#bingo board reveal

[uminoirukaevents]

The ❤️🐬 UMINO IRUKA 2024 BIRTHDAY BINGO BOARDS 🐬❤️ are here!

Thank you everyone who submitted prompts! Over 80 suggestions (excluding duplicates)!! Any prompts submitted more than once were guaranteed a spot on the board. There weren't enough to fill full nsfw or dark boards so those boards are partial. In total you have 6 boards to choose one from ⭐️

Sfw #1

Sfw #2

Sfw #3 ↓ Under the cut ↓

Nsfw

Dark

Nsfw & dark

If a board contains a squick you can contact Mod through an Ask to replace the prompt(s) with something from one of the other boards. Same goes for if you are using a screen reader and require a non-image board, please contact Mod through an Ask.

Once you have chosen your board, simply save it and get started. The posting period starts May 1st and the Ao3 collection will not open until then. You can access the general guidelines here. A tagging guide as well as if there are any guidelines/rules specific for this event (if any) will be shared before May 1st.

Boards sent out/Prompt list revealed: April 14th

Creation period: April 14th to May 31st

Posting period: May 1st to May 31st

Master list: June 1st to June 7th 

Feedback form: June 8th to June 30th

Sfw #1 - the standard board

Sfw #2 - the AU board

Sfw #3 - the trope/genre board

Nsfw & dark boards under the cut (starting with a list of the prompts on the boards).

Content/trigger warnings for the nsfw & dark boards: Nsfw board: First time, Blindfold, Wrong Identity Sex, Masturbation Dark board: Sex pollen, Voyeurism, Sugar Baby, A/B/O (Omegaverse)

Nsfw board

Dark board

Nsfw & dark board

[lettuce-gremlin]

How deep does this bingo game go?????

[fivelasanctum]

I blame the snippets from the Commission handbook I found online but I am shipping the young man form of Founderfive + Lila together. Love her with her canon beloved in any form. A bit of a crackship but still intriguing in the scope of fanon and the fanfiction realm. Does offer many compelling storyline developments if he had survived past season three. Or a trace of himself lingered in the timelines given he created the time Commission and most likely the subway system as a possible contingency plan. Five assumed he was 100 years old given that is a normal human lifespan and he passed away in his 'can'. In the excerpt he mentioned he no long remembered his name. Yet he was still quite lucid to talk to his other self to not save the world. Not suffering from dementia at all. Been established that time was nothing when at the commission. Why we can't truly gauge lila's age given she worked for them as well. Five was suppose to only do 5 years of service for the Handler but was still with them up until he was 56 or 58 year old self. Was rescued when he was 45. Time is subjective. So the founder may be more godlike in terms of his age and abilities (thinking timelord for those familiar with the Doctor Who series)

As shown in the image above: Seems to be a somber, melancholic version of five that is filled with regrets. Horrified about what he has created. That has a life all it's own. Essentially feels the road of hell was paved with good intentions but that despite the original aim for what he wanted, "time is a finicky mistress." Cannot be molded by one person no matter how powerful the founder became. "someone I lost" could mean his youthful self that was self aware and confident in his purpose. Knowing what he wanted and needed to do. Believing he could change the world on his own. Since founder lost touch with what it meant to be a 'Five'. Yet it can also mean he lost his version of lila. The series is familiar with tragic endings with couples. Luther and sloane were sweet, married each other and looked to be endgame. Yet when the universe was reset, luther remembered and still loved her but for whatever reasons, couldn't find her. When five and her found him in the bunker she did have pity for him. Trying to calm Five's ire towards the founder since by this time he was in a more fragile state when it came to his health. He did acknowledge her with 'bingo.' A five-ism I'll call it. Confirming she was keeping up with it all. Not confused like other characters would be (Diego and luther in particular) When he did perish, she was hesitant to leave her five alone with now dead founder. Knowing it was an emotional moment for him. Confronted with his future mortality and the realization he would be alone. Not having accomplished what he sought out to do. Their was another revelation in the commission handbook that five can't use his powers if his hands are bound yet was not verified completely. Take with a grain of salt since I still need to purchase the book and this is second-third hand accounts from others that gave hints to some lore on five/founder. Still opens some doors with the information. Many ways to go with founderfive and lila within the fandom. ♥ Could be more manic with a god complex in his younger days since five revealed to Klaus he thought he could evade death in addition to time and disasters. Would make founder be more insane or at the very least more of an anti-hero type character. ♥ slow-burn beauty and the beast tale with Lila. Projects being more insane than he actually is to push her away. ♥ Possibly stalking/watching her when both were at the time commission courtesy of his own powers and the infinite switch board. ♥ Their were three chairs in the bunker with opened alcohol bottles and glasses. Showing he could have had company but with himself. Since he made the Bunker paradox psychosis proof. Most likely to bounce ideas off alternate fives for how to save the world before he threw in the towel in the end. ♥ Perhaps created paradox psychosis as a means of sticking it to his other selves. Five has always been self deprecating as we saw with his adventure with luther. Both trying to kill each other and insult one another. Founder could see what his alternate selves were doing, jealous if they had a happier life with their 'lila' compared to his situation of being stuck at the commission with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Well. More than one world infinite ones due to timelines branching off. ♥ With his mastery over time it could have served as a double edged sword. Slowing down his own time subconsciously. Lila, while able to mimic his abilities, she could have hit her limits. Having to watch her age eventually while he would remain. Maybe worked on finding a way to let his time move so he could reunite with her. In the comics, Five is frozen in time as a ten year old. Never able to grow from that point. The handler was able to freeze time for a couple minutes and she wasn't even the highest ranking person in the commission. Makes sense founder can impart a crumb of his powers. ♥ Founder serving as the battery core of the commission for everything to function. Suitcases leeching off his power, creating custom timelines.

♥ Idea of founder being annoyed with his other self. Jealous if main lila has a relationship already with main five. Might separate him in three bodies. Representing the three parts of his mind while in physical, different ages. Kid five, apocalypse five and 25 year old five at the end of the series. Yet all have the memories of lila and events leading up to what founder did on a whim. Can't stay separated forever since memories or sense of self can be distorted. Just some ideas I have had and other Fivela/live/Fila fans have had when discussing this on Discord <3 Thanks for reading~

[ckret2]

Chapter 21 of honestly everyone's just sorta used to Bill being the shack's prisoner now (title tbd): Stan & Ford have a birthday party! Bill is not invited. He still manages to find a way to be fiendishly evil.

Also featuring: Wendy deciding what she thinks about "Goldie," the shack's mysterious secret "guest."

####

Mabel slid a piece of paper across the gas station front counter, listing a dozen scratch card serial numbers spread across three different games. "I'd like these numbers in these cards, please!"

The cashier gave the paper a dubious look, then looked at Wendy. "We're not supposed to sell the scratch cards outta order."

"Please?" Wendy asked. "Just a little exception? For us?"

"We really wanna play our lucky numbers," Mabel said. "Plus, I had a vision. In my sleep."

She and Wendy gave him their best big-eyed hopeful pouty looks.

The cashier shrank back. "Well..." He averted his gaze from the adorableness that was Mabel, and sighed. "Just this once. But I don't want to see you two in here with your nonsense again." He started unrolling one of the spools of scratch cards, inspecting the numbers. "These'll be over a hundred dollars."

Wendy winced. "Ooh. Mabel?"

Mabel offered three dollars and a quarter. "That's fine! Can we start with 177 from the beach cards?"

She received the card, depicting a pastel beachy scene next to five miniature bingo boards. She confidently scratched off the card to reveal its winning numbers, pointed at the fourth bingo board where she'd just gotten bingo, and said, "That's $200! Our payout, please."

The cashier took the card, inspected the numbers, and stared at Mabel in amazement. She grinned at him. Wordlessly, he opened his cash register, pulled out several twenties, and offered them over.

"Thank you!" Mabel accepted the money and pointed at the paper. "The rest of our cards, please?"

As they left with eleven scratch cards, Mabel handed Wendy three twenties—"Here! For helping!"—and stuck the rest of the change in her pocket.

"Dude. That was awesome. You were so cool in there, like—" Wendy put on her coolest, most unruffled expression. "'Our payout, please.'"

"That's just the kind of rock star I am." Mabel put the scratch cards in her bike's basket. "Thanks for the help, Wendy!"

