cake toss

Gryffindor is laughing loudly and not caring who hears you. It’s two AM truth or dare and giggling furiously. It’s complimenting someone’s hair and smiling when they smile. It’s climbing trees with your significant other. It’s standing up to your childhood bully. Gryffindor is being an adrenaline junkie who’s trying to do what’s right.

Ravenclaw is having existential crises at four AM and throwing things at each other. It’s having a small, interwoven group of friends. It’s having inside jokes that no one can understand. It’s wanting to see inside the soul of your significant other. It’s drinking tea and looking at art. Ravenclaw is being a person who expresses creativity and pours their soul into what they love.

Hufflepuff is giggling with friends in the middle of the night. It’s baking cakes and tossing flour at each other. It’s making flower crowns with your significant other. It’s the feeling you get when you compliment someone. It’s baked bread and sunshine flowing through the windows. Hufflepuff is being fiercely protective and loving until it hurts.

Slytherin is having story sessions at three AM in the morning. It’s willing to kill for the people you love. It’s looking at the stars and holding hands. It’s cuddling with your significant other and playing with their hair. It’s complimenting people and feeling your heart bloom when they smile. It’s putting up strong walls because you care so much. It’s an ambitious dream. Slytherin is being a constantly judged mastermind who loves too deeply.

I just want to point out that Lars’s cake was in the waste bin even prior to Steven’s arrival at Sour Cream’s house. It makes sense that Lars was in the area even before Steven and Sadie, because he was pretty much already finished with his potluck offering. 

And to me, this scene is really indicative of what we know about Lars. He’s really someone filled with self-loathing and self-doubt. He’ll be really gung-ho about something one moment and then back out the next.

It’s very similar to having a voice in your head always bringing up the worst-case-scenario or always reminding you the worst of things. It stops you from stepping out of your comfort zone for fear of failure.

We all have a little voice like that but it’s much louder and much harder to tune out in some people than in others. That the cake was purposely tossed in the garbage does show that he did this himself, and it wasn’t a result of getting nabbed by Aquamarine and Topaz. 

It’s easier for Lars to tear people down than to face what he doesn’t like about himself. And I think for the longest time his relationship with Steven was tinged with envy. Steven loved himself, and his self-love caused everyone to gravitate towards him and love him in turn.

I think Lars never believed Steven knew how he felt until The Good Lars. When he asks Steven, “When did you get so mature?” He means it in a way that implies, “When did you know how I felt?”

In that episode, Steven said exactly the things Lars needed to hear. And admittedly, it’s taken a while to get there. Steven has grown a lot in the series, beyond just meaning well for his friends. 

I have some more things to say on Lars and Sadie, but I’ll leave that to a Some Thoughts post in the near future.

Mullette Bridal Shop AU Headcanons

So I have this modern au in my mind where Herc and Laf own a bridal shop. 

  • Hercules designs and makes the wedding dresses/tuxes
  • Laf designs and bakes all the wedding cakes
  • They are the classiest bridal establishment in Manhattan, celebrities like George King have shopped there
  • Hercules will fight anyone who says “you probably don’t have this in my size” 
  • Laf takes his baking very seriously, and does not neglect the taste for the appearance: “It would spoil the wedding if they swooned over a pretty cake for hours then found it to be inedible once cut, non?” 
  • Hercules frequently gets Laf to model his new dresses or suits he’s designed, sometimes while he’s sewing them
  • “I’m sorry, your body just makes a perfect mannequin!”
  • “I do not know whether to be flattered or offended, mon chou” 
  • Herc usually ends up destroying the initial product in a rush to undress his bf and fuck him in his workshop tho oops
  • Alex and John tried to pull the friendship card to get their wedding stuff for free but Herc was having none of it
  • “If you think I am about to give you two assholes a $1,300 outfit out of the goodness of my heart, you are-” Herc sighed, “Probably right.”
  • Laf can frequently be heard screaming in anguish from his kitchen if he places a single chocolate button wrong 
  • “Laf, cakes are for eating. Nobody cares if it’s missing a patterned dot from the left side.”
  • “How dare you?!” 
  • Herc eats all the “reject” cakes Laf tosses out. (i.e., the cakes that are missing one chocolate button or one icing rose that bleeds too far into another) 
  • The irony of them owning a bridal shop is that they have been together for ten happy years and have never gotten around to a wedding of their own… supplying such events has given the two men an insight into the true meaning of a partnership, without all the material necessities


