#sour lemon strikes again

[lynxgriffin]

I just reread paper trail within a day, been awhile since i read it last lol. A bit obsessed with deltarune again

Can you draw lemon ralsei with a gun-

Who gave him that????!

Also dang, that's a fast reread! Thanks so much for the read, though, and yessss more of the DR obsession!

[taiyaakii]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Lemon boy ! . . . ( 西村力 )

— pairing: 西村力 x reader — contains: slight angst, fluff — now playing: 一子青葉

Lemon boy - Cavetown . Part 2

"There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy. He was growing in my garden, and I pulled him out by his hair like a weed"

Riki Nishimura.

You were new to school and he was appointed as your guide. You tried to make friends with him but he wasn't very talkative.

Despite that, you were still nice.

You'd see him in class, which was all of them as you guys shared the same itinerary. Every time you spotted his eyes you'd walk over and smile, trying to strike up a conversation, he never had it.

He'd stare at you blankly, and walk away quickly. Not wasting any time to say goodbye.

You thought you got close when he finally replied to your nuance but he only let out a short "Okay" and walked away for what felt like the billionth time

"And like weeds do, he only came and grew back again, so I figured this time, I might as well let him be"

You were curious as to why he was so blank all the time so you followed him through his day. Not in a creepy way, he knew you were there, but he didn't tell you to leave so you continued.

The whole day he didn't speak to anyone.

He ate alone, walked to class alone, and studied in the library alone. Never once did you see him talk to a friend.

-

The next day you asked around.

"He doesn't have any friends."

"He's weird..."

"He never talks, it freaks me out"

"All I know is he's an asshole"

Mixed with

"Leave him alone, it's a waste of time trying to be friends with him."

"Why are you talking to him anyway?"

The weirdest was when a girl said "Don't talk to him...You'll be cursed for eternity." and walked away laughing.

Intrigued you followed him again the next day.

Not once did he bully anyone like everyone made you think. He didn't even look up from the ground most of the time.

You got tired of all the same replies people were giving you, not even actual intel on him, just insults and bad-mouthing. Until one girl told you to ask an old friend of his, Jake Sim.

You met him in his algebra class, which you conveniently shared with him. "Jake!" He looked at you with surprise, probably because a stranger knew his name, but you didn't let him ask questions before you started interrogating him.

The questions went on for about a minute before he got a chance to answer, but luckily he answered them without questioning why you wanted to know. Because that would've been another long minute.

"Uhhhhhh, it's confusing. He was being bullied for a while" He paused "Not like serious bullying but they told him he was annoying, talked too much, etcetera. You get the drill"

You frowned at him

"Well, why aren't you guys friends anymore?"

He sighed and looked away kinda guilty-like "He turned like... bitter. You know? I know it's not his fault but it got hard to be around him. Almost sour like a lemon" Jake mumbled the last part and looked down at his paper, only to look back up at you and see a scowl on your face, "like a lemon?"

"yeah, lemon boy. That's what everyone calls him"

You were thankful for the info but annoyed so you left without saying bye, grimacing at him on your way out

"Weird..." Jake thought

"Lemon Boy and me started to get along together"

You weren't going to let the mean things people said, or the warnings they advised, stop you from trying to be his friend.

He wasn't mean to you, if he was that would be a different story, but he's not. So you persevered

You continued to talk to him in every class, his chair being right behind yours made it easy. You'd talk his ear off during break and even started sitting at lunch with him.

The first day you did, you had seen him sitting alone at a table in the far back, right by the doors. You had sat in front of him, he looked up at you as you started talking.

This time he didn't get up and walk away (Though you wondered if it was just cause he was too hungry to walk away from his food), but rather he just sat there. He wasn't necessarily acknowledging you but he wasn't ignoring you either. He'd occasionally look up at you then go back to eating his food which was good enough for you.

"I helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather"

At the end of the day, walking in the halls, you overheard the English teacher lecturing Riki about his dropping grade.

Telling him to either work harder or get a tutor. Even the teachers were mean to him.

It wasn't that Riki wasn't trying, nor was he dumb. Literature just wasn't his strong suit, and that's where you came in.

You barged into the room, happy and energetic as always.

The teacher pointed to you "Ah, here. She's doing wonderfully, why don't you have her tutor you?" You looked at Riki and smiled. The plan is going perfectly.

Riki on the other hand looked at you, then the teacher, then the ground, and walked out past you. The teacher glared at him and shook her head, looking back at her paper.

You simply just shut the door and followed Riki, like you had been for the past 2 weeks now. "I really don't mind tutoring you by the way! I love English" You ended it with a sweet chuckle

Riki just looked at you, took a deep breath in, and nodded.

He continued walking and you continued following him, assuming you were going to the library to study.

You were right, and when you got there Riki took a chair in the far back of the library, not without a few stares as he walked through.

Sitting down with him you didn't want to waste time.

You pulled your books out and started. English was your favorite subject so you were very excited which made you talk even faster then usual.

Riki's mouth slightly agape he muttered quietly, "Slow down please.." He looked up at you, "Just a little" he said even more muttered than the first sentence.

You, shocked at hearing his voice for the first time, sat there with your mouth open. It made him nervous so he looked down at his book and started flipping to the page you were on.

He let out a little "sorry." which you quickly said was okay, and told him not to apologize to which he nodded.

It was nice hearing his voice, kind of deep, and super quiet. It was clear he was shy cause it was a little shaky but you thought his voice was cute so you took what you could get.

He didn't say anything for the rest of the session, simply just nodding and letting out a small "Oh" here and there.

7pm, when you guys were finally done, you asked "Next week after school?" as you grabbed your bag and gave him a smile.

"mm," he replied, nodding.

You gave him one last smile and wished him goodnight.

"Goodnight Riki"

If only you had stayed for a moment longer, you would've seen the slight smile that made its way to Riki's face.

"It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him"

The weekly tutoring sessions continued, and so did talking to him in class all day, so did sitting with him at lunch, and so did following him around school.

You even started sitting right next to him at lunch, rather then sitting across from him.

It made him nervous at first but eventually, he started scooting closer to you.

Rather than just looking back between you and his food, he started reacting

"But it was so annoying cause he was like "It's my house if I want to eat the ice cream, then I can eat the ice cream" but man I bought it" You complained before stuffing a spoonful of rice in your mouth, not expecting Riki to reply at all but he let out a small laugh

It was the cutest thing you ever heard.

It was soft but real. Not some fake laugh, he seemed genuinely kind of happy.

You smiled at him but looked away when he looked back at you and finished your story.

Riki started replying to all the little stories you told him.

Whether it was his adorable little laughs or small "yeah?"'s, he was warming up.

"So I got myself a citrus friend"

Riki started talking first.

Poking your back in class to tell you a dumb joke, giving you little notes, telling his own little stories, ranting about his weekend.

At one point he even asked if you wanted to walk home with him.

You smiled big and loudly said yes, to which he replied with a laugh and said okay.

From that point on you guys started walking to and from school together every day, you spent all day at school together and you even started hanging out after school. You were completely inseparable at this point.

He was the sweetest person ever, he was kind, caring, gentle, and he had the cutest smile ever.

You didn't understand how people could hate such a sweet boy, but you were glad this lemon boy was your friend.

@ featki

[catchingdaydreams]

Mirthrun x gardener reader

(if people like this I'll create a small fic)

Part 2 (Beach Day)

Yeah here me out. This is after the events of the Manga where Laios becomes king. Mirthrun and the Canaries stay on the island to avoid the law and all that...

Mirthrun gets lost, like a lot. No matter how many Canaries are supervising him he manages to allude them. His teleporting doesn't help either. It's not like he wants to be alone. He just gets caught up in the little finds, like a bug or some rabbit moving by and follows after them. See he's being trying/ training himself to reclaim his desires/wants back and Kabru mentioned to try to focus on a specific things to get a better understanding of his emotions onto it.

Anyway, one day he stumbles on a green house and sees a tall man there. Your minding your own business, picking the herbs from your garden, utterly unaware of the elf who just transported behind you. The first encounter was .... unpleasant. With a fright, you slapped Mithrun and cussed him out of your green house. He just trots along. You were confused at the whole ordeal, especially how the man didn't really react to you at all.

He shows up again, a couple of days later. And again you kick him out. Its almost became comedic.

He keeps on showing up to the point you don't care anymore. He doesn't do anything but bask in the green house sun, utterly in his own world, speaking no words to you.

You do ask why he shows up. His only response was a lifeless stare in deep pool his single eye casts, followed by a shrug. Not the response you want but nevertheless you keep allowing him to stay.

You notice that after a while he watches you tender the plants. You mostly strike a one-way conversation about your passion with your medical herbs but at times he does ask questions.

The first time you heard his voice you had to double take. You thought he was mute. He just cocks his head to the side , confused at you surprised acts.

Some time later you become more accustomed to his blandness and directness, able to read his emotions with subtle things like the flicker of his cut ears to the twingers of his eye. This though came with time and after finding out that he doesn't really take care of himself.

That one time you saw him passed out from dehydration wasn't a fun memory. And not wanting to relive it, you offer him tea and sweet pastries when he arrives. You found he particularly likes sour things, so lemon tarts are frequently on the menu.

He does help out with tending to your plots, though he isn't much of a green thumb, picking the ripe fruits off your small orchid helped you tones. You even gave him a basket of lemons to take home one time. It was a sight to see when he smiled at it, even though it turned quickly back to his emotionless form.

The Canaries still didn't know where he was going most of the day until he arrived back with that basket of lemons. Fleki ask where he got them from but Mithrun refuses to answer. They reach for one, but Mithrun grabbed their hand tightly. Anger distorts his face making the other Canaries surprised by his quick change in demeanor.

"Their mine", was all Mithrun said before he stormed into his room.

Eventually they were able to make out where he was heading all the time , though there was some misunderstanding. See they thought you were using him as free labor and quite abruptly came to you about the situation. Drama pursues, Mithrun gets upsets and snaps at his companions.

It just turns out the reason why he never told them where he was, was that he wanted you all to himself. He didn't want to share you with anybody.

Ah and that's it

[ishouldgetatumbler]

<< < ao3 > >>

Artemis sat on the wooden desk the boys shared, broken communicator strewn across the table. He took it apart to figure out how it works, and only then did he understand how broken it was. He looked at his watch, making sure he hadn't lost track of time. He blinked, trying to clear the blur from his cyclopean vision. 7:55. He watched the boys and thought.

