#shamelessly stolen from from MASH

[wndrvgl]

please stop using AI

and sorry for my poor english

im on my knees begging yall to stop

like i know the resources r kinda small and tbh artists arent the fastest workers but good lord please fight the urge to make fastfood-like stuffs with AI, my soul dies bit by bit knowing that those things r only possible because people put pictures or even fanarts that have Diego Luna's face in the AI's algorithm or however anyone calls it. its harmful not just for artists but also the people whose face's being copied because deep-fake do be scary as fuck and unfortunately too real for anyone's comfort at this point

and the fucking evil mice (idk if i can just name them) is having a huge drama for using AI generated shit openly and shamelessly rn so you know for a fact that they'll find any wiggle room to cut off artist's jobs as much as they can. thinking of Andor's posters or worse, Opening like that One show that the mice also made got made out of AI, like, for a show about fighting the big powers and also got praised because of good editing, film making, sound design, set design... etc like u get what i mean, people who care about the Art that they're making, get replaced by the souless mashed up abomination made out of stolen bits and pieces of what was there before

so yea in conclusion Please Stop Using AI For Your Favourite Medias and if possible PLEASE DONT USE AI AT ALL, please stop giving the machines fuels to step on the people that they're stealing from

i dont wanna be mean but i'll soft block anyone if i see Andor AI generated ANYTHING

[demonslayedher]

I’ve got an easy question- have you ever come across any cursed pieces of merch? I once saw an Obanai keychain that had two deformed brown eyes instead of his heterochromia 😂 you’re likely tumblr’s leading expert in Kny merch so i just wanted to know if you had, whether it’s weird official stuff or poorly made bootlegs like that poor Obanai ^_^

I wouldn't consider myself a merch expert, I don't exactly go looking for it... it finds me. I can't run from it. It catches me. There it is! There it is again!! So many happy surprises around every corner! Ah!! There goes Muzan, running off with my wallet again!!

Seeing as most of the merch I run into here is either official or made by dedicated fans with arts and crafts skills, or regular products shamelessly using the patterns Shueisha couldn't manage to copyright, I haven't run into the sorts of issues you'd expect from bootlegs (unless I'm looking for stuff on Amazon. Do Giyuu-haori booty shorts count??). I haven't been to been to the Asian continent since before my KnY fandom began, but there were always interesting bootleg items out there--cool ones I'm sure I'd be tempted by, too! You want wallets covered in stolen fanart? You'd have mountains of choices, not all of them good. Also, the less developed of an area you go to, the more bizarre the gift shop items get. Lots of mish-mashes between different series, I'm sure there got to be stuff like Demonslayarutospysawman out there. Sometimes I see the better looking stuff float into to anime stores in the US which care more about it being cool than about it being legit.

The cursed image that keeps coming to mind, though, is one I've seen both in real life and around Tumblr, perhaps you've seen it. It's official merch. The very, very happy chibi Sanemi plush. I don't usually go for plushies in the first place because I usually don't find them cute, and that one especially, I was like... no.

[hydrospanners]

bars and stripes. This isn't the first time Doc has impersonated an Imperial officer and it probably won't be the last. So long as his nervous alien friend doesn't get them caught, that is. SWTOR genfic. Doc, with a guest appearance from another companion. 1400 words. AO3.

“Wait, we’re going in there?”

  Doc nodded, tugging at the stiff collar of his borrowed uniform. He’d forgotten how uncomfortable the damned things were. “I’m thirsty.”

  “And I’m trying to get out of here without putting any new holes in this jacket,” his partner hissed back.

  “No one’s going to shoot you. Trust me, Master Jedi. I’ve done this before.”

  “Do you wanna say that a little louder?” The Jedi mumbled, doing his best to duck his enormous Mon Calamari head behind Doc’s shoulders as the door swung open and two very knackered officers stumbled out, laughing and falling into each other. Doc raised two fingers to his forehead in a casual approximation of a salute, and they answered with blissful smiles and a gesture that was probably supposed to be a salute of their own. “That club is officer’s only, Doc,” the Jedi whispered urgently, tugging him back by the sleeve of his coat. “I am not an officer!”

  “Hard to be an officer when you aren’t even in the army.”

  “At least you have some bars on your collar, Captain. We stole my uniform from a Corporal!”

  “Borrowed,” Doc corrected. “We’ll take it back when we’re done. And anyway, no one’s going to notice. They’ll either be too drunk or too fixated on you being an alien.”

  “I didn’t even think of that,” the Jedi whined. “No one’s gonna believe an alien is an officer.”

  “It’s all about confidence. Just follow my lead and everything will be fine.” Doc reached up, popping a pin from his collar and attaching it to the Jedi’s. Then he sauntered toward the club without waiting for an answer. It was usually easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.

  As bars went, it was fairly sedate. Utilitarian. Nearly identical to every other Imperial officer’s club he’d ever been in, which was a surprisingly high number for a man who’d never been an Imperial citizen. He leaned casually against the bar, relaxing onto his elbow and gesturing for the bartender droid’s attention. He ordered a Sullustan gin and tonic for both him and his partner and scanned the room.

  “Relax,” Doc said, once the bartender had gone to fetch the gin. “We’re just a couple of officers having a drink. Same as the rest. They won’t be interested in you unless you give them a reason to be.”

  “I’m an alien,” the Jedi hissed.

  “Nobody will notice.” The droid returned with their cocktails promptly, and Doc took a slow sip. It was surprisingly good. “You’re going to need a name, you know. Can’t exactly call you—“

  “ Wan. Call me Wan. And that’s pretty rich, coming from you, Doc.”

  “Not my fault your job doesn’t exist on this side,” he shrugged. “Wan.”

“Not so loud.”

  Doc just grinned, sipping at his drink and relaxing into the bar. “You could’ve gone the other direction, y’know. Got some black robes, some big shoulder pads—“

  The color drained from the Mon Calamari—from Wan’s face. “No! No way. Do you know what they would do if they caught me?”

  “Probably no worse than what they’ll do if they catch you here.”

  But Wan was shaking his head, eyes wide with real terror. “They’ll kill me if they catch me here. If they caught me doing that—“ He shuddered, visibly. “They might let me live.”

  Doc didn’t need an explanation to know why that was worse. He’d heard plenty of stories, and after what he’d seen in their Medical Corps, he was pretty sure every one of them was true. “Calm down, Wan. No one’s going to catch you doing anything.”

  Wan nodded, though his yellow skin was still a little dulled, and climbed up onto the bar stool next to Doc. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall directly across from him and held his whole body ramrod straight and unnaturally still. He was making his nerves very obvious, but it was almost working in his favor. The Imps always looked like they had sticks up their asses and right now, despite the fishy features, Wan looked like he fit right in.

  “Keep that up and they might promote you,” Doc grinned, patting the Jedi on the shoulder.

  “Shut up,” Wan grimaced. “What are we even doing here?”

  “I told you. I’m thirsty.”

  Wan gave him a flat, unimpressed look Doc was starting to grow familiar with. It was a look he’d seen on hundreds of faces before and would likely see on thousands more before his time was up. “I can tell when you’re lying, y’know,” Wan said.

  And Doc did know. He’d seen it with his own eyes, how people like Wan could do could smell a lie on the air, or fish the truth directly from a person’s mind. He just wasn’t sure he believed Wan could do it. Wan hadn’t been able to do much of anything else Jedi were supposed to be able to do.

  “Fine. I’m looking for someone.”

  “Please don’t tell me you have friends here.”

  “I didn’t say it was a friend.”

  “Enemies are even worse, Doc.”

  “He’s not an enemy, either. Just someone I’ve worked with before. Someone who can help us out of this mess.”

  “The mess you got us in.” Wan’s eyes danced nervously around the corners of the room. “Is that him over there?”

  Doc shook his head, taking another sip from his drink. He’d hand it to the Imps; their officer’s clubs had much better stock than the swill they served on the other side. Just as long as you could forget the luxury of it was carried on the backs of slaves.

  He’d found that wasn’t a detail he was able to forget.

  “Are you sure? He’s watching us.”

  Doc shook his head again. “He probably just thinks you’re pretty.”

  “ Doc ,” Wan hissed, in that humorless tone of voice Doc knew so well.

  He smiled into his glass. Wan jumped half out of his seat when the door swung open and a trio of officers filed in, their shoulders straight and expressions somber. Their eyes all danced over Wan, but none stuck. They were more interested in the bartender just now. None of their faces were familiar.

  “Oh no.” Wan swallowed thickly, finding a way to sit up even straighter. “He’s coming over here.”

  “Play hard to get,” Doc suggested.

  Wan found it in himself to glare.

  A firm hand settled on Doc’s shoulder, followed by a low, Imperial drawl. “Gentlemen,” the officer—a Major, from the hardware wrapped around his throat—offered them both a predatory smile. His breath stank of rum. “I couldn’t help noticing you over here.”

