#sleepy cassette player…. so sleepy……..

[holographic-mars]

MARS. need you to imagine ravage laying on soundwave's chest while they're both struggling to go into recharge and ravage purring in time to the music soundwave is playing from his systems. warm rumble-y cuddle pile. that is all

GGUH thank you Blight I need soft Ravage and Soundwave cuddles to heal.

Ravage and Soundwave both have horrible sleep habits and poor sleep in general , so yes absolutely it’s cuddle pile time n Soundwave plays some nice music from his systems and Ravage is curled up all warm on Soundwave’s chest with her head mushed under his chin and purring so loud to the time of the music. The warmest, rumbley-est cuddle pile ever.

Also this reminds me of my hc that Soundwave’s sleep is so messed up that he RARELY sleeps a full cycle at night and only sleeps for a couple of hours and then wakes up. Because of this, he’s more prone to taking short naps throughout the day so he doesn’t pass out from lack of recharge. And you know who always joins him? Ravage. They nap together all the time (to keep eachother safe. It’s dangerous to fall asleep alone in the Dead End and during the War, so they always fall asleep with the other to keep eachother safe). Megatron found them napping in little nooks throughout the Nemisis all the time during the war.

OUHH LET TJEM SLEEPP,,,, sooo sleepy,,,, the kitties,,,,,,, theyre too sleepy,,,,,,,,

[moonstruckme]

jilly teaming up on reader when she hasn’t slept for a few nights cause she’s studying; so they trick her into doing things to make her sleepy

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 879 words

Your textbook is starting to blur in front of you, but you’re not sure if that’s due to fatigue or the poor lighting. You squint to make out the small font. James is in the habit of turning lights on wherever he goes, and Lily often follows behind him shutting them off. She likely forgot you were still up studying. 

You drag yourself out of your chair, going to the switches by the kitchen, but to your surprise the kitchen light is on. Both of your partners are huddled by the stove, speaking to each other in hushed tones. Lily pulls away when she sees you. 

“Hi, baby,” she says in a soft voice, hugging you without premise. You’re confused but hardly resistant, melting a little as your arms come around her in response. 

You notice for the first time that there’s music playing from James’ cassette player. It’s soft and slow, one of the jazz tracks Lily sometimes likes to listen to while cooking or tidying. You must have been really lost in your reading not to have heard it come on. 

Lily’s hand draws up your back, rubbing soothingly between your shoulder blades. “Are you ready for bed?” she asks you. 

Her voice is so lulling, so tempting, you could almost fall asleep right then and there. But you take in a breath and straighten. You hadn’t realized how much you’d begun to sag against her. 

“Can’t.” You give her a fond squeeze before letting go. “I have to study.” 

“I’d say you have studied, sweetheart,” James says. He’s looking at you with concern in his brown eyes. 

You offer him a rueful smile. “Still some left to go.” You go to the light switches, turning up the ones above and near your table, which were set terribly dim. “You guys go to bed. I’ll be there later, I’m just gonna…” You cover a yawn. “...gonna make myself some tea for now.” 

Lily frowns, but James knows better than to argue once you’ve made up your mind. “Alright,” he says, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to the center of your forehead before reaching into the cabinet above you for a mug. “You sit, I’ll make it.” 

“Thanks, Jamie.” You smile at him. Take Lily’s hand, kissing her palm. “Thanks.” 

You devote yourself back to your textbook. It’s difficult to make the words stick, but you force yourself to concentrate, focusing on each one in turn until it sinks in. Then the next. It’s a long and tiring process, and some of the ideas slip away anyway. 

After a while, you’re leaning down with your nose nearly to the book, squinting at the words again, and you realize the lights aren’t bright anymore. They’ve dimmed again. How did…surely if it had happened quickly, you would have noticed? 

You have to get up again to turn them back up. You know this, but your body sits heavy in your chair. Exhaustion seeps from your bones into your bloodstream, a slow, steady drudge. You’re well on your way to actually putting your nose to your book and falling asleep on top of it when a mug appears in front of you. 

You drag your eyes up to see James, soft and half shadowed in the low light. 

“Oh, thanks.” You pick up the mug, your saving grace, and will your hands not to shake. 

“No problem, lovie,” says James. His voice sounds quieter than you think you’ve ever heard it. 

You’re halfway through a long sip before you realize something is amiss. “Is this milk?” 

A pause. 

“Is this warm milk?” 

James’ hand finds the back of your neck, thumb moving back and forth over your baby hairs tranquilizingly. “Do you feel sleepy?” he asks in that same soft voice. 

A chuckle from the kitchen. “Subtle, James,” says Lily, not without affection. 

“Oh, come on. Like you were subtle asking her to go to bed.” 

“Sweetheart.” Lily comes over to wrap her arms around you from behind your chair, warm cheek pressed to yours. “It’s late. Aren’t you tired?” 

“I’m…” Another yawn comes to answer for you. “Yes, but…but that’s by design, isn’t it?” You think of the dimmed lights, the milk, the jazz music. “I’m only tired because you’ve made me.” 

“No, you’re tired because you need to sleep.” Her hand rubs at your clavicle, a slow back and forth. “We’re only trying to help it along.” 

“I…” You yawn again, a long one. Your eyes water. 

“You’re adorable.” James kisses the side of your head, lingering so you’re smushed between him and Lily. There are worse places to be, you suppose. “Come on. It’ll all be there in the morning.” 

“But I’m—” 

“You’re knackered, is what you are.” James’ tone is teasing bent under the weight of fondness. He draws you out of your chair with an arm under your shoulders, and you let him. His words muffle into the top of your head. “Not to mention stubborn. I dread the day you and Lils gang up on me instead. The thought genuinely scares me.” 

“We don’t need to,” Lily tells him, sweetly matter-of-fact. “You’re too amenable.” 

“I have my rebellions.” 

She pats him on the shoulder as you cross the threshold to the bedroom. “Sure, love.”

[sopiao]

König and Ghost fight (kinda) for reader’s attention. Both wanting to listen to music with you. But it fails. (:3_/ )\_

( ^^^ can’t tell if you can see but it’s a little guy laying down :))

(Callsign will be ‘Shark’ :D)

Cellphones, tablets, iPods. Anything that’s a cellular or digital device is prohibited from being brought into any military base. For precautions, maybe information can be slipped or recorded, so naturally there will be rules. But somehow, Captain Price has persuaded and assured that Shark is a good soldier, one of his best and won’t leak or record information. Plus you don’t even care about all that.

So you got to have a cassette player, but only could bring a total of 2 cassette players. So they had to think long and hard of what they could bring, what they would listen to on their free time, training, and on missions, occasionally.

Shark settled on one tape of relaxing noises to help you sleep at night, a mix of soft rain and thunder, 6hz theta waves, and fire cracking. The other tape is more upbeat and energizing music. Rammstein, Rob Zombie, Nine Inch Nails, Godsmack, and Limp Bizkit.

(If you don’t like or listen to any of them, just ignore this and replace it with your music taste ;3)

—

Currently, the group were driving back from a isolated town, back to a safe house where they’ll be picked up and back to base. To rest and recover to get ready for the next mission. Soap was laid out on the farthest back seat, snoozing away, snoring every so often.

Price and Gaz were in the front, Price drove while Gaz talked to him to try and keep him focused and awake since it has been a long long night for the team.

Shark was stuck in between Ghost and König. Even though the vehicle was a good size, not too small, it still felt like the three were in a cramped closet. While Soap got a whole row to himself. If only you were fast enough to shotgun. Ghost kept unconsciously man-spreading, pushing your thighs to press up against König’s.

The tall Austrian looked down and saw the small metal box being fidgeted with in your hands. He decided that this would be a good bonding moment, very small and subtle but still intimate in a way.

“Could I listen with you?” König had his hand out, slightly nervous that you’d reject him. But he was a little more comfortable with you than the others since he’s closest with you most.

You were a little self conscious with your music taste. Your parents didn’t really like your taste in songs so you thought that he wouldn’t too. But you still handed him the black wired ear bud.

König had to slouch down a little so the wire wouldn’t stretch or get pulled out. He wasn’t very surprised when he started to get familiar with your music taste. It was very much like you and your music taste.

Ghost had been listening in on the two’s conversation, somewhat conversation, resting his head on the glass beside him, staring off into the forest. Internally cursing at himself that he hadn’t asked Shark that sooner, he always saw them listening to it but never thought to ask to listen with them.

It irked him a little, his eyebrow twitching when he looked over and saw you and König so close, while innocently listening to music.

“You listen to Rammstein?” He asked excitedly when he heard the opening of ‘Mein Teil’ buzz through the earbud. Happy that he found another common interest between the two. He really didn’t expect you to listen to them since their in German and not the most popular.

Ghost continued to listen in on their conversation, pretending that he’s zoned out or possibly snoozing away like the sleepy soldier in the back. Rolling his eyes whenever König spoke.

“Could I- uh.. Rest my head on your shoulder? It kinda hurts my back sitting like this” König explained, a lie, but he thought that since everything has been going well. He gets to share music with you, find out a band you both like, now he’s testing it further, see his limits.

Eyebrows furrowing when his eyes shifted back down at you next to him. Ghost froze when he sees his comrade resting his head against your shoulder. He was practically cuddling you! Well that’s that Ghost saw. He decided enough was enough and he had to fight back.

Tapping your shoulder to get your attention, he spoke in a softer tone.

“What’re ya’ listening to?” Ghost usually took interest in whatever you were doing, but not in your music. It took you by surprise, but you were more than happy to share your taste with him.

“Rob Zombie. You know him?” Shark asked, hoping that he heard of him or that he’s into that kind of music. But even if he wasn’t known for his music, he still directed good movies. So hopefully he’s the type to be into that.