  • “I am gonna bake your cake so hard, babe-”
  • “Yes, yes Hercules, roll it in the oven for baby et moi, ah, zut!

anonymous asked:

Black Hat and Flug go shopping for food and Black Hat is DISGUSTED with Flug's taste

Does this work?

I call it:

Hey Black Hat, what the fuck?? 

417 words of bullshit

Flug thought back on all his choices in life. He just, really contemplated them, wondering how it was that he had reached this point. Where had he gone wrong? Was it becoming a scientist instead of a lawyer like his mom had wanted? Finally deciding to go for that doctorate? Applying to work for a demon?

Actually, no, it was pretty obviously that last one. His bad.

Now though, he stood staring as Black Hat, famous criminal, known villain, probably on several watch-lists, stood in front of his grocery cart in their local Walmart, smiling widely and holding out an entire birthday cake.

“It’s not anyone’s birthday is it?” Flug asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Black Hat replied, “but I want it. So…”

“You don’t need –  “

“Oops,” Black Hat said, tossing the cake into the cart. “Slipped right out of my hands.”

Flug sighed, and just continued forward.

This repeated several times, with various foods – from anchovies to pistachios, and even what looked like an entire leg of beef. Where did he even get that?

“Oh no, I’m not touching that,” Flug said, reeling back from it slightly and scrunching up his face as Black Hat approached from out of nowhere again, smiling widely and brandishing the hunk of raw meat.

“Okay,” Black Hat replied, shrugging, smirking and dropping it in the increasingly filling grocery cart of ridiculous groceries.

“Please tell me you at least cook – “ But Black Hat was gone again, racing down another isle like an overly excited child.

Flug was starting to wonder if he was just doing this to freak him out.

When Black Hat came back again with a cantaloupe, Flug just watched in disbelief. He sighed, not reacting, and just continued on his way. When Black Hat began to hover behind him though, he wondered if refraining from reaction was the best choice. He did it anyway though.

Finally, he reached the breakfast isle, smiling slightly as he picked out his favorite box of cereal.

“Urgh,” he heard behind him, and turned to see Black Hat making a disgusted face, sticking his long tongue out. “You don’t actually eat that filth do you?”

At that point, Flug just threw the box directly at his boss’s head and turned to leave, ignoring Black Hat’s indignant yelp and his “Wait Flug come back, I didn’t mean it. Well I did because that’s disgusting but – wait Flug please, Flug, dear, Flug,” as he marched straight out of the store.

The galley on Yavin IV is equipped with the basics for the preparation of soldiers’ rations: nutritious slop as unappetizing and unappealing as anything the cooks called “slop” could be. It has little to nothing as far as pots and pans for baking other than dented baking sheets meant for hard rolls—nothing like a cake pan. But Jyn’s never had anything she needed when she needed it, and so she does what she does best: she improvises.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Cassian says from the doorway. It’s well past midnight and he should have been asleep, but he’s not. She hadn’t told him that she would be here—she hadn’t told anyone—but he had an uncanny way of always finding her.

“I don’t,” she says, “not much. But I do bake, and,” she says lifting up a handful of dusty pink and yellow fruit, “I have these.”

“Where’d you get Bakuran cloudberries?” he asks, stepping into her personal space, curiosity making his face look younger and softer, the hard lines of war melting into his skin. She can smell him when he’s this close: earthy and clean and warm as the leather jacket on his shoulders.

“Trade secret,” she says, hoarsely. “And I have sugar, too.”

“You’re going to cause a riot,” he says softly, “if people find out you’re making cake.”

“Then it’s our secret,” she says, turning her back to him and putting the fruit on the counter. He places a hand on the small of her back, and thoughts of cake flee her mind.