  “I get that a lot,” Doc affected his own Imperial accent, smiling lazily. “And I’m flattered, really, but I’m taken.”

  The Major’s smile didn’t falter, but there was something in the black of his eyes that told Doc he was not amused. “Noted,” he said. “I also noted that your friend’s jacket seems to have some stripes on it. Surely you are aware that this is the officer’s club.”

  “You’re very observant, Major.”

  “And you are aware that corporals are not permitted in the officer’s club.”

  Doc shrugged, noting that they’d drawn a bit of attention. “He’s a Corporal Captain. Part of a pilot program from Vaiken. Something about finding a use for his kind in the Corps. We’ve got so many of them just sitting around, y’know, seems a shame to let ‘em go to waste.”

  The Major examined Wan thoughtfully, his glazed over eyes scrunched up in concentration. “We already have a use for his kind,” he finally said, sneering. It was clear to everyone listening what use he was thinking of.

  Doc nodded, taking another sip from his drink. He’d need three more of these at the rate this was going. “I reckon they’ve got their reasons up at Command, but Force knows they don’t share ‘em with me.” He gestured lamely to the Captain’s bars on his jacket. “Not my business. I just do what my orders tell me to.” He nudged Wan in the ribs. “Put that in the report, will you? We got another no.”

  The Major nodded. “Indeed.”

  “Well, thanks for your input, Sir. You’ve been a big help.”

  The Major sniffed, like the very concept of helping was beneath him. “Very well,” he said. “Carry on, Gentlemen.”

  Doc offered another lazy almost-salute which the Major turned his nose up at before retreating to his own table with the other, shinier folk. Enough brass to blind a man over in that corner.

  Wan released a long, shuddering breath once he was gone. His shoulders slumped forward and his fingers curled on the bar, like he wanted to move more but was afraid to. Doc just nudged the untouched gin and tonic toward him.

  “I hate you,” Wan said. He downed the drink in one long gulp.

[hansolmates]

would you ever consider writing a lil drabble about the proposal! couple being pregnant? I read that ask a hundred times and I can't stop thinking about it👉🏻👈🏻

pairing; proposal!jk x reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, humor, mc calls herself ugly :(  w/c; 934 a/n; my mind is burned by the thought of that anon saying proposal!jk would snuggle their baby against their chest shirtless n share warmth🥺🥺 mc is still in her early pregnancy at this point but enjoy this lil sneakie peakie

“What is this? This is garbage. The main character has the personality of a sheet of paper,” Jungkook throws down the manuscript on his desk, startling his assistant, “why did you bring me this? Did you want me to feel nauseous before lunch?” 

Unfortunately, Jungkook couldn’t keep Taehyung as his assistant forever. Begrudgingly, Taehyung is far too good an employee to continue following him around. Nam Dosan is a big adjustment to Jungkook: meek, chirpy, and a little too starry-eyed for his liking. 

You keep urging Jungkook to give him a chance, but chance by chance is wearing far too thin for his liking, especially during their busy season. 

“Please don’t kill the messenger, Mr. Jeon,” Dosan holds up his iPad, covering his mouth with it, “um, and speaking of messages. Mrs. Jeon wants you in her office for lunch.” 

“Lunch isn’t for another half hour, Dosan. We still have shit to do.” 

“Oh no, lunch is now,” Dosan’s eyes widen considerably when Jungkook parries him with a glare, ready to face the heat, “Mrs. Jeon’s  order just got delivered and now she’s ready to eat.” 

“But she knows our lunch times—” 

“She said, and these are her words not mine—that if you don’t come in ten minutes she will take every manuscript in this office and burn it in your fireplace.”  

Jungkook relaxes against the seat, regarding his assistant with a knit expression. The only reason why he hasn’t fired Dosan is because of this, Dosan’s ability to remind Jungkook that he’s not only their editor-in-chief, but now a husband. He reminds Jungkook that he has far more pressing obligations in life. 

“Okay, she said ten minutes right?” Jungkook reluctantly tugs the previously thrown manuscript to his chest, already buzzing with potential ideas he can muster up, “I’ll go in ten minutes.” 

“I really don’t think you should let her wait—”

“Ten, Dosan.” 

“You’re twenty minutes late,” you’re ripping the yellow bread roll from your teeth. It’s a force so rough it reminds Jungkook acutely of a wolf ripping apart raw flesh. 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Jungkook placates you gently, subtly locking the door behind you and minding the blinds so that the two of you are covered. He watches your eyes flicker over the rolling shades, dipping the room in an opaque shade of emerald green. You don’t bother getting up to greet him, and wait for him to take the seat across from your desk. 

Your food has been mostly consumed, and Jungkook notices that you’ve started to pick at his own meal. Jungkook’s favorite skirt steak smothered with a golden hollandaise sauce, sitting on a bed of russet mashed potatoes. He sees that a couple strips have been stolen, and rightfully so. 

“I really don’t want to hear the excuses,” you exhale, finally emerging from your desk. 

Food forgotten, Jungkook watches as you get up, mesmerized by your open blazer and tight pencil skirt. The black silky fabric wraps around your abdomen, highlighting the bump that’s been growing steadily over the past three months. Shamelessly, he admits that the pencil skirts look even better when you’re pregnant. He’s immediately reminded why he seldom visits your office anymore. He gets terribly distracted, it’s why he tries so hard to work himself to the last second until Dosan drags him over kicking and screaming. 

You grab your cup of tea out of your mini microwave, chamomile because it has a low caffeine content. The soothing scent relaxes you slightly, and you brush past Jungkook’s shoulder as you sit on your guest couch. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, rubbing your brow, “I know our schedules run differently. I’m just feeling so frustrated nowadays. My temper’s short and I can’t read for more than ten minutes at a time, and I feel so ugly and bloated—” 

“Hey, none of that,” Jungkook dips down to meet you at the couch, his hands immediately searching for the warm bump that holds the result of  your precious coupling. “You are so beautiful. You’re carrying our child, you’re so strong and I’m so proud of you,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, dragging his lips along your jawline, “I’m going to take a paternity leave.” 

The pregnancy was a surprise to both of you. Admittedly, it shouldn’t have been that surprising when you got the news from your gynecologist. You had been fucking like bunnies after you closed a particular deal with an up and coming author, simultaneously celebrating and getting out frustration over the course of multiple weekends. Jungkook was thrilled by the news, but equally nervous knowing that both of you are still riding off the peak of your careers.  

You immediately stiffen in his hold, and Jungkook dips his finger under your blouse to rub soothing circles on your bare belly. “Are you crazy?” you whisper, “how can both of us be out of commission at the same time?” 

“We have Taehyung and Karen,” and you soften, thinking how so many years ago Jungkook would cling to his work like a lifeline. How you felt obligated to string along with him as his bustling assistant. Knowing that Jungkook feels more comfortable putting his work in other’s hands and asking for help, it warms you. Now, it seems like his new lifeline is right in front of him. “All that matters right now is you, me, and our little honeydew.” 

“Honeydew,” you repeat, placing a hand over where Jungkook is caressing your stomach, “this little honeydew is going to turn in a watermelon pretty soon.” 

“Mm,” Jungkook agrees, resting his head on your shoulder, “can’t wait.

[silvanable]

Sweetest Gift : Shingen Takeda

me before writing this : ah, yes, cute fluff time for my husbando. something i would do for his birthday? baking. i would absolutely bake something for that sexy sweet-tooth fiend.

me as i was writing this : wHEN DID WE INVENT BUTTER? WAIT I CAN USE APPLESAUCE— SHIT WHAT ABOUT CHOCOLATE? I CAN SAY WE GOT THAT FROM SPAIN. WHAT’S A 16TH CENTURY OVEN LOOK LIKE?? CREAM CHEESE IS TOO MODERN I CAN’T MAKE THAT!

not to mention i had one way that this was supposed to go and instead i took 3 devours, a u-turn, and then ended up at a different destination. bUT OH WELL.

and i finished it fairly quickly and then went to edit and what do i do? add 5 more pages of my shamelessly simping my heart out haha.

ANYWAYS ENJOY THIS SHAMELESS SELF INDULGENT MESS FOR OUR BELOVED TIGER OF KAI!

↪  GUIDELINES

✒ tags : shingen x oc, fluff, shameless self insert, we got off track and it got long

✒ warnings : n/a

✒ notif crew : @oikame​

✒ word count : 4,429

Sometimes, just sometimes, she forgot how different her time and this time was. There were things that she desperately missed about the future, but could live without them. That is until it turned out she really needed them… Particularly butter, chocolate, and an electric oven. All the things the petite girl had grown up with and taken for granted until now.

At least she had planned for this early— having that meticulous but mostly anxious drive to prepare for things long before necessary. She was able to gather all her ingredients and learn the necessary skills for the surprise she wanted to bake.