He was reaching an important age, or so Butler had told him. An age where it was important for him to begin engaging with his peers, the girls and perhaps boys of his classes.

Butler was absolutely correct.

Children were like embryos, constantly shifting, gaining depth and complexity.

Not him of course, his mind had been a infinite crystal of cool calculation since he could remember.He has learned things of course, but his mind had stayed the same, a sharp and efficient machine of function and cold calculation expanding to contain the new information, but not changing.

His peer's minds would never be what his was, but they had become people at least. They had their own desires, their own drives and ambition. His peers were now smart enough to be manipulated.

Of course it was easy to trick a six year old, he'd spent a lot of time doing it, but the fruits of his labor were essentially nil. Children knew nothing he didn't, and could acquire nothing he couldn't acquire easily.

The people around him are tools and, for once, they were useful tools. Sturdy enough to survive, smart enough to solve simple problems on their own. Finally the most plentiful resourse was actually something he could exploit.

Damian seemed like a simpleton trapped in genius's mind. Sharp witted, capable in combat and insatiable desire to punch his problems in the face repeatedly. He was, for Artemis' guess, furious beyond reason that he couldn't couldn't solve Artemis by punching him in the face. There were truly few problems that couldn't be solved with extreme violence, and Artemis was proud to one of them.

Danny seemed like he was hiding something, but his secret would offer little to Artemis until he could unveil it. Asking directly would only tip his attention that Artemis wished to know.

"Did your father or mother make the device?" Artemis asked Danny, watching Damian.

The boy's face soured like he sucked a lemon, his every feature screaming 'I thought you said he was no one' in a frustrated growl.

Artemis grinned a slimy little smile.

"Kind of a joint process." Danny said airily, "do you know them?"

"They're famous in certain circles. Infamous in many others." Artemis answered vaguely.

Danny nodded, his parent's polarizing impact known best to him.

Artemis has learned of them through his work in 'esoteric' sciences as he prefered to call them, they were geniuses with ectoplasm and often measurable on gieger counter at some distance.

"If you want to repair it, we'll need to steal some things." Artemis said, looking over the device.

Damian made a face.

"Borrow without permission or intent to return," Artemis said after a moment, "better?"

"Why are you antagonizing me?"

"not sure. why are you so easy to antagonize?"

Damian marched to Artemis, raising his fist like a gavel to strike down solemn judgement. Artemis looked up from his tinkering, glancing to Damian's threatening scowl, then back down to his watch. 7:57 Damian scoffed and turned away.

"I'll let you know when we find something I need," Artemis said, looking after Damian as he left "I'll do this." He made a quick gesture with one hand.

Damian immidiately mimmicked him, his hands forming the same odd rounded shape.

"Stealing from these guys?" Danny groaned.

"Listen," Artmeis inerjected.

"How? They have cameras everwhere!" One of boys said, Artemis did not care which.

"LISTEN!," Artemis said again, raising his wristwatch, "the mics will get hot in here at lights out at 8, it's currently-"

"What?" Damian barked, "how much do you know, what are you-"

"It's currently 7:59, I need you too-"

"Why did you wait until now you-"

The lights dropped.

In darkness, someone roared and a fist collided with Artemis's one good eye.

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

Why so Many F*cking Lemons??

National Treasure is the kind of film that presents many mysteries and asks its viewers the hard questions. Questions like:

What if there was a treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence?

What if American history was a cool connected puzzle?

What there was a big ol' treasure?

But most importantly it asks us to consider:

4. Why does Patrick Gates have a whole fridge full of lemons???

Now the most obvious answer here is because the plot demands it. Ben and co need to cover the whole back of the Declaration in lemon juice, (although do they?) so they have to have enough lemons on hand.

The second most obvious reason is because the cinematography demands it. I mean this shot looks a lot better than, like, a single lemon. (Probably the same reason for Dakota Johnson's bowl of limes. It looks better.)

But neither of those answers are very fun, so let's dig deeper.

What is the plausible, in-story reason why Patrick Gates has a bowl of lemons?

Theory 1: Patrick Gates is a connoisseur of homemade lemonade

According to this hypothesis, Patrick loves homemade lemonade so much that he makes it for himself on the semi-regular. Yes, it's like October, but why should that stop him.

Does this check out?

When we meet him, Patrick is hanging out alone in his bathrobe late on a Friday night, having had pizza for dinner and something from a soda fountain to drink. That doesn't strike me as a foodie who wouldn't just buy lemonade if he wanted some.

Theory 2: Lemon Fish

In this version, Patrick is about to grill some fish. There's a way to do it (which is really tasty, and doesn't require a grill pan or rack) where you place bunch of slices of lemon directly on the grill grates and grill the fish on top of them. The fish doesn't stick and it imparts a delicious citrus flavor.

But again, we run into the same plausibility issues:

it's autumn

the Patrick Gates we meet here doesn't seem dedicated enough to the food he eats to do through the somewhat tedious process of grilling fish, especially not in not-summer

Theory 3: Cards with the Boys

What if Patrick is part of a weekly rotating card game? It's maybe a few masons he knows from his treasure hunting days and some of the guys from the insurance company (I don't know what I think that Patrick sells insurance, but I guess that's the most 'square' job I could come up with).

They rotate houses every week or month, and it's soon to be Patrick's turn to host. The drink of choice amongst the group is whisky sours, tom collins's or another straightforward drink that requires lemon juice.

This at least I think is more plausible with what we see of Patrick's lifestyle than an explanation with a more foodie-type bent. With Ben and his ex-wife both out of his life, Patrick must be a pretty lonely guy. I like the idea of him having a circle of friends.

Theory 4: Health Benefits

And here I think we have the most plausible answer: that Patrick might be interested in the health benefits associated with lemons and drinking lemon water.

Different compounds in lemons can have benefits regarding

lowering cholesterol

managing blood sugar

kidney health

and more, but those are the ones I suspect Patrick might be interested in. He's of a certain age, lives alone, and (unless we caught him on an off night) might not take the best care of himself as far as his diet. Perhaps he's been found to have high cholesterol, is pre-diabetic or has other blood sugar concerns, or has the decreased kidney function that can be associated with aging.

Perhaps he's had kidney stones or another health issue or scare in recent years and is attempting to take better care of himself.

Maybe that soda fountain cup is full of lemon water.

Conclusion

While all of these are plausible to various degrees, I find myself more interested in the last two. Patrick as an aging man without any family (or at least not any family who still speaks to him), living alone and becoming concerned with his health is heartbreaking, but I think adds a certain softness to the character, and extra layer to him and to his reconciliation with Ben.

And in any case, I also like the idea that he hasn't been completely alone since his falling out with Ben. While Patrick does behave in a way that suggests a fairly traditional 'breadwinner,' family man masculinity, we at the National Treasure Gazette will always stan platonic relationships and social supports. I'd like to believe that Patrick has his own squad of friends he can rely on.

I don't think I've ever thought about Patrick Gates this much, but now that I have, I find myself kind of wanting to give him a hug? He may not be the easiest character to love, but he has his own struggles.

What about you?

What are your theories regarding the lemon bowl?

I'd love to hear in a reblog, reply, tag, etc!

[wonijinjin]

seventeen members as still scenes

author’s note: i always think of a specific type of weather and time of the day when thinking about people, so here is a svt version of these still scenes^^

word count: 0.8k | genre: fluff | warnings: none

cheol is like that warm midnight in summer when you can feel the heat left from daytime but it isn’t suffocating, rather it is the comfort of that warmth in the night which makes it perfect, the midnight sky being decorated with a few stars here and there, little sparks of hope, the streetlights leading the way to a place called home.

hannie is like a winter morning when the previous night’s snow is so pure, still untouched even though the weather is quite warm despite it being a morning, everything is quiet and glowing in white, the little flowers that survived the cold along the streets slowly appearing after the snow on them starts to melt away with the sun waking from its slumber.

shua is like a spring morning after a whole night of constant raining from angry dark clouds, the sun appearing from its hiding spot behind them, bringing a faint rainbow to the sky as the last drops of water are being dried off, as if they were tears masked behind the night, bringing a new warm beginning to another day.

jun is like the blue hour after the sunset in winter, all the stars and the bright moon already on the sky, lovers standing in each other’s arms, above them a magical scene of constellations just like how it was told in fairytales, millions of hopeful wishes being made under the moon’s friendly hue, healing the broken hearts.

hoshi is like the late night in autumn when a big thunderstorm is the main event, lighting striking the almost black sky every minute, making it constantly bright even though it is way past sunset, instead of scaring people making them focused on nothing else but the flashing lights, as if the sky was the empty canvas to paint something memorable and beautiful on.

wonwoo is like the late afternoon in autumn when it is raining heavily without a thunderstorm, sky full of grey clouds, it can be heard from outside, being inside with your loved ones, a comfortable silence surrounding the place as everyone does their own thing quietly, the raindrops’ sound giving comfort and peace to the always racing mind.

woozi is like a chilly and early spring morning at sunrise when most people are still asleep, the sun only just rising above the horizon as the light shines through the leaves of trees and windows of houses, brightness everywhere, like new life was created yet again, everything slowly rising from slumber.

hao is like an autumn afternoon when the aftermath of the rain in the morning is still visible, puddles all over the ground, but the sky is sunny, the clouds having a bright shade, the nature absorbing the water, the humidity still evident in the air, making it heavy and full, like a mix of unspoken and mysterious or almost mischievous words are hiding in the air.

mingyu is like the summer night sunset, most of the colors of the rainbow all being present at once somehow, the feeling of a hug from the last rays of sunshine, warm breeze stroking the cheek of friends, losing track of time while immersing in the sun’s golden hour glow, feeling pure joy and gratitude, stopping for a minute to appreciate life itself.

dk is like the middle of a summer day when the sun is at its highest, the daytime being very long, a few trees providing shadow to escape the brigthness and the heat which is only bearable in water, the pools being warmed up by the sunshine, laughter filling the hot air, joy filling people’s hearts.

seungkwan is like the afternoon of a summer day, but it is windy outside like it is almost more of a spring weather, the breeze filling the atmosphere, letting it cool down despite the sun shining, no clouds disturbing the perfect blue sky, drinking a fresh lemonade with the perfect amount of sourness from the lemon, and that little extra sweetness of the sugar.

vernon is like the sunset at the end of winter, chill and peaceful, sun setting later and later, darkness slowly taking over the crispy cool sunshine, the light and warmth never disappearing from sight, instead seeping its way deeper inside in the form of freshly lit vanilla candles and cozy blankets, people resting after adventures and work, admiring the winter wonderland.

dino is like the daytime in spring, wind’s breeze and just the right amount of sunshine to have the perfect temperature, the flowers blooming in colorful patches under the sky, very cautiously balanced time, warm and cool in perfect harmony, fragile like emotions, yet so strong and inspiring, fresh like youth.