“Never. Could I listen?” Ghost asked, not really thinking straight when he did. Hoping that he could get closer to you, or find out more about you and your interests that he can later look into and research.

It would be weird if you said yes, cause there’s only two ear buds and the other if with König. If you gave him your earbud you wouldn’t be listening to music with either of them.

But if you said no, it would seem like you were favoring König over him. Too awkward to explain to that you couldn’t. You nodded handing him your bud.

Since he was also quite tall he didn’t hunch over like König did. Instead, he slide to the side to get closer to you since in his mind he wouldn’t wanna stretch the wire of the ear buds, and in a subtle way get physical closer to you. His arm on the car seat, around you, while his side was pressed up against you. Practically smothering you with his strong chest.

Now there you were, sat in between two men who thought were sharing music with you but were really sharing music with each other. But neither of them realized it.

Every so often Ghost or König would make a comment or ask a question about the song that’s playing, so you had to make up an answer as to not make it awkward.

—

Extra:

Both froze in place when a certain song played on the cassette. One song that you forgot you had on there, CPR by Cupcakke. But since it was only Ghost and König was really listening to music, you hoped that no weird songs would play.

‘I’m here to give you customer service. I save d— by giving it CPR’

They both, at the same time, looked at Shark for a reaction to the song. But of course they both are unaware that their sharing musics with each other. So Shark acted like everything was normal and fine.

[silly-boozer]

I think these are considered "headcanons"? I'm not entirely sure but here we go.

Meg had bought Dan a walkman for his birthday which he could put cassettes in. So ever since then, he started to buy more music so now he has a whole cupboard in his room full of (mostly) The Talking Heads CDs and cassettes. Herbert only recently discovering Dan's love for music, but he doesn't really care for it that much. In some instances while Herbert is working in the basement downstairs, he can hear Dan's vibrations from him singing and dancing from above. Usually he storms upstairs, pulls his headphones off and throws the walkman on a nearby cushion or couch (because if he broke it he would know he would be in for it. Plus Meg had given the walkman to Dan). He yells at him, "Turn off that horrible music don't you know I'm trying to work?? If you have nothing else to do why don't you join me." Then he drags him to the basement while Dan looks like a sad puppy.

But on special occasions (when he makes sure Dan is asleep) he takes a few of Dan's CDs and his portable CD player into the basement and plays them on the lowest volume he can manage. He does this either to figure out what the hell Dan listens to or to genuinely listen to it so he can think of him.

One day, Dan drags Herbert out to the record store so he could buy more cassettes. He says he was going to buy music for Herbert as well, which he reluctantly scoffed. He gave him a Cyndi Lauper CD as a joke (quick trivia! which album did Cyndi release in 1983?) which Herbert threw back to him sputtering angry remarks and caused people to look at the two in the store. Dan did get Herbert Oingo Boingo and Kraftwerk after all that which he wasn't too excited about. But Herbert did learn to love his music that Dan picked for him overtime.

Here's a bonus one. On the special occasion where Dan convinces Herbert to sleep (which he didn't know Herbert already took a shot of reagent beforehand) he just ends up rambling to Dan while he cuddles him. Things such as "Daniel there are over 60,000 miles of blood vessels in your body", "Dan can you feel the nerve here in your wrist?" and etcetera. Usually things Dan knows because he too is a doctor but not a "scientist" like Herbert says. He doesn't say anything about it though he usually lets Herbert ramble until his words become incoherent and sleepy.

If anyone is willing to draw these, go for it! Just please tag me or reblog it or something. :] I'm not into writing fanfiction or things like this, rather, I write scripts which is fun. Sorry if it sounds messy. I will just put my non-scripts here on tumblr.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Let's Go For a Drive

This is just a little comforting Dean drabble I scribbled - a little gift for @thatonewriter15 - you are the sweetest!

You wake up that morning on the wrong side of the world. Everything feels off - you feel out of sync, disconnected and alone.

You’re quiet all day, barely responding when Sam or Dean ask you a question, and you try all day to keep yourself busy somewhere away from their concerned glances. But eventually you end up in the library, on your laptop. It’s not unusual for the three of you to be silently doing your own things in the evening, but usually you feel comfortable, content. Tonight you’re neither, and it’s obvious to these men who know you so well.

You can feel Dean’s eyes on you from the other end of the table, and you stare resolutely at your own screen, avoiding eye contact. A few minutes pass, but then you hear him push his chair back and quietly walk up behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other braced on the edge of the table as he bends to speak softly next to your ear.

“Let’s go for a drive.”

You hesitate for a second, then lean back into him a little and nod. He straightens, moving so you can get up. Sam has quietly watched the whole exchange, and he smiles at you, his eyes soft, as you let Dean usher you toward the stairs.

The two of you walk out into the cool night air. Baby sits there shining in the sparse light of a pale moon, for the moment peeking through a break in the clouds. He opens the driver’s side door and gives you a hand in, letting you slide over to make room for him.

He doesn’t speak. Dean knows that sometimes words aren’t able to describe how you feel, or why you feel it. He understands the need to have someone just be with you as you go through the pain, or grief, or sadness; to hold you, silent and strong. He understands because he’s built like that, too.

He turns the key, Baby’s engine comes to life with a low rumble, and it washes over you like a soothing balm. He reaches over to push a cassette into the player, and Bob Seger’s Turn the Page fills the air with a soulful serenade, melancholy and soft in the background as he shifts into drive. Before he pulls onto the road, he lifts his arm, and you tuck yourself up close to his side. He bends to press his lips to your temple before he tightens his arm around you and pulls out onto the road, Baby’s headlights cutting a path through the dark.

You lay your head on his shoulder, your arm draped over his waist, slipping your hand beneath his shirt to lay your palm against his warm skin. Baby rolls along, miles disappearing beneath her wheels, Dean’s chest rumbling occasionally next to your ear as he hums along with the music. Every once in a while, he hugs you a little closer, his cheek against your hair, and comfort slowly seeps into your soul.

You are lulled into a half-sleepy haze, unaware of how long you’ve been riding, how many miles you have gone. Finally Dean clears his throat, smiling affectionately as you stir and yawn. “Gonna have to stop up here and get some gas,” he says softly. “You want anything?”

You lean your head back to look up at him, finally able to manage a smile. “No, I’m okay.”

He looks into your eyes for a moment, as if to verify your statement, and then bends to kiss your lips gently. “I’ll be right back.”

You listen to the sounds of him filling the tank, sounds you’ve heard a hundred times before. It’s familiar and real and good, and you smile to yourself. This was exactly what you needed, and he knew it. He always knows.

When he climbs back inside, he’s got a large bag of jerky, and you giggle a little. He just can’t go into a place like this and leave without it. He makes a little face at you, and then pulls you into his arms for a lingering, sweet kiss that leaves you tingling a little all over. “So, ready to head home?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’m ready.” You reach to put a hand to his face, your eyes shining into his. “Thank you.”

He kisses you again, his forehead resting against yours. “Any time, sweetheart.”

Tags for my lovelies:  @saenalife    @deanscarlett    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid      @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog           @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie    @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic    @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma    @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1    @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed    @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82  @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs   @emily-winchester  @hobby27    spnbaby-67

[becki-here]

Happy Thneedmas, dear @midzurugi !!

I found out about your oc's that related to Once-ler, so I decided that I can write a story about them!! It was a real challenge for me and it took more time than I expected so I'm very sorry it took so long. Happy New Year and hope you’ll enjoy this (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Summary: it's a short and simple story about Christmas, the Once-ler and his two adorable reception kids Twice and Thrice. Here is the link to post with information about them.

(Maybe OOC? I think that Once-ler is a bit too sweet here, and I'm sorry if the kids are too OOC, I tried to stick to the information I knew about them).

***

“Hey kids, wake up!” Once-ler said enthusiastically, as he looked into each of the children's rooms. Then he quickly moved to the kitchen.

Shortly after they entered the hallway, sleepy footsteps were heard, followed by the sluggish "good morning" from both of them.

“Good morning, wash up and get ready for breakfast, today we will prepare for the holidays,” he said, watching the children perk up and head for the bathroom. 

Once-ler walked over to the table, where the dough was ready. He slowly began to prepare both children's favourite dish, pancakes. 

Soon, the door to the kitchen opened abruptly, and the children happily entered the room. They heard Once-ler humming something like a Christmas carol and smiled at that.

“Father, do you need help with something?” Twice asked as she and her brother sat at the table.

“No, sweetheart, don't worry, I can handle it myself,” he smiled at her and took the first pancakes off the pan. He put them on two plates and placed them on the table in front of the children.

“I just want you to help me decorate the Christmas tree and the house.”

“But father, it's only the beginning of December,” Thrice said.

“Dear, if I had a day off earlier, we would have started preparing for Christmas on the first of December,” he laughed. “But the demand for our products always increases during the holidays, so I don't have much free time now.”

He took out the honey and syrup and put it all on the table. “But... I want to spend every free minute together with you two,” Once-ler also took out milk and two glasses and smiled again.

The children smiled back and finally started eating their breakfast, while Once-ler continued to bake. “Then of course we'll help,” Twice said. 

One-ler looked at them with satisfaction. It seemed that his calm smile didn't leave his face today. In fact, on days like this, he was especially aware of how much he wanted to give these children all the things he had missed so badly. One of those things was an excellent holiday.

A tall, fluffy Christmas tree stood in the living room, waiting to be taken care of. A pile of large cardboard boxes covered the fireplace.

“Father, this Christmas tree is just incredible!” said Thrice when he entered the room. He walked over to the tree, touched a branch, then took a breath. “Oh, and it smells great.”

