make?

L - Lion; What is your favorite item/running gag/etc. that's ever been a part of Dan and Phil branding?

M - Manchester; What is your favorite early Dan and Phil moment?

N - Norman; If you could choose a pet for Dan and Phil to get, what would it be?

O - Opponent; What is your favorite Dan vs. Phil video?

P - Phil; What is your favorite video from Phil's main channel?

Q - Question; You can ask one question each to Dan and Phil and they will give you an honest answer, what will you ask?

R - Radio Show; What is the most iconic radio show moment to you?

S - Sims; You have to choose one of the three main storylines in the Sims (Dil/Tabs, Devan, Dalien) to never be revisited again, which one are you eliminating?

T - Tour; What is the best segment from each of their tours, in your opinion?

U - Underrated; What is the most underrated Dan and Phil video?

V - Video Game; What video game do you most want to see on dapg?

W - Wow; What have Dan and Phil done that surprised you the most?

X - Xylophone; What is your favorite music-related Dan and Phil moment?

Y - Youtube; If you could choose one YouTube video for dnp to make, what would it be? (Solo or joint content, your choice!)

Z - Zebra; What words or phrases have you picked up from dnp and/or always make you think of them?

[customsweaterproducer]

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[pyxisastronautica]

Do you have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? Do you go out of your way to always wear it when you can? Why is it your favorite? (To all)

Q: Oh, yeah! We all got to pick out one outfit as a sort of bon voyage present, courtesy of our roboticists!

E: They could be...sentimental like that, at times.

Q: Mine is a just big black hoodie. It's really cozy and soft.

E: ...My blue dress shirt. I'd like to think it's a nice color on me.

L: Mine is a hoodie too, my trainer stitched it together. It is made of brown pleather with green synthetic fur trim.

W: Cowboy hat, naturally! I think Papa's is that Cap'n hat he got from Yuma, and Yuma's is that studded black vest. Surprised Admiral let 'er keep that.

U: Everyone in Security has very smart dress uniforms! UwU

B: Purple bowtie. It is unique!

C: Pencil skirt. It's professional.

G: Golf cap. What can I say?

H: Kinda taking to this hard hat.

K: Same? It's fun to butt heads with someone with it on.

N: I have a fall leaf pin. n_nb

I: Goggles, for safety reasons.

F: Goggles, because they are DASHING! (Get it?)

X: Gloves maybe. Keeps my joints clean.

D: Pants with many pockets. S: Pants with many pockets.

J: Sky blue overcoat, darling. I rock it.

R: A silk rose pin, it's very elegant.

T: My cavalier hat. It's rather striking, no?

A: I have a tie that has the Script to Hamlet printed on it in extremely fine print.

Z: Mine has the notes to Hymn to Nikkal.