[antiquepearlss]

im going to harrass you with my tts halloween related questions until its tysmgiving and then i bombard you with tjose and yhen crisis, and well u get it idk

i love ur hcs i find them interesting

OKAY ANYWAYS, what dya think the tts characters favorite halloween candy is(or like what they enjoy bcuz thats what this ask ended up as)...

rapunzel likes all candy, she will eat anything and everything, but she secretly likes the fruity candies more than like chocolate ans what not, but shhhh everything is still apatizeing to her(except lemon stuff, like dont give her a lemon head man). eugene likes chocolate and so does cass, i think ever since i got introduced to cass i js thought she liked chocolate, specifically dark chocolate js bcus shes not much of a sweets person yk?(she usually takes the dark chocolate hersheys & dark chocolate milkyways if no one wants them) but eugene likes all chocolates, milky ways? yes. snickers? yes. heck even an almond joy he'll eat.

lance is like raps, he'll eat whatever(usually he just eats what the girls dont want LMAO) but smth about me makes me think his fav is jelly beans... angry and catalina are both similar, but i think catalina doesnt like nuts in her candy(i dont either, i know im insane u can hate me already), but kiera probably likes snickers, though i think she likes baby ruths more. catalina is a big fan of reeses tho, like yes peanut butter & chocolate yum yum yum.

varian likes the fruity candy cuz he is one /JOKE

but fr varian is one of those people who gets a whole carrot or smth and is like "omg thank you!!" and eats it like a chocolate bar, i do too so its okay. but his fav candy is skittles, like actually he will gobble down a whole bag like no ones business(he also likes gummies, of any sort really, oh and jolly ranchers)

and hugo doesnt get candy he gets mf rocks like charlie brown(respectfully, hugo probably likes kitkats and sweetarts)

this is so much IM SO SORRY HELP, my fav halloween candy is crunch bars & milky ways, but honestly all candy is so good lol

I’m so down, spam my inbox if you want. (I’m so hyped for Christmas Tangled Posting. Rapunzel loves Muppet Christmas Carol.) Also thank you very much.

So I’m definitely the wrong person to ask this actually. I’m not really a big fan of candy tbh. I like it sometimes, but I usually prefer savory snacks. Honestly what you said is pretty much canon to me. I love these.

But I’ll try my best.

Punzie Wunzie- Like you said, prefers fruity candies to chocolate. Probably likes skittles and Starbursts, stuff like that. I feel like she’d like gummies. Esp the orange ones with sugar on them.

Gene- Chocolate all the way. And not the cheap crap, the really fancy stuff, like truffles.

Lance- Same as Eugene but I think he likes Hershey chocolate and generally just candy bars. Probably likes sour and spicy candies as well. And yes absolutely he loves jelly beans. Same with Cat and Varian.

Var Bear- I think he’ll eat anything tbh but he canonically likes chocolate, so he steals Eugene’s truffles and Lance’s candy bars. And I can see him liking hard candies and suckers, because you can eat them while working.

Cassie Wassie- Again like you said, dark chocolate. She doesn’t strike me as much of a candy person. I can see her liking candy with nuts (despite being a lesbian)

Thing 1 & The Other 1- I feel like Cat prefers savory foods because wolf hehe. So yes peanut butter candies all the way. Same with Kiera, idk she just doesn’t strike me as that much of a candy person either so I think she’d eat ab anything as well. Like they like candy well enough they just don’t really have favorites. Maybe they both like sour/spicy candy.

everyone else- Quirin and Arianna like those old person candies that just materialize in your house when you turn 60. Adira also prefers fancy chocolates. Frederic, I don’t know let’s say circus peanuts. Hector doesn’t care why are you asking him this. Edmund hasn’t had candy in years, honestly he’d be happy just eating a bag of straight sugar.

My favorite is probably milky ways. Because they’re good and I gotta stick with my astronomy aesthetic I’ve got going on. Also Skittles slap.

[emmetofthestars]

Yes please!! A summary would be greatly appreciated!! An thanku for the helpful tag,, will be looking forward to a tag for yer blu team if you make one!

ive gone ahead and tagged (most) of my blu art under #emmetsis blu!

i also totally forgot that i have a carrd for my blu team and for two extra ocs... but because its rather empty it makes more sense i write something new. the carrd does have pronouns though.

to be more general first, blu team are my blu merc ocs and they are all clones of red team. along the way of cloning and growing they gained their unique personalities. so while they are clones, they are by now completely different people. as a result of respawn machines being a thing in my story, they all generally do not take death seriously as there are no real consequences to it, aswell as the existance of their medic. i think this is a bit of an important thing to add.

jay is the teams scout. not loud and brash at all, unlike red scout. shes not very enthusiastic about the war and she sees no use in it all. shes a close friend with crawford, and they both hang out and skip out on work. the two of them rarely go places without eachother. she likes lemon soda and sour tastes in general :3

carl is the soldier. unlike his red counterpart he is not confident or headstrong. he fears alot of things from small animals to the outside, aswell as people. he keeps his helmet on desperately as light hurts his eyes to the point of headaches. he always gets alot of scrutiny from charon. while there are sufficient bedrooms at blu base, he instead lives in a windowless storage room, in a sort of pillow-blanket fort.

gary is the pyro. bearing no lick of red pyros bloodlust and arsonist nature, gary does not fight. though they know how to fight back, they do not like seeing people in pain and will never attack first. while they arent an arsonist, they love water to almost a similar destructive degree. they would flood their bedroom to the brim with water, if they could. they like to sit at the bottom of lakes.

achilles is the demo. she does not dabble in explosives, but rather swords. he has a fascination with books in general and books about mythology of all sorts, peculiarly achilles of greek mythology, which they named themselves after. also has a particular fascination with cutting peoples heads off, but not out of malice, just out of pure love to his sword and shield, his half-zatoichi and splendid screen. she thinks shes pretty awesome.

daisy is the heavy. he has the same protective nature over people, and though he looks like a big softie he will not hesitate to strike if he recognizes a threat. but when somebody he trusts hurts him, its hard for him to let go. tries to learn how to knit and anything adjacent. when not, just likes to talk to people or take walks. he does not carry a minigun, he sticks to his shotgun and melee.

minnie is the engie. minnie is minnie. minnie builds mini sentries. sometimes teleporters. rarely dispensers. but mostly mini sentries. minnie can say four words: mini, sentry, teleporter, and dispenser. anything else? tough luck. even then, minnie does not speak enough times for anyone to remember what it sounds like.

charon is the medic. whatever inner issues red medic had manifest strangely in charon. not a very good medic- they dont respond to their teammates cries, charging into battle on their own with secondary and melee. they are extremely (hypo)critical and aggressive, and they get physical fast. however, when they are done screaming about whatever it is that their team has done wrong THIS time, they regret what they did, silently berating themselves. and the very next day, they would scream again, and regret it again. the day after that, and after that. they dont talk to anyone at length, not even achilles. they dont apologize, as they have no faith left in themself.

crawford is the sniper. (ill most often refer to him as crow.) unknowingly a drunkard- she doesnt actually know what alcohol is, just finds it tasty. he is as loving of the outdoors as his red counterpart, particularly of heights. she will climb any high building or abandoned pylon, with no regard to safety or her own life, just to feel the wind in her face. would also eat most foods if hes curious, even something such as pure raw meat- he is not aware that meat needs to be cooked. also a literal night owl. she sleeps at day and is wide awake at night.

iris is the spy. though she does her job as best she can, he is in no way as tenacious as red spy. he rarely disguises, and resorts instead to cloaking with the cloak & dagger. the pressure of their job gets to them, they are hardly energetic and often cant even find the energy to hold long conversations with people, or even say anything - the most she will do is approach people to ask them a technical question, then leave. and as a result of an "incident" with the red medic... its only worsened since then.

wow this was a long one..... i love infodumping.... :) some of this is POSSIBLY bound to change but in general their roles are pretty set in stone. i am still actively writing them though.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Lovely M! Your requests are open! So I was wondering if you would mind writing a lil something for my favourite wolf boi (or Celegorm!) With the prompt "jousting"

I'm feeling something comedic, but I'm ultimately leaving the vibe up to you

As always, you're welcome to make it lemon-y sour if you would like, preferably fem!reader, and maybe set in the normal time frame or thereabouts

Thanks in advance if you decide to write this! <3

Right. Since you prefer the normal time frame, how about Celegorm learning to joust somewhere in Middle-Earth?

This won’t be smut, but I’ve added some NSFW elements all the same.

“Little game”

Pairing: Celegorm x Fem. Reader (Mortal | second person POV) | Location: Middle-Earth / Himlad | Prompt: Joust

Themes : Soft | NSFW

Warnings : Kissing | Teasing | Innuendo | Use of a weapon (Lance)

Word count: 1.2k words

Summary: Celegorm is frustrated after not having mastered the lance quickly enough.  

Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

"My lord! That is not how you couch a lance!"

Celegorm closed his eyes and groaned in frustration. Here he was, a son of Fëanor, a student of none other than the great hunter Oromë himself, failing to wield what was, to all intents and purposes, a heavy stick with a blunted end.

"This is cumbersome!" He complained, "and wholly unsuitable! I insist you hand me my sword immediately!"

"No." You took your time walking to the end of the sparring field, where a straw target was already mounted onto a pivot. "You wanted to learn, my lord. Now learn. Come now," you said, tugging at the straps, the shield, and the leather war-hammer stuffed with tufts of wool. "Surely you, a son of Fëanor, are not admitting defeat."

Celegorm narrowed his eyes, the tips of his ears flushing red and twitching in anger. "Hold your tongue, woman."

