#her favorite character is helper

[altermay]

how do you find all of the best venture bros tumblr posts?

(I actually started watching it from your tumblr and it’s one of my favorite things now I’ve watched it twice)

Autism tbh 👍

Ok tho im actually so glad you started watching it because of my tumblr because ehhehe its my favorite show and that makes me really happy. So underrated. Im on my fourth watch through rn

[pukefactory]

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I’ve been completely captivated by @rachaeldafrog ’s artwork lately and felt inspired to write a short story based on one of their pieces. Since it’s the Easter season, I thought Bassie would be a fitting choice. Please check out Rachael’s blog and consider giving them a follow—their art and ideas are truly incredible. I hope they don’t mind me using their work as a cover for this story (I’ll replace it if needed!).

– COMET

⋆˚✿˖° WEEPING WILLOW ⋆˚✿˖°

𖥸 Summary: A Short Story Featuring Yandere Bassie X Reader

𖥸 Character(s): Bassie (Dandy’s World)

𖥸 Reader Pronouns: Not Specified

𖥸 Genre: Short Story, SFW

𖥸 Word Count: 932

𖥸 Warning(s): Obsessive And Unhealthy Behaviour

𖥸 Image Credits: @rachaeldafrog

You were never supposed to mean this much to her.

It started the way everything in Garden View did—like a dream left out in the sun too long. Faded. Dusty. The scent of chalk pastels and corroded paint peeling off the walls. Classical music spun softly through the air, fluttery and fragile, like it was too scared to touch you. The curtains were painted gold with sunlight, but they never moved. Not even when the wind howled.

You were the new helper. The guest. The one from Outside who didn’t flinch when someone’s smile was too wide or their shadow moved wrong. You stayed. You saw her.

That was your first mistake.

You laughed at her jokes—genuinely. Not politely. Not nervously. You shared pressed flowers with her, told her you liked how she giggled when she got excited. That was the second mistake.

And the third?

Well. The third was that you existed. And you stayed too long. And you looked her in the eyes one day while the others ran past, and you said:

“You always look like you’re about to cry, Bassie.”

And she did. Because someone had finally noticed.

There were signs before it happened. Little things. Quiet things. Soft moments planted like tulip bulbs in March, watered slowly with paranoia you didn’t see until it was too late.

She started sitting closer. Just a little. Sock-covered knees brushing yours under the coloring table. She began remembering things you never said—your favorite food, what colours made you uneasy, which hallways you avoided when the lights flickered wrong.

“I’m just doing my part,” she’d giggle, eyes too wide. “Taking notes! Like a good little teammate, ha…” But her smile stopped touching her eyes.

When you talked to Flyte for too long, Bassie would appear—coughing, smiling, hovering too close. When you pat Cocoa’s head, her laughter would catch in her throat. She’d stare.

“You have nice hands,” Bassie murmured once. Almost dreamlike. Her eyes locked on your fingers like they were spun sugar. “They’re soft. Like ribbon.”

Then she took your hand. Pressed it to her cheek. Kissed your palm. And held it there, fingers clamped tightly around your forearm. You tried to pull away—just gently—but every small tug was met with a firmer hold. You knew then that something was wrong.

And when you left her alone, even for a moment—

“Where were you?”

Her voice, flat and trembling, startled you behind the set curtains. She was holding a tulip. Or… she had been. It was crushed in her fist like a paper cup.

“B-Bassie—?”

“You said ten minutes.” Her eyes didn’t blink. “You were gone… twelve.”

The room you woke up in had no windows.

It was soft. At first.

Pillows stitched by hand in your favorite colors. Dried petals tucked into tea cups. Candles flickering purple and blue, casting trembling shadows shaped like flowers. Everything smelled like memory.

In the corner, there she was. Kneeling by a half-finished bouquet, thread looping through a ribbon with your initials stitched into the stem.

“Oh! You’re awake! That’s, uh… that’s great!”

She held up the bouquet.

“This one’s for you,” she said, smiling like glass about to break. “I picked everything you liked. Did I do it right? I hope I did it right, ha…”

Your throat burned. “Bassie,” you croaked. “Where are we?”

She paused. Then smiled again. “Just… a safe place. For us.”

You sat up on the couch. Hands shaking. Lips dry.

“Bassie. This isn’t funny.”

Her smile didn’t fade. But her eyes began to shimmer, like something cracked underneath.

“N-no, you’re right. It’s not funny. It’s serious. I know. I know.”

She stood too fast. Tripped over her flower-petal skirt. Her pigtails bounced as she rushed to you, knees hitting the floor hard.

“My rose,” she whimpered, voice dry and cracking like autumn leaves. “No no no, please. Please look at me!”

And you did. You shouldn’t have.

Tears—thick, dark ichor—streamed down her cheeks. Not like rain. Like oil. Like blood that had forgotten how to be warm.

They soaked her skirt. Stained the collar of her blouse. She clutched her chest like something inside was trying to rip its way out.

“I-I…” her voice trembled. “I can be like them, too!”

You flinched.

“What?”

“Like Flyte! Or Cocoa! Or Eggson!” Her breath hitched. “I—I can be fun. And useful. And strong. I can be good! I can press flowers with you every day, I can be soft and sweet and quiet and everything you want! I’ll try so hard! I’ll try until it hurts, just please—”

Her hands shook. The air buzzed. The candlelight flickered, gold and low.

“Just please stay right by my side. I need you. And you need me.”

Your hand moved before you could think. You reached out, gently wiped the ichor from beneath her eye. It clung to your fingers.

“Bassie,” you whispered.

She made a sound—somewhere between a sob and a gasp—and her face collapsed into something awful and beautiful and terrifying all at once. Grief. Joy. Desperation. Pure, aching fear.

Then she fell into your lap. Arms wrapping tight around your waist, face pressed against your chest like if she just stayed there, the world would stop spinning.

“You said I was your favorite,” she murmured.

You froze.

“You said that once.”

“I—”

“You did.”

And you had. Once. Casually. After a long day. She smelled like lilacs and handed you painted eggs and said funny things when you were sad. You’d meant it. Then.

“I didn’t mean for this—”

“I know,” she said softly. “That’s why it hurts.”

[tetsuissohot]

JJK MEN as DADS - fluff drabble

☆summary. fluff moment between jjk men and their kids - each character as a different scenario.

☆warning/tags: fem!reader, teeth rotting fluff, jjk men as dads

☆word count: 1.3k

☆a/n: I had so much fun writing this cute drabble! I hope you can awwww like I did!

Nanami Kento | Gojo Satoru | Toji Fushiguro | Geto Suguro | Choso Kamo | Shiu Kong

The Unbeatable Claw Machine Champion... or Not

The brightly lit arcade buzzed with energy, kids running around with excitement. Gojo stood in front of the claw machine, eyes narrowed with concentration. His son was bouncing beside him, eyes wide and filled with hope as he pointed at the cute panda plushy inside.

“Alright, watch the master at work,” Gojo said, cracking his knuckles dramatically.

His son giggled, clutching his favorite toy—a tiny batman plushy . The claw descended slowly, aimed perfectly for the panda, but just as it was about to grab it, the claw slipped, and the plushy tumbled back into the pile.

“Darn it!” Gojo exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This thing’s rigged!”

His son tugged on his sleeve. “It’s okay, Dad! You can try again!”

Gojo puffed out his chest, determined now more than ever. “I won’t give up! My honor is on the line!”

Five attempts later, Gojo had spent an embarrassing amount of money and still hadn’t won the plushy. His son was laughing now, clutching his sides as Gojo groaned in defeat.