“Yeah, I know,” Once-ler looked at his son warmly and chuckled. “I'm sure you won't find a better Christmas tree in the whole town. It was delivered and set up while you were still asleep.”

After that, Once-ler went to the TV and inserted an old cassette into the player. Some old cartoon started playing.

“Could we put on something... newer?” asked Thrice, looking at the screen.

“Hey, it's a classic! And it's not that old, actually,” he muttered and went to unpack the toy boxes.

The jangly soundtrack played softly. Twice laughed and shrugged her shoulders at this as she looked at her brother. The teens walked closer to the boxes.

“You know, when I was little, we couldn't have a Christmas tree like this. We haven’t had many decorations either, but all of them are extremely beautiful as far as I remember. We haven’t decorated the house much, but we cooked a lot of different dishes. I really loved it," he took the garland out of the box and smiled warmly, a little lost in his memories.

“Actually, your grandmother wasn't a fan of Christmas, so we don't have any special traditions…”

Once-ler glanced at the children, who were listening to his story in confusion. A little surprise was clearly visible on their faces. Their father rarely talked about his past, especially his childhood. Every such moment was worth its weight in gold. Once-ler smiled and easily tossed Twice a skein of garland. She did not expect it, but she caught it skillfully. He took the end of the garland and climbed on a chair. 

“You should hang the garlands first,” he explained. “So that you can hang the Christmas ornaments later easily.” 

The children hung on his every word as if it were vital information. Once-ler wound the garland in a circle starting from the top, while Twice supported and helped wind it from the bottom. He plugged it into the extension cord and the whole tree shone with bright-colored lights. Now the excitement and festive mood began to fill the whole room.

At this time, Thrice sat down on the floor and opened the box, which contained a bunch of different Christmas decorations. He picked up a blue horse and looked at it with admiration.

“All these Christmas ornaments are new, you didn't bring any from your family home, as you were going to?” Thrice asked.

“Well no... I decided that we need new ones. The old family ornaments have no value, and as I said, there weren't many of them. But we will give value to these new ones once they are on our Christmas tree," he went to the box and took out a green bauble decorated with gold patterns. He carefully hung it on a middle branch. 

“And there it is. The first ball on the tree and now the decorating has officially begun,” he said playfully.

“There are many similar baubles here,” Twice said, looking into the box. "We should start with these and hang them symmetrically, and then we can take on the others.”

“You're right as always, dear,” he put his hand on her shoulder. "Let's start with these.”

Gradually, more and more coloured baubles appeared on the tree. Then the little reindeer ran around it, glass icicles and cones grew on it. All three of them were jokingly arguing about where to hang which ornament and lively discussing the upcoming holidays and their plans for them. A pleasant family atmosphere filled the room, while the music from an old movie added its own charm to the situation.

“I have something else,” Once-ler said when they were done with the tree. He reached into one box that stood apart from the others, as if it were hidden. He pulled out something of a deep red colour.

“Oh, it’s Christmas stockings!” Thrice said with delight and took a stocking with his name neatly embroidered on it.

“They're so beautiful... Are they handmade?” Twice asked as she took her one.

“Yes, of course... I actually made them. For the three of us,” Once-ler said and laughed lightly. The children's eyes widened with surprise and some joy.

“That's very cool, thank you!” Thrice said zealously. 

“Yes, thank you,” Twice said softly.

“You're welcome, darlings. I was very happy to make them,” Once-ler slightly blushed at the children's reaction. He looked at his stocking and slowly read his name to himself.

“Well... We also have to wrap presents for all relatives. But I haven't bought them yet, we'll have to postpone that,” he thought out loud. Then he thought about when he would find a free time to do that.

“I could draw some little cards,” Thrice suggested. “As a nice addition to the gifts we've given them.”

“That sounds nice, I hope they'll appreciate it,” Once-ler realized that in fact each of them was expecting an envelope with some money in it, so usual gifts would be just a traditional formality. 

“Do we have to invite all of our close relatives to Christmas Eve?” Twice asked, a little displeased.

“Yes, of course we do. They're waiting for an invitation, and they'll never turn down a dinner,” he smiled a little irritated. But he quickly calmed down. “Maybe one day one of them will invite us as well.”

“I doubt that very much,” Twice hummed.

Thrice looked away awkwardly, but deep down he agreed with his sister.

“I know that you think they're not the best people. But they're still my family. And that means your family, too,” he sighed and thought as he sat down on the floor by the Christmas tree and took some tinsel out of the box. “And there are certain values and principles that must be upheld in a family.”

He picked at the tinsel, squeezed it in his hands, trying to gather his thoughts together.

“I would like to convey these values to you,” he looked up at the girl and then at the boy. "For example, about Christmas. This holiday is not only about decorating a Christmas tree, gifts, or the birthday of Jesus Christ. It's about a family coming together. Just how we are now. And this holiday encourages you to do something good for your neighbour, especially for your relatives. Do you understand?"

“Yes, of course... It's obvious,” Thrice answered and sighed to himself.

Twice nodded when Once-ler's gaze settled on her.

“These words seem like very simple truths, but it still should be said out loud. I would have been grateful to my mother if she had told me that,” he smiled a little sadly and finally got up from the floor, with the tinsel in his hand. “Well... Let's finish with the stockings.”

Twice looked at her socking and carefully ran her thumb over the golden embroidery. “We can hang them on little hooks and decorate them with the tinsel,” she said, glancing cautiously at Once-ler.

“Yes, my dear, that's a wonderful idea,” he smiled gently at her. “I've taken care of that, too.” 

He left the tinsel and reached into the same box where the stockings were. He took out three small hooks and began to carefully attach them to the mantelpiece. Thrice jumped up and hung his stocking on the leftmost hook. Once-ler and Twice followed suit. Then Twice decorated the fireplace with bright green tinsel. Once-ler looked at the fireplace with smile and then proudly at both of his children.

***

A loud laugh suddenly filled the room. The children were listening to another strange story from their father. They didn't believe some of his words, how ridiculous it sounded. But it was definitely true. Classical Christmas music was playing from the old record player. Outside the window, the snow was still falling calmly, preparing the entire valley for winter.

[nerdieforpedro]

Day Nineteen - Kite

Word Count: 694

Warnings: anxiety, brief mention of alcohol, FEELINGS

Notes: I enjoy writing about this female reader and Marcus Pike, did this inadvertly become a mini-series?! 👀 What am I gonna do with these two?

Main Masterlist / March Spring Prompts 2024 / Writing Challenges

Your therapist is always coming up with some tasks for you to do. First it was the paintings which were quite fun and led to Marcus Pike, the sort of man in fantasy books who’s alive and an FBI agent. You find yourself questioning if he’s real or if you may need to talk to your therapist to recommend to your primary doctor that a serious change in meds is needed. Your reminder that you in fact not clinically insane is not when he kisses you, that’s a dream-like state he puts you in. 

It's moments like this when you’re doing something that you’d never think to do alone. Like the other night when he found some bar that you’d never heard of, the food was delicious, and the music was perfect. The band even had a CD that the two of you purchased. You didn’t tell Marcus that you haven’t owned a CD player in well over a decade, but you didn’t want to not support that band, they had been awesome! Plus, Marcus not only had CDs but cassette tapes so you could listen to it over at his place. You’ve been to his apartment, not for that, it was late and you really enjoy your tequila it was regrettable showing Marcus your sleepy drunk side, dozing off in the car and not remembering how you made it into his bed. 

Thankfully, you were able to salvage that mishap by offering to help Marcus with something he promised his nephew the following weekend: flying a kite. Two educated people could figure it out right? One just needs wind, some speed, and a goof grip on the string thing, right?

Both you and Marcus found this to be incorrect. The sacrifice of three kites wouldn’t be forgotten as both you and Marcus plop down in the grass park near his apartment complex where many of the agents live. The laughter at the situation and yourselves was loud as it was frequent. Two adults could not figure out a children’s pastime that’s been done for generations…well pretty sure it has. You roll onto Marcus’s chest and bop his nose gently.

“You’ll just have to tell your nephew and you, and your girlfriend couldn’t figure it out. It’s a lot more difficult than it seems. Even FBI agents have trouble.” Marcus’ eyes go wide for a moment, and he places his hand on the middle of your back.

“My girlfriend huh? That’s the first time you’ve said it and we’ve been at this nearly two months.” Tilting your head, you want to correct him, but damn he’s right. That’s a problem.

“Um…It’s not that I haven’t wanted to. I just, didn’t feel the need to say it. Though, I guess I should be more forthcoming with these types of things, huh…” Shaking your head, you choose to bury your face in his warm chest and Pike, being the man he is, softly plants a kiss on your forehead and lets you stay in place. Hiding however feebly for a few minutes. He usually picks up on small tells and ticks that tells him your mood and what you might need from him. It’s then you realize that you’re not sure of what his might be. Looking up, he’s just gently smiling. “You should ask me for more. Not just this kite issue and given that we’ve damaged three of them I owe you at this point.” A nervous chuckle has the agent sit up and pull you to sit next to him with his arm across your back at your hip.

“I have plenty, I have you sweetheart. It’s more than enough.” 

You can hear your therapist telling you to weight your options before speaking and ‘pause for the cause.’ Even you know you shouldn’t say it, just keep it next to your heart. The need to ask this incredibly kind man to marry you. Still might be kinda soon for that since you haven’t told him you love him, but that would be implied right?

Wait did you ask him to marry you? Did you just ask Marcus Pike for his hand in marriage?