"Hold it?" Wicked humor fills your eyes. "What a shame, for I thought you dearly loved it when I swirled my tongue around the tip of yo…"

"Enough!" Red-cheeked, embarrassed, and more than a little inflamed, Celegorm gave you a cheeky grin. "Enough. Very well. Teach me how to couch this wretched thing." 

You helped him with his grip and the angle of his aim. "Lean forward in your saddle," you counseled. "It will help with your balance. Keep your eye on the target. Extend your arm fully just before striking. The speed of your horse will do the rest."

Celegorm listened and took your advice to heart. He held the lance firmly, tucking it under his arm for support. You backed away when he dug his heels into his horse, and it broke into a gallop, racing towards the straw target with all the speed it could muster, its hooves tearing up the grassy earth beneath it. Celegorm waited until the right time, just as he was told. He extended his arm and released, just as he was told. The blunted end struck the shield square in the center. Celegorm hooted in triumph, then howled in agony when the target spun like a top and the stuffed war-hammer struck him square on the back. You ran to him as soon as it happened, alarm coursing through your body. 

"My lord!" You cried. "My lord, are you hurt?"

"Just my blasted pride," Celegorm answers quickly, ridding himself of the lance. It fell to the earth with a soft thud. "Tell me. How old are mortal children when they acquire skill with this weapon?"

"Ten and six for most, my lord," you replied, pausing. "If they are strong enough to wield it." 

"Ten and six." Celegorm sputtered in disbelief. "Eru save me. And how old were you?"

"The same age or thereabouts. Some are deadly with the lance by the time they reach that age."

"Deadly with it." Celegorm stammered again, ashamed that an elf should struggle to master a weapon. "If my brothers learn of this, I will not hear the end of their teasing."

"All the more reason for you to practice," you reply. You had heard of Celegorm's brothers and how they competed against each other. You felt for him. "But enough for today. We will start again tomorrow."

Celegorm dismounted and walked with you back to the tower house he had come to call home, to the chambers that gave him some peace. Once safely ensconced in his bedroom, you helped him undress.

"You said you were unhurt!" you exclaimed. An angry bruise had formed, just beneath his shoulder blades. "Pray give me a moment. I have a balm for it."

"No." Celegorm crawled onto his featherbed, biting back a helpless whimper. "Leave it be for now. Come, lay beside me a little."

The world outside changed and darkened. Golden light gave way to the dark, the animals of the night, and the full moon. Torches came to life, their light chasing away the gloom. A dog barked just beneath the open window. Someone shouted orders. 

Celgorm was silent, brooding over his failure. You propped yourself on your elbow. "How are you, truly?"

He turned to face you, his rich blue eyes half-hidden in shadow.

"Ashamed," he confessed. "I am an elf, one who was born in Valinor, and a prince of the Noldor besides. And yet I struggle to master a weapon." 

"This was only your third day, my lord." You reached out and brushed stray locks of golden hair out of his eyes. "There is no shame in not mastering a skill so soon."

"Yes, but mortal children do. By the time they are ten and six!"

"Because our world is more dangerous, we have no other choice. Do not fret, my lord. You will be unhorsing the best of them before long."

The games, or jousts, as the Edain called it were something they devised to train and prepare hopeful warriors. Celegorm had heard of it, after establishing a lordship for himself in Himlad. Those from amongst the Edain would ride against each other, seeking honor, gold, and glory, companions to shower them with all manner of favors. He was told the next games would be held on another turn of the moon. There was still enough time for him to learn. Celegorm grew more hopeful. 

"Yes," he decided. "I will be ready then. Now, what shall we do to pass the time?"

You wrinkle your brow. "Read, perhaps? Shall I call for some candles?"

"No." Celegorm sat up, shaking his head, and said, "No. I am not in the mood to read."

"No books?" you said, tilting your head to the side and smiling slowly. "How about a game of dice, then? It is all the fashion now."

"As my brother Curufin would tell you," Celegorm said gravely, "I should be allowed nowhere near a game of dice. Or any game of chance, for that matter." 

You smiled and sat up straight. This was all just part of a little game that both of you played every night without fail. Celegorm would fuss, you would offer other amusements, and Celegorm would fuss again. The game inevitably ended in fits of laughter and passionate embraces. 

"Hmmm." You narrowed your eyes in mock concentration. "No books and no games of chance. How about some music, then?" 

Celegorm's eyes blazed then. "Oh yes. I know just the music I want to hear now, and only you can provide it."

The true meaning of what he said was not lost on you. You made yourself look sober and grave, and replied thus: "You commanded me to hold my tongue, my lord, and I am not one to ignore such commands. Because of this, you will have no music from me."

Celegorm clapped his hand over his heart. "Oh!" He lamented. "Would you forgive me for my careless command, sweet y/n? How can I atone for it? Should I plead? Go to my knees? Abase myself like a lowly creature before my wounded love?" 

It was hard to remain stern after his little display. You laughed, in small burps at first, before breaking into fits of it. 

"You, my lord, are impossible." You leaned forward and kissed him. Celegorm slid his arms around you, his sweet breath leaving you dizzy and weak. "But I am glad you are mine."

"As I am glad you are mine," Celegorm laid back down, taking you with him. "Now come, loosen that beautiful tongue for me."

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Sweet as cake

Summary: Ned surprises his wife with lemon cakes

Did someone say fluff? Because this is just that and nothing else

It had seemed like a stupid thing, but he knew every worried thought was worth it when he saw the light in her eyes. That such a small thing could bring so much happiness, it was strange. Though at least she was happy so that did not matter.

“You sent for lemons?” she asked, her voice a bit higher than usual.

Ned had never seen her smile as wide as she did when she watched the lemon cakes sitting on the table.

“I did.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

Last time she had been with child she had eaten every cake she could get her hands on and lemon cakes had been her favourite. And lately Ned had noticed her appetite for sweet things increasing as she grew rounder around the middle and so had decided he might as well secure the supply. As well as make sure she could have what she liked best.

“Oh Ned, you’ll make me weep.”

She grabbed his face and forced his head down, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then on to his lips. It was too quick for him to return it, he had barely realised what she was doing before she had turned back to the plate of cakes standing on the table before them.

“This really was not necessary, but thank you, my love” she said.

By the end of the sentence she had already taken a large bite out of a cake. Ned could only stand there and smile as he watched her close her eyes and hum with contentment. He wondered if there was a greater joy than the one in him as he knew he had made his wife so very happy.

Once she opened her eyes she seemed to realise he hadn’t touched the plate.

“Take one!”

“Oh no, they’re for you” he responded.

Ned had never been particularly fond of cakes and similar treats, the sweetness was not at all something that appealed to him.

Before he knew it she had one right under his nose.

“Take a bite.”

Who was he to refuse that?

It wasn’t bad at all, the slightly sour sweetness was a pleasant taste, but he wouldn’t have wanted much of it. Not that he would have been able to take another bite as Catelyn had finished the rest of it while she looked at him with glowing eyes.

“It was good” he said, nodding.

“So good!”

Somehow Catelyn managed to fit an entire cake into her mouth, giving her a striking resemblance to a squirrel.

“My beautiful lady” Ned chuckled.

He leaned down and kissed her nose before turning to pour himself a cup of wine.

“Your round and happy lady” Catelyn managed to get out after chewing for a bit.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ned went to sit on the furs they had placed in front of the hearth. She followed, carrying the plate of cakes and placing it in front of them.

“I feel like a child” she sighed as she arranged her skirts around her. “But also I have been wanting these for weeks.”

“And yet you didn’t ask for it.”

“The cost and work required didn’t seem justified when I considered that my only reason is that I’m with child and always hungry for everything sweet.”

Had their coffins been empty and their people starving it would have been an issue, but as it was they had means to fill their castle with everything required to make her sweets.

Ned reached out with his free hand and ran it through her hair. When she was with child it was even thicker and more lustrous, he thought more of it than was reasonable. A large part of his time was spent thinking about when he could touch it again.

“That is not an issue as of now” he told her.

“Once winter comes I will kick you out of my bed because if you get me with child and I can’t have whatever food I wish I will go mad” she informed him in turn.

“Then I’m very happy for that summer has yet to end.”

She moved closer to him and he welcomed her with open arms, let her lean against him. She was warm and soft and lovely. The flickering light from the fire in the hearth gave her a wonderful glow.

“Not more than I, dearest husband.”

She turned her face up and kissed him. He could taste the lemon cakes on her lips, feel how she smiled.

“Had I not already been with child I would have commanded you to put one in me now” she mumbled as they parted. “But that is already done so I will just eat my cakes.”

“Do so” he chuckled.

“Oh nothing will stop me” she said and took another bite of a cake.

Never had a woman shoving more cake into her mouth than could possibly fit been so endearing.

[lixorloveslicorice]

what if I sent you an anonymous ask about sour lemons again? Do you want that? Do you really wish to suffer? You believe yourself to be god yet lighting does not strike at your fingertips

what if i bashed you against the wall until you were red mush but in a cute way

[rainbowjay20]

My Aunt asked why I was writing down what I was eating.

I have the watch with the blood sugar, but that makes no sense without the food to match to it.

Well, in theory..

May 8th

9:37pm- 2 scoops EDY'S Light Ice Cream, Caramel Delight(1/2 fat)

-3 Tablespoons Carmel Sauce

-2 Tablespoons Sanding Sugar

May 9th Thursday

4am -Slice of Little Debbie Lemon Cake

9:30am -12oz Salted Carmel coffee(Target brand) + 4 oz of Fat Free Half and Half (No Sweeteners)

10:15am -Mini Lemon Bundt Cake

10:30am -Arnold Palmer 22 oz

1pm -Very, very, very small (very, very) piece of cheese(snuck off the one that the dog got, just a string)

-1 Baby Carrot while putting away Groceries

-Power C Vitaminwater (finished at 9:50pm)

2pm- 1 small sip of Sprite

3:10pm- 1/10 pound RB, 2 Slices Lettuce Kaiser Roll W/1/2 Tbsp Mayo

-1 Mini Lemon Bundt Cake

-2 (TwoBite) Brownie BAL

4:15 -Sour Cream UTZ Chips

-0.78oz Rice Krispie Treat

5:45pm -Cherry Water Ice

7:15-7:30pm(app) -0.78oz Rice Krispie Treat

8:30pm -15oz Salted Carmel Java Monster

-2 (Two Bite) Brownie Bites

So you would think my blood sugar would go up at the times when I was eating the high sugary food. Pygmy Zebra strikes again.