"Sure, any time." Especially if she got a surprise $60 out of it. "Heading back to the shack?"

"Yeah! I've gotta finish decorating for the party!"  Mabel waved as she took off down the road. "See you then!"

"See you." She guessed that meant she wasn't invited to hang until the party started. Given the touchy situation inside the shack, no surprises there.

She wondered what Goldie had to do with Mabel's interesting trick with the scratch cards. She was sure there was something.

####

Bill leaned into the kitchen. "Hey! How's that cake coming along?"

Mabel stopped arranging dozens of candles in the frosting to point at the door. "Out, Bill! Nobody's getting cake until the party!"

Dipper said, "You don't even deserve a slice."

"Agree to disagree!" Bill said. "But if you don't give me one anyway, I'll annoy you about it for weeks."

"He can have a slice at the party," Mabel said. "The cake's big enough." A couple of overcrowded candles spilled off the edge of the cake. Mabel picked them up and carefully stuck them back in.

Bill fought back a laugh. "Are you sure about all those candles? If you light 'em all up at once, you'll burn off everyone's eyebrows," he said. "But unfortunately, you'd also melt the frosting."

"The frosting's already a mess," Mabel said, peering at the barely-visible HAPPY BIRTHDAY STAN & FORD hidden beneath the forest of candles. "But Soos doesn't have any of those number-shaped candles, so..." 

"Roman numerals," Bill said.

"Oooh." Mabel looked at the cake thoughtfully, and started pulling out candles. "How do you make 62?"

"LXII. Fifty-ten-one-one," Bill said, then shot a grin at Dipper—who was glaring at Bill for answering before he could. "Isn't that right, smart guy?"

"Yeah," Dipper grumbled.

"You kids take the credit if they ask about the candles," Bill said. "They'll just get grumpy if they know I had any influence on the decorations."

Mabel carefully tilted the bottom leg of the L just enough to keep the tip out of the frosting, and started smoothing out the rest of the candle-pockmarked surface. "Now I've got enough empty frosting to add some decorations!" Mabel said. "I don't have enough time to draw something complicated. Maybe rainbows?"

Dipper shook his head. "I don't think either of them would be into that."

"Draw gold bars," Bill said.

Mabel blew a raspberry. "That's what you'd want on a cake!"

"No, I'd want me on a cake. Stanley likes gold! Stanford should like gold more, you could help him develop a taste for it."

"No."

Dipper suggested, "Maybe you could draw gambling stuff on Stan's side of the cake? Since they couldn't have their birthday party in Vegas like he wanted." Dipper shot a sideways glance at the reason they had to stay in Gravity Falls. (Bill shrugged. It wasn't like he'd asked the Stan twins to stay in town.) "You could do poker chips or playing cards or—"

"Dice!" Mabel said. "Dipper that's perfect, they both like dice! We can put normal dice on Grunkle Stan's side and nerdy dice on Grunkle Ford's—"

"Oh, that's great! I've got my DD&MD dice bag in the attic!"

"I'll look in the board game closet!"

Dipper and Mabel took off. 

Bill waited until he was sure they were gone.

He checked out the kitchen window for witnesses, then picked up a dozen abandoned birthday candles, licked off the frosting, and hid the candles in his hoodie's hood. Too bad they hadn't left a matchbook out, but Bill knew a fun little trick with an empty aluminum can and a tube of toothpaste that would work just fine.

When the kids returned and Mabel stuffed the remaining forty-odd candles back in their box, they never noticed any were missing.

####

Mabel had put herself in charge of the guest list. Which explained why, along with Stan and Ford's actual friends, all Mabel's friends had been invited; as well as—among other people—the mayor ("he's like the Mystery Shack's best customer, Grunkle Stan!"), Shmebulock ("Jeff said Shmebulock stole the Journal 4 you started last fall, I was hoping he might gift it back"), and the Hand Witch and her boyfriend. ("Whaaat, Grunkle Ford you met her TOO?! What a coincidence! Dipper, did you know he met—oh, you did. I didn't read those pages!") It would have been a lot more awkward if not for the fact that the birthday boys were awed and humbled that so many people had attended knowing they were coming to a birthday party for Stan and Ford Pines, and none of the guests had even been bribed.

When Soos and Melody helped Mabel carry out the birthday cake, Ford laughed at the sight of it. "Did you make Roman numerals out of candles? How clever! Stanley, do you know what Roman—"

"Yeah, yeah. I watch the Football Bowl, you know," Stan said. "Honestly, I was expecting this thing to be covered in candles."

"I almost went that route," Mabel said. "But I thought I'd save that kind of firepower for the Fourth of July."

"Hah! That's my girl."

"Happy Birthday" was sung, candles were blown out, and the party lined up to get their cake. Mabel cut a slice, loaded it on a paper plate, then glanced toward the attic window. "I'll be right back! I've gotta use the bathroom. Don't open my presents until I'm back!"

She trotted into the house, taking the cake, a napkin, and a plastic spoon with her.

####

Bill met Mabel at the top of the stairs and scooped the cake out of her hands. "You're my hero, star girl." He carried it halfway back to his window seat, stopped mid-step, and asked, "You got a piece with my name on it?"

"I got the slice with the 'Birt' and took off the extra frosting!"

"Oh," Bill said. "Heh. That's—cute." And he looked so much like he was trying to pretend he wasn't genuinely touched by the gesture, that Mabel didn't have the heart to tell him she'd only thought of it halfway up the stairs.

He flopped back in his usual window seat post—where, Mabel couldn't help but notice, he had a perfect view of the party happening outside without him. She grimaced. "I'm sorry you can't come to the party," she said. "But you did torture and try to murder the birthday boys... and most of the party guests... and left half of them with lingering trauma..."

"Speaking of, how's your therapist doing?"

"Oh, good, she's good. I think she's gonna write a paper about Mabeland."

Bill fell silent, staring out the window. Mabel almost went downstairs—when he said, "You know, I was the only person who gave Stanford a gift on his thirtieth birthday."

Mabel turned back around so fast she almost tripped on the top step. It wasn't often she got a double dose of Bill lore and Grunkle lore. "You were?"

"He didn't make new friends in Oregon and he didn't keep up with his old friends from college. His parents mailed him a gift, but it got here a week late. So I taught him a couple spells to see the stars during the day and keep rain from landing on him, and told him where to be in Portland that afternoon if he wanted to pick up a free cake from a fancy bakery."

"Aww. That was... nice of you." But Mabel had to hesitate before saying it, automatically wondering what Bill's motives had been for giving the gifts and what his motive now was for sharing this. 

Bill waved a hand dismissively. "Ahh, they were parlor tricks. They're easy, flashy cantrips that impress humans but don't do any harm," he said. "Not much harm, anyway. That night he told me all about how he was the only human to see his zodiac constellation on his birthday. The genius spent all day staring at the sun so he could see the stars!" He laughed.

But it quickly petered out. "And now I'm personally banned from his birthday party. Funny, huh?"

Maybe Bill was trying to get Mabel to pity him; but she kinda thought he was just pitying himself. She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Losing friends is tough," she said. She paused. "And that's why we should be nice to them."

Bill cracked up so loudly Mabel half expected the party outside to hear him. "Okay, Glory Unicorn! I've learned today's moral about friendship. Get outta here. See if I ever tell you anything again." But he was grinning as he shooed her off.

####

When Mabel came back cakeless, Dipper gave her a dark look, but said nothing.

"Are we opening gifts yet?" Mabel picked up a box and flung an arm around Dipper's shoulder. "You've gotta open this one first! It's from both of us to both of you!" She waved it at Stan and Ford until they took it together.

Ford pointed at the card that said, "To our Grunkles, from your gniece and gnephew!" "That isn't how you spell niece and nephew?" Stan elbowed him.

"Nope!" Mabel said. "But it's how you abbreviate great-niece and great-nephew."

"Ah, I see! Very creative."

"Nice recovery," Stan muttered. Ford elbowed him back. Together they tore off the wrapping paper and opened their box.

Inside were two more boxes, each small enough to hold in one hand—a square one labeled "Stan" and a long narrow one labeled "Ford."

Stan opened his box and pulled out a thick gold chain with a coin dangling from it. Engraved on the coin in sloppy text were the words "#1 Grunkle."

Soos held up a hand. "I did the engraving! First try."

Mabel pointed at the coin. "We made it out of pirate treasure that we have for reasons that we can't talk about! There's a skull on the back!"

They'd hung it from his favorite gold chain. He'd been missing it for a week—and he'd never even suspected the kids. How about that. Choked up, Stan said, "It's—it's great." He took off the chain he was currently wearing, chucked it into the bushes, and put on his gift. "C'mere, you two." He wrapped his arms around Dipper and Mabel.

Soos held his arms out hopefully. Stan rolled his eyes, but waved him over for a hug too.

Ford opened his box. "A pen?"

Dipper said, "It has an ergonomic grip, can take standard ink refills, writes super smoothly—I tested it out myself—makes a very satisfying click, and it's red with gold trim to match your journals."

Mabel said, "I helped pick out the design!"

"... And that's why it's also sparkly."

"I didn't do the engraving on that one," Soos said. "We had a lotta spare pirate coins but only one pen, so. They got it done at the mall."

Ford rotated the pen in his hand until he spotted the (more professional-looking) engraving on the barrel, filled in with gold. "Mine says #1 Grunkle too?"

Dipper said, "C'mon, we're not gonna choose between you two."

Stan said, "Oh, I see how it is! Trying to butter us both up, are you?" He reached under Dipper's hat to ruffle his hair. Smiling, Ford carefully slid his gift into his coat's breast pocket next to his usual pen.

####

When Bill saw that Mabel was back outside, he got up, left the rest of his cake on the window seat, scooted aside a storage box sitting forgotten in a corner of the attic, and pried a loose board from the wall.

He took his stolen candles out of his hood, wrapped them in the party napkin Mabel had given him, and stashed them in a plastic sandwich bag where he'd already stowed a crushed cider can, its edges torn and sharp.

Then he re-hid the bag, fixed the wall, replaced the storage box, gently brushed some cobwebs over the floor to hide the trail in the dust where he'd scooted the box, and turned away from his hiding spot.

To see a gnome wearing a journal like a backpack.

They stared at each other.

"You didn't see anything," said Bill.

"Shmebulock," said Shmebulock.

Bill eyed Shmebulock, the staircase, the window—and then dropped into a crouch, knees and feet spread apart like a sumo wrestler, teeth bared.

Shmebulock cracked his knuckles.

Five minutes later, Bill added Journal 4 to his hiding spot, with a mental note to find a new hiding spot the gnomes didn't know about later.

Unfortunately, Shmebulock escaped with Bill's cake.

####

Wendy squinted up at the blonde shape in the attic window. "You know—all this last week, I kept thinking I saw someone up there. I just assumed it was my imagination," she said. "Guess Goldie didn't get invited to the birthday party, huh?"

"Nope," Dipper said. "And for good reason."

Wendy laughed. "Yeah, sounds it."

Dipper glanced toward his grunkles. At the moment, Ford was opening a cheap set of watercolor paints and giving Mabel an exasperated look. ("I thought we could try them out together! And hate them together!" "All right, that might be fun.") He lowered his voice and picked at his cake. "So. You found out the big secret, huh?"

"Yup," Wendy said. She lightly punched Dipper's shoulder. "Hey—don't look so glum, man. I'm not mad you didn't tell me. There's some kind of family drama and a missing person case involved. I get it—you don't talk about that kind of stuff outside the family."

"Yeah, hah. Right," Dipper said. "So, what do you think of... Goldie?"

Wendy glanced up at the figure in the window. "We didn't talk a whole bunch before Goldie and Stan started arguing about plagiarism," she said, "but I got that she's some kind of wildcard paranormal investigator who gives off insane grifter energy. And seems really mentally messed up from being trapped in another dimension, but like, the kind of messed up that probably makes you fun at parties?" She was already mentally playing Goldie off of her friend group, trying to figure out how well she'd mesh with them. She seemed like the kind of person who'd be into some harmless trespassing and recreational vandalism. "How old is Goldie? She was working on a Ph.D., so that's what, mid-20s? Mid-20s but actually mid-50s after not aging for thirty years? Honestly, if I just met her on the street I would've thought she was like, 15. She does not look her age." Maybe it was the lack of makeup?

Under his breath, Dipper muttered, "You have no idea." He glanced away from Wendy, stuffed a large forkful of cake in his mouth, and mumbled to himself, "How much should I say? Sharing too much could be dangerous, but if I don't say anything..." Mumble, mumble.

Wendy would never tell Dipper how funny it was that he monologued to himself and hoped nobody would notice. Usually she'd politely ignore him, but if there was something dangerous... She lightly elbowed him. "Dipper. Come on," she said. "I can tell something's eating you. You can trust me."

"Ugh, I know, but..." Dipper glanced again at the rest of the birthday party—just far enough to be out of earshot, currently entranced by some thingamajig Fiddleford had gifted the Stans—and let out a heavy sigh. Voice low, he said, "Okay, Wendy, listen. For your own safety, you need to know that Goldie is way worse than whatever you heard about him last night. And I can't tell you why, because of reasons I also can't tell you—believe me, I wish I could tell you, but—don't trust him, okay?" Dipper gave her an earnest, pleading look. "Just don't. He's dangerous. That's all I can say."

It figured that even after Wendy learned the big secret, she'd just find another, smaller secret hidden underneath. Like a matryoshka doll. (She quietly made note of the "he" and wondered if Goldie had been part of the queer scene in the 80s, or if he'd only figured himself out while he was in ghost land.) "I'm assuming he's dangerous for Weird Spooky Paranormal reasons?"

"Yeah," Dipper said, teeth grit. "Yeah, basically."

He wanted to tell her more, she wanted to know more, and she was ready to play 20 questions on Goldie's backstory. Picking through what she'd learned last night for clues, Wendy asked, "Is it connected to Ford's research? All the weird magic stuff he got into?"

"Um." Dipper shrugged uncertainly. "Y...yeah? But... bigger than that?"

"Is it portal stuff." What was the most dangerous thing she knew of that was connected to the portal. "Is it Bill stuff."

Dipper let out an anguished groan, pulled off his hat, and buried his face in it. "I can't tell you more than I already have!"

"Oh my god it's Bill stuff."

Dipper eloquently said, "MRRGHF."

"Okay got it, so Goldie was some kind of Bill groupie or discovered how to summon him or something. Something like that. I don't need to know the details! But he's totally Bill-adjacent."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yep." Dipper nodded emphatically. "Bill-adjacent is... the best way to describe Goldie."

"But Bill's gone, right? So Goldie's like a cultist without a cult leader. Doesn't that mean he's harmless now?" Wendy asked. "Or do you think he's gonna try to cause the apocalypse in honor of his boss or whatever."

Dipper tugged his hat back on his head and straightened it out. "I'm sure he'd try to end the world again if he could, but... we're all still trying to figure out what he can do."

"So, domestic terrorism risk. Cool," Wendy said. "Y'know, I sorta expected to run into a guy like that in the shack eventually, but I always thought they'd be here because of Stan, not Ford." She rolled her eyes. "I'll warn you if he starts talking about ending the world or anything."

"Thanks, Wendy." Dipper glanced uneasily toward the birthday party. (They were still distracted, currently trying to douse the flamethrower on Fiddleford's birthday gift. It was trying to eliminate the competitor gifts.) "Just... don't tell anybody else, okay? If the town finds out that Goldie is—you know—Bill-adjacent..."

"Relax." She pantomimed zipping her mouth. "I'm not gonna organize an angry mob."

She glanced up at the attic window. Goldie was still up there, staring down at the party. He noticed Wendy staring and made a face at her.

She made the same face back, and saw him silently laughing. Okay, he had bad taste in friends, obviously; but Goldie seemed kinda cool in an unhinged way. From what Wendy had gathered, Bill had conned and then betrayed half the people she knew—and if the Pines had only just managed to get Goldie back on this plane of reality, months after Weirdmageddon, that meant Bill hadn't bothered to rescue him when he could, so Goldie was just another victim. Maybe he just needed to be reintegrated into society.

Dipper said, "Hey, Stan just poured punch on the robot and it made the fire worse. Do you think we should help?"

Wendy looked at the fire—and looked up at the fire. She was moving before she spoke. "Yeah, let's do something about that."

They rejoined the rest of the party, and Wendy put Goldie out of her mind.

####

Ford stared at the ring on his left sixth finger.

Welcome back, the Hand Witch had said.