“I swear I could exorcise curses, but I can’t win a simple claw game,” Gojo muttered, shaking his head.

His son grinned, tugging on his sleeve again. “It’s okay, Daddy. You’re still the best!”

Gojo couldn’t help but smile at that. “Alright, but next time, that panda is mine.”

Daddy’s Little Helper

It was a quiet, early morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains. Nanami sat on the edge of the bed, his tie draped loosely around his neck, waiting patiently as his daughter, a serious expression on her face, stood in front of him. She was determined to tie it properly, her little fingers fumbling with the knot as she tried to remember the steps he’d shown her.

“Over... under... then around, right, Daddy?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Nanami chuckled softly, resisting the urge to fix the tie himself. He adored these little moments—her small hands trying to help him get ready for work. “That’s right, but remember to pull it tight here.” He pointed at the knot gently.

After a few more seconds of struggle, she stepped back, triumphant. The tie was crooked, the knot slightly uneven, but she beamed up at him, proud of her work. Nanami looked down at her, his heart melting at the sight of her toothy grin.

“How do I look?” he asked, adjusting the tie slightly but leaving her knot mostly intact.

“You look perfect!” she said, bouncing on her feet, her happiness contagious.

He crouched down to her level and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll wear it just like this today.”

Dr. Megumi to the Rescue

Toji lounged on the couch, an amused smirk on his face as he watched little Megumi waddle over. The boy was wearing one of Toji’s oversized button-up shirts, the fabric hanging off him like a giant lab coat. He had a plastic stethoscope draped around his neck, and a toy doctor’s kit in one hand.

“I’m Doctor Megumi,” he declared, his face serious as he climbed onto the couch beside his dad. “I’m gonna fix your boo-boo.”

Toji raised an eyebrow, leaning back as Megumi got to work. “Oh yeah? Gonna fix me up, huh? How are you gonna do that, Doc?”

Megumi frowned in concentration, gently poking at the scar on Toji’s lip. “First, I gotta check if it hurts.”

Toji played along, letting out a fake groan. “Ouch, yeah, definitely hurts.”

Megumi nodded, taking this very seriously. He grabbed a band-aid from his kit and awkwardly pressed it onto his dad’s lip, the bandage far too big and covering half of Toji’s mouth.

“There. All better!” Megumi said proudly, climbing off the couch to admire his work.

Toji looked at his son, the band-aid dangling off his lip, and couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re pretty good at this, Doc. Think I’m gonna be okay now?”

Megumi gave a firm nod. “Yup! But you gotta keep the band-aid on forever.”

“Forever, huh?” Toji ruffled his son’s hair. “Alright, if the doctor says so.”

Braids and Giggles

Suguru sat on the floor, his back against the couch as his little girl stood behind him, combing through his long hair with wide, curious eyes. Her fingers twisted the strands in every direction, her tiny hands moving in random patterns as she tried her hardest to braid it.

“Are you sure this is gonna look good, sweetie?” Suguru asked, his lips quirking up in a soft smile.

“Yep! I’m almost done, Daddy! You’re gonna look soooo pretty!” she said, her voice full of excitement.

Suguru chuckled, sitting patiently as she continued to twist and tangle his hair. A few moments later, she clapped her hands together, signaling she was finished. “Okay! Done!”

Suguru reached up, feeling the lopsided, uneven braid she had made. Some pieces were sticking out, others were barely in the braid at all, but her eyes were sparkling with pride.

He turned to her with a warm smile. “What do you think? Do I look pretty now?”

His daughter nodded enthusiastically. “The prettiest!”

Suguru chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Then I guess I’m ready for the day. Thanks, sweetheart.”

Choso sat on the floor in front of the mirror, his lips painted bright pink, his eyeshadow a chaotic mix of colors that his daughter had lovingly applied. She was concentrating, brushing his hair with a little comb while humming to herself.

The Sparkliest Runway Star

“You’re almost ready for the runway, Daddy!” she announced proudly, pulling out a sparkly headband and placing it on his head.

Choso smiled softly, watching her work with so much joy. “You think Mom’s going to be impressed?”

His daughter beamed, nodding excitedly. “She’s gonna love it! You’re gonna look like a princess!”

Choso chuckled at that, glancing at his reflection. He certainly didn’t look like a fierce curse user anymore. Instead, he looked like a very sparkly, dolled-up dad. But seeing how happy it made his daughter, he didn’t mind one bit.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go show Mom,” Choso said, standing up and offering her his hand.

They walked together, hand-in-hand, to find Y/N. As soon as they entered the room, Y/N burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as she took in the sight of Choso in full makeup and glitter.

“Oh wow, look at you two,” she said, grinning.

Choso gave a mock-serious pose. “What do you think? Do I have a future in runway modeling?”

Their daughter clapped her hands, bouncing on her feet. “He looks like a princess, right, Mom?”

Y/N nodded, laughing. “The most beautiful princess.”

The Nerf Ambush Gone Wrong

Shiu and his son were in the middle of an intense Nerf battle, ducking behind makeshift forts of pillows and couches. Both were armed, giggling as they took aim at each other. Shiu peeked around the corner, ready to fire, when suddenly—

Thwack!

“Ah!” came a voice from the hallway.

Both froze. The Nerf darts had gone rogue and hit you, who had been peacefully carrying a laundry basket. You stood there, eyebrows raised, clearly unimpressed.

Shiu immediately dropped his Nerf gun, hands up in surrender. “It was an accident, I swear!”

Your son giggled nervously. “Sorry, Mommy!”

You just shook your head, grinning. "Now, help me pick up these darts."

You sighed dramatically, placing the laundry down and shaking your head, pretending to be serious. “Well, if that’s how you’re going to play...”

Without warning, you snatched up one of the extra Nerf guns from the couch and shot both of them with a perfect aim. Shiu stumbled back, clutching his chest in mock pain. “Oh no, she’s too powerful!” he said, collapsing onto the floor dramatically.

Your son immediately joined in on the fun, laughing as he ran to hide behind you, the tide of the battle turning in your favor.

Shiu stayed on the ground, dramatically pretending to be defeated. “Looks like you’ve won, but this isn’t over...”

MASTERLIST

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Chronicles

Dive into the profiles of the members of Camp Seventeen!

Name: Choi Seungcheol (Coups, Cheol) 

Descent: Son of Zeus, King of Gods, God of Sky, Thunder and Lightning

Symbol: Thunderbolt 

Role: Camp Leader - Sets rules and assigns roles in camp to everyone. Responsible for overseeing team members and ensuring discipline on camp. 

Residence: White marbled mansion, surrounded by oak trees, located on higher ground than everyone else so he can keep an eye on camp.

Companion: Eagle called Zephyr who is often seen patrolling the skies to protect camp. Seungcheol has a special whistle call to make it land on his shoulder. 

Profession: Meteorologist - He has a very good understanding of the weather and can accurately predict changes. Although he does not enjoy his job as he despises working in spaces where he does not have control aka isn't the boss. On the orders of his father he’s also pursuing a degree in astronomy.

Fun facts: Seungcheol’s anger is quite destructive - surprise, surprise, it thunders when he’s mad. His hair was black when he was born but streaks of gold started to appear whenever he used his powers and now it is fully golden blonde. Seungcheol also has an insane appetite and is also always making sure everyone eats well.

Name: Yoon Jeonghan (Han, Angel Boy) 

Descent: Son of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, Warfare and Handicraft 

Symbol: Medusa’s head 

Role: Quest strategist - Studies warfare strategies of other camps and develops a plan of action for his team. Assigns roles in Quests to all members. 