It also helped to have friends in high places though.

If it was not for Masamune and Nobunaga mostly, and a lot of help from everyone else, it might have been impossible. Luckily she had the best time-traveling ninja on her side, as well as the support of all those at Kasuyagama. It was between her and Sasuke’s uncanny knowledge of ingredients and historical markers together, as well as Nobunaga’s influence over foreign trades, that everything fell into place.

Now it was a matter of keeping it all secret. Shingen, after all, was eerily on par with Mistuhide’s tactical and informational gathering abilities. Lying outright was a definite no but without extreme care, he would find out.

Dancing around the topic was not as hard as she expected, then again being evasive or vague on certain things was almost second nature. After all, when one had four other siblings of varying ages, you had to be quick, not-quite-truthful, and convincing when it came to getting or staying out of trouble.

Any time the subject would get too close to becoming an interrogation, she would always change the subject to what Shingen wanted for his birthday. Of course, each time she was answered with another smooth but cheesy line, how he only wanted to spend the day with her. It was a heartwarming thing but she wanted to do more for him, something more than her words or the little bits of artistry she would leave for him to show her affections.

There were a number of things within her arsenal of creativity that she could do but after their trip to the future, she had kept a particular idea close.

Shingen had taken an affinity to the vast array of sweets from the future. Whether he realized it or not, she had been carefully taking notes on what he enjoyed the most. Of course, with the limitation of certain ingredients not being invented or hard to come by in 16th Japan, improvisation was necessary.

Now it only came down to what she was going to make, which at this rate seemed to be every available confection that could come to mind. 

At current, it was truffles, applesauce which was a necessary substitute, and a sinfully hopefully delicious applesauce cake from her Oma’s recipe she could barely remember. At this rate, she might continue her baking spiral and attempt the first edible glitter in the world.

When night came around, the petite girl had rushed off and excused herself to go ‘work’ to finish before tomorrow morning. That was true in part, except that work involved fighting with sugar in the kitchen.

It was probably not the best time to bake but the quiet stillness of the night was an ally. Many people by now would have retired to rest, so it made it easy to move around and do what she needed. Granted, the darkness that stretched over the land also extended into the room the girl needed. Nothing a few quaint candles could not fix nor a nice, warming, bright fire that illuminated all necessary things.

Besides the occasional hum, she was alone with herself and the night. It was far too cold now, being practically December, so there were no nightly sounds from any nocturnal companions. At most, the noises that could be heard were uncontained swears, the crunching of chocolate under a knife, and the occasional hollow ring when she stirred the mixture a little too aggressively.

“I will never call Nobunaga an insufferable asshat behind his back again,” She murmured to herself in the kitchen, “And I will forever worship Masamune’s kitchen skills, he makes it look so easy.” She paused on mixing her ingredients to brush fallen strands of her brown and pink hair from her face, the stubborn few that refused to stay up like she wanted.

She reached off to the side, her hand fumbled across the surface for the sugar. When her fingers reached the edge of the container, she rather haphazardly, pulled it over towards her. A mess she nearly caused when she underestimated the weight and almost sent sugar to dust the floors.

“Oh shit!” Luck would have it no one was around to hear such an unladylike swear to leave her. Equally lucky, she managed to balance the sugar into her arm before she dropped it.

By agreement, Kenshin and Yoshimoto were supposed to distract Shingen for the evening. Sasuke and Yukimura were busy setting things up for the celebration. And she, well she was baking in the growing darkness praying to whatever deity was listening that Shingen would not come looking for her. After all, she had told him she would be busy working and would be done very late because she wanted to spend his birthday with him.

That still did not stop her from stilling every time there was an ominous creak or peculiarly loud howl of the wind. She would pause with a tilt of her head towards the cracked door to listen for the approach of footsteps. Either able to dismiss them being nothing or that the speed and weight of the footfall were not Shingen’s and she would continue.

There were soft voices in the distance this time but too far for her to make out clearly. She shrugged and returned to her mixture. If anything, it would likely be one of the guards who found her in here when they came for a late night snack. She had run into plenty of them like that because they all seemed to have the same thought… which was just their stomach demanding food late in the night.

The bowl was put down with a thud and she turned. Her ingredients all assorted on the counter, just out of reach, with a few measuring tools lying around.

Most of which were left from the evening when she had attempted to make applesauce. It had been a mess, mostly because the help she employed was intent on making a mess rather than cooking. Who was she kidding, she threw the first fistful of sugar. Really she had asked Yukimura and Sasuke for help because it would have taken too long to peel and mash all the apples. That and the fact she hated the texture and taste of applesauce was another big thing, so she needed special guinea pigs to taste test for her before she accidentally poisoned a cake or two.

When the monstrous experiment of a cake was nestled into the oven to cook and the truffles were set aside, it was fairly late into the night.

With a sigh, the petite girl stepped out from the kitchen, and into the cool winter air outside. Brown eyes flitted across the glowing garden, covered in a light layer of powdery snow from the earlier flurry. Her fingers deftly tugged at the collar of her kimono, loosening it and revealing further skin to be greeted by the cold air.

It was a wonder to her how anyone survived before having air conditioning or heaters. Then again, she would not complain after spending so long in a room with a roaring fire. The cold was something she would greet openly but not too much, seeing as she could not get sick until after tomorrow. Still… The snow was tempting to just dive into to cool down.

She took a seat on the edge of the raised walkway, lifting her eyes up to the sky. Stars danced and twinkled, seemingly waving down at her, as clouds lazily breezed across the open sky. The half moon greeted her once again for the night, except this time further in the west, as it descended into the horizon.

That was a sign to how late it was, how low the celestial sphere dipped to signal that sunrise was not far behind its farewell.

The nice was pleasant though. The chill in the air was refreshing and shooed away any sleepiness that had threatened her in the kitchen, enveloped by the warmth of the fire she worked with.

Besides, she could sleep later. There were no rules against a nap in the morning or afternoon before the banquet Kenshin and the others had set up to celebrate Shingen’s birthday. Not sleeping was not entirely uncommon for her either. Staying up late into the night, or dare she say morning, was an old habit that was not entirely her fault. Besides, it was for an important reason she was up right now and she had to use all the time she had to finish her surprise for… well, the man who had stolen her heart completely.

Granted right now, having a break made her realize how much she would have loved to curl into his arms and snuggle against his warm chest. Steal the warmth he radiated to battle the cold she allowed to crawl over her skin.

Her head nodded down, eyes drifted close at the pleasing fantasy. Her body leaned forward and her bare feet caressed over the snow. She jumped up with a start at the sudden damp, frigidness against her skin.

A laugh erupted from her lips as she rubbed her eyes. “Okay, break time is over!” She stretched the wariness out of her bones, not daring to give in to the desire to just hibernate through the pleasant winter season, “Back to the finishing touches!” She turned on her heel, entering the kitchen once more to check on her confections.

Light began to peek over the horizon. Stars began to fade as the deep sapphire of the sky began to fade and instead bled into luxurious shades of red, orange, and pink.

The girl was quiet as she snuck through the halls, careful where she placed her feet as to not make a sound. Luckily she had memorized which boards would creak and groan under her weight after sneaking around at night so often. She made a point to avoid the creaky betrayers, especially as she began to near her and Shingen’s shared room.

A tray in one hand, she slid open the shoji door, almost painfully slow as to not abruptly wake the sleeping figure in the room with any sound.

Teeth sank into her pink bottom lip, quieting the giggle that threatened to escape her as she crept into the room. She knelt beside the futon, the dark material of her kimono pulled aside as she sat on her knees.

The tray, decorated with the special sweets, tea, and fruit was placed safely to the side.

Brown eyes fell to Shingen’s face, admiring the soft way his lips parted and how his chest rose and fell with each deep breath.

He looked so peaceful and calm, she almost did not want to wake him.

A soft smile found its way onto her lips. A tan hand delicately touched over his forehead and brushed the strands of auburn locks from his handsome features. Her loving gaze trailed over his features, following an invisible line over his lips to his jaw, down his neck, and to the exposed skin of his chest that peeked through his sleeping kimono.

The trace of a scar, even in the dimness of the room, could be seen in contrast over the skin of his chest. Unlike all the other scars his battle-worn body bore, this one was the one she was most grateful for, because it had scared her the most. Yet now it meant only one thing to her, that this beautiful and infuriatingly charming man was alive and breathing still, so she could love and adore him for many more years.

She was overwhelmed by happiness, a spark that ignited in her chest and spread from her heart to her fingers and toes. Surely she was dreaming, to have someone as wonderful as him, and to have such a chance to celebrate his life with him.

Slowly, she bowed her head. Soft lips pressed gently against the side of his temple. Warm eyes fluttered closed as her lips lingered. A small, loving smile graced her lips as she barely pulled away.