[thebreakfastgenie]

Classic rock really makes me feel things in a way modern music doesn't but I think I conditioned myself into this. We used to listen to the classic rock station on the 45 minute drive to school because we didn't have very many options and our car had a tape deck but no CD player and for some reason my parents didn't buy a lot of cassettes for themselves so once we outgrew Raffi we didn't have many options. So we'd listen to the classic rock station and I was usually in a state of either emotional turmoil about not wanting to go to school or relief and profound relaxation about being done with school for the day. More importantly, though, I was already at this tender age chronically sleep-deprived so I got a lot of my sleep in the back of the car. The afternoon drives in particular with a lot of very warm sun coming in and that car-induced sleepiness which I was very prone to at the time on top of the sleep-deprivation created a physical state almost akin to a trance.

[denim-mixtapes]

Showstopper - The Reprise

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Summary: It's the Sunday after Thanksgiving and the gang finds out what happened over the weekend. Warnings: Just some general making out, language, Steve and Robin being annoying. Mentions of sex, but very brief.

[Part 1] [Part 3] [Part 4] <- Coming Soon! [AO3]

A/N: hahaha get it? get it? The Reprise cause it's the much shorter follow up to the first one and also theater/acting puns? am I trying too hard? probably but this is fun. ANYWAY, this is a direct sequel and doesn't make much sense without the first part, so I would recommend reading that one first if you're just coming across this! Part 3, the Christmas Special, is already in the works and I'm hoping to put it out before the Holiday but we can only hope at this point. Enjoy!!

Time seems to slip away when you’re kissing Eddie. 

Minutes melt into hours that pass without your knowledge, the sleepy Sunday morning giving way to early afternoon as you’re distracted wrapped up in each other, and it’s about to become a problem. 

Back when you were going to be spending all weekend back home, you and Robin came up with a plan. You were supposed to arrive back in town in the late afternoon, so Steve, still somehow acting as Robin’s chauffeur even after all these years, would bring her back from Hawkins around the same time. The four of you would get dinner at your favorite diner, debrief on the holiday weekend, and then the boys would head back to Hawkins, sparing you the last half hour of the drive you would make taking Eddie home. 

Except you’ve been back since late Friday morning.  

Sleep hovered just behind you both for the length of the drive, music low as the scenery passed in a blur and Eddie quietly hummed along. You tried your best to stay awake and keep him company, but the gentleness of his voice and the ever-present feeling of his fingers stroking your neck, tickling at the hairs at the nape of it lulled you to sleep a couple of times. He would laugh each time you woke, insisting it was okay if you wanted to actually try and sleep but that didn’t stop you from resisting it. So when you got back to your dorm building – still quiet and mostly uninhabited – you both clambered into your tiny twin bed, pressing close to each other and letting the nap take over you. 

You enjoyed spending the weekend together, different now that it was just he and you.  Sure, Eddie has always given affection freely, and to anyone and everyone who would accept it, but this Eddie is different. This Eddie doesn’t hesitate to grab you by the back of the neck and pull you in for a toe-curling kiss when you’re supposed to be paying attention to Ghoulies. This Eddie doesn’t stop his hands from wandering as you lay with your head on his shoulder. This Eddie walks with his hand stuffed in your back pocket as you cross campus to get some food, and even pulls you closer possessively when another student walks by. 

You didn’t dare ask what all this meant for your friendship, lest you pop the divine little bubble you’ve created together in the quietness of your four cinder block walls. 

So here you are on Sunday, still nothing more than a tangle of limbs and warm laughter hushed between lazy presses of the lips. The beanbag beneath you rustles as you bring your foot up, bent at the knee to bracket Eddie’s hip. Automatically, he hooks his fingers behind your knee to pull you even closer, stubble rough against your chin, tongue exploring the depths of your mouth. 

Hearty hums and happy little giggles from the both of you are drowned out by the cassette player on your desk, blanketing you in familiar, heavy guitar riffs and a rapid drumbeat that rattles in your chest (but maybe that’s just your heart beating rapidly against your ribs). 

The music also deafens the sound of Steve and Robin’s footsteps and their bickering growing louder as they approach the door. 

Fingers curl into the thick curls in the back of his head and you push up onto your elbow to turn the both of you, hovering over him now as he continues his assault on your lips and – 

“Honey, I’m hooo-ly shit!!”

The door slamming against the cement wall and the sound of Robin’s voice startles you apart, cheeks aflame and breath ragged. If your heart was racing before, it’s slamming now. Though their arrival scared you enough to break your kiss, Eddie’s hold on the back of your neck didn’t let you go too far, and it’s safe to say you’ve both been caught red-handed. 

Time stills. 

You knew that this would come up in your debrief of the weekend. You knew that your bubble would pop and the moments you shared together couldn’t stay between just the two of you, but this is not how you imagined your friends finding out. 

“What the actual fuck, you guys?” Steve forces out, the humor and disbelief in his voice giving away that he’s not actually all that angry. Hands on his hips, in his natural disgruntled babysitter state, he narrows his eyes in the direction where you and Eddie are still tangled together, both of you too stunned to move. “You know you don’t have to trick us into thinking you’re dating, right!?” 

“I– well, we…we were just–” Eddie stammers beneath you, and when he talks with his hands in true Eddie fashion, you take the opportunity to roll away from his hold.

You only wish you could keep on rolling under the bed…or away from this moment. 

“Oh, this is rich!” Robin chuckles, slowly clapping and trying not to snort alongside her laughter. The second you stand up, she’s rushing you, holding onto your upper arms and giving your body a little shake as she rambles, “tell me everything. How did we get here? Are you two a thing now? This is so exciting, Steve!” Dropping your arms, she turns back to Steve with wild eyes and a smile that seems like it can’t get any bigger. Still, it grows. “Didn’t I tell you they would come back as a real couple?” 

Until this point, you didn’t think it was possible to feel all the blood rushing from your face, eyes like dinner plates. “Whoa there, pump the brakes.” 

Eddie finally finds his feet again, springing up beside you with just as much nervous energy. “I wouldn’t say that. But…” turning toward you, his eyes soften and he holds out a hand, warm and gentle when you take it. He strokes his thumb along the back of your knuckles. “Something?” 

You nod, lips pursed to cage in a nervous guffaw at his choice of words (or lack thereof). In the year that you’ve known him, Eddie Munson has never been at a loss for words. “We haven’t, uh, talked about it yet.” 

Your roommate huffs her disbelief and rolls her eyes, “of course you haven’t! Idiots, all of you.” 

“Don’t lump me into this,” Steve scoffs and holds his hands up in defense. 

“Come on then,” she prompts, taking your hand and dragging you toward the door. You throw Eddie an apologetic grimace over your shoulder. “Let’s go to the Sunrise, I need a burger. And details.” 

— 

Plates pushed to the center of the table, glasses empty, a too-large slice of cake for the four of you to share already ordered, you’ve finally recounted the events of your Thanksgiving (sparing the more intimate details). The way your parents treated the both of you, the way he calmed your nerves in tense moments and the way you defended him to your Mom that was far too sincere to be an act. Reminiscent of Thanksgiving dinner, Eddie’s hand barely leaves the comfort of your thigh, though now it’s softer, more affectionate and less teasing. Color rises on his cheeks when you mention how different the first kiss in your bedroom felt. You bump him with your shoulder then, laughing softly. Neither of you mention anything too specific, but when you fade the story out and Steve points between the two of you with a quirked brow, Eddie nods his confirmation, earning a whispered, “nice,” from the other boy. 

“Do you have class tomorrow?” Robin asks when all is said and done. 

“That’s the question you have for me right now?’ You ask, dumbfounded. 

“Uh, yeah,” she scoffs, “it’s relevant, I promise.” 

“Well, you’ve been living with me all semester, have I ever had Monday/Wednesday classes?” Both boys snort at your sarcasm. 

Right as the waiter drops off your dessert, Robin nods and tries to subtly kick Steve under the table (she is not subtle about it at all). “Right, duh, me either. Hey, Steve, I left…that thing at mom and dad’s. Can you take me back?” 

He protests, words muffled through the too-big mouthful of cake. “What!? We just-” Another, harder kick. He swallows dramatically, “OH YEAH, very important, that thing.” They both stand in a hurry, Steve throwing a couple bills on the table to cover their food before starting for the door. 

Robin leans in towards both of you and whispers harshly, “talk to each other. Figure your shit out, so that I can sleep in my own bed tomorrow.” 

From the door they both wave and Steve calls out, “be back to pick you up tomorrow, Munson! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

The air is still around you, your fate sealed by the tinkling of the bell above the door. Both of you are quiet, Eddie’s thumb still absent-mindedly stroking at the top of your thigh where his hand rests, and you poke quietly at the dessert in front of you, not all that interested in eating it all of a sudden. 

You know you need to talk about it. You know it. 

If you had to venture a guess, you’d say that the outcome of this conversation could only be good, but still something nagged at the back of your mind. Some buried insecurity that pulls at your nerves as you set your fork down and turn in the booth to face him. Elbow propped up on the back of the bench and head in your hand, you sigh. 

“Those were some spectacular theatrics,” Eddie says, breaking the tension. You both giggle. “Even for them.”

“Yeah,” another sigh, “they’re right though, we should probably talk.” 

Eddie mirrors you, tucking one leg up on the booth and resting his elbow on the seat back as well, but he holds out the same hand with an encouraging look. You can’t help but smile as you take the hand offered to you, warm and comforting. 

Neither of you know how to start, it’s obvious, but after another quiet moment he speaks up. It’s awkward, nervous even, a far cry from the usual confidence Eddie carries himself with. When he looks up into your eyes, there’s a vulnerability there that you’ve only ever seen once before, when he was performing a new acoustic version of one of his songs. 