Residence: A tree house nestled on top of an olive tree that surprisingly no one can seem to climb other than the man himself. No one on camp has seen the inside of his house though all have tried - it is believed to house the rare luxuries he collects without anyone’s knowledge.

Companion: Bratty owl called Nox that only comes out at night, god knows where it goes off to in the day. (Dino often has to go on his knees and beg it to help deliver letters) 

Profession: Lawyer - He originally wanted to be a teacher however his level of intelligence was too high for a kindergarten job. In fact, he’s so intelligent that he often has to downplay his smartness at work. The only reason he enjoys being a lawyer is because of the cunningness the profession requires. 

Fun facts: Being the son of a virgin goddess makes Jeonghan a rare demigod - there’s very few known children of Athena. He’s also the camp prankster and though he gets on everyone’s nerves with his jokes, all the members adore him. He’s incredibly scared of spiders and refuses to visit Australia for the same reason. 

Name: Hong Jisoo (Joshua, Joshie) 

Descent: Son of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, Sex and Beauty

Symbol: White swan. 

Role: Camp manager - Responsible for all non training related operations on camp - meals, residences etc. Conflict resolving between members. 

Residence: A small cottage by the lake that was personally crafted by his mother's helpers hence it has all her favorite things in it - red roses, seashells, sea foam etc. To no one’s surprise, there are also mirrors everywhere in his house. 

Companion: Joshua once went to a bird shop to adopt a pet but came back with nearly every single dove, pigeon and sparrow because they would not stop screeching in his absence. Now they go everywhere with him - he’s a mini snow white.

Profession: Writer - Joshua writes romance novels often relying on real life experiences of his many affairs. His books are world famous under the pen name Mr.G (apparently short for gentleman) and they always have happy endings. 

Fun facts: When he’s not writing, Joshua loves to make his own accessories, especially with pearls. He also loves reading other’s writings - particularly fanfictions of his characters. He is also a very good singer, often playing the guitar during evening campfires. 

Name: Wen Junhui (Jun, Moon Junnie) 

Descent: Son of Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture, Harvest and Seasons 

Symbol: Cornucopia 

Role: Camp Farmhand - Growing and harvesting crops needed for cooking. Cooks dinner for all members. (Breakfasts and lunches are each member’s personal responsibility, though Jun insists on packing lunch for members who go to work.) 

Residence: A small farmhouse in the middle of his fields at the foot of the hills. It’s got windmills and creeks and bales of hay - very picturesque 

Companion: A two feet long rough green snake called Fluffy. Unlike its name, it's skinny and clingy and is wrapped around Jun at all times. 

Profession: Acupuncturist - works in a small clinic at the edge of the city and is quite renowned for his skill. Although looking at how most of his patients are young women with barely significant health issues, maybe he’s more renowned for his looks. 

Fun facts: He's the one that most members from other camps have a crush on - he’s always having to run away from fawning girls during quest season. He loves adventure sports and often goes off on his own to do something outdoors. Hates the city, never visits it unless he has no choice.

Name: Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi, Tiger) 

Descent: Son of Dionysus, God of Wine, Festivity and Theatre 

Symbol: Pinecone 

Role: Camp PR - Establishing social connections with other camps. Entertaining guests who come to camp to form treaties. 

Residence: Luxurious purple and green mansion which looks a little rustic from the outside with all the grapevines and ivy but on the inside it's the very epitome of lavishness. 

Companion: Horang the leopard tiger - He had requested his father to gift him a tiger but his drunk old man sent him a leopard and Hoshi refuses to accept it. He often dresses it in a tiger outfit so it's safe to say Horang is actually quite sick of him.

Profession: Club owner - Hoshi owns a small underground club which has an even more underground secret room only for demigods. There he *cough* illegally *cough* sells his own brewed alcohol which is a big hit and makes him big money. 

Fun facts: Makes and sells alcohol but does not drink as he cannot handle it at all. During his free time, he either studies the art of wine making or takes dance workshops in the city because he’s passionate about it. The loudest possible introvert you will meet with the largest possible social circle - literally no one hates him (except Horang) 

Name: Jeon Wonwoo (Wonu, Jeon-sshi) 

Descent: Son of Hades, King of the Underworld, God of Death and Riches

Symbol: Black Ram

Role: Camp patrolling - Patrols and secures camp borders at night. Not exactly his job but somehow always ends up doing the dishes. 

Residence: He lives in a cave underground which is quite high tech and equipped, like the bat cave. He’s got all sorts of computers and screens set up everywhere for the ease of his job. 

Companion: None. Wonwoo’s father gifted him Cerberus, a 3 headed puppy but Wonwoo gave it to Mingyu after he lost his own pet in a Quest. Natalie for some reason, likes to follow around Wonwoo like moth to a light. 

Profession: No one knows really. It’s some big secret government job that he rarely goes to the headquarters for - mostly works from the comfort of his own home at whatever time is convenient for him. 

Fun facts: He’s extremely rich - his job makes him a lot of money but also his father keeps sending him a lot of gifts, mainly gemstones. Children of Hades tend to be loners and do not join camps but Seungcheol fought tooth and nail to get Wonwoo into Camp Seventeen. Wonwoo loves to bike and often takes his motorcycle, Night Fury, to the countryside for long drives. 

Name: Lee Jihoon (Woozi, Uji) 

Descent: Son of Apollo, God of Sun, Music and Healing 

Symbol: Lyre 

Role: Camp Patrolling - Patrolling and securing camp at daytime. Also responsible for the healing wounded members 

Residence: Woozi and Vernon own neighboring twin houses - Woozi’s is white and gold and is filled with his instruments and music equipment

Companion: A pure white cow which is named….Cow. It was a reward that he got in one of the Quests years ago and its milk has medicinal properties and helps him to heal members. Cow also has a little calf called Daisy which is the common camp pet - it’s fond of all the members and is very playful with everyone, especially Vernon’s hounds. 

Profession: Music producer - He’s very good with sound and can play most musical instruments. Sometimes DJs at Hoshi’s club when Hyungwon, Jeonghan’s little crush, isn’t available

Fun facts: Woozi works from his own home studio so he barely ever leaves camp. He also doesn’t attend many social events unless really necessary. Spends longer hours than most members in physical and combat training - members suspect he considers himself a little weak since he’s the shortest and tend to hype him up at every given chance. He has the most beautiful long golden locks that he loves to style in various buns and braids.

Name: Xu Minghao (Myungho, Hao) 

Descent: Son of Ares, God of War, Battle-lust and Courage

Symbol: War helmet 

Role: Camp trainer - In charge of training members of combat. Assigns weapons and maintains the ones stored in reserves.

Residence: Brick House at the edge of the training field with his personal gym and simulation combat room.

Companion: None. Minghao does not feel any emotional attachment towards any living thing. 

Profession: Tattoo artist - Minghao always liked things that were rebellious in nature and he’s a very talented artist so he decided to combine the two as his profession. 

Fun facts: He’s one of the best warriors the world has ever seen - he's trained in many camps before he decided Camp Seventeen was it for him. The camp lost two Quest seasons because Minghao had to fight for the Amazonions as a favour to his dad but now he has the eternal support of the entire tribe. Although his father is the very symbol of rage and fury, Minghao tends to be quite calm and meditates often to keep inner peace.

Name: Kim Mingyu (Gyu, Big Boy) 

Descent: Son of Hepheastus, God of Fire, Forges and Blacksmiths

Symbol: Smith's hammer 

Role: Weapons master - he makes all the weapons and equipment for the members. Handles all engineering related matters on camp as well. 