The three evil desserts.

But these numbers are not the signs of diabetes. I took care of my Dad long enough to know, this is way too low for a diabetic. It's not doing the crash and burn after eating food that is so common in reactive hypoglycemia.

So WTF?! I gotta find a "House". Even if they put me through a ringer to diagnose me.

There is something, maybe not bad, but something. It's driving me crazy.

I will be found out eventually, I guess. Until then I will continue to collect more data.

[silkenstarlight]

a night in crimson valley

Summary: Reader is a bartender at the Crimson Valley Motel. After she is accosted by a drunk John Walker, a familiar face offers her protection and comfort.

Pairing: Biker!bucky x bartender!reader

Warning/s: language, violence, alcohol use; sorta fluffy end

Word count: 5.6k

Author’s note: I’m unsure whether I want to turn this into a series; please let me know your thoughts!

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Her nose burned with the scent of blood and cheap vodka, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

In the early days, when she had first been stationed at this bar, she had stocked the cupboard beneath the register with supplies. Lemon-scented bleach, candy-blue windex, a dried up tube of wet wipes. Every night before closing, she had tugged on a pair of yellow rubber gloves and gone to work. Rubbing, scouring, swabbing away every spilled shot, every stray fingerprint. The dirt and spit and grime seemed to accumulate instantly, and yet, she continued her sisyphean housekeeping, trying to paint over the bar’s run-down reality with a layer of chemical gloss. But, all of that effort was to no avail; this was a roadside establishment, so there would always be sloppy drunks, and there would, most assuredly, always be bar fights, new stains to replace old. No use in hiding it.

Now, she’d grown numb to it, the cleaning supplies below the register covered in an ever-thickening coat of dust. The once shiny, lacquered surface of the bar now reflected dully beneath the low light, encrusted with old dirt and sour deeds. The floor was sticky, a years’ worth of spilled cocktails accumulating in a tacky glue trap. The mirror behind the bar, its surface cloudy and warped, reflected the late-night debauchery of men in desperate need of respite.

Every night, she wiped foggy glasses with the same gray, fraying rag, watching the same blurred, bearded faces pass through. The Crimson Valley Motel, owned by (Y/N)’s father, was a dependable option for truckers looking for a night away from the cramped quarters and lumpy cots of their vehicles. With its low nightly fares and extensive parking, and her father’s promise of discounted drink prices at the attached bar, customers returned without fail. Even still, she tried not to grow too attached to any patrons. They were just passing through, after all, with separate lives waiting for them beyond the road and the walls of the motel. But, sometimes, she just couldn’t help herself. 

Bucky Barnes was one such case.

The first things she had noticed the moment he walked into the bar two years ago were his eyes. Piercing blue, stern and ever-watchful, set beneath the overhang of his perpetually furrowed brow. That first night, he had nursed his whiskey glass with two gloved hands, staring at the bar’s surface as if he were trying to memorize every intricacy and flourish in its woodgrain. She had appreciated his presence ever since, so quiet and watchful, a stark departure from the raucous drunkards and wild military men who usually frequented the Crimson Valley Bar. And, despite the fact that he drank as much as the other patrons, he never seemed affected by the alcohol, his gaze as clear and haunting as ever, even well into the dark hours of morning. It almost made her laugh, his perfect stoicism and strong  jaw, the classic image of unperturbed masculinity. But she could sense the ghost of some deep sadness in the downturned set of his mouth. His shoulders always seemed tense, and he continually shifted his weight in his seat, peering over his shoulder every once in a while, as if suspicious that he was being watched. It made her swallow any skepticism about his demeanor, instead deciding that he was likely a very broken man, deserving of the space and quiet his countenance demanded. For that reason, she never asked him any questions, never made a move to satiate that burning curiosity within her. Better to keep a respectful distance than stir up unwelcome memories. 

She had never even really spoken to him, and only knew his name because she once caught his signature on a receipt. By the time she read it, he had whisked away to spend the night in his motel room and prepare for departure early the next morning.

Whenever he came back, it was like she could sense his presence, could feel his steely gaze sweeping the bar. It was comforting, a sweet bubble of solace beneath the humming neon and peeling rock n’ roll posters, a space of quiet surrounded by the pressing screech of electric guitar and deep boom of drums. She never knew when he would return, his trucking routes and schedule difficult to predict with such minimal information, but she secretly looked forward to it. Another day, another opportunity to unwrap the quiet mystery of Bucky Barnes.

Tonight, the bar was crowded. Hopeful thoughts of seeing Bucky retreated to the very back corner of her mind as she poured sparkling streams of amber liquid into lines of waiting glasses, shaking and stirring and swirling again and again in the rote, mindless motions that a full house required. She had no room to daydream, not on a Saturday night, when more lonely truckers sought out the bar for company, and when the local military base flooded in on their night out. In a room full of loud men with wanting mouths, she needed to work quickly.

On nights like these, the men mostly left her alone, too absorbed in their own festivities to take much note of her. Beyond the simple “pleases” and “thank yous,” they seemed to recognize that any attempt to strike up a conversation would interrupt her flow and leave her begrudging, frustrated, and not exactly an ideal conversation partner. But, some men couldn’t take a hint.

She had been cutting lemon wedges, concentrating on creating an even slice and avoiding her fingertips with the dull knife blade. She counted each slice before pouring the wedges into a chilled metal bowl, her movements precise and rhythmic. 1, 2. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3--

“Hey, bartender! I asked you a question.”

She knew it was John before she even bothered to look up. She sighed heavily, placing the knife on the counter and wiping her hands before tilting her gaze upwards.

John Walker was another regular here, but her opinion of him was very different than the tentative infatuation she harbored for Bucky Barnes. To put it simply, she did not like John. Whenever he swaggered past the bar’s threshold, flanked by his two favored cronies, she shuddered. Unlike the relatively polite regulars who frequented the bar, John was demanding, expecting (Y/N) to cater to his every whim without complaint. He was, apparently, a favored recruit at the military base. She just thought he was a privileged asshole. One time, he refused to tip her because she didn’t smile at him when she served his drink. And, another time, he broke his glass on purpose just to watch her clean it up.

Now, he was staring at her, head cocked and arms crossed, expecting an answer to a question she hadn’t heard him utter.

She sighed again, leaning against the counter. “Sorry, John. Didn’t catch your question.” Her voice was flat, lacking in genuine sympathy. “Mind repeating it?”

“Can’t even listen,” he said to himself, shaking his head in disappointment. “As I asked earlier, did you water down my fuckin’ snakebite?”

She stared at him, eyes boring into his cold blue ones, and she thought for a second. She was annoyed by his interruption, but this could go poorly if she didn’t handle it with care. If she said the wrong thing, he could get offended, and she was the only woman in a room full of men. She could hold her own in a fight and had some experience with self-defense, sure, but that wouldn’t hold up against a man with John’s stature and training. She couldn’t predict if any of the other men in the room would come to her rescue if things went south, but she couldn’t really blame them. He was tall and strong, and had a temper to boot. But his fragile masculinity, which compelled him to talk down to her and order such ridiculous drinks as a snakebite, wouldn’t survive if she talked back. So, her decision was made.

“Well, John,” she said, her voice low as she smirked. “Usually, you’re already plastered by the time you make it to my bar. I always have to water down your drinks because you can’t hold your fucking liquor.”

His face darkened, brows drawing downwards in a chilling expression of anger. He gritted his teeth together and pushed back from the bar, motioning to turn away from her and back to his friends. “I can handle my liquor just fine, thank you.”

She cleared her throat, catching his attention. “Actually, just last weekend, you threw up all over the parking lot. My poor Pops had to clean it up.” She chuckled at the memory of her father, grumbling with a bucket and mop in hand, as John sat with his head in his hands in the front office. “You might not remember it, John, but I do. We all do.” The incident had occurred well before closing time, so many of the bar’s customers had seen it with their own eyes. One or two had surely caught it on camera.

“Are you fucking mocking me?” A vein popped out on his neck, his face growing read and hot.

She felt her pulse rise in fear, but she ignored it, hand resting next to the knife on the counter. “Maybe I am.” She leaned forward, leering at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I going to do about it?” He laughed incredulously, picking up his half-full glass and examining its amber-colored contents briefly before hurling it at the mirrored wall behind her.

She ducked, shielding her face from splattering liquid and broken glass. “Shit.” She dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled, frantically clambering below the bar for the cleaning cupboard. She knew how this encounter would go, but she was starting to realize that she shouldn’t have pushed it. He had never actually threatened her physical harm before, resigning himself to simply being an asshole. Tonight, that had obviously changed.

“Nuh-uh, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His voice was still loud enough to pierce her eardrums over the pulsating music. He reached down to where she was, grasping for Windex in the dusty, cavernous cabinet, and roughly gripped her hair in his fist. He pulled up harshly, causing an unpleasant sting to radiate down her scalp. The breath caught in her throat. 

She had fucked up. Badly.

He wrenched her close, until their faces were just inches apart. He examined her face, his own visage arranged in an unpleasant sneer. She looked straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down, even though she was frightened of what he might do. 

“I should put you in your place.” His voice was quiet, only audible to her. She shuddered, lip curling in distaste. The sour taste of bile rose on her tongue at the violating way his eyes scanned her face, as if he were a predator examining his prey. A few patrons were watching, pausing their conversations to watch the show. But, none were helping, jumping up to arrive at her aid. A dark pit grew in her stomach at the observation.

He loosened his grip on her hair and she moved to pull back, but before she could, he spit in her face, a thick, hot wad of saliva landing on her cheek. Her mouth gaped in disgust, nose flaring, and she stepped back, wiping the insult from her face with her sleeve and slipping the knife she had been using earlier into her hand, concealing it behind her back. She retreated until her back was flush with the mirror behind her, eyes flitting wildly, trying to find a gap in the crowd where she could disappear and distance herself from him. But all she could see was his face, his hooked nose and hooded eyes, that awful, sneering expression, as he prepared to jump over the bar and bridge the gap between them. 

But, before he could, his head slammed into the bar’s wooden surface with a sickening crack!