“So I…have really enjoyed this weekend.” He says hesitantly, clearing his throat and shifting a little in his seat. He squeezes gently where your hands are joined, as if to make sure you’re still there. “And not just the ‘messing with your family’ part.” 

You interject the only way you know how, with humor to hide your own anxiety and a little bit of a tease. “Yeah, you’re right the sex part was pretty stellar, too.”

For only the second time in your time knowing him, you’ve rendered Eddie speechless once again, stuttering out his next response. “W-well, you know,that’s – that’s not exactly the point I was trying to make but it is a very good point.” You squeeze back, wrinkling your nose and giggling softly, emphasizing that you were only teasing. “It was all great. I liked getting to see a new side of you – and I realize now that you can still make that dirty, I see it in your eyes, don’t you dare!” 

Both of you are laughing a little manically, your heart fluttering nervously in your chest. It almost hurts to swallow the dry comment you were about to make, but you press on. “Ugh, fine! I get what you mean, though,” tugging his hand into your lap, you cover it with your free hand, taking it in both of yours. It’s stupid, really, how this is what’s making you blush. Not even 12 hours ago you were having sex in the communal showers and now you’re here, blushing up a storm in the fluorescent light of the diner because you have to talk about your feelings. “I’ve kind of always had a crush on you, you know that?” 

“Always!?” He inquires, eyebrows shooting up behind the mess of his bangs as his smile broadens into something a little more mocking. His hand turns in your own, breaking your hold to tickle teasingly at your palm. “Even when you thought I was a home invader?” 

“Maybe not then.” 

“Oh, I did.” 

Your brows knit together in concern, “you did what?” 

“Had a thing for you, even then. Maybe some would call it a crush,” he shrugs, “Okay, I would call it a crush. Like I said the other day, that threat did it for me.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

The quiet laugh you share is interrupted by the waiter, who has already taken Steve and Robin’s payment and boxed up your cake without you noticing. He asks the question everyone seems to be asking tonight, “alright kids, are we together or separate tonight?” 

Before you have any time to answer, Eddie’s handing over a stack of cash and insisting it’s all on one bill. When the waiter walks away, Eddie silences your protests with an adamant shake of the head. “I know it’s no dive bar, but consider it our first official date. The first of…many? If you’ll have me.” The confidence is starting to seep back into his tone, but there’s still a hesitation. It’s the same nagging insecurity that was ebbing at you moments ago, the fear of rejection despite how well the conversation seems to be going. 

Dropping his hand, you opt to hold onto his face by both cheeks, squishing his plush lips into a cartoonish pucker. His smile is still clear through his smushed face, and you nod excitedly, leaning in to whisper, “I’d be honored to go on many dates with you, Ed.” Giggling at your wording, you bridge the gap and kiss him silly.

[stobinesque]

phryctoria | chapter 5: five by two (chi)

Sometimes your gay awakening is just having someone to show you it’s possible. Sometimes love is a lightning bug.

[1][2][3][4][5][6 & 7] | [Read on AO3]

On the way back from the bookstore Robin cranks up the volume on the beamer’s cassette player, and they both scream-sing along to the mixtape they’d finally finished at 4am this morning, after a sleepless night. Steve drums his hands on the steering wheel to the beat of “You Spin Me Right Round (Like A Record),” while wind whips through his hair from the cracked windows.

“Okay, so—I’ve got this loose floorboard back in my room—”

“Yeah, Robs, I’m aware.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to tell you something.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Well you can’t exactly bring your stuff home with you, can you?”

Steve is silent for a few beats, the mood tanking even while Pete Burns sings All I know is that to me / You look like you're lots of fun. “Yeah, I guess not.” Steve turns to look over at Robin, whose face has gone all serious. “What about you, though? Are you sure it’s safe to have it at your place?”

“Steve, you’ve met my parents—they’re sometimes weird about boundaries, but they don’t go snooping through my stuff. Definitely not to the point of prying up loose floorboards. Is that…?” Robin trails off, the concern in her voice evident, and Steve looks over to see that she’s frowning. “Is that something your dad does?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t really keep stuff in my room for him to find.” Really, he tries not to own or possess anything that he isn’t prepared for his dad to find anywhere. (Aside from the occasional pot stash, which he always buries in a small tin in the flower bed whenever he has enough left over to warrant it. Most of the time he just doesn’t buy more than he’s planning to smoke through before his parents get back from whatever trip they’re on.) “Anyway. That’s not the point. What if they do find it? Like, I don’t know, one of us forgets to put it away, or something.”

Robin bites at her lip and turns away to stare out the window. Her shoulders hitch up around her ears. “I don’t know. I don’t think...I mean I’ve never heard them say anything, you know? And, like, they were both hippies when they were younger, or whatever. It’d be weird for them to be homophobic, right?”

“Adults never make any sense.”

Robin huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Right.” She twists one of her rings around her finger. “There’s no way to be totally sure of anything, right? But keeping it at my place is definitely safer than keeping it at yours.”

Steve sighs. “We really need to find another job.”

“Holy non-sequitur, Batman!”

“Non-sequi-what?”

“Random subject switch,” she explains, waving her hand.

“Hey, no, not random!” He pulls a hand off the wheel to flap a hand at her. “If one of us gets kicked out it may as well be both of us getting kicked out. And I don’t know about you, but I do not have enough saved up from Scoops to try to get an apartment.”

Robin grimaces. “That’s a good point.”

“I’m full of good points, Bobbie.”

She flashes him a lewd smile. “Not yet you aren’t,” she says with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle.

“I think at this point we just have to accept that you enjoy talking about my sex life, Buckley.”

Robin gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest like he’s wounded her. “I can’t believe you would say something so grossly offensive.”

“I hope you know that you’ve doomed yourself to a play-by-play the next time I get laid.”

“Ugh. Being friends with you is such a burden.”

“You love me, asshole.”

“God fucking help me, dingus. I do.”

“We headed back home?” Steve asks as they pass by the ‘Welcome to Hawkins Hell!’ sign.

Robin lifts her head from where it’d dropped against the window and yawns wide. “Wazzat?”

“Home.” Steve turns to look at her. “Are we going?”

Robin flops her head against the headrest, looking at him with a sleepy smile. “Keep driving?”

“Sure thing.” He keeps driving; no particular destination in mind, following backroads along the edges of Hawkins. The sun is still bright and warm, but low enough on the horizon that it shines through the windows and lights Robin up in gold.

She giggles off to his side.

“What? What’s so funny?” he shoots her a quick, suspicious glare.

Robin reaches across the center console to poke him in the face. “You’re shiiiiny.”

Steve slaps her hand away. “Will you stop? I’m trying to drive here! Do you want us to crash?”

“No, no.” Robin clears her throat and straightens in the seat as she speaks, making her voice all low and silly-serious. “Certainly not, monsieur.”

“See, no—what is that? ‘Monsieur’?”

Robin giggle-snorts, and then her face scrunches up as her laugh transforms into a full-on cackle. “Hey Stevie?”

“What.”

Robin flops back into his space, leaning in close to whisper conspiratorially, “Did you know you’re reaaallly easy to irritate. Like, so easy?”

Steve rolls his eyes, gently pushing her away with one arm. “Yeah, well, did you know that you act like you’re three drinks under the table whenever you take a nap for longer than 30 minutes? Huh?”

Robin yawns again, stretching her arms high above her head. “Absolutely worth it,” she says, sounding smug.

Steve shakes his head but can’t bite back the smile she brings to his face. He clicks back into a conscious awareness of their surroundings and realizes they’re passing by Weathertop. (Try as he might to deny it, the kids’ names for places have fixed themselves in his mind.)

He pulls off and parks the beamer on the side of the road, circling around the front to pull Robin out of the passenger seat. “C’mon, Bobbin, we’ve got a hill to climb.”

Halfway up, Robin suddenly starts flapping a hand against his chest. “Hey, hey! How’s that song go? The hills are alive, dah-da-dah daaah dah, you know?”

Steve smirks. “Aren’t your ears supposed to be little geniuses? Robs, the next lines are literally the title of the movie.”

“Pretty sure it was a musical first.”

“This does not actually help your case, you know that, right?”

“Whatever, dingus. Just tell me how the song goes.”

“You sure you wanna hear me sing?”

“Okay, you’ll notice how I didn’t say ‘sing how it goes for me,’ you could just tell me the words.”

“No, no, now you’re going to be subjected to the musical stylings of the Harrington family singers, because,” Steve leans into her space and starts singing, sickly sweet, “My heart wants to sing every soooong it hears.” His head is almost fully resting against Robin’s shoulder as he looks up at her with a shit eating grin.

“Oh, my god, get off me.” She shoves him away, laughing.

Steve lets himself be pushed, taking a couple dramatic, stumbling steps away from her before righting himself and drifting back into her space. “You know the next lines have always been my favorite, though?”

“Do you have the whole song memorized?!”

“...yeah?” Steve frowns at her. “Robs, it’s one of my favorite movies! I thought that’s why you asked!”

She shakes her head, looking at him a little dumbstruck. “Nope, I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that little Harrington factoid.”

“Well…yeah. My mom really loved it, so I guess I just watched it a lot growing up? Especially when my dad was out of town—before she started going on the trips with him—because then we could sing along.”

Robin opens her mouth to say something, before seeming to make the conscious decision not to approach the whole ‘you couldn’t sing along to the movie about being forbidden from singing?’ thing with a ten foot pole, and snapping her mouth shut again. “Huh.” She takes a couple more striding steps forward with a pensive look on her face. “So...how does the next part go?”

He smiles at her, and even without being able to see his own face he can tell that it’s radiant. “My heart…wants to beat like the wings of the birds that rise from the lake to the trees.” He looks at her, and he can feel the way his gaze has become just a little too intense.