“Hey, it’s time to wake up, birthday boy,” She whispered against his skin.

Her grin stretched further over her lips as he let out a low, groggy groan. Then she was greeted by his delightfully smoky eyes. The wariness in them faded the moment those silver hues met her dark ones, brought to life with a light that she wished she could bask in forever.

“I will never tire of waking up to see my goddess’s shining smile,” His voice was rough and deep from sleep. How she adored the way in made her heart leap in her chest, eager to listen and hear more of anything he said, so long as it was towards her.

If possible, she smiled wider and stroked his hair gently. “Good morning to you too.”

The smile Shingen gave her caused a giddy feeling to take her over, a mixture of her eagerness and happiness. She should have been ashamed at how easily he made her feel like a little schoolgirl but she could hardly care with how loving that smile was.

She dipped her head again, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. A fleeting touch she almost rescinded to indulge in him deeper, but she had to behave herself.

“C’mon, sit up now, I want to give you something.” Her petite form shuffled back a bit.

“Oh, something for me?” It was unfair how sinful and tempting his voice was as he shifted up onto his arm to watch her.

The edge of the blanket slid down, further revealing a frame hidden only by a thin layer of cotton. Her eyes raked down the outline of his figure. The lazy, satisfied smirk he offered her shook her back to her senses, somewhat at least. She tore her gaze away.

It was a lot warmer suddenly. How strange.

He caught her cheek with his free hand, gently denying her escape, and forced her gaze back to him. The sultry look, focused solely on her, was enough for her to let out a breath— one she had not realized she was holding. The smoldering heat, she knew now, was what radiated off him and the sinful way his eyes glazed over her features.

 He guided her back down, joining their lips once again. The kiss, unlike before, was far deeper. His lips moved against hers in sensual skillfulness, drawing her further into him. Her hands pressed against his jaw to cup his face. The cool digits trace slowly over his skin as she drowned into him, savouring him.

It was only the need to breathe that caused them to part. Her faced flushed as her chest rose and lungs greedily sucked in air. Their gazes remained fix on each other, Shingen seemingly satisfied with how out of breath he left her. A callous thumb brushed over her lips gently.

“I do hope it’s you.” His hand lowered from her face, following the curve of her shoulder and down her arm until her hand rested in his.

A giggle escaped her as she moved to her knees, reluctantly allowing her fingers to slip from his, as she crawled away to grab the tray she had brought in.

“Well now you’ve spoiled tonight’s present,” She teased, allowing her fingers to curl into his palm, taking in his warmth.

“And what sort of sweetness would you offer otherwise?”

Her heart jumped, his choice of words seemingly all too specific. But surely she was overthinking it, right?

“I wonder what it might be.” The teasing tone and look he cast her made her flush.

How unfair he was, being so astute and observation. Her midnight snacking sampling of the truffles might have been a bad idea but she had been hungry. There was no doubt she had traces of that confection on her lips.

“You’re awful, it was a surprise!” She playful stuck her tongue at him as she shuffled away, “And I was doing so good too!” She returned to his side, “But despite that—” She presented the tray lavished with a surplus of sweets, “—I made you these.”

The way Shingen’s face had lit up with surprise and awe stole her breath. He was truly unfair to be able to make her heart beat like it did and to make her chest swell with giddy excitement.

 Grey eyes flickered up to meet her eyes. Suddenly she felt rather shy under the loving and admirable gaze. The attention and emotions fixed so intently on her made her squeamish. She fidgeted in place, tearing her dark eyes away as she sank into embarrassment, as her face flushed.

“I know it’s not huge but I know how much you loved the sweets, so I wanted to make you some that I grew up around or making. Plus you liked so many of the sweets from the future and I wanted to share that with you—” Was she talking faster, or was that her imagination? “— despite not having everything exactly at our disposal. But just to show you how much I really love you and am so grateful that you’re here so I can make them for you and tell you happy birthday.”

She could still feel his gaze on her while she frantically allowed the words to fall from her mouth. Heat rose up her neck and to her cheeks, dusting the tawny color of her face dusted over with red. 

At this rate, the way he was looking at her was going to cause her to implode on herself. Perhaps a run and dive into the snow would do some good to cool her down but she was afraid it would melt if she went near it now.

As silly as it was, his loving attention was still something that flustered her and it did not help she was confessing her feelings through words— she was only good with those when they were written, not spoken.

His callous hands brushed over her own softer ones as he took the tray from her. Fingers delicately guided her chin up to meet his gaze, one that was so soothing but tempting her further.

“And surely you are a goddess— bestowing me with such a beautiful sight and lovely blessings when I should be giving offers to you.” His lips pressed feather-light kisses from her ear to the corner of her mouth.

“Shingen!”

She let out a girlish squeal she was not proud of as his lips stole her own.

“It’s your birthday and—mph!—I’m trying to pour my heart out here!” She tried to pull away from his lips, only finding herself distracted with each time she tried to speak. She could not escape though, not unless he wanted her to, and she could not resist the flurry of affections pressed against her lips again and again to silence her protests.

When she did manage to push away, laughter bubbled from her lips, and she was met with a charming smile. How effortlessly he could make her flustered and steal it away with a touch or a kiss. She both hated and loved him for it.

“And you’re doing a wonderful job.” Fingers brushed through her unusually colored hair and lingered to twirl the pink ends around them.

“I’ll just write it in a letter, that’ll be easier than and you would have to listen to me stumble so ungracefully through it.” She covered her face with a nervous laugh.

Shingen pulled her hands away, laying gentle kisses over her knuckles as he grinned. “No, continue, I quite enjoy how cutely flustered you’re getting.” Of course, he would find her stumbling endearing. What a lovable jerk.

She huffed, trying to hide a smile, and pointed to the tray. “Stop teasing and try them!” Her order was more of a childish demand, “I slaved literally all night and you don’t even know what it took to get half of these ingredients!” It might have started out as a scolding but before she had finished, her words were broken by laughter.

“Oh, so this is that ‘very important’ work you had?” Shingen mused, a twinkle in his eyes, “And that trip to Azuchi?”

She did not have to answer, he already knew, that look said he always knew.

“You’re so unfair! I tried so hard to keep it a secret and be subtle!” She whined, “How did you know?”

“Well,” Shingen said carefully as he picked up one of the truffles, “I do now, especially after such a sweet kiss from your lips,” He offered her a smirk, “And Yuki rushed me away from the kitchen last night saying you were busy when I went looking to pull you to bed.” His amused gaze flickered from her to the confection between his fingers.

So much for subtly. She was definitely going to throw her sandals at Yukimura later for that.

Shingen popped the sweet into his mouth, allowing the sweet chocolaty flavor to coat over his tongue as it practically melted in his mouth. A satisfied hum filled the air as he reached for another one of the delightful chocolate bites.

All while the girl wiggled eagerly in her seat, an unspoken question reflected on her face.

“Delicious,” He purred the praise praised.

She sighed in relief. There should not have been anything to worried about to begin with, seeing as it was not hard to please a man who would eat anything so long as it involved sugar. But there was always that underlying anxiousness to whatever she did for him and she had worked so hard, so she only wanted it to be perfect.

A truffled was pressed to her lips, the man responsible smiling sweetly at her.

“Open,” The order was obeyed almost immediately, allowing the tasty morsel to melt into sweetness her mouth.

“It was worth all the trouble,” She mumbled from behind her hand with a smile.

It was not long before the tea and confections had been finished off, leaving the tray empty. Something she took great pride in.

She moved to grab the tray but was stopped by a hand on her wrist. In the next moment, she was pulled into a warm, comforting embrace. There was no protest from her, she only nestled into his chest and wrapped her arms around him in return.

“This was a lovely way to wake up,” Shingen hummed, his voice rumbling through his chest. Her eyes closed to listen to his heart and the soft rumble of his voice, a smile on her lips.

“I’m glad. And there’s plenty left in the kitchen. Just don’t tell Yuki I let you have some already.” She giggled against him.

“Of course not,” Shingen replied, laughter in his voice.

Now with the petite girl trapped in his arms, he fell back into the futon, which had began to cool with the absence of their warm presences.

“Wait—!” She made to protest but he shushed her immediately, lips finding her own to steal whatever complaints or excuse might befall those lips next.

Clearly kissing her into submission was his only choice. So when she broke away from the kiss, his lips immediately sought hers again, pulling her further into his warmth and inviting her to melt into him.

“I’m afraid I’m still quite tired,” The playfulness in his tone suggested otherwise, “And my darling goddess has worked all throughout the night without rest.”

She rolled her eyes. “If this is a guilt trip it won’t work. Nothing you can say will get me to stay. I’ve got more to set up for today still.”

“Oh, but it’s my birthday is it not? I can request you stay here with me and rest a little while longer. You would not deny me of my wishes on my special day, would you?” Even his pout was sensual and charming.