Residence: Has the only two storey house on camp - ground floor is his personal forgery and above it is his residence which the most automated, high tech place ever - seriously, he’s made a machine for everything 

Companion: He used to have a baby donkey but lost it in a quest. (last it was seen was when Hoshi took a photo sitting on it) then Wonwoo gave him his dog because he was lonely. 

Profession: Firefighter - being the son of the god of fire helps with that. Plus Mingyu is always looking to help people in need so it was a no brainer for him when the time came for him to pick a job. However now he’s considering leaving the job to become a chef

Fun facts: Mingyu is the tallest seventeen member so it's always hard to get gear for him - it's always too small or too tight. Mingyu isn’t particularly a fan of biking but knows it's one way he can spend time with Wonwoo so he built his own bike, FireBolt. Since the terrain on camp is too uneven for a bike, he built it to be able to transform into a mechanical bull at the click of a button allowing him to ride it around everywhere no camp, inducing mini earthquakes as it runs. 

Name: Lee Seokmin (Dk, Min) 

Descent: Son of Poseidon, God of Seas, Storms and Horses 

Symbol: Water waves 

Residence: He has a boat house in the middle of the lake which the members love to use as a party yacht much to his dismay. 

Companion: Pegasus, a big stallion actually meant for battle but in reality it is a scaredy cat. Often runs the opposite side of combat regardless of Seokmin’s instructions 

Role: Camp trainer - in charge of morning warm ups and drills. Helps members with general fitness and health. 

Profession: Surf instructor - he spends pretty much all his time in and around sea because that is where he feels strongest. Often helps capsized boats and trapped animals though he’s not supposed to interfere and falls in trouble because of his good nature 

Fun facts: Seokmin was deadly scared of water as a child and would not even go near it. His father personally trained him and prepared his son for demigod life. He is one of the only members who has lived in Olympus for a while in his younger days. He's incredibly sweet and considerate though most of Poseidon’s many many sons tend to be arrogant and rude

Name: Boo Seungkwan (Uri boo, Kwan) 

Descent: Son of Hera, Queen of Gods, Goddess of Marriage, Family and Women

Symbol: Diadem 

Role: Camp PR - Like Hoshi, he too establishes alliances and treaties with camps. Often the messenger to Olympus because his mother is queen - loved by all the Gods (except Zeus) 

Residence: A Greek style house that Hera had instructed him to construct right in the middle of camp because she wants him to be the center of everything. Seungkwan dislikes it and often bunks with Vernon who’s the only one who hasn’t shooed him away when he approached. 

Companion: Patricia, the peacock that his mother gifted him but it's a bit too high end and spoilt to be in a place like camp. 

Profession: Wedding planner - Seungkwan loved weddings since he was a child mostly because he always saw his mother at one when she came to bless the unions. He decided to start his own company after nitpicking about how everyone was getting them all wrong and wanting to teach the world the right ways again. 

Fun facts: If it's not already obvious, he’s a mummy’s boy. Though Hera is the very symbol of faithfulness, the growing number of her husband’s children prompted her to have children of her own, Seungkwan being the one she’s most fond of. He’s the latest addition to camp and within days of arriving, he had already boosted Seventeen’s image beyond their expectations. He runs a secret instagram page for Camp Seventeen who’s followers are mostly girls from other camps, because the pictures are mostly the members shirtless.

Name: Chwe Hansol (Vernon, Bonon) 

Descent: Son of Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, Wilderness, and Chastity 

Symbol: Wolf  

Role: Camp patrolling - along with Woozi, he too patrols the camp at daytime. Hunts wild animals which tend to find their way into the camps.

Residence: Twin houses with Woozi, his is silver and white and has a large enclosure for his hounds. His house shines according to the cycle of the moon - brightest at full moon, almost invisible at no moon. 

Companion: Fifteen hounds that are descendants of the hounds that his mother hunts. He can’t remember fifteen names so he’s named as the numbers - One, Two, Three, so on.  

Profession: Video gamer developer - Vernon had a lot of experience as a child when he was caste as Tv show host. Though, as much as he’s used to the entertainment industry, he likes to steer clear from it hence venturing into game development 

Fun facts: Vernon is also the child of a virgin goddess and hence also a rare demigod. He’s famous for his chiseled features and is often babied by the Hunters of Artemis. Demigods aren’t allowed to meet their mortal families after initiating into camps but Vernon always sneaks out to meet his sister Sofia who he is very close to and fond of.

Name: Lee Chan (Dino, Maknae) 

Descent: Son of Hermes, Messenger of Gods, God of Trade, Luck and Travel 

Symbol: Caduceous 

Role: Camp messenger - Much like his father, Dino plays the active role of camp transport-in-charge. Any and all deliveries are his job - even when Mingyu needs a ton of iron to weld. 

Residence: A large camp tent at the entrance of camp - When he first came he claimed he wanted it to get ‘camp feels’ now he hates it but Cheol won’t let him change it. 

Companion: A tortoise named Speedy which is as slow as he is fast. Always has to run, then wait for it to catch up, then run again and wait again and so on. 

Profession: Cab driver - doesn’t particularly enjoy the job but it makes things easier for him. He says he’s saving up to go to med school one day but Woozi swears Dino said chest muscles are called pecs because they are short for spectacular so yeah, that’s probably not happening

Fun facts: He’s a kleptomaniac - he’s always stealing stuff from the members, his house is full of such artifacts. He’s also the most in touch with his demigod half siblings - the sons of Hermes are a tight bunch. Being the youngest in camp means he’s most teased but also most adored - camp messenger isn’t even a legit job, they just give him as little work as possible. 

Name: [                             ]

Descent: Daughter of Hestia, Goddess of Hearth, Home and Hospitality 

Symbol: Fire

Role: Not yet assigned 

Residence: Not yet built 

Companion: Natalie the piglet who she found stuck in the trashcan one day and decided to raise. Natalie is a fledgling meaning its a creature of Olympus and does not follow time in the mortal world

Profession: Studying her last year of Architecture

Fun facts: She's the exact opposite of everything her mother is known for - very confrontational, not hospitable and not homely at all. Most Demigods are discovered when they are 16 but she made it to 25 undetected, no one knows how. Mingyu was the one who found her because of an accident that landed her in a lawsuit - Olympus assigned Camp Seventeen to her under the suggestion of the oracle.

If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment on this post!

[tux1i]

Binge watching my favorite old cartoon, might as well make an au.

Roles will be switched and their uh role position they are in from the show.

● Caprice -

has been there, but then again it doesn't mean he will stop being so affectionate towards you (Y/N). He has..ways to change your mind if for example you don't reciprocate his feelings that is towards you. And he still, insist being affectionate and loving. Pretty much how his very, just maybe cherish you so much. He will legit not back down.

□ Garu/Haru and Caprice -

I have this concept that Caprice not only just stays in one place at the timeline, his..able to maybe go to another universe? (Just like how he encounters my mascot, That roblox Tux character from my other post lol) I just like the idea of my variant Oc's from another species they are, meeting each other and just be buddies. Nothing more.

● Garu/Haru & Caprice relationship status -

Both of them are neutral friends, But Pretty much Caprice is this typa friend that gives Garu/Haru crush/love advice. I mean, Caprice is this type of person knows about love. And helping Garu/Haru, teaching him how to escort. And not go unhinged and weird. Just like Caprice to you. In his own universe. His a jolly fellow, pretty much like this other timeline parental figure to Garu/Haru.

● Roles

Garu/Haru - an entity that crashes into the Sooga island, Manage to form into an actual human being by observing the human anatomy and faces are and how it functions. Now adopted by Ching and her family, which they sorta didn't knew yet Garu/Haru isn't a full human being. They found him filthy in the mud in this very cliche rainy stormy night. So now he becomes Ching's brother and now the employee of Goh-Rong's restaurant.