“Do you want to help me?” she asks, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Or do you just want to watch?”

His brown eyes spark, and a smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Where’s my apron?”


The cake is simple: flour, sugar, powder, milk, egg, butter, and berries. Jyn sours the blue bantha milk with a teaspoon of citrus as Cassian measures out the flour and sugar and the oven warms. He watches her then mix the liquid and dry ingredients together and pour them into a heavy frying pan greased with the butter. Pressing each precious berry into the top of the batter, Jyn sprinkles it with a final coat of sugar and pops it into the oven.

“And now we wait,” she tells Cassian, leaning against the counter. She gazes at him, at the flour dusted into his neat beard, at his permanently sleepy eyes, and her heart does a leap. “Come here,” she says, crooking her finger at him. He walks over without a word and comes within six inches of her face.

“You’re covered in flour,” she says simply, reaching up and gently brushing his beard. He catches her hand and she catches her breath.

“Jyn?” he says, and there’s wonder there.

He’s been saying her name since the moment they met—calling her the name she was born with and that she thought she’d die without, buried or left rotting under one of her aliases—and it’s made her want to be Jyn again after running from it for so many years. She wants to ask him what she can do for him, to give back, but the way he looks at her now—she already knows.

She kisses him first, dirty hands threading through his hair. She can feel him breathe, the rise and fall of his chest against hers, and her own heart hammers hard in her chest and she thinks that he must feel it too. After all, they have almost always been in rhythm with one another since the start. Cassian lifts her off her feet, mouth still searching hers, and places her on the counter, pressing her against the wall. There’s a clatter of measuring spoons and bowls, but they are otherwise silent save for soft gasps and the crinkle of his jacket as he moves with her.

The air fills with the sweet smell of cake, buttery and aromatic, but when it begins to burn, it’s Cassian who pulls away from her, startled. His lips are swollen with kisses, and Jyn’s stomach swoops with something like triumph.

“Should we take that out?” he asks.

She sighs and hops off the counter to grab the mitts. Pulling out the cake, she tosses it on the counter and shuts off the oven. Cassian looks at her expectantly, and she can only ask, “What? Did you want some cake now?”

He laughs. “No. That’s not what I want now.”

There’s something else on his lips, she thinks as she sees his mouth twitch, something else he wants to say, but nothing comes and she thinks that it’s okay. She knows. And the time will come for them both to put words to it. But now, she takes him by the hand instead and leads him out of the galley and back to his quarters, their steps quickening into a run until the doors to his room whoosh shut.

Someone else could have her cake, Jyn thought. She had a far sweeter thing for herself now.

I once heard the story of a man who came to see the beauty and miracles that happened every day living with his wife with AD/HD. He described coming home after one of his wife’s grocery shopping days where she often spilled the contents of the bags. One day, after his view of her had shifted, instead of feeling frustration with the ‘mess’, he opened his eyes and saw the miracle of chocolate cake 'growing’ on the trees of his front lawn where it had landed after she became distracted and tripped, tossing the cake she was holding onto the branches of the nearby tree.

So about a week before adoption day the girls kept asking for a rainbow cake. They must have had one at school or something because i had no idea what they were talking about. I said, well maybe we should make it for adoption day. I hadn’t planned on baking a cake for adoption day, but whatever, I could throw together a white cake, toss in some sprinkles and have my sister draw a rainbow on it in gel and call it done. Well my sister explained they are a thing and we decided to try and make it layered like a rainbow, then draw a rainbow on top.

Then Charlie walks in and says, I have a good idea, it should be a heart cake for adoption day because hearts mean love. Of course we all melted so guess who was up until 1 am the night before adoption day baking a rainbow heart cake??

I did the baking, making the icing, and dyed everything and my sister decorated it (Charlie colors in the lines better than I do - not my strong suit at all). They requested stars on it and i happened to find star candles at the store (rainbow colors). My sister added three hearts and three stars to represent the three of us.  So we had cake and they got to blow out candles (best thing ever). Then I accidentally burned Mary with the lighter after lighting the candles. Nothing like branding your child on day 1. :-/

Im working on a way for him to meet McCree’s kids so this works till now!