Brown eyes met grey ones as she looked up at him. Her glare was far too cute to be threatening and it spoke volumes to him. Apparently, he was playing the right angle and they knew it would work against her. She would never be so cruel as to deny him.

“It will be your fault if I don’t wake up for the party then—” Her eyes widened and she gave him a wary glance, “—you knew about that already too, right?”

He laughed. The sound filled the room with warmth, despite the cold outside, and vibrated through his chest, enveloping her as she hugged him.

“I did,” He replied, “So will you stay, my darling goddess?”

How could she resist such a sweet request and that roguishly charming smile?

She hid her face in his chest, “You’re so mean.” He was anything but mean, but she had a right to whine against his charm.

Fingers laced in her hair, rubbing soothing circles through the curiously colored locks. “You need your rest, I can’t have you drifting to sleep during the banquet—” A pair of brown eyes peeked up at him, “—Or tonight when I’ll indulge in the rest of my gift.” And promptly those eyes disappeared again.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest, he could feel the heat radiate from her skin. How cute she was.

She pinched his arm in response.

“Be quiet, I’m trying to sleep,” She scolded, the embarrassed tone only barely muffled by his kimono.

“Of course, you will need it…” He paused as she settled against him, “Because you won’t be resting tonight.” His provocative tone left nothing to her imagination, he knew.

“SHINGEN!” She slapped his arm gently, face flushed red as she glared at him. That glare was anything but meaningful, he knew, because those murky, night eyes betrayed how eager she was for night to fall.

Besides, he truly wanted was her.

She was the sweetest gift after all.

[alas-poor-cesario]

Shamelessly stolen from that one post going around, but: if you could put the f-bomb anywhere in the Lord of the Rings movies, where would you put it?

Okay. I had this discussion with a friend when we had a lotr marathon.

I really want Elrond to say fuck at some point - "You are the fucking fellowship of the ring"

Alternatively - "potatoes. Boil em mash em stick em in a fucking stew" would be such a good line to come out of nowhere and be said by the sweetest character there is.

[shy-violet-soul]

Caught Red (or White) Handed

Title:  Caught Red (or White) Handed Characters: Sam, Dean Summary: Someone thinks they’re very sneaky with their thievery.  But the evidence is un-donut-able… Warnings: powdered sugar fluff Word count: 600-ish

A/N:  I saw a meme from another fandom with this, and it made me laugh.  Got me wondering how this would go down with our favorite Winchester brothers.  This drabble is unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine.

A/N 2: Here’s another one that was mysteriously eaten by Tumblr.

Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester are characters created/owned by the CW.  This is a work of fiction by me, and is not to be printed elsewhere without my written permission.  Thank you for reblogging, not reposting!

************************************

Sam Winchester loved healthy food.

Dean frequently proclaimed him a freak of nature, that it was unnatural how much green stuff he ate.  But Sam genuinely enjoyed healthy food.  A baby spinach salad lightly dressed with a nice vinaigrette, some grilled chicken, Greek olives, and feta - yum.  He’d had a portobello mushroom Wellington with a side of buttery mashed cauliflower once that he still had good dreams about.  His favorite go-to snack?  Good ol’ Red Delicious apple.  Dean had sniggered when he’d started buying lunchbox packs of mini peanut butter to add some flavor and protein, but he didn’t care.  His brother shoveling in the beef jerky and Bugles meant Sam didn’t have to share the good stuff.  Give him sulfate and saturated fat freedom any day!

But sometimes a guy just needed some heavily processed sugar.  Guilt free, cholesterol-laden junk that he shamelessly enjoyed without a thought to any brotherly judgement.

The fact that he was hiding in the archive room, wedged in a shadowed corner of a bookshelf with his junk food, was irrelevant.  The fact that the junk food was stolen wasn’t.

The door to the room creaked open, and Sam’s throat seized up around the contraband crumbs he inhaled in his surprise.  

“Sammy?” came the query, bootfalls entering the room, and Sam shoved the cellophane package behind the trashcan he’d been perched on.  Seizing the book closest to him, Sam shouldered some nonchalance into his stance as he stepped into his brother’s view.

“Hey, Dean.  What’s up?”  Dean stared at him with a curiously expressionless face.  Half-chewed crumbs and dissolving sugar coated his throat, and Sam chanced a quick blink to push back the choke-induced water from his eyes.  Dean slowly strode towards him, coming close enough to crane his head to read from the open book Sam held.  Heat crawled up Sam’s neck when Dean calmly picked up the book and flipped it right-side up for him vs. the upside down that, apparently, hadn’t fooled him.  

“Reading up on the lore?”

“Yeah. Sure.  Uh, just keeping on with the reading.  Yep.”

Dean nodded, pursing his lips agreeably as he turned to study a row of boxes at his shoulder.

“Hey, Sammy?”

Swallowing hard, Sam tried to move the burn and slide of the bite stuck in his throat, striving for a casual air as he stared down at the page.  “Yeah?”

“You haven’t seen my mini powdered donuts, have you?”

The face Sam turned to his brother was a marvel of surprise and scorn.  “Your donuts?  No.”

Dean merely nodded, pulling a lid off a box and rifling through its contents as the silence between them grew.  Surreptitiously, Sam studied his brother, his shoulders relaxing a bit as a crease appeared between Dean’s brows that spoke of deep concentration.  Carefully, Sam seated himself in a chair, clearing his throat free of the last clump sticking there.  The quiet was broken only by the rustle of paper here and there…

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“What’s that white stuff all over your face and shirt?”

Sam’s face swiveled to look at Dean, his tongue darting out to catch the sugary evidence he didn’t realize outed him.  When Dean smirked, that infuriating smirk that Sam had spent years seething under, Sam slapped the most self-righteous, innocent look on his face he could muster as he gathered himself up to full height.

“That’s cocaine, Dean.  I don’t want to talk about it.”  And he took off for his room, dragging his nutritional dignity behind him, sagging beneath the laughter that followed him.

“You owe me a pack of donuts, Jack LaLanne!”

[hipchub]

hi pls write a drabble abt harry and louis are in highschool and theyre boyfriends and beau is harry's lil sister and louis is so intimated by her glares that's why louis doesn't often go to harry's home and cue in beau liking louis after they did a food fight in anne's kitchen (this is based on bunboyfriend's (?) post and I want u to write it bc ur the love of my life)

this is so adorable and i probably can’t do it justice but i tried

based off of this post

“your tie looks like shit.” louis startled and turned around, groaning loudly in annoyance when he found his sister, lottie, slouched against his door frame, eyeing him. 

“i’m aware of that, thanks,” he snapped in agitation, twisting around to once again face his full-body mirror and fumble with the stiff fabric hugging his black-collared neck. he heard a shuffle behind him and watched mutely through the glass as lottie sauntered into the room and threw herself onto his unmade bed. 

“i don’t get why you’re so nervous. haven’t you two been dating for like… ever?” she asked, tilting her head, cocking an eyebrow, and resting her cheek on her fist. 

“we haven’t been dating ‘for like ever’,” louis said, huffing and pushing the tail of the tie over the poorly-made knot. “we’ve only been dating for two months and twenty-four days,” he paused while lottie groaned, “and i happen to be meeting his family—his whole family—tonight over dinner.” 

“so what? you’ve known him and his family for months, louis. it’s not like it’s that big of a deal.” she laid back on the mattress and strewn clothing, and stared up at the grease and ryan gosling posters shamelessly pinned to the ceiling. 

“occasionally saying ‘hi’ to his mum after spending most the night in his room is not the same as meeting his family,” louis said irritably. after failing for the tenth time to properly tie his tie, he groaned and yanked it from his neck. “if all you’re gonna do is judge me, then get out of my room,” he said angrily, glaring at her while he fixed the leafs of his collar. 

lottie stared blankly at him before pushing herself from the bed and walking out of the room. after his door shut, louis, through the wood, could hear her yell, “mum, louis kicked me out of his room because he’s too whipped for his stupid boyfriend to talk to me!”

an hour later, louis was stood in front of the styles’ door with a bouquet of red roses and an expensive bottle of chardonnay. he nervously threaded his fingers through his quaffed hair again despite his mother’s previous protests (“it looks lovely,” jay said after louis’ countless attempts to fix his hair, smiling fondly and gently straightening up louis’ collar. “you look lovely, boobear”). the cold breeze and onpouring snow made the eighteen-year-old shiver, and his nerves nearly convinced him to leave with the excuse of a cold he’d caught due of the awful, wintery weather. 

before he could second-guess himself again, the door was swinging open, warm air was pouring out and engulfing his frigid frame, and harry’s mum, a beautiful woman wearing a very festive apron, was standing in the doorway with a wide, welcoming smile etched on her face. “louis! come in, come in,” she said, opening the door wider and allowing him to step in. 