[I was fully convinced Pucca was an alien(?), with her impressive strength with NO weapons use but her fist and hands. Garu has no match, His a ninja but not able to surpass Pucca with her crazy strength. And even the episode of Tobe's nighttime troubles, Pucca uses her hair buns to signal an alien to yeah mess with Tobe. So yeah that part surprises me while binge watching it. Or maybe that 'How to make love! Love me or Kiss me' by pucca official. So that's how I ended making Garu/Haru an entity with yeah superhuman strength powers. No magic or special powers, Only same as what the Canon Pucca can do when she's able to fight.]

Pucca - Rather her being the neice of the three chefs, She's now the personal servant or helper of Ring Ring. She got recruited in a young age by Ring Ring's father. Dong King.

[Despite this Pucca isn't the role of what Garu/Haru is, she is still able to fight back with now a sword. Or maybe a metal bat? But Garu/Haru will surpass it.]

I will explain more in the futher future posts 👍

[bones4thecats]

Hello, if it's not a problem, I would like to make a request to Leona and Jamil, (my favorite boys) with a female reader who is a princess from a kingdom on the moon (and technically a divine being) and even though she had several suitors, she chose him as her boyfriend please

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Leona Kingscholar and Jamil Viper Name: {Character} with Princess! Reader That Chooses Them Over Others Requester: @marinahavik

A/N: Oh, this is so cute! I honestly think that having a person choosing them over someone else would warm their hearts, since they were always put behind others, Falena for Leona and Kalim for Jamil. Honestly it's so sad😢

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🦁 As a princess and heir to a thrown, you had a bunch of pressure on yourself, from being 'picture perfect' to having the 'best man' be yours, it was something that many went through and eventually accepted, but you did not just lay down

🦁 You had turned down man after man, most of whom all laid out their intentions behind a front of gentlemanly, and that pissed you off

🦁 Instead of keeping it to yourself and staying home, you ran to your parents and requested to be transported to Night Raven College, saying you wished to take a break and hang with your best friend, Leona Kingscholar

🦁 The beastman was not someone many could picture ruling, due to his lazy and deadbeat persona, but, you cared for him beyond everything

🦁 Though, you did not know how far he cared about you, he wanted to be your one and only, but, he did not know how to exactly lay that out to his parents, since they obviously feared your family slightly

🦁 You were divine beings, a cross between human and fae, with the ability to have extended lives with a ritual with a special gem found on the moon while still appearing completely human, with a few exceptions

🦁 Your appearance and role paled far lighter in comparison to his, but your differences drew him in, and when he felt you jump on his back as he walked around Savanaclaw, he chuckled and hugged you from the front, teasing you with that smirk of his

" Marry me! " " Huh? "

🦁 Now you had him shocked. You wanted to marry him? What about all of the other men that had come to earn your heart, did they not match with you right? Did he have to kick some ass?!

🦁 Okay, he'll put his anger behind him, for now

" Y/N? What exactly do you mean by, 'marry me'? You want to marry me for something, don't you? " " No! Those guys who have tried themselves for my heart did nothing, but you, Leona Kingscholar, you have wrapped my heart around your finger without any effort! Please, marry me and become my one and only Prince. "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐍 Jamil only knew you because of the meetings he had heard about from Kalim growing up, how fun you were and how amazingly calm you were with his younger siblings

🐍 When you came to Night Raven College monthly to visit Kalim for a week at a time, Jamil got to know you a lot better. And, while your future subjects may frown upon it, you grew to adore the young man

🐍 He had a bunch of hobbies that he had to push aside to do his main objectives in life, take care and protect Kalim from any danger

🐍 You knew he hated it, but there wasn't much you could do, because you lived on a whole different piece of floating rock, and besides, you people didn't exactly have the best relationship with humans, you were basically the same as the fae and humans, constant fights and battles

🐍 Jamil eventually became fond of you, since you would tell him to take a break as you asked one of your helpers to do something for him while you gave him a well-needed break

🐍 He and you basically became better friends than he and Kalim were, since you looked past everything that he put up as a front of patience and no-calamity, while inside he was the opposite at times

🐍 Hearing from Kalim that you were being held back for a couple months to go through suitors, his heart sunk to his stomach, you had to choose a suitor? You were still so young, barely even a young adult!

🐍 He pushed his own, and in his eyes, selfish feelings, behind and sent you a letter from him and Kalim stating their wishes of luck for you and whomever you chose to spend the rest of your life with, ruling a kingdom and all

🐍 But, when the doors slammed open and you ran in with your personal guard by your side, the two jumped and looked at you in surprise, tears falling down your face as you softly cried before smiling at Jamil

" Jamil Viper, do me the pleasure of becoming my future king. " " WHAT?! "

🐍 He was definitely surprised you would ask him that, he was a mere servant for a noble family, why would you choose him over the endless list of royalty you had laying on their knees for you

🐍 Kalim smiled and pulled your guard out of the room, stating you guys needed privacy for such a large decision and all

🐍 Jamil looked down into your eyes, which reflected the darkness of the night sky and he smiled, stating how he would love to, but he was a low-rank man from a nothing family and he couldn't possibly marry you, no matter how much his heart yearned for it

" I already spoke to my parents, 'ya snake! They said they wanted me to do what my heart wanted, and y'know what my heart wants? It wants you, and only you. Please, listen to your heart and not your brain for once. "

🐍 The male closed his eyes and let his brain go blank, freeing itself of it's constant prying of being the perfect man to help Kalim, and his heart spoke for itself for once in a very long time

" If it makes you happy, your majesty, I will be happy to wed you. I cannot wait to see Kalim's reaction, and my family's. "

🐍 Smiling at him, your tears stopped falling as wave of joy replaced the one of depression and anxiety of him turning you down once more, and while you looked into his eyes, Jamil chuckled as he leaned in for your first kiss

" Jamil! The stove! " " Oh sh- "

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 4: Read Between The Lines]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Boulevard Of Broken Dreams” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

It is your first week of basic training at Great Lakes on the north side of Chicago, and as you lie in the top bunk of your assigned bed you wonder what the hell you’ve done. You enlisted right out of high school, eighteen, no driver’s license, no work history, never been more than fifty miles outside of Soft Shell, Kentucky. The drill sergeants are always yelling and you’re bad at push-ups; you can’t understand the recruits from big cities like Los Angeles, Miami, Las Vegas, Detroit, Houston, and they don’t seem to get you either, and aren’t interested enough to try. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t signed that five-year contract, but where would you be if you weren’t here? Home is not words but textures, colors, fumes that still burn in your sinuses: cigarette ash on rose pink carpets, red embers glowing in the wood stove, Hamburger Helper and Mountain Dew, coffee creamer in Hungry Jack potatoes, laughter and heavy footsteps and slamming doors, scratch-off games, dogs barking, collecting coins from couch cushions for gas money, scrubbing clothes in the bathtub when the washer quits, Mama taking gulps from her favorite cup—plastic, Virginia Beach, filled with equal parts Hawaiian Punch and vodka—when she thinks no one is looking, blue shows flickering on the television, Family Feud, Maury, Good Morning America, WWE SmackDown. For as long as you can remember you’ve known you couldn’t stay. Now you’re getting out, but nothing in life is free.