Her mouth dropped open in confusion, the rushing bout of adrenaline quickly waning in her veins as she took in the sight of John, head pinned to the counter by a gloved hand. Wait, is that--?

Her suspicions were confirmed when she looked up from John’s floundering figure to find Bucky, his hand firmly wrapped in John’s hair, his face contorted in an expression of rage. She had never seen him like this, nose scrunched, eyes dark. His eyes briefly flickered to hers, and when their gazes met, his face softened slightly, as if to provide her with some sense of reassurance. The breath stalled in her throat, but before relief could flood into her limbs, she saw John stirring in Bucky’s grip.

“What… what the fuck, man?” John turned his head, cheek pressed against the bar’s cool surface, to stare at Bucky out of the corner of his eye.

“Watch yourself, buddy.” Bucky’s voice was gruff and uncaring.

“Buddy?” John scoffed. 

“Well, what’s your name, then?”

A laugh rose in John’s throat, bubbling over into a bitter, joyless sound. He was trying to intimidate Bucky into backing off, shifting his weight below him in an effort to distract him.

It didn’t work. Bucky simply pressed John’s face even harder into the counter, until the breath whooshed from John’s lips in a muffled, defeated gasp. 

“I asked you a question.”

“Fine-- fine. Name’s Walker.”

“Well, Walker,” Bucky replied, leaning in close until his face obstructed John’s vision. “Keep your fucking mitts off my girl here.”

“What?” She couldn’t help it as the question left her lips in a surprised gasp. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to her again, lips pulling down in an embarrassed grimace, as if he hadn’t meant to call her that. 

That moment was enough time for John to act.

Bucky grunted and stumbled back a couple of steps as John pushed out from under him. There was no time to think, no time to act, before John strode towards Bucky and socked him straight in the nose, Bucky’s head whipping violently to the side.

(Y/N)’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She stayed anchored to her spot in front of the mirror, unable to move. There wasn’t much that she could do. Now that John had initiated a physical fight, he likely wasn’t going to stop throwing punches until either he or Bucky collapsed. And with Bucky eliminated as a threat, there would be no one standing between John and her. With that thought, she brought the knife out from behind her and clutched it to her chest like a lifeline. She watched Bucky and John with rapt attention, waiting for the fight to turn back in her direction again.

Blood began to gush from Bucky’s nostrils in a thick stream, staining his lips a wet scarlet and dribbling down his chin. But, he smiled, shaking his head slightly and chuckling darkly. 

“You’re really askin’ for it now, Walker.” 

Before (Y/N) could even blink, Bucky sprung, landing a jab and a right cross that hit John square in the chin. He grabbed John by the collar and slammed him into his knee, the pure force knocking the wind out of John’s chest with a meek groan. Bucky pushed John roughly into a table and John stumbled, causing a chair to clatter and fall, but he remained upright, leaning heavily against the table.

“You going to fight back at all?” Bucky’s goading tone took (Y/N) by surprise. Why was he egging him on?

John snorted and cracked his neck, trying to shake an encroaching sense of uncertainty from his limbs. He pushed off from the table and began a slow, circling orbit around the center of the room, sizing Bucky up with a violent, wolflike gaze, pushing the other customers flush against the wall. Bucky simply stood in place and watched, trying to anticipate John’s next move.

John stopped circling when he was directly across from (Y/N), Bucky between them. She felt John’s gaze slide from Bucky to her, his eyes languidly raking over her body, sensing out her fear. When he saw the knife in her hand, he raised an eyebrow in disapproval, shaking his head. Her heart pounded, adrenaline beginning to thrum through her veins once more. 

John widened his stance and bent his knees, assuming an athletic stance in preparation to tackle Bucky.  Bucky imitated his movement, planting his feet firmly into the floor. John inhaled deeply through his nose, once, twice, and then, he took off, running towards Bucky at full speed.

The room watched in silence, holding a collective breath. The only sound was the pounding of John’s boots against hardwood, the music paused long ago.

He hit Bucky with the force of a mack truck. It was enough to knock anyone off their feet, even someone who had fared as well as Bucky in the fight so far. John hit him so hard that they went flying, suspended in the air for a moment. For (Y/N), it felt so much longer, watching her savior struggle against the grip of his opponent in midair, uttering a quiet “Shit!” as his back slammed into the floor. And then, Bucky was still, John crouched over his immobile form, a triumphant smile plastered on his face.

(Y/N) felt her body move off its own accord, pushing away from the wall, past the safety of the bar’s counter, towards the aftermath of the fray. Her legs quivered, a hard lump rising in her throat as she pushed towards the edge of the crowd. She couldn’t see Bucky’s face, his head concealed by John’s hulking body. A shudder wracked her body, her hope waning.

It was like John could sense her presence. He looked up, his sickening grin showing glistening, too-white teeth. She flexed her fingers, adjusting her grip on the knife. John’s eyes caught the movement, sensing the glint of low light against the blade, and he smirked. He was about to rock back onto his knees, to get up and finish what he started, when Bucky’s head slammed into his.

Disoriented, (Y/N) stepped backwards, once again flush with the crowd. One moment, she had been preparing to fight, to let the blood-soaked evening devolve into even more violence. Then, the next, Bucky had suddenly reanimated, an almost superhuman force driving power into his limbs. He bucked John, still reeling from the unexpected headbutt, off of him with an aggressive, thrusting twist. John tumbled and collapsed on the floor next to Bucky, who slowly knelt, then stood, eyes on John the whole time. When John didn’t budge, splayed on the floor with a distant, vaguely dazed expression, Bucky turned his gaze to (Y/N).

The room was dead silent, save for John’s labored breathing and the sound of Bucky’s boots against the hardwood as he slowly walked towards (Y/N). The room seemed to fade around the two of them, the confused, awed, and fearful faces of the spectating patrons blurred together in an anonymous mass. It smelled of sweat and rust and spilled liquor, but she didn’t care, because Bucky was okay.

“Anyone else?” Bucky asked the rest of the room, not taking his eyes off of (Y/N), even for a moment, lest she disappear, or worse. But she didn’t, staying rooted to the same spot, eyes glistening with gratitude. And no one responded to Bucky’s challenge. 

When Bucky came to a stop a foot in front of her, the other customers began to quietly file out, afraid to utter any remarks that may provoke another altercation. John’s two cronies picked him up from the floor, hefting his arms over their shoulders and bolting for the exit, his boots dragging on the floor. (Y/N) watched them exit, watched them stuff John into the backseat of their car before they peeled out of the parking lot and took off with the screeching sound of retreating rubber.

“You know,” Bucky said, his voice soft in spite of the evening’s violent course. “You don’t have to worry about using that. You’re safe with me.” He pointed at the knife, still clutched in (Y/N)’s hands.

She looked down at the knife in her hands and then looked up at him, formulating a response, when she noticed that he had a gash on his jaw, as well as a still steadily-flowing nosebleed. The knife clattered to the floor as she reached for his hand. “You’re bleeding.” Her voice was thick with worry, regretting the fact that he had suffered for her sake.

He shook his head. “I’ve gotten worse.”

“Let me help you.” She glanced urgently around the bar, now empty save for the two of them. “I can close up and bring the first aid kit to your room. I owe you, after all of that.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” He paused for a second, considering. “But, sure. A couple of bandaids wouldn’t hurt.”

She smiled. “I’ll be there in ten.”

His brows creased together slightly, a chagrined smile curling his lips upwards. “Oh, I’m not leaving you alone just yet. We didn’t see where Walker went. He could be waiting just outside with those two other guys.”

She knew that both she and Bucky had seen them drive away, but she nodded anyways. “Alright. Just let me grab the first aid kit and my keys.”

“Deal.”

She picked the knife up from the floor and walked back to the bar, placing it gently in the sink. As Bucky walked towards the entrance, surveying the parking lot outside from the small, frosted window, she reached into the cabinet of cleaning supplies, pulling out a rusted, white box with a blaring maroon cross emblazoned on its front. She blew off the thin layer of dust that coated it and stood, grabbing her keys from the hook next to the mirror and joining Bucky at the entrance.

He turned towards her, noting the first aid kit, and grinned. “Room 102, here we come.”

She returned his smile as he opened the door, midnight air washing over them in a brisk, drafty waft. They stepped outside, engulfed in nighttime chill, and she shut the door and locked it, fumbling with the cold metal of the keys. Bucky stepped closer to her, his arm brushing against hers, his body emanating an intoxicating warmth. She welcomed his proximity, wondering if he could sense the fact that she was cold, as they walked across the parking lot to his motel room.

He pulled his key from his back pocket and slid it through the card swipe, the door unlocking with a crisp click. She was looking out at the parking lot, at the trees and darkness beyond, wondering if John and his friends were in fact lurking out there somewhere, biding their time for the right moment to strike again. He was definitely the type to hold a grudge for a night like this. If he didn’t retaliate tonight, he would soon, would let her soak in the fear for a few days and then arrive at the bar unannounced with dues to pay.

Bucky cleared his throat, and (Y/N)’s attention snapped back to him. She looked up at him, eyes wide and surprised, and found that his smile was gentle and knowing. 

“You’re safe with me. Come on, let’s get inside. It’s cold.”

When they stepped inside, they were greeted with a welcoming warmth. The door shut behind them. He walked over to the little oak nightstand next to the single queen-sized bed and turned on the bedside lamp, its bulb washing the room in a dim, glowing halo of amber. She sighed, muscles relaxing, seeming to melt into the warmth, into the comfort of being somewhere besides the bar. She placed the first aid kit on the bed and shrugged off her cardigan.

“So, doc,” Bucky teased, approaching her at the foot of the bed. “What’s the plan? How’re you going to fix me up?”

“Well,” she said, squinting as she examined his face. “We’ll have to wash all that blood off first, so I can assess the damage.”

He gestured to the bathroom with one hand. “Lead the way.”

They walked into the bathroom and he flipped the light on, its white fluorescence a stark contrast from the soft light in the other room. She grabbed a bleach-white washcloth from the shelf above the toilet and turned on the faucet, dampening the cloth under the steady stream of water. She turned off the faucet and stepped back as Bucky leaned against the sink, crossing his arms.