“hi, miss twist,” louis greeted sheepishly, shuffling inside and standing semi-awkwardly with his gifts in hand. 

“please, call me anne.” she smiled and kindly took his jacket, hanging it on the familiar coat stand beside the door. 

“um, this,” he stuck out the bottle of wine, “is for you…” 

anne graciously took the bottle and read the label. “thank you so much, louis.” before she could question him about the commute over in the subdue snow blizzard, however, harry began making his way down the stairs, calling out a rhetorical, “is he here?” a short moment later, harry’s fuzzysock-clad feet met the last step and his gaze met his finely-dressed boyfriend’s. 

stunning would be an understatement, louis thought when his eyes landed on harry, his gorgeous, utterly gorgeous boyfriend. “h,” he whispered in an almost inaudible greeting, breath quite literally stolen from him by the genuine reincarnation of aphrodite standing a few feet before him. “these, uh—these are for you,” louis said in a stammer, thrusting the bouquet forward and nervously tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. 

harry’s eyes widened and lit up, and, louis swears, not even the stars could compare. his shy smile was beautiful (as always), lips red-bitten and hands cautious as he took the bouquet and brought it to his nose, smelling the roses like some duchess in one of the many rom-coms harry’s had him watch. christ, louis was gone for him. 

“thank you,” harry said in awe, making no move to say anything else.

anne, seeing as the two could and would easily just continue to stare at each other for the rest of the night, cut in, throwing a smirk to harry’s older sister, gemma, at the dining table. “how about i put these in water for you, and you two can take a seat at the dinner table?” with gentle hands, she removed the flowers from harry’s grip and left towards the kitchen without receiving a reply. 

after a moment, louis shuffled forward and grabbed harry’s hand, taking a second to admire the nude nail polish, and smiled down at the boy. “you look lovely,” he whispered softly, eyeing the light purple knit sweater and black jeans. “made of lightening.” 

a pink dusting painted harry’s cheeks and he pushed at louis’ chest, hiding his blush behind his fist and his movement towards the table. “shut up,” he said, glancing back at the older boy and sitting opposite of his elder sister.

sitting down at the table across from harry’s younger sister, beau, the nerves flooded louis’ mind and body again, accompanied by a bouncing leg, clammy palms, and butterflies in his tummy. he would hate to ever admit that an innocent, little girl was the main cause for his anxiousness, but she was. 

the little curly-haired brunette was why harry and louis’ hangouts were usually at louis’ rather than harry’s, and, if they went to harry’s, the reason why it was usually later at night rather than in the evening when beau was awake. harry tried to get louis to admit to his fears after louis hastily shot down the idea of babysitting beau with harry one night, but louis flat-out refused. it wasn’t his fault beau’s glares and crossed arms intimidated him. harry tried to tell him it was beau’s way of protecting her big brother, and that she was actually a real sweetheart, but louis couldn’t stand the thought of harry’s family members hating him, hence the nerves. 

currently, as predicted, beau was making a foul face at louis, making him frown and shift his gaze to the generously-sized breadbasket before him. when harry’s hand landed on his denim-clad thigh, louis decided to make an effort to not let beau’s looks bother him, and just accept that she was only trying to protect her best friend (well, ‘best friend’ according to harry. apparently she was quite fond of a girl called naomi, but that’s none of louis’ business). 

when anne came back to the table moments later, she was accompanied by a large array of food as well as gemma, who’d preciously excused herself from an interesting conversation about her university in order to help her mum. harry and louis helped, too, laying the plates out onto the table while anne opened the bottle of chardonnay for her and gemma to enjoy. 

dishing out the food lasted about five minutes because of how much there was. louis’ plate resembled a rochester garbage plate; cornbread, chicken, bread, mashed potatoes, and macaroni lay on top of one another in a heap of butter, calories, and heaven. harry’s plate, as well as the rest of the family’s, mimicked his, and louis was honestly salivating; he couldn’t wait to dig in and experience the kind of stuffed that only usually happened on christmas day.

an hour and a half later, plates cleared off, room full of uplifted chatter between louis and harry’s family, and harry’s hand openly wrapped in louis’, louis’ nerves were gone. after the obvious shift in his mood whenever meeting beau’s scornful and pouty gaze (either that or the fact louis let her have the last bread roll), beau eased up a bit on her silent punishment for him. 

“well, i say we take this to the living room and have dessert?” anne suggested, starting to stand up and clear off the absolute clutter of dishes. 

being the oldest in a primarily female household and having been used to helping his mum out, louis was quick to his feet. “no, no, miss twist,” louis said, not missing the small protest of, “it’s anne,” from her. “let us take care of it.” 

upon their own request, harry and louis stacked and brought all the utensils, plates, and bowls into the kitchen (careful not to drop anything) and set up a system of washing (harry) and drying (louis) while gemma, anne, and beau situated themselves in the living room and looked for a family-friendly movie to watch. 

“so, that wasn’t too bad, hm?” harry asked with a cheeky smirk dancing on his lips after a few minutes of quietness.

“no, it wasn’t…” louis said, trailing off as he ran a towel over the inside of what was the mashed potatoes bowl. “it wasn’t bad at all. you were right, as usual.” 

“’as usual’,” harry repeated. 

“as usual,” louis said, looking at harry and smiling. “as usual you were right. as usual you look absolutely handsome. as usual i want to kiss you.” 

harry giggled and rolled his eyes, shutting off the water and placing the last plate in the dishrack. “what would i ever do without you, romeo?” harry said teasingly. 

“well, for one, you’d have to dry all these dishes by yourself,” louis said. harry laughed loudly and quickly kissed louis’ cheek (when louis tapped his lips, harry responded, “not in front of the children,” despite them being alone) before heading towards the living room. “get the dessert, please and thank you!” 

louis laughed and watched warmheartedly as harry walked from the room to join his family. he finished drying the dishes in a few minutes’ time, stacking them all beside the sink rack because the cabinets were foreign and he didn’t want to intrude, and neatly folding the towels back. he was carrying the dessert, a plate of skillfully blue frosted cupcakes, into the living room when beau barged into the kitchen and bumped into louis, causing him to drop almost half of the cupcakes (mainly onto her). 

louis stood, jaw dropped open in shock. “oh, my god,” he whispered, staring at beau’s frosting-covered cheeks and silk pajamas, and seeing his life flash before his eyes. “i am—i am so, so sorry, beau,” louis tried to apologize, turning to grab the roll of paper towel of its dispenser. except, louis hadn’t even been able reach the paper towel before he felt something small, dense, and wet impact his back. 

having a sneaking suspicion, louis reached behind him and dipped his fingers into the blue sugary substance that now tainted the back of his shirt. he knew who the culprit was, which was why he quickly darted to the opposite end of the kitchen, plate of remaining cupcakes in hand, and crouched behind the marble island. “this means war,” he called out, gathering some frosting onto his fingertips and painting two lines under each of his eyes.

when he got no reply, louis tried to briefly loom over the countertop to get a verdict, but a green-frosted cupcake—where the hell did she get those? —came whizzing past his face, grazing him only slightly, and hit the faucet behind him. louis ducked, un-necessarily rolling across the tile before reloading his ammo and grabbing another cupcake. he poked his head out from the side of the island and blindly threw a cupcake, hoping it’d hit his desired target. if the unexpected laugh and the childish taunt of, “you suck!” was anything to go by, he horribly missed. 

louis probably shouldn’t have started a cupcake war in the kitchen of his boyfriend’s house with said boyfriend’s little sister, but he figured he’d deal with the consequences later. he grabbed three more cupcakes and shouted, “fire away!” before throwing them all consecutively, rolling from his hideaway behind the cabinets and leaving himself out in the trenches. 

beau smiled faintly and ducked all the oncoming cupcakes, pelting her own back at the teenager. louis grunted and dodged two, but was stuck with the third and fourth, frosting drenching his face. the war continued for several minutes before louis was absolutely coated in cake, a mix of blue and green frosting, and christmas-themed sprinkles. 

“it’s a bloodbath,” he said, mock-crying as he fell backwards against the now-dirtied cabinets. “beau, if i don’t-” he coughed and spluttered, making beau giggle loudly in amusement, “-make it out alive… tell harry i, i-” 

“hey lou—what the…?” harry stood in the doorway staring at the dessert-covered scene in front of him, mouth agape and eyes open wide. 

“…oops?”

[paintedboxturtle]

Types of People: D&D Classes: Hamato Michelangelo

bold what definitely applies to your muse. italicize what somewhat applies to your muse.