You are at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, and even though it’s hotter than some noxious, volcanic hellscape—Mercury, Venus, Io—you are beginning to like it. You taste the salt of sweat when you lick your lips, sugar in the sweet tea they serve in the chow hall. There’s a magic in building something where there was only empty space before, in patching roofs and painting walls. Here being quiet and watchful is exactly what they want from you: head down, hammer striking nails, measurements and angles and long hours under the sun with no complaints. You’re not just running away anymore. You are creating something new.

You are sitting beneath swaying palm trees and a full moon on Diego Garcia, draining cans of Guinness with Rio, and he’s telling you things he shouldn’t, too personal, too honest: Sophie wants to try for a baby next time he’s home on leave, and part of him wants that too but he’s terrified. As thunder rumbles in the distance and raindrops begin to patter on the waves of the Indian Ocean, you tell Rio you think he’d be a good father. He wonders how you figure that, and you say because he’s not like any of the men from home. He gives you one of his crooked smiles—a flash of teeth, knowing dark eyes—and doesn’t ask what you mean.

But of course, when you swim up from the inky currents of sleep you are in none of these places. You are curled up on the floor of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio, cheap worn black carpet peppered with stars and swirls in neon green, pink, blue. You stretch out with a yawn. Someone has left a Lemon Tea Snapple within reach; you twist it open and guzzle it, hoping to extinguish the pounding in your skull, a rhythmic thudding of warm maroon, half Captain Morgan and half misery. The music isn’t helping. From the green Toshiba CD player, a man is singing in Spanish. Aegon and Rio are sitting at the nearest table and playing Uno.

Aegon says as he ponders his cards: “You know Enrique Iglesias, right Rio?”

“You are so racist.” Rio puts down a wild. “And the new color is red. Racist.”

“So what’s he saying?”

“Aegon, buddy, I told you, I was born here. My grandparents came over in the 60s. I don’t speak Spanish.”

“You can’t understand any of it?” Aegon is skeptical. He plays a skip, a reverse, and a seven. “My dad never taught me a word of Greek but I can recognize plenty of phrases. Vlákas means idiot. Spatáli chórou is a waste of space.”

Rio sighs, relenting. He puts down a two. “The song is called Súbeme La Radio, Turn Up The Radio For Me. Bring me the alcohol that numbs the pain… I don’t care about anything anymore…You’ve left me in the shadows…”

“Damn, now I’m sad. Draw four, bitch.”

“When the night comes and you don’t answer, I swear to you I’ll stay waiting at your door…” Rio studies his cards. “What’s the new color?”

“Green.”

“Yes!” Rio slams down a skip. “Fleeing from the past in every dawn, I can’t find any way to erase our history…”

Everyone else is awake already. As muted late-morning daylight streams in through the small tinted windows, Aemond is weaving between tables, pointedly checking on each person. He glances at you, says nothing, turns around and walks the other way.

“That’s tough,” Rio says sympathetically, popping open the tab on a can of Chef Boyardee and shoveling ravioli into his mouth with a plastic fork.

Aegon gives you a smirk. “You want to fake date now?”

“I’ll think about it.” No you won’t.

Helaena appears, a prairie girl vision in a modest blue sundress and with her hair tied back with a matching scarf. She reaches into her burlap messenger bag and offers you a choice between a ranch-flavored tuna pouch or a silvery pack of Pop-Tarts. “Strawberry,” she tells you.

“I’ll take the Pop-Tarts.”

Helaena gives them to you and then shakes a bottle of Advil. You’re so groggy it takes you a few seconds to figure out what she wants, then you obediently hold out a hand. Helaena lays two tablets in the center of your palm and moves on, soundlessly like a rabbit or a spider.

You wash the pills down with Snapple. As you nibble half-heartedly on a Pop-Tart—trying not to look at Aemond, multicolored sprinkles falling down onto the carpet—your eyes drift to the tattoo on the underside of Aegon’s forearm. It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You’ve spotted it before. Only now do you remember where you recognize the lyric from. “Is that Green Day?”

“Yeah,” Aegon says, enthused that you noticed. “Letterbomb.”

“I love that whole album.”

“Me too. I could sing it front to back if you asked me to.”

“I’m not asking.”

Aegon cackles and resumes his Uno game with Rio. Baela is wearing denim shorts and a crop top, slathering her belly with Palmer’s cocoa butter from Walmart as she chats with Rhaena and eats Teddy Grahams. Daeron is waxing the string of his compound bow. Jace is gnawing on a Twizzler as he scrutinizes Aegon’s map, annotated with Xs and circles and arrows in sparkling gel pen green.

“I’m going to be a thousand years old by the time we get there,” Jace mutters.

Aegon hits the table with his fist. The discard pile collapses and cascades, an avalanche of Uno cards. Rio, undisturbed, continues contemplating his next move. “You know what, Jace? The cities are full of zombies, the interstates are blocked by fifty-car pileups, if we bump into anyone else who’s still alive they’re just as likely to rob and murder us as want to be friends, and on top of all that I’m trying to do you the favor of preventing you from getting so irradiated you turn into Spider-Man. If you have a better route in mind, I’d love to hear it.”

“Spider-Man…? You’re such a dumbass, what are you talking about?!”

Luke says from where he stands by a window: “Aemond, someone’s outside.”

“What?” Aemond stares at him. “Zombies?”

“No. People.”

Aemond bolts to the doors, the rest of you close behind him. Rhaena turns off the CD player. You, Rio, and Aegon squeeze together to peer out of one of the windows. There are men—three of them, no, four, all appearing to be in their forties—passing by on the main road through town. They are armed with what are either AR-15s or M16s, you can’t tell which.

Rio whistles. “If you get shot by one of those, the exit wound will be the size of an orange.” Everyone looks at him. This was not an encouraging thing to say.

You elaborate: “Thirty-round magazines. Semiautomatic, assuming they’re AR-15s for civilian use. I guess they could have gotten ahold of M16s somehow. Those have a fully automatic setting.”

“So regardless, we’re out-gunned,” Jace says.

“If they know how to use them. Some men think guns are wall decorations, like deer heads or fish.”

Aegon recoils. “Fish?! What the fuck. I’m glad the colonies left.”

“Maybe they’ll keep walking,” Daeron says hopefully. One of the men stops and points at the bowling alley, saying something to his companions. They laugh and begin crossing the small parking lot. They are less than two minutes from the door. “Oh, great…”

“There’s an emergency exit in the back,” Baela says.

Aegon snorts. “Yeah, that we stacked about twenty boxes of bowling pins in front of to zombie-proof.”

“We won’t be able to get out before they hear us,” Aemond says. Then he abruptly orders: “Grab your guns, let’s go. Helaena, Baela, Rhaena, you’re staying here.” Aemond’s remaining eye—briefly, reluctantly—skates over you as Rio, Aegon, Jace, Luke, and Daeron scatter to obey him. “You too.”

“But I’m the best shot.”

“I don’t want them to know we have women with us.”

“I’m of more use to you outside.”

Aemond rips his Glock out of its holster, pointing it at the floor. His frustration is palpable, an electric shock, heat that refracts light rays until they become mirages on the horizon. “You’re going to stay here, and if a stranger comes through those doors you’re going to kill them. Okay?”

His urgency stuns you; his eye is blue-white summer storm lightning. “Okay.”

“Now get back.”

You soar to the nearest table, duck under it, reach for your Beretta M9 and double-check the clip, fully loaded. You click off the safety.

“Aemond, wait, let me go first,” Aegon is saying by the door. “I’m better at de-escalation, I’m less…uh…intimidating.”

“Less socially incompetent, you mean,” Jace quips.

“I’ll lead,” Aemond insists. “Aegon can talk. Rio, you’re up front with me.”

Rio pumps his Remington 12 gauge. “I’d be delighted.”