If somebody wants to give me a prompt for that tho lemme get one in my inbox :)

“Ey! Gabe!” Sombra snaped making Reaper appear behind her

“What!?” He growls making Sombra jump in her chair and rant at him in Spanish

“Just take a look at this” She growls rolling out from her desk

Scrolling through the photo files There was one of McCree and his s/o on the night of there wedding. Kissing cutting cake. The bouquet toss. celebrating her catch happily 

As well as many baby photos of there kids on the day of there birth. Birthdays and McCree sobbing from joy

“So…McCree is truly happy…with his life” Gabriel said. trying hard to not smile at the view of his pupil and his life

“Delete these…now”


“I don’t want Talon to know of his family’s existence

he says walking off “Right now Sombra” 

Harry Potter and the Summer of the Stepfather: Birthdays Pt. X

Tonks lurched in, tripped over the doorframe, and went sprawling into the center of the floor, knocking over the bottle of hornberry wine as she went. Everyone scattered. Harry, irritated, caught Ron’s eye. Ron made a face at him. Harry shook his head.

Tonks picked herself up. “Wotcher Harry!” she said cheerfully. “Happy birthday!”

“Yeah,” Harry said unenthusiastically. His neck prickled; Hermione was staring meaningfully at him. He cleared his throat. “Uh.” He faked a cough. “Sorry. Thanks.”

“Been a good birthday, then?” Tonks asked.

“Oh yeah, it’s been cool,” Harry lied. “Spent it with my mum and Professor Snape. Saw a movie, that Coen brothers movie.” He thought about adding how hilarious it had been, when Severus had slipped into the Minnesota accent.

Tonks frowned. Her hair darkened from pink to purple. Harry briefly caught a glimpse of another world where he thought she was one of the coolest people ever, like Bill; unfortunately now he just thought she was a bit naive. “I thought you went to the Puddlemore United game with James?”

“I chose to stick to my commitments,” Harry stated blandly. Hermione carefully, discretely poked him. He smiled. “It meant a lot to Mum.” It meant a lot to him.

Fred broke in, “Wow, can’t believe you spent it with OI’ Snapey of all people. What’s he been like?”

George added, “Threatening to take off points for the wrong deosil stir of the morning oatmeal? Trashing Gryffindor with every breath? Did he shower at all?”

“He gave me his grandfather’s watch, actually. It was a bit awkward in the beginning and honestly it’s still weird, but he’s been…” He trailed off. How could he describe the summer? Constantly wrongfooted, but never tiptoeing around: he’d learned more than he had ever wanted to know about his parents, but Snape had been relatively chill, though he still wasn’t very good at taking a joke at his own expense, not even from Lily. “Snape’s been pretty cool, actually. I mean, he’s touchy, but take him away from Neville’s exploding cauldrons and he’s actually pretty funny. And he makes my mum really happy.”

Hermione sighed. “Poor Neville. I can’t believe his grandmother is making him retake his Potions OWL on his birthday. It’s not he needs it for Herbology, not really.”

“It does look bad, though,” Cedric said mildly. “Think about it: a potions supplier who can’t synthesize anything more complicated than a boil cure?”

Grateful for the distraction, Harry sat back and let the conversation wash over him. He liked his friends. He liked them a great deal. Luna and Ginny were at a careful distance from each other, out of all the Weasleys only Ron and Percy knew, and Ginny was making up for the discomfort by being particularly belligerent to Fred and Tonks especially, who had been her first major crush. Ron played dumb and sarcastic, only reacting to what was said, and Cedric stayed mostly silent. He and Tonks had barely overlapped in Hogwarts, and he had never liked the twins. Cedric didn’t have much of a sense of humor. It made him a little difficult to talk to sometimes.