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽   »   toothy  grins,  stories  around  the  campfire,  clothes  covered  in  pet  hair, hot  temper,  old  jeans, heartbeat  in  head,  potatoes  and  steak,  beaded  jewelry, bruises  like  galaxies,  mementos, backpack  stuffed  full,  craigslist  furniture, spontaneous  road  trips, air  ripped  from  lungs

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳   »   homemade  bread, white  lies, easily  excited,  trying  on  hats,  band  geek, pep  talks,  no impulse  control,  sunsets,  vintage  fashion,  long  showers,  selfies, following  dreams, rosy  cheeks,  song  mash-ups,  pink  lemonade  with  tequila,  loves  easily, animated  storyteller, full  of  comebacks

𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲   »   list  of  wishes,  biting  their  tongue, band-aids  and  neosporin, shoulder  to  cry  on,  morning  sun, necklaces, trial  and  error,  homemade  quilts, formal  clothing,  astrology  fan,  messages  in  bottles,  pleated  braids, speaking  up  for  friends, feathers, motivational  quotes, vivid  dreams

𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳   »   bird  watching, shy  kid,  wind  chimes, trying  to  whistle,  summer  camp, apple  orchards, lost  in  their  head,  glow-in-the-dark  stars  on  the  ceiling,  hoodies, thrift  shopping,  saving  worms  off  the  sidewalk, pig  latin, bare  feet, thunderstorms, numb  fingers,  braided  hair, naming  potted  plants

𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁   »   goosebumps, leather  jackets,  adventure,  chewing  nails,  cares  deeply  but  can’t  show  it, bronze  locks, no  sleep, taste  of  iron,  netflix  binges,  never  forgets, combat  boots,  stories  behind  scars,  table  for  one,  official  soundtracks,  sore  calves, trusts  themselves  the  most

𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺   » always  trying  to  be  better, wanderlust,  meditation,  sweat  pants, old   photographs,  yoga, sleeping  in  hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist  design,  a breath  of  fresh  air, baby  animals,  volunteering, perfectionist, doesn’t  care  about  fashion,  healthy  snacks,  noticing  the  little  things

𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽   »   school  uniforms, thick  jackets, sleeping  with  the  windows open, logical  advice,  scrapbooking,  compasses, i  fight  for  my  friends,  sculpture  gardens, cold  morning  air,  big  soul, likes  routine, secret  romantic, last  to  get jokes, sunflowers,  practical  presents,  misty  weather

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁   »   herbal  tea, smell  of  rain,  blinking  away  tears, camping  trips, collecting  bones,  swiss  army  knives,  first  impressions, anxious  thoughts,  bobby  pins,  burnt  marshmallows,  too  competitive,  clothes  lines,  messenger  bags, holding  grudges,  gets  along  better  with  animals  than  people

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴   »   flirtatious  sarcasm,  candid  photos, lost  phone chargers, adrenaline  rush, picking  dirt  out  from  beneath  their  nails,  social  chameleon,  clashing  clothes,  self-deprecating  jokes,  claw  machines,  sits  in  chairs  wrong, smudged  eyeliner,  has  too  many  sunglasses,  eats  nothing  or  everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁   »   infectious  laugh, family  trees,  shivers  down  their  spine,  lipstick  and  roses,  mood  swings,  clumsy, believing  in  destiny , high  expectations, sleeping  in  darkness,  collection  of  nail  polish, passionate,  good  grades  but  never  studies,  poetry  books,  blowing  kisses,  not  knowing  their  own  strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺   »   knowing  everyone’s  secrets,  backpack  covered  in  pins, envy,  being  in  walmart  late  at  night,  earl  grey,  selective  memory,  conspiracy  theories  and  cryptids, key smashing, need  to  know  basis,  can’t  cook,  bags  under  eyes,  experimental  art,  flickering  bulbs,  black  clothing  all  year  long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳   »   piles  of  textbooks,  cat  in  lap,  keeping  a  diary, indecision, scented  candles, studying  alone  in  a  café, lingering  touches,  museum  dates, unanswered  questions, taking  on  too  much  responsibility, collections, chalk  dust,  comfy  robes,  unnecessary  apologies, coming  home  after  a  long  day

tagged by: Shamelessly stolen

[fondofspeaking]

𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 : 𝒅𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

bold what definitely applies to your muse; italicize what somewhat applies to your muse.

shamelessly stolen tagging  :  do it if you want to

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽 » toothy grins, stories around the campfire, clothes covered in pet hair, hot temper, old jeans, heartbeat in head, potatoes and steak, beaded jewelry, bruises like galaxies, mementos, backpack stuffed full, craigslist furniture, spontaneous road trips, air ripped from lungs

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳 » homemade bread, white lies, easily excited, trying on hats, band geek, pep talks, no impulse control, sunsets, vintage fashion, long showers, selfies, following dreams, rosy cheeks, song mash-ups, pink lemonade with tequila, loves easily, animated storyteller, full of comebacks

𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 » list of wishes, biting their tongue, band-aids and neosporin, shoulder to cry on, morning sun, necklaces, trial and error, homemade quilts, formal clothing, astrology fan, messages in bottles, pleated braids, speaking up for friends, feathers, motivational quotes, vivid dreams

𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳 » bird watching, shy kid, wind chimes, trying to whistle, summer camp, apple orchards, lost in their head, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hoodies, thrift shopping, saving worms off the sidewalk, pig latin, bare feet, thunderstorms, numb fingers, braided hair, naming potted plants

𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁 » goosebumps, leather jackets, adventure, chewing nails, cares deeply but can’t show it, bronze locks, no sleep, taste of iron, netflix binges, never forgets, combat boots, stories behind scars, table for one, official soundtracks, sore calves, trusts themselves the most

𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺 » always trying to be better, wanderlust, meditation, sweat pants, old photographs, yoga, sleeping in hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist design, a breath of fresh air, baby animals, volunteering, perfectionist, doesn’t care about fashion, healthy snacks, noticing the little things

𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽 » school uniforms, thick jackets, sleeping with the windows open, logical advice, scrapbooking, compasses, i fight for my friends, sculpture gardens, cold morning air, big soul, likes routine, secret romantic, last to get jokes, sunflowers, practical presents, misty weather

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 » herbal tea, smell of rain, blinking away tears, camping trips, collecting bones, swiss army knives, first impressions, anxious thoughts, bobby pins, burnt marshmallows, too competitive, clothes lines, messenger bags, holding grudges, gets along better with animals than people

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴 » flirtatious sarcasm, candid photos, lost phone chargers, adrenaline rush, picking dirt out from beneath their nails, social chameleon, clashing clothes, self-deprecating jokes, claw machines, sits in chairs wrong, smudged eyeliner, has too many sunglasses, eats nothing or everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁 » infectious laugh, family trees, shivers down their spine, lipstick and roses, mood swings, clumsy, believing in destiny, high expectations, sleeping in darkness, collection of nail polish, passionate, good grades but never studies, poetry books, blowing kisses, not knowing their own strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 » knowing everyone’s secrets, backpack covered in pins, envy, being in walmart late at night, earl grey, selective memory, conspiracy theories and cryptids, keysmashing, need to know basis, can’t cook, bags under eyes, experimental art, flickering bulbs, black clothing all year long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳 » piles of textbooks, cat in lap, keeping a diary, indecision, scented candles, studying alone in a café, lingering touches, museum dates, unanswered questions, taking on too much responsibility, collections, chalk dust, comfy robes, unnecessary apologies, coming home after a long day

[generalsprotege]

𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 : 𝒅𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

bold what definitely applies to your muse; italicize what somewhat applies to your muse.

shamelessly stolen tagging  :  do it if you want to

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽 » toothy grins, stories around the campfire, clothes covered in pet hair, hot temper, old jeans, heartbeat in head, potatoes and steak, beaded jewelry, bruises like galaxies, mementos, backpack stuffed full, craigslist furniture, spontaneous road trips, air ripped from lungs

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳 » homemade bread, white lies, easily excited, trying on hats, band geek, pep talks, no impulse control, sunsets, vintage fashion, long showers, selfies, following dreams, rosy cheeks, song mash-ups, pink lemonade with tequila, loves easily, animated storyteller, full of comebacks

𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 » list of wishes, biting their tongue, band-aids and neosporin, shoulder to cry on, morning sun, necklaces, trial and error, homemade quilts, formal clothing, astrology fan, messages in bottles, pleated braids, speaking up for friends, feathers, motivational quotes, vivid dreams

𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳 » bird watching, shy kid, wind chimes, trying to whistle, summer camp, apple orchards, lost in their head, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hoodies, thrift shopping, saving worms off the sidewalk, pig latin, bare feet, thunderstorms, numb fingers, braided hair, naming potted plants

𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁 » goosebumps, leather jackets, adventure, chewing nails, cares deeply but can’t show it, bronze locks, no sleep, taste of iron, netflix binges, never forgets, combat boots, stories behind scars, table for one, official soundtracks, sore calves, trusts themselves the most

𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺 » always trying to be better, wanderlust, meditation, sweat pants, old photographs, yoga, sleeping in hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist design, a breath of fresh air, baby animals, volunteering, perfectionist, doesn’t care about fashion, healthy snacks, noticing the little things

𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽 » school uniforms, thick jackets, sleeping with the windows open, logical advice, scrapbooking, compasses, i fight for my friends, sculpture gardens, cold morning air, big soul, likes routine, secret romantic, last to get jokes, sunflowers, practical presents, misty weather

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 » herbal tea, smell of rain, blinking away tears, camping trips, collecting bones, swiss army knives, first impressions, anxious thoughts, bobby pins, burnt marshmallows, too competitive, clothes lines, messenger bags, holding grudges, gets along better with animals than people

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴 » flirtatious sarcasm, candid photos, lost phone chargers, adrenaline rush, picking dirt out from beneath their nails, social chameleon, clashing clothes, self-deprecating jokes, claw machines, sits in chairs wrong, smudged eyeliner, has too many sunglasses, eats nothing or everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁 » infectious laugh, family trees, shivers down their spine, lipstick and roses, mood swings, clumsy, believing in destiny, high expectations, sleeping in darkness, collection of nail polish, passionate, good grades but never studies, poetry books, blowing kisses, not knowing their own strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 » knowing everyone’s secrets, backpack covered in pins, envy, being in walmart late at night, earl grey, selective memory, conspiracy theories and cryptids, keysmashing, need to know basis, can’t cook, bags under eyes, experimental art, flickering bulbs, black clothing all year long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳 » piles of textbooks, cat in lap, keeping a diary, indecision, scented candles, studying alone in a café, lingering touches, museum dates, unanswered questions, taking on too much responsibility, collections, chalk dust, comfy robes, unnecessary apologies, coming home after a long day

[aequilibriium]

𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 : 𝒅𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

bold what definitely applies to your muse; italicize what somewhat applies to your muse.

shamelessly stolen  tagging  :  do it if you want to

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽 » toothy grins, stories around the campfire, clothes covered in pet hair, hot temper, old jeans, heartbeat in head, potatoes and steak, beaded jewelry, bruises like galaxies, mementos, backpack stuffed full, craigslist furniture, spontaneous road trips, air ripped from lungs

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳 » homemade bread, white lies, easily excited, trying on hats, band geek, pep talks, no impulse control, sunsets, vintage fashion, long showers, selfies, following dreams, rosy cheeks, song mash-ups, pink lemonade with tequila, loves easily, animated storyteller, full of comebacks

𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 » list of wishes, biting their tongue, band-aids and neosporin, shoulder to cry on, morning sun, necklaces, trial and error, homemade quilts, formal clothing, astrology fan, messages in bottles, pleated braids, speaking up for friends, feathers, motivational quotes, vivid dreams

𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳 » bird watching, shy kid, wind chimes, trying to whistle, summer camp, apple orchards, lost in their head, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hoodies, thrift shopping, saving worms off the sidewalk, pig latin, bare feet, thunderstorms, numb fingers, braided hair, naming potted plants

𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁 » goosebumps, leather jackets, adventure, chewing nails, cares deeply but can’t show it, bronze locks, no sleep, taste of iron, netflix binges, never forgets, combat boots, stories behind scars, table for one, official soundtracks, sore calves, trusts themselves the most

𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺 » always trying to be better, wanderlust, meditation, sweat pants, old photographs, yoga, sleeping in hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist design, a breath of fresh air, baby animals, volunteering, perfectionist, doesn’t care about fashion, healthy snacks, noticing the little things

𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽 » school uniforms, thick jackets, sleeping with the windows open, logical advice, scrapbooking, compasses, i fight for my friends, sculpture gardens, cold morning air, big soul, likes routine, secret romantic, last to get jokes, sunflowers, practical presents, misty weather

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 » herbal tea, smell of rain, blinking away tears, camping trips, collecting bones, swiss army knives, first impressions, anxious thoughts, bobby pins, burnt marshmallows, too competitive, clothes lines, messenger bags, holding grudges, gets along better with animals than people

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴 » flirtatious sarcasm, candid photos, lost phone chargers, adrenaline rush, picking dirt out from beneath their nails, social chameleon, clashing clothes, self-deprecating jokes, claw machines, sits in chairs wrong, smudged eyeliner, has too many sunglasses, eats nothing or everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁 » infectious laugh, family trees, shivers down their spine, lipstick and roses, mood swings, clumsy, believing in destiny, high expectations, sleeping in darkness, collection of nail polish, passionate, good grades but never studies, poetry books, blowing kisses, not knowing their own strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 » knowing everyone’s secrets, backpack covered in pins, envy, being in walmart late at night, earl grey, selective memory, conspiracy theories and cryptids, keysmashing, need to know basis, can’t cook, bags under eyes, experimental art, flickering bulbs, black clothing all year long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳 » piles of textbooks, cat in lap, keeping a diary, indecision, scented candles, studying alone in a café, lingering touches, museum dates, unanswered questions, taking on too much responsibility, collections, chalk dust, comfy robes, unnecessary apologies, coming home after a long day

[shy-violet-soul]

Caught Red (or White) Handed

Title:  Caught Red (or White) Handed Characters: Sam, Dean Summary: Someone thinks they’re very sneaky with their thievery.  But the evidence is un-donut-able… Warnings: powdered sugar fluff Word count: 600-ish A/N:  I saw a meme from another fandom with this, and it made me laugh.  Got me wondering how this would go down with our favorite Winchester brothers.  This drabble is unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine.

Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester are characters created/owned by the CW.  This is a work of fiction by me, and is not to be printed elsewhere without my written permission.  Thank you for reblogging, not reposting!

Photo credit: www.fanpop.com - Kaidi and rawr_caps@lj

Sam Winchester loved healthy food.

Dean frequently proclaimed him a freak of nature, that it was unnatural how much green stuff he ate.  But Sam genuinely enjoyed healthy food.  A baby spinach salad lightly dressed with a nice vinaigrette, some grilled chicken, Greek olives, and feta - yum.  He’d had a portobello mushroom Wellington with a side of buttery mashed cauliflower once that he still had good dreams about.  His favorite go-to snack?  Good ol’ Red Delicious apple.  Dean had sniggered when he’d started buying lunchbox packs of mini peanut butter to add some flavor and protein, but he didn’t care.  His brother shoveling in the beef jerky and Bugles meant Sam didn’t have to share the good stuff.  Give him sulfate and saturated fat freedom any day!

But sometimes a guy just needed some heavily processed sugar.  Guilt free, cholesterol-laden junk that he shamelessly enjoyed without a thought to any brotherly judgement.

The fact that he was hiding in the archive room, wedged in a shadowed corner of a bookshelf with his junk food, was irrelevant.  The fact that the junk food was stolen wasn’t.

The door to the room creaked open, and Sam’s throat seized up around the contraband crumbs he inhaled in his surprise.  

“Sammy?” came the query, bootfalls entering the room, and Sam shoved the cellophane package behind the trashcan he’d been perched on.  Seizing the book closest to him, Sam shouldered some nonchalance into his stance as he stepped into his brother’s view.

“Hey, Dean.  What’s up?”  Dean stared at him with a curiously expressionless face.  Half-chewed crumbs and dissolving sugar coated his throat, and Sam chanced a quick blink to push back the choke-induced water from his eyes.  Dean slowly strode towards him, coming close enough to crane his head to read from the open book Sam held.  Heat crawled up Sam’s neck when Dean calmly picked up the book and flipped it right-side up for him vs. the upside down that, apparently, hadn’t fooled him.  

“Reading up on the lore?”

“Yeah. Sure.  Uh, just keeping on with the reading.  Yep.”

Dean nodded, pursing his lips agreeably as he turned to study a row of boxes at his shoulder.

“Hey, Sammy?”

Swallowing hard, Sam tried to move the burn and slide of the bite stuck in his throat, striving for a casual air as he stared down at the page.  “Yeah?”

“You haven’t seen my mini powdered donuts, have you?”

The face Sam turned to his brother was a marvel of surprise and scorn.  “Your donuts?  No.”

Dean merely nodded, pulling a lid off a box and rifling through its contents as the silence between them grew.  Surreptitiously, Sam studied his brother, his shoulders relaxing a bit as a crease appeared between Dean’s brows that spoke of deep concentration.  Carefully, Sam seated himself in a chair, clearing his throat free of the last clump sticking there.  The quiet was broken only by the rustle of paper here and there…

“Sammy?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“What’s that white stuff all over your face?”

Sam’s face swiveled to look at Dean, his tongue darting out to catch the sugary evidence he didn’t realize outed him.  When Dean smirked, that infuriating smirk that Sam had spent years seething under, Sam slapped the most self-righteous, innocent look on his face he could muster as he gathered himself up to full height.

“That’s cocaine, Dean.  I don’t want to talk about it.”  And he took off for his room, dragging his nutritional dignity behind him as Dean’s laughter echoed down the hall.

“You owe me a pack of donuts, Jack LaLanne!”