Jace is amused. “I’ve been demoted, huh?”

“He’s bigger,” Aemond replies simply, then opens the door and vanishes through a blinding curtain of daylight. The others follow closely; Daeron, the last one out—his compound bow in hand, the strap of his Marlin .22 slung over his shoulder—shuts the door behind him.

Very faintly, you can hear Aegon: “Hey, guys! What’s happening? How’s the apocalypse treating you…?”

Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are under the table with you. They deserve to have options. You tell them: “If you want to go hide behind the lanes or try to get out the back door, now’s your chance.”

Helaena shakes her head, clutching your t-shirt: black, Star Wars, pawed off a shelf at the Walmart. “I want to stay with you.”

“Same,” Baela says determinedly, gripping her Ruger. She barely knows how to use it, but she’ll try. Rhaena is shaking, her eyes filling up her face, small fragile bones like a bird’s.

You can’t hear voices from outside anymore, but there are no gunshots either. You keep your M9 aimed at the doors, your breathing slow and deep, your heart rate low. Your hands are steady. Your eyes hunt for the slightest movement, for the momentary shadow of someone passing by a window. Against your will, your thoughts wander to Aemond. I hope Aegon is on his left side. Aemond can’t see there.

“Rhaena, get your gun out,” Baela says sharply. “Come on. Turn the safety off. What if you were alone right now? What if we weren’t here to protect you?”

Rhaena nods, fumbling to free her revolver from its holster. “I’m sorry…I’m trying…”

Now there is a stranger’s voice, gruff and deep. He must be just beyond the door, the farthest one to the right. There is a creak of hinges, a sliver of sunlight. “That’s just too damn bad, fellas. You got a nice little hideout here, and you’re gonna have to share it—”

The door opens. Two unfamiliar faces, too shellshocked to raise their rifles in time. You close an eye, line up your sights, fire twice, and that’s all it takes: one headshot, one in the throat, blood like a fountain, spurting scarlet ruin, thuds against the carpet strewn with neon stars, gurgling and spasms as their brains send out those final electrical impulses: danger, catastrophe, apocalypse. Rhaena is screaming. Helaena is covering her ears with both hands.

You run to the doorway; there are more booms of gunfire out in the parking lot. You cross into the late-morning light to see the other two men on the pavement: one with an arrow through the eye, the other with a gaping, hemorrhaging hole where his heart once was. Rio is admiring his work, holding his shotgun aloft. He scoops a handful of Cheddar Whales out of his shorts pocket and shovels them into his mouth.

“Goddamn, I love Remington Arms Company.”

“Oh, that was awesome,” Aegon says, wan and panting, hands on his waist. “Yeah, that was…that was…” He bends over and vomits Snapple and Cool Ranch Doritos onto the asphalt.

“Everyone okay in there?” Rio asks you.

“Yeah.” Behind you, Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are stepping through the doorway. Your thoughts are whirling sickly: I killed someone. I killed someone. “They wouldn’t leave?”

“We told them the bowling alley was ours,” Aemond says, not looking at you. “We asked them very politely to keep moving. They chose to try to intimidate us into letting them stay. They weren’t good people, and these are the consequences.”

You click on the safety and re-holster your M9. You’re wearing Rio’s on your other hip. They seem to weigh so much more than they did ten minutes ago. I’m not supposed to be a killer. I’m a builder.

“Aegon, are you okay?” Daeron asks, a palm on his brother’s back.

Aegon retches again. “Shut up. You can’t even buy fireworks.”

“Zombies.” Luke is peering through his binoculars. “Not many, just two. Way up the road.”

“There will be more.” Baela’s cradling her belly; you don’t even think she’s aware of it. “They heard the gunshots, the sound carries for miles.”

“We’re leaving,” Aemond says. “Right now. Everyone get your things.”

As backpacks are hastily zipped and Daeron and Aegon stand guard in the parking lot, you kneel down beside the men you murdered and check their rifles. They are M16s, either stolen or illegally purchased: there’s a little switch by the trigger to choose between semi-automatic or the so-called machine gun mode.

“They barely had any bullets left,” you tell Rio. Just like us when we were trapped on that transmission tower.

“Yeah, same story for the other two guys. Four bullets in one magazine, a half dozen in the other. But it only takes once. We don’t have any ammo that will work with M16s, do we?”

“No, we definitely don’t.”

“Fantastic. Well, we’ll throw them in a Walmart cart and take them with us just in case.”

You’re staring down at the man you shot through the head. His eternal resting place is a puddle of blood and brains in a bowling alley in rural Ohio; surely no one deserves that. “He was a real person,” you say, dazed. “Not a zombie. Just a person.”

“Hey.” Rio grabs your shoulders and spins you towards him. From where he is helping Luke gather up the remaining food, Aemond’s head snaps up to watch. “You hurt him before he could hurt us. You did the right thing.”

“Sure.”

“I killed a dude too. I blew his heart right out of his chest. You think I’m going to hell for that?”

“No,” you admit, smiling. “And if you’d be there with me, I guess I wouldn’t mind so much.”

Rio grins, wide and toothy. “Well alright then. Let’s finish packing.”

The ten of you depart from Shenandoah, Ohio heading northwest on Route 603 just like Aegon marked on his map, Jace chauffeuring Baela in one shopping cart, Rio pushing another loaded high with food and M16s.

“It looks like rain,” Helaena says.

Everyone else peers up into a clear, cerulean sky, wondering what she means.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re a few miles north of Shiloh when the storm rolls in, cold rain and furious wind, daylight that vanishes behind dark churning thunderheads, jagged scars of lightning in an opaque sky. The road is only two lanes, surrounded by fields of wildflowers and ravaged crops and untilled earth; it would look like the patchwork of a quilt if you were gazing down from an airplane, but of course the FAA grounded all flights over a month ago when the world went mad: Revelations, Ragnarök, the fabric of the universe unweaving as death burned through families, cities, nations like a fever, like plague.

“Maybe we should cut across one of these fields,” Jace says, pointing. He is soaked with rain; it drips from his curls, runs into his eyes. Baela is in her cart again; each time she tries to get out and walk, she’s gasping and can’t keep up within half an hour. You’ve all taken turns pushing her, much to Baela’s dismay. She’d be humiliated if she wasn’t too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

“Here, let me do it,” you offer, and Jace gratefully relinquishes the cart. Baela gives you a frail wave of appreciation.

“We stay on the road,” Aemond insists, flinching as rain pelts his scarred face. “Farmhouses have driveways and mailboxes, we’ll pass one eventually. If we lose the road, we might not be able to find it again. We’ll end up wandering around in circles in the woods.”

“Just like the Blair Witch Project,” Aegon says glumly, his Sperry Bahama sneakers audibly soggy.

“There!” Luke announces, spotting something with his binoculars. “Up ahead on the left. Past the bridge.”

You can’t see what Luke does until there is an especially brilliant flash of lightning: a farmhouse, old but seemingly not derelict, and with a number of accompanying buildings, guest houses and stables and barns and towering silos.

“Home sweet home!” Rio says. “And I don’t care if I have to kill a hundred of those undead bastards to get in, it’s mine.”

“Well, hopefully not a hundred,” you reply, in better spirits now that a sanctuary has been found. Aemond keeps glancing back at you as you push Baela’s cart. If he wants to say something, he’s doing a good job of resisting the temptation. “We don’t have that much ammo.”

There is a concrete bridge over a river, probably unremarkable and only five or ten feet deep normally but now torrential with rain. Water rushes by beneath, a muddy incline on each side as the earth rises back up to meet the road. A reflective green sign proclaims that you are only two miles from Plymouth, which Aegon plans to skirt along the edges of. It’s a decent-sized town; he thinks you might be able to find a car to steal there, something with gas in the tank and keys on a hook just inside the house.

