#trying to look like your average good guy but he’s failing terribly

[vampstel]

Scara’s redesign is not my cup of tea… I don’t think it suits him at all

[husbandhoshi]

Heheh mingyu + cute + 9:27am

[9:27]

on god, i will kill whoever shares a wall with mingyu, is your first thought of the day.

you lay there, head positively spinning, as you hear the perpetrator snooze their train horn alarm for the fifth time that morning.

your second is, fuck, i actually went home with him, and your third falls somewhere along the lines of having the worst hangover headache of your twenty something years of being alive.

the bed next to you is cold (mingyu probably has class), you’re in a big white shirt (must have put it on after getting your back blown out), and curiously, mingyu has a studio ghibli poster you never noticed on the back of his door (good, although it would have ruined the mood if you knew totoro had witnessed all of that).

the unsavory details from last night come flooding back to you like the final chapter of an agatha christie novel, except you still don’t really get it.

kim mingyu, resident heartthrob of sigma alpha epsilon and the guy you just happened to tutor on tuesdays, not only invited you to a party, but somehow landed you in his bed, wearing his clothes.

on an average day, sleeping with a guy five million miles out of your league would be the college fairytale of your dreams, except you have class in two hours and the room is so bright, so flooded with sunlight, you think you will actually die if you open your eyes any wider.

you kind of wished things would be different.

(let’s get out of here, mingyu had said last night, and a part of you already knew what was going to happen. but instead, he walked you to in-n-out, draped in his big letterman jacket, and you spent the next two hours talking about everything and nothing over an order of animal fries.

and you remember him hovering over you, his silver necklace tantalizing and cold against the skin of your neck, asking in that awfully low voice of his—are you sure? we don’t have to.

and you pleaded and begged yes, yes, want it, want you, because you actually had the most embarrassing crush on him and somehow you fell in love all over again watching him get thousand island sauce on that nice button up of his.)

but in true fratboy fashion, he’s gone, and you’re just another girl left to dry in the wretched sigma house.

it’s then that you hear a knock on the door, at first frantic, then softly.

“mingyu’s not here,” you holler, although it’s more of a croak than a shout. “i don’t even live here.”

“um. this is mingyu,” comes the muffled voice. “sorry, i—” you can just picture him rubbing the back of his neck, piecing his next sentence together. “i thought you might want some breakfast?”

hearing the same voice that said basically unrepeatable things last night now shy as ever, asking permission to enter his own room, gives you the worst whiplash of your life. on top of that, you’re embarrassingly relieved that he did not, in fact, abandon you.

“yeah, uh, sure. thanks.” you scramble for your phone to make sure you look ok, but promptly realize the fool is charging it on his desk. so instead you just lay there, trying to look as alive as possible.

the door opens slowly, and through your half-lidded, squinty eyes, you make out what possibly could be the most beautiful man alive, looking like a dream in low hanging sweats and a muscle tee. and he has a plate of pancakes and orange juice.

“sorry, i look terrible.” the words just fly out of your mouth.

“no you don’t,” he chides in that awfully attractive pout of his. “was gonna say you look great. especially after everything that happened last night.”

he grins, all teeth and pretty pink lips, as you fight to not pull the covers over your head and just perish on the spot. “please shut up. i thought you abandoned me, you know. and i decided i was gonna stop tutoring you and let you fail organic chemistry.”

mingyu laughs and sits beside you on the bed, warm gaze falling on you. “i’m sorry. please don’t do that. i need you,” he jokes, and you both laugh again, feeling that post hookup awkwardness permeate the space.

he moves to brush the hair out of your forehead, but stops himself. he’s not sure what to do (he likes you, a lot actually, and that itself is enough to zap all rational thought from his brain).

“are you feeling ok?” mingyu asks instead. “i brought a warm towel and an advil. you know, uh, if you had a headache or something.”

it’s cute seeing him trip over his words, and you nod, giving him the ok to fuss over you.

“can you sit up? do you want me to feed you?” the questions come a mile a minute, but you’re never one to complain over a real life disney prince fawning over you.

so you let him, god, for some reason him propping you up against his pillows is a thousand times hotter than whatever he did last night, and you make the executive decision to waste your entire friday morning to spend it with him.

you’re still not sure what you are—friends, acquaintances, or something in the middle.

you wouldn’t dare think lovers though, except when he blows on a forkful of pancake to cool it down, you briefly consider marriage.

(before you go, he kisses your forehead. “catch a movie with me tomorrow?” he asks, taking his sunglasses off the top of his head and sliding them onto your face—he knows you lied when you said your head wasn’t hurting anymore.

“is this because you wanna—”

“it’s because i want to take you on a date. a real one. can i?”

he smiles at you again, radiant and honest, and you find you don’t doubt him for a second.)

[captain-mj]

Also I feel terrible asking for part 5 when you just posted part 4, but the heart is greedy and I read part four immediately, because I just can’t get enough and I want to thank you for everything you have already created in this AU ⚔️

Don't feel bad at all! I really appreciate all the asks I've been getting for this series :)

Soap couldn't help it. Ghost pressed him against the bed, his body so impossibly warm. His mouth was sinful against him, biting and teasing. There was an ache down his spine as he ran his hands over Ghost’s taut back.

His hands on his waist, grounding him and making him feel so small. 

“Please… Please…” Soap begged. Ghost was so close. His hands moving to his hips, touch so gentle it made him weak. 

Ghost’s voice was right in his ears. “Just relax and I’ll have you.” It was Soap’s mother tongue. Gaelic instead of the English they had been using. 

Soap frowned and pulled away, staring into where Ghost’s face should be. Or at least his mask. There was nothing. 

Soap woke up, extremely hard and alone. The air around him had gotten warmer but the bed next to him was cold. He got up slowly, checking across his body. 

Nothing. No marks. No bruises. Just a dream. 

He had a dream about fucking the guy holding him hostage. 

Soap scrambled up, pulling his clothes on. He had vague memories of last night. Of Ghost being so close. 

“You’re drunk.” Ghost had been disappointed, but he hadn’t touched him. Nothing that would cause him to have these kind of dreams. He had been so goddamn chivalrous, putting the blanket over him and being nice. 

Soap tried to remember what he said, but the words were murky. He wondered where Ghost was if he wasn’t in bed. 

The answer was on the couch. Also dealing with being drunk from the looks of it. The empty bottle sat on the floor and Ghost was curled up, face pressed against the pillow. He looked peaceful. 

Soap had the good luck to not get hangovers very often but from the way Ghost groaned as soon as he woke up, he guessed Ghost wasn’t that lucky. 

“Want me to make you breakfast?”

“Please…” Ghost groaned. “Head’s fucking killing me.” He buried his face in his hands, flexing his shoulders a little. Soap felt his mouth go dry. 

Ghost wasn’t that hot. He was just a soldier so he was a little more muscled than the average person. 

Said soldier sat up and stretched, his shirt pulled up, exposing a fair bit of his tummy before Ghost pulled it down. 

Soap had to look away and get cooking. He was surprised when Ghost lifted his mask slightly to eat, apparently too hung over to bother finding a place to hide. 

Nevermind. He was just hot. 

Strong jawline but almost no stubble despite Soap not seeing him shave, pretty mouth. He had some scars that Soap could just barely see. A Glasgow smile but also a cut across his throat like someone had tried to slit it.

“How old are you?” Soap asked, suddenly wanting to know. Ghost glanced over and his head tilted slightly.

“28. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“You?”

“24.” Soap sat on the other side of the couch, eating. 

“Little young to be a captain.”

“I was impressive.” Soap responded softly. “Didn’t matter much. Failed, right?”

Ghost was quiet for a minute before shaking his head. “Your strategy was fantastic. You were outnumbered and had no way of getting back up or resources. Nothing you could’ve done.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to comfort me.” 

Ghost looked at his plate, hands flexing again. His eyes were sad again. 

“I thought most of you guys got married by 20. You a late bloomer?” Soap decided to tease him. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly why. Though, even if Ghost was into men, it was odd he didn’t have a companion yet. 

Ghost paused. His hangover hadn’t loosened his lips that much. He glanced at Soap for a moment before looking away. “I was… betrothed once. Wasn’t for me.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

Ghost laughed. Fully. Soap didn’t understand what was funny. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve moved on. Don’t ask about it again.”

“Understood…” Soap felt like this was one of the topics that might get him killed if he pressed a little too hard. 

“You aren’t married.”

“Normal for us. Usually do it in our twenties instead of when we’re wee babs like you guys do.” Soap smiled. “Also never met anyone I’d settle down with.”

“And now you’re stuck with me. Probably best you don’t have someone waiting at home for you.” Ghost relaxed the smallest bit. 

“Worried for my hypothetical spouse that much huh?”

“Didn’t want to have them coming for my head in vengeance.” Ghost joked with him, tilting his head and exposing more of his throat. 

Soap bit his tongue. “Don’t worry. You guys captured anyone that might try. If any of them are in a similar situation to me…” He glanced at him.

Ghost had leaned in at some point. Neither noticed until now. 

“Johnny.” Soap was surprised he even knew that name. “I’d let you go if i could.”

“Liar.”

Ghost stared at him before someone knocked. “Fucking hell…” He fixed his mask. “Hide somewhere. I don’t care where, just stay out of sight.”

“Why?”

“They’re under the impression I’ve been torturing you. Obviously.”

“Why the fuck do they think that?” Soap jumped up, having the foresight to clean away the plates. 

Ghost shrugged. “They assumed I was and I just didn’t correct them.” 

Soap didn’t understand this man. “You willingly let them believe you’re a monster?”

“Johnny.” Ghost snapped and Soap snapped to action again, stepping out of the room. He lingered by the door though so he could eavesdrop. 

Ghost clearly tried to keep the person at the door, but it didn’t work. Their footsteps followed a path around the couch and Soap frowned.

“So.” There was a thick accent to the voice. “Where is MacTavish?”

“He’s down right now.” Ghost spoke differently with this person. His voice gruffer and there was no emotion to it. 

“Uh huh.” The man clearly didn’t believe him.

“Ale…”

“Ghost.” ‘Ale’ did not sound very believing of him. “Stab him or something?”

“Or something.”

There was light shuffling and Soap listened closer, trying to make it out. 

“You wear the mask during…” There was a loud smack. Gloved hand against the back of someone’s head. The man laughed. “Honest question, hermano.”

“Get fucked.”

Silence for a moment.

“I can’t stand you.” Ghost groaned, though he didn’t seem that angry. 

More laughter. “Anyway. I came to talk business with you, but if you’re busy…”

“I’ll see you later.” Ghost clearly tried to push him to the door.

“Well if you can take a break from cutting him up or whatever you’re doing long enough for me to meet him that would be great.”

“No.”

Their voices faded out of earshot. Soap listened closer before sighing as he sank down the wall.

[twistmusings]

Mod Azul I just had the craziest idea. Can I request teaching Octanaville how to drive? Just,,, Octavinelle and cars in general LMFAO??? Would their flying ability transfer to their driving ability? Have a driving playlist on hand? Would they decorate their cars? Idk bestie Floyd could be a car guy... Maybe? Would they listen to our wisened driving advice, or just ignore us? Or fail? Or just completely freak lmao. Would they prefer us driving? You dont have to answer all of that lmao, Im just having a grand ol' time imagining this. They're just so,,,, so silly. Hope ur having a slay day lol <3

I've been laughing at this idea for like a week. I hope your day is spectacular.

Teaching Octavinelle how to Drive.

CW: Don't teach a fish to drive, it will end like if you give a mouse a cookie. Unsafe driving practices.

Azul Ashengrotto

If you value your life, you will not get into a vehicle with Azul Ashengrotto.

He could probably learn how to drive very well if he wanted to, but he lumps it in with flying as a 'surface dweller' thing that he probably won't be doing for all that long, so he doesn't really care to dedicate the time to it. It's pretty common in certain parts of Twisted Wonderland to never set foot in a car, so it's really not that surprising that he hasn't ever been in one.

So he doesn't want to learn how to drive, but would he be willing to give it a shot once or twice to see what it's like? Yes.

He needs complete silence when he's trying to drive because he's focusing so hard. He looks like he might pop a blood vessel and he's white knuckle gripping the wheel. Machines like this are very uncommon under the sea in general. Trying to drive a car for him would be like the average person trying to figure out how to fly a plane. He cannot for the life of him grasp why the left turn signal and right turn signal use a lever that goes up and down? How do you tell the pedals apart? What are all the buttons on the dash?? (One of them looks like the seat with bacon on it? There a button that looks like it's supposed to rotate the car? There's a light on the dash that just says "ABS", what do abdominal muscles have to do with driving?) What in the fuck is "PRNDL"? WHY IS THE ENGINE SO LOUD?? HOW COULD LAND DWELLERS POSSIBLY LISTEN TO MUSIC WITH ALL THIS OTHER STIMULI GOING ON???

His final straw that made him swear to never get behind the wheel of a car was him jumpscaring himself with the horn. He pressed against it not even realizing it was a thing and was so embarrassed at himself that he wanted to hide.

As for being a passenger... he handles it better but not well. He's less afraid but because he's not used to being in something that moves without him being the main method of motion, he gets severe motion sickness.

Azul likes the aesthetic of cars. He thinks certain kinds look super sleek and cool. However, he could never be a car guy, and not just for the reasons listed before. He wouldn't be able to maintain it: it's too messy. Cars use a lot of oil and grease, and all of that would make it extremely frustrating for him to try and do anything with one. Even trying to refuel a car would make him feel the need to scrub his hands because the smell of gasoline is repulsive to him.

Jade Leech

If you value your life, you will not get into a vehicle with Jade Leech.

For the safety of everyone around him, Jade was forced not to get his license. He actually finds cars to be rather cool concept, and would love to drive one.

Jade cannot grasp how to drive in any serviceable way no matter how hard he tries. Something about it doesn't click with him. He brakes like he's trying to strangle his passengers, he doesn't have good speed control, and he is terrible at paying attention to if he's in drive or reverse.

Curbs are the enemy. When he hits the curb he will laugh and exclaim something to the effect of it being "like bumper cars". It should not be like bumper cars. Someone please come get him.

He takes every turn on two wheels.

He's allergic to using his turn signal.

He gets very easily distracted from driving by the buttons on the dashboard.

"It's only illegal if I get caught."

He is also a godawful passenger. He is the biggest distraction in the car because his curiosity gets the best of him and he just starts fucking around with the buttons and knobs.

As soon as he realizes he can, he cranks the AC because he likes the feeling of cold air.

Floyd Leech

If you value your life, you will not get into a vehicle with Floyd Leech.

That being said, of the three, Floyd is the only one who is sometimes a good driver. So long as he's in the right headspace for it, he can drive very safely and responsibly. It's when he decides to freestyle it that you have to worry.

No one can tell him shit. Don't even try. If he's behind the wheel it's trial and error, and that's everyone else's problem. Vehicle operation laws are a suggestion. Godspeed to the brave, brave idiots who get into the passenger seat. However, despite this, he's very quick to pick up how to do it.

He actually does better driving with music. He gets into his own zone and the music give him enough stimulation to make him be able to focus on how to drive well. Plus it makes it feel fun for longer! He could probably last close to an hour and a half in the car driving just by listening to a bunch of fun music he can groove to.

He failed his first time getting his license because he 'wasn't feeling it'. He did eventually get it though! If for no other reason than just in case he needed it in an emergency. (Also to be the get-away driver if they need one.)

He is quick with the horn. And gets just a little road rage. Not enough to get violent but he definitely gets frustrated when people are driving too slow for his tastes.

"It's only illegal if I get caught" pt. II. He's less egregious about it than Jade, though.

No, it's when Floyd is a passenger that he is an actual nightmare to deal with. Being in a car all scrunched up with his long legs and not able to move around or do what he wants? That's basically his personal hell. He gets grouchy and snappy fast, and he will start fiddling or playing around and being distracting. He'll try and stick things out the windows to watch them flap against the windows, fuck around and stick legs up on the dash, and fuck with the radio settings to see what he can find.

When it comes to tinkering on cars, Floyd has middling interest in it. He would find it fun to do it a couple of times but it's not something he would have interest in long-term.

[primalspice]

strange old bpd man (i cant look away like a car wreck)👕 2, 18, 19 📦 7, 13, 17, 🍽️ 11, 14 🌤️ 7, 10, 🤝4, 7, 17, 💓 15, 20, 🎲 6, 13, 18

thank u

👕2.) What would your character wear if they were told they had to gussy up?

I think he owns nice clothes (SHOCKING I KNOW). for special occasions of course. I think he will also really try to stretch what counts as 'formal'. But he can do it I prommy.

👕18.) Does your character have a favorite outfit?

No but if he had to choose itd probably be the nastiest one in his closet on accounts of Its Comfortable

👕19.) If your character had to get a tattoo what would it be?

