juice is a Big Ol’ Nerd (also i can’t really remember but did he wear glasses at one point? bc if so we were severely deprived of more scenes with him in glasses)
THE BIGGEST NERD.
But we did see him in his little riding glasses a handful of times. They were cute.
send me your headcanons/AUs/questions about juice ortiz!
oh gosh no lexi i hope u feel better soon! to distract u how about some domestic kastle with frank cooking up something nice in the kitchen while waiting for karen to get back from her late shift at work 💖
thank you so much, chantelle!! i’m so, so sorry to be writing this so late- there’s been a lot going on recently and i just haven’t had much tumblr time -but thank you so much for this wonderful prompt! you know i’m always happy to write these two in all their adorable glory ♥
frank castle & karen page + home by ten
He remembered the chill in December. Open windows during snowstorms, the whir of tabletop fans perched on kitchen counters. Maria’s hair gathered high on her head, loose strands clung to her neck and her skin going pink and red from the steam curling off the tops of boiling pots. He used to tease her, used to poke fun at the tank tops in winter and the way she flooded the house with cold air just to ease the heat in the kitchen.
A burner phone buzzes to life on the table. The letters KP flash across the screen, followed by a scroll of text: Running late. Be home by ten. Frank reads it, but doesn’t answer. The kitchen is hot. Steam building, fogging the windows, and his neck is slick with sweat. He was trying to keep the warmth inside, as if to prove a point he knew there was no point in. Even when he cooked for Maria, he’d eventually give in, closing the windows at the last second so that he might fool her. He never did. The chill always remained, a ghost in the room that prickled her skin and made her laugh. “Oh, too hot?” she’d tease, her nose crinkling when she smiled. Those words echo in his hear and Frank sighs.
“Yeah,” he concedes to the empty air. “Yeah, too hot.”
It’s 8:45pm. A large pot of water simmers over the stove. A box of off-brand pasta sits, open and waiting, beside it. It’s accompanied by a jar of red sauce, a garlic clove in a pocket of tin foil, and all the spices he could find in Karen’s sparse cabinets.
Frank reaches over the sink to force the window open. Biting cold air whistles through the screen, soothing the heat built beneath his skin. Relief escapes in the form of a sigh and for a brief moment Frank closes his eyes and lets the breeze roll over him in soft gusts. Outside, the city bursts to life. Car horns and front doors, a jogger’s frantic gait, wheels on asphalt. A gurgle from the pot breaks his brief bliss. Frank lowers the heat and pours in the box of rigatoni. Karen’s favorite- he remembers her ordering it more than once during late night take-out-and-case-files marathons. He found a wooden spoon and gently stirred the boiling water.
And then he moves to the garlic, the foil still warm from the oven. He crushes it with the edge of a knife, then sorts through the spice bottles to pick what he needs. Oregano. Onion powder.
In a plastic shopping bag on the table waits a tube of Pillsbury rolls and a tub of parmasean cheese. He finds a baking sheet in a rather unorganized cupboard and tin foil on top of the fridge and sets about setting up the rolls.
It’s 9:20pm and he drains the pasta, though not with the finesse Maria had always had. Some of the hot water splashes up, leaving red spots on his hand. He hisses, swears under his breath, fights not to drop the whole pot. After he sets it down he runs the water as cold as he can get it, sticks both hands under the stream. Remembers how Maria used to splash water on her face, her neck, and does the same. He uses a paper towel to dry his skin and checks the clock: 9:32.
Frank makes quick work of mixing the sauce and garlic and spices. He keeps the stove on a low simmer to keep the food warm for Karen. Takes out the rolls just before they burn. Finds butter in the fridge that he leaves in its wrapper because he can’t find a butter dish anywhere. And without candle sticks he settles for a round candle Foggy had given Karen as a birthday gift last year. It was some kind of summer scent, something fruity and light that Karen had meant to use but never got around to. He lights it with a match from his own pocket and slides it to the center of the table.
At 9:53, he scoops spoonfuls of pasta onto two plates. Adds a roll to each, sets them on either end of Karen’s tiny kitchen table. Out of habit, he shuts the window, trapping the remaining heat inside. At 9:56, the front door opens.
“Woah,” he hears Karen say, and when she comes into the kitchen she hasn’t taken off her coat. “Is it just me, or is cold in here-” She stops mid-sentence, lingers in the doorway. Frank stuffs his hands in the pocket of his jeans, suddenly embarrassed. He bites his lip, shrugs his shoulders.
“Figured you’d be hungry,” he mumbles. A soft smile spreads across Karen’s face.
“Yeah,” she breathes. She steps into the kitchen and he takes a timid step towards her. Her smile grows as she leans over to kiss him on the cheek, the warmth of his skin a shock to her lips. “Thank you,” she says. “It smells great.”
oh god that silver getting tattoos fic?? destroyed me and brought me back to life at the same time. i'm sweating just thinking about it
thank you!!! that was one of my most self-indulegent fic series (maybe the most ever tbh) because i’m just so into tattooS AND A HEAVILY TATTOOED SILVER IS A THING OF BEAUTY
au where karen works at a vet practice/animal shelter and frank comes in looking to adopt a dog :')
“Daddy are we gonna get a dog?” It was the question that Lisa had been asking for months, every time they walk past the animal shelter downtown. He always told her no, they couldn’t get a dog because he was always gone and that wouldn’t be fair to her mother each time he left. “But I’ll take care of it!” She had insisted. Frank knew that Lisa would have taken care of the dog while he was gone but Maria would have had his hide if he’d brought home a dog without asking her first.
Frank stopped at the same shelter that Lisa had asked for a dog every time they went into it, peering into the window. He missed hearing her small voice ask for a dog while she tugged on his shirt and pointed at one of the dogs in the building. Frank had wanted to bring home one every time she asked, it was just another thing that he never forgave himself for.
He should have just gotten her the goddamn dog.
Frank opened the door and stepped into the shelter, hearing the dogs bark, birds chirp, and cats meow. He cleared his throat as he started to walk through the shelter, stopping and looking at the dogs and the cats. Frank had liked cats a lot, but Maria had been allergic to cats so cats were always out of the option. He stopped at a little orange tabby and stuck his fingers into the cage, smiling as the cat walked a bit closer to him to sniff his fingers. He scratched the cats head for a moment before a small yip earned his attention and he turned moving to another one of the cages.
It was a grey pitbull puppy curled up in the corner of the cage, looking terrified at the small bars in the cage. Frank knelt down and stuck two fingers into the cage and waited, peering into the cage. Slowly, the dog stood from it’s spot in the corner and slowly inched forward to give Frank a few sniffs before the dog started to bark loudly and paw at the cage.
“Hey, buddy, how ya doing?” He asked as he wiggled his fingers a bit.
“Wow.” A voice from behind him caught Frank’s attention and he turned his head to look back at the voice. A few feet behind him stood an attractive blonde woman, resting a hand on her hip as she watched Frank and the dog. “She’s been here for weeks and has never done that to anyone, she’s so far only liked me.”
Frank looked at the dog for a moment and removed his fingers to the dogs dismay as he stood to his feet. He turned to look at the woman and slipped a hand in his pocket. “Really? I guess that’s a sign, right?”
“Definitely a sign,” She said with a small smile as she walked over the cage and knelt down to unlock it. “I hate keeping them locked up, but I’ve actually had people break in and steal the animals and I can’t help but think that whoever is doing that is probably not taking the animals home to a great house.” She said, letting the dog out.
send me an ask with a prompt, a word or an idea or a sentence for a kastle prompt and i’ll write a 15 minute fic
ugh i read her tweet and immediately i was all 'CHRIST JOANNE PLEASE STOP TALKING'
LIKE ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?? i don’t mean to be rude but ??? what’s the point ?????????? how about you actually sincerely talk about these characters and your motivations for writing the way you did instead of superficial tweets cringing about one (1) death a year ?????? especially severus whose death actually had narrative impact and closure and resolution ??????? UNLIKE SIRIUS WHOSE DEATH COULD HAVE SO EASILY BEEN AVOIDED ?????????? WHOSE ENTIRE LIFE WAS RIDDLED WITH MISERY AND SUFFERING AND WHO COULD HAVE GIVEN SO MUCH MORE TO THE WORLD TO THE FIGHT TO HIS GODSON TO THE FEW PEOPLE HE HAD LEFT WHO TRULY KNEW HIM FOR WHO HE WAS ??????????? HOW ABOUT YOU TALK ABOUT THE IMPACT OF REMUS AND TONKS’ DEATHS ON TEDDY’S UPBRINGING ??????? HOW THEIR SACRIFICE AFFECTS THE WORLD HE WAS BORN INTO AND IS LIVING IN NOW ??????????? IM NOT HERE FOR FLIPPANT APOLOGY TWEETS IM HERE TO TALK ABOUT MY KIDS
hoooo okay so thanks to that new clip i'm now imagining the 'if you have a complaint, you come here and whisper it in my ear' scene but, WITH ALCOHOL,,
okay but merlin’s accent totally gets thicker and rougher when he drinks and Eggsy realizing the man is so not posh as more slang and curse words slide in and eggsy mouths off just to see what would happen and Merlin saying the line but now it is all gutteral and deep and jesus if Eggsy thought the first time he heard it was deadly, this is a whole new level. Especially when he leans in and Merlin bites his ear, sucking on the lobe hard instead of saying anything.