Eventually, they were called down, flushed and overheated and laughing, to the backyard, alit with candles and fairies in jars, where Mrs. Weasley had set up an enormous Golden Snitch cake. The entire Order, sans Severus and Professor Dumbledore, was there, beaming in the feylight. Lily looked a little teary. She was standing on the other side of the cake, away from his father. He walked to her. She half-hugged him. They sang happy birthday and then Harry had to endure everyone’s well wishes, various hugs from people he barely knew, hand-shakings, and intense questions on what he wanted to do with his future.

He didn’t know what he wanted. Voldemort was only just dead, but some of the Death Eaters were still at large, setting up Corban Yaxley as the new Dark Lord, and he knew he wanted a break from constantly being in danger. Eventually, he thought he might like to teach.For now, he wanted to survive his NEWTs.

“Ah, you’ll be an auror,” Professor McGonagall said. “Just like your dad was.”

James grinned and messed up his own hair. Lily conspicuously rolled her eyes.

Finally, Sirius came up to him, Peter as his heels as always. Harry stiffened. He’d always been a little intimidated by Sirius when he was younger, he’d been such a quiet kid and generally bullied for being weird at muggle school, and Sirius had always teased him for being silent and not wanting to answer questions. Of course, that had changed with Ron and Hermione, he’d come out of his shell, even thought he mostly stuck by them, but he never really knew what to say to him that he wouldn’t rather say to his own father. He glanced at his mother. She was outright scowling: the prank. Yeah.

“Hey, sport,” Sirius said, ruffling Harry’s hair. Harry tried not to scowl; nevermind the uncomfortable questions, this had always driven him insane. He patted his hair down, but it stayed as wild as always. “Been a good birthday with your dad?”

Suddenly, an absolutely evil idea crossed Harry’s mind. He grinned, looking at Peter’s pensive face, his father’s uncomfortable expression, his faintly murderous mother. He could make this worse. He could make this so much worse.

“Oh yeah. It’s been great. Didn’t you hear? Mum’s engaged!” Harry exclaimed happily. “She and Severus are getting married!”

James rounded on Lily. “You’re marrying Snivellus?”

“Don’t call him that! And no, Harry’s being a shit–”

“He’s a Death Eater, Lily!” James paused. “Don’t call my son a shit!”

“But I’m being a shit,” Harry said. “I’m starting shit. You’re a shit.”

“He’s got to have you imperiused,” Sirius said. He raised his wand. “Come on, we need to check for dark magic–”

“Put that fucking stick down before I punch your face in, Sirius, Harry’s being an ass.”

James grabbed her arm. “Lily, please, we need to talk about this–you can and should be doing so much better than that greasy weirdo–”

“He’s not that greasy,” Harry chimed in.

“You are such a little shit,” Lily said, “you have been spending far too much time with Severus–”

“Sirius, just cast the finite,” Peter urged.

“Lily, I thought you told me marriage was a bourgeois concept–is he forcing you into this–”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk, James. Will you just listen to me–”

“Finite incantatum!” Sirius shouted.

Nothing happened.

Lily looked at him flatly. “Are you done?”


She picked up the cake platter and tossed it into Sirius’ face. Peter yelped, “Expel-expelliarmus!” Lily’s eyes widened, but she couldn’t cancel the curse quickly enough. The cake, resting on plates across the backyard and nestled in Sirius’ hair, blew up.

Between the Marauders, Lily, and Harry, they managed to pin the blame on Fred and George, who actually were contemplating blowing up the cake. When the misunderstanding was cleared, Harry feeling defensively smug, Lily just irritated, Jame and Sirius agreed that it was a most excellent prank. Peter just grinned awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Exactly how pranks should go: harm to none, maximize slapstick.”

When Lily attempted complaining to Severus, when they finally got back, Severus laughed so hard he snorted. All in all, Harry thought: worst birthday ever. But the cake disaster was pretty fun.

End of “Birthdays”, a 10-part series from the Stepfather AU. Click the #birthdays tag below to read the entire series, and the #stepfather au to read more from this universe. For more of my Harry Potter fanfic, just click the #fanfic or #snily tag.

Will be updated so you can just click a link to the Stepfather AU page and the previous part eventually.

So a week ago I mentioned on my old tumblr about this secret proposal video that I loved and it reminded me of my fav ship!!nessian!!!so I wrote a fic to it. I…guess it’s alright. Not the best fic I’ve written. Modern au!

Nesta sat alone at the table, watching her boyfriend on the dance floor smile as he twirled his daughter around, pulling her close. Azriel sat silently next to her, an arm strung around Elain’s shoulders, who at the moment was trying to convince him to go dance with her. They had just gotten done with the dinner meal, and before Feyre and Rhysand cut the cake, Feyre would toss the bouquet of flowers she held as she walked down the aisle. Nesta wished she were glued to her seat because she, in no way, would be the one to get married next, out of all the other women there.

She loved Cassian; there was no doubt about that. The little girl, Cassian’s little girl, Nesta loved also. Yulissa, otherwise known as Yuli, had been Cassian’s child ever since he got a girl pregnant in the eleventh grade. They were dating, and it was up until they both graduated, when the little girl was two, when her mother left Cassian to take care of Yuli. On his own. So, when Nesta and Cassian met shortly after Rhys and Feyre did, and then Nesta met Yuli, Nesta fell in love with her before she did with her father.

Every now and then, the girl ran over to the table they were all sitting at to take a sip of her juice box, and give a hug or kiss to Nesta. She’d push her glasses up her nose before turning and skipping back towards Cassian, who at that point was already looking at Nesta with a smile on his lips.

At the time for the bouquet toss, Elain did end up dragging Nesta from her seat. Reluctantly, and sluggishly, Nesta stood in the crowd with Yuli standing in front of her. The girl knew she wouldn’t get married at her little age of six, but still stood because of the other kids there. Nesta kept her arms loose, just in case the flowers did go to her and forced her to catch them.

But, it seemed as though the bouquet wouldn’t exactly fly through the air.

Her sister stood with her back to the group and Mor, Rhys’s cousin, was still at the front shouting at Feyre that she better aim the flowers to her like they talked about. Nesta thought it was a little dramatic, but stood and drowned out the laughs and rowdy voices that came from the ladies in the group. Feyre pushed her arms back, pulling them back and forth to the count of three, before she was turning around.

Nesta furrowed her eyebrows as Feyre walked straight to her. Yuli turned to look up to Nesta, smiling wide but moving out of the way as Feyre stopped in front of her, handing the flowers out to Nesta.

“What are you doing?”

Feyre only wordlessly turned Nesta around, hands set on her shoulders as she let Nesta watch as Cassian walked up. The same, handsome smile was on his face as he winked and said, “Nes.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers slowly.

“What?” Her eyes were wide, and they moved down as Cassian fished something out of his pant pocket. As he finally got it, finally held it in his hand and knelt down to one knee on the floor, Nesta was sure her heart stopped dead in her chest. She watched Cassian pull yuli into his arms before he opened the lid of the case, the sparkling and small engagement ring making its appearance.

“Will you marry me?”

“Are you–are you seriously asking this when my sister just got married? At her wedding reception?”

“We talked about it. It was staged.” Cassian grinned, “Will you marry me?”

Nesta moved her hands over her mouth, speechless as Cassian continued to speak. Tears stung her eyes. “I went to them a few months ago, asked if it was appropriate for me to do so. They were…completely fine with it.” Never once did his hazel eyes move from hers. “I love you, so much, Nesta. My daughter is quite fond of you also, which makes this even better with her approval.” Yuli laughed as Cassian leaned in to kiss her cheek, moving her head into his shoulder. “Will you marry me?”

The bouquet hung from her hands and the room was quiet for a moment, low music playing. It was then when Nesta nodded her head, blowing a breath through her lips and waving her free hand to dry the tears in her eyes. She was still nodding her head when Cassian stood and kissed her, applause and cheers erupting as his hands moved behind her head, pulling her closer.

A cry came from her sister behind her as Nesta pulled back and Cassian picked up the ring and slid it onto her finger. He was kissing her eyes shortly after, arms moving behind her back as Nesta moved hers around his neck.

She pulled back, slowly, and hugged him, face hidden in his neck. Yuli reached to them, her own small arms wrapping around the both of them.

For the rest of the night, Nesta couldn’t stop glancing to the ring that now sat on her finger. Once they were through with congratulations–Nesta didn’t think there would ever be a time where she wasn’t thankful for her sister after she let them be the spot light–Cassian and her had their first dance as an engaged couple. They both, with no doubt, imagining how their first dance as a married couple would be on their special night together.


Two-bit had took a handful of cake and rubbed it all over your face. Naturally you wanted revenge but Two-bit had hardly jumped to his feet and was running away from you.

You couldn’t let him get away. You looked down at the remaining cake the was in front of you. In a split second decision you picked up a chunk of cake and tossed it at Two-bit.

You hit him right in the face. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing and Two-bit did as well. This was definitely messy but also fun.

dis: i don’t own LOT
note: Wentworth Miller and Leonard Snart share a birthday! June 2nd!




Sara had been wondering what was wrong with Leonard all day. Something was off. Had been since they’d landed while Gideon did some repairs after their last mission that had them nearly crashing. Rip made sure to land them somewhere far, far away from civilization. Probably a good idea. Whenever they got around other people… Especially Sara, Mick, and Leonard: things tended to go sideways. Honestly, Sara had been looking forward to a little peace and quiet. So when she’d gone to find Leonard to play a few rounds of cards, she’d been a bit surprised at the brush-off he’d given her. 

She’d asked if something was the matter. 

He’d said no. 


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CSJJ Day 22: Captured

Happy Sunday, Oncers! Here’s my submission for CS January Joy, a oneshot based off the following prompt:

You’re the photographer my friends used for their engagement, wedding, and kids. Now I’m graduating, and they’ve called you to document the happy occasion.

I don’t generally write off prompts, and the fic below is a little different than what you might first expect based on the prompt above, but I hope you enjoy it. Many thanks to @katie-dub for organizing @csjanuaryjoy and helping me select this prompt in the first place. It’s been an emotionally-charged week for me as an American, but writing certain parts of this fic was definitely therapeutic. Happy reading! Comments, as always, are welcome!

Find it on AO3.

Summary:  Killian Jones is a promising student who enters law school with no family left and a hunger for vengeance. But three years under the guidance of the right mentors helps him find hope and a new purpose in more ways than one. (Captain Swan, Outlaw Queen, photographer AU, lawyer AU. Romance/Fluff. Rated G.)

Tagged upon request: @optomisticgirl

He first sees her at a wedding.  It’s a predictably classy, predictably ritzy affair.  His law school professor-slash-mentor-slash-boss, Robin Locksley, and Robin’s legal partner-turned-fiancé, Regina, get married a year after Killian lands a highly sought-after summer internship at their prestigious firm.  

He’s busted his ass for the firm, worked twelve-hour days, taken advantage of his nearly non-existent social life to throw in even more hours overtime, gone on countless runs for coffee and take-out, and dozed off over stacks of legal briefs at 2 AM more than once, but it’s paid off.  The partners have been impressed by his resourcefulness and doggedness and personal charm.  Even the notoriously exacting Regina, in one of her rare complimentary moods, once declared him surprisingly good at research.  But Killian realizes, as he dutifully escorts yet another of Boston’s political royalty down the groom’s side of the grand cathedral and tries not to stare at the woman across the nave, that this, his last-minute recruitment as an usher when one of Robin’s other men fell ill, might just be the biggest reward for all that hard work.  Because the woman?  The wedding photographer?  Bloody hell, she’s beautiful.

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Secret Santa

This story started out as something else and then took an entirely different direction based on something I imagined happening to a friend of mine.  A very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you!

Secret Santa

The doorbell rang twice while Nick was in the shower. He heard it both times but given his current state of undress, didn’t attempt to answer.   Only a few days before Christmas, odds were in favor of a package being left on his front doorstep and Nick didn’t feel the need to rush to greet the UPS driver.  Several minutes later, after towel drying his hair and throwing on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, he ambled to the front door and opened it.  Sure enough, two brown packages sat on his doorstep, one small and another large.

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