I think he has some but i havent decided what/where they are. Strikes me as the type of guy to get like. hyperspecific pinup girls or like a really detailed back tattoo that no one is ever gonna see. Probably.

📦7.) Does your character ever spend more than they have?

Honestly besides college degrees, specialized "lab supplies", and the occasional Treat i dont think hes…..awful with money?? claims to live frugally so he can spend his (non)money on stuff he really cares about, is actually just bordering on being a hoarder and has a lot of confidence in his ability to pay off credit cards that hasnt failed him yet. loves the minimum-monthly-due-in-a-week Grind.

📦13.) What does your character most enjoy shopping for?

Aforementioned lab supplies. LOVES shiny new equipment that hes only gonna use once.

📦17.) What is most important to your character when shopping?

I think when he Is willing to shop for something he has an eye for the Strange And Unique. As well as quality. Somewhat bougie taste for a guy who is so…slobbish. Guy who owns a set of vintage uranium glass kitchenware but only eats off of paper plates and thrift store forks.

🍽️11.) Is your character food motivated?

NOT PRIMARILY BUT I DO THINK HE'D BE PAVLOV-ABLE INTO DOIN SOME SHIT FOR TREATS.

🍽️14.) Does your character prefer restaurant food or home cooked food?

Probably restaurant due to his aforementioned taste in unique and bougie but i think hes probably decent a home cooking?? bpd be damned my dad can work a grill.

🌤️7.) Does your character have a good sense of direction?

I think its pretty average. he can figure things out for himself usually but will navigate you in the most fucked up way possible and look at you like Youre the idiot. Kinda unrelated but i think hes a passenger princess he doesnt (cant??) drive all that often. thank god. keep him off the road.

🌤️14.) Does your character prefer hot or cold weather?

Hot but he'll complain about it either way. He's pretty much only lived in hot places besides for travel.

🤝4.) Is your character upfront about their feelings?

smiles yeah i guess (negative)

🤝7.) Who is your character most honest with?

i guess his Partner In Science since theyre forced to hang out most of the time and shes his bpd wrangler but I think hes kinda got stuff that hes kinda dishonest-by-omission with w different people. but IN GENERAL he's not particularly dishonest he'll tell it how it is even if its fucking mean or annoying. He'll blame the bluntness on being german or something.

🤝17.) How well does your character work with others?

smiles Poorly. thus why he no longer works in a big lab or academia or a side hustle or

💓15.) Does your character have a sleep routine?

Not particularly i think he just sleeps whenever he wants due to being #selfemployed. prone to nightowlism

💓20.) Is there a fear your character wants to learn to overcome?

probably but tbh idk his fears v good yet i need to disect him like a rat. his fear of khs properly tho, probably, is one. not sure why this is a trend with my ocs (warren stop using suicidality as a plot device challenge)

🎲6.) Does your character work better with creative or technical endeavors?

i think more often than not they're intertwined in his line of work but i'd say hes better at ideas (creative) than execution (technical). not bad at either tho. terrible how good this looks on paper and hes still the worst person youve ever met.

🎲13.) Has your character ever made something for themselves or someone else?

kinda vague question but of course. i think he has dabbled in plant and animal breeding/modification in his past (still thinks about it) so if you count those as Things then itd be primarily that along with other misc. projects for himself. Less questionably, i think he's also probably a guy that gives you like. a custom macrame or bracelet or shirt or whatever other gay hobby hes picked up for the week for your birthday.

🎲18.) What is a topic your character wouldn't want to talk about?

pretty much anything that hes not interested in <3 but specifically i don't think he'd want to talk about his personal life if HE wasnt the one to bring it up first bcz hes defensive and shitty. This includes the ethics of any of his work, his sperm donor babies, his mental illness, so on and so forth.

[siswritesyanderes]

Ok but yandere carlise x reader x yandere esme

(Not as detailed as I’d hoped to make it, but I quickly realized that if I went into detail then this thing would become very long. Hopefully avoided making the characters too OOC. Let me know if you like it, and how I did!)

…

You first met Dr. Cullen when you spent the day volunteering at the local hospital for one of your college classes.

There was a whole group of students there to help out, and you honestly weren’t sure why he seemed to notice you in particular; it certainly wasn’t because you were doing such a great job. Your work speed, in restocking the closets, was roughly average, and you kept having to ask your fellow volunteers where things were supposed to go. Granted, you at least weren’t one of the students who was transparently doing the absolute bare minimum to get the credit, but you wouldn’t exactly consider yourself a shining star of competence either.

Still, Dr. Cullen approached you personally to say, “Thank you for your help. You’re really doing us a great service.”

He was a beautiful man, with warm eyes that seemed to be beholding the goodness in your soul, for how amiably they glimmered.

“I don’t know if I can take any credit,” you said, admittedly flustered by the attention. “It was our teacher’s idea.”

He smiled kindly. “Nevertheless, we’re glad to have you here.”

You smiled back. “Glad to be here.” Then you continued working.

When Carlisle walked away from you, he carefully kept the reluctance from showing in his expression. He sent Esme a quick text warning her that they might have another soulmate in town: a human. His initial thought was that this would be the end of it; so long as Esme avoided meeting you, she wouldn’t feel the awful desperation currently clawing its way up Carlisle’s throat, and so long as Esme wasn’t suffering, Carlisle was confident in his own ability to let you live your own life, just as he had done with Esme, at first…

But then, he knew how that had turned out for her: years of pain, mistreatment…The thought of anything of the sort befalling you…The world was so dangerous, between humans and vampires and other such things, and you, so small in comparison, so vulnerable…

Carlisle regained his composure (though, to the untrained eye, he hadn’t lost it in the first place). The world could be dangerous, yes, but his awareness of that fact was informed, in no small part, by the fact that he wanted justification for keeping you. And he couldn’t give himself such license; it wouldn’t be right.

He wouldn’t drag you away from your human life.

Perhaps he could keep watch over you, and do you small favors every now and then, but that was the most he could afford to indulge.

He heard your stomach growl from across the room; he detoured to a vending machine and bought you a light snack. (Perfectly timed, Alice texted him your preference. No doubt, she was scouring the future to see how you might fit into it; he would have to have a talk with her, to be sure she didn’t go overboard. And deciding to have a talk with Alice functioned in the same way having a talk with Alice did.)

Dr. Cullen handed you a snack from the vending machine, which puzzled you at first; it didn’t seem like the hospital was handing out food to anyone else, and even if they were, why would one of the doctors take the time for such a thing?

He answered your unspoken question with a polite smile and the words, “You were looking a bit faint; I thought you might need this.”

Had you been looking unwell? You didn’t think you felt that bad, but a doctor would recognize the signs if something was wrong, and you were pretty hungry. “Thanks,” you said, and he dipped his head in your direction. Then he and his kind smile departed.

That wasn’t the last time you met Dr. Cullen.

Your paths crossed in all sorts of places: in the grocery store, he tapped you on the shoulder once to ask if you’d dropped a hundred dollar bill, and he urged you to keep it even once you’d told him it wasn’t yours; you saw him in your school’s science building, one day (He was there to speak to one of the professors, and he asked you if you had drunk any water recently.); and you even ran into him at the library. All incidents spaced out over weeks; not close enough together to really be coincidences worth thinking about. You figured that you had probably crossed paths just as much before meeting him, but only noticed now because you knew who he was.

Anyway, the two of you remained acquaintances. He was a nice man.

When someone slammed into your car, a few months later, he was the doctor who cared for you.

“A hit and run?” he murmured, tutting in displeasure as he moved a light across your eyes. “People should be more considerate, and careful with other people’s lives. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“They probably just made a mistake and were scared of the consequences,” you offered, because the doctor genuinely seemed somewhat upset. You were trying to assume the best about the other driver, because the alternative was getting angry about something you couldn’t change. You had barely even seen the car that had hit you. You just knew that it was some shade of yellow, and apparently much stronger than yours. “I wish we’d gotten to trade insurance information or something, though; my car is apparently totaled.” Despite your best efforts, your voice wavered.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Dr. Cullen said, and you were probably delirious, but something about the decisive way he said it made it seem, to you, as if he himself planned on helping you get your car fixed. “Follow the light with your eyes.”

You did.

“Have you...” The doctor seemed to choose his words carefully. “Have you called anyone, to let them know what happened, and that you’re alright?”

“No, I guess I haven’t. The ambulance got there so fast, I guess I didn’t have time to think about it.” You weren’t terribly concerned, though; if your relatives hadn’t been made aware of the crash, then they didn’t know to be worried yet. No need to call them now.

Dr. Cullen stilled at your words, though; the light in his hands shone in the spot between your eyes and did not move. It was as if he was deep in thought. No, as if he were at war with himself.

“Dr. Cullen?” you prompted.

He quickly smiled, setting down the light. “I think you should call them. Now, if you can. I would...just feel better if someone knew where you are, and that you’re alive.”

You called them (as awkward as that felt with the doctor right there in the room, patiently waiting), and Dr. Cullen seemed to relax.

Once you were released from the hospital, you went back to only seeing him every once in a while, around town.

Your car was mended seemingly overnight, under mysterious circumstances, and a part of you jokingly wondered if Dr. Cullen was some sort of fairy godmother, or guardian angel.

Then, another month after your accident, a stranger approached you while you were walking back from your last class of the evening.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted you, somewhat apologetically. She was shorter than you, with a lovely face and spiky black hair and a spritely disposition. “I’m Alice. I’m so sorry to bother you, but could you help me carry something to my car? It’s getting late, and I really don’t want to be here after dark.”

“Oh, sure,” you answered, feeling so at ease that you forgot every warning that would normally flood to your mind about the danger of following a stranger to her car. So at ease that your mind somehow just failed to observe the taller guy standing right next to Alice, well in your field of vision. You saw him, but you didn’t really think much of him.

You followed Alice to a bright yellow Porsche, and the shade of yellow stirred something in your memory, but you couldn’t say what; you were too busy looking for what you were supposed to be helping her lift.

A lovely woman with a long blond ponytail leaned against the car trunk, staring at something that she was holding in her hand, and there was a figure sitting inside the car, too; you couldn’t see them through the tinted windows, but you saw enough to be confused as to why you had been called here to help when it seemed Alice had many potential helpers, here.

Your panic, as you began to realize the ruse, had only just begun to climb when the blond woman suddenly moved, swift as a bird, behind you, and there was a hand over your mouth and a feeling like a pinch in the side of your neck.

The thing she was holding. It was a syringe.

The tall guy (the one you hadn’t thought much of, at first) moved to open the nearest door of the Porsche; he moved the passenger seat forward, to access the back row of seats.

“Wait, stop,” you slurred against the hand (the stunningly cold hand) over your mouth, as the woman who had syringed you began to maneuver you into the Porsche with surprising strength. You were already losing control of your limbs.

“This is officially the worst thing I’ve ever done,” the woman griped as she slid you carefully inside, then climbed in behind you. You were sandwiched between her and the person you’d seen through the tinted windows: a sulking young man with bronze hair. Four strangers total, and you were in the back seat of their car.

“Thank you, Rosalie, for your help,” Alice said resolutely. “Will you drive, Jazz?”

The tall one nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat while Alice occupied the passenger side.

You struggled to find your voice, or your fists, through the haze of sedative.

“It’s okay,” said the sulking young man at your side, in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m able to hear you, even if you can’t speak. I can read minds.”

“The human is still awake?” Rosalie said.

“Not for much longer, but yes. You have time to apologize.”

“Sorry about all this,” Rosalie said, gently nudging your mouth closed (as it had fallen open). “Don’t be scared; we just…have to bring you to Carlisle and Esme. They’re pretty great people, and they’ll treat you really well. And these guys were going to do it anyway, so I had to come and make sure things went smoothly. Alice and Jasper can’t even administer a shot; they probably would have chloroformed you or something-”

“Wouldn’t’ve had to,” said the tall guy in the driver’s seat- Jasper, apparently. “Could’ve just lightly flicked the back of their head at the right angle. Provided Alice checked the future to make sure we did it right.”

“…and didn’t cause a concussion, or worse,” the bronze-haired one deadpanned.

There was a brief silence. You were sinking against the self-proclaimed mind reader, unable to support your own weight. You were about to sleep. You actually wanted to sleep.

“Don’t worry, Rose,” Jasper added. “I’ve made sure the human isn’t afraid.”

You supposed you weren’t. Why weren’t you?

You fell asleep before you could figure it out.

…

You awoke to the sound of agitated voices, outside the (closed) door of a bedroom that was not your own.

You were in a bed, and it was obscenely soft and pleasant, but it wasn’t yours, and you weren’t home.

Where am I?

You felt weak, and tired. Heavy, confused. But you had to stay awake, and regain your wits, because you had been taken somewhere, and you didn’t know where or why. There was a window across the room. It was nighttime outside the window. Maybe if you could make it over there, you could climb out and run for it, but you didn’t yet have the strength to even get the bedcovers off of you.

“Because it’s been awful to watch how badly it affects you to be away from your mate,” one of the voices outside the door was saying. “All five of us agreed, and we never agree on anything!”

“And it’s not like it wouldn’t have happened eventually,” another voice agreed. “Just like with Esme.”

“Exactly! You were only prolonging your own suffering, for no reason.”

There was a sigh, and a familiar voice said, “Are you all finished?” It was Dr. Cullen; that much you knew, even though you had never heard him sound so tired.

“We did it for you, because you deserve happiness.”

“And now that Esme has seen them, there is no way to undo it, is there?” Dr. Cullen asked rhetorically. “Edward, is the human awake?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll bring some food up, Carlisle,” an entirely new voice suggested. “The children have been…underhanded, today, but there’s no reason we shouldn’t make the best of it.”

“It was for the best.” (Your head was clear enough, now, that you recognized this unabashed voice as belonging to Alice.) “You’ll see.”

Footsteps approached the door, and shortly a woman entered the room. She was soft-looking, with caramel brown hair, and she held a dinner plate in her hands.

“Good evening,” she said, soberly. Sitting on the edge of your bed while you struggled to sit up. “I’m so sorry the kids did this; we didn’t ask them to, but they thought they were doing us a service. I’m Esme Cullen, Dr. Cullen’s wife. Here: eat something.”

You ate a forkful of pasta only because it was too close to your mouth to refuse. “Why ‘m I here?” you asked hoarsely. “Take me home.” Another forkful slid into your mouth.

“I’m very sorry,” Esme said. “I’m so, so sorry, but you see…the trouble is…” Her eyes scanned over you, and she smiled a seemingly involuntary smile and didn’t finish her sentence. As if looking at you was simply a much better use of her time.

“I want to go home,” you said.

Esme sighed, pressing her lips together contritely. “The trouble is, I can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to Carlisle, and Carlisle can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to me. I promise you, though, we will make it up to you.” She fed you more pasta.

It tasted delicious, but that did nothing to assuage your terror. “You don’t even know me. What do you mean, I’m important to you?”

Esme clicked her tongue softly and rhythmically against the roof of her mouth, as if to soothe. “Carlisle can explain that better than I. But rest assured, everything is going to be alright.”

Your skin crawled, at the dissonant cordiality. “Where is Dr. Cullen?”

You heard a flutter of what could have been footsteps, if people were capable of moving that fast. Then, the bedroom door opened again and Dr. Cullen entered.

“Hello again, dear heart,” he greeted you, and his demeanor was about the same as it was in public, or in the hospital. Respectful, polite. Maybe just a bit...off. Too much of something, maybe too polite and kind for the circumstances. “I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”

The apologies were making this worse. “You don’t have to be sorry,” you said. “Just please take me home.”

“I can’t do that, angel,” he sighed. He did appear sorry, but not as sorry as he should have. “But I can explain everything to you now.”

He sat down on the other side of the bed, opposite Esme, who was still feeding you. And he did explain everything, in such expansive detail that you fell back asleep before he even got to the part about mates.

…

“You can pretend with them, but not with me.” The voice was quiet, and not so much accusatory (despite the pointedness of his words) as reminding.

“I know that, son.” Dr. Cullen sounded positively serene.

“You knew how much time you were spending with Jasper, in your saddened state.”

“Yes.”

“You knew that we would do this.”

“I…suspected.”

“You meant for us to do this.”

“That’s enough, I think. Thank you.”

Silence fell.

You opened your eyes just a crack. The pillow beneath your face was awash with yellow light; the sun had risen, since last you’d fallen asleep. None of it had been a dream. You were still trapped in a house with these people who thought they were vampires. You closed your eyes again. The two voices had been speaking from the direction you were facing: Dr. Cullen at your level, perhaps in a chair at your bedside; and the other above, as if standing.

“One month,” the first voice suddenly added, and you weren’t sure what it was in reference to. It was as if an inaudible question was being answered.

“That’s her optimistic guess, or her pessimistic?” Dr. Cullen inquired.

“If all goes well, it will be one month. Poorly, and the longest she’s seen is three months.”

“Well, that is good to hear. I’ve waited much longer with hope for much less.”

“I know.”

You turned over, so that your back was to them, and began to open your eyes again, but then you heard Dr. Cullen rise from his seat, take up the chair, and move around the foot of the bed. You kept your eyes shut as he set his chair down on the new side and sat in it once more. He did all of this matter-of-factly, as if he’d changed sides every time you’d turned over during the night.

The thought of anyone wanting to see your face that badly made you shiver a bit.

“Awake?” Dr. Cullen inquired casually. You didn’t hear an answer, but the other man must have nodded, because Dr. Cullen continued, “Good. Esme will be done with breakfast soon. She’s so happy to be cooking again.”

“Jasper is in the kitchen with her,” the other said, as if that was a related statement somehow. “I’m going hunting. Good luck.”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt as if he was talking to you as much as Dr. Cullen.

[obsessive-ego]

Jack it to a jacket nsft

Masterbation, voyeurism, you know how I am

Musical beetlejuice x fem reader (reader has a vagina but uses they them pronouns)

Beetlejuice forgets his jacket and you use it while he's gone

Beetlejuice had announced to you he had to spend a few days in the netherworld for bio exorcist meeting or something, you really didnt get it, it's not like he actually had a job, all you knew is that he's been complaining about it since day one. That he had to leave the world of the living for a bit.

The day finally came for him to head out for his little business trip, you could tell the ghoul was less then thrilled to go, slight purple streaks graced his hair, you knew he wasnt too keen on being in the netherworld, the demon had such a fascination with the living, an adoration for living with you, going back to the netherworld, even for a few days was like heading back to work after a long period off, soul sucking.

"Alright Sugar" he starts adjusting his tie, his jacket resting on the arm of the couch "I'll be gone for a few days, try not to miss me too much~"

You give the ghoul a soft smile "itll be quieter for sure"  you try to joke

"Yeah..." he trails off, his playful teasing voice dropping along with his grin.

"I know this is gonna suck, but the sooner you get it started the sooner it's over with" you try to cheer him up giving the demon a light punch in the arm.

Beetlejuice's hue was now completely purple, you frown at the sight.

"You know doll, I'm being awfully selfish here, but, how bout ya give me a little sugar before I go?~"

You flinch at the suggestion, you wouldnt say you were shocked at this request, but you were.

"You're stalling"

"Come on babes, humor me, I gotta fill out paper work and deal with my mother, could REALLY use a pick me up~" he nudges you gently and gives a wink, hoping it'll soften you up, it does.

"Fine" you huff out, you grab the demon by the suspenders, yanking him to you level giving him a quick peck.

"No tongue on the first date?~" he snickers, as pink patches pop up in his mossy beard.

"...have a good trip" you utter trying to hide your embarrassment

"Oh doll I will, thinking about your soft lips~" the demon's voice drops to that low growl that never failed to make you warm in your lower areas

"Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Bee-"

You could NEVER make it to 3, the ghoul was always quick to slap a hand to your mouth, pulling you into a side hug.

"Trying to kick me out so soon sugar? So mean~" he chuckles, the ghoul pulls his hand from your mouth and you sigh.

Beetlejuice pauses holding you in this awkward side hug for a few minutes

"Bee?"

"I know" he grumbles, he begrudgingly pulls away

The ghoul makes his way to the empty wall and draws his entrance.

Knock

Knock

Knock

Your living room wall opens up to the netherworld, it was always a rare sight to you, a little anxiety inducing, you freeze for a moment, but as the demon steps into the world of the dead you shout

"Wait!"

Beetlejuice turns to you

"You forgot something"

The demon's eyes light up and in a flash he was infront of you, his hands cup your face as he slams his lips into yours, you jolt in surprise, as the ghoul pulls away he purrs "almost forgot my second goodbye kiss, thanks doll" and just like that he was gone, the netherworld was out of sight and you were alone.

"Your jacket" you whisper still alittle dizzy from his kiss.

...

The jacket he left behind spent a few hours folded neatly on the couch as you go about your alone time. Everytime beetlejuice was away you always took the opportunity to get some chores done, you liked the demon yeah, but he always got under foot, or he would be creepy while you tried to get things done. There were times where you were just doing the laundry, and the demon would just stare at you, no words, he just sat atop the dryer watching you like a hawk as you loaded the washer, it made your skin crawl and your stomach turn to have that much attention put on you, hell, you'd rather him be lewd and annoying then that.

As creepy as he was, that was just who he was, and you loved him, his awful charms, his terrible jokes, and his over all handsome, to you, look, wormed it's way into your heart and refused to let go.

Every kiss, every grope, every pet name he gave you dug you deeper into your affection. Though you were too terrified to confront him about your feelings, he was a literal demon, could he even share these feelings, let alone would he like you the same way, all in all you didnt want to ruin what the two of you had, friends, good friends.

You missed him, you really did, so what was the harm in wearing his coat, just around the house, and maybe smelling it every now and again, that wasnt too weird right? And it would be fine if you were to fall asleep wearing it right? There was no harm in it, but if beetlejuice was to pop in unexpectedly and if he say you wearing it casually youd never hear the end of it, and yet you never took it off.

It's been a few days since beetlejuice left for the netherworld, you were relaxing on your bed looking at memes trying to ignore how much you missed a certain undead bastard, hell you were wearing the jacket he left behind and stealing a small sniff here and there, beetlejuice never really gives you a time frame as to when he'd be back whenever he goes to the netherworld.

'Time moves differently when you're dead, and boy does it move, but it slows down when I'm with you babes' you shiver and try to swallow the lump in your throat that memory caused, the undead bastard was such a flirt.

You grew a tad lonely without your favorite dead guy, yes you used to live alone before beetlejuice barged his way into your home, but you have gotten used to him, you miss him when he's not with you, especially his no concept of personal space, how the ghoul's hands always found a home on your body, your hips, your waist, your shoulders.

You feel a familiar pulse between your legs, you try and ignore it, though your mind was reeling with old memories of beej touching you, you werent even scrolling through your phone anymore, just staring at the screen, thinking of the demon's strong callused hands running up and down your thighs.

"You win" you grumble sliding off your bed and crouching next to it, you pull out a little tool box. Opening the little box and revealing an average sized bright green vibrator brandishing a nice bulbous tip. You push the button on the toy's base and it buzzes to life, you smile, glad to see the barriers were still alive, it was too late for you to run out and get replacements.

You shimmy out of your pajama pants and panties before you hop back up on the bed. You remove the jacket giving it a deep inhale of its scent before placing it down next to you.

...

Your living room walls silently open up, letting in a thick fog of green reavling your demon friend, the ghoul knew it was late, late enough that his sweet little y/n should be dead asleep, as your living room rearranges itself back to normal the ghoul floats to your bedroom, excited to come snuggle up to your soft warm body after what felt like an eternity with dealing with his mother and newly deads with no sense of humor.

"Ah!"

The ghoul freezes at the sound, standing in front of your closed bedroom door, you could be? He presses an ear to the door, the faint sound of buzzing and muffled moans could be herd.

In a flash Beetlejuice's hair and moss on his face turns electric pink.

"A welcome home present? For me? Oh dolly~" he whispers before snapping his fingers and camouflaging himself. Beetlejuice fazed through the door and froze at the sight of you, yes he has seen you touch yourself before, but this?

There you were Laying on your bed, propped up by pillows, shirt pulled up exposing your breasts, bottom half completely bare, pumping the vibrator he got you (as an apology for messing with your old one) in and out of your leaking pussy, with your face buried in his jacket, muffling your whining.

The ghoul could have blown his load from the sight alone, yes he knew you liked him, and yes he knows you want him, but this? This was dirty, this was naughty, smelling his clothes and jerking off? You were just as horny as him, not really, no one is, but he'll take this.

"And here I thought only I had a scent fetish" he chuckles making his way to the end of the bed, plopping down to get a good view of your soaked vigina, he was fixated on the speed you pumped the toy in and out of you. Beetlejuice fumbled with his fly, pulling out his semi, the ghoul licks the palm of his hand, coding it is a nice layer of saliva before wrapping it around his cock. Beetlejuice starts off slowly, but it isnt long until his pace matches yours, imagining the toy between your legs was him, god slash satan he envied that peice of silicon.

"Beetlejuice" you whine bucking your hips up to meet the vibrator as it slid back in, you take another deep inhale of the jacket's scent and whine, beetlejuice groans in response.

"Such a dirty little thing, fuck- I expected to come home and see ya sleeping it in, ah- but this? Oh babes, I would have left it behind months ago to, oh god- to see you like this" the ghoul babbled, he really didnt want to finish before you, he wanted to enjoy this show for as long as possible.

You were absolutely lost in your little activity, using you non dominant hand to hold the demon's jacket to your nose, the scent drove you wild, you could imagine beetlejuice driving his cock into you over and over again, the idea of him fully dressed fucking you while you were completely naked made you tremble.

“Oh my god Bee, fuck, yes, please, fucking oh my god I want you to…Beetlejuice fuck…” you babble as you begin to pick up pace with the vibrator.

The ghoul drools at the show you oh so kindly are giving him, hearing you moan out his name, oh how he loved that sound, it wasnt the first time beetlejuice herd you moan out his name during your 'alone time' but it still made his toes curl as though it was.

Beetlejuice growls through his teeth, he was almost there, seeing you use his jacket in such a way was better than he ever could’ve imagined, yes he dreamed of you using his things for sexual satisfaction, he just thought he'd never see it.

Beetlejuice found that trying to keep the pace with you was growing too hard, he needed to finish, he needed you to finish. He didn’t want to cum before you, he needed to see you cum while using his jacket, he needed the image of you using his things to cum to be carved into his brain.

Thankfully, Beej is good at edging, this wasnt his first day being a peeping Tom, and it wont be the last, it wasnt easy, but he could do it, watching you whine and buck your hips because of him, sure made it a challenge though.

You were almost there, you stop pumping the toy, only for a second, to crank the vibrations to the higher setting, your hips jolt up as you press the jacket against your face muffling your screams, with the intensity up you were ready for the home stretch, you begin to move the toy again, in and out, imagining it was the ghoul you oh so loved. You could just imagine beetlejuice pressing you into the mattress with every thrust, all the dirty things he'd be saying to you, praising you for how well you take his fat cock, growling, biting, you couldn't take it anymore, you felt like you were gonna explode. God you wanted that smug bastard so badly, you loved him so much, you moved the hand holding the jacket against you face and brought it to your vagina, as one hand pumped the vibrator the other played with your clit. You groan through your teeth at the added simulation, if only you could see the demon infront of you.

Beetlejuice sat before you, jaw dropped, tongue hanging, drool dripping down his chin, panting. His cock was throbbing, leaking pre cum, he was ready to burst, honestly he surprised he hasn't yet, watching his y/n go to town on their pussy. Beetlejuice watched ad you hips bounced, and your toes curled, he could finally get a good look at your face, you were tearing up.

"Feels good doesnt babes? Wait till you get the real deal~"

"LAWRENCE!"  You shout as your hips buck upwards, just then, something new happened, you squirted, thought you didnt notice, you were too busy, head lulled back, panting, and using the soft buzzing of the vibrator to ride out your orgasm.

But beetlejuice on the other hand saw, he saw you squirt when you called him, when you called him by his first name, a name you rarely used. The demon blew his load shortly after your little finale, an image that will always be treasured by him. Beetlejuice wipes the cum off his hand on his pant leg, and slides his now soft cock back into his pants. He watches you lay there for a moment before you gingerly sit up, reaching forward to turn off the vibrator and remove it from you, you flinch doing so, still tender. You give out a yawn and toss the toy on the floor mumble how you'll deal with it in the morning, adjusting your shirt to cover hour chest you slide under the covers, in minutes you were asleep, holding his jacket oh so tightly.

Beetlejuice envied the garment, and as much as the ghoul wanted to slide in next you now, he couldnt, you were naked from the waist down. But you did leave him a tasty snack, so he couldnt be mad at you. Beetlejuice snatches up the freshly used vibrator, still warm from your touch, and vanishes

"Good night y/n" his voice purrs in your ears,

"...Lawrence..."

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Brothers and Side Characters Play Ticket To Ride

Guess who just had a family game night and decided this would be a good idea? Meeeeee!

Last Minute Road/Track Buyer (Lucifer)

This smug son of a bitch doesn’t even complete his trip cards. He just amasses a massive deck of cards and then buys all of the five and six roads, effectively messing up everyone’s strategies.

Luci would have a good poker face if it weren’t for how giddy he gets when he sees the hope drain from his opponents faces as he takes the coveted fifteen point six road.

His main colour is black because he’s an emo bitch.

Lucifer can and Lucifer will take that two road you need to connect your trains, thus ruining everyone’s lives.

He basks in the chaos and rage like a god before Beel tells him that he’s eaten all the game night chips.

He’ll win sometimes, but his lack of trip cards will often be his downfall. Lucifer is just here to fuck everyone over.

FUCK YOU! DON’T YOU DARE TAKE THAT CARD- (Mammon)

Mammon’s greedy little heart sank when he heard that Monopoly had been passed over for family game night, but he caught onto the rules of Ticket to Ride very quickly.

Being the gambler he is, Mammon’s poker face is completely god-tier… except when he has all the cards needed to make his road or someone else takes the cards he needs.

Levi is often the main culprit and fights have started over this.

He argues with the rules a lot if he thinks they’re stupid, this gives Satan a migraine.

Mammon doesn’t save his cards, the moment he has all the ones he needs, he’s buying his road, which is good at the beginning, but often leads to him ending up with no cards by the end.

He is SO insufferable when he wins, please beat him so we don’t have to hear him gloat like an asshole.

Rule-Whore (Leviathan)

“That’s against the rules!” “You can’t have more than three wild cards in the draw pile!” “You need to take three trip cards!”

…so annoying…

Levi is such a rule whore he’ll try and take the instructions from Satan, which will usually result in Levi getting socked in the jaw.

He mains blue because obviously.

Levi tends to plan out his route ahead of time, but he makes it too obvious and his roads end up getting sniped, thus rendering all the cards he had amassed completely useless.

He gets super iffy about his trains being in perfect formation both on and off the board.

Beat his ass for being annoying.

Ha! I’ve Planned for This- Aw Fuck…(Satan)

You fool, you stupid human, Satan had planned out his route ten years before the first turn even happened!

All he has to do now is- DID LUCIFER JUST SNIPE HIS FUCKING ROAD?!

…he’s cool, he’s calm. He can work around this. Satan just has to get the cards he needs- SON OF A BITCH MAMMON WHY’D YOU TAKE BOTH THE ORANGES?!

Worried about your asshole fellow players not giving you your points? Fret not, Satan has everyone’s points memorized and will adjust accordingly. He’s winning this fair and square.

Satan manages to win pretty frequently solely because he picks up so many trip cards and completes a good chunk of them.

Satan mains green because I said so.

Annoying Spectator (Asmodeus)

For the love of God Asmo, you aren’t even playing! Shut up and go away!

He leans over people’s shoulders and criticizes their choices like the world’s most annoying guardian angel… or demon.

“Pick up red.” “Asmo, piss off.” “I’m just trying to help, Belphie! Look, Mammon’s gone and taken your road!” “I DIDN’T EVEN NEED THAT ONE!”

When Asmo does play, he doesn’t play well at all, he just has the worst luck with cards and has the worst poker face.

If someone just took a card that Asmo needed, they are going to get glared at from across the table.

Almost never wins, but when he does, he’s INSUFFERABLE.

“It’s so nice to have the family together :)” (Beel)

Sweet man is just happy everyone’s together, he’s also happy about the multiple party size bags of chips that are on the table.

Beel builds his roads from point A to point B, no fancy skipping or strategies. This often serves him quite well because he can just shift where he’s going on the fly.

Though, he does get confused on where some of the locations are, he’ll end up accidentally cheating and looking at people’s cards when he leans over to see the whole board to try and find out where TF he’s going.

He tries to complete every trip card he has, and he mostly succeeds at that, buuuuut he never thinks to pick up more, which is his downfall.

He mains red, because Duh.

Overall, Beel’s a surprisingly formidable opponent, his resting bitch face serves him well.

“*Snrk* H-huh? What the fuck… what’d I knock over? Where am I? Whose turn is it?” (Belphie)

This little shit- THIS LITTLE BASTARD FUCKS EVERYTHING UP. He falls asleep and when anyone wakes him up for his turn, he “accidentally” knocks everyone’s trains off the board.

He’s doing terribly. Don’t help him.

Belphie loses motivation the moment someone ruins his carefully formulated plan, and making a new one’s too much work so… *snore*

He takes what he can get with the trip cards, he’ll complete the smaller ones and kind of eyeball the big ones and make it up as he goes along if everything goes to shit.

If Belphie gets bored, he’ll purposefully break the rules just to piss of Levi and Satan. He’s a little goblin…

Belphie wins when he puts the work in… which is never.

…Wait what? (Diavolo)

Diavolo is literally the worst at this game at first. He’s picking up two wild cards when he’s not supposed to, he’s buying roads when it’s not his turn, he somehow messed up the points, ugh…

He gets really confused about the rules, he’ll often interrupt people mid-turn to ask a question that spirals into a long explanation.

But when he finally understands the game… May the demon king have mercy on your souls…

He goes from zero to hero and crushes everyone without fail.

It doesn’t matter if he had shitty luck in the beginning because he’s come back to completely ruin your entire route.

Oh, Solomon needed that road? Too bad. It belongs to Diavolo now. Give him his fucking points.

Peace between the realms can wait, he’s got noobs to pwn.

The Wise Mentor (Barbatos)

Barbatos can see the future, he’s cheating by default.

When he sort of… turns off his powers, people still think he’s cheating because he’s just that good at guessing where people need to go and crushing their hopes and dreams.

Except for Luke. Barbatos is teaching him how to be as brutal a player as he is. He will not crush Luke.

As good a player as Barbatos is, one bad trip card will crush his entire strategy. This may be the one time you hear him swear.

It’s a very quiet “son of a bitch..”

Cheater. Asshole. Fight instigator. (Solomon)

Okay who the fuck invited this guy?

Better question, who the fuck let him be in charge of the cards?

Solomon cheats and lies about it, all with a smile on his face. Think you caught him? No you didn’t.

He peeks at cards before he grabs them, gives people the worst possible ones for what they’re doing, AND he gets potato chip grease all over the cards!

When he’s no my allowed to cheat, Solomon’s only half decent at the game overall. Luck is usually on his side, but sometimes luck isn’t enough.

0/10 kick his shifty ass out.

“No, stop,” *Pulls out popcorn* “Don’t fight, oh no.” (Simeon)

Fucking Simeon… he sits back and watches the fight even though he knows he can stop it.

When he’s playing the actual game, he’s pretty average, but when he gets on a roll, oh boy…

He doesn’t snipe roads on purpose, but he’s gotta get where he’s going. Sorry not sorry, may the good lord bless your loser ass.

Sexy shoulder-man’s poker face isn’t anything special, it’s 5/7 overall.

Simeon’s fatal flaw is that he picks up cards only when he needs them, he doesn’t plan ahead, so it’s super easy to swipe the cards he needs before his turn.

He is nice enough to move everyone’s points for them^.^ so he’s better than the rest of those dirty sinners.

“NO PLEASE I NEED THAT ROAD-” (Luke)

So you know how everyone is an awful person? This is proven whenever the gang plays Ticket to Ride with Luke.

Luke demands/begs that no one takes the roads he needs and almost no one listens.

It’s heartbreaking to watch please give the little angel a hug.

But listen, listen, after a bit, Luke gets scary good at the game and very close to winning. His little victory dance is so fucking cute 10/10.

But oh my… it appears that Luke has one tiny road he needs to connect his trains… it would be a shame if Lucifer just… took that.

Luke gets petty, he just puts his hand over the spot and refuses to move it. This goes on for like five minutes until Levi brings up that it’s not even Lucifer’s turn.

Gasp! Hope! It’s Solomon’s turn- HE TOOK THE FUCKING ROAD.

…betrayal.

Luke’s moving out. He can’t go back to Purgatory Hall. He’s going to become the little Victorian street urchin he was destined to become. He is packing his little rucksack and fleeing from this household.

————

I love family game nights… all of you should get together with your family and your squad and break out some board games. Just not Monopoly. Anything but Monopoly…

[clockworklozenges]

So, a good five or so years back, I played in one of the best worst DnD games I have ever been in. The DM had bought the Libris Mortis book, which, if you were unaware, was a 3.5 splatbook adding in a lot of undead stuff, including some monsters and undead player races and stuff. Wanting to try it out, me and my gaming group decided to play things from it, our then DM deciding to run a completely homebrewed session. This proved to be a...

Terrible Idea™

(for the uninitiated, never homebrew something you do not fully understand unless it's just cosmetic. If you want to make all elves worship the god of garlic bread, Ultimo-Metatron-Omega, go ahead, but unless you know how the game works, don't make mechanical changes). So we all picked stuff from the books-one player played a skeleton Sorcerer who in life was a tribal shaman, but an attempt at healing went wrong, turning him undead as his life energy was replaced with negative energy, explaining why most of his spells were necromancy and suchlike.

Another player played Krug, an antipaladin in very spiky full plate. He was a zombie made by a necromancer of a paladin who was fighting him, but his allies killed his would-be master before he could assert control, and not wanting to just off him, his allies just...yeeted his body into a portal and hoped it'd re-kill him. It did not kill him hard enough. It did, however, explain his stats which...oof. He had already got debuffs to some stats due to being a zombie, and rolled abysmally. Fortunately for the player, he played mostly to socialise, so didn't much care.

I played... Count Nox Feratu, the Campire. As in, a vampire with a very camp German accent, which I did not break for the whole time I was playing him. To the point where "ach, nein, I haf bin heet! Heal me, meine freunde!" was par for the course. My overly camp vamp was a wizard, but due to level adjustment was a bit of a shoddy one. For backstory, he'd been ousted from his clan for ineptitude, and had sworn revenge. I was going for a swordmage build but never got there. All his spells were utility or just necromancy spells.

Our last player played...sigh...Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of Nerull, God of murder and undeath. He was one of the clerics from the book's murder Domain, meaning that he got buffs to damage. He was a vicious arse both in character and out of it, and was so dripping with edge compared to the paladin with the same IQ as a horse after its trip to the glue factory, the shaman who thought killing fixed people and the Campire that if you gave him a pat on the back you'd have finely diced your hand into a red mist. Not going too outlandish with his backstory of wanting to dominate the world as his undead thralls, Damien F***ing Bloodmoon had only taken spells which either charmed live people, dealt negative energy damage or messed with ability drain and suchlike, which he used with aplomb on townsfolk on our way to our objective. He was also, importantly, playing an elf of some sort, I forget which kind. Meaning that of the party, only one was alive.

So, just as an aside, for those of you that haven't played 3.5e DnD or have only played 5e, in Libris Mortis, undeath was gone over in detail, and had a litany of pros and cons. For one thing, undead had only the HP they had-folks like Damien F***ing Bloodmoon could be 'dying', and had some time to be stabilised before meeting the reckoning of Papa John and dying proper. Undead did not, it was just how much you had and if you ran out, poof, you're dust, bones and fertiliser again. You were also harmed by positive energy, so healing spells hurt you, as did potions of healing. However, undead were kind of hardy - poison immunity, some had resistance to non-magical melee damage, stuff that drained your ability scores and levels didn't work on them, some crits wouldn't do extra damage, and the best part- negative energy healed undead. Meaning all the spells our party had which damaged others like the living Damien Bloodmoon were curative ones for us. Keep this in mind.

So, we began our quest, learning of a necromancer a nearby town was plagued by. After using our skills (to whit: Damien Bloodmoon charming and drawing the life force out of random villagers and the only potion seller in the town whilst we went shopping. Krug got a snazzy hat, which we put on top of his helmet, and we chatted to townsfolk as I looked alive enough to pass as human and the shaman had a fake beard and toupee that people were too awkward to point out was fake so went along with it) we learn that the necromancer has a base of operations in the cemetery. "Oh ja, zo original, dahlink. Ve vill need to educate zis guy on vhat is chic and vhat is just shabby!"

So we head there and the nightmare begins. Damien Leads the charge, using all of his knowledge to deduce that the shambling horde moving towards us were stronger-than-your-average-bear undead, and he was right. These were powerful armoured zombie mages of some sort, casting ability draining spells, negative energy ray spells and even having auras of negative energy that dealt damage on a failed Fortitude save. Even their punch and quarterstaves did negative energy damage as well as the usual bludgeoning or unarmed. However...only one of us was really in danger and the DM's face fell when the squishy casters walked up and began shanking their super-special homebrew zombie wizards, being healed by the damage of their attacks as we cut them down.

Like I said, one of the benefits of undeath is that negative energy actually heals you. So the strikes of the magic staves and punches that hit us did some basic damage. Which was then immediately healed by the negative energy their weapon strikes and spells were doing.

However, you'll recall that Damien Bloodmoon was an elf. And not dead. Being a Cleric of a death god doesn't mean that you have the abilities of an undead. That meant that even with the DM being merciful, by the end of the first fight he was covered in blood, mud and withered away to just above half his original strength and constitution. More were patrolling, so we had to run. But that posed a problem.

Remember Krug had heavy armour? And recall his awful stats? He in fact, hadn't got enough strength to wear the armour he'd been given for backstory. He didn't, according to the DM, have enough to remove his own armour. And we attempted to, but also failed our checks according to the DM. And Damien Bloodmoon refused to help, simply blaming Krug and his player. Krug's player thought it was hilarious, and Krug only had enough Intelligence and Wisdom to say his own name, so saw no problem. And Krug, Nox Feratu and Shaman realised that there really...wasn't a problem.

For us, at least.

We slogged through three combats dragging Krug and wading through the mud with him. His speed was so slow that for every step he took, we took about ten. The DM was confused and infuriated that his encounters weren't working, but refused to change them. So we had fun role-playing. Or at least three of us did.

Damien Bloodmoon refused to roleplay, and none of his ranged spells could affect the zombie mages. When he went into melee, he came out wounded as all hell. He went down twice, and it was only the healing supplies of the shaman that saved him.

All the while, he was... Let's say not best pleased. Damien Bloodmoon was getting increasingly wounded, exasperated and longing for the sweet embrace of death as reprieve from the humiliation. His player was getting increasingly redder and rage-filled as time passed. Each fight ended with our characters stronger than ever and his a bloody pulp on the floor, with poor in-character knowledge (and terrible rolls) preventing him from realising why.

Eventually, we reached the final boss, pausing only to paint Krug's armour in contact poison just in case, and to find a stick to help the now-partially-crippled Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of death and murder, walk after being beaten up by angry zombie wizards for hours. And it had, indeed, been hours. Among us, only Damien had a bonus to strength, and we had two swords, a mace and a staff between the four of us. Meaning it was re-death by a thousand cuts for the enemy and a slog and a half for us.

We reach the necromancer and, having taken so long due to dragging the oblivious Krug with us, his big ritual is complete- he raises a fist-sized black onyx egg aloft, crackles with arcane power and causes the bones around him to coalesce into one massive creature - an undead, giant-sized rust monster, radiating an Aura of pure negative energy. Krug opened his arms wide, eager for the metal-eating monster cockroach to free him from his poison-painted metal prison. It ignores him as he's still very far away. Me and the others have our weapons and armour devoured.

Our DM was very much a stickler for note-taking. So because Damien Bloodmoon hadn't written 'clothes' on his sheet, his armour being eaten by the monster left him naked and afraid.

It became clear that the DM had done another f***y-wucky. See, the Aura of negative energy healed me and the Sorcerer by more than its other attacks did. So whilst Damien Bloodmoon was naked, soaked in mud and bleeding to death almost crushed to a pulp in the fetal position, rocking backwards and forwards as his player seethed with hatred, the Shaman and the Campire set about beating the thing to death with our bear hands and a stick.

The session ended once we killed the necromancer, or rather when Krug walked up to him, closed his arms and just crushed the noodle-armed bad guy to death with the weight of his ridiculous armour and poisoned him with its paintwork.

We never revisited the game afterwards. We were told later on that the DM wanted us to use the non-undead races. But at no point had he said as much, even when we asked him about our characters and the restrictions on them. We also learned a valuable lesson. DM for the players who are there, not the ones who you have an idealised mental image of. Tailor your game, otherwise you'll get a sitcom featuring a camp nosferatu, a shaman with no healing, a paladin who could barely move and a Cleric of murder who was ironically the only one at risk of actually dying.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Good intentions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Had to divide the story into four parts, and I’m working as fast as I can to finish the rest.

Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :) Especially if you like it.

Everybody's alive.

When Natasha catches your reaction to seeing a soaking wet Bucky coming in from the rain, your life becomes unbearable. Nat considers herself a decent matchmaker, but what happens when both her subjects are resisting her attempts?

***

Part 1: Matchmaker

Word count: 4412

It had been raining for weeks. Racing streaks down the glass. Soft drumming against the umbrella. Big, fat drops of water splashing against the pavement, sending shivers through my body whenever they hit my skin. Two in rapid succession on my neck – don't know how, though, my coat collar was pulled up as high as it could go, and my umbrella was larger than average. Then one straight into my ear, which made me squeak in disgust. This had to be an omen.

I shook my umbrella before stepping through the door. No need to be a savage, though from the look of it, I was the only one who cared. A quick nod good morning to Nesta in the reception while making a mental note to call down the cleaning crew. The state of the floor was appalling. Mud and dirt and water – apparently not everyone remembered to wipe their feet before entering the building. And umbrellas all along the wall, dripping on the tiles, creating puddles so large a toddler would happily jump in them.

A long sigh escaped. Time for a stern talk with Nesta again. This was supposed to be a good first impression, not an impression of someone's mudroom. My stomach twisted, this was just the latest in a long string of minor complaints. If she didn't improve soon, I would have to make a note in her file and I hated being strict. Still, it was a part of my job, just like running errands before eight in the morning and longing for the coffee I left in my office. I didn't have to like it.

The elevator pinged. “Hey, Y/N.” Natasha walked out with a smile on her face. Her hair was red again, like flames cascading over her shoulders. Damn, that woman really could carry any hair colour. I nodded and smiled back. “Good morning, Agent Romanov. You're in early. What can I do for you? Love your hair, by the way."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

I shook off my coat and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Of course. What do you need? Let me just –""

The door blew open, banging into the doorstopper before closing behind a sopping wet figure and an umbrella that definitely had seen better days. "Good morning, Y/N. Hey, Nat. Have you seen Clint?" Bucky shook himself, sending a glittering spray of water everywhere.

"No, but check the roof."

The air was knocked straight out of me. I couldn't stop the tiny squeak that tumbled over my lips.  The way his hair stuck to his face did things to me, not to mention how the water glistened on his metal arm. I hadn't felt heat on my face like that since I was seventeen and spilled juice all over my shirt in front of my neighbour Todd.

Swallowing the rest of the rude noises hovering in my throat, I forced a smile and nodded to the elevator. "Saw him by the coffee machine on the third floor earlier, Sargent Barnes." My voice was breathier that usual, and I cursed the weather for calling me out like that, while simultaneously praying to any deities listening that nobody noticed.

"Thanks." He marched to the elevator with a pace that would divide a crowd of people without a word.

Natasha looked between Bucky and me, a devilish smile spreading on her face. Once he was out of earshot, she bumped me with her elbow. “So, Bucky, huh?”

The heat crept up my ears and settled in my temples. Surely I was no more than two seconds from combusting? “What? I don’t… no, I mean –" I drew a big breath and steeled my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, what was it you needed my help with?”

Her eyes locked on mine. "Never mind that… You're a terrible liar."

A good point. I let out a small wheeze and scrunched my eyes shut. "Fine! Yes, Sargent Barnes is a tall drink of water. Is that what you want me to say? Well, yeah, okay. Maybe I do have a thing for him." The defeat was inevitable. Already my intestines were squirming. Nothing good could come from this.

Natasha looked like it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "I knew it!"

I shrugged, ignoring the rising chill in my chest. How to best deescalate this before it got out of hand? "Well, you are a superspy after all. But please, PLEASE, don't say anything to him. I like my job. Besides, he's a fucking superhero. I'm just… me."

"Just you?" She shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, come on! Look at me!" Holding my arms out, I swayed from side to side. I never liked to draw attention to my body, but apparently she needed the extra visual.

Natasha arched her eyebrow. "I am looking."

She was good, but I couldn't to give up that easily. "Yes, and then you clearly see that I'm ordinary. People like him don't fall for people like me. He's too perfect for that."

"Perf… perfect?" She snorted. "Y/N, Bucky's a mess. He's basically a cucumber with anxiety. Damn, you really have it bad if –"

"I know he has issues. You all do. I'm the one booking everybody's therapy sessions, remember? I'm not talking about his trauma. I'm talking about the fact that he's sweet as a marshmallow and his smile could power a small European country if Stark only found a way to harness its brilliance –"

"And the fact that he's got those broad shoulders and could probably lift and throw a bus if he wanted…"

"And that," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck to stop that annoying heat from spreading even more. That was a delicious picture, alright. "But I'm nothing special."

"Y/N, sweetie, what are you talking about? You know everything, who's supposed to be where, what we're doing, when we come and go – that's practically a superpower right there. Don't downplay yourself."

The laughter came out dry and humourless. She had to be kidding. Being organised and good at puzzles wasn't exactly rocket science. And besides, I didn't even have a good memory. Without my trusty calendar and phone I'd be running around like Hei-Hei.