“Birds, huh?” She knocks his shoulder with her own, a gentle smile on her face.

“Yep. Always loved ‘em,” he says, his heart feeling a little gooey in his chest.

“Ugh, get away from me,” she says, shoving him away again. “You’re such a fucking sap, it’s disgusting. Where was this two months ago?”

“Mmm, don’t know if you knew this, Birdy, but I am very gay. I think I was probably driving girls away accidentally-on-purpose.”

Robin gives him a small nod. “Solid theory.”

As they begin to crest the top of the hill, Robin turns to look at him. “You have a really nice voice, you know?”

“Do I?”

“Oh, totally—like, two whole steps up from Kermit, at least.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m so touched.”

“As you should be.”

“As we both should be,” he says with a playful little leer. They’ve reached the top of the hill, and Steve flops onto his back with a giant exhale. Robin just stands there, peering down at him, so he reaches up to her with a beckoning gesture. “Come down here.”

Robin takes his hand and lets herself be pulled onto the grass. She settles into a lax position, her arms hovering out at her sides, like a snow angel at rest. Steve folds his own hands over his chest, like he’s been posed in a coffin. The two of them stare up at the clouds rolling past in silence.

“Do you think you’ll try to find someone to get friendly with when we go out?” Steve asks after a while.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” She pauses, and Steve tracks a sparrow flying overhead. “It’s weird, because I don’t think I wanna just dive in headfirst with something casual, you know? But at the same time, it’s like—why let that hold me back? ‘Cause what are the chances there are any more of us out here in Hawkins?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know, I was never good at stats or whatever, but it’d be weirder if there were only two of us, right? And, like, we only know about each other because of…” He waves a hand around to encompass the Russians, the torture; the fucking truth serum…

“Yeah.”

“So, that just goes to show that if there are other gay people in Hawkins, they’re probably also keeping it pretty close to the chest.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t exactly improve my chances.”

“Point.”

“I just. If I do meet someone, I don’t want it to just be some casual thing, right? I’d want to, like, get to know her and go on dates and…and hold hands, you know?”

“Yeah.” They lay in silence, watching the sun make its slow creep toward the horizon. Steve turns to look at her. “We’re losing light.”

Robin turns to meet his gaze, and smiles. “Wanna stay ‘til the stars come out?”

It’s something they do now. One of the routines they’ve fallen into since Starcourt. Sometimes the sleepless nights will take them out to an empty field under a canopy of starlight.

“Sure.” Silence settles between them again, and Steve turns back to stare up at the sky. The world around them is abuzz with chirping crickets, and the occasional croaking toad. For awhile, Steve just settles into the little symphony. The pocket of peace out here. But eventually, he has to break the silence again. “So…are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“The whole ‘I’ve never said “lesbian” out loud,’ thing.”

Robin is quiet for several moments. “I don’t know if I can.”

Steve thinks about turning to look at her again but decides against it. Sometimes it’s easier not to be looked at. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just…it’s just a whole thing, right? Like, I don’t know, maybe it’s weird to think of it this way, but it’s—it’s a noun. And maybe that shouldn’t matter because, like, I don’t know, woman is a noun too, I guess. But it’s just like…weird? To think of this as being something that I am, as like…I don’t know.” Steve hears the grass rustle next to him. “I don’t think I’m making any sense.”

“No, no…I think I’m following. It’s like…what if it’s suddenly all that you are, and there isn’t room for anything else?”

“Yeah.” She sounds more confident now, like maybe she’s on the right track. “And, like, what if all that I am is…wrong? And I know that it’s fucked up to think about it like that, but—”

“But it’s hard to talk yourself out of thinking something you’ve spent your whole life hearing?”

“Exactly.”

Steve hums, weighing his next words in his head. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think that all of Robin Buckley is pretty fucking rad. And I know there’s more to you than being gay. You’re also—and, fine, I will admit it—the funniest person that I know, you’re scary good at solving puzzles, you can barely walk ten paces without tripping over yourself, you’re so, so incredibly brave, and protective, and caring. You have a fucking weird obsession with bugs—”

Robin’s hand darts out to smack his shoulder. “They’re cool!”

“They’re creepy!” Steve says, jumping out of her warpath.

“Okay, one, no they’re not, and two, even if some are, you can’t just paint a whole phylum with that broad of a brush.”

“If I agree that some bugs aren’t creepy, can we get back on topic?”

“…fine.”

“Okay, so, what I was saying, is that you’ve got so much going on that, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no risk of you only every being one thing, and, more importantly: all ofthe things that you are—even the fucking bug love—are the things that make you my favorite person, and you’re not allowed to say mean things about my best friend. So there.”

Robin is quiet for so long that the crickets seem to multiply in volume.

“Hey, Rob…you OD over there?”

Robin cracks a small laugh. “No, I…I’m…” The grass rustles again, and he turns his head to see that Robin has rolled onto her side to face him. He turns onto his own side to face her right back. “Hey, Fen?” she whispers.

“Yeah, Birdy?”

Robin takes a deep breath. “I’m a lesbian.” The second the words are out her mouth she breaks into a wide, relieved smile. A dam seems to burst, and suddenly she’s rolling onto her back and laugh-crying up to the heavens.

Steve rolls onto his back as well, and as he does a lightning bug—one of the few bugs that he will acknowledge sits in the “totally not creepy” category—flits past his head. He reaches up to scoop it out of the air, and to his right he sees Robin doing the same. They turn their heads just enough to look at each other again, each holding a firefly on the back of their hand. The light on Robin’s flares, and a moment later the butt of Steve’s lights up too

“You think they’re talking to each other?”

“Yeah, that’s how it works right? Like, um…” Steve searches around for the word and snaps the fingers of his free hand when he finds it. “Like Morse Code!”

“Yeah.”

“Wish we were lighting bugs. Then we could talk all the time without having to say anything at all. Plus—we’d be really pretty.”

“We can already do that,” Robin says. “And we’re both really pretty.”

“Touché.”

Steve watches the bug crawl across the back of his hand, fascinated by the way its little antennae flick and flutter.

“I don’t think you’d wanna be a lightning bug,” Robin says.

“Why not?”

“Because—no one actually appreciates them, y’know? Like, they think they do, but really they just wanna capture them and bottle them up for how pretty they are. And then they stuff you into a jar, and you slowly suffocate, and with each passing second your light shines a little less brightly, until it’s just dimly flickering, and so muted that you can’t even signal to anyone around you how close you are to dying.”

Steve blinks slowly, trying to process everything she’s just said. “... what the fuck, Robs?”

Robin jabs him in the shoulder, but light enough so as not to jostle him. “What I’m saying…is that I like you all glowy and free.”

The lighting bug has now made its way halfway down Steve’s arm. It opens its wing and flutters off. A moment later, Robin’s follows.

“Okay, I think that’s enough sad fossilizing for one day,” Steve says, pushing himself upright. Once he’s standing, he holds out his hand to Robin and hauls her to her feet.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Don't Worry. I'm Just Sleeping. Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summary: since I'm in my fanfic writer era, I saw the photo above and wanted to write about it. The reader and Roger just have some cute moments together.

Warnings: Pretty clear, no smut or suggestive talk beside a comment at the end, Roger vents a little, just really fluffy.

Note: I really appreciate feedback in the comments, so if you liked it I'd love for you to comment!

Enjoy!

You always hung out with the band in the studio. They loved it when you gave your input on their sound. Roger especially loved it. He loved watching your eyes light up as he roars into a microphone or as his limps bashed down onto his drums.

He also got worried at times. No, not worried. Nervous. He was always insecure about his music, and he was definitely self-conscious about his solo music.

It didn’t matter to him if the critics or fans didn’t enjoy his music. All that mattered was that you liked it. He often kept song ideas away from you out of fear of you not liking them. You always had to beg him to play his latest new idea on his honey-coloured telecaster.

Roger was sat, or a more appropriate term would be laid, on the couch. It was upholstered similar to the tweed jacket Freddie wore, scratchy and rather unappealing. 

The boys were off on a coffee run, so Roger had allowed himself to take a break. You sat in a swivel chair across from him. You watched intently. He wore a pair of flimsy headphones plugged into a walkman cassette player. 

You couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not. He looked like an angel. Your eyes trace along the heavy curves of his eyelids, trailing down to the slope of his nose like a ladybug leaving a trail of breadcrumbs with her army of ants following behind.

Your gaze lands on his lips, soft and pillowy from appearance, but you knew they were chapped and on the verge of peeing from the long hours of working with minimal water breaks and not a stick of chapstick in sight.

The walkman rests atop his chest as it slowly moves up and down with the rhythm of his calm breathing. You wanted to breathe him in. You journey farther down his body to his lower stomach and hips area. His circle sunglasses lay in his lap. He loved those sunglasses. They always reminded him of his idol, John Lennon. You remember comforting him after Lennons' death. He cried for almost an hour, and you couldn't help but cry with him.

You were secretly undressing him as you gazed upon his sleeping, or not sleeping, body. You were reminded of Schrödinger's cat. Schrödinger's cat is a quantum mechanics theory that states that if you put a cat in a box with something that could kill the cat, such as poison in a glass bottle, and the glass bottle was to be shattered at any random moment, the cat would be exposed to the poison. In a sense, until you opened the box, the cat was considered both alive and dead.

This was the exact paradox you were in at the moment, but rather than it being a life or death situation for an innocent feline, it was to be if your boyfriend went for a nap or not. You wanted an answer to this unfeasible situation. You could approach Roger and scratch his little blonde head like a cat, then go off on a tangent about the theory and bore his ear off. You could wake him up with a kiss on the lips like Sleeping Beauty, which he was close to if he hadn't cut all his hair off.

You chose a much more exciting and devious option. 

You stand up from the padded office chair and walk across the room to Roger. You gently pick up his glasses from his lap before replacing them with yourself.

Roger jumps out of his skin. He jolts upwards, his big blue eyes shooting open. He prepares his fight or flight reaction before he sees your pleasing face. 

“Jesus, Y/N… scared the shit out of me,” he laughs breathily. “Sorry, sleepy-head,” his hands rest comfortably on your hips as if they were drawn there by magnetism. “Wasnt sleeping,” he claims, and you laugh. “Looked like you were,” you say.

An uncontrollable smile becomes plastered across his face. He tries to hide it, but the similar grin your mirrored back at him made it impossible to keep it concealed. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasnt,” he says.

“Schrödinger's cat,”

“I’m sorry?” he asks and you explain the theory to him.

Roger laughs at your little fact. “You always have the strangest things kept up in that pretty mind of yours,” he hums. “Stop hanging out with Brian, though. Don’t need no nerd stealing my girl,” he says. You feel the small hint of jealousy grow in his grip.

“It wasn’t Brian. I learned it myself. Its pretty interesting, actually,” you say. 

“Still, stay away from that poodle,” you burst out into laughter. “Roger, thats so mean!” you say and playfully hit his chest. “Funny, but mean,” you giggle. 

“Ah, get over here,” Roger hums as he pulls you down to his chest. You lay comfortably on top of him as one han rests on the small of your back, the other in your hair. You sit in silence for a moment, just listening to eachothers soft breathing. 

“What were you listening to?” you ask, gesturing to the walkman near his shoulder. 

“Beatles,” he says, showing you the empty The Beatles ‘White Album’ cassette case. 

“Which song?”

“Errr-” he skims through the list on the back then checks the track number on the walkman. “Bit funny. ‘I’m So Tired’, but I was not sleeping!”

You laugh out loud. “I was so right,” you grin. “No you werent,” you shot him a look, and he apeared almost frieghtend. “Okay, okay. You were right,” he chuckles. “Much better,” you hum and rest your face in the concave of his neck. 

You inhale his cologne. It was musky and sweet all at once. From his hard yet effortless drumming for the album, he had a dried layer of sweat on the back of his neck. Your breathing was almost as weak as a vacuum cleaner on its last suction breath.

Roger runs his nose through your hair. You felt so comfortable in his warm embrace. He never wanted to let go, but he knew he would have to. You weren't safe from judgement or harm in the comfort and solace of your own bed. You were sitting on an ugly couch in the recording studio, and the guys were about to come through that door with the coffee and force this simple yet beautiful moment to end.

“I'm exhausted, love..." Roger painstakingly whispers. "I know you are," you say. They had been working on this album nonstop. Roger would come home every day, uncomfortably hunched over himself as he crawled into bed. It was exhausting to hear constant bickering and arguments about whether it should be an A# or a B#. It was worse than going on a tour.

“We can go home soon, baby, I promise,” you tell him. “This isnt home.” he mutters. You were almost shocked by the sudden sterness in his voice. “I love Montreux, believe me, I do. But this isnt home. That house isnt home. I want to go back to london…” he sounds like a lost child, and it pained you to hear him so helpless. 

You sigh. You didnt have an explanation or solution for Rogers yearning for home. They had to work on the album. You had no control over that, Roger did, and if he didnt, then their manager did. 

“Our house here is better than nothing at all, right?” you try to lighten the mood. “Im grateful for everything, Y/N. all the success, I’m glad I have a roof over my head, and I’m over joyed that I get to live under the same roof with you every day. I just want our bed again,”

“I want that too, Rog…” you place a shaky kiss on his jaw. 

You exchange a quick 'I love you' before falling silent again. You knew you'd be in his embrace when you awoke. You didn't have to worry about losing him.

His chest drops rapidly as he exhales from the small sense of comfort. As you melt into his body and become one with his physical self and soul, you begin to fall asleep on his chest. Even though you knew you'd be woken up in a matter of minutes, you wanted to sleep. Even a few hours of sleep with Roger was bliss.

[recklessandyoung]

9 23 28 <33

23. Say three things about someone you hate: I wish I hadn’t known you, sometimes. I do. But it happened, and I’m still glad, in ways, that I got to know you for such a time. I hope you’ve found happiness now, I hope you treat yourself better, and get to see at least some of the beautiful things about life, because you deserve them, and I hope you know that now. (Maybe we’ll see eachother in life again, who can tell)

28. Do you collect anything? Well, I used to collect cassettes, although I haven’t as much since my cassette player’s broken, and I suppose you could say in a way I collect books? I’m just a bookworm idk… aand I do however, collect flowers to dry ::3

(Question nine’s down below the cut, it’s just a bit long lol)

9. Tell a story about your childhood: One time, I went down to my favourite place in the world, Wellington, when I was around the age of eight, and I remember so vividly the drive down, it’s always so… content for me whenever I go there, it’s like my home. When we went we got up around 4:00 in the morning because the drive always takes ages because it’s at the other end of this island of the country, and I was so sleepy but I was happy. We went through a tunnel at one point and I remember thinking I saw a demon but it was just the road being really dark because it was night and it was the red lights of the truck in front of us (I laugh about this so much now), uh, my Mum also ran over a possum on the way down when were driving through a stretch of countryside and it was still dark, which we always joke about now heheh ~ we stopped to have breakfast at a lake about a quarter of the way down, and the sun hadn’t risen yet but the sky was a faint blue, and god it was so cold, the table we were at was so wet we got towels out, I think. That was the first trip down when I made a pact to myself to always listen to only Fat Freddy’s Drop (a reggae band from Aoteroa, who I’ve grown up on) so I listened to them all the way down the next time we went cause I had headphones of my own. And I have since, without fail. It began to clear up, but it was raining as we drove through the countryside about an hour from the lake. When we got there, hours later, it was raining so much, which is pretty standard weather there, and I love it. So much. I felt so peaceful and quiet music was playing, and the beautiful thing is, as you’re driving into the city, you drive along the ocean on one side of you, with mountains on the other, which never fails to make me smile. We had lunch in the car, I think, it’s a bit hazy to remember that part but I remember my parents getting lunch out of the back of the ute. The feeling on the way back, though… I just felt like I never wanted to leave, and I remember thinking that so clearly, on the drive back through a stretch of road (it’s called Desert road, it’s owned my the New Zealand military, so you can’t go walking in it, but there’s a road through it). This might be dramatic, but skyfall by Adele was playing, and there was a board of games between me and my sibling in the car, and the heater was on and I had my blanket wrapped around my shoulders, and as I was watching the rain against the window and the fog outside and trying to get even a glimpse of grass on the side of the road, I remember thinking so clearly, I wish I could go back already. It’s always felt like a second home to me, no matter where I am in life. I could tell stories about my times there whenever anyone asks <3

[kitmon]

Hello! How did you imagine the first meeting between Eddie and the reader in the Let’s Dance universe? Did he crush start then or develop during the course of middle school? Also, I would be very excited if it became a multi-chapter fic! I absolutely love a good slow burn and your writing is wonderful :)

EEeeeeee! I love that you love the idea of a multi-chapter fic! I might start adding to it as soon as I'm through with finals! And it'll be perfect because it's winter time and it fits the vibes so well!

(Also, I am so sorry anon, I hope you see this even though it took me so long!)

The way I see it playing out is that they knew each other all throughout their baby years in the way that every kid in a small town knows each other. I don't think Eddie was always the reject and that may be controversial lol but I just don't think that kindergarten children are as cruel to each other in the way that older adolescents and adults are. They aren't really mean to each other for superficial stuff like what you wear or what you're interested in. I dunno that's just my perception of young kids; they're mean in like the way that they'll steal your crayons or something and when they do comment on your clothes or appearance, it's often because they don't understand and less because they're trying to make you feel bad.

All that to say, I think that Eddie and reader would have been the kind of childhood friends that weren't, like, attached at the hip but were most often, especially in Kindergarten, found together, playing house, coloring and sharing markers, all that cute kid stuff. They just got along very well and found comfort in each others' company. I imagine, during free time, they would cuddle up together on a bean bag, pop one of those cassette tape audio books into a cassette player and listen to A Wizard Of Earthsea. And as they listen, probably making a note on the story every once in a while, they doze off like sleepy puppies, stubby fingers grazing each others' as they huddle in close together. Literally so cute T-T.

But then, after a while, I figure they kind of disperse and find themselves different friend groups as their interests develop. I don't think it wasn't because either one disliked what the other did but just because they found others that better suited their personalities at the time. That eventually fell away from your memory.

Now, middle school is where things get juicy; Eddie's more alienated from the community for his interests and you're gaining popularity for your academic success and friendly demeanor. Often, Eddie was bullied or purposefully excluded from things but you never treated him like that, in fact, that's the reason he grew such a soft spot for you. It started out small like most crushes do, seeing you in the halls and thinking you were pretty, but he fell hard when you stood up for him when no one else would.

Tommy H. was always a bully, raised a bully, stayed a bully, and he loved tormenting Eddie, shoving him against lockers, beating him up behind the dumpster and ransacking his bag and pockets. A regular occurrence was Tommy smacking Eddie's textbooks and notes down onto the floor as he passed him in the halls and, as you saw him do it you shouted after him but he was already turning the corner and ignoring you entirely.

You scoffed and rushed towards Eddie, crouching down to help him gather his belongings, attempting to keep all of your fingers from being crushed under the negligent shoes of students who maneuvered around you and Eddie like fish in a stream, disregarding the both of you as they made their way to their next class.

"He's such an asshole" you mumble, swiping up the lined note sheets and sketchpad papers from the floor, trying to salvage the crumpled and stamped over documents by rubbing your thumb over the shoe marks which was ultimately useless.

That's when Eddie notices you so close, lifting his head to find you gathering his D&D notes and character sketches, flushing at the sight of you in your darling sundress and scraggly wool cardigan, he can hardly believe such a nasty word left such a beautiful creature. He freezes, eyes going wide as he watches you try to tap the papers into a neat stack before he blinks and remembers to respond.

"Yuh-yeah."

You stand and admire his drawings, smiling at a doodle of what appears to be an elf, decorated in ornate robes with luscious flowing hair, wielding a large sword. As Eddie stands too, you hand him over his papers and notebooks.

"Are you okay?" You ask as he takes the pile.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he nods, not ever fully making eye contact with you. "It's not a big deal."

"It's a huge deal!" You correct, voice raising a bit. "He shouldn't be messing with you like that!"

Eddie doesn't say anything, only stares at his feet and shuffles under your intense gaze. You sigh through your nose and place your fingers over his shoulder.

"You know, I don't think anyone would fault you for throwing a punch every once in a while," you suggest.

Eddie lifts his head and looks you in the eye, only for a brief second, nodding.

The late bell rings a shrill sound and it startles you away from Eddie and, as soon as it's gone, he misses the touch of your hand.

"Oh! Crap!" You barely notice that the halls are all but empty save for you and Eddie. "I've gotta go!"

You start to back away but press your fingers against his chest to remind him you hardly want to separate.

"But we should hang out!" You rush out, eyes wide. Eddie finds that he can say nothing, words lodged in his throat, and only chokes before nodding. You smile a wide, radiant smile before starting to jog down the hall, and as you've already turned the corner, you shout, "I like your hair!"

Eddie smiles and runs his palm over the sheared locks before turning and heading to his own class, a wild blush painting his pale cheeks.

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Alchemist Cookbook (2016)

You don’t need a big budget to make a good movie. Sometimes, having too much money can even be a hindrance. All you need are good performances and a compelling story. Sometimes, even just one of those is enough if you’ve got a novel idea. Unfortunately for The Alchemist Cookbook, all of its unconventional choices don't make up for how dreadfully boring it is.

Sean (Ty Hickson) lives in a cabin in the woods with his cat and spends his days trying to use an old alchemy book. After his medication runs out and his friend, Cortez (Amari Cheatom), refuses to make the three-hour trip required to bring them to him, Sean becomes increasingly deranged. Eventually, he sets out to summon a demon.

I wish I could find a philosopher’s stone and turn all of this movie’s boring to excitement. With only two people in the entire film and the plot being set either inside Sean’s cabin or in the wilderness immediately around it, the actors get plenty of time to shine and to the film’s credit, they’re up to the task. Some of the dialogue feels like it’s being improvised on the spot, with many four-letter words being added over and over to pad out the sentences but you believe Ty Hickson as someone who really needs his meds. Beyond this, there is little to praise in The Alchemist Cookbook.

The film lasts 82 minutes and it feels like forever. So much of the movie is spent watching Sean mucking about, drawing prisoner marks on the barks of a tree to count the days, listening to music on his cassette player, playing with Christmas lights or mixing colored liquids to no effect that you perk up the second his buddy shows up. “Finally! Something new!” When the two start arguing about how delicious the cat food Cortez has brought might be, your heart sinks. Yup. This is what the entire movie is going to be like. A whole lot of inane conversations and nothing else.

If at any point you're able to shake yourself out of the sleepy aura that radiates out of this story, you might find some of it unsettling or even a little scary. When Sean begins digging into the demonic stuff, we see so little of whatever creature it is that’s making those odd noises in the distance that your imagination fills in the gaps and makes it frightening. At least in theory. In actuality, by the time it happens, it’s so late in the game you’ve given up. You know this movie doesn’t have the budget to show us anything cool and it has no desire to either. It’s not even that the whole thing is shot in a “found footage” fashion that would make this choice legitimate; it’s just that while you can tell that writer/director Joel Potrykus has the skills needed to make a good movie, he didn’t this time.

I try not to look at other people’s reviews when I write my own. All I know is that once in a while, RottenTomatoes publishes articles about how “Rotten Tomatoes was Wrong” about a movie. The Alchemist Cookbook is far too small to ever be featured but I wish it would be. Only someone who has seen so many movies that they’re desperate for something different - doesn’t matter if it’s good or interesting, as long as it’s different - could recommend The Alchemist Cookbook. I say there can’t be many horror movies about summoning demons that feature an all-black cast and no female actors whatsoever but there’s got to be one you’ll find more interesting than this one. (November 13, 2022)

[bewitchingbaker]

⌛

Bravery

Camillio, Alice, and Angela Luna all nervously listened against the office door.

'...I hope she's not gonna be too hard on him..' Angela whispered, earning a shush from her older sister.

Behind the bakery's office door was a 12-year-old Chris in the world's longest staring contest with the Luna family matriarch, Julia Luna. She stared daggers at the youngest Luna who didn't show any signs of faltering. Quiet, timid, and panic attack prone Chris had no plan on faltering.

"Christopher Noe Luna," she growled, enunciating every syllable, "Where. Is. Jessica?"

A moment passed. Her eyes followed as he finally opened his mouth.

"I don't know," Chris answered matter of factly

If she wasn't so upset with her darling grandson, she'd tell him how much respect she had. Threats of a spanking, extra long shifts at the register and even taking away his cassette player didn't shake him. The very fact he was staring back with no hint of fear was something to behold. Not even the older Lunas could say they've done that.

But when it came to his sister, Chris would never talk. Chris knew where Jessica was. The local skate shop up the street or the old park on Surprise Ave. But he wasn't going to tell them that. Even if he had to work the whole week with no break.

Jessica Luna would do the same for him after all.

With a pinch of the bridge of her nose, she tapped her pen against the desk. Guess, it was time for the big guns. Unknown to Chris he came from a family much like the fantasy novels he loved so much.

The Lunas were a family of witches, each with their own specialty. Julia's level of expertise? Persuasion. A mere suggestion combined with a dash of magic could get the truth out of him.

"Now Chris, doesn't it bother you that you're doing more than your sister? Doesn't that make you want her to do her share...?" Julia asked, head resting on her cupped palms.

For a moment, Chris could swear he see his Abuela's eyes flash azure. Just for a moment. Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to register it since his head began to feel hazy...like something was making him sleepy.

'Maybe...I should tell her...it's only right...'

But unknown to not only the Luna's and even Chris himself, he had a defense against this. A much darker aura filled his eyes, turning those once brown hues into a deep violet matching his Abuela's. Just like that...the feeling was gone.

"I don't know, lo siento," Chris finally answered, much to the shock of his Abuela.

"Hmm," she mused with a hand on her chin, "I...guess you don't know. But you're not leaving here without something. You have to wash all the dishes at closing and no tv for a week."

A nod and a hop out of his seat.

The other Luna's jumped once he opened the door, dutifully making his way to the sink to begin his punishment. Julia Luna motioned for the other Lunas to come in.

"Shut the door," she told them with a scowl, "There's something within Chris...he broke my persuasion on him. If it's what I think it is, I'd suggest we make sure he doesn't get a hold of it. With that much power, we could be getting some unwanted guests...:

[jacepi-time]

LAST SONG - Enemies - Imagine Dragons FAVORITE COLOR - 1. All colors are special in their own way 2. Purple LAST MOVIE - live action: Taming of the Shrew 1967 / animation: An American Tail (or was it Strange Magic, around the same time so probably friend movie night!) SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY - all r good, Spicy if i have to choose ARE YOU SLEEPY? - YES, yes i am so sleepy CURRENT OBSESSION - Milk Pop, milk and carbonated flavored water together everyone hates it when i drink it but theyre wrong i grow more powerful by the day Also this musician whos really good does porter robinson instrumental covers and i am going INSANE over the music LAST THING YOU GOOGLED - cassette tape player

NINE PEOPLE I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

OMG TYSM FOR TAGGING ME @liass-21 !!!!! i am so sorry i drafted this tag and i thought i queue'd it and i didnt so 😭😭😭 its only like a month late. its fine everythings fine. aaaaaa 😭

LAST SONG? - "photograph" by the midnight! it is on my writing-for-top-gun playlist bc it has huge maverick vibes lol.

FAVORITE COLOR? - pink!!!! also lighter purples and blues and most pastel shades <3 and black

CURRENTLY WATCHING? - a streamer i have never watched before playing the remaster of of tomb raider i-iii bc i am excited about the remaster!! and those games are my childhood <3 not to be a million years old or anything sakfhfjfhg

LAST MOVIE? - unfortunately it was 'oz the great and powerful' 😭 if any of y'all enjoyed that movie i respect it, but i had to see it on tv at a friend's house and we were having a great time laughing at the very unexpected writing and acting choices being made lol

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? - aaaaaaaa i guess savory ?????? but sweet has a special place in my heart ajdhfjfhfjg

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? - committed long term relationship to ~my person~ <3<3

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? - well this is gonna be obvious but top gun primarily !!!! additionally, dan and phil !! mission impossible !!! fall out boy!! and even if the current obsession level is not as high as other things, i am always at least partially obsessed with a hundred other things and people that i am probably posting about at the same time lol

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? - “oz the great and powerful reviews” bc i wanted to make sure that im not crazy and that other ppl also felt that movie was an insane fever dream (apparently due to the 44% on metacritic i guess they did lol)😭

tagging: aaaaaa @brambleberrycottage @daffodilstark @tellhound @torchflies @melancholydandelion @goosefilms @driftershunt @downthegenderriver @callsignstingray