Thirty years ago, he'd met her at a carnival. She'd told him that he'd chosen the wrong allies and would doom himself for it. She'd given him a ring with a blue cabochon and told him that if it ever turned black, there was no hope for him.

He'd dismissed her as a phony palm reader; and, the night he'd decided Bill was right about Fiddleford not being bold enough to follow through with the portal project, the ring had turned black, and he'd thrown it in the lake.

Now here it was on his finger again.

He didn't think her a phony now. Everything she'd told him had been true. And anyway, it was hard to doubt she had real magic when she spent half the party trying to stop two small disembodied hands from escaping her pockets to visit Mabel. 

"Why are you giving this back to me?"

"It's your birthday! And I thought it might be useful."

"For what? Am I in danger?"

"I don't know, I'd have to give you another reading to see." She had pulled a cartomancy deck from her pocket. "Do you want me to?" The card on the bottom of the deck had been a triangle with a snake slithering through its eye socket.

Ford hadn't wanted a reading. He knew now that what he'd called superstition back at that carnival might be a legitimate form of prophecy he simply didn't understand; but he was tired of living his life by signs and portends.

All the same, it was comforting to see that his ring was blue.

Ford's view of the ring was blocked by Stan shoving over the "Get Out Of One Misdemeanor Free" coupon Mayor Cutebiker had given as his birthday gift. "Hey, do you think I'd get in trouble if I made a buncha copies of this?"

Ford took the coupon and inspected it thoughtfully. "If you do get in trouble... a coupon counterfeiting charge couldn't possibly be worse than a misdemeanor, could it?"

"That's what I like to hear!"

It had been a surprisingly long day—and, by far, the best birthday either of them had had in well over forty years. (Was it really that long?) Now they were retired to the parlor Soos and Abuelita had converted into a double guest room, sitting on their beds facing each other as they got ready for sleep.

There was a knock at the door. Ford stood. "Coming—" He opened the door to see Bill's grinning face, a foot from his own. "Oh. You." Ford resisted the urge to step back, in case Bill interpreted as an invitation to come in.

"Hiya, birthday boy!" Bill's gaze immediately drifted down to Ford's coat pocket. "Hey—new pen? I like the sparkle, adds a little pizazz."

"What do you want, Cipher."

"Just to hand this over." Bill pressed a couple of envelopes into Ford's chest, and kept them pinned there with a fingertip until Ford reluctantly took them. "I knew you'd hate getting something from me at your party, so just for you I waited until all the festivities were over. You're welcome."

Ford studied the envelopes. They were two pieces of yellow construction paper that had been folded into envelope shape, and written on each one, in lurching crayon text that drifted up and down, was "Stanford" and "Stanley". "You made cards?"

"You're flattered."

"I most certainly am not."

"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.'" Bill shrugged. "Hey, they're your birthday gifts. Toss them in the fire if that makes you happiest. You just might wanna open them first—you know, to make sure I didn't write a fire-activated explosion spell on the inside."

Stan grabbed his envelope out of Ford's hand and eyed it in deep suspicion. "And why did you make these?"

"Because it's your birthday. Come on! Why am I explaining this, it's your species's ritual."

"I mean why are you doing it? We all hate each other. We're planning your execution, here," Stan said. "So what's your angle?"

"What do you need my measurements for, you pervert."

"ALL right—" Stan stepped toward Bill, cracking his knuckles, and was only stopped by Ford's hand across his chest.

Bill leaned back against the hallway's opposite wall. "Whoa! Consider this a peace offering! You know—'no hard feelings for all the murder, attempted or planned'! I can be a polite house guest, even if I'm not a voluntary one." Bill smiled wryly, "I'm trapped on an alien planet where I know less than a dozen people and all of them hate me. It gets boring." He looked directly in Ford's eyes. "And we've got history. Is it so hard to believe I might want to be friends again?"

This time, Stan had to put a hand across Ford's chest.

Ford said, "You're up to something."

"Is that a statement or a question?"

"Statement."

"Then you don't want an answer. Enjoy your gifts! Or don't, I'm not your boss." Bill waved, and slunk around the corner back toward the living room.

Ford shut the door. He sat on his bed, examined the envelope, and glanced at Stan, who was sitting on his bed doing the same thing.

They grimaced at each other.

"Okay," Stan said. "Is this more dangerous if we do open it or don't open it?" He hefted his envelope in his hand. "This thing's pretty heavy for just a card."

"Is it?" Ford's wasn't very heavy. He turned on a lamp on a bedside table and held the envelope up in front of it, trying to see through the construction paper. "I think he's counting on us to open these. I doubt he set a trap that will activate if we leave it closed—it's not his style."

"So, what do we think. Some kinda hypnotic mind-control magic that's activated by reading it? Or is he just trying to bribe us into liking him better?"

"He probably doesn't have hypnotic mind-control magic. If he did, why would he have spent so long trying to manipulate humans into doing his bidding?"

"I dunno, maybe he's stupid."

Testily, Ford said, "He's not stupid."

"No—listen, I've been thinking about this for months," Stan said. "You spent thirty years hopping between a zillion different dimension, right? If there's already safe portals out there, why'd he spend so long tricking someone into building a crummy one that'd destroy the universe, instead of using one of those? He's gotta be stupid!"

"I've... wondered the same thing about the portal," Ford admitted grudgingly. "But, no—I've seen him use so many roundabout tricks to manipulate minds that if he were capable of overt mind control, I'm sure he'd have used it by now."

"Fine, so mind control's off the table. But we're probably safer if we leave these alone. If we open them, they might be an annoying attempt to kiss up to us, or they might be dangerous." Stan waved his envelope like a fan. "And, we're gonna open them anyway, because not knowing will kill us, right?"

In his youth, Ford had arrogantly looked down on Pandora. "Of course we're going to open them."

They opened their envelopes.

They both contained a sheet of type paper folded in half with nothing on the front and messages written inside. Ford's read, "Stanford– I'd tell you to go to hell, but you'd barely be there long enough for it to be worth the trip. Happy birthday! –Δέος" Charming. Particularly out of the heel who'd just claimed he wanted to be friends.

"Hey, what is this?" Stan held his letter out for Ford to see: "Stanley– You were only the accomplice. I won't hold a grudge. Happy birthday! –Δέος" Stan pointed at the last word, "Is this some kind of curse?"

"A signature. Bill's real name isn't 'Bill Cipher'—it's just one of many nicknames he uses when communicating with humans. And, when writing to people who know him well, he prefers to sign with that nickname. It's pronounced déos." It meant awe—whether manifested in the form of fear or reverence. And it probably was no coincidence that Bill had picked a word that, to the untrained ear, sounded so much like the Latin deus—god.

Once, long ago, waking up to find his own hand had written a letter signed by "Awe" in a foreign alphabet had filled Ford with awe. Now... well, now it looked a little try-hard, didn't it. "Between you and me, I think Bill likes that signature best because it starts with a triangle." In Bill's handwriting, the delta looked unusually equilateral.

"Really fond of his own face, isn't he," Stan said, digging in the envelope for the rest of his "gift"—and he pulled out a handful of scratch cards. "What the...?"

How the heck had Bill gotten his hands on those? Ford checked to see if his envelope had the same—and came out with five pieces of notebook paper instead, still tattered on the edge from being torn out of a spiral notebook, covered front and back with writing—multiple languages, some inhuman, with a smattering of complex sigils and symbols. The first line on the first page read "Spell to Resurrect Fowl (chicken, turkey, duck, etc.—funny at dinner parties!)" Ford slapped the pages face down on his nightstand without reading the next line.

"What is it?" Stan asked.

"Magic," Ford said, voice flat with irritation.

"A trap—?"

"No. Magic for me. Spells I don't know. The kind of knowledge I'd—document in my journals."

Stan processed that. He tossed his scratch cards down on his own nightstand. "Lemme get this straight," he said. "Less than two weeks since he tried to kill us, with no access to the outside world and no resources at his disposal but his stupid wits—without even getting his hands on a freaking envelope—he somehow managed to get us both thoughtful, considerate gifts that are deeply relevant to our personal interests and passions! Is that about right?"

"It seems to be, yes."

"That jerk! I oughta wring his neck!"

Ford nodded in agreement. "I didn't know you're into scratch cards." He tamped down the urge to lecture Stan on the statistical improbability of making a profit.

"See, if even you didn't know, now I'm even madder that he does!" Stan groaned in frustration. "I kicked the habit. Still like playing 'em if I get them as a gift."

"Hmm." That was all right, then. Couldn't lose money on scratch cards if somebody else had spent the money.

They glared together at their thoughtful, relevant, deeply unwanted gifts, trying to decide what to do about them. Stan was the first to let out a resigned sigh and snatch his up. "What the heck. They're already paid for, I'm not gonna throw away potential free money just because it came from him." He fished around in his discarded pants pockets for a quarter. "But I'm not gonna enjoy myself!" He flipped through the cards, noting they were each labeled in a corner from 1/11 to 11/11, and muttered, "Why'd he draw triangles on some of the numbers?"

Well, if Stan had caved into his curiosity... Back into the box, Pandora, and perhaps we'll find hope at the bottom.

"Mabel must've helped him get these," Stan said. "It's the only way. And these cards have glitter and unicorns all over them." He scratched off his first card, and said, "Hey, three bunny faces—how 'bout that? I made thirty bucks already."

"At least it's not a total waste," Ford muttered, skimming the pages before him.

It was a treasure trove.

A spell to uncook food. The cipher to decrypt the Voynich manuscript. A potion to change eye color. A river stone submerged not five miles away that, when dry, hovered. A ritual involving five hours of meditation and a lot of mushrooms that opened up psychic communication with Earth's nearest alien neighbors. An illusion to make the floor look like lava. ("Good for games if you're very bored and oppressed by gravity.") The names of five hitherto-unknown demon nobles, the sigils to summon and bind them, the fields of knowledge and political influence in which they were most helpful, and a few personal tips on how to best to twist their arms into doing a favor. A complicated way to grind glasses that let one see, depending on prescription strength, anywhere from several seconds to several minutes into the future. And on and on.

And Bill didn't just toss down a few mystical-sounding words and move on: in a few terse sentences after each spell, he hinted at the principles that made them work (freely mixing magic, physics, and metaphysics), the people who'd created or discovered the trick (whether human, inhuman, unearthly, or transdimensional), where Ford could go digging to independently verify the information if he didn't want to take Bill's word for it—and what other, greater things someone might use these tricks to do, if only they fully understood how they worked, if only they had the right teacher. Bill had filled the margins, scribbled extra info in red pen in between the rows of black to double the amount of text he could cram on each line. Ford could fill an entire journal just by copying, disentangling, and expanding on everything Bill had packed into this dense five-page grimoire.

Bill had given Ford more in this letter than he had in all the years he'd been posing as Ford's friend—excluding those accursed portal blueprints. He'd shared the kinds of things Ford had always dreamed his Muse might show him. He gave it away like a free sample to entice a new customer. Five pages of deep secrets meant nothing to Bill and his infinite knowledge. He could have done this all along. He only did it now to try to bribe Ford into sparing his life: see what you could miss out on?

As Ford read the pages, his hands trembled in rage.

"—two hundred dollars, two hundred fifty dollars," Stan muttered. "Those are the biggest yet." He waved the scratch cards at Ford. "I don't understand it! That's eight winners in a row! I've made almost a thousand bucks just by scratching these off—that's not luck! How's he do it? What kinda weird alien magic gives you scratch card telepathy?"

"I don't know. I had no idea he could identify winning scratch cards," Ford said. "But I'm not surprised."

Stan shook his head in amazement, and scratched the next card.

Ford crushed the notepaper pages into a ball.

And he smoothed them back out. Bill was a monster, but this knowledge was precious. 

He looked at the Hand Witch's ring like it might tell him the correct course; but no matter which way his thoughts swayed, the gem remained a steady blue.

"This card's a thousand bucks all by itself," Stan said. "I've never won a thousand in my life. There's no way..." He scratched furiously at the last card, revealing symbols patterned after an array of gems and jewelry. "Five hundred!" Scratch scratch scratch— "Times five?! That's—!" He seized up all his cards and quickly tallied his winnings. "That's a total of nearly five thousand dollars!" He let out a disbelieving laugh. "Who needs Vegas? This monster's been better to me than she ever has!"

"Stanley, that's exactly what he wants you to think," Ford snapped. "He's giving us everything we want so we'll be more reluctant to kill him. This is less than chump change to him! Don't forget that his goal—"

"I know! I'm not stupid, I know what he's doing. Lotto numbers aren't worth the safety of the universe. But sh—shoot, Stanford, he handed me five grand for free and I'm keeping it."

"Fine," Ford said. "Fine. I suppose there's no point in throwing it away on principle."

"Darn straight!"

Ford glowered down at his underhanded "gift"—this little glimpse behind the veil into the mysteries of the universe. His whole chest bubbled and burned with rage; but beneath it—twinkling like a lonely star, twinkling like hope at the bottom of Pandora's box—was something he hadn't felt since Bill betrayed him.

Awe.

It was like waking up to a letter from his Muse.

This was who Bill could be—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—and he chose not to be. Why?! When this was so easy for him—why did he have to be what he was instead?

This charitable act only made the true Bill look even worse by contrast.

Ford re-smoothed the pages, carefully folded them in half, and stored them back in their construction paper envelope. He'd leave them there until he'd independently researched every one of these spells and ensured they did what Bill said they did and that there weren't any hidden side-effects.

And then he'd see about adding this information to his current journal.

No point throwing it away on principle.

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd deeply appreciate hearing your thoughts! Thanks!)

[timchalamet-devoted]

Airplane buddies

A/N: Okay, I'm not sure if this will make sense to anyone other than myself, but I thought it was a cute idea?? It would be a dream to be stuck on a flight with Timothèe would it not ( this is my delusion talking 🙈).

Enough rambling, I hope it's not too awful 🫠

Pairing: (not specified) x Timothée

Fluff!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stuck his hand out, his silver rings reflecting the rays of sun that seeped through the small window. I glanced down for a second and gripped it tightly, relishing in the sensation of his flesh against my own. Warm and soft, sending sparks along my skin. If only a few hours prior, I knew what were about to happen.

Backpacks in hand, we boarded the plane, wide smiles painted across our faces at the thought of the wonderful getaway before us. Just me and my closest friend, away to warm sunny beaches, mouthwatering food, and sights beyond our imaginations. We were practically bursting with excitement.

"Aisle 7, is it?"

"That's right"

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and..7. This was ours. The seat by the window was already taken, the stranger buried deep in what seemed to be a script.

It was only once we had settled down that I managed to get a proper glance at the man. I couldn't believe what I saw. Of course, it could be a resemblance, but oh, how accurate would it have to be. No, it had to be him!

I bit my lip, excitement, panick, and uncertainty running through me. I turned to my friend, whose eyebrows were already raised in question. All I could give back was a subtle nod. It had to be him. It had to be Timothée.

Oh, what was I to do? I had always dreamt of an encounter, but how was I to go about it? He seemed so deeply absorbed in his script; I'd never wish to impose.

Just then, an idea stiked me, a way of still getting his attention, without seeming too pressing. I reached a hand into my backpack, slyly producing my copy of Dune. I hoped will my might he'd notice and take the hint.

I stole a glance his way, getting comfortable, and opened up the book, cover pointing towards him.

Another glance in his direction, hoping to catch a reaction of some sorts yet his eyes remained glued to the paper before him.

A nudge from my friend, "Oi, what are you up to?"

"Just watch," I assured her. I cracked the phone of the spine of the book and made sure to produce a loud cough, practically shoving the book in his face at this point. I was desperate for his attention, and finally, to my delight, his gaze travelled towards me.

A chuckle escaped his lips.

Bingo, I now had his attention, moving on to phase two, I thought.

I looked up in mock confusion at him, giving him a small hum. My game was unravelling perfectly: he'd ask me about the book, I'd hint towards this "Timothèe Chalamet" guy, and he'd just so happen to reveal that it was him. Then, all awkwardness would be avoided, and I could fangirl in peace!

"Oh, the book- I just happen to, um, are you a fan of Dune?" He finally concluded.

"Mhm, especially the film." I smirked. Here it comes, " You see, a favourite actor of mine plays the lead role. Timothée Chalamet, do you know of him?"

I studied his reaction to my words as a blush crept up underneth the mask he wore. He cleared his throat, and cautiously removed his mask, his infamous dorky grin replacing it.

In spite of myself, the air was sucked out of my lungs. I could finally admire him, his gorgeous chocolate locks, his green oceans, his soft skin that you itched to touch, and the generous dusting of freckles upon it. The only word to describe him was ethereal.

"Suprise" He whisper cheered, sticking his hand out in greeting.

I felt my cheeks burning, this was going to be a very interesting flight.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Trolling Steve Rogers

AN: Hi all, another mood board for a Bingo fill, with a bit longer blurb this time. I hope you enjoy.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingos and Challenges: Stucky Bingo B3 - Rogers: The Musical

“Where are you taking me, Buck?”

Steve’s voice sounded strange in his own head. Bucky had placed noise cancelling headphones over his ears so he couldn’t work out where they were, but they were attached to comms so Bucky could talk to him. In tandem with the eye mask across his face, he was almost completely disoriented. All he knew was that they were near a lot of other people, if his nose had anything to tell him.

“Easy now, Stevie. Let’s just sit you down here. Almost time for the big reveal.”

Steve was jostled by someone else at his side, and he picked up the scent of Nat’s perfume. That meant that Sam was probably here too. Now he was getting worried. Nothing good came from Bucky and Sam scheming, and Nat would only interfere if it was dangerous.

“Right, here we go, big guy.”

The headphones came off first and the sound of an orchestra tuning up, along with the hubbub of hundreds of people having their own quiet conversations hit his ears. The theatre then. But why would Bucky..? Oh no! Realisation hit him, and Steve scrambled to remove the blind fold. A bright yellow curtain assaulted his eyeballs.

“Buuuuuck,” he whined. “This is gonna be so embarrassing.” Bucky and Sam just giggled. Steve turned to Nat who was looking quietly amused. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

“It won’t be that bad,” Nat placated before her smile broadened into a grin. “Look, I even bought you something as a souvenir.” She lobbed a piece of grey fabric at him.

Steve unfolded the official merchandise tee shirt and didn’t know whether to pout or laugh himself.

“I hate you all.”

Tag list: @kmc1989 @km-ffluv @wheezy-stucky @kombatfather1796 @christywrites @alexakeyloveloki @doasyoudesireandlive @galactusdevourerofworlds @crayongirl-linz @mightstill @nicoline1998enilocin @starrkermarvel @ronearoundblindly

[tomionesmutfest2024]

Tomione Smut Fest 2024

Save the Date(s)!

Official Fest Announcement  - July 18th

Prompting Opens - July 20th at 11:59am EST

Prompting Closes - July 31st  at 11:59pm EST

Claiming Opens - August 1st at 11:59am EST

Stories/Art Due - October 15th at 11:59pm EST

Works Revealed - October 16th at 11:59am EST

Writers/Artists Revealed - October 23rd 11:59am EST

Optional Reader Bingo Dates to remember

Bingo Board Sign Ups by July 31st

Bingo Boards Shared August 1st

It's almost time for Tomione Smut Fest for 2024!

[swampstew]

Stories on the horizon - sin is back on the menu

Monday - Oh Captain, My Captain - Diez Drake Smut - 8 PM EST

Tuesday - Oh Captain, My Captain - Monkey D. Luffy Smut - 8 PM EST

Thursday - Oh Captain, My Captain - Red Hair Shanks Angst - 8 PM EST

Friday - Oh Captain, My Captain - Trafalgar Law Smut - 8 PM EST

Finally finished ~ sorry for the wait! Starting the week strong by bringing this fun little event to an end. Fear not, October is gonna be a busy month for Raven.

But wait there's more!

What's the Magic Word? double chapter updates coming out September 18th and 25th - Wattpad - AO3

Turn Back Time double chapter updates coming out September 21st and 28th 29th - Wattpad - AO3

Then back on break with updates TBD and preferably after a hibernation.

BONUS!

Friday the 15th  - Kintober 2023 Announcement and Bingo Board Reveal - 8 PM EST

Friday the 22nd - Super Secret Halloween Project Reveal - 8 PM EST

Keeping a lid on all of this has been so hard. Truly. Bringing some fun and spoopy stories to celebrate my favorite season and holiday😈

October is gonna be Scary and Skanky

[izurathespookyskeleton]

I started a list of Sonic 3 movie predictions/bingo stuff imma just leave them here and update it until the movie comes out.

Some of these have came from set leaks/story board leaks (kinda) just a warning!!

• Shadow voiced by Keanu Reaves

• Voiced by Christian Bale

• Voiced by Robert Pattinson

• Voiced by Hayden Christiansen

• Shadow riding a motorcycle?

• Shadow/Sonic air skating???

• Somebody does the floss (…)

• “he’s right behind me isn’t he?” Or along those lines

• Stone has a main villain moment (🙏)

• Badass Agent Stone

• Stone getting handcuffed again (a girl could hope)

• Stone getting a change of wardrobe (fancy villain suit like the fanarts)

• Robotnik using Gen z slang

• Rototnik making a pop culture reference

• Robotnik says Slay

• Maidnik…

• More dancing scenes🙏

• Another random but popular actor makes an appearance.

• More metal music from Robotnik (still clutching to that hc he listens to metal)

• A girl could imagine he listens to Depeche Mode

• Stone dies??!!

• Robotnik dies part 2

• Stone gets a hand in his mouth again…

• Pin urself to the wall part 2!!!???

• Snapcube reference? (One could hope)

• I Am…All Of Me - Crush 40 in the soundtrack.

• We got coffee shop au in the last movie can we get another troupe :3 (watch it be major character death or like angst…)

• If Stobotnik gets a kiss scene (most unlikely) throw a party. Make a Stobotnik cake, treat urself to a restaurant candle lit dinner. (Not counting on it as much as I want it)

• ORRRR if they do get a gay scene they’re gonna do the media curse for gay ppl and kill one of them off. 😣

• Stobotnik hug scene (pls pls pls pls pls)

• They share a lair. (Like them damn bank accounts)

• Take a shot everytime Stone stares lovingly at the doctor

• Matching outfits???☹️

• Sonic and Robotnik have to work together at some point???

• DAMSEL IN DISTRESS ROBOTNIK!! GET HIS MAN TO SAVE HIM!!!!🗣️

• Stone in action (lemme see this man toss somebody pretty pls)

• Can these guys be as touchy as they were in the bts and deleted scenes pls😭😭 jfc

• LMAO Agent Stone name reveal?

• Face grab part ???

• Kid Cudi gives us another banger?

[showmey0urfangs]

For @vampirefest's Lestat Bingo | Square 3: Performer/Rock star

**This is set in the same universe as my fic The Plans We Made, shortly after chapter 14. But it's not required to have read the fic to get the gist of it.

As Louis waited to board his red-eye flight to San Francisco, he decided to look inside the little kiosk that sold newspapers, magazines, and overpriced mediocre novels. He absently browsed through the bestsellers selection, not very hopeful—Lestat's book was sold out on every website Louis had looked at, and there were very little odds of him finding it here. But just as he was about to exit the kiosk, he saw it, The Vampire Lestat—only one copy remaining. And next to it, there was some French music magazine, with Lestat's face on the cover. His hands trembling slightly, Louis paid the man at the counter for the two items and went to sit down in a quiet corner to read. He decided to start with the article, saving the rather hefty-looking book for when he was on the flight.

Translation of the interview:

Fashion icon, sex symbol adored by millions of fans all over the world, The Vampire Lestat nevertheless confided to us in a very emotional tone, that he is still looking for his soulmate:

I'm looking for someone very special, I'd even say it's the love of my life. My whole musical approach is to this end and all my songs are dedicated to him.

The song Mélisandre in particular (a single sold at more than 2 million copies in the USA alone) is dedicated to this lost love:

I wrote this song for him, the rockstar told us, in impeccable French.

I wanted him to know when he heard it, that I still love him and that I don't blame him for what transpired between us.

The star didn't want to reveal more, but he did let us know that he is preparing the release of a biography, which will go into more detail about his very tumultuous life.

When we asked him the name of this mysterious love whose charm he sings of, Le Vampire Lestat was once again very discreet.

They are a very private person and I am already afraid that with my approach, I have put him in more danger. But it was the only way I could get in touch with him and proclaim my love to him.

The rock star concluded with a very enigmatic message, addressed to his beloved: Come to Me....

[runsintheblood]

It's family kink bingo time!! We're proud to announce another fanwork event for the vamp fam ♡ Fanged Four Family Bingo is a month long prompt based event all about wholesome and kinky vampire-family friendly fun.

On the 1st of August we'll be revealing a card with 5 x 5 squares, each containing a small selection of kink prompts (including a sfw-friendly alternative) you can pick between. Your task is to, using the prompts, create something for five consecutive squares in a line (horizontally, vertically, or diagonally) to get a bingo and be feted as a fangtastic winner!

Or just go for as many as you can... or go nuts and go for a whole board blackout - there's no cash prizes (we spent all our funds on David Boreanaz photos) and no penalties, and no signups needed either. Anyone can play!

Get ready, we'll be posting full rules soon and revealing the bingo board.

Dates Board reveal: 1st August Posting begins: 1st September Posting ends: 30 September

[lsjhl]

Nose in the Snow Pt.1

Parings:

Alcina Dimitrescu x Agender reader

Summary: Turning against your family was not on your 2024 bingo card but after a threat in the woods reveals itself you might win a prize.

Words: 1.3k+

The sharp edges of the metal cuffs cut into my wrists as I growl at my children and wife. I'm not sure why this is happening, but I know I'm scaring them. I feel like a passenger in a car flying down the highway knowing it will crash. 

Oh, I can see my sweet Bela wishing to come closer, I move back. I don't know what's happening but I do know I don't want to hurt my family.

– one week ago –

“er? oney? Y/N!?” I blink and look over to Alcina. “Yes, love?” I ask as I take in the worried expression she wears. 

“I asked if you were alright, you've been staring out of the window for some time now and while I know you love to bird watch, dear, there is no such evidence of life in the depth of winter right this moment” Alcina continues with her concerns.

I look at her still a bit fuzzy in the head and from behind my right shoulder, I hear my youngest of three. “Mother, you know father is crazy,” my dear Daniela says, and before Alcina can reprimand her for the unnecessary comment I ask something far more important than my faltering mind state.

“Who got to throw the dart?” 

A little backstory to this. You see in our world ravaged by the T-virus there will be a somewhat little chance that someone you know is infected. Either a small bit, enough to hold out longer than others if given a stronger dose, or fully infected. Umbrella was never good at keeping their dogs on a leash. 

So given that mutants and the savage bipedal we call humans live in one world together we have found ways to keep ourselves aligned.

For Alcina, that means breaking all our furniture or if caught fast enough having one of us take her to Heisenberg and having him allow Alcina to wreak havoc in his scrap yard. Anger issues, we all have ‘em.

My oldest, Bela, enjoys just finding a nice sunny spot and taking in some quiet time, it's impossible to reach her in the summer when she wishes to be alone. Not due to it being hard to find her but because I will strike for blood if someone dares bother my dear daughter. But I will relay a message. She does so much for this family, I will do anything in my power to get her downtime

Cassandra my middle child is big on throwing a mean right hook so boxing is right up her alley. She loves violence and gets it from her mother. But I do take credit for the care she puts into taking the proper measures to keep herself safe and having continued fun along with knowing the correct steps of taking good care of whatever weapon she uses.

And little daredevil Daniela loves to give her mother heart attacks by climbing anything she can get her callused grabby hands on. It’s a challenge trying to get her inside during the warmer months and winter is hell for both her and me. Her because she can't climb anything taller than about thirteen feet and me because I can’t allow her to climb anything higher than thirteen feet, I wish to give my daughters everything but I dont want her hitting her head on the ceiling in the library or getting to close to the openable skylight during the cold season.  

Gosh, how I love all of them for what makes them special, and they do for me too. Now while I might not have furniture slash face breaking anger or cat-like activities under my belt my family still counts one thing as The Thing™ that makes me special. I am not one to care for certain social roles and to make a long story short, I'm agender. This means that I experience and live through having no gender, so every morning, my wife or our three adorable kids will grab a dart and throw it at a modified dart board we had made that has sections labeled as Mom, Father, Momma, and Dad. The main reason for this was that I wanted my family to have an easy way to call me without having a stroke on thinking of what labels I might prefer. You can tell which it landed on today.

“I did!” little Daniela says proudly with a bright smile that falls as soon as she hears the next words out of her mother's mouth. “Daniela, what did I say about calling your father crazy?” Alcina goes off and while she does I turn my focus back to the window dissociating from my soundings trying to find the shadows at the edges of my mind. That is until I hear Daniela’s small “but he is” in terms of my mental state and wanting her not to feel bad I chime in with “I hear people in the walls” added with a goofy grin slapped on my face as I direct my look to be at my wife. 

She, of course, gives me an exasperated look, and with a roll of her eyes she puts down that claim with a “No, you dont.” Then looks me up and down with a flicker of worry and adds “You dont right?” I chuckle and softly say no as my smile morphs into something more natural and full of undying love rather than silly mischief. That is until I go back to my delusions, “I do think we have people hiding in the woods watching us” and before I allow that statement to sink in I continue “Or it’s like a bird or something, who knows” I finish with a shrug and an unbothered expression.

“What was it you were saying mother, about father not being demented?” I hear my oldest, Bela, say as she enters the library. They continue their talk on my fragmented brain and I now have my forehead against the glass of the window still lost in my mind thinking and re-thinking the same few things. Human, animal, shadow, crazy, crow? Birds, love, birds. So on and so on.

I feel my eyes move right and left as I look for the thing lurking in my wife's woods. I saw something, I'm always seeing something. God schizophrenia is a bitch.

 I'm going to go check it out.

I turn to the library doors and take one step before my last daughter steps in front of me to block my path. “Fathers lost again,” Cassandra says before I feel the strong hands that belong to my wife pick me up. “Oh Draga, are the woods bothering you this much?“ She says softly into my ear as she cradles me to her chest. I feel myself cut back into the current world and blink slowly once before looking up at Acina with an innocent face. “I'm okay but I do want to go look at the woods for a bit, just to settle myself.” She nods and goes to put me down, that is until we both hear Daniela and Cassandra whine.

“No fair, why does father get to be picked up?” Daniela says soon followed by her older sister adding “Yeah, I want to be picked up too” I chuckle and hold my hands up in a ‘calm down’ motion “Okay, okay. Once your mother lets me down I'm sure she’ll give you three a boost up” I look the tro over and see two enthusiastic head nods and one slow shy one from my sweet Bela.

Looking back at my wife I ask to be let down and with some hesitation, she does so. “I'm going to grab my boots. I'll be back in 10 minutes, okay?” I say while walking backward to the door. ”Be safe and do keep me updated if you find anything” Alcina says as our three little girls start climbing her like a tree and she gently swats at them.

Grabbing my boots and a heavy jacket I go out through the kitchen to find the thing or things that have been bothering me.

[scottappreciation]

Scott Appreciation presents Scottuary3!

➤ WHAT IS IT?

Scottuary is a Scott appreciation event running from Feb 1-Feb 29, 2024. The goal is to get as many Scott-centric, Scott-positive fics posted throughout the month of February to boost the tag & show our appreciation. Cards for Readers’ Bingo will be added midway through the month!

➤ HOW DO I PLAY?

To submit a work, simply write for one of the prompts and post your work to the Ao3 collection—you may write as many fics in advance as you’d like, but please reserve posting for February! Once you’ve posted it, share it with us using the #scottuary2024 tag, or mention us at @scottappreciation​.

All fics must be Scott-centric and Scott-positive. Scott does not need to be the POV character, but the primary focus of the fic should be Scott’s emotions/interests/needs/etc.

No character bashing, or hate of any kind, is accepted for this event. NSFW materials are fine as long as they are tagged appropriately and the author is 18+, but please no depictions of noncon at this time. No non-canonical MCD (Main Character Death).

➤ RULES

Download the bingo card before/during February 2024.

Write a fic using one of the prompts, to be posted only once February starts.

Fics must be at least 500 words.

Bingos are achieved by publishing five fics (one prompt per fic), going horizontally, vertically, diagonally, or all four corners + the free square.

You are allowed to combine spaces for Full Board Bingo, but no more than three tiles/fic.

Please post each prompt fill as a different work, rather than chapters—for related prompts, we encourage publishing them as a series. You can submit them on Ao3 to our Scottuary collection!

The free square still needs a story paired with it to make bingo, but can be for whatever concept you’d like!

When you post a fic, share a link to it + your bingo card with that tile marked off so we can reblog it!

You do not have to complete a full five story bingo to participate! We welcome as few or as many stories as you would like to contribute.

You are more than welcome to combine fills with other February events such as @febuwhump, etc., as long as Scott is the primary focus!

We’re so excited to read all your fics!!

For easier access for translating to another language or visual impairment, the prompts for Scottuary are written out below the cut!

Filling out all five items in a column will give you horizontal bingo, filling out the same number for each row (eg, all the 2s) will give you vertical bingo, and to make a diagonal bingo, use prompts A1-B2-C3-D4-E5 or A5-B4-C3-D2-E1.

A Row:

Maybe I Should Be No One

Scott + STEM

Shadow Wolf (Darkness around the Heart)

Threefold Death

I'm an Alpha Now

B Row:

Werewolf Reveal

Somatoformic

The Bit

Mercy

Beacon Hills' (Disaster) Clubs

C Row:

Berserker Remnants

Peter Trauma

FREE SPACE

Scott + Monroe

The Preserve

D Row:

Outsider POV

Hunted

UC Davis

Wolfsbane

Scott + Fear

E Row:

I Just Need Something Permanent

Episode Tag

Scott + Clothes

Asthma

I Do Things That Should Be Impossible

[frankthesnek]

✨️ New Story ✨️

The Oath (rated E)

Stony (Tony Stark/Steve Rogers)

Medieval and magic AU, king Tony, knight Steve, mild depictions of violence, mutual pining, bottom Steve

11.8K words

Stony Bingo space T2: Magic AU @cap-ironman ; Stony manip in mood board by @fohatic

Tony has been in love with the head of his King's Guard for some time, despite never having seen the man without his helm or armor. His feelings had been easy enough to ignore because loving someone with no face didn't seem real, but when Sir Rogers' face is finally revealed to him—ignoring his desire becomes all but impossible. Tony finds that his knight is everything he had been dreaming of (and quite a bit more than he could have imagined).

[mcytmusicalbingo]

MCYT Musical Bingo Song Submission Stats!

I'm sure you're all excited about the reveal of the boards that you'll be playing with, so while we wait we thought we'd share with you some stats related to the song submission form! Without further ado, let's look at them!

We hope you enjoyed this little bonus and we can't wait to see you tomorrow for the reveal of the boards! We'll announce the official time later!

[late-to-the-party-81]

Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right

AN: Have a silly little ficlet that fills my last June-iverse space and an adoptable from Stucky Bingo.

Unbeta’d

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden/Kudos are loved, comments are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List | June-iverse Round 2 Master list

Summary: Knife thrower Bucky is just trying to practise with his act mates. What he doesn’t need is Nat and Clint speculating about what has made Trapeze artist Steve move stiffer today.

Relationships: Knife Thrower Bucky x Trapeze Artist Steve

WC: 1k

CW: Modern AU, Circus AU, Top Bucky, Bottom Steve, Light Bondage, Flashbacks, Secret relationship.

Bingo Fills and Challenges:

@stuckybingo - May Adoptable: “Have you done this before?”

@buckybarnesevents Into an alternate June-iverse - C4: Circus AU

Thunk!

The handle of the knife vibrated where it was sticking out of the target board, a scant half inch from the top of Natasha’s head. The redhead herself was totally non-plussed, her attention focussed not on either of her act partners, but on the rehearsal that was happening up above them all.

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes at her blasé attitude and threw another knife which found purchase in the wood between her outspread fingers. Beside him, Clint was checking the fletchings on his arrows.

“You really should be paying attention, Nat,” Bucky grumbled. “What if you need to move at the last moment because my aim is off?”

“That has never happened and I doubt it ever will,” Nat replied, her eyes still on the aerial artistry that was holding her focus. 

Bucky couldn’t really blame her. It was amazing the way that Sam, Steve, and now Peter, flew through the air, almost as though they had wings. Sam and Steve had been working together for years, honing their performance as trapeze artists, with Peter recently joining them permanently after years of diligent training in and amongst his performances with the Clown troop.

Just as Bucky was about to throw his next knife he saw Nat’s eyebrows draw together. “Is it my imagination or is Steve looking a little stiffer than usual?” she asked.

Clint pulled his gaze from his beloved arrows and craned his neck. “Maybe he pulled a muscle or something?” 

At his words, a memory from the night before flashed before Bucky’s eyes.

The muscles in Steve’s arms strained and his chest heaved. His signature white vest had been pulled up to reveal his sculpted pectorals and was now tangled around his wrists, limiting his movements. One of Bucky’s knives was thrust through the wadded cotton, pinning it, and Steve, to the wooden tent support behind him, leaving the blonde trapeze artist totally at his mercy.

“Maybe Brock finally wore him down?” Nat mused and Bucky blanched at the thought. 

“I don’t think so,” he countered, hoping that his voice sounded merely conversational. “Steve’s been quite vocal about how he isn’t interested in Brock. He isn’t one of Brock’s lions to be tamed.”

Steve was trying so hard to keep his vocal responses as quiet as possible, but all those little moans and whimpers that spilled from his lips as Bucky explored the expanse of his chest with his fingers, lips, teeth and tongue were like music to his ears.

“Have you done this before?” Bucky’s voice was low and husky and he knew there was no way he was disguising the hunger in his eyes.

“Yes,” was Steve’s breathy response. “Give it to me, Buck. I won’t break.”

“Who was he hanging out with last night?” Clint asked.

“I thought it was Thor, Carol and Val? Maybe they finally succeeded in luring him to their bed?” Nat stepped away from the target and pulled out Bucky’s knives one by one, handing them to him as they switched places. 

“Maybe he tried lifting one of Carol’s weights again?” Clint pulled on his bow string, warming it up, before notching an arrow and loosing it. Bucky felt the breeze from it pass his left ear before he heard it imbed itself.

“Well he is strong,” Nat responded, “but not like them. He’d be better off sticking to aerobatics.”

Steve’s legs were wrapped around his waist, and Bucky pressed as close in as possible as they kissed, their teeth clashing. With his hands he held Steve up as they rutted against each other.

“Doesn’t seem to be affecting him too much though, if he has hurt himself,” Clint stated before loosing another arrow. 

Bucky cast his eyes upwards to watch as Steve, hanging upside down from one of the trapeze swings by his legs, reached out and caught Peter as he was thrown from Sam’s grip. Everytime he watched them his heart was in his mouth, which felt ridiculous considering the act that he was involved in was equally as dangerous. Peter’s former act mates stood manning the ropes of the safety net, ready to let it down at a moment's notice if anyone fell into it. The thunk of another arrow, landing between his spread legs, the flight feathers kissing his crotch brought Bucky’s focus back to where it should be.

“He seems as flexible as normal. And look at his glutes!”

Steve was almost folded in half, his legs over Bucky’s forearms, as Bucky held on to his glorious ass and fucked into him, delirious with pleasure.

“Down boy,” Nat chuckled as Bucky moved away from the target, Clint taking position ready for Nat to practise with her throwing stars.

“‘M just saying,” Clint replied with a shrug that was almost ill-timed. “It’s not like you can’t not notice Steve’s ass. Although Sam’s is definitely a close second.”

“You’re quiet, James,” Nat observed with a tilt of her head. “Don’t wanna speculate as to what made Steve walk with a limp today?”

Under Bucky’s gaze, Steve bit down hard on his lip and the fabric of his DIY bondage started to tear. Steve’s muscles flexed even more and then he was coming, his cock spurting between them as his body pulsed and squeezed around Bucky’s cock. Bucky threw back his head, letting go of his control, and filled Steve up.

Bucky snorted derisively. “I’ve got better things to do than get involved in gossip. Why don’t you ask Wanda? Isn’t she supposed to be the mind reader?” Nat opened her mouth to reply but at that moment the trapeze trio all jumped down into the safety net and Joaquín, Kate, Yelana and Miles hastily lowered it down. Making use of the distraction, Bucky decided to make a swift exit. “See you guys later. I got some stuff to do.”

Clint looked at Nat, confusion writ on his face, but then Steve passed them with a preoccupied expression, having excused himself from Sam and Peter.  As if a light bulb had gone off, Clint said “They’re fucking aren’t they?”

Nat smiled, knowingly before she threw her second star. “Absolutely.”

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @starrkermarvel, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796