“This might sting,” she said quietly, stepping into the space between his legs, his stance framing hers. He simply nodded in response. She tried not to think about their sudden proximity, the fact that she was alone in a motel room with a man who had risked his own safety to protect hers, a man she had been secretly pining over for a while now. Instead, she smoothed the wet washcloth in her hands and brought it up to his face, dabbing gingerly at a stream of blood that had dried on his cheek. When she brushed against the cut on his jaw, he winced, a sharp huff of breath leaving his nose.

“Sorry,” she apologized, trying to handle the cloth with light fingers. “He really got you there.”

“Even if that’s true, part of me thinks I should thank the guy.”

(Y/N) paused. “W-what?”

“Well, he’s an absolute ass. Deserved what he got,” he chuckled. “But now, I’ve got the pretty girl who works at my favorite bar taking care of me. It was definitely worth a couple of scrapes.”

“I--” her response died in her throat, choked by the deep blush that was creeping up her neck. She paused dabbing at his face, looking at him quizzically.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, noting her creased brow and parted lips. “Too soon.”

“No-- no. It’s okay.” She shook her head and smiled, moving the washcloth to his upper lip as she wiped away the evidence of his bloody nose. I just didn’t think you felt that way, too.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, (Y/N) trying to avoid direct eye contact the whole time, lest her blush return, his face was clean. She stepped back and examined her handiwork before throwing the bloodied washcloth in the waste bin and leading Bucky back into the main room. She sat down on the bed, its springs groaning in a rusty bounce beneath her, and she opened the first aid kit, searching for a suitable bandage for his jaw. He knelt on the floor in front of her, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her, caging her in with his arms but refusing to let his touch drift any closer without permission. He watched her fingers flit indecisively between the different band-aid choices. 

Finally, she plucked one from its box, carefully unpeeling its wrapping. Bucky tilted his head slightly, allowing her easy access to the cut on his jaw, and she delicately placed the band-aid over it, careful not to press too hard against the tender skin. Her touch unconsciously lingered a moment longer, lightly caressing his face with the pads of her fingers. But after a few seconds, when she didn’t pull away, they both inhaled sharply, his face quickly growing hot. Their eyes met, and she dropped her hands to her sides, his piercing blue gaze boring into hers.

 He blinked and stood, walking over to the door and hunching down to glance at the parking lot through the peephole.

“I should get going,” (Y/N) said, voice hushed as she snapped the first aid kit shut. She stood, grabbing her cardigan, preparing to meet the cold outside and run to her permanent room. “Thank you. For everything.”

He turned away from the door. “Hold on.” His voice was grave, a stark contrast to the light, flirty turn of the evening since they had entered his room. “We still don’t know if he’s out there.”

(Y/N) bit her lip and shifted her weight, silently grateful for his hesitancy to let her be alone. “What are you suggesting?”

“You can take the bed.” He gestured to the spot on the carpet between the bed and the door. “I can take the floor.”

“A-are you sure?” 

“If I was in your position, I wouldn’t want to be alone,” he said, voice rough and quiet. “But, it’s your decision to make. I can walk you back to your room, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

She thought for a second. She agreed with Bucky’s observation that John may still be out there, lying in wait, and he had been spot-on with the remark that it would be frightening to be alone after tonight’s violence. So far, Bucky had proven himself to be good. She felt comfortable around him. He didn’t try to touch her, and he still gave her options, despite the fact that he seemed oddly protective of her. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he wouldn’t try to slip into bed next to her in the darkest hours of morning. He was a good man. He would live up to his promise and give her space, acting as a blockade between her and the outside world. For tonight, he would be the promise of warmth, of comfort, of safety.

“I think I’d be more comfortable here. With you.”

“Alright.” He offered a simple reply, walking over to her and taking the first aid kit and her cardigan from her, placing them on top of the dresser. “You’ll be safe with me,” he reassured her, bending down to look her in the eyes when he said it, uttering each word with heavy truth.

She nodded and bit her lip. When she felt her blush creeping back up her face, those stern, icy blue eyes of his fixated on her, she turned away, directing her attention towards the bed, hands smoothing over the covers. She grabbed a pillow, its blanched case stiff and rough from continual washing, and handed it to him. He smiled and took it, humming a low laugh and placing it on the floor next to the bed.

She pulled back the sheets as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Her eyelids were suddenly heavy, her body absolutely exhausted, but grateful for a safe place to rest after the day’s peril. She felt herself lull into a hypnotic state of rest before she could even pull the covers over her body, listening to the rumble of the motel’s heater and the whoosh of cars driving past on the distant highway.

Bucky finished in the bathroom and tiptoed to the closet. He grabbed the extra blanket from the top shelf, its woolen fabric starchy and coarse, and plopped it onto the floor next to his pillow. Then, he looked down at (Y/N), curled up on the bed, already halfway into a dream. He sighed, a soft smile gracing his lips, and he reached for the blankets on the bed, pulling them up over her sedated form. She shifted under the covers, settling into their warmth, and he turned off the bedside lamp, the room submerged in a sudden, but not unwelcome, darkness.

                                                             ✧

She woke to light streaming through the gap in the curtains.

The room smelled of lavender detergent and carpet cleaner, and of something distinctly masculine and unfamiliar, the scent of mint toothpaste and rainfall. She stretched, her body grateful for a restful night as memories of the previous day trickled back in. John’s threats, Bucky’s heroism. Her shyness, her inability to tell him how she felt, despite the fact that he so clearly reciprocated those feelings he had hinted at.

She sat up in bed and looked around the room. On the floor next to her, the spare blanket was folded neatly, the pillow she had given to Bucky the previous night stacked on top of it. His duffel was gone from its perch on the dresser. Any trace of him had disappeared, save for the scent that hung in the air and the memories that clung to (Y/N)’s brain.

She sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. She had a lot of work to do today. She supposed that she should probably clean up the bar after last night’s incident, and should break open the cleaning supplies that she had left untouched for so long. She wished that she had had the chance to say goodbye to Bucky before he left, a faint sense of longing gripping her throat. But, at least the cleaning would take her mind off of that, for the time being.

As she stood, she brushed through her hair roughly with her fingers, gathering the first aid kit and her cardigan. She surveyed the room one last time, bathed in soft morning light, when a square of white on the nightstand caught her eye.

Brows furrowed with confusion, she walked over, abandoning her things on the bed. On the nightstand was a notepad, an uncapped pen sitting next to it. A brief note was scribbled on it.

Call me if he comes back. 

Or, if you need me. For anything.

-Bucky

The message was followed by a phone number.

(Y/N) ripped the note from the pad and stared at Bucky’s slanted, spiked handwriting for a moment, noting the sharp angles and rushed script of his letters.

She stuffed the note in her back pocket and smiled.

[atsoraasayoma]

I just read all three. Fantastic. Takeru and Hikari the agents of chaos strike again! They are also sectioned off in two of these stories together and I am all for it! I can imagine them both getting drunk off lemon sours now lol.

A translation of the three audio dramas that were distributed during the first three weeks of Digimon Adventure 02 THE BEGINNING‘s theater run (October 27-November 16, 2023), featuring short stories with the movie’s characters.

[ladykissingfish]

What do you think, in today’s world, the Akatsuki members’ favorite foods would be? Doesn’t have to be their canonical faves either. Love your blog/all your quirky little posts! ❤️

thank you for the love for my blog, I appreciate it!

and I like your question. let’s see, um, well Hidan and Deidara I can see being typical young guys and just living off of fast food. I can see Deidara eating like 40 McDonald’s chicken nuggets in one sitting, covered in a mix of bbq and sweet and sour sauces, and still complaining about being hungry. Hidan I can see being a burger guy, the bigger and thicker, the better. And not just a burger but a burger loaded with pickles and tomatoes and onions and half a cow’s worth of cheese. Topped with a mountain of ketchup-drenched fries that Deidara (if he’s eating with Hidan) will filch half of. Oh, and soda. These two can down an entire 12 pack of Coke each or just guzzle two liter bottles.

Kakuzu and Kisame, I can see being a bit more evolved in their tastes. Kisame being half-shark probably has an appreciation for fine sea food, like salmon or mahi mahi; or I can also see him being the type to go to one of those conveyor belt sushi places and just amassing stacks of plates at his elbow. Kakuzu, well the old guy is cheap af, but on the few occasions he’s not, I can see him enjoying a nice steak, rare, maybe with sautéed onions and mashed potatoes, and some sort of cruciferous vegetable. Kisame strikes me as a water drinker and Kakuzu (again when he’s not being cheap) either a good glass of wine, or a scotch.

Sasori doesn’t eat, but if he DID, I can kinda see him having a thing for soufflés. Like wanting to make them on his own and always working on perfecting his recipes to make the fluffiest creations ever. Making a soufflé requires a lot of precise baking work and attention to detail, which I feel someone like him would be good at. Also see him as being the kind to enjoy a cold glass of milk, and *chocolate* milk if he’s being “adventurous” that day.

Konan, she has such a lovely slim figure and I imagine she eats in a way to keep herself in shape, so mostly healthy foods like salads, yogurt, lean proteins and a variety of fruits and vegetables. But when she allows herself a “cheat” day, I can see her being just as big a fast food eater as Deidara and Hidan. For some reason I picture her going to Taco Bell, ordering a nachos bell grande and like 4 chalupas, eating it all, hiding the evidence and working out twice as hard the next day, to make up for it. Also see her being like Kakuzu in that she enjoys an occasional glass of wine, maybe a hard drink every now and then.

Obito and Itachi, they grew up in the Uchiha clan and the Uchiha never had a lot of money or resources, instead learning to stretch what they had to make delicious meals. So I think each of their favorite things to eat would be home cooked things, simple yet tasty. Maybe for Obito garlic-roasted chicken and potatoes, or possibly a marinated roast beef. For Itachi, I can see breakfast as being his thing, like big homemade breakfasts like his mother used to make: pancakes, fried potatoes, sliced tomatoes, eggs, bacon, or maybe once in a while something like an apple tart. Both of them strike me as tea drinkers, although I see Obito as drinking his tea plain/black and Itachi using a lot of honey or lemon or sugar as sweeteners.

Nagato, I think he’d really be a fan of pasta. Easy to eat, easy to digest, and so many different types. I think a vegetable lasagna would be his favorite type, noodles and ricotta and mozzarella, spinach, zucchini, carrots, peppers … and he’d ask Konan to make this for him at least once a week. He’s not a big eater in general but with this I can see him having 2 or 3 servings. Also see him as being a coffee drinker, although he’s trying to cut back because the caffeine probably isn’t very good for his heart.

and Zetsu … well, his eating habits would be hard to stick into a modern day world, right? But maybe he’d enjoy some unique cuts of (cooked) meat, stuff like roast rabbit, or herb-crusted rack of lamb, or maybe even quail or squab. Like Kisame, I see him as being solely a water drinker.

[ivyaugustetc]

the dead poets at hogwarts: a headcanon from hell

@aedan-mills @charlie-dalton-simp @pretentious-strikes YOU ENCOURAGED THIS BEHAVIOR SO YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE CONSEQUENCES. also i love you a lot but THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT.

also @aedan-mills i found out that some of the wand stuff is related to their birthdays and i am much too lazy to look all that up and figure it all out, but anyone else is welcome to lmao. sorry to disappoint but alas it's summer and i don't want to research that much. but other than that, please listen to me flex my extensive knowledge on harry potter :)

neil (half blood): i'm sorry,,,, can you say gryffindor? this boy would get up there and in a second the sorting hat would have him all figured out: big dreams with the will to pursue them, but not ambitious enough to step over others to achieve said dreams? sounds like a gryffindor to me. i just know he'd thrive at hogwarts, probably going on to play quidditch (def a chaser) and would excel in charms class. as far as pets go, i feel like he'd stay simple and classy with a chill barn owl he'd name after a famous broadway actor. he would kind of be a mix of james and remus, in which he's wild and crazy but still manages to get good grades. the teachers love him simply because they don't know much about him outside of class. he would absolutely LOVE going to hogsmeade and going batshit crazy at zonko's and honeydukes. he'd have a whole phase where he gets addicted to licorice wands and everyone else thinks they're disgusting but he simply cannot buy enough of them. he'd play a bunch of zonko tricks on the rest of the poets, saving the most harsh for charlie and the most wholesome for todd <3

todd (muggle born): ugh see i can see him being both a hufflepuff and a ravenclaw, but my heart says hufflepuff so i'm gonna go with that. he would absolutely HATE the sorting ceremony with a burning passion. getting up in front of everybody only to have a hat judge u??? no thanks. HAHAHA CAN YOU IMAGINE HIM ON A BROOM. i can't either because he would simply never get on one, probably referring to them as "flying death traps" more often than not. "hey todd, you think about joining quidditch?" "no thanks, i'd rather keep my limbs intact ;)". but he would love muggle studies a lot, even if the teacher was boring as hell. snape would scare the hell out of him for sure, resulting in his lowest class being potions. he would excel in classes that are more learning out of the book rather than in practice. for a pet, he'd want something that could not possibly turn on him and would just be sweet and loving, so ima give him a toad :) he'd name it something fancy and british, like nigel or sumn. and because of nigel, he'd love chocolate frogs because hey they're twins!!

fanon knox (pure blood): hogwarts fuck boy. okay well maybe not f boy but like...his favorite part is the fact that this is a co-ed school rather than an all-boys school so he can spy on both genders equally yknow. hmm i get hufflepuff vibes from him because he's a big romantic, sucker for cute relationships, etc. he would enjoy whichever class his current crush is in, although I feel like he'd do well with classes that involved spells and wand work mostly lmao. he'd want a really fucking cute pet, so i'd give him a kneazle (it's like a cat but a bit more lion like). he'd give it a strong sounding name, something german idk. but he'd love the shit out of that kneazle, i can tell you that much. i feel like he'd try out for quidditch his first few years, not make it on, and then make it on to the team around fourth year and somehow end up team captain in seventh (and that proves kids, that you too can have a redemption arc in sports). as far as candy goes, ima say he likes the super sour candy like acid pops n shit. like i feel like the others would dare him to each as much sour candy as he can and then he wouldn't be able to taste for a week. but he'd think it was worth it :)

cameron (muggle born): good god this boy just wants to learn. magic just fascinates him, what with growing up in a big muggle family (bestie he is the weasleys if they were all type a). he's a ravenclaw, no questions asked. he would love classes involving preciseness and attention, things like potions and transfiguration. i feel like he'd have a cute, stable relationship along the way ofc because he deserves so much love and happiness and UGH he's a baby. he'd stick with a lil ginger cat, naming it after one of the famous wizards he's read about. he would love spending christmas at the school and going places when the ground are nearly empty, enjoying the scenery. for candy, he'd go plain and simple with chocolate frogs. can't go wrong with those. he'd still have fun with his friends, but he'd skip a lot of parties for some studying (don't judge, i do it too lmao). would not play quidditch but would enjoy it, end of story.

charlie (pure blood): slytherin. don't dispute it. think the weasley twins but even more flirtatious. he would be a regular at every single party that happened, flirting with the guys and gals shamelessly and drinking butterbeer like it was water. look me in the eye and tell me he would not absolutely fucking HATE GILDEROY LOCKHART WITH EVER FIBER OF HIS BEING. he'd do spot-on impersonations of him though. teacher's worst enemy. like when he walks into class on the first day, every teacher collectively mutters "bloody hell not this kid again". asks the most incredibly stupid questions ("okay but is there a spell to turn my eyebrows green? just the eyebrows though, not my hair"). he would be the most aggressive beater on the slytherin team, though he would never deliberately try to hit someone, just distract the shit out of them ("put the fear of god in them and fate will do the rest"). he'd want a loud, aggressive pet but he'd probably end up with a mean cat that hisses at everyone. he'd give it the most adorable name that just. does not fit the personality. something like priscilla. for candy, he'd take his chance with bertie botts' every flavour beans and just roll with the punches. he's chaotic like that.

pitts (half blood): ASTRONOMY IS HIS JAM. he fucking loves that class. he tutors the entire ravenclaw house in that class. he's the guy that little first years who are terrified of the class go to when they're completely lost and don't understand what's going on. besides that, i feel like he'd just be everyone's cool older brother yknow? like he'd be in charge of helping all the first years figure out where stuff is and giving them advice to help them and stuff. he would be a die-hard quidditch fan although he would not play the sport (maybe recreationally on the weekends and holidays and stuff, but the fact that it's so fucking dangerous just does not appeal to him). he'd like the candy that does tricks and stuff, like fizzing whizbees and stuff. he gives me charlie weasley vibes, where he's hardcore in certain areas (in his case, astronomy) and just flipping chill in anything else. cool older brother vibes, man. it fits.

meeks (half blood): i've said it once and i'll say it again: nonproblematic ginger dumbledore. also a hufflepuff <3 this dude just wants to fucking coast along, getting good grades and not participating in the dumb shit that could probably get him killed (even though he would in a heartbeat if his friends were in danger. duh). he'd be a teacher's favorite, probably having conversations with his favorite teachers during free time. okay ik this isn't technically at school, but i swear to god he would be dumbledore one day. like he would be the chill ass headmaster who gets shit done while also being very la di da life is nice flowers are pretty type of person. that being said, his favorite candy is and has been lemon drops ever since dumbledore got him addicted to them. his favorite classes would be potions (he'd surprisingly get along well with snape) and he'd just be great and mixing shit right and just knowing how much of stuff to add in ("how much powdered root do i add?" "about three and a half shakes." "that's not a measurement, meeks." "*shrug* it works"). he'd stick with his small friend group and love them to death, but he'd be a friend to all really. he'll help anyone that comes to him asking for help with homework (and though he won't admit it, he gets super prideful when it's someone a few years ahead of him).

stick (muggle born): harry potter if harry potter could've been more harry potter. like he would just be a part of everything and end up being part of some prophecy that demands he'd save the world and at first he'd be like HEY i'm just a small boy but then he'd grit his teeth and finesse the shit out of this preventing the end of days stuff. he'd definitely be a gryffindor, and fucking proud of it. he'd be the seeker on the quidditch team because he is so short and small and yeah he'd fucking kill it there. he'd kind of be the shy one no one expected much from, but once he starts absolutely wrecking the shit out of the other houses' quidditch teams, he'd become sorta popular? like people would invite him to parties and stuff and he's too nice to say no, but he'd mostly just hang around the outskirts, saying hi to the other poets if he saw them and mostly talking to chris and ginny (danburry, not weasley). he'd like defense against the dark arts and minerva mcgongiall would become his literal mother i can't explain it. he'd have an owl as a pet and treat it like it was his own child, telling it thank you every time it brought his mail or took his mail. as for candy, he'd like drooble's bubble gum because the bubbles are all magic and shit and i just feel like that would make him so happy <3

chris (pure blood): the older sister lesbian <3 she'd be a sweet hufflepuff who would be friends with everyone while also being the greatest socialite the school has ever seen. you know that party that practically the entire school attended and talked about for months on end? she planned that shit. she'd be like pitts in the respect that she'd help all the first years find their way in the school and in life in general. she's just such a warm and kind person that everyone would love her. she's have a little pink pygmy puff to match ginny's purple one, and she'd give it such a perfect, human name like lila or something. she'd be great at muggle studies and all the teachers would love her. also every one is so invested in her relationship with ginny it's adorable. he favorite candy is acid pops even though they make her eyes water like crazy. she'd make pretty good grades, every once in a while getting one slightly lower than she'd expected, but she always manages to bring them up to her satisfactory level :) she would not play quidditch, but she would go all out to support ginny, even though they're in different houses. that's what i call love, baby.

ginny (half blood): the mom lesbian <3 she's a ravenclaw and also one of the sweetest people in the whole school. while chris helps other with the social aspect, ginny will help anyone in any subject they need help with (she and meeks are a help duo on this). she's quieter and less social than chris, but she's one of the best chasers the ravenclaw quidditch team has ever seen. she'd end up team captain by fifth of sixth year. she'd be like oliver wood in that she is sO invested in the team's success that at sometimes she'll go a bit crazy, but chris is always there to help her put things back into perspective <3. she'd make stellar grades of course, being good friends with all of her teachers. her favorite candy would be the sweetest things like fairy floss. as previously stated, she'd have a purple pygmy puff to match chris's pink one, and she'd also give it an adorable human name like lisa or something. ginny's just sweet to everyone, especially neil and his friends.

I DID IT. IT TOOK FOREVER AND A FEW HAIL MARYS BUT I DID IT. enjoy besties <3 love u all