“I call the master bedroom,” Jace says craftily, rubbing his palms together. You’re near the center of the bridge now, another ten yards to go. “Nice big bed, warm cozy blankets, and I was up for half of last night keeping watch so tonight I am off duty, I am a free man, it’s going to just be me and my girl and eight glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep—”

Rhaena shrieks, and then you hear it over the noise of the storm, pounding rain and rumbling thunder: moans, growls, hisses like snakes. Not one zombie. A lot more than one. They’re crawling up from under the bridge, from the filthy quagmire at both ends. There was a hoard of them waiting, aimless, dormant, almost hibernating. But now they are awake. They are grasping for you with bony, dirt-covered claws. They are snapping with jaws that leak blood and pus and bile as their organs curdle to a putrid soup.

“Get off the bridge!” Aemond is shouting. He has his Glock in his right hand, a baseball bat in his left. He’ll shoot until he’s out of bullets, and then, and then…

Rio helps you get Baela out of the cart, then opens fire. His Remington doesn’t just pierce skulls, it vaporizes them. When he’s out of shells—there are more in his backpack, but no time to reload—he yanks the M16s out of the other Walmart cart and empties each of them, mowing down zombies as the rest of you scramble across the bridge. All around you are explosions of gunshots, thunder, lightning, zombie skulls crushed by bullets and blunt force trauma. Baela is firing her Ruger as you half-drag her, one arm hooked beneath hers and around her back. When the last M16 is empty, Rio starts clubbing zombies with the butt of it. You’ve all reached the north side of the bridge, except…

“Fuck off, you freaks!” Jace is screaming. They’ve backed him up against the guardrail, a swarm of ten or more. His Remington shotgun is out of ammo; he’s swinging it wildly, but he doesn’t even have enough room to maneuver. There are still more zombies emerging from under the bridge. You can hear them snarling and groaning. You swipe an M9 off your belt and put a bullet in the brain of a zombie as its fingers close around your ankle, then you start picking off the ones mobbing Jace. You aren’t fast enough. As they lean in to bite him, teeth gnashing at the delicious throbbing heat of his jugular, Jace throws himself over the barrier and into the surging water below.

“No!” Baela cries. She careens off the road and into the field, running parallel to the river as swiftly as she can. You are helping her, steadying her, firing at any zombies you have a clear line of sight on. The others are here too: slipping in the muck of the flooding earth, shouting for Jace. He surfaces through the frothing current, flails pitifully, disappears beneath the water again. You glimpse a white hand, a shadow of his dark hair, a kicking shoe. There are more zombies on the opposite side of the river, trailing after Jace, lurching and slobbering viscous, gory saliva. They cannot swim, but they can follow him until he washes ashore.

Jace bursts up through the waves, gasping. “Help! Aemond…Aemond, for the love of God, help me…” He blubbers and then is dragged under. Aemond and Luke are continuing frantically after him. Baela is hysterical, sobbing, trembling with adrenaline. Aegon is yowling as he swings at zombies with his bloodied golf club. Helaena is darting around almost invisibly, always cowering behind Daeron or Aegon or Rio.

You glance north towards the farmhouse, growing not closer but farther away. We can’t leave shelter. We can’t leave the road. You lock eyes with Rio. He’s thinking the same thing.

“Aemond, we have to go,” Rio says, but in the midst of the rain and the turmoil it barely registers.

“Jace, we’re coming to get you!” Aemond swears. The ground is increasingly sodden, deep, difficult to trudge through. Jace resurfaces, coughing and sputtering.

“Jace!” Aegon wails. He caves in the skull of a zombie who was once a registered nurse as Helaena crouches behind him. “Jace, I’m sorry! I’m gonna miss you, man!”

Jace splashes in the rising river, his arms flailing helplessly. He is being swept away far faster than any of you can move on foot. “Aegon, you dumb bitch!” Jace manages, then slips beneath the water and doesn’t reappear.

“Where is he?!” Baela is saying. “Aemond, where…?”

You are trying to soothe her, to bring her back to reality. She was always so pragmatic before; you have to wake her up. “Baela, listen, we can’t stay here, he would want you and the baby to be safe—”

“Aemond! Aemond, we have to go!” Rio catches him, wrenches him around, roars into his face as driving rain pummels them both: “We have to go, or we’re going to die here too!”

It hits Aemond all at once; he understands, horror and agony in his sole blue eye. “We have to go,” he agrees. And then louder, to everyone: “Get to the farmhouse!”

Baela collapses into the mud, howling, tears flooding down her face. “No, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, we can’t leave him!”

You and Rhaena are trying to haul Baela to her feet. Now Aemond is here, pulling you away from her—his fingers tight and urgent around your wrist—as he and Luke take your place. “Go,” he commands. “You run. Don’t wait for us. Rio?”

“I got her,” Rio replies, grabbing your free hand with an iron grip. Gales of wind rip at you; every millimeter of your skin is soaked with rain. As you flee across the fields towards the farmhouse, dozens of zombies pursue you. More are still staggering along the banks of the river, swept up in the hoards chasing Jace and the promise of his waterlogged corpse when it reaches its final destination. Daeron has run out of arrows and is shooting with his .22, which is very much not his preference. Aegon trips, getting covered in mud as he rolls, and Rio stops to help him. While he is distracted, you look back at Aemond. He, Luke, and Baela are moving quickly, but not quickly enough. A drove of zombies is closing in on them. You have a spare few seconds at last. You yank your backpack off, grab a box of ammo inside, and reload your M9.

“Chips?!” Rio calls over his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

He knows you well enough to listen. The world goes quiet as your finger settles on the trigger. There’s a rhythm one slips into, an impassionate lethal efficiency. It’s easier to keep going than to stop and have to find it again. You fire over and over, dropping eight zombies. You sheath your M9 and whip Rio’s out of your other holster, the sights finding grotesque decaying faces illuminated by lightning. You pull the trigger: blood, bones, brains, corpses jerking and convulsing as they fall harmlessly to the mud. Aemond is here; when did he get here?

“I told you to run!” he’s shouting through the storm, furious. He’s shoving you towards the farmhouse. You resist him.

“Let me kill as many as I can—”

“Go! Now!” Aemond orders over the clashing thunder, and then sprints with you all the way to the front porch to make sure you listen. Everyone else is already there. Helaena has fetched a spare key from under the doormat and is turning it in the lock.

Daeron observes her anxiously. “We don’t know if it’s safe in there, Helaena.”

“Not in,” she says, insistent. “Through.” Through this building, and maybe through the next one too. The average zombie is not terribly clever. If they lose sight of you, without the benefit of the momentum of a hoard they are lost. Helaena opens the door. The living rush inside, and she locks it behind you. As you are bursting out the back door, you can hear zombies pounding their rotting palms against the front one. You soar through a stable full of dead horses and donkeys, leaving the doors open; this should keep the zombies distracted if they make it this far. Then you race to the farthest guest house. Luke, swiveling with his binoculars, spies no zombies approaching as you steal inside. There is no spare key this time; Rio punches out a first-floor window for you to climb through. Once everyone is inside, he and Aegon move a bookshelf to cover the opening.

You all stand in the living room, gasping and shivering, dripping rain down onto the rug and the hardwood floor. The air is dusty but clean of any trace of vile, swampy decay. Outside, thunder booms and lightning flashes bright enough to illuminate the lightless house. The sky is so dark it might as well be nightfall. Baela sinks to her knees, clamