#I have seen some of them every single week day for the past almost 3 years

[daydreamingmiller]

need a federal investigation into why basic decency is so difficult for some people. just like bare bones politeness. why do some people struggle SO badly.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Mr. Right Now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, past trauma of not feeling good enough, it's better off being alone angst, minor fluff at the end

Summary: As a divorcee with three kids, it’s hard to open up to men and allow them into your children’s lives. You’re a single mother who is just trying to get through each day until you meet Bucky. He might be the one you’ve been searching for all this time. Can you put aside your fears enough to let him in?

Squares Filled: band (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

The only time you’re able to go to the grocery store in the summertime is when you don’t have your kids hanging off your every limb. Your oldest daughter and son are at a summer camp you were able to get them into while your youngest daughter is being watched by your mother who had some time for you to get errands done.

Whoever said parenting was the best thing in the world was lying because you want to cry most days. It’s not that you don’t love your children, you absolutely love them with all your heart. You want nothing more in the world than to be their mom but it’s hard some days. You’re a single mom to three kids which takes a lot out of you. You have no time to do anything for yourself. Whenever they’re at school, you spend your days taking care of your baby girl and cleaning the house only for them to return and mess it up all over again.

Being a mom is one of the hardest jobs in the world and it’s not for everyone. However, when you had your kids, you weren't alone. You had a husband who you thought would be with you forever. Then, you caught him with a twenty-year-old in your bed and that set you back decades. It took you a long time to find someone else after him, which you did, and you thought you had gotten your second chance at love.

He was a breath of fresh air after struggling for years. You only had two kids at the time but it was still a handful since they were both so young. You and your second husband had a daughter together, and you thought this was it. This is your family.

Then, he left without warning. He told you that he didn’t love you anymore and wanted nothing to do with you or your kids. He threatened to take Abby but you fought him through a lawsuit. He was bouncing between homes and didn’t have a steady income, all of which you had. If you thought your first husband was bad, your second husband broke you completely.

You swore off men after that. All you want to do is take care of your kids and live life on your own. It’s hard but you know you can do it. Your mother has been very supportive of you and helps out when she can but she’s much older and can’t do stuff like she normally could. Your father passed a decade ago so neither of you have him to fall back on. Your brother and sister moved out of the country when they turned eighteen and haven’t looked back since.

You’re truly on your own which you never minded until now.

You fill your shopping cart as you go down the list you made before leaving the house, and you look at the next item on your list. You’re not looking where you’re going and almost run into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp and look up.

You gasp again but it’s not from the shock of running into him. This man is… You don’t think you ever saw a more handsome man in your life. He’s tall, like a whole foot taller than you, and has dark hair that is not too long. His eyes are bright blue oceans and he is very muscular.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry,” you mutter.

You’re about to move around him to continue your shopping when he stops you.

“I haven’t seen you around here and I come here every week.”

“Oh, yeah. I usually get my groceries delivered but I had some time today to do it myself.”

“I’m Bucky,” he smiles.

Damn, he has such a great smile, too.

“Y/N.”

“Do you care for some company while you finish?”

“Sure,” you smile. “So, Bucky, have you lived in Washington D.C. for long?”

“On and off. I used to live here years ago. I just recently came back and am now living with my two best friends. You?”

“I just moved here a year ago. I had to get away from… stuff… I used to live in Nevada and thought a change would do me good.”

“Lucky me that you did,” he flirts.

You can’t help the blush that forms on your face. You’re not used to compliments. You finish the rest of your shopping quickly but you don’t want to stop talking to Bucky. He’s the first man you have had such an easy conversation with in a long time. Your mom wants you to put yourself out there again and try dating but you can’t think of anything worse than that. Dating means bringing a new man into your kids’ lives who will probably leave you. You’re not going to do that to them again so you’ll settle for stolen conversations in the grocery store.

Still, you find yourself not wanting to leave the store because then you’ll have to stop talking to Bucky. However, when your mom calls about Abby crying because she’s hungry and you haven’t pumped a bottle for her. She can eat solid food but she loves your milk more. You’re trying to transition her into solid foods but it’s a work in progress.

“Sorry. I have to get back home.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It was really nice to talk to you, though. Maybe I’ll see you back here again.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nods.

You’re gone before he can ask you for your number. You can’t stop thinking about Bucky. You never met a man who could invade all your senses. Your mother left after you got back and you spent the next hour feeding your daughter and putting the groceries away. You put your daughter down for a nap when your phone rings. You take the call when you get to the kitchen to finish with the groceries.

“Hey, Emma.”

“Y/N! You know that band that Leslie goes on and on about?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re playing a gig at The Twisted Bar this weekend. You gotta come with us!”

“I don’t know. I have Abby and I don’t have a sitter.”

“Bring her here. My husband would love to watch her. He’s been so tied with the boys that it’d be nice to watch a girl.”

“Are you sure? What if she gets hungry? She only seems to want my milk.”

“Then pump before coming here. It’s been such a long time since we all went out. Just once stop worrying about your kids. Jace and Lizzy are at camp and it’s likely Abby will sleep the whole night.”

You’re still not sure. Going out with your friends usually ends in one of two ways: either you end up going home early because your kids need you or you end up going home early because all the girls want to do is flirt with men. They’d never cheat on their husbands and they never take it past the occasional flirty comment. When they get like this, guys love to flirt with you and that’s when you call it a night.

You’re not some horny teenager looking for a fun time. You have kids and if these men knew about it, they’d never flirt with you. It’s tiring to go to bars and reject every man because you know what it’s going to lead to.

Still, it’d be nice to go out with your friends since it’s been so long.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but I’m not going there to take some man home.”

“Got it. This is going to be so much fun! Want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll meet you there. What time?”

“Six.”

“I’ll bring Abby over at five, then. We can leave together but I’ll need my car just in case.”

You and Emma talk for a little while longer until you hang up. Friday comes quicker than you’d like, and you had just dropped Abby off at Emma’s house. You’re nervous to leave her alone but you’ve been friends with Emma and Robert for decades so you figure you’d trust them with your kids sooner or later.

You and Emma arrive at The Twisted Bar right after Leslie, Jackie, and April get there. It’s a reunion of the decade since you haven’t seen April in years and Jackie for longer. It’s been hard finding time away from your kids.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you finally made it!” Leslie squeals and pulls you into a hug.

“Eh, I figure it’s time to see my girls.”

“It has been a long time,” April comments.

Leslie grabs drinks while you sit at a table that’s near the band that’s setting up. Leslie has been in love with them ever since she saw them opening for Bon Jovi a few years ago. They’ve been slowly rising to fame but they love playing in small bars to stay connected to their fans. Leslie comes back with the drinks and you sip yours leisurely while your friends down theirs quickly. It’s dangerous when you don’t taste the alcohol; that’s how you get drunk quickly.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some water.”

Your friends wave you off, too invested in the music to listen. You shake your head with a smile and make your way to the bar counter. You look away for a second and run into someone seconds later.

“Hey, Y/N!” You look at the person and see Bucky standing there. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You pause after hearing how that sounds. “Sorry, that sounds weird. I mean, hi.”

“Hi,” he laughs. “I’m with my roommates. They’re here to see the band. They wanted me to come out.”

“Same.”

“I was hoping to see you. I really liked talking to you the other day.”

“Same here.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.”

Bucky gets you and himself a drink before escorting you to one of the back tables. Most everyone is up front listening to the band so the back is clear of crowds. It’s easier to hear him, too.

“So, I know I’ve said this but you… Okay, I’m not very good at this. My friend, Steve, says I need to get out more but I actually like staying in and being alone. I don’t normally do this but I really enjoyed talking to you. Can I have your number?”

Just like that, your entire world shatters. You like Bucky but now that he wants to take the next step, he’s becoming a real person instead. A real person who you might have to take home to your kids. A real person who will just leave you like everyone else. You don’t want to do this to Bucky but you scoff in annoyance.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, Bucky. Look, I gotta get back to my friends.”

“Wait, is it something I said? You don’t have to give me your number if you don’t want to. I just… You’re beautiful and funny. I had a great time with you at the grocery store.”

You don’t mean to be rude or snappy with Bucky but you’re sick and tired of men feigning interest in you only to leave you and your kids. You’re not going to put them through all that trouble if the man isn’t going to stay. If you don’t give men the light of day, then they can’t leave you.

“You want my number?”

“I do.”

“Which number do you want, Bucky?”

“Uh, well, how many numbers do you have?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, I have numbers coming out of my ears. For instance, ten.”

“Ten?”

“Yeah. That’s how many months old my baby girl is.”

Bucky’s face doesn’t fall in disgust but he’s not jumping for joy either. Tears prick your eyes but you won’t let them fall.

“You have a baby girl?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sexy, huh? How about this for a number? Six. That’s how old my other daughter is. Eight is the age of my son. Two is how many times I’ve been married and divorced. Sixteen is the number of dollars I have in my bank account. 480-555-0199. That’s my phone number, and with all the numbers I just gave you, I’m guessing zero is the number of times you’re gonna call it. You’re nice, Bucky, but I’ve been down this road too many times. I will not allow my children to meet a man I know won’t stay in my life. Really, it was nice talking to you but no man wants a woman with three children.”

You grab your drink and leave the table but stop when you hear your phone ringing. You take out your phone and notice a number you don’t recognize. Knowing your daughter is with someone else who’s not your mother, you answer it thinking Leslie’s kids are using their phones to call you.

“Hello?”

“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why anyone would leave you. I understand the walls you’ve put up. I understand why you don’t date or don’t trust men, especially around your kids. I understand that you had to put yourself back together multiple times. I’m not dismissing that, but I can promise you that I am not like other men. I don’t abandon people and I happen to love kids. If you give me a chance, I would love to show you that you’re not a piece of ass. You’re not a notch on someone’s belt. You’re a woman who I would love to get to know.”

You turn to face Bucky who has his phone to his ear. The tears are already coming down whether you want them to or not.

“All I ask for is a chance.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Maybe it’s you who needs to give him a chance. Then maybe, you’ll finally find the one person you’ve been looking for.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[forever-once-gone]

Day 3: Yoongi - You Meet Your Fated at a Coffee Shop <3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February! (lol)

Word count: 3.7k (can't keep them short for the life of me)

Content and Warnings: soulmate au, coffee shop au, gn!reader, sharing preferences, arguing, frustration, they're both a bit dense lol, but other than that nothing too terrible in this, just sweet honestly, almost throwing up, coffee snob!Yoongi, barista!Yoongi, mocha slander, terms of endearment: baby, dear, Y/n is ready to FIGHT

Author's Note: Hey! So like I know it is well past Feb, but tbh it was crazy of me to even think id have time to publish these things during midterms season. Even though I had reading week, it was just not going to happen. Even though I did manage to write some of the days, I obviously couldn't every day. And posting? Forget about it. Anyway, even if it's past Feb, would you want me to post the ones I did write? It won't be instantaneous, but I would like to share what I did write, and maybe even finish all the other days as I had already planned out what I wanted to write each day. Let me know if you're interested! Anyways, as always, enjoy! <3

Another mocha, just another mocha to fill up in the takeaway cup for another person who is trying to get through the February cold. Yoongi gets a lot of mocha requests before the winter holidays season. When so many are hyped up with Christmas cheer. Even people who do not celebrate Christmas tend to indulge in peppermint mochas when the snow hits the ground. And the trend trickled into the post holiday months every winter season. To the point when people ordered mochas even into early spring.

Yoongi, ever the coffee enthusiast, hated having to make so many mochas.

Frankly, he considered mochas just snobby chocolate milk with the smallest hint of caffeine. Like do mochas even deserve to be considered coffee-based beverages? He thought not. You could barely even taste the coffee in between the thick, tongue-coating taste of chocolate and the heaviness of way too much milk.

Everytime he had to make mochas, every single time, he’d be cursing in his head about how he would rather just be able to make his espressos, black coffees, and iced americanos. Iced americanos are the most he’d be willing to go when it comes to diffusing the taste of coffee.

Adding milk? Forget it.

Adding sugar? He’d rather just pour it down the drain than drink it.

Alas, when it comes to his job, he has to fulfill the customer’s wishes. No matter how much he hated the sugary, barely-even-coffee, more-like-milkshakes drinks, he would make the drink for them. A waste of good coffee in his books, but he needed the money that came from his overpriced caffeinated chocolate milk 

So, when it came to a coffee-novice coming into his coffee shop asking for a mocha, he would grit his teeth but make the drink nonetheless, the underline he requires to be able to pay his shop’s mortgage and keep all of his employees.

It was another one of these spring days when he’d unlocked the front doors of the café only to see someone new. Normally, only a few select people would come to his café so early in the morning, after all, most people started work at 9 or later. Only a few people would come at 5:30 when he opened. But today, there was someone new.

There was you, a person he’d never seen before standing behind his regulars. A cheery looking person, giving him a smile when he unlocked the door and opened it for the small group of people to trickle in.

He made his way behind the counter as he began his small routine with his regulars, smiling at each one of them as they gave him their orders, even though there really was no need as he had gotten each one of them memorized ages ago.

He took and prepared each order with practiced ease, until he got to the last person in line. The one who had spent the last ten minutes scanning the chalkboard menu with an analytical look.

You.

“Good morning,” you said to him with a kind smile.

“Good morning,” he replied. “What can I get started for you today?”

You wrung your hands, scanning the menu again, before looking back at him. “Can I get a large mocha?”

He scoffed. Seriously, chocolate this early in the morning? Typical from a cheery-looking person like yourself.

“What?” you asked, wondering if you’d broken some unspoken social cue. You’d seen the way he’d kindly spoken to the customers before you, making small talk, so what happened when it came to you?

“Nothing, nothing,” he waved you off, before pressing some buttons on his cash register’s screen. “That’ll be 5000 won.”

“No, no. That definitely was something. Did I say anything wrong?” You insisted, brows furrowed together in a mix of worry and a bit of indignation.

“No, not at all. It’ll be 5000 won.” He tried to force a smile, but your eyes were squinted together just as you did before when you were scanning the menu, but this time your object of interest was him.

“What? You just don’t like me or something?” You felt a bit uncomfortable, out of place in this cafe with a barista who seemed to hold a certain disdain for you from the moment you opened your mouth. But that didn’t mean you were going to back down from this entitled man. You eyed him up and down, letting him know the contempt was mutual.

He let out a small scoff, before seeming to recompose himself with customer service professionalism. “Of course not. I’m sorry if it seemed that way. Your total is 5000 won.”

You could see through his poorly reconstructed composure, but nonetheless gave him the requested money. You were already running late to your job interview, and you needed this job if you hoped to actually be able to rent a place in this city. You had already spent three weeks staying with your friend after moving here from your old city. You couldn’t stay with her forever, even if she was willing to keep you for forever if you needed it.

You stepped away from the register after he had given you your change and moved away to make your drink. You took the time to continue admiring the interior of the cafe as the barista flew around his counter space. You took in the worn furniture resembling something half between industrial and contemporary. The hanging lights and the various maps lining the walls of the place. Very hipster. Fitting for a coffee shop.

The call of: “One large mocha?” brought you back from your inspection. With a hum, you took your drink from him, feeling the drink warm your gloved hands.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, have a nice day.” And with that he was moving back to his dishes to clean up the dishes he’d used before the next customers wandered in.

You turned away from him, moving towards the door. Before you pushed open the door to brave into the cold, you flipped open the flap on the top of the to-go cup. You took a quick sip, ready for the delicious drink to coat your tongue, but instead your tastebuds were assaulted with a heinous amount of sugar. It tasted like you’d boiled a pool full of chocolate and dumped a truck full of sugar and then reduced the entire pool full over a roaring fire until only a cup of the concentrated mixture remained full of pure chocolate and sugar.

You immediately turned back on your heel. Pressing your tongue against the tip of your mouth, trying to rid it of the sweet assault. “You messed up,” you slammed the cup on the counter, seeing the barista’s shoulders jump at the loud thump.

“What’s the issue?” he asked, as he wiped off his hands on a hand towel before flipping it onto his shoulder. He leaned onto the counter with the palms of his hands, not even trying to hide his annoyance with you anymore considering the frown he sent your way.

“This is way too sweet. Like what, did you dump a whole bag of sugar into this thing?” You nudged the cup towards him. “If you didn’t like me, you could have just refused to take my order, you didn’t have to do all this!” You gestured to the cup.

“Please, I need you to calm down. I didn’t do anything to your drink. It’s just a regular mocha. Mochas are sweet, you should have known that before you ordered it for the first time.” He rolled his eyes slightly.

“First time? Oh, honey, no—I know what mochas are meant to taste like and this is not it. It’s practically the only thing I ever get!”

He scoffed yet again. Typical, he thought to himself. Never would've guessed. “Just take your drink and go, I don’t have time for this.”

“You don’t believe me do you?” You said in disbelief. You never would dare fight with someone like this, but for some reason, this one guy was just getting on your nerves. Typically, even if your order had gotten mixed up you would just swallow your disappointment and try to enjoy the drink anyway. Even if it was something bitter and boring like a plain black coffee. But the way this man had been acting from the moment you ordered has been rude and completely ruined your confidence. Not what you needed at all before trying to get this job. And for some reason, it felt like all your senses and emotions had been turned up to 100, so controlling your anger was a lot harder.

“Drink it,” you told him, holding his eye contact. “Yeah, drink it. If you can drink even one gulp without making a face, I’ll admit I was wrong and leave.”

The barista tongued his cheek for a moment, contemplating what you said. “I don’t want to. I don’t like mochas, besides, I can’t drink a customer’s drink anyway.”

“I’m just gonna take your refusal as you admitting that you fucked with my drink.”

By this point the two people left in the shop were watching the two of you fighting at the counter. A middle aged man walked up to the counter, stepping in to try and defuse the situation. “Why don't you just take a sip of it, Yoongi? Just to prove them wrong?”

“I refuse,” the barista, Yoongi, said to the man. “It’s a matter of principle at this point. I’m not drinking it. I know my abilities, and I know that that mocha would be as good as mochas get. I’m not gonna take a sip of a nasty ass mocha just cause this person wants to throw a fuss at five in the morning.”

“So you admit you fucked with it?! You admitted it’s nasty!”

“No,” he rolled his eyes at you for the umpteenth time this morning. “I just hate mochas, they taste like shit. But anyone who likes those chocolatey messes will admit mine are as good as they get. I might not like them, but I still put all my effort into making sure they taste good.”

“Just fucking drink it then! I’m not joking, this tastes like shit. Maybe something is wrong with your milk steaming machine or something—this just isn’t right!”

The middle-aged man decided to try and put the fight to an end. “Why don’t I just give it a try, huh?”

“No!” But Yoongi and you said at the same time, before turning back to each other again.

“He refuses to admit it, and he has to be the one to try it!” You crossed your arms.

“And they’re the one who is making a big situation over nothing, you should never give in to people like them.” He glared at you. Now that his patrons were getting involved, he wanted to get you out as soon as possible.

“Just try it! I swear it’s unbelievable. Just give it one sip!” You threw up your arms in frustration. “Come on, I’m not even asking for a refund or anything, I just want you to admit that you took your anger out on me for no reason. That’s all, I don’t even want an apology!”

“I don’t need to apologize! I didn’t do anything wrong! That mocha is PERFECT! I’d bet my life on it.” Yoongi was fuming now, chest heaving with frustration and annoyance. He was this close to calling the cops on you and calling it a day.

“Oh shut up with the ‘perfect’ nonsense! It’s not perfect! Just try it! This whole thing would have been over ages ago if you just gave it a try!” You pulled the cap off of the cup. “If you’re afraid it’s poisoned, I’ll take a sip of it before you drink it. See look.” 

You took a swig of the drink, nearly choking on the sugary beverage as you tried to keep the concoction from coming right back up. You gagged for a second or two, before finally straightening back up, wiping your mouth with the back of your gloved hand.

The two men around you exchanged expressions, their anger turning more to disbelief. Either you were a great actor or that drink really, really sucked.

“There, see. I didn’t tamper with it. Now, please, please just try it. Please. Don’t make me look insane. Just try it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Fine. Fucking fine. I’ll try it. But if it tastes fine, you need to leave my shop and never come back, you hear me?”

“I swear. I won’t come back, don’t plan to anyway.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at that, before grabbing the lidless cup from the counter. He held it up, hesitated, and then said, “I really don’t like mochas,” with a scrunch of his nose. He took a breath and then took the smallest sip you’ve ever seen a human being take before slamming the cup down. His hand immediately came up to cover his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed.

You couldn’t bear to hide your smug look. How was he gonna hide how terrible the drink was now? He looked like he was going to throw up. Ha! That will show him!

But then he did the weirdest thing. He took another sip. A long sip this time. Other than his furrowed brows, he didn’t choke, gag, or even dry heave for a millisecond. Just watching him drink was making you nauseous.

“Oh my god!” you yelled, snatching the cup from his hands before he could take another sip, holding it up behind you, away from him. “You’re going to give yourself diabetes if you drink that whole thing!”

Immediately he tried to reach across the counter and get it back from you. “Hey! Give that back! This makes no sense!”

“Yoongi, calm down!” The man said, pushing the barista back off of the counter that he was practically leaning his whole body onto at this point.

“Why does it taste good?!” The distress that the barista was under put even you on pause. You watched the barista scramble around, rubbing at his head as if it was aching him. Was this the effect of all the sugar?

“Hey, man, you doing alright?” You placed the cup back down on the counter, holding a hand out to him to show you meant no harm.

He just shook his head, picking up a half empty mug from behind the counter that you had seen him periodically sipping from between the preparation of yours and the others’ drinks. He took a large gulp only to immediately run to the sink, spitting the drink right into the drain.

“Why does my coffee taste so heinous?! Why does it taste like fucking bitter gasoline? Why does the mocha taste so fucking good?!” He was still hunched over the sink, the only thing you could see of him was his back a bit of his lowered head. His arm reached to grab the hand towel on his shoulder to throw it to the side.

You had no answer for him. This was all so bizarre.

“This—” the middle aged man brought both your and Yoongi’s attention to him, as he brought the cup back to his lips for another sip. When had he taken your mocha from you? Was it when Yoongi was losing his mind? 

“This tastes…” He took another sip. His brows furrowed in concentration. 

“This tastes like a regular mocha.” He put the cup back down. “I think you guys need to calm down for a moment and think about what this means.”

“What do you mean?” you asked him.

“I think you know what I mean, dear.” The man had a kind-hearted look on his face as his eyes flitted between both you and Yoongi.

“OH MY GOD.” Yoongi grabbed the edge of the counter, seeming to understand the man’s insinuation. “There is no way.”

“What? What am I missing?” The man only shook his head as Yoongi raised his head to meet your gaze. He just pushed his half empty mug to you. Inside was black coffee.

“Try it. I need to see if it’s true.”

“Um, no. I don’t like black coffee. Yuck.” You nudged the mug right back to him only for him to stop the movement halfway. 

“That’s exactly why you have to try this,” Yoongi said as calmly as he could, though you could swear he looked almost like he could faint right then and there.

“Fine,” you took the mug from him. “Just cause you did drink the mocha.”

You swirled the dark liquid in the mug, debating whether it was worth it to drink the bitter liquid. But when you looked up to see that both the man and Yoongi were watching you like scientists inspecting their latest mutant rats for their observational notes, you just took a sip only to get them to stop staring at you.

Instantly your throat was soothed as the smooth taste of the perfectly roasted coffee made its way through your mouth. You’d never drunk anything so refreshing, so calming as it warmed you up from the inside out. Even though there was no sugar or cream, you surprisingly didn’t mind it as it allowed the rich flavour of the black coffee to shine through strongly. It tasted so good.

You didn’t put down the mug until you’d finished the whole thing.

The middle aged man had a small smile on his face, while Yoongi seemed to be still in his inspector mode.

“So,” the man began. “How was it?”

You thought about it for a second. “Good. Like really good. Like surprisingly good.”

The man clapped his hands. “Well there you have it. Congrats you two.”

You shook your head for a second, scrunching your face in annoyance. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi came around the counter, finally coming to stand beside you without anything between you two. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Easy, Yoongi. Don’t want to scare them off now do you?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the man but then nodded his head in understanding. “You don’t like black coffee right? Too bitter or something?”

You nodded. “Yeah, too bitter. I need more sugar or else I just can’t get it down.”

“And I hate mochas. They’re too sweet and you can’t even tell there is coffee in it since it's so overpowered by the sugar, chocolate, and milk.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me though?”

“But I just liked the mocha. Not just liked, I loved the mocha. And you loved the black coffee.”

“Yeah…” You waited for him to clarify further.

He waved his arm as if urging you to think further, but when you just cocked your head to the side in confusion, he dropped his arm back down to his side. “Seriously?” he asked, exasperated. “I hated my usual coffee and loved your mocha. And you hated your usual mocha and loved my coffee.”

You nodded your head, trying to understand what he was trying to get at. Until it just clicked, your eyes widening instantly, reaching to grab his elbows. “OH MY GOD! We’re soulmates! Oh my god! We switched preferences! We’re soulmates!” You threw your arms around him, pulling him as close to you as you could through your thick winter jacket.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, his arms reciprocating your grasp.

“Oh my god! I knew I was meant to move here! I have to tell my roommate! But wait—” you pushed him out of your hold.

Yoongi let out a light groan, as he caught himself from stumbling.

You pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You hate mochas, you black coffee supremacist!”

“Seriously?” Yoongi asked you. “That’s your biggest concern now?”

“Well yeah! I mean, I don’t know if my preferences will change back, but if they do, I can’t stay with a soulmate that thinks he’s superior to me because of his coffee preferences!”

Yoongi let out a small laugh, his lips tugging into a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I will never be able to hate mochas after today.”

Even with your finger still pointed at him, you felt your lips pull into a wide smile at the hidden meaning behind his words.

You both jumped at the clearing of a throat behind the two of you. The man had made his way to the front door of the coffee shop with his order in his hand. “Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to let you know that my wife, Maria, had been recording the entire thing in case you needed to call the police.” He nodded towards the other patron who had been at the shop when you and Yoongi had started fighting who was now standing holding the door open as she waited for her husband. “Let me know if you want the video of your first meeting, I’m sure your friends and family would love to see it,” he said between kind-hearted soft laughs, before leaving hand-in-hand with Maria.

“Maybe even our future grandkids,” you teased him happily, taking a step back towards him.

Yoongi just smiled in reply, showing off his perfect teeth to you.

You felt your heart swell.

He took another step towards you, grabbing a hold of your hands by your side. “I would like that.”

You heard the door chime as a customer walked into the coffee shop before their steps halted somewhere behind you.

“Uh, is this a bad time?” The customer asked from behind you.

“Give me a second,” Yoongi replied.

“Alright,” the person cleared their throat. “Just don’t want to be late for work.”

That seemed to jolt you out of your Yoongi admiring stupor. “Shit! I have an interview!” You tightened your hold on his hands before letting go.

By the time Yoongi realized what was going on, you were already halfway out the door.

“I’m going to be so late! I’ll be back later, okay, baby?” You had pushed the door open taking a step out before turning back to him. “I am allowed to come back right? Or am I still exiled from your shop?” You asked with a smile.

“Seriously?” He laughed, shaking his head as he made his way back behind the service counter. “Maybe you’ll just have to try your luck.”

“You’re impossible.” You laughed into your hand, waving your hand at him. “When I come back, if you don’t let me in, I’ll tell all your customers that I almost threw up after drinking your mocha.” You stuck out your tongue at him as he fake gasped, before finally actually leaving the shop.

Well, there's that.

So if you didn't get it, in this case, soulmates have different ways of finding out if they're meant to be in this universe. For Yoongi and Y/n, they met and ended up switching coffee preferences (or maybe even more preferences but the only thing they noticed so far is the coffee). Even though their reactions may seem extra, when you meet your soulmate all your emotions/feelings/everything is meant to be heightened. So they had each other's preferences, but n times stronger. So that's why they loved the other's preference like it was ambrosia, but their own preferences tasted like so bad to them. Y/n found the mocha wayyyy to sweet like Yoongi would usually, and Yoongi found the black coffee wayyyyy too bitter cause Y/n likes her coffee well sweetened and with a lot of stuff to mellow the coffee flavour.

But anyway, yes they're in love.

So yeah, do let me know if you want me to post the rest of these. It will be a slow process, but I would like to do so.

Take care!!

[fastcardotmp3]

Ronance; meeting at the wrong time and then again at the right time; past almost-cheating (not on each other); Nancy Wheeler's Joyous Divorce Era; Robin POV; 1.6k Written for @strangerthingsfemslash week day 2: women over thirty read day 1: different first meeting read day 3: secret relationship

“Go talk to her.” 

Robin shoots Steve a look for his whispering, for his little nudge of his shoulder against her own, for the sly little smile on his face and the nod of his head out towards the open sliding door leading out to the patio. 

“No, yeah, I’ll just go talk to her,” she snarks, throwing open the door to the refrigerator and staring at the collection of drinks and snacks available to her. 

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“You put all this work into throwing me a party and you want me to ruin it in one fell swoop?” she glares at him again, but his gaze is softer now behind his glasses, leaning back against the countertop with his hands and body language all open and unmalicious. 

It makes something in Robin slump, the sight of him, even in spite of the tension still holding too much attention on those patio doors. Her heart flutters at the thought of it, of just letting it all go and being able to talk like they used to. 

Share stories and memories and laughter like they’re still twenty-one and getting legally tipsy for the first time instead of standing here on the day Robin turns forty and Nancy is still—

“I get so stupid around her, Steve,” she exhales, still clinging to the handle of the refrigerator door, the chill of it raising goosebumps on her arms. “I get so stupid, and if he’s here too? I can’t— if he’s here, I just can’t deal with that.” 

Steve’s brow furrows slightly, but his posture doesn’t change. 

“Have you seen him?” he asks. “You think I wouldn’t warn you if he was going to be here today? On your birthday? Come on.”

He meets her gaze head-on, not a single sign of dishonesty in those big brown eyes that have been by her side through every stumble and triumph of the past twenty years, and Robin exhales. Watches him reach past her into the fridge for a half-empty bottle of Pinot Grigio and pour it deftly into two thin-stemmed glasses. 

“Go talk to her,” he insists, pressing one into either one of her hands, and all Robin can do is nod. 

Trust that he’s not leading her astray on this. 

Walk on unsteady feet to those patio doors and nudge it closed behind her with the thick sole of her boot. 

Nancy Wheeler is a vision. 

Sitting alone at the small metal table Robin had dragged all the way from her parents’ house a solid decade ago, the light of a new spring day dancing across the smattering of gray taking root in those dark curls, she’s a vision. 

But when has she ever not been? 

“Hi,” Robin croaks as her body alights with the touch of attention when Nancy startles and turns to look at her. “Can I sit?” 

For a moment, Robin thinks she’s ruined Nancy’s search for solitude, a thing which all of them who survived the unsurvivable understand to some degree or another. But almost the instant Nancy lays eyes on her, she’s relaxing again, something calm to her that Robin hardly recognizes in the years since… 

“I’d love that,” Nancy smiles and nods to the chair beside her. Close enough to touch, to at the very least feel the warmth that radiates from that soft skin which once upon a time Robin had— she had known. 

Even if only the once. The most beautiful of all of Robin’s nightmares. 

“Is that for me?” 

“Oh! Yes, yeah,” Robin sets down both glasses as she takes her seat, nudging Nancy’s close to her and watching the pink of her lips, listening to the hum of gratitude as she takes a small sip. “Santa Margarita, I know it’s…”

“My favorite,” Nancy is still smiling. Still so impossibly calm. 

Robin has seen her many times since they fell into Nancy’s bed together, since Robin saw a door closing as a new man came into Nancy’s life after the last and pushed her way into that gap with the wet heat of her tongue and thrust of her fingers. She had still only been dating him then, not even calling him her boyfriend. Robin had thought…

Well, she had thought.

But she’s seen her since then. It’s been five years, sure, and it’s never been the same as before, but they’re undoubtedly linked by the same group of people here today. 

Fighters and survivors and family built from fire and blood. Of course Robin has seen her since the night ended with soft touches and quiet giggles and the morning began with tears and running and slamming doors. 

Nancy hasn’t been calm like this in any of those instances, in any of those meetings. 

She’s so close. So warm. 

She asks Robin if the party is all that she’d hoped, if she’s enjoying her birthday, about her work as an EMT, the new gig she’s taken on training rookies, and the flowers budding in her garden. 

It’s small talk, but it makes Robin’s heart race, because Nancy hasn’t asked about her in a long time. Not directly anyway. They don’t talk, not like they used to, because there are too many layers of complication between them now. 

There’s the friendship they built in 1986 and the bond that only grew from that point forward, yes, but there’s also the way Robin has been desperately in love with Nancy for more of that time than she cares to admit and that they both know it. 

Having sex five years ago was just the cresting of a long-coming breaking point, and this is the fallout. Or at least, it was until today. 

Because Nancy asks about her life and she doesn’t shy away from sitting so close and she drinks her wine like nothing in the world is wrong and Robin is confused. 

Confusion that is only compounded when she tries to reciprocate, asking, “and how are you? How is, um, how is…” and trailing off as her gaze lands subconsciously on Nancy’s hands. Nails cut short and that same knobby knuckle where she broke it in ‘86 and never properly set it and a conspicuous lack of rings. 

Robin’s chest goes tight. She’s too old to feel such violent butterflies racing up her throat. 

“He’s fine,” Nancy tells her simply. “Probably fuming over the pre-nup I made him sign right about now.” 

It’s been a number of years since Robin was a babbling teenager with a crush on the girl who stood next to her in marching band. It’s been a number of years since she sat in the front seat of Steve’s BMW and lamented wanting to kiss a girl without being marked a pariah. 

She thinks maybe that kid in her head never died, though. Not at twenty or thirty and not now at forty either, because something kicks to life in her gut with the realization that—

“You’re getting a divorce?”

Breathy and too hopeful for the topic at hand, Robin clears her throat, looks down at her glass and the drip of condensation around the curve of it. 

“Sorry, I just—”

“I’m getting a divorce.”

“Okay,” Robin nods, says it again okay, okay, “I’m just, um, I’m censoring myself, sorry, give me a minute.” 

And Nancy Wheeler laughs. 

So much lightness to it, something so unbearably carefree, that Robin can’t help but look at her with all the depth of feeling she knows is terribly readable on her face. 

Nancy laughs, leans forward in her chair to rest and elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. No ring. No ring. No ring. 

“Do you remember what you said to me? When you were,” a breath, “when I…”

“When you were kicking me out of your house after we fucked?” Robin gets blunt when she’s nervous, but there’s humor to it years later that there couldn’t have been in the months she spent crying on Steve and Eddie’s couch about it back then. 

Nancy presses her lips together as though forcing down something tremulous, as though recentering herself. 

“You looked me right in the face and you told me,” she straightens her shoulders, “Nancy Wheeler, when are you going to stop living your life like survival was a punishment?” 

Robin does remember that, but wouldn’t have had Nancy not brought it up. She’s spent a lot of energy on not thinking about that morning, about all the ways she’d fucked up any chance she had at having Nancy in any real capacity, even if she couldn’t have her.

Now, though, all of the sparking energy jumping off her skin sings in response to that day, to that fight, to everything they’ve been through since. All of her energy jolts in the space between them, lightning striking like second chances. 

Robin breathes deep into her gut and lets it out slowly as her eyes rove across Nancy’s face. All that calm, all that certainty of having made a plan and watching it play out in front of her by way of Robin herself. 

“Nancy Wheeler,” she breathes, “did you get a divorce for my birthday?” 

Nancy beams, slow and languid, and leans in until they’re almost nose to nose. Wine on her breath and life in her eyes, Nancy gets close. 

“No, that I got for me,” she says, hand coming up to cradle Robin’s jaw and causing a kick-beat in her chest, “but I’m all yours, honey.” 

It’s Robin’s bed they’ll fall into at the end of the night this time, giggling and happy. 

It’s Robin’s kitchen where they’ll have coffee and breakfast when the morning rolls around again. 

No tears, no slamming doors. 

“I need you to— Nance,” Robin’s eyes well up, bridge of her nose nudging against Nancy’s as she asks I need you to prove it’s real. 

Nancy takes her face in both hands and consumes her with a devouring kiss. 

It tastes a lot like self-forgiveness on everyone’s part. 

[piratekane]

and now, the continuation of Hell's Kitchen forever roommates

“What if they don’t like me?”

Beatrice frowns and pauses for a moment on the sidewalk. Ava goes two steps past her before she stops and looks back, her own frown on her face. 

Ava fills her confused silence. “Oh, god. They’re not going to like me.”

Beatrice sees a large group of students walking towards them and grabs for Ava instinctively, pulling her out of their orbit. It puts them on the road and into a small snowbank, but Beatrice can worry about the snow seeping in through the mesh of her sneakers another time, when Ava’s forehead isn’t pinched together in worry.

“Why wouldn’t they like you?” 

She’s curious, because she’s not sure she’s met anyone who doesn’t like Ava. Granted, she’s known Ava for 3 weeks tomorrow - she’s hardly counting the days, she just had a substantial paper due that day and she had been treating herself to a macchiato with a double shot, just because, when Ava crash landed at her table - but in that time, she’s seen Ava meet at least two dozen people and every single one of them walked away with a smile on their face.

But the confident Ava she’s known over the last 3 weeks is not the girl in front of her, nervously bouncing onto the tips of her toes with an almost frenetic energy that Beatrice could reach out and wrap her hand around. She wonders what would happen if she did, if she reached out and put a hand on Ava’s shoulder. Her hands, now pushed deep into her pockets, flex at the idea. 

They’re just… not those kinds of friends. Beatrice is not that kind of friend with anyone, really. Maybe Lilith, in their own way, after years growing up at the same political parties forcing each other into the other’s orbit. And Camila is tactile, but seems to understand that Beatrice needs her space, and she reserves hugs for extra special occasions, still not quantifiable to Beatrice on any level.

Ava squirms in front of her and Beatrice’s hand clenches into a fist so tightly that she can feel the pinch of her fingernails in the soft skin of her palm. The big clock tower in the center of the quad chimes once, twice, twelve times. Noon exactly.

“Well, for example, I’m making us late.” Ava points into the sky, presumably towards the clock tower. “And I forgot my hat. You know how much better I look in my hat.”

She doesn’t, because she’s never seen Ava in a hat before. But she understands the anxiety of meeting new people. So she smiles calmly and clenches and she takes a step closer to Ava. “We reviewed this, didn’t we?”

Ava’s head bobs up and down, face open. Beatrice likes this, that she can tell Ava is listening to her and taking in what she’s saying. “Yes.” Ava nods again. “We went over everyone already. You…” Ava’s mouth lifts in just one corner. “You were very thorough.”

She swallows a little tightly. “You wanted to be prepared.”

“I did. I do!” Ava sways forwards, hands outstretched as if she’s going to reach out and grab Beatrice, shake her into understanding that she means it. “I’m just… I’m nervous. I don’t meet new people all the time.”

Beatrice can’t stop the snort of surprise. It’s inelegant and loud and a trickle of embarrassment runs cold down her spine. She schools her face and lifts her chin into the air just a little. “Ava, I’ve seen you meet at least 10 new people this week alone.”

Ava opens her mouth and snaps it closed again. “Okay,” she finally says, stilling for a moment. “But those people didn’t matter. These people do.”

Yes, they do. They matter to Beatrice more than nearly anything else in her life. Her friends have become her family over the last few years. They’ve seen her at her worst, celebrated her best moments. Lilith is the one she calls on the days when her parents’ letters find their way into her mailbox. Camila is her self-appointed study buddy, keeping her from setting up camp in the library. Mary and Shannon keep her company on the nights when Beatrice feels like she just needs some quiet but doesn’t want to be alone.

She wasn’t aware she had made Ava feel the same way.

“They’re going to like you.” She says confidently, like she already knows.

It’s been 3 weeks and she already knows she likes Ava. Enough to share her favorite table in the student center. Enough to let her strict study time slip away without noticing. Enough to take Ava’s quiet admission of not knowing a lot of people and immediately telling this strange girl who appeared seemingly out of nowhere that she could meet her friends, if she wanted to.

Ava exhales loudly. “You’ll still like me, even if they don’t, right?” That nervous energy is back. Beatrice gets as far as letting her hand drop from her pocket, but it stays firmly against her side. “It won’t change your mind?”

She can’t possibly know that. Her friends are good judges of character. They immediately saw that Lucia was going to be a problem, even though Beatrice hadn’t thought so. And they were right. If something was wrong with Ava, they’d tell her. 

The problem is that, even if they did find something wrong with her, she’s not sure she’d want to know.

So she says, “I’ll still like you,” with her full chest and it seems to soothe some of Ava’s nerves. She settles a little, body coming to a resting state and her shoulders rolling back. She smiles and it seems strong, steady. The crowd passes them on the sidewalk and Beatrice steps back onto it, waiting for Ava to slide in alongside her. Their shoulders bump, their elbows brush.

“I’m going to knock this out of the park,” Ava says, a sudden gust of confidence in her words. “You know that?”

Beatrice doesn’t know, but she believes her. The cold winter air bites at her cheeks and she ducks her head against a slight breeze but Ava turns her face into it, eyes closed slightly and a small smile on her face. Beatrice watches her for a moment. She’s so… free. It’s one of the first things Beatrice noticed about her - how unburdened she seemed to be.

They’re slipping into the student center before she knows it and she soaks in the warmth, unbuttoning her thick winter coat. Ava is back to bouncing again, each step pushing her up into the air a little bit. Beatrice heads towards the small section of tables near the entrance to the science building where she knows her friends are waiting for her.

They’re not those kinds of friends, but Ava reaches out and grabs her arm, squeezing tightly. “This is going to be great.” Beatrice knows she’s saying it more for her own benefit than Beatrice’s so she smiles and nods in agreement, arm burning through the thick wool of her coat where Ava’s hand is wrapped around it.

Ava doesn’t let go and walks at an odd angle, half-dragging Beatrice beside her.

Mary spots them first. Beatrice prides herself on knowing her friends and she can tell Mary is surprised. At Ava or the fact that she’s pulling Beatrice behind her like the wake of a speedboat, she’s not sure. But Beatrice gives nothing away, not challenging the look on Mary’s face as it goes from surprise to curiosity. Mary smacks Shannon in the shoulder lightly, nodding towards their strange approach. Lilith looks up from her phone, eyes narrowing in on Ava and Beatrice sends up a silent prayer that Lilith’s bark is worse than her bite today. Camila turns, face brightening.

“Beatrice!”

Beatrice smiles fondly and she feels Ava looking at her, mirroring her. Ava drags her the last few feet and comes to a stop just outside of the small circle the others have created.

“Hi!” She grins, eyes moving from person to person. “I’m Ava.”

Camila and Shannon smile. Mary nods again, a silent greeting. Lilith stands, spine perfectly straight, and stares down at Ava. Ava, to her credit and Beatrice’s amusement, just smiles a little wider.

“You’re Lilith,” she guesses.

Lilith’s eyes cut to Beatrice. “What gave that away?”

“Beatrice won’t shut up about your smile.”

Mary snorts, not bothering to cover the sound. Camila hides her smile. Lilith continues to look Ava over with narrowed eyes before her chin tips almost imperceptibly - a silent fine, she can stay. Beatrice feels a rush of relief settle in her stomach that surprises her. She didn’t know she cared so much about Lilith’s opinion.

“I’m Camila.” Camila sticks her hand out and Ava finally lets go of Beatrice’s arm, looking curiously at it before shaking it. “Beatrice won’t stop talking about you.”

“That’s not true,” she says at the same time as Ava turns to her and says, “I knew it.”

Beatrice shakes her head. “You knew nothing. Maybe I’m not saying anything nice.”

Ava pushes her hand into her pocket and rocks to one side, shoulder knocking into Beatrice. “Oh, come on. I’m pretty great. You can admit that. You don’t have to show off for your friends.”

“Yeah, Beatrice,” Mary drawls. “Don’t show off for us.”

“Mary,” Ava says. Her eyes are bright. “Beatrice says a lot about you.”

“Oh, so she’s saying things about us.” Mary crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised in challenge. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s saying-” Ava’s eyes cut to her and then she slams her mouth shut, miming pulling a zipper across her lips. Her shoulder bumps Beatrice’s again as she shakes with a silent, unexplained laugh.

A curious feeling comes over Beatrice. It almost feels like fondness. Which can’t be true, of course. Because she’s known Ava for 3 weeks tomorrow and that’s certainly not enough time to be… enamored by someone. She’s known her barista longer than that and has nothing but passing gratitude for her and the extra shot she sometimes surprises Beatrice with. She’s known her advisor since freshman year and she’s only ever felt appreciation for him. 

Fondness is something reserved for her friends, not someone so new like Ava.

“Nothing but nice things,” she finally says.

“Well, we’ve heard nothing but the same about you,” Camila fills in. She loops her arm through Ava’s, pulling her closer to the couch she’d abandoned a moment ago. Ava looks back at Beatrice over her shoulder before sitting down next to Camila. “So, tell me about yourself. Beatrice says you’re a freshman.”

Mary sidles up next to her, her shoulder replacing the feeling of Ava’s. “She seems… excitable. Is she.. Is she wiggling?”

Beatrice looks. Yes, Ava is moving animatedly, hands moving in wild circles as she tells Camila and Shannon something and Lilith looks on with mild disapproval. She smiles. She knew Camila would immediately pull Ava into a conversation where she could… Well, Beatrice can admit to herself that Ava is charming. And that charm seems to extend to everyone, Beatrice included.

“Beatrice nearly caught bedbugs from her freshman year roommate,” Shannon is telling her now. “What was her name again? Crimson?”

Ava’s nose wrinkles. “That’s a name?” She shrugs it off. “My roommate isn’t bad. Chanel is definitely cooler than me. She goes to all the campus parties. But she’s moving out at the end of the semester and I’m going to get stuck with someone new.” She pouts, bottom lip pushed out dramatically. “I don’t want to live there anymore.”

“Beatrice has a spare room opening up. Don’t you, Beatrice?” Camila looks at her over Ava’s head and Beatrice does an admirable job of keeping her face neutral. Ava is still, effectively, a stranger. And Beatrice knows well enough that you don’t invite a stranger to move in with you. Though, she supposes that freshmen do, in fact, move in with strangers. Still. Beatrice won’t do it. Camila is still smiling. “You guys should talk about it.”

Mary must feel the way she’s suddenly pulled rigid. Because that shoulder presses warmly against her and Mary sucks her teeth for a second before she leans forward and exhales. Beatrice braces herself. Mary looks like a father ready to interrogate the boy picking up her daughter for the night. Beatrice’s forehead wrinkles at the thought as it comes on suddenly. What a strange thing to think. 

“So, Ava. Any extracurriculars? What do you do on the weekends? Any criminal history we need to know about?”

Ava, to her credit, places her hands on her knees and straightens up higher than Beatrice has seen her so far - 3 weeks tomorrow, she thinks. Not a lifetime - as she thinks of her answers. “No criminal history, yet. Though Chanel has informed me that I’ve committed many crimes against fashion. I don’t think she appreciates my minion pajamas, though. She should. They’re the most comfortable thing besides not wearing pants.” She purses her lips. “As for extracurriculars… none yet. Though, there’s a rock climbing place nearby that the intramural team goes to sometimes! One of the guys in my math class told me about it.”

Camila immediately pouts. “I want to go to the rock climbing place.”

“We should!” Ava looks around, excitement effusing from her. “We could do that. I think they do group discounts.”

“Someone won’t do it with us,” Camila continues, pointedly not looking at her.

Ava looks at each of their faces before her eyes settle on Beatrice. “You don’t want to go rock climbing? Why not?”

Beatrice has a myriad of reasons: the chalk is is supposedly notoriously difficult to get out of clothes, the place seems to be crowded with college students and little kids at birthday parties, the workers there are college students and she wouldn’t trust them to hold open a door let alone keep her suspended above the ground. And most importantly, a thought she keeps to herself: she’s not sure she’ll be good at it.

Then Ava does something Beatrice knows is going to be ruinous. She turns her whole body towards Beatrice, that same open look on her face, head tipped to one side as a slight smile starts to build in the corner of her mouth. “I think you should try it. And I think you should try it with me.”

All of the reasons, carefully crafted into an argument she used with Mary and Camila and Shannon and Lilith, evaporate. They disappear into Ava’s hopeful smile. Every part of her that rebelled against the idea, that kept her refusal steadfast, is gone in the instant that Ava nods encouragingly.

“Okay,” she hears herself say. 

Though, it can’t actually be her, Because she said no to this the last three times she was asked about it. But it is her. Camila lets out a small excited cheer, Shannon smiles, Lilith’s face flickers in approval, Mary stares at her openly, and Ava beams.

“Rock climbing!” Ava looks around excitedly. “You guys must not have tried hard to change her mind very hard.” They’re not those kinds of friends but Ava reaches over and grabs Beatrice’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “That was so easy,” she laughs.

Mary is still staring at her. She feels it against the side of her face and she refuses to turn towards her. She lifts her chin into the air slightly, pointedly, and does a good job pretending all of her attention is on Ava asking Camila about the right kind of shoes and whether or not she'll be able to climb without a harness. They’re tight, she’s saying.

Mary bumps into her again and she finally has to look. “That was so easy.” She mimics Ava quietly enough that no one hears them. “Tell me, Beatrice. Did we not try hard enough?” There’s a smirk growing on her face, a telltale sign that Mary knows the answer to her own question.

So Beatrice doesn’t bother offering a different one.

“I like her,” Mary says after another minute of stretched out silence. “I think she’s going to be good for you.”

Beatrice frowns. “Good for me?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I think she’s going to be a terrible influence.”

Mary sneaks a hand to her elbow. “I think maybe you need that every once in a while. Makes you a little more human.” She squeezes Beatrice’s arm, taking the sting out of the words. “Better stop her before Camila ropes her into something though. Because the two of them seem dangerous together.” Mary slips away, back to Shannon’s side.

Beatrice watches Ava, still animated, going on too quickly for Beatrice to tune into and keep up with. Even Lilith looks less disgruntled than usual, a rare flicker of a smile on her face so briefly that Beatrice could have possibly imagined it. She thinks of Ava’s question, so foolishly asked. What if they don’t like me?

Another thought worms its way inside her brain. What if they like her too much? 

What if I like her too much?

But Ava looks back at her and smiles and Beatrice just simply tucks that thought away for later. Apparently, she’s going rock climbing.

[seohwang]

XXXX.

First kisses with Ateez - Yunho ver.

Request: “Omg can you do yunho imagine on first kiss with him” + (partially) “Heyyy, can I request a first kiss with ateez headcanon? 💕”

Genre: fluff

Word count: 885

Warnings: none, I think? Just general romance, shyness and awkwardness I guess lol

A/N: So, as I’ve mentioned before, this was a part of a requested OT8 reaction from a few months back. However, I still don’t have Yeosang, San, and Mingi (the rest is done and ready to be posted), so I was contemplating whether to wait to release this as a full set, or if I should just split it into multiple parts. After I got this request for Yunho, though, I ultimately decided to split the reactions, hope that’s okay.

A/N 2: That being said, requests are still open until March 12th, so if anyone wants to see the other 4 scenarios (or request something of their own), feel free to ask for them! If not, I’ll just wait until I’m done with the remaining 3 members and post it all at once at some point in the future. Either way, I hope you enjoy this Yunho one and thank you for the request! ♥

Yunho

Yunho is definitely the type to keep things as comfortable and spontaneous as possible

Probably the one who planned it the least out of all the members, honestly

Now, don’t get him wrong - he has thought about it (a lot)

But he’s never really seen the point of the whole “making it a big deal because it’s a first” thing

Just go for it when the time feels right, no?

Or that’s how he sees it, at least

Which is definitely helpful when it comes to dealing with all of the nervousness and awkwardness at the beginning of your relationship

But it also makes him really unpredictable sometimes

Which isn’t bad in itself, obviously

But it’s just left you confused a bit too many times now

During the past few weeks, every single date, you’d think it was finally going to happen

The conversation would die down for a moment and a comfortable silence would surround the two of you as you stole shy, bashful glances at each other

Maybe you’d sit down for a moment, or Yunho would just suddenly stop what he was doing and look at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips

And each time you’d think to yourself that this was it, you could almost feel yourself leaning in and closing your eyes...

Only for him to pull back again just as fast, resuming whatever he was doing before and telling you about this cool thing that had happened to him the other day

Leaving you confused, blushing, and just a tad disappointed

Okay, a bit more than just a tad, if you were being honest

But, of course, you just moved on, not saying anything in fear that Yunho just wasn’t ready yet and you were reading his hints incorrectly

Which brings you to now, as you once again find yourself in an all-too-familiar scenario

It’s just you and Yunho again, this time in a secluded area of a park, sitting on one of the benches near a small lake

The weather was just right today, not too hot but still warm enough for the two of you to buy some ice cream during your walk

After a while, Yunho suggested you two sit down for a bit, letting yourselves relax by the lake as you watched the scenery before you

Until, suddenly, the reeds nearby started to move and you noticed a small line of yellow ducklings make their way onto the water, following right behind their mother into the middle of the lake

“Yunho, look!” You exclaimed excitedly as you pointed at the tiny ducks coming into view

Yunho looked up from his ice cream, leaning closer to you for a better angle

You watched as a big smile spread across his lips, watching the ducks with just as much excitement as you

“They’re so cute, aren’t they?” You asked, subconsciously mirroring his bright smile

He nodded happily, turning back to you with an adorable twinkle in his eyes

Except that, alongside the obvious adoration, you also saw a hint of...mischief?

“Hm, yeah, they really are,” he said thoughtfully, looking into the distance as if he was genuinely pondering over your words

“But-”

Uh oh.

In that millisecond, you realized what was coming

You knew exactly what he was going to say, the playful look on his face already told you everything

Oh no, no, nononono-

“You know who’s even cuter?”

Jesus...

“...Who is it, Yunho?” You asked back with a sigh, watching Yunho laugh at your probably very unamused-looking expression

He bit his lip, trying to contain his giggles as he looked at you again, but this time with a more serious expression

And it was just like all the other times all over again

The comfortable, quiet atmosphere settling between just the two of you,

And, most of all,

The soft, loving look of pure adoration in Yunho’s eyes as they met yours, and suddenly, you realized just how close the two of you were, Yunho practically leaning over you just to watch you even closer

You didn’t want to give yourself any false hope, you really didn’t

And yet, you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall to his lips, just hoping, praying, he would finally do it

And he did.

You almost dropped your ice cream cone out of the genuine surprise of finally feeling his lips on yours, completely taken aback

You didn’t hesitate to immediately kiss him back, though

Your free hand reached out to take his, brushing over the back of it with your thumb as you leaned into him

The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, however, before Yunho pulled away (much to your dismay), giving you a cuddly smile as your eyes met again

He couldn’t help but snicker at your flustered expression before finally speaking up again

“Your ice cream’s going to melt,” he said very matter-of-factly, though the deep shade of red rising to his cheeks told you he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he pretended to be

You just stared at him in disbelief, processing his words before letting out a chuckle of your own

“Yeah, and so am I.”

Thank you for reading! And remember, any feedback is always appreciated! ♥

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 5

Life threatening events were not on her bucket list. In fact, MJ was content to mind her business and talk to pub patrons. She was happy to come in, pours some pints, make a cocktail, chat up the patrons and learn their stories, and then roll on home in the early morning hours. That was her routine every single day, she liked it that way. Her life wasn't supposed to be filled with crazy events and super villains. She was just a normal woman working in a small pub.

So why the hell does stuff just keep happening to her?

She’s been exhausted for the past two weeks, and it's not from any freak run ins with her local vigilante. To her surprise it's because of a single patron who started coming to the pub. Usually MJ is okay with the occasional drunkard. They always have at least one every other night.

MJ’s favorites are posted in small polaroid pictures behind the bar top that Andy has taken. The pub keeps a polaroid camera as a little gimmick for busy weekends. Andy will walk around to the tables and snap pictures of friends and couples. It’s just a cute extra thing they like to do, keeps patrons longer. The owner pays for the film and Andy likes talking to people. It’s a win-win. Especially the wall of shame, which has pictures of the unruly drunk bastards they’ve kicked out. It's her favorite photo section secretly, the faces they make when Andy points the flash at them is really entertaining. 

They have a new regular though and he drinks every night until her or Andy cuts him off. That's not uncommon, to have people come in and be cut off after an obscene amount of alcohol. It's not just the fact he's a heavy drinker... there's something unsettling about how he drinks that has starting to stress MJ out.

She can't put her finger on it, but it makes her stomach drop in dread every time she sees him. He drinks more than any patron they’ve seen before, but never gets unruly. He sits quietly, drinking beer after beer. His eyes following her, like a predator looking at their next meal. She hates interacting with him. It's his eyes, they're so... hollow.

The last time she handed him his tab he caressed her hand and she recoiled just as quickly. He gave her a slimy kind of smile that had her gritting her teeth. His eyes burning into her skin, making her itch and want to scream. She hasn’t served him tonight, but she feels him staring at her. She always feels his eyes following her, like a creepy portrait at night.

He genuinely scares her. Has her almost debating if she should just quite. She even tried to swap times with a coworker but he followed. He was there every time she was scheduled without fail. How he knew she was trying to change shifts made her even more unsettled. Making her skin prickle like she was being stabbed by tiny needles. 

She mentioned it to her manager but he just dismissed how she felt. Saying she was over reacting; the guy isn’t disruptive and he hasn’t actually done anything to her. All she could think was, ‘yet, he hadn’t done anything yet’.

She didn't bother trying to change shifts after that. She was ready to just leave the pub all together, but the pay was good. Too good to try and job hunt because of one man that creeped her out. 

She shakes herself out of her spiraling thoughts and tries to keep working. There was no use sitting there stewing on him, it would just terrify her. She wraps up her shift and goes in the back to clock out. Before she walks out though, she goes back to ask Andy a question about a show they were hosting the next night. She needed the contact information and Andy had taken the call. 

When she walks back out, she sees the guy is gone. Her gut is telling her it's wrong, he usually stays all night. Her face pales at the idea of walking out.

“Where did he go?” MJ asks pointing to his empty chair, her tone clipped. 

Andy shrugs nonchalantly, “He just closed out his tab. Why?”

MJ grows quiet and crosses her arms. “This is gonna sounds crazy, but something about him really freaks me out.”

Andy shakes her head. “No, not crazy. I don’t like how he looks at you. It’s fucking gross.” Andy frowns looking at her friend. It validates MJ's feelings and she sighs in mild relief. Someone else noticed. 

MJ leans on the back counter thinking, “Can I stay until you get off? I- I just have a bad feeling.” She asks looking at Andy with pleading eyes.

Andy nods her head, “Absolutely!" She replies reassuringly. "My boyfriends picking me up tonight and we can walk ya home or you can tag along with us. I’d hate for that guy to try and follow ya home.” She mutters bitterly making a disgusted face. 

MJ nods her head. “Thanks, I’m just gonna hang out in the office then. Maybe check the cameras.” She says pointing to the back.

MJ goes into the managers office, he wasn’t working tonight anyway, and she looks through his desktop to check the cameras. Her stomach was churning with uncertainty. 

Sure enough, the guy is creeping around the corner. He’s watching the back door. Suddenly a cold chill runs up her back. She jolts up and makes sure the back doors are locked. She quietly goes back into the office and curls in the chair, her body shaking. She takes a deep, nervous breath and just tries to not think about it.

There is no denying it, he definitely was waiting for her.

She shoves her face into her hands and tries to take some calming deep breathes. Her fingers dig into her hair and she holds it tightly. It doesn’t stop the panic rising in her chest. It burns in the back of her throat like bile and she squeezes her eyes shut.

With unsteady hands she shoots Hobie a text, asking if he could come pick her up. She doesn’t know if she can wait until Andy gets off. She looks back over to the cameras and the man isn't there anymore.

It should calm her down, she should be relieved, but it doesn’t. It's the opposite of reassuring... in fact it puts her on edge and she's more nervous than before.

Suddenly the back door handle starts to jiggle, almost as if someone’s trying to open it. She stares at the handle frozen in fear for what feels like forever. Her heart feels like it’s in her throat. 

Just as soon as the door handle shook, it ends. Leaving her alone in the silence.

She’s trembling and tries to calm herself down. He can’t get in.

He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. She tells herself over and over again.

She locked it, it’s industrial, as long as she's in the back she's safe. She spends the next ten minutes trying to come down from her mini panic attack. Her body feels numb and she's never felt this frighten for her own life. Which feels trivial in the face of the strange super humans running around Old York.

Her phone buzzes, pulling her out. Hobie had texted her back, saying he was on his way. She was going to be fine.

She finally settles her breathing and feels calm enough to wait for Hobie. Her judgement was correct. She hears screaming and glasses shattering. The noise is so foreign she doesn't realize it's real until Andy comes plowing around the corner and barreling into the office. Andy slams the door shut, and turns off the lights. Her face is filled with fear as she turns around to grab MJ. 

“That guy, MJ, he- he came back!" Andy starts to whisper shout. Her voice hitching in anxiety. "He's bonkers! Threw a fit and breaking shit!" she says rushing over her words. "He was screaming for you MJ, Lars is handling it but I bolted." She grabs her hand and tries to drag MJ with her, "We have to go!” She’s whispering at her aggressively.

MJ moves to hold Andy's arms, she looks past her down at the computer's camera and sees Lars handing the man. The two girls take the opportunity to go to the back door and try to escape. They are met with an unbudging door.

“No, no, no, no!” MJ hisses and tries to open the door again, throwing her body weight at the door. She's frantic to get out, just escape.

“What the fuck!” Andy almost shouts. They try again and are meet with nothing. They're trapped. 

They hear glass breaking and it makes them freeze for only a moment before fear grips them. They run into the office, closing the door and locking it.

MJ makes her way over to the computer and sees the guy standing over Lars, holding a broken liquor bottle with a tight grip. She clutches at Andy and looks at her with wide eyes.

“I think he just killed Lars!” She hisses.

“What the fuck!” Andy replies and the two girls watch him through the camera. He’s blocking their only exit.

“We have to hide, that’s all we can do, or distract him…” MJ mutters.

“Where the hell are we gonna hide?!” Andy says in irritation.

MJ looks over to the closet in the office and shoves herself and Andy in it. The closet is filled with anything and everything, it’s honestly a mess. This could be to their advantage though. MJ finds an empty barrel, one used as decoration, and tells Andy to get in. Her friend looks at her like she’s mad.

“I’m not getting in that.” Andy hisses in a whisper.

“It’s the best spot you have and we don’t have a lot of time right now Andy!" MJ shots back quickly in irritation. "If he finds a locked door he’s breaking in. I’m gonna lock the closet but it can only give us so much time.” MJ whispers aggressively.

Andy sighs and gets in the barrel. “If he finds me first I’m killing you, not him.” She mutters.

MJ rolls her eyes but closes the barrel’s lid. She looks at the corner that’s filled with an abundance of random things. She moves some stuff around to hide behind. This is as good as it's going to get. The objects she's hiding behind are also hidden by a curtain. She hopes it'll be enough to save her. She’s shaking, clutching her phone to her chest. She turns it on silent, but texts Hobie quickly. She tells him in as little words as possible she’s hiding in the office and for him to call for help.

She knows the cops won’t come, even after their ‘reform’ they still don’t do much. Much less care about a local pub issue. That’s why they had Lars as their bouncer. Now Lars was maybe dead and it’s not like she could just call up the local vigilante.

She’s screwed unless she can somehow take this guy out herself with Andy. She’s trembling, clutching onto herself to not cry, this is not how she wants to go. Not from some creepy drunk patron. 

She hears the office door get kicked in and she tries to not gasp. He’s more than likely going to find her and not Andy, which she knew that was the risk. She’s holding onto a crowbar with a death grip. She’s just waiting for him to get in the closet. If he finds her she'll swing, fight, scream and claw her way out.

She wants to shut her eyes like a little kid and pretend this isn’t happening, but she can’t. Her hearts pounding as she hears the loud bangs on the closet door. With every hit it makes her jump. Then she hears it crash to the floor followed by heavy footsteps.

She’s trying to keep it together but tears fall down her face. She’s only human and fear is gripping at her heart.

She hears a loud grunt and a collapsing. She doesn’t dare look, but she hears something dragging against the floor.

“I don’t think ladies like stalkers much.” She hears, a new voice says mockingly.

She sits up quickly as she hears the familiar voice. She moves to stand up and quietly goes to look. She sees a distinctly spider silhouette through the broken down doorway.

His figure disappears but she can still hear him. He’s talking to the drunkard so she uses this opportunity to grab Andy. She rushes over to the barrel that Andy’s in and slides the lid off. She whispers to her, “Spider-Man’s here!”

“What?! How?” Andy says in surprise, they can hear the guy getting slammed into something, making them both jump. The noises they hear consist of loud banging and something being broken.

“Hell, if I know!” MJ hisses and makes her way over to the fallen doorway.

She peers around the corner, still trying to hide herself, and sees that Spider-Man has the guy pinned down. Arms tied behind his back and his face had been slammed into the desk. Specifically, the keyboard. The pieces are scattered and broken on the floor, a small pool of blood is underneath the man's head. 

She takes a shaky breath, one entirely too quiet, it’s enough to notify Spider-Man of her presence, his head shooting up to look at her. She sees his body relax, if just a fraction, upon seeing her.

“Mariana,” he whispers her name, so soft she almost misses it. “Always in trouble…” He says much louder, scoffing and shaking his head. She's frozen in place just watching him with large eyes.

He leans down next to the man's ear, “You’re lucky I got better things to do than rip you apart…” he hisses out.

He webs the guys arms together behind his back and throws him against the wall and webbing him there. He’s covered from the neck down to his feet, he is definitely not moving anytime soon.

Andy comes over next to her and grips MJ’s arm, letting out her own shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Lars!” Andy says in realization and bolts back to the front of the pub to assess their security guard.

MJ can’t move, her eyes are glued to Spider-Man, she feels like she’s going to pass out from the swell of relief. He turns back and silently comes over gently grabbing her shoulders to look at her.

“C’mon let’s get you outta here.” He says, voice a little gruff as he wraps an arm around her. She leans her weight into him as a support almost instinctively. She’s still trembling slightly from the fear that gripped her heart.

They walk through the front and MJ sees Andy helping Lars sit up. He was okay, just a little scratched up. MJ smiles, glad to know her bouncer was safe and not dead.

“We’re gonna call someone and I’m staying with Lars. MJ you should go.” Andy says looking over at the two.

Before she can open her mouth and protest staying with them the vigilante speaks up, “I’ll get her home.” 

Before MJ can even find her voice to respond the two are outside and he’s pulled her against him like before and starts swinging them across the city.

She’s confused and nauseous her grip tight as he swings them.

“You okay?” He asks her.

“Is this really the best time to ask me?” She mutters, groaning at the quick movements and feeling the air hit her face. Instead of it being refreshing, it stings instead.

“You gotta talk to me, it doesn’t have to be about that.” He says, voice a little rough. His grip on her tightening a fraction.

“Why?” She asks. She leans back enough to try and look at his face. Even covered in a mask, she’s trying to find something to help her read his expression.

“I just need a distraction or I’m gonna go back and rip him in half like the scum he is.” He mutters bitterly.

She narrows her eyes and whatever jumbled thoughts were swimming in her brain have finally clicked together, like pieces of a puzzle.

“Fine…but I can’t talk about what just happened.” she replies.

He grunts in acknowledgement, “Anything, we can talk about anything.” He keeps swinging, he doesn’t even need directions to get to her flat. He’s taking the right turns, as if he's done it a million times before.

“When were you gonna tell me you’re Spider-Man?” she accuses without hesitation. 

He misses his next web, causing them to fall a bit before he catches them again. His masks eyes widen as he looks at her.

Her brows are furrowed and she’s looking at him expectantly.

“What ya talkin’ about? Course I’m Spider-Man.” He tries to play off with a fake laugh.

Her face doesn’t change she raises a brow in irritation, “Hobie.” Her voice is shaking a bit, “When were you going to tell me?” She says again.

He groans and stops swinging them, he lands them on a random roof and he sets her down. His hands cover his masked face as he shakes his head. Pacing back and forth. He turns to look at her, pauses, and then rolls his head back again.

He pulls his mask off and gives her a look like he’s mildly impressed. “What gave it away?” He asks.

She takes a deep breath, “You, you were the only one I had texted…and well, you called me Mariana. Pretty sure I never told Spider-Man my name.” she whispers.

He nods and walks closer to her, he brushes his hand along her cheek, “You’re okay right? He didn’t find you?” he asks. His eyes looking over her, making his own assessment.

She nods, “No you got there just in time.” She whispers, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She presses the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to stop herself from crying.

 She’s safe. She knows she’s safe. Hobie came like he said he would.

She runs her hands down her face and looks up at him, his body has relaxed and he pulls her to him. Tightly hugging her. She easily wraps her own arms around him, grounding herself.

“You’re too much trouble…” He murmurs into her hair.

She chuckles in response and presses her forehead to his shoulder, “Maybe it’s you who’s trouble.” She replies.

He gives a dry laugh, “Yeah, probably.”

The two hold onto each other tightly, breathing together, trying to match their hearts to the same gentle rhythm. 

[zetomato]

QSMP The fated cursed team?

Alright, so it’s my time on the microphone I guess.

Without going deep into the reason why (since it’s not the focus), I have a love/hate relationship with Purgatory. It’s an incredible feat for the Admins with all the details in it as well as the events planning, we get to see new sides of the characters, but I hate competition games (when the win is crucial) and how CCs from every team had their “I genuinely am having a very frustrating and not nice time” for various reasons.

This in mind, I’ve been following the “WHO IS CURSED?” question from the start like almost everyone… But with a different viewpoint. See, I’m someone who does a lot of LARPs and Tabletop RPGs, I’ve been animator and dungeon master (I DM once each week right now) so I know well the “Let’s make a plan and see how the players work inside of it” I didn’t really plan on yeeting a big speech on Tumblr, but I’ve seen a lot of people take hypotheses as facts and got surprised. So let me break things up a little.

The base of a goal.

When you’re making an event/a game/a RPG with a “Someone is cursed”, there are some things you cannot do. Now, the events were planned and, therefore, they planned on the number of teams to go from 3 to 2 from the start. This cannot sustain a “One team is cursed” from the start. Why? Because you have no clue who will win and who will lose. Before the egg event, one could have said “Soulfire will lose because they have put little time on their base compared to the other teams.” You could have said “Bolas will lose because they aren’t the best PVPer and have less gear.” You could have said “Green Gay Ninjas will lose because Red and Blue will ally against them.” Heck, you could have said “No one will lose, they’re going to try to tie.” (All of those before the event even started) Anything could have happened. I, for one, did not expect for Red to win at the beginning of the day. And yet they did.

Ok, let’s back up now.

If a team was chosen as cursed from the start, the admins had at least three ways of making sure the event would last past the egg event.

Make the cursed team with strong-ass players so they had no chance to lose. (Uncertain technique, would be way more visible than what we had/have)

Make the cursed team with every single nerf you can so they’re so obviously cursed that the other teams make sure they stay alive. (A very sad idea, everyone would just already know who needed to win or maybe kill them thinking it was a red herring, again, no one truly fit that 100%)

One person is cursed and they aren’t “cursing” their team until it’s a 1v1 (and not a 1v1v1) (That’s the one that would work the most if the cursed team had been chosen from the start)

Herding cats

Now, as a DM, I’ve herded cats for years now, and here’s what I learned. If you want a precise outcome to your game, you will have to use the three doors trick. Basically, you put your players in front of a choice of doors and whichever door they choose will lead to the room you wanted them to see next. It makes no sense to shoot yourself in the foot and leave the direction of your story entirely to your players if you know it needs to end in X number of games with a specific scene. This doesn’t mean there couldn’t be a cursed team right now, but with all they set up (the nuke, the ‘If they die everyone dies’, etc.) my DM brain is telling me that the cursed team will be chosen narratively at the end while giving meat to the bones of hints we got.

Alright, for the “Cursed team hints” now.

So, one of the most looked at things for the hints were the eggs messages. Let’s break those down quickly. I do not believe one can say “MESSAGES ARE CLUE” without taking ALL OF THEM as a clue.

“No matter what… Protect Tallulah.” Now, this message, like all others, can be read multiple ways. The first one could be about the only Tallulah we actually saw on the island (well, part of her likeness at least), the statue. This one was Red’s statue. So one could say that Red need to win, aka, they are the cursed team. But, you can also read it as “Tallulah will show up later on and she needs to be protected first and foremost.”*

“Nothing is off the table, run over whoever you need to win.” Well, this one, yes, also has more than one possible meaning. The first and most obvious would be “BBH and his team needs to win at all cost.” would fit, would make sense. But it could also be read as “The final choice will be hard, you need to make sure all the residents need to win.” All is a question of point of view. None of these ways to read it are wrong, which, I think, is the point.*

“Dads you won't believe it, it isn't fireflies on the sky run and don't stop” (translated message) This is the most hazy of them all. What vibe this one gives me is - especially since there are some of Richas’ parents in every team - about a future moment. Maybe a final event on the 18th. Another way to read it could be a warning about mobs. It seems less likely, but some mobs in Purgatory turn invisible after someone hits them, leaving only two white dots as eyes. This one is a stretch but my back needs it.*

One message (chayanne) reads more as a Red Team is Cursed. One message (Dapper) reads more as Blue Team is Cursed. * But you know how else you can read any of these three egg messages? Very cool one liners to bring up the hype about an upcoming event. (but they’re cooler as clues)

The wheel

The wheel is very much uncertain for me, mostly because I don’t think Tubbo was even meant to roll it. At least, definitely not when he did. He glitched through barrier blocks to reach it and then lava was dropped in a “Player get the heck out goddamnit you know you weren’t supposed to be there” way. (As a DM, I know that vibe. No, bard, you cannot SEDUCE MY GODDAMN DRAGON) Now, was he supposed to later? Maybe, I don’t know, but basing a lot of things on that, especially while ignoring that Slime (Red) and Roier (Green) were also there and could have been the ones rolling it doesn’t seem like a fair assessment.

The tickets.

So there’s another thing that is wild to me. They used the tickets to join purgatory, and only Red had the fancy ones. I would have said “Oh well it’s part of the bit to have slime on Charlie’s or feathers on Phil’s”, but the sparkles on Vegetta and the cat on Wil’s seem to pass way more of a message. Now, the one person who wasn’t in Red with a fancy ticket isn’t even in Purgatory Aka Quackity. ElQuackity wasn’t on the train with the rest, he appeared there, but also, it’s canon that he definitely isn’t Quackity and wants the eggs dead. I must say, the tickets seem like the most palpable clue we have linked to Purgatory but I do not know if it means they are or aren’t the cursed team. That could go either way.

Of course I was going to mention Tubbo so here it is.

In Escape Rooms, Tubbo would be what we call a wild card. It’s someone who grabs the information and tries to make all the possible links between everything. Those people are very useful when others are stuck trying to follow narrow logic or trying to give more difficulty to a riddle than what it needs. It’s an extremely important job since they can make the intrigue suddenly make sense. The thing, though, is that 80% of what a wild card says is in the array of “I’ve connected the dots” “You didn’t connect shit” “I connected them”. They will make sense of things that aren’t supported enough to be certain. Purgatory doesn’t help with both team’s heavy biases towards themselves, which they both have. Tubbo said a lot of stuff and made them make sense one way. But he also ignored the others (understandably, again, everyone biased) and ignored parts of clues he had access to. The man cooked, but it doesn’t mean that the meal is consumable yet.

Then, what?

Bottom line, no one gave us any clue of what could be a sign of a cursed team. We do not know what to even look for. What does a cursed team look like? What hint is for the curse and what is for something else? Everyone, watchers and CCs, are grasping at things, hoping it’s the right one. In my humble opinion, I think that there are hints, but they are versatile enough that the eye guy could choose any team and announce it as the cursed one at the end, bringing up some hints in link to that team and backing them up with new Lore so it becomes “obvious”. This would be my DM way at least. It would give the hazy hints meaning on any possible team when the time is right. Make the people believe hints were there for the final answer all along and not notice that there were just as many hints going the other way.

TL:DR; There is no clear definition yet about what is a cursed team other than what happens if they die. Many hints we have are uncertain and fit more than one team. The DnD Dungeon Master way that the admins seem to follow so everyone has fun might only choose a cursed team upon the last day so Lore can happen in the most narrative way possible. It would avoid any randomness players bring.

[saltygilmores]

DANCE MARATHON EPISODE-PART 3

So I had seen this Charity Dance Marathon gimmick on an episode of the Golden Girls (an episode which aired in 1987) and I feel as if I’ve seen it on other shows as well. (fun fact I just learned this week: Gilmore Girls and Golden Girls both shared at least one writer). Were these ever real things or is this just a gimmick made up for sitcoms? Are there real people out there shaking their moneymakers til they drop? Who can actually dance for 24 hours with only minimal breaks? It seems incredibly uncomfortable. See also: Charity bachelor auctions (Seen this gimmick on The Golden Girls again, and The Simpsons). Stars Hollow could never auction off a date with a hunky bachelor because Miss Patty keeps all the eligible single men and teenage boys chained up in her basement. I may have to do some research on these phenomenons.

I already can't stop saying Shug and Shuggy and Shugar at random intervals after seeing Land of Bad yesterday, and Babette is not helping, lol. Maybe on a different timeline, she was Shug's Momma (actually...maybe I shouldn't wish that for dear Babette).

I just want to point out the sign in the background reading: "All students riding a school bus home after school must wait in the gym." Who is so far away they're taking a bus to school in Stars Hollow? Stars Hollow is like four feet long. Maybe there are so few teenagers in The Hollow they have to consolidate with other districts and bus in students from other towns, like seat fillers. Those poor kids, deprived of an education like that.

Everything reminds me of Captain John "Sugar/Shug" Sweet. Sookie informs Lorelai that under duress, she reluctantly agreed to her husband's "four in four" plan (four kids in four years, what is she, a dog?) and now she can't back out or have a conversation with him about it so she has no choice but to lay down and accept his sperm, lest she cause any conflict in their newlywed marriage where things are still bright and shiny and they enjoy sniffing each other in the morning, or something like that.

Tell that to Liz Danes.

That's rich and creamy coming from Ms. "I Almost Married Max Medina Without Discussing Where We Were Going to Live".

This is a janky medical operation we've got going on here. Medical examinations being performed next to open containers of food, no gloves being worn by medical personel or kitchen staff, and massage therapists walking around wearing tshirts saying "Masseuse" on them, because it's important to establish who you're getting massaged by. If it doesn't say Masseuse on the shirt, you might end up getting a rubdown from an unsanctioned random weirdo.

Alexis's is sneering like, "I'm here working 14 hours day in the Los Angeles heat in a heavy coat with a bunch of DORKS when I could be home boinking MY NEW BOYFRIEND MILIO VENTIMIGLIA and touching his BIG WANG! But maybe we can sneak in a quickie behind craft services later"

Mrs Kim is the real star of this episode.

Oh hey Mrs. Stanley Appleman.

Kinky.

If you keep drinking all that coffee, you're going to turn into a Coffee. Or probably have back to back heart attacks.

The clock is ticking to Shane's imminent demise. Hopefully her collapse from excessive blood loss won't get in the way of the other dancers, because Jess is going to butcher her behind the school without any witnesses. He is home sharpening his axe. #MurderOnTheDanceFloor #BetterNotKillTheGroove How the hell did they rustle up 156 couples/ 312 people for this thang anyway?

I love Luke in this episode :)

Pretty rich and creamy coming from you, Miss No Car, No Job, No Pet, One Friend, Butthead Boyfriend, Goes Home From College Every Weekend to Visit Mommy. Kirk has a thousand careers, he will eventually have a pet and a girlfriend, and what reason would you need a car in The Hollow? Except to escape it. Kirk easily has the most interesting life in The Hollow, save for Miss Patty, maybe (who has the most interesting past). He seems pretty content with his life. I love that there's a "security" guard back there. I guess he was sleeping on the job when Shane's cries of agony rang out into the cold Connecticut sky.

Says Miss Lonely Pathetic Existence Also Attending The Same Marathon With Lonely Pathetic Mother And Every Other Lonely Pathetic citizen of the entire town.

YAYYYYY.

If Lane doesn't stop causing so much friction in Hep Alien, she might be replaced with this guy. I'm sure he will get paid equally as much drumming for a group of teenagers as he's currently getting paid to drum for a small town twerk-till-you-drop charity event.

Remember when swing music had a brief resurgence in the late 90s? Those were the days, oh some days they were. But since time stands still in The Hollow, they're actually still on the 1930's wave. This is too much fun and so cute and whimsical and joyous and what a wonderful episode it is. Can't even snark too hard about the dancing. Lowering snark cannons.

They're going to go home and have unbelievable amounts of sex.

You know who else is going to go home after the DM and have an unbelievable amount of sex? I'm sorry. You came to The Thing, Dean! You did the bare minimum! You paid your girlfriend and her mother an uninspired compliment! For that Lorelai will stare at you like a hungry dog salivating over the last scrap of meat on a bone.

[highways-are-liminal-spaces]

are there really that many bears in Alaska? asking bc you often include a very cute bear in your photo sets

It depends what part of Alaska you're in!

Juneau is absolutely overrun with Black Bears. They move around a bit, so sometimes you won't see any for days at a time, but also if you live there long enough, you're basically guaranteed to encounter a few "trash bears" just poking around garbage cans right in the downtown area. They're the hardest to see when they first start waking up because they can be anywhere, but then they get much more consistent with certain food sources. Driving past the dump, you often see them rolling around in the adjacent fields. Throughout late spring, they like to graze on the wildflowers along the roadsides, and you can often see the really little cubs with them. When the salmon run starts later in the summer, there are a few spots you can go where bears are basically a guarantee. Throughout the first 2 weeks of August and then again in the first week of September (i.e. the chum and then the pink runs), I could think to myself "I want to go see the bears today" and go see the bears. On my best day last summer, I had a total of 12-13 (with one that might have been the same bear twice).

We don't really get Brown Bears in Juneau—they show up every so often, but mostly if you want to see them in the area (and you should, because they're the really cool giant ABC Islands Bears, which are almost as big as Kodiak Bears), you need to head out to one of the islands like Admiralty, which has the world's highest bear: human population ratio (3:1!).

When I lived in Anchorage over a summer, I saw no bears around the city (though people often do!) and had to drive down the Kenai to see any Black Bears that whole year. They get Brown Bears down toward Seward and Homer too, but pretty rarely, and I've never seen one around there. On the other hand, I've never been to Denali and not seen multiple Brown Bears. And then any location you would go on trips specifically to see bears because of a seasonal food source like a salmon run (e.g. Katmai, Pack Creek by Juneau, Fish Creek in Hyder, Kodiak, Lake Clark, etc. (though I haven't done those last two yet)) will have dozens of bears around during the season.

And then there are some parts of the state (Interior and Far North) where bears are common but there is just so much space for them that you're less likely to encounter them. I have been hiking around Fairbanks a decent amount and, while you definitely have to take serious bear country precautions, I've never actually seen a bear around there. I've driven the whole Dalton Highway twice, where Brown Bears are very common, and I've only seen one over the course of a total of 8 days and almost 2000 miles covered. The Alcan route I drive on the other hand, which crosses Interior into Yukon, usually has bears—over the course of driving it three times, I've seen 5 Brown Bears and 3 Black Bears, and I've been told I had "pretty bad bear luck" on those trips (my friend Alex once had a single trip count of 9 Brown Bears and 7 Black Bears!).

I was trying to estimate the number of bears I have seen in Alaska, but it is essentially completely impossible. Definitely over 100 individuals of each species! Single days that stand out to me are that one 12 bear day in Juneau (that was at the Shrine during the end of the pink salmon run), one day driving the main road into Denali when we had a total of 22 Brown Bears and started having to drive right past them since we wanted to have time to look for other wildlife, and the only time I've been to Brooks Camp in Katmai, when we had a conservative estimate of 48 total Brown Bears.

This turned into a very long answer (can you tell I love talking about bears!) but basically: tl;dr yes there are a metric fuckton of bears in Alaska.

[httpscomexe]

Muzzle

Summary: Turns out, the butterfly effect can be real even without a butterfly to be affected. Now the only thing that can go wrong is the words that come out of your mouth.

(Find what I'm currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Bucky x Reader (Use of fake name)

Tags: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10

Warnings: Mentions of shooting, mentions of sedation, mentions of guns. (There will be individual warnings each chapter)

Word Count: 2863 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 3

So what if you fucked up? Just because you patched him up, doesn’t mean you’ll ever see him again or have anything to do with Hydra, right? I mean you did them a favour if anything, making sure their precious Winter Soldier didn’t suffer.

“Panic near the Manhattan district when a violent shootout occurred last week. Damage happening all around the street. Cars windows smashed and delicate plates broken in antique stores and coffee shops. Only 2 civilians were found dead, shot by Hydra agents, and multiple others found with minor injuries.” The TVs volume is low as you mindlessly stare at the wall in front of you, waiting for your friend to call you back with whatever “good news” she claimed she had, you had waited hours, but still no call back. It was almost the next day, so you finally decided you should go to bed for the night.

You awoke to the sound of your alarm on your nightstand. Instead of immediately standing, you drag your hands down your face and then turn onto your stomach before screaming into your pillow. Only then do you continue with your normal morning routine, security would be there to inspect your dorm in about five more minutes, so all you had time to do was brush your teeth, and do your hair before there was a knock on your door, so with your toothbrush still in your mouth, you unlock and open the door to your dorm, not even bothering with a good morning as you step to the side immediately and three men storm in with their guns pointed forward, inspecting every inch and undusted corner or your room. As they inspect your room, you spit your toothpaste back into the bathroom sink and rinse your hands before cleaning your face, deciding to go without makeup.

“Okay ma’am, and now for the questions that we’re required to ask you by the-”

“My name is Clover Whittaker. I am the only person who lives in this dorm, no I have not seen any suspicious activity, men, women, or heard anything suspicious from anybody or gotten any suspicious texts or calls from either a hidden or known phone number.” You tell them, giving them your fake name. Only your closest friends would ever know about who you really are. “Why are you staring at me like that? Did I miss something?” You look up from the sandwich you were lazily throwing together.

“Well the thing is ma’am.” One of the men stepped forward. “We got an anonymous tip from someone. They said last week before the shooting that you had been in contact with the Winter Soldier. What do you have to say about that?” You look back and forth between the three men.

“He knocked on my door asking for help. I didn’t know who he was, I don’t really watch the news or keep up with anything happening.” You answer honestly before walking past them to grab a light jacket.

‘Well with your TV I just assumed you watched it every morning.” One of the other men nod towards your TV. The 24/7 news channel is still on your TV, you’d forgotten to turn it off last night and now some fundraiser was on there, something about a pumpkin patch near the college.

“Haha, so funny.” You laughed, your humour entirely dry as you toss a dirty shirt into your laundry bin. “Well sense I’ve been having fully armed, bullet proof government agents barging through my door every single morning, yeah, I’ve had the TV on the news a lot lately.”

“So I take it you don’t know who I am?” The last of the three finally speak up. He’s black, or kind of light skinned but you were sure it was just the way the ceiling light was hitting him. He also had a big ass bag that looked like it weighed a ton or two and some stupid looking goggles were perched up on his forehead.

“Nope.” You answer plainly before grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. “Now if you excuse me, I need to get to class because unfortunately the grade that I get in maths could also potentially construct my entire future. Please leave my dorm.” You say quickly, waving your hand towards the door in a way that wasn’t meant to seem as rude as it did.

“Ma’am. We’re going to have to ask you to come with us.” Another man walked over and only now did you bother to read his nametag, it read “Coulson.”

“Stupid name…” You mumble, emitting a questioning ‘hmm’ from his closed lips. “Why should I come with you? Actually I don’t care. Don’t answer that. I’m not going.”

“Well see you don’t have a choice because if you refuse to come with us then we’re going to detain you and if you fight we will have to temporarily sedate you.”

“Sedate hmm?”

“Yes, sedate.”

“I feel like I should be calling my lawyer.”

“You don’t have one cause apparently you’re hiding from the law.”

“What makes you think I’m hiding from the law?”

“Anonymous tip.”

“Seriously?”

“This is your last chance, ma’am.”

“Please stop calling me ma'am. It makes me feel old and by the look on all three of your faces combined I’d say your ages would add up to at least three hundred, and there's only three of you so that’s not a compliment.”

“Well, we would refer to you by your real name but you still have refused to give it to us. So unless the name Clover is a nickname, don’t expect us to call you that.” The third one speaks up, last name “Barton,” on their nametag, also stupid.

“Right.” You sniffle awkwardly and part of you feels like running down the hall through the still opened door would be your best option but you weren’t bullet proof and their guns looked pretty real.

“Well?” The black one, who wasn’t wearing a nametag, spoke up.

“So what is your name? I mean you asked if I knew who you were and usually if the answer is ‘nope’ then normally you would tell them.”

“Sam Wilson.” He answers, his voice suddenly getting louder with either pride or annoyance, possibly both.

“You look darker on TV.”

“Okay.” Coulson says loudly, clapping his hands together. “You now have a limited option on what you say next. It will either be ‘I’ll come with you,’ ‘I’m not going anywhere with you guys,’ or you can run away and say whatever you decide so we can sedate you and get this over with.” He says.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Is it sarcastic?”

“Why is there an Avenger in my dorm?”

“Well I thought that was obvious. We’re part of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, S.H.I.E.L.D for short.”

“Could’ve just said S.H.I.E.L.D the first time. Actually you could’ve said it before I made fun of all three of you, I would’ve already made up my mind.”

“You haven’t made fun of us though?” Barton spoke.

“Not outloud.” You mumble.

“Well then I’m assuming that means you’re coming with us now that you know we have two avengers and an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D in your dorm?”

“No actually I was gonna run.” You pause, watching as their brows quirk into confusion. “I said that outloud.”

“Yea, you did.” A new voice came from the open doorway and yet another man was standing in your dorm. This one you recognised and wanted to kill yourself over.

“Hey, Nick. How’s your eye?”

At first you were okay with waiting to be interviewed, then the clock passed thirty minutes and you’d had enough of waiting. “Hey.” You start to yell out, hoping for someone to come into the small room to see what you wanted, but no one came in. Instead there was a scratching sound before someone spoke to you through the speaker in the corner of two of the walls.

“Yes? Is everything alright?”

“No everythings no alright. Why am I just sitting in this uncomfortably hard metal chair when I was told I was being interviewed by a Hydra professional?”

“Well see no one wants to bother arguing with you. Everyone we’ve asked either suddenly needs to get lunch at nine in the morning or their fish needs bathing. So you’ll have to wait a while longer.”

“If I have to wait one more minute I’m not giving information to anyone.” Just then a door finally opens.

“Good morning.” The man says. “I’m agent Ross. It’s nice to meet you.” He holds his hand out to you after he crosses the table to shake your hand and you politely shake his hand. “And your name is?”

“Nice try.”

“Well I’d feel a lot better if I knew I wasn’t talking to a criminal. Or if I knew I was.”

“You’re not.” You pause and watch as he takes the seat across from you. “For the most part.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Back to the subject of why I’m here.”

“I haven’t even gotten there.”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t seem very threatened or uncomfortable considering you’re in a building full of Avengers and secret agents that aren’t governed by the US.”

“No, I’m pretty uncomfortable… At least physically.” You shift on your chair, your ass going numb. “Mentally I learnt from the best.” You look towards the blacked out window, you knew Nick Fury would be standing behind there with his arms crossed, eyes slightly squinted, and head slightly tilted.

“So it seems you know Fury pretty well?” Ross begins to go through his folders.

“Hey if we were just gonna talk about me, we could’ve just sat on my really comfortable cheap couch in my dorm and I could’ve ordered McDonalds.”

“You know, I think you’d get along really well with Mr. Stark.”

“I’ll pass.” You say quickly upon hearing his name.

“Oh? Did we finally find a sensitive subject?” He asks rhetorically.

“Another question about me and I’m not saying anything else. I’m running out of patience.”

“Right.” He says, pulling a pen out of his tit pocket and flipping his notebook to an empty page. “So, what exactly were you doing interacting with the Winter Soldier?”

“He came to my dorm really early in the morning and he was all bloody and gross so I patched him up, and let him shower, then he was on his way.”

“And why was he wounded?” He scribbles in his notebook.

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“None of my business.”

“A man with a muzzle on his face comes knocking at your door at three in the morning while you’re studying for your exams and he’s covered in blood and smells absolutely disgusting, also would be good to mention that he was carrying illegal weapons, multiple daggers, and there was a huge gun on his back, but you don’t question it or report it?”

“Would you question the embodiment of a felony?”

“No.” He admits. “But I would definitely report it the next day.”

“And who is gonna think reported it the next day when he finds out it was reported?” You cross one leg over the other. “Is he gonna think that the cult or whatever illegal makeup Hydra considers themselves reported him to the police, or is he gonna think it was the young little college girl that more than likely would never be able to overpower him and would probably obey simple laws and morals because she goes to medical school and stays up until three in the morning studying wounds.” Ross doesn’t respond, he only asks the next question.

“Have you seen him since that night?”

“Haven’t seen the man since the shooting.”

“Now here comes the big question.” He clicks his pen and closes his notebook. “Why didn’t he shoot you?”

“Would you shoot the person who stitched you up at three in the morning?”

“Well that depends. Am I also a brainwashed murder who can’t think for himself because everything I do is commanded by whomever currently has control over my brain and my current command was to kill every living being who falls into my eye sight? Or am I just me?” He asks, folding his hands and lending over the table.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if you actually payed the slightest attention to the news, you would know that the Winter Soldier has absolutely no control over his actions.” He slides a folder over to you, you open it and the Winter Soldier's face was on the first page with his name printed above it. “His name is James Buchanan Barnes. His friends, or the people who would call him a friend, call him Bucky, but were going to call him Barnes for the sake of time.” He leans back in his chair, locking his fingers together and placing his hands on his stomach. “Now. When he’s not being brainwashed into the Winter Soldier which was a personality created from a vial which makes him pretty damn hard to kill, he’s just a normal dude. He doesn’t remember who he’s killed, what he said, where he's been. When he visited your dorm that night, he was Barnes, just a normal dude aside from the life threatening injuries. But during the shooting he was the Winter Soldier.” He told you dumbly, watching your hands as you slid the folder back over to him. “So it’s not possible that he remembered you. Even if he did remember you, he had some pretty strict instructions to kill anyone he sees. Which should’ve included you, and your friend.”

“What’re you getting at?”

“We don’t currently know who’s controlling him, but you’re the only civilian who we know has been around the Winter Soldier in the past week.”

“Oh you pathetic mother-” You groan. “Really? You guys think I’m the one who’s controlling him?”

“It’s the only reasonable explanation.” He says, giving you a look that said it wasn’t his idea to bring you in, he knew it wasn’t you. “I mean, you took care of his wounds, managed to unlock a muzzle on his face that required a very complicated key or an extremely skilled thief or lockpicker, then while in public he not only did not shoot you but also listened when you didn’t want him to shoot your friend.” He sits up.

“Pretty big coincidence huh?” Was all you had to say. “I don’t know what to say to that other than I have no fucking idea what’s going on. But you should really consider looking into the anonymous tips you were given. I’m curious about whos behind them.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” You question, sitting back, slouching as you twiddle your thumbs. “Only one person knows my real name of my entire friend group, and he would never tell anyone.”

“Thank you.” Ross stands up, collecting his folders.

“I’m sorry what? Thank me for what?”

“Well you have a very small friend group. About seven people to be exact, two of which your genuinely close to, and both are male, one of which is an avenger so we know it’s not him, so that leaves us with-”

“Edward Leeds.” Phil Coulson walks up to the chubby kid who turned around to the sound of his name. “Phil Coulson, I work with S.H.I.E.L.D, and I’m here to question you about one of your friends.”

“Oh uh, okay which friend?” He crosses his arms. “Also you can just call me Ned. Wait you said S.H.I.E.L.D? Like THE S.H.I.E.L.D? Like the Strategic Homeland Intervention-”

“Yes. S.H.I.E.L.D. Now about your friend.”

“Yea what’s their name?”

“That’s the thing, we don’t remember her name. But here's a picture of her.” He pulls out his phone, and a live video of you shows on the screen, still sitting uncomfortably on the most useless chair on the planet.

“Oh that’s Clover.”

“Her real name preferably.”

“Clover.”

“You’re a very loyal friend Mr. Leeds.”

“Like I said, Ned is okay.”

“Yes but Mr. Leeds is less friendly and it makes you uncomfortable, so I’m going to use that. Now I’m going to ask for your friends real name one more time or I’m going to have to bring you into the interrogation room, same as hers and we have legal authority to torture you since the information could be vital to save thousands or even millions of lives.”

“No.”

“Her name is Jasper.” You smirk as Ned, who was sitting upright next you, his eyes not leaving the numerous torture devices, finally says, and it still isn’t the truth.

“What a friend Ned.” You say, your arms crossed as you try your hardest to look betrayed, even though it was yet another fake name, just one that was actually in the government's database.

“Full name preferably.”

“Jasper Rosefield.” He says.

“Well Ms. Jasper.” Agent Ross says. “Now we definitely know you’re hiding something.”

[nat-seal-well]

WIP Not-Wednesday <3

I was tagged by @evilbunnyking!

Tagging @pinksparkl @lovelylonerliterature @serenpedac @agentnatesewell and anyone else who wants to share :) I’m sorry this is so late ;-;

(A few weeks ago I went out on a boat on the ocean for the first time to see whales. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done, because the water was rough and it was cold and cloudy and rainy. It was also the most exciting thing I have ever done and each time we went over a wave I was equally terrified and thrilled. This still-untitled fic is inspired by that. The little town it’s set in is based on a real place :) Have some Nat/Marin <3)

She’s been pacing since they left.

It’s impossible not to. Not when it’s right there. The huge, wide, unending expanse of blue that it is—though today it’s looking more gray than blue. Nat’s observation doesn’t do a single thing to help with her worry.

Gray waters to match gray skies.

“You’re worried.” Mason’s words form around the puffs of white smoke that slips past his lips.

He’d lit the first cigarette almost as soon as Nat had started pacing, right after the others left. The scraping sounds from her shoes against uneven cobblestone probably hurt his ears. She doubts the roaring of the ocean is helping, and feels a pang of guilt for just a second.

But then water thunders against the rocks below again, and it forces Nat to spin on her heels and keep walking. Retracing the same path all over again. Movement helps keep the flurry of anxiety at bay, but there’s nothing to stop it when her feet are still.

“Of course I’m worried,” Nat says. “They’re out there, on a boat. A very small boat. What else am I supposed to do but worry?”

“That one’s never had any issues,” Mason grunts from under the protection of a small, covered part of the deck, out of the rain. “Rebecca said so. Chose it for that reason. It didn’t sink before, it ain’t gonna sink now.” He pauses, and Nat can practically hear the probably that goes, thankfully, unspoken. “They’re fine.”

Nat runs a hand through her hair as she walks along the stretch of the viewing deck: high up from the crashing of the sea on black rocks below, made of eternally-wet stone from the rain that always seems to be falling in this part of the world. It stretches a decent length, with plenty of room for tourists to stand and watch the water and look for whales or other sea life.

Right now, though, it’s completely bereft of any visitors aside from her and Mason. Which is more than fine with her.

Besides, the rain is much too cold today and the wind is too strong for the average human to feel anything but miserable, so it’s good no one is here. There’s a road just past the deck, and on the other side of that, the street is crammed with tiny shops. But those all have “closed” signs in the windows. Even the houses up the steep hills past the shops are vacant. Nat knows for a fact that the whole, minuscule town is empty.

There isn’t another living soul anywhere to be seen. Probably because the Agency issued some sort of faux warning the day before for unusual weather that could trigger a potential tsunami, to make sure all humans stay clear until the mission is completed. It’s the same mission her heart’s currently tackling, far away from the safety of her arms and out of even Nat’s enhanced line of sight. According to all of the papers Unit Bravo looked over together, somewhere out there, there’s a pod of selkies the Agency wants to win over. Preferably before they steal away another fisherman. Or rather, until another fisherman finds one and steals them away. Like in all the stories. That’s a lot of paperwork no one wants to deal with.

She keeps a careful distance from the tall stone wall as she paces. The wind keeps blowing her hair every which way, and the falling rain is coming down at an angle. Her long, olive-green raincoat can only do so much. Part of her wants to raise the hood over her head, but doing so blocks more of her vision. Nat needs to be able to see as much as possible so that she doesn’t miss the boat’s return.

[occult-rh]

Royale High Dolls

This is a little different from the usual content I post here, but I wanted to talk about the situation with the new toys coming into Royale High.

This is coming from someone who can afford all of the toys and therefore all of the items and has genuinely considered buying them. But now, as I'll explain below, I refuse to.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝๋࣭⭑👽๋࣭ ⭑⚝⋆

It's incredibly frustrating to have very few sets in the last couple of years. (Only NINE in the past 3 years, since June 2021) Out of these nine sets I've mentioned, only two of them (Peppermint Princess and TTYL) have been under 100k. The next cheapest of these sets is surprisingly, Opposites Attract (Released 2022) followed by Summer Fantasy (2021). At the time of release, both of these sets were considered to be unreasonably expensive. The cheapest set in the past 2 years is very surprisingly, Snow Swan (2023). It's coming in at a whopping 154k, followed by Whimsy Witch (2022) at 183k! The point I'm trying to make here is that before the Summer Fantasy set was released, the most expensive set was Princess Starfrost at only 125.5k. The average price for sets was 110k-120k. What on earth happened?

I find this inflation to be completely unnecessary and ridiculous, seeing as this game is tailored towards KIDS. Kids do not have hours upon hours to spend farming for diamonds because they have school and extracurriculars to worry about. And it is almost impossible to farm the required amount of diamonds for any of the more recent sets only on weekends, even with multipliers. You would have to spend an unhealthy amount of time playing every single day to be able to afford anything. And in my opinion, that isn't the way to make a sustainable game.

The new sets are simply an extension of this inflation. How can you release one of the largest updates ever, which introduces more new items in a single update than the entire year combined, and make it inaccessible to most people? As I stated before, this game is tailored toward KIDS. They do not have hundreds of dollars to spend on toys, and if their parents are reasonable, they definitely won't let them. I cannot understand why someone would do this other than blatant greed.

My biggest reason for not buying the set is simply because it makes me very upset to be paying money to a person who pretends not to be focused on the monetary. Royale High was recently described as a "Passion Project" by Beaplays. (Don't quote me on this, this is from memory.) A Passion Project is something that allows an individual to pursue and present something they enjoy to other people. If RH was a true passion project, why would Barbie need to attach steep prices and hold sets back for what I assume months or even years instead of just releasing them to the public? I understand that Barbie needs to make a living, but she doesn't need the excess money she's making off of these dolls. It's quite simply the fattest and most obvious cash grab I've ever seen in my life, and I refuse to play into it.

As well as this, unfortunately, the company that produced the dolls very loudly supports Israel. It is important to note that it was NOT ROYALE HIGH'S CHOICE to use this company, but rather Roblox's. Allegedly, Royale High was not aware of this until after they signed the contract. If you'd like to buy any of the dolls yourself, it's best to do so through a reseller. (Or steal from Walmart, it's not like they need the money. /hj)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝๋࣭⭑👽๋࣭ ⭑⚝⋆

The entire situation makes my blood boil. I haven't played RH in the past two weeks even before the update. I'll still try to make some posts occassionally, but to be quite honest all my motivation and love for this game has been put on the back burner. It's so disheartening to see a game you've loved and have been playing for the past 6 years succumb to terrible greed.

[marimelwrites]

Send 🧡 for RECEIVER to greet SENDER with a warm hug. / ava and emir <3

From this Soft Prompts meme here!

It wasn't often that Emir and Ava had to spend time apart from one another. Barring the awkward period of time in which they very nearly ended up ending their long standing partnership and friendship, they saw each other frequently. Basically, every single day. On the off season, it wasn't uncommon for Ava to reach out to Emir to join her for a run or a workout so that they could maintain their stamina and tone when they weren't on the ice constantly. If they couldn't do that, it wasn't a surprise if Ava would ask for Emir to come over so that they could binge a show, eat something she cooked, and enjoy each other's company.

So, when Ava had to join her family for a trip to visit family for a funeral of an uncle, she felt the absence. It was surprising, just how large of a gap Emir left in her life. She would have asked him to join her, if her parents hadn't booked a flight for the three of them, only, and if Emir had known that uncle well. He knew plenty of her family closely, but this one had not been one of those. Ava rarely got to see him, for that matter. Still, a sad affair, a flight to another state, and no Emir felt breathtakingly empty.

After being with family for a week, she flew back, prior to her parents. Asking Emir to pick her up from the airport seemed like perfect sense to her. She could hardly contain herself as the plane got closer and closer to home. Closer and closer to him. She almost wished she could fast forward the plane taxiing on the runway, stopping and having to listen to the pilot before they were able to start disembarking the plane. She wanted to get to the baggage claim where she knew Emir would be waiting for her.

It seemed like excruciating hours when, finally, she was allowed to leave the plane. Her legs carried her past slower people, towards the baggage claim as quickly as she could without running. Ava wished she wasn't so petite, trying to find Emir over a sea of people taller than her seemed almost like an impossible task. In the end, it was almost as if her heart and soul knew exactly where she would find him. As if drawn by some magnetic force, Ava turned to look in a direction and her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing in the midst of a steady stream of people. A beacon in the middle of chaos.

Ava saw nothing else. Heard nothing else. She took off in a run, closing the gap between them before throwing herself at Emir trusting, and knowing, that he would catch her with ease. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, and she buried her face in the curve of his neck breathing in his familiar scent and drawing in his warmth. She felt whole once again. Everything was right in the world with Emir's arms around her, holding her with a comforting familiarity that she could get from no other person in the world.

She pulled back only enough to take in every single feature of his face before giving him a soft kiss. As she felt her feet touch the floor, her arms wrapped around him in a way so very common for them that it felt almost like two pieces of a puzzle being fit back together once again. Her cheek was resting against him as she sighed with relief and contentment.

"I've missed you, Emir," she breathed out in a soft voice that she wasn't even sure he could hear her. And she had missed him. More than any words could express. Her arms tightened around him a fraction. "Don't let me go for a little bit, please. Let's just stay right here for another minute." Resting her chin against his chest, her eyes looked up into his face and a soft smile took over her features. It was an expression only reserved for Emir, one he had seen countless times, to be sure. It was an expression that, to anyone else, would say words she didn't even need to say in that moment. They were three important words all in one silent glance. I love you.

[redhairedgirl95]

Omg that fic of stellas going through her ed was amazing you write incredibly please give us a part two where the girls or the guys find out and try and help her I need her happy lol

Too proud to ask for help

Set before season 3 episode 21

part one is here

“Stella? Are you ready? We’re going out to train.”

No answer. Maybe she was still asleep. It was 10am already, but Stella could sleep for the whole day if no one woke her up. And it seemed it was Tecna’s turn to do so. She knocked a couple of times and, when the Princess didn’t answer, she sighed and prepared herself for her friend’s screams. Stella was never in a good mood when someone interrupted her slumber.

Oddly enough, she wasn’t in bed, but Tecna was sure she hadn’t seen her at breakfast. Maybe she was already out in the courtyard. But, as she was about the leave the room, she heard noise coming from Stella’s private bathroom. Was she sick? She crossed the room and entered the bathroom without knocking. Nothing could have prepared for the sight that appeared in front of her eyes. Stella was kneeling by the toilet, a hand to her mouth, ready to make herself throw up. Again.

Tecna’s blue/green eyes grew big and she immediately grabbed a towel and went to kneel by Stella, circling her shoulders with an arm. “Stella …” She whispered, using the towel to gently wipe her mouth and her hands, as Stella’s eyes filled with tears.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Turns out, she’d been doing that to herself for weeks, using her illusions to keep them from noticing how much weight she had lost. They all knew about her history but they thought it was all in the past. Stella had thought that too before she’d found herself bent down on a toilet once again after their return from the Mirror of Truth. Her father’s rejection, Aisha becoming blind, Brandon’s capture, Bloom going away, Tecna almost dying … It had all been too much and she had been dealing with it the only way she knew how: by punishing herself for every single thing. If only she’d been more present in her father’s life, maybe she’d noticed he was getting close to the Countess; if she’d accompanied the Winx to Andros, maybe she could’ve helped Aisha; if she’d stayed back on Eraklyon, she could’ve saved Brandon; she could’ve gone with Bloom to Pyros; she could’ve done more for Tecna …

She told them everything, and they couldn’t help but think it was their fault too. They should have noticed sooner, they should have helped her. They canceled training for the day, and stayed curled up in Stella’s bed doing all of her favorite things. After a long, calming bath, Flora did her hair while Musa painted her nails. Aisha did her best impression of their Professors, making them all laugh, even Stella, who was sitting between Bloom and Brandon, whom they had called right away, thinking his presence would help cheer her up. It did. But he couldn’t stay for long and, at night, when Brandon had to go back to Red Fountain promising to come back first thing in the morning, Tecna volunteered to keep her company. They lay in one of Stella’s sunbeds out on her balcony, curled under a blanket, and looked up at the stars.

At some point, Tecna thought Stella was falling asleep, but then she spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, Stella.”

“No? I’m making everything about me, as always. You should hate me. With all that’s happened to you … I am the one who’s complaining!”

Tecna looked at her friend’s eyes, which were becoming clouded with new tears.

“None of this is your fault. It’s Valtor’s. Everything that’s happened this year is Valtor’s fault.” She got closer and hugged tight. “We don’t want to lose you, Stella. We all love you.”

Stella hugged her too as she cried, holding onto Tecna.

“She’s right, you know?” Bloom asked, sitting down on an empty sunbed, followed by the other Winx. “We need you, Stel.”

“What … what are you doing here?” Now they were all on the balcony, all six of them. In their pajamas, and curled under blankets they had brought from their rooms.

“We wanted to be with you.” Aisha said, smiling at her friend.

“Yeah, and we couldn’t sleep. You cry so loud!”

“MUSA!” Flora was shocked and there were a couple of seconds of complete silence before Stella’s roaring laugh filled the air. “Oh, I’m sorry if I’m having a mental breakdown. I guess your next birthday present would be earplugs!”

To that, everyone started laughing. It would be a journey, but they would get through it. It was just another mission, and the Winx would win it. Together.

[animanightmate]

Source here.

[Image description: a series of 15 tweets from Peter Clines (@PeterClines). text follows:

1. I’ve seen a few folks discusing the latest slate of Netflix cancellations, and I thought “hey, this is the internet—I should share MY thoughts.”

So let me tell you what I think’s going on with streaming shows right now. But first... a little history.

2. Back in ye olden broadcast times, creative folks in television made a lot of their money on the back end—what publishing folks now call the long tail. Sure you got paid for that episode, but you also got paid the first time the network aired it. And also...

3. ...when it got replayed later in the season (reruns!). And the big dream was syndication, when you’d make non-stop money. Okay, not tons of it, but with syndication those pennies could add up.

These are residuals. Actors get ‘em. And writers. And directors. Even the crew.

4. Yeah, IATSE crew members got residuals. The biggest ones, really (which tends to come as a shock to many folks). That’s why they had that amazing healthcare plan for so many years. It was funded by their residuals.

5. So anyway back around 2006-ish, many folks noticed their residual checks were shrinking. A lot. Because episodes weren’t getting rerun. And things weren’t going into syndication.

Why not?

Because the studios were streaming them instead. Miss an episode? Watch it online!

6. “Hang on,” said the creative folks. “Where’s our cut?”

“You don’t get a cut,” said the studios. “Check your contracts. Nothing about the internet in there.”

“Well let’s put it into the contracts.”

“Hahahahaaaa. No.”

And thus we had the Writers Guild (WGA) strike of 2007-2008.

7. Much has been said about this. Some of it by me (intrepid entertainment journalist at the time). The WGA struck to get new streaming terms put into contracts. The actors (SAG) and directors (DGA) supported them almost immediately.

IATSE... didn’t. That’s a whole ‘nother story.

8. Anyway the strike was overall successful and new terms became standard for streaming residuals.

With one catch. And I think that catch—that concession—is what’s shaping a lot of streaming decisions right now.

9. Y’see, in negotiations the studios kept *insisting* they weren’t sure streaming would make money. Even though, for example, NBC was going to the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas and saying they expected to make one billion in online revenue that year.

10. They insisted the creative folks agree to a "free window.” For a set number of days, a network can stream a show and not pay ANY residuals. This would let them recoup costs in the uncertain world of the internet. Once the window's past, residuals would flow at the agreed rates.

11. The window? Twenty-four days for new shows, seventeen for established shows.

Networks can stream a brand new show for three and a half weeks and pocket every single cent of revenue they earn from it.

Does this timeframe sound a bit familiar?

12. D’you ever wonder why on so many network sites, they’d show you the latest episode, maybe the previous three... but then you have to sign up and pay?

It’s so they don’t have to pay residuals. As long as you’re watching in that 24 day window, they don’t have to share a penny.

13. Sounds like a model that would really benefit from you binging a lot of episodes in the first week or two, doesn’t it? And a show people don’t binge immediately would cost the studio money, because they’d have to start paying out residuals.

14. (and as a side note-- keeping a bunch of older shows online? That also means paying residuals. Better to remove them from your service. It saves you money)

15. I think this is what’s driving so many studio decisions right now in regards to streaming. They've gotten used to not paying residuals to the creative folks and they want to keep it that way. That’s why popular, well-reviewed shows get cancelled (or removed from services).

End image description.]