"Appreciate your confidence in me, but I don't think so, Nat," I countered and repeated: "Please don't tell him."

She sighed. "I won't."

I tilted my head and put on my best mom-voice. "Promise me."

Her shoulders slumped forward, and she lifted her hand in the air. "I promise I will never tell James Buchanan Barnes about your crush." There was a small pause. "Partypooper!"

"Who's a partypooper?"

I yelped and spun around, looking into Tony's smiling face. "Oh my god, Tony, I mean, Mr Stark." Why did he have to be so stealthy? A big, flashy guy like him ought to be required to announce his arrival with trumpets and drums. Through my galloping heartbeats I noted the glasses were new though, and wondered what kind of new tech they really were. They suited him.

He smirked. “Not the first time a lady has said that to me. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, just barely resisting the urge to pinch my nose – or maybe kick him in the shin as a diversion. This was going to hell with the express train. “No one. No one's a partypooper.”

“Really?” He turned to Natasha. “Nat?”

I shook my head vigorously, bringing forth all malice I had to my eyes, which I have been told is substantial.

"Y/N has a crush and –"

"Ooh, is it me?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

That made me laugh. "What? Oh, god no." Then I immediately felt bad for my reaction.

"Okay, a little bit insulted, but whatever…"

"She won't let me tell Bucky that she's in love with him," Natasha continued as if she had never been interrupted.

Tony gasped, a look of absolute delight in his eyes.

It was as if the ground disappeared beneath me. A rush of adrenaline almost knocked me off my feet. "Natasha! You promised."

She shrugged and pointed at Tony. "I promised not to tell Bucky. Last I checked, that is not him."

This time I did pinch the bridge of my nose and exhaled deeply, then groaned silently. “Nat!” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Sargent Barnes is a friend. Well, uh, a colleague. Of sorts. I do not -“

“So you didn’t just squeak and burst into flames when he came through that door, huh?” She pointed to the glass door with a grin on her face.

Yeah, this was definitely a torture-the-handler day. Though Natasha was right about my crush, of course, and I wasn't even sure it was just a crush anymore; it had lasted for far too long to be called a crush, I had to keep a professional relationship with all of them.

Truth be told I had had a crush on Bucky since the day we were introduced, but I remembered the exact moment I had fallen in love: it was a chilly spring evening about a year ago. The team had decided to go out to eat, Wanda had discovered a new restaurant downtown, and the food supposedly was to die for. I couldn’t remember what I ate, or if I even liked it, but I remembered the knitted cardigan Bucky wore, the one with the colourful pattern on it. It looked really soft, and I found myself longing to touch it. That wasn’t the moment, though. The exact moment that made me go “Oh shit!” was when I cracked some stupid dad joke, and Bucky unleashed his full laughter on me. Who knew that "Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera," would be my doom? But the sound had stunned me, made me lose my voice for several minutes. If someone had opened my skull at that moment, the only thing they would have found was an empty space and a dial tone - my brain frantically trying to reconnect with my body. If I concentrated I could still hear the ringing in my ears.

I avoided him for a week afterwards - well, tried and failed; my work meant contact with the entire Avengers team at all times - but the mental distance hurt too much to keep up with it. Since then, I allowed the realisation to wash over me, causing me both joy and suffering. And I thought I hid it well. Not well enough, apparently, since Natasha sniffed it out. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh again. However, I couldn’t stop my intestines from curling into a tight ball. She had brought Tony into this after all.

Tony’s eyes shone. It had been a long time since any drama unfurled in the compound. He was practically starved, and this… This was delicious.

Looking between them, I knew this wouldn't end well. "You know what? I'm gonna go set up the briefing. Room 705. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." Fishing the phone out of my pocket, I sent a group text to everyone with time and location. In afterthought the wording in the text might have been a tad too harsh, threatening bodily harm if they were late, but the start of the day warranted some sort of reaction leaking from my brain. I locked eyes with Natasha. "Not. A. Word!"

She nodded, but the grin never left her face.

Tony watched me frantically push the elevator button, and I caught him whispering, not knowing I could still hear him. Or maybe he didn't care. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a plan? You're the resident match-maker here, aren't you?"

Nastasha let out a small laugh. "Do you know why she refuses to do anything about it?"

Tony nodded. “Because she’s professional and a bit afraid for what the people at the top are going to say?”

“No. Well, probably that too, but she thinks Bucky is way out of her league. Something about him being a superhero.” She snorted.

“What?” Tony let out a barking laugh. “Why? Bucky’s like the most timid ex-assassin you can find. I mean, he’s basically a cup of soft serve covered in salt and liquorice."

“I know. We gotta get them together. So, uh, are you in?”

“Uh, yeah! What’s your plan?”

The room finally sealed itself around me and I heard nothing else than the back of my head banging against the mirror wall and F.R.I.D.A.Y. cheerfully announcing what floor I was going to.

Half an hour later I had to step out for a bit to fetch a new cable to the projector, and when I got back, almost everyone were seated. My chest hollowed when I spotted Tony and Natasha sitting together, looking very conspiring indeed.

The urge to either run from the room or break them up rose in my throat, but instead I pulled up a chair next to Sam and focused on my breathing. He was one of the most calming people on the team, and I shamelessly used him as a shield.

Other than the small scare in the beginning, the morning briefing went without hitch. Agent Hill presented the upcoming missions, and I marked my calendar accordingly. Apparently SHIELD had detected a new terrorist group forming in northern Europe, and needed eyes.

Natasha was a given, she could go undetected for longer periods of time, and could take care of herself if necessary. Of course, Clint would come with her. They were an amazing team together, and he would probably go anyway, even if he was assigned to another task. It was better just to let him.

Steve and Sam would step in if it came to that, but would have to keep under the radar until they were needed. Bucky would travel to Europe with the others, but I knew he would set off alone the minute they touched ground in Stockholm. He worked best alone, or so he claimed, and anyway it would be an advantage to spread out. Still, I made a note on my pad to make sure he had everything he needed, and then some. Who knew where his road might lead him.

Bruce and Tony would work together to develop a better algorithm for the surveillance. So far, the terrorist group had evaded SHIELD's best efforts to pin them down. I was actually surprised to learn they didn't even know their name, which made me suspect something big was coming.

The rest of the team was assigned to other, smaller missions, scattered across the States. That way they could easily be reassigned if the situation escalated in Europe.

During the meeting, I kept an extra eye on Natasha and Tony. They sat next to each other, and though I thought I saw them passing notes a couple of times, I didn't want to bring any attention to it. The rest of the group looked oblivious. A sigh of relief escaped me, and Natasha looked up. She nodded imperceptibly towards Bucky, who sat with a bored look on his face and a discarded towel by his feet.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, trying my best to stop my ears from buzzing. Suddenly aware of every molecule in the air and trying desperately to ignore the intense weight, I focused all my attention back on Agent Hill’s presentation. Still, Bucky’s presence lingered in the back of my head, and together with the imminent threat from Natasha and Tony, I felt like I was sitting on explosives.

When Maria finally closed her laptop and turned to Director Fury, everybody got up, chatting as if the meeting had been a regular parent-teacher meeting and not a brief on a possible terrorist organisation on the rise.

“Can you believe that people will do things like this?” an agent asked as we all filed out of the room.

“Well, faith is a strong persuader,” I replied with a shrug. “Some are willing to go far for what they believe in.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong,” the agent continued.

“They’d probably say the same about us,” Sam said, and I nodded.

“There are always two sides to the coin. If not more.”

“But -“

“And then it’s up to us to figure out what to do. We have to look at the big picture. Not everyone is capable of that.” Sam tilted his head with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

The agent huffed and hurried off with a look on his face that either said that he was constipated, or that being schooled by a member of the Avengers was too much for a Wednesday morning.

“Not sure he saw the big picture, Sam.” I shook my head and smiled.

“Don’t think he could. Better hope he doesn’t get promoted soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll be on desk duty for years still. And I guess you have a little desk duty yourself right now?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous. “Of course. What can I do, what do you need?” My voice rose to mimic the retail job I had before I got lucky enough to join SHIELD's training and ultimately land my dream job.

Sam grimaced. "I gotta go to Louisiana. Just a short trip, couple of days maybe."

"Shit, don't think Director Fury would be too happy about that right now, not to mention the rest of upstairs. You're supposed to be on silent duty until you leave for Sweden."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just… Cass and AJ has been asking me to come visit. And Sarah's getting sick of their nagging. Also, I sorta promised on the phone yesterday. Didn't know there would be a world crisis today."

Smiling softly, I hid the urge to smack my face into the wall. This was going to take a lot of explaining and string-pulling. He was supposed to go no-contact for the duration of the mission, but I hated disappointing the boys. And Sarah was a good woman. She didn't deserve being let down, even though it technically wasn't Sam's fault this time.

"Sam, you're such a softie," I said after some consideration. "Go. I'll figure something out. Just be back before the weekend, okay? And –"

"Yeah yeah, and I'll come in at once if the situation escalates before we're scheduled to head out."

I gave him a crooked smile to disguise the trouble he had just handed me. "Sure. But I was gonna say bring back some of that pecan pie. I've been dreaming about that since last summer."

Sam let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of my head, melting my nervous soul to a gooey puddle. "You're the best. Thanks."

"Fly safe."

"I always do."

"Really now?"

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

"That's how it is. Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

With a short wave, he took off down the corridor, leaving me quietly screaming and already doing the mental gymnastics to find a solution.

***

Departure time was in two days. Everyone was on edge, trying their best to prepare for any eventualities, both inconceivable and expected. After a short meeting with the departure crew to share the last pieces of intel, I felt empty and tired. Missions always affected me more than they should. These people were my friends; if anything were to happen to them, my world would collapse.

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling a bit drained. No one was in a hurry to leave, and the conversation was hushed and weary.

"You know what we need?" Tony said loudly, slicing through the silence and winking to Natasha. He thought I wouldn't notice, but I did, and the suspicion grew in my chest. What now?

"Pizza!" they said in unison. "We should gather everyone, before we all go."

Tony nudged my arm. "My treat. What do you say?"

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head. "…sure."

"Oh, don't be like that. We all need good pizza. Especially today, what with all this rain. Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know that pizza bakery up the street, the one with the chicken one. Order pizza for everyone. Remember the one with pear, brie, and white sauce. Have it delivered to the lounge."

That did it for me. If he ordered my favourite, I'd be damn sure to eat my part. "When?"

"Uh…" He looked at his watch. "Noon. I'll send out a ping. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I do have a ton of things to do to make sure you guys don't die on this trip." I tried to keep it light, but now that the thought had settled in my mind, I had to fight off the tears. It was a miracle I managed to keep the tremble from my voice.

An hour later I tripped over the doorstep to the lounge, surprised to see it was empty except for Tony and Natasha and a huge stack of pizzas. "Where is everybody?" The door clicked behind me, sealing the silence in.

Natasha shrugged. "Late?"

At that moment the door opened again and Bucky sauntered in with a mischievous smile on his face. "Gimme the pizza and nobody gets hurt."

"Jeez, Buck. Remember your manners. There are ladies present." Tony grinned, but opened the top box and helped himself to a slice.

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Y/N," he said with an over-the-top flourish. "I hope you can forgive my insolence." He gestured towards the pizzas. "Ladies first."

My heart did a somersault, but I managed to keep it cool on the outside. "Insolence forgiven," I replied, swallowing a hiccough that lodged itself in my throat, before taking a plate and sifting through the boxes until I found the right one. Loading my plate, I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. Only thing missing now was some candles and a drink, and I'd be set for the day.

Natasha gave Tony a pointed look. Two minutes later he picked up his phone and half jogged out the door. That was odd. Tony never jogged.

I looked between Natasha and the door, the pizza forgotten halfway between the plate and my mouth. She looked anywhere but at me, but was saved from a confrontation by her phone ringing. "Gotta take this," she muttered. "Can't prepare enough for the trip." She smiled apologetically and left the room. That was a lie, of course. She had full control; all intel was already read and destroyed. And if something new had come up, I would have been notified too.

Suddenly the plate felt heavy in my hand. Maybe it was naïve, but I had expected Natasha and Tony to respect my wishes; after all I had made it absolutely clear that they should leave it, hadn't I? Their amusement and entertainment wasn't worth being an inconvenience to Bucky.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked when the door clicked behind Natasha.

"I… I don't know," I lied haltingly.

Bucky shrugged. "Oh well. Might as well catch up on some paperwork before the flight too. See you later." With one slice between his teeth and another in his hand, he left the room with a friendly wave.

"Sure. See you." I spoke to his back; the glass door had already closed behind him. The lump in my throat grew. Even though Tony had ordered my favourite pizza, I no longer had any appetite. My mouth was dry, and it was a struggle to swallow. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the table, smacking my toe in the process. The pizza slice slid from the plate and landed on my thigh. "Fuck!"

"Ooh, pizza!"

I spun in my seat. Steve had just arrived, and that made me feel a little bit better at least. He was always a laugh.

"Where is everybody?" He looked around and spotted my moping figure, holding an equally sad slice of pizza. "You okay?"

"I guess," I replied, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Everybody else left. The mission, yeah?"

"Right. I thought everything was planned and okayed."

I couldn't bring myself to fill him in on the situation. If he didn't already know, it was nice to have someone neutral by my side. "Yeah, I don't know."

Their scheme was becoming clear; making Bucky spend time with me alone. But it was a failure. Even he thought it was awkward, and he obviously didn't want to be alone with me. Not that I blamed him. If I was him, I'd do the same.

I glanced at my watch. 12.30. Just then Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Vision spilled into the room, heading towards the pizza like a herd of hungry goats. Slowly my appetite returned too, and half an hour later the blow to my heart was a painful memory pushed to the back of my mind by excellent pizza and wonderful friends.

Later that day I ran into Tony on the way to the garage. He tried to slip past me, but had to stop when I blocked the door, arms crossed over my chest and puffing myself up as much as I could. "Seriously, Tony! What did you expect to happen, huh? That I'd just throw myself in his arms because we were alone? Because newsflash: I've got both self-control and decency. Do you really think I've never been alone with him before?"

At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, and he mumbled something inaudible I thought maybe sounded like an apology.

No way he was getting away with a tiny one. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"It was Nat's idea," he said, trying a smirk that didn't work at all.

"I very much doubt that," I replied, dragging a hand over my eyes. "Do I have to call Pepper? I didn't think so," I added when he shook his head. "Do better! Now excuse me. I have a lot of work to do to ensure you actually don't die on this mission." With a final, exaggerated frown, I turned and marched out of the room, ignoring the samba in my chest.

Part 2: Eel infested waters

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey!!! I'm so glad you liked the blurb night idea :) 💞 Can I request a blurb with Peter bumping into the reader while she's kinda lost at times square and he's dressed as spiderman so he tries to flirt with you, but it makes you laugh instead?

I loved the idea hun, thankyou sm for helping me with this idea xxx

“You’re a guy?”

Pairing | Peter Parker x reader

Summary | based on the request

Warnings | mentions of crime, brief mention of death and drugs, mention of sex

2K blurb masterlist

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“And there was this girl. She was really pretty, but-“ May quirked her head at her nephew, hardly understanding his blabber as he sped through his words like he was racing verbally against a cheetah, though, she was manage to uncover that particular sentence.

“Whoa, slow down kiddo.” His aunt laughed lightly, bracing her shoulders on his arms as he caught his overexcited breath. “How about you start from the beginning, and take a breath?” May had much practice with calming the boy down, she sincerely remembered how that night his parents had dropped him off, how worried he had been for them not to return. And they didn’t.

Peter bobbed his head in a eager nod, doing as he was recommended by his legal guardian, puffing the air in through his cheeks, as he inhaled and exhaled normally through his nose.“I was out patrolling the city, checking out for any bad guys, and then, I saw her...” her, the girl that had captured his attention, and distracted him from his friendly neighbourhood duties. She was much like a magnet, pulling his north face into her axis spinning world, distracting him from the things that he was actually meant to be ensuring did not happen on his watch.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” The elder of the two quirked a brow, earning a splutter of a response from the teenager under her roof. She wasn’t a strict guardian concerning his heroic antics, though, she made sure to keep him on track for his own sake. Peter had quite the tendency to become overrun with stress from the amounts of responsibilities that he took on, and him being only young did not help the situation.

“I’m getting to that!” He was fast to defend himself, huffing his chest in as he prepared to tell May his story, from the beginning. It was quite the tale, he’d say, combined with the embarrassment of his own presence entangled in the random and friendly interaction that he had felt promiscuously lulled to create.

Queens, it was new to you. There were so many streets, filled to the brim with people that seemed to know where they were going. Unlike them, you didn’t, in fact, you’d go as far to admit that you were lost. Lost in a place that was known for the chaos that wrapped it off with a tarnished bow, and made the collateral practically fashion within its various newspapers that rounded every corner to divulge their companies’ obscure theories.

A panicked look struck your eyes, as you turned, shaking your head and pressing through the mass of citizens and finding an empty lot, scrolling through your phone, diverting your attention quickly towards google maps. It was the only thing that you could think of, it’d be a shame if you were to disturb one of the many passersby from their clearly packed schedule; you did not need that, nor berating them on your conscience.

“You lost or something?” A voice asked, making your shoulders jump as a figure, twisted in the colours red and blue, with a seam of black fell from the roofs above. Your heart rate imploded, more so when you realised who the mask wearing vigilante was. The wearer, although unknown, was infamous for the successions of saving lives that they had participated in, including defending the galaxy against outside threats.

It was Spiderman, the neighbourhood dubbed avenger, that tried their utmost to return stolen or lost bikes to their rightful owners, and protected banks from armed and overnight robberies. There was known to be something different about this particular hero, they were young and clearly had time to improve their skill set, for they were quite the clutz, and spoke significantly more to those he faced off against than what was necessary.

But this one hero, stood out amongst the rest. Not only was their suit designed by Stark technology, as you had written about in a work article, but it was far more concealing, and not to mention restricting, for the person beneath the red concoction to wear. Yes, you were in town for a new job, specifically to delve into the details that regards the world of heroes, and exploit all possible angles to how they deserved as much recognition for their stunts, as the president received for his noble speeches.

“I-“ you paused, think back over what you were preparing to say. It was without a doubt, that you had not expected the vigilante to appear in your spectacle gaze the first time that you stepped foot on the premises that he roamed, and protected. But here the spider enthusiast was, leaping down to stand beside you, burdening you with more knowledge that you could use, such as the person beneath was not as tall as you had expected, and there was definitely no way you could see their true eyes through the shallow white cases that covered them.

That was something you could write about, and make various descriptive theories about. ‘Seeing in white vision, sparked by the purity that glazed their unknown signature irises, Spider-Man halts all with the sparing of their true self. They may have reasons for shielding their eyes, much like Daredevil, not needing to see when they are overcome with various other senses that convulse their body into attentiveness,” -no, that sounded absolutely terrible.

And not to mention, if you spread that horrid writing about, Murdoc would be ashamed of ever deciding to get your aid in uncovering the route of the villainous underworld, that had take over Hell’s Kitchen and turned it into their own ring for drugs and more. The battle of New York had many repercussions, that being one, another influencing you into the career choice of being said reporter that you now proclaimed yourself as.

“Yeah, I am.” You responded with the company of a smile, and Peter swore he could feel his heart convulse beneath his suit. It’s pace was vaguely rapid, disheartening him from thinking of any more to say, he was practically speechless. “I’m looking for New York Times, you ever heard of it?” Yes, he most definitely had, it was the average run of the mill newspaper company, though, he did not know that you intended to change that into something much more.

“Funnily enough I have.” He scratched the back of his head, his arm subconsciously flexing as he did so, feeling like he had failed as your eyes remained focused on the wideness of his suit’s intense eyes. “It’s about three blocks from here, I could take you there if you want, I have nothing more to do.” From his proclamation you quirked a brow, crossing your arms amusedly.

“Don’t you have a city to watch over?” You asked, watching as Spider-Man’s false eyes widened, and he visibly panicked, realising that you had been right. “I’ll find my way, I’ve been to New York, many a time, Queens is bound to be a piece of cake. Also, a map is always handy.” A shrug rippled off your shoulders, Peter watching and walking closer as he thought of something more to add to the initial acquainting conversation.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Inwardly, and beneath his mask, Peter cringed noting how his voice rose, and it could be perceived as boasting. That though was definitely not his intent in the slightest, but he worried of how it may have come across to you. He wasn’t sure how you may have read it as, but a swarm of relief filled his lungs as he watched the corner of your eyes crinkle up, humoured by the tone of his that had significantly heightened. “Im a guy by the way.”

He felt the need to state that, especially considering people’s perceptions in the past. But instantly after saying it, he was regretful, through, he had to admit, he enjoyed listening to you laugh, it was like a melody that he wanted to listen to until the end of time. “You’re a guy?” You released a dramatic gasp, aiding your phoney response. “Yeah, no. I completely thought that you were a girl.” Sarcasm, he had well gotten used to frequency of it thanks to Mr Stark, who... well, he wasn’t around any more.

“You’re funny.” He smiled, shaking his head whence he realised that you could not see his hidden expression. “I don’t know, maybe, would you like to go to coffee with me, if you have time before you have to get to the news place? I mean, I don’t drink that much coffee, I get told that if I have too much caffeine that I get a little hyper, but I mean, I’m trying to ask you out and I have a really bad track record of-“

“Sure.” You spoke, ignoring the map that had finally loaded onto the screen of your phone. It was to your luck that you weren’t required to make your presence known at the business until tomorrow, and there was always time to kill, so you thought screw it, and decided to find it so that you didn’t get lost the approaching day. “Are you going to be wearing that, or you know, take it off?” You pointed at him, making peter surprised.

“It’s not that kind of date.” He quickly responded. “I meant just for a drink, not to hook up in the back of an a- oh, you meant the suit, didn’t you.” With a roll of your eyes, you nodded, pursing your lips together, as Peter felt the rain of relief once more. “Oh, that’s good, not that I wouldn’t want to, you’re gorgeous, that just wasn’t my intent and I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Basically.” You wrinkled your nose, with a laugh, the way you scrunched it up was adorable to Peter. “So I’ll meet you here in two hours, I’ll let you finish up your duties, and change into something that doesn’t make you look you’re wearing a thong, because I can tell you from experience that those things are not comfortable. That good for you Spidey?”

“That works.” He spoke, trying his best to contain his overflowing excitement, biting his lip to do so. “That definitely works.”

“Hi.” The familiar voice of Spider-Man spoke, and you turned around, watching as a young man, not much different in age from yourself rounded the corner. He was clothed in a blue and white chequered flannel, and grey jeans, and you had to say, that whilst the amazing Spider-Man was quite the sight, this was something else.

“Oh, I was waiting for a girl actually.” You informed him, clearly messing with him, as you walked closer, a stretching smile pinning up the corners of your lips. “But I guess you’ll do webslinger.” He could feel his heart racing, but he walked closer, watching as you eyed him, a stranger met with the sight of a vigilante unmasked. “Where to, red and blue?”

“There’s this really good place on main, they sell the best sandwiches. And trust me, once you buy from there, you won’t stop...” the two of you began to walk away together, and towards Peter’s secret destination, where the two of you learnt the others real name.

[renaerys]

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

[tuanhood]

theta

pairing: frat!bambam x reader

genre: smut

warnings: 18+, language, cringey frat stuff, fingering

word count: 4,400+ 

summary: you haven’t been doing so well in stats, so your tutor - the last person you thought would be teaching you something - recommends giving you an incentive. 

a/n: hi guys! i’m a little late... but it’s kinda technically still the weekend? ngl this definitely isn’t my best work and I’m sorry for that because I feel like I’ve been lacking a little bit lately! but i promise that i have a few things in the works that will hopefully be better! but nonetheless enjoY! 

lambda | alpha | delta | gamma | kappa | sigma

“Okay so in a college class, the average IQ is 115. Assuming that the distribution is normal and that the standard deviation is 15. What percentage of the class has an IQ between 105 and 130?” 

You felt like you were going to die. 

When you were a little girl, you’d fantasize about all the fun and cool things you’d be able to do in college. Stay up late, hang out with your friends all the time, eat whatever you wanted, and take the classes that would help you become the best-selling author you aspired to be. 

In all of those daydreams and fantasies, you never pictured yourself in practical agony studying for a statistics class that you never wanted to take in the first place. You were more of an English and critical analysis girl, definitely not a science and math girl. Especially not stats. 

You told yourself probably a hundred times throughout the quarter that you could make it through. That you could maybe actually do this, but sometime between weeks three and four you got completely lost and when you received your midterm grade back, you knew you had to ask for help. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you exhaled in frustration as you practically slammed your head down onto the table in front of you. 

There’s a pause before Bambam lets out a sigh of his own, “let’s come back to that one later then.” 

This was how most of your sessions with Bambam went. He’d read the questions out loud to you as if was going to help, hope that you’d be able to solve it – which you typically wouldn’t – and then you’d give up in frustration. Then you’d call it a day. 

That was another thing. Another thing that made this whole tutoring thing even worse – you were being tutored by Bambam. As in Bambam of Theta Chi.

As dumb as you felt saying it, but you felt even more pathetic for having to be so terrible at stats that you have to be tutored by a frat boy. Sure he came highly recommended by the people at your school that put together and pair people off for the tutoring sessions, but it didn’t get rid of the pain you felt when you had to tell your friends who exactly was helping you pass stats. Or… at least trying to help. 

“Okay, so what is the probability of rolling snake eyes using two fair dice?”

Maybe you were being shallow, but even his voice screamed frat guy and not the master of statistics who is now teaching his peers. You don’t know why but it aggravated you. Traditionally he wasn’t supposed to be good at these kinds of things, someone like you was. It didn’t make sense. 

You groaned, your head still on the table, muffled by the surface, “I don’t know? 1/36?” 

At your answer, you could feel Bambam straighten up beside you. You had to admit the boy was a trooper for being willing to meet you at your apartment today instead of your usual spot in the library or at Starbucks. You just couldn’t be bothered to make the trek to campus, if you were going to have another agonizing day of probability, deviation, and whatever – it was going to be from the comfort of your living room floor. 

“Correct! See Y/N you’re not a lost cause.”

Bringing your head up from the coffee table, you grimace at him, “I never said I was a lost cause.” 

His cheeks turned a shade of light pink, clearly embarrassed by his statement, but being the cool and easygoing frat guy, he is – he covers it up, “I know. Dude, I’m just saying, chill.” Leave it to Bambam to cover up any real emotions. 

Even though it was frustrating that you were being tutored by a guy in Theta Chi and you felt lame whenever you admitted to anyone, it didn’t necessarily mean that you had anything against Bambam. Before he had started tutoring you, the encounters you had with Bambam were fine – certainly not an “oh my god you are so freaking annoying” situation. They were minimal of course, just a hello or a how are you at various school events or parties. You didn’t hate him, which was why at the beginning between the studying you had tried to talk to him and get to know him. But he never said anything real or authentic – it always felt like he was putting on some kind of ultra-frat boy act for you. Whenever you asked questions about him, things he liked to do, what he was studying or his family he would simply shy away from it and talk about Theta Chi. You didn’t get it. 

“Bambam is so freaking deep. I had a two-hour drunk conversation with him at Theta Chi’s party last weekend and my mind has been opened.” Your friend had told you when you told her about him tutoring you. 

So what? Did he have to be drunk to want to talk to you about something other than probability? Or was it just that he didn’t want to talk to you? You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it bothered you a little too much for some unexplainable reason.

“I am chill,” you confirmed with him – a bit too bitterly. You couldn’t tell if your annoyance came from the ongoing frustration of not understanding stats regardless of how many times you’ve met with Bambam or the fact that he was constantly shying away from you two actually getting to know each other. 

“Well…” he began suddenly, swallowing almost nervously, “what if we work on a rewards-based system?” 

You scoffed at him, “what am I? A child?” 

“Do you want me to answer that? Listen… all I’m saying is that rewards or a prize can be a good motivator sometimes. It definitely can’t hurt the studying process.” 

There was a part of you that felt annoyed at Bambam for thinking that the only way that you were going to understand any of this was through some kind of incentive. An incentive that had nothing to do with your overall goal which was to not fail the class. However, you had to admit you were curious as to what Bambam could bring to the table when it came to “rewards,” so you decided to play along – for now.

“What kind of motivators are we talking about?” 

For a second you swear you see Bambam fidget nervously in his seat, but it happens so quickly, you’re sure it must be your brain playing a trick on you, “I don’t know… I’m literally the co-social chair of Theta Chi so I pretty much can get you whatever you want. Booze, drugs… sex.” 

At his last “category” for rewards, your interest is peeked, but not in a weird or perverted way – you swear, “what the social chair orchestrates and plans sexual encounters now?” 

He laughed and shakes his head, “definitely not. I’m just saying… If there was anyone you were interested in at Theta Chi… I could probably set it up for you. I mean you’re definitely not bad looking so I don’t think it would be difficult.” 

You were half pleased by Bambam’s compliment and intrigued that by the fact that it seemed like perhaps his “non-tutoring” personality was emerging from the surface. It caused you to push more regarding his “reward” if it meant that you could see more of it, “So what? I solve the next equation and I get to fuck Im Jaebeom? Is that how this works?” 

He clicked his tongue, “Jaebeom, huh? Wouldn’t have thought he would be your type.”

For some reason, you suddenly felt a wave of nervousness rush through your body and you feel defensive as though you have to explain yourself for some reason, “No- I mean it was just an example.” 

Bambam nodded his slowly and looked away from you for the first time since he brought up the incentive thing. His focus goes back to the textbook in front of both of you, “It’s okay if he is. Jaebeom’s a chill guy.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, for a moment there you almost got a hint of something from him. You weren’t quite sure as to what, but it almost felt like he was… jealous? But then he has to cower away and go back to stats… That was technically why he was sitting in your living room, but right now this seemed like the least important thing going on.

“What is it with you and chill? Does everything need to be chill? Why can’t you just be… normal?” 

He laughed at your query, “What if being chill is normal for some people?”  

You grabbed the pencil in front of you and tapped it on the table rhythmically in thought, “Chill people aren’t masters at stats. That’s just a fact.” 

Bambam’s face goes into fake shock, “really? Damn well, I guess that’s why you haven’t learned anything the last month that we’ve been doing this.”

It’s obvious that it was meant as a playful dig, to tease you, but Bambam feels his heart race when you simply frown in response instead of laugh. It was clear that he had gone too far. This was the thing he had been most worried about this entire time he had been tutoring you. 

He had heard from one of his brothers in Theta who knew a friend of yours that you felt embarrassed by being tutored by a frat guy – by him. Hearing that certainly didn’t make him feel good, but he tried his best to help you the last month or so. He didn’t want to do or say anything that could allude to “frat guy” behavior – so most of the time he tried to keep conversations statistics related. Part of him felt like it was because he was offended by your embarrassment, but another part of him felt like it was maybe because he wanted to impress you. He wanted to prove that he wasn’t the typical frat guy because you probably didn’t like that. 

But he had to admit… in certain ways, he was the typical frat guy and restricting that part of himself meant restricting segments of his personality. The teasing – that was apart of it. 

“Shit – y/n I’m sorry I didn’t actually mean it. I meant it more like-”

At his quick and panicked response, you burst out into a fit of giggles, “dude I can be chill too. I was just fucking with you. Now come on… let’s keep working, I want my prize.” 

Bambam lets out a sigh in relief. Maybe he had misjudged you, “so you do want a reward?” 

“Of course, I want a reward.”

He licked his lips in thought and you have to admit it’s hard not to stare, “okay what should we start with?” 

You began to tap the pencil on your chin instead of the table, thinking about what exactly it was you wanted. When you finally have your grand prize in mind, you figure it’s better to start small. 

“I don’t want to be charged cover at any future Theta Chi parties.” 

He looked at you with surprise written on his face, “you go to our parties?” 

You rolled your eyes at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, he can’t help but admire how cute you look when you do it, “of course. They’re the biggest parties on campus… why wouldn’t I go?” 

Bambam shrugged, “I just didn’t think you liked frat stuff…” drifting off he looks to see the confusion written on your face and he doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he feels the need to keep talking, “Unless it’s for Jaebeom.” Immediately he wants to punch himself in the face for his continual teasing.

You thought it was funny how he was stuck on the Jaebeom thing. You had just said his name as an example – something you already explained to Bambam – but for some reason, it seemed to bother him. Bambam was more your type than Jaebeom, but it would have been weird if you had brought him up as an example.

“What was that?” 

His voice causes your body to jolt up in surprise. Had he heard you? No way.

“Y/N what did you just say?” Bambam asked once again.

The second question regarding what you had just said sends you into a frenzy, considering he was the last person who had just said something based on your recollection. Therefore… he fucking heard you. 

“Did I say that out loud?” You asked embarrassed and judging on the look on Bambam’s face – you have your answer. 

You felt your mouth go dry, “I- shit… Bam I didn’t mean- Well I mean I did, but- Fuck I-” you cut off your stuttering with nervous laughter and you feel more awkward than you’ve probably ever felt in your adult life. 

Rather than saying anything, Bambam looks at you curiously. A hint of a smile appears on his face but soon disappears as if he’s thought of an idea or just something. Hopefully, an idea to get me out of this, you think to yourself. Instead, he scoots closer next to you on the floor and for a moment you have to remind yourself to exhale. 

“Instead of the cover as your reward… What about…” he begins, placing his right hand onto your thigh, “this? Is this okay?” If you had to keep your breathing in check just when he moved closer to you, then you felt like you were going to need to be resuscitated now. 

Rather than verbally answering, you nodded your head, afraid to open your mouth in case the wrong thing came out.

Keeping his hand placed firmly on your thigh, he asked you the next question, “Suppose X and Y are independent random variables. The variance of X is equal to 16; and the variance of Y is equal to 9. Let Z = X – Y. What is the standard deviation of Z?” 

It’s becoming harder to concentrate. All you can focus on is the placement of his hand on your thigh and when you don’t answer right away, he begins to move it up and down your leg. 

“Come on, I know you can do this one,” he said softly. 

You couldn’t believe that your tutoring session was now taking a sharp turn – a turn that you had to admit you were now craving – but Bambam was still expecting you to be focused enough to answer questions. You weren’t able to typically do it even when you didn’t have his hand on you. 

It’s almost as though you’re on autopilot as you put your pencil to paper and work out the problem. The only thing on your mind is the curiosity of what his next move will be if you answer him correctly. 

“5?” 

He gives you your answer by drifting his hand up your thigh until it sits at the top of your thigh, dangerously close to your core. You wonder if he can tell how damp you’ve become, even with the sweatpants you’re wearing. It was probably evident just by looking at your face. 

“A coin is tossed three times. What’s the probability that it lands on heads exactly one time?” 

This was becoming frustrating. How the fuck were you getting turned on by him asking you stats questions? You felt like your brain was about to explode with how completely mixed up it felt. The cause of your stress for the entire quarter was now the cause of you being turned on? Your mind was currently rewiring itself.

For this question, it takes you some time to focus enough to work it out and calculate. Bambam who is usually patient with you when you struggle, has instead been replaced with a much more impatient version of himself as he slips his hand up to the waistband of your sweatpants, delicately playing with the top to tease you, you suddenly wished you would have worn better underwear for what’s about to happen. If you could answer the question that is. 

Just as you feel as though you’ve come to the end of the problem, you feel him dip a single finger underneath the top of the band, rubbing it softly against your stomach. It causes your hand to slip up on the paper, drawing a line right through your problem. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked innocently, completely aware of what he was doing to you, “do you need help?” 

You shook your head in response, unable to say anything. It was becoming more and more difficult to even get your hand to move fluidly on the paper. It was instead starting to get more jagged. Your fives were beginning to look more like threes. When you’ve finally solved the problem, you find yourself pointing at the paper for Bambam to look at your answer. He laughed. 

“Correct again. You’re doing so well,” he murmured as he finally dips his hand beneath the band of your sweatpants and down to your panties. You sucked a deep breath in, waiting in anticipation for his next actions, feeling him so much closer to where you need him the most, but instead, his hand just rests there, over the material. 

Letting a very out of character whine escape your lips causes him to chuckle. “Do you think you can have your reward that fast? No, no,” he tutted, “you have to finish answering all the questions like a good girl.” 

You try so hard to remember the next question he asks, but he soon begins gently rubbing you through your panties and it makes you want to kill him for playing so dirty. How were you able to solve any problems when it felt like an actual ocean was forming in your underwear? You knew Bambam could feel it too with the way his gaze on you got even darker, one of his fingers wandering to the side of your panties, playing with the hem but not daring to slip underneath. 

What the fuck was the question? 

“Having trouble angel?” 

He doesn’t give you time to answer – even if he did you weren’t sure you’d be able to provide him with one – instead, he slips his hand underneath your panties until his fingers find your entrance, slowly stroking up and down. You let out a moan when he’s left his index finger on your clit, rubbing small circles around the bundle of nerves. 

“It can’t be that hard to remember a simple question. Is something distracting you?”

Another sigh of pleasure is released from you when he presses down a bit to place more pressure on your clit, “I’ll ask you one more time. You have to remember this time or you lose your reward, okay? Are you listening?” 

Nodding your head, he smiled, “The standard normal curve is symmetric about 0 and the total area under it is 1. True or False?” 

Bambam himself was losing his patience, he so badly wanted to bring you to your release and see how tight you get around his fingers, how much you ask him for it. He had to admit that wasn’t the original question he had asked you, but at this rate, he just wanted to ask you the easier questions so both of you could get what you wanted. 

“T-True?” You managed to stutter out.

“Doing so well for me,” he whispered into your ear at your response. The teasing had been so achingly painful that when he finally fully inserts his pointer finger you feel like a kid on Christmas. You feel as though you can finally let out the breath you had been holding in since he started the taunting. 

The pace he starts with is clearly another method to get you worked up – which you certainly are – but you also felt thankful that at least it was something compared to the nothing you were getting from him previously. When he curls his finger, hitting you in the spot that drives you crazy, you felt your body instinctively jerk forward in surprise. He had found it so fast and with such ease, you wondered if the two of you had down this before in another life.  

“Bam, I-” you begin, but as his thumb draws circles over your clit, you ultimately lose your train of thought and fall even closer into him, until your head is resting on his shoulder.

“There’s one more question left… Do you think you can handle it?” 

The whimper you let out sounds borderline inhumane and in any other situation you would be frustrated with yourself for giving in so quickly, but right now you didn’t care. All you needed was him to keep going – to really give you your reward. The noise is enough for him to dive into the last question and you feel like you’re gonna pass out at the way he begins to rhythmically tap your clit, his finger now going stagnant.

His eyes drift down to the textbook on the table, gazing through which questions on the page are still viable to be asked. After a moment he locks eyes with you, the tapping still consistent. 

For a moment he looks shy and despite his previous teasing, you feel your heart leap out of your chest in deep want and longing. It’s a weird feeling you have to admit, but somehow it feels just right. 

“What’s the probability of you going out on a date with me after this?” Bambam blushed when he asked you his query and for some reason, he feels so small being in front of you – asking this – despite his current position with his hand in between your legs. 

You, on the other hand, have no trouble answering this final question. The question that’ll get you your reward and perhaps something else entirely. 

“Without a doubt, 100% chance.” 

The smile that emerged on his face is so big, you take a picture of it in your mind, wanting to keep it safe and bottle it up to view later, a hundred times over. 

He slipped in another finger, watching your face as it contorts into even more pleasure, “there we go.” 

You felt a groan arise in your throat as soon as he began to pick up the original pace of his sole finger. With both of them curling and pumping in and out of you, you felt even more overwhelmed than before. Bambam smirked, taking in your tightly shut eyes, “Good?” Opening your eyes, you felt your climax right around the corner, only able to moan his name in response to his question. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured, leaning in to place his lips on your own.

Somehow, the pace of his fingers only increased, practically fucking into you over and over, hitting your g-spot each time. Even though you were sat on the floor, already mostly leaning onto Bambam for support, you still felt as though you could melt into the floor. With a final few pumps that hit your sweet spot and his thumb still massaging your clit, you feel your walls tighten around his fingers. “That’s it, good girl,” he said against your lips.  

Soon you fall apart, feeling as though there’s no breath left in your body, your body falling practically limp at your release around Bambam’s fingers. He takes a moment to slip his hand out from between your legs and you don’t ignore the feeling you get in your core again when he slowly places his fingers in his mouth. 

You groaned, feeling like you were practically in a sedative state at how relaxed your release made you feel, “do you have to do that?” 

Bambam narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “what do you mean?” 

“Be so damn seductive.” 

The two of you look at each other before bursting into laughter at your very serious confession. After a moment when it’s silent you look down at your lap to realize that somewhere during your encounter with Bambam, your sweatpants managed to slip down to the bottom of your thighs. 

“I should probably go get cleaned up…” 

Bambam coughed awkwardly and turned to his things on the coffee table, “yeah… I guess I should probably just get my stuff together too and get out of your hair.” 

Get out of your hair? Who the fuck says that Bam? He asked himself. 

You looked at him with confusion, “I thought you were taking me out? Remember? 100% chance? I mean… unless you didn’t mean it…” 

His eyes went big, “No!” he exclaimed, “I definitely meant it! I just didn’t know if maybe you said it in the moment and- Or I don’t maybe you did mean it- but also if you didn’t that’s cool. Just so you know I would have still given you your- uh reward if you had said no- Sorry I’m rambling. I ramble when I get nervous.” 

When he stops talking, he instantly avoids your gaze. This was the Bambam you wanted to see. This display of authenticity made you feel as though the curtain had finally been drawn. 

“I said it because it was true. The likeliness was 100%. Give me like 15 minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” just as you’re about to head to the stairs, you stop yourself and remember why the two of you were even here in the first place, “shit stats…” 

Instantly, Bambam shakes his head, “if you think we’re going to go back to probability, standard deviation, and bullshit right now after what just happened you are very mistaken. We’ve done enough… work for today.” 

Smiling, you nodded your head in confirmation and begin to go up the stairs to your room. Considering something, you find yourself stopping on the third stop, turning towards the living room where Bambam looks up at you with his head cocked to the side. 

“You picked easier questions towards the end on purpose, didn’t you?” 

He let out a laugh and grinned – another smile that you decided to file away in your memories, something that you figured might soon become a regular part of your life. 

“Let’s just say that I wanted to give you your reward as much as you wanted to have it.”

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne

So now we get to what is, in my opinion, the best episode in season three. However, it’s still season three, so that’s damning with faint praise. 

Summary: Rapunzel tasks the kingdom with refurbishing the throne room. While breaking down a wall, they find a map to the Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne and Rapunzel decides to set up a race to the location. The teams, which consist of twos, are only allowed to look at the map briefly before the start of the race. However, Rapunzel's partner, Feldspar, brings a copy of the map with him and he warns her that the treasure is cursed. 

Why Are You Just Getting to This Now? 

It’s literally been months since you defeated the Saporians. Edmund had to have time to travel all this way to Corona and you’ve rebuilt an entire village since then. We’re talking at bare minimum three months or more. 

Who just leaves a gapping hole inside their home for three months? Where did you conduct the government’s important business during that time? Is there any other structural damage to the castle or the town outside from previous battles that you’ve just left unattended? I understand that rebuilding Old Corona is important but those villagers have been evacuated and living elsewhere for a year and a half now since Queen for a Day. It wasn’t a priority, but this is. 

Also this episode has to come after The Return of the King and Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf because Red, Angry, and Hamuel exist. It can’t just be slotted in somewhere else in order for it to make more sense. The writers genuinely planned for Rapunzel to be this disorganized and didn’t think to give a logical reason as to why. 

Also Why Are You Conscripting Regular Citizens Instead of Hiring Professional Contractors?

Unlike Old Corona, which is a full on community that would require multiple building projects going on simultaneously and therefore could use volunteers, this is a single government building. It’s Rapunzel’s job as leader to make sure that that building is kept maintained and up to code. It’s her responsibility not the regular average citizen’s who has their own jobs to do and zero experience with construction.  

Rapunzel is literally forcing these people to be slave labor for her under the pretense of ‘community’. She’s taking their time away from their own busy lives, forcing them to work a dangerous job, and not compensating them for that time, effort, and risk. And no, they’re not just volunteers at this point; because as acting queen, no one can safely say no to her nor can they just leave even when they’re clearly annoyed and fed up at having to do the work.  

Lastly they’re untrained. They lack the skills and tools to this job. You need an architect, you need a safety inspector, you need actual carpenters and masonries ... maybe even an interior decorator... The point is you need trained professionals and part of being an administrator is using government funding to hire these people in order to make sure the work gets done safely and efficiently and create jobs and keep money circulating through the economy.       

Rapunzel may not mean any harm. She might just be oblivious and untrained herself. But this is terrible leadership and the show never points that out. It never has her learn how to be a better a ruler so by the end of the series you don't feel she’s earned that title of Queen and you fear for the kingdom’s continued existence.   

So Why Is This Here?

Why would there be a Saporian map to a king of Corona’s tomb hidden in the wall? What’s the story behind this? 

Yes we know his wife was Saporian, but that doesn’t explain anything. Why would she need a map on the wall to her own husband’s resting place; assuming he didn’t out live her himself. Why would said map be carved into the wall of Corona’s castle and not written on a scroll? Why is it in Saporian when they don't speak that language in Corona? 

Like I could come up with explanations and create this whole backstory for Herz Der Sonne and the first Saporian/Coronian War, but at this point I’d just be doing the work of the writers for them. They’re the ones who introduced this lore and had it inform plot points and character motivation; and then failed to explain any of it to the audience and adequately have it all connect back together in a way that makes sense. 

The Moment When You Realize This Whole Episode Exists Because Zachary Levi Enjoys Doing an Ed Wynn Impersonation 

Ok time to explain some behind the scenes Info.

This is Ed Wynn. 

As you can tell from the gif above, he’s famous for voicing the Mad Hatter in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland. He’s also done a whole bunch of other stuff and was well known even before working with Disney, but the Mad Hatter is his most well remembered role today. 

Many actors, particularly voice actors, like to do impressions of him because he has such a distinctive voice. Including Eugene’s VA, Zachery Levi.  

Now I don’t know if the character of Feldspar was created specifically because the creators were inspired by Zachery Levi’s impression, or if they had this character already planned out and just casted him in the role since he could do it and it’d save them money. Either scenario is plausible and not unheard of in animation. But the long and short of it is, as a shoemaker, Feldspar is intended to be a parody of the Mad Hatter. That is why the character exists. 

Now as I said, this isn’t unusual for animated tv shows. Quite often you get main cast members to voice secondary and/or one off characters because it’s convenient, efficient, and doable when working with audio recordings. Also quite often voice actors will do impressions of other famous people to flesh out these background characters. It’s also not out of left field for these secondary characters to get an episode of focus if they’ve been around for awhile and keep popping up in the story. 

What is unusual, however, is to focus on said character in the final season when there are a bunch of other more important characters with unresolved arcs that need the screen time more. It’s an incredibly odd decision to highlight Feldspar here when we still got Varian readjusting back into society, Red and Angry settling into their new home, and Edmund running around off screen. And while some of these character feature in the episode, they’re just there for the jokes not for any development. 

What’s a “Sap Pond” and How Does That Even Work?

Ok its a fantasy world, I get it. But the franchise does try to have a distinction between the magical and the mundane. Or at least pretends to try and have a distinction. There’s to my knowledge no such thing as a ‘sap pond’, and if such a thing does exist I doubt it’s an actual deep pit full of tree sap as shown here. 

If you want characters to still be surprised by out of the ordinary occurrences and have the supernatural world be separate from the regular world; then you need to have the mundane world grounded in our known reality. Nature needs to function as real world nature would. If something exists in your world that doesn't in ours, then you need to either explain it or have the characters responded appropriately to it. 

But You’re a Prince Now?

Look, I’ll buy that season one Eugene didn’t have unlimited access to the royal treasury as he and Rapunzel were still new to their roles and their relationship. But it’s been over two years since the movie ended. 

Since then Eugene and Rapunzel have lived together, shared finances together, and currently are co-acting rulers of the kingdom. He’s also a bonified prince in of itself on top of being practically married to princess/queen. 

Yeah I said it. Part of what makes season three so frustrating is that Rapunzel and Eugene are functionally married at this point, they just haven’t gone through the ceremony yet, and there’s no stated reason for why they keep dragging things out.  

This is why we get out of place jokes like this that no longer reflect who Eugene is now as a person and feel like they belong back in season one or the even the movie itself. 

I can understand if he wanted to join in the competition because it’s fun, but he’s not poor. Neither he nor Rapunzel needs the treasure. I’m not sure even Lance needs it because as Eugene’s best friend/adopted brother he’s piratically nobility at this point as well. 

Royalty and the rich are not and never will be underdogs show. Stop trying to make them such. 

So Why Feldspar Again? 

This is such a half assed plot point. 

Remember Rapunzel literally pulled out a book earlier to translate the map.  Xavier not only knows the legends about the Saporians, but also keeps a book of magic lying around, and the Saporians are the only human people who have functioning magic in the show as part of their culture.    Varian spent a year living and working with the Saporian leader, and knows how to decipher ancient scrolls written in dead languages.  And said Saporians, are being currently held in the dungeons of the castle.  

But you’re telling me that only a random cobbler can read the warning clearly written on the map? 

They give some bullshit reason as to why Feldspar knows Sapoprian but it doesn’t matter. It’s a forced and contrived excuse to get the character involved in a plot he has no business being in. The story fails to justify the use him over the other more prominent characters who have closer ties to this particular subplot. 

And We’re Suppose to Believe That Herz Der Sonne Was a Good Guy?

Why would a benevolent king who supposedly brought peace to a warring land have a doomsday curse involving zombies? Why would said king be enshrined a tomb that’s not native to his culture? What even is the treasure and why be buried with it? 

There’s clearly more going on here regarding Corona’s past and the treatment of the Saporians as a people in their own right, but the show never does anything with it. Why introduce these complexities and world building if you’re not going to tell a story with them? Why have the Saporian subplot at all in a series already over stuffed with villains if you aren’t going to have them challenge your protagonist and have her grow into a more mature person? 

I’m not dunking on the series for being ambitious nor for having flavor text to help flesh out the world, but it so aggravating that there’s no follow through on the show’s set ups and narrative promises. If you’re not going to give the needed focus to something then just don’t put it in. Cause once it’s aired you’re committed to it and the audience is going to hold you to account. 

I haven’t seen plot mismanagement this bad since the 80s; back when cartoons had to battle network syndication, episode commissions instead of contracted seasons, and could be canceled at any time without prior notice. Now there’s still plenty of bad practices going on in the industry, especially as the move to streaming messes with things, but Tangled does not have the same excuses as say Johnny Quest, Dungeons and Dragons, or even Gargoyles did. 

How Do You Even Know That Would Work, Rapunzel?

No seriously, how does Rapunzel know that putting the treasure chest back on the pedestal will stop the cruse? That hasn’t been established yet by any known source of information. Heck no one knew what the curse actually entailed until it was activated. Except for Xavier who oh so conveniently didn’t say anything until the last moment. If anyone should have the knowledge to on how to end the curse it’s him. But nope we gotta make the Rapunzel the infallible hero who is always right for no logical reason.  

I don’t know how to explain this to you show, but perfect is boring. No one wants a flawless protagonist who can do it all 24/7 without any help whatsoever. And it becomes down right annoying to watch a hero who is clearly flawed still put upon a narrative pedestal as if they weren’t. 

So Why is Varian Suddenly Useless In This Fight?

This entire climax is about showcasing the ‘power of teamwork’ by having the characters use their various skills sets and work together to defeat the enemy. 

Except for Varian. 

He’s treated at best as a spectator to the unfolding events and at worst as a damsel in distress. 

Varian. You know the guy who is the series most competent and threating antagonist. Who brought an entire kingdom to it’s knees, twice. The only other character besides Rapunzel herself who could and does hold his own against other major antagonists, including super powered ones.  

If this was just a one off incident, I’d just shrug it away as him being a glass cannon; insanely overpowered when well prepared but easily out of his depth when not. But that’s not what’s happening here. 

Season three constantly nerfs Varian’s abilities, same as they did back in The Alchemist Returns, and there’s three reasons for this. 

The first is to try and stop him from overshadowing Rapunzel and Cassandra. The writers don’t want to give him any more story focus for fear of him being more popular the the two girls. Which is a ridiculous and petty reason to write a character OOC but there you go. 

The second is the on going issue of making Rapunzel needlessly the center of any and all solutions to every problem regardless of her level of involvement in the initial conflict. Yes, it’s her show, but she’s still not the whole world. Other people exist outside of her and it’s not fair to anybody when the writers ignore that simple fact.   

Last is the writers sacrificing established character for a joke. And as already pointed out, even in this very review, Varian’s not the only character to fall victim to this. It’s just bad writing. Yeah the joke might be funny in the moment but you run the risk of jarring you’re audience’s immersion. In a series like Tangled where you’re constantly asking the audience to suspend their disbelief, humor needs to be firmly rooted in the characters natural behaviors and must evolve to match any character development.   

Why not just have Varian throw a chimball or two, run out cause he wasn’t planning on fighting anybody that day, and then have the other characters rescue him? It’s not that hard to work in a joke while still being respectful of the characters.  

So What Does Anybody Learn From This Episode?

Yeah the other characters learn some vague lesson on teamwork and getting along or something, but they’re not the focus of the episode. What do Rapunzel and Feldspar learn? 

Unlike some people I don’t mind Feldspar’s existence. When’s he’s kept as a background character he works. In fact he’s one of the few townspeople who do work as intended, because he’s representative of the everyday citizen who’s often on the outside looking in on these fantastical events and therefore gives insight into what’s going on and the populous’ opinions on things without being a major player in anything. 

That's fine, needed even, and I don’t mind him getting a single focus episode to gain a greater insight into how this world works or even flesh out his character more, but that’s not what we got. Feldspar doesn’t grow as a character because of this episode. I, as the viewer watching, learn nothing about him nor his life that I didn’t already know. This resolution with him resolves nothing cause it’s a ending for a conflict that was never established beforehand.  

In fact what even was the main conflict of the story? Rapunzel being annoyed by Feldspar? Ok and..? Did she need to learn not to be annoyed by him? Was that a thing that needed to be addressed? Hasn’t Rapunzel already put up with annoying people before now? Was was this deficiency of character actually solved by this one interaction? Has she learned to be more appreciative, attentive, or open minded of others? 

If you tell me it’s Rapunzel’s show then I expect Rapunzel to actually learn shit! 

I expect the external conflicts to tie back into her interpersonal conflicts. If the external conflict does not do that than there better well be a another character who gets that focus instead without her hogging the limelight. 

This Dynamic Adds Nothing

They set up this friendship with Varian and Xavier and it doesn't go anywhere. It never comes back into play and we never see them interacting on screen together again. It also undermines a future plot point that’s coming up later. 

More over it doesn’t further either of their characters. 

Xavier is still an extraneous exposition fairy. Turning his flat characterization into a one note joke does not erase that fact. Giving him a kid to tell stories to doesn’t explain his place in the narrative or give him purpose to the story. We still don’t know why he has these connections to magic nor how he knows all the this lore, and he doesn’t push the plot forward. 

Meanwhile Varian maybe lonely but that doesn’t mean he needs yet another mentor figure in his life. We already have his father, who we barely see him interact with since coming back, and all his other ‘friends’ are way older then him already as well. Rapunzel’s the closest in age to him and she is constantly condescending to, well everybody, as she pretends to be more mature than she actually is. There’s no one in the story who Varian is on equal footing with, and no Angry and Red don't count as they’re far younger than him. 

I don’t know what this series has against teenagers but it showcases some very unhealthy depictions of them; ether by constantly infantilizing them, traumatizing them while subjecting them to parentification, or just flat out ignoring their existence all together. 

Teenagers exist and they need to be treated as teenagers. I don’t know how to put it more simply than that. Teens aren’t children. Teens aren’t adults. They’re teens. And when writing for them you need to understand that difference and acknowledge that they have a completely different phycological development and placement within society to anybody else. That’s why the category of adolescence exists separately from childhood and adulthood in the first place.   

So to tie things back to the first point. The concept of Xavier and Varian having a friendship is not a problem. But as with so many things on this show, it’s the surrounding context and lack of follow through where the issues arises. 

Varian needs a friend his age, who is his equal, more so than a mentor; if indeed Xavier is even intended to serve that function as he doesn’t do any real mentoring. This should have been an opportunity to bring Faith in and establish her better. In fact it’s reasons like this why she should have been a bigger character all along but we’ll get more into that as we get to her only ‘focus’ episode. 

Conclusion 

It’s fun seeing all the various character interactions and unique team ups. Also the humor does work. The jokes do land even if they do bulldoze through established canon. Plus seeing Rapunzel actually annoyed by shit going on around her is always entertaining as it humanizes her. If watched in isolation from the rest of season three, this is an enjoyable episode. But that’s it’s core problem. I shouldn’t have to find filler to keep me going in the last leg of the show. 

This was pretty short comparatively speaking with the rest of the ones I have to write for S3, but longer ones are going to come out more slowly just due to real life and time. As always though you’re support is helpful in keeping going, and if you feel like you can donate to my Ko-fi and leave a tip there. 

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[euterp3]

🌺Leorio Fluff ABC🌺

Some soft Leorio Headcanons because the tag is EMPTY. 🌺 Enjoy the Leorio Fluff ABC! More under the cut ✨

A = affection (how affectionate are they in day to day life? Do they show affection publicly or keep that more in private?)

FOREHEAD KISSES. I take Leorio as a person, who likes to keep his affection private, but whenever you’re out in public he’ll hold your hand, give you short forehead kisses or just stays close to you. But at home, he’s way more affectionate. He’ll hug you from behind, cuddle with you while watching TV or give you a lot of soft kisses.

B = best memory (what is the best memory they have with you)

His favorite memory is going on a spontaneous car trip with you in the middle of the night. The two of you screaming your favorite songs while he drives, stopping in the middle of nowhere to look at the stars.

C = cat or dog person

Both. Leorio probably loves both animals to pieces, don’t make him choose 😭

D = dreams (what do they want to do in life?)

Well, aside from finally becoming a doctor, I’d assume that Leorio would want to live with his s/o in a pretty house, maybe a family, if his partner would agree.

E = evenings (how do they spend their evening? So they go out? Do they read?)

Since Leorio has to learn a TON for his exams and studies, he’ll probably learn a lot at home but still tries to leave spend his evenings with you. Either at home or he takes you out occasionally. If you stay at home, prepare for cuddly movie evenings with popcorn and ice cream.

F = first date (what was it like?)

Gosh, he is N E R V O U S. You guys talked about how bad his cooking skills are, so you invite him over to cook something with you. After finishing the meal, you two sit on your couch and start watching the show Leorio has been talking about for the last weeks. He slowly comes closer and asks you, if you would comfortable with him putting an arm around your shoulders. You agree and lean closer to him. Leorio is absolutely tensed up, until you turn around and laugh at him. He slowly realises, that there is no need to be this tense and opens up.

(after that you guys decided to go on a few more dates until he finally asks you out <3)

G = giggle (what is their laugh like? What makes them laugh?)

A warm, hearty laugh! Leorio is such an open person, so I think he would genuinely enjoy bad dad jokes, terrible puns or funny moments with his friends.

H = hugs (do they like hug? What kind of hugs do the give?)

Give this poor man a hug, he’s stressed out 😭 he is probably pretty touch starved and loves hugs so much, since he rarely gets some.

I = instrument (do they play an instrument?)

If Leorio could play an instrument, I’d take him for an acoustic guitar or even ukulele player.

J = joy (what brings them joy in life?)

His friends, his partner, M o n e y. And spending quality time with his favorite people.

K = kisses (what kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?)

Leorio likes to pamper his partner with kisses and as soon as he knows that they’re comfortable with it, he will do it as often as he can. His kisses are either soft and loving or very heated and passionate.

L = love (how do they act when they have a crush)

What a dork. He’s so helpless and tries to impress you so much but he’s actually embarrassing himself. Expect a lot of secondhand embarrassment until his friends (probably Kurapika) can’t take it anymore and talk to him. He’ll deny it at first but admit it after a while. After that talk, Leorio will try to act more normal around you, but still flustered.

M = memory (what’s their favourite memory?)

That one time you two decided to go on a roadtrip in the middle of the night after Leorio finally finished his exams for the semester. The semester has been extremely stressful, so he was happy to take a breather. After driving for hours in the middle of nowhere while listening to your playlist with your favorite songs, you take a short walk to watch the stars.

N = no (what is their pet peeve?)

Leorio is a very insecure about the dark under-eye rings he got due to his terribly exhausting shifts. Please don’t make fun of this handsome Himbo.

O = occupation (what’s their dream job?)

Emergency Doctor 🌺

P = parent (what kind of parent would they be?)

The best dad with the worst jokes. A very loving parent but still strict enough to raise his children right.

Q = questions (do they believe in the super natural? Aliens? Anything along those lines)

After meeting so many different people in his life, I bet he’s ready for everything and everyone else.

R = romantic (are they romantic during the relationship?)

What a sap. He loves to spoil you with little thoughtful gifts. I imagines Leorio’s love language to be gifts and quality time since he’s sometimes at a loss of words.

S = smile (what makes them smile without fail)

Literally everything. But most likely his partner, friends, loving memories and looking back at all the achievements he’s made in his life.

T = together (how clingy are they? How long do you two spend together per day on average)

Since our man is always busy or needs to learn, he tries to spend at least a few hours with you, even if it means just sitting next to you while he’s learning for his exams.

U = unbearable (what habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable)

Leorio leaves his dirty socks all over your shared flat for you to find them, which drives you INSANE sometimes. On the other hand, he hates it when you forget to open the window after showering and often complains about you sitting too close to your phone since it’s bad for your posture and eyes.

V = videos (do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

He takes a decent amount of cute selfies of you two, with either funny moments or adorable filter.

W = wedding (what was the wedding like?)

Your wedding was a very lovely and smaller feast with all of your loved ones. Leorio prefers quality over quantity and wanted you to enjoy your special day to the fullest. (also, imagine this beautiful man in a wedding suit, my heart-)

X = eXtra (what’s an interesting fact about them that they don’t tell anyone about?)

After your first cooking date, he decided that he’d need to learn how to cook properly in order to impress you. He learned pretty quickly and was so proud of himself when he surprised you with a pretty good meal (for Leorio Standard)

Y = yuck (what do they hate? Could be a food, scent, word anything)

Late night shifts at work. They exhaust him the most and he often forgets to count how many cups of coffee he already had.

Z = zzzz (how heavy of a sleeper are they? How do they sleep? What mood do they wake up in? Really any sleeping headcanons)

Shifts in hospitals are absolutely terrible and exhausting, so Leorio probably suffers from insomnia and is always tired. It often happens that he planned something with you for the evening, but falls asleep next so you instead because he is just so tired. He also loves to cuddle with you to fall asleep or makes you read him stories until he falls asleep. He also likes to sleep in on his days off. 🌺

Ah, that was fun to write!! I know, that I'm definitely rusty asf but I hope you like it nonetheless 💕

[ratsoh-writes]

I'm sorry for sending this through submissions, but it was too long for an ask. ;A;

Personality

  I can come across as distant and apathetic, but it’s because I take a long time to open up. I’m very anxious and scared being rejected and letting people down, so I try not to get too attached too quickly… but always seem to fail. I am insecure and find it hard to speak up whether it be for someone else or myself. I am an overthinker and take forever to decide on anything. I try my best to be respectful, friendly, and polite to people even though our opinions might be different.

I am very loyal and stick close to those I love, but I can be too forgiving and have been hurt badly a few times. I try hard at everything I put my mind to, but this often leads to me overexerting myself and having to nap for a few days afterwards and feeling terrible about being unproductive. I am not good at comforting others, but I will try my best. I’m not good with words, so I will often use actions and gifts instead to show my feelings.

  My soul type is Perseverance.

  Hobbies/Likes

  I enjoy arts and crafts, and love to draw and sketch. I usually have a more cartoony style but do try a little realism now and then.  I enjoy reading books and watching movies/series. Some of my favourite genres are Sci-fi, Thriller/Psychological Horror, and “Choose your Own Adventure”s, but I also like Documentaries and some Comedies/Romantic Comedies. Games-wise I prefer an engaging story or something chill like animal crossing or puzzles.

  Dislikes

I am not a fan of swearing, but it’s not a deal breaker. I also dislike action movies.

  Deal Breakers

  Smoking and drug use is a big deal breaker. I have 3 gorgeous pet rats who are very prone to respiratory issues, as well as some pretty bad experiences with family taking recreational drugs. If you cannot give up smoking or drugs, then I’m not the person for you.

  Qualities I Am Attracted To

  I love to cuddle, so I’d like someone soft and sweet who would down for long cuddles and lazy mornings. How you treat your family is a big hint to how you’re likely to treat me, so if I find you showing love for and getting along with your family, I’m likely to be drawn to you. I like jokes, and would like someone who can make me laugh, too.

   Flaws: I have a bad memory, as in I can say something and immediately forget what I said and could not describe what you were wearing if you were to go missing that same day.

My Strengths: I’m a really good cook and can easily improvise recipes on the spot.

  Physical Description

  Average height, but chubby weight. Hazel eyes (Brown inner, green outer) with black squarish glasses and wavy brown hair. I like soft feeling clothes and wear mostly neutrals. I love knitted jumpers and shirts. I will dress up for dates with light make-up and nice dresses, but only for special occasions… Or if I’m feeling insecure and need a bit of a pick-me-up.

Alright, the matchup is under the cut

There’s a couple of guys that would work well for you! After flipping a few coins, you ended up with………. WINE (fellswap gold sans)!

Wine is actually a pretty good partner for shyer and anxious SOs. He has the patience of a saint when he’s invested and is great with his words. Wine knows just what buttons to push to get his SO to calm down a bit.

What attracts him to you is your loyalty and willingness to forgive. Wine wants someone he can settle with who won’t drag out arguments. He also likes how you seem to always keep heading forward even though it may be hard. It’s a quality wine appreciates in people

Wine is both a verbal lover and a gift giver. He makes you melt with his smooth words and he loves to spoil you. He would prefer a SO who is ok being the housewife/husband. It makes wine feel good to be the provider

Wine is a huge fan of art and would love watching you work on your pieces. Especially the realism stuff, but he’ll appreciate the cartoons too. He’s pretty knowledgeable on what art supplies are the best. New art toys are a common gift from him

Wine likes shy SOs because he gets to see them internally struggle when they want attention. Call him vain, but he likes seeing that look on their face and knowing he’s the cause for it. I’m sorry. He’s not

Some other guys you could’ve worked with were sans, mutt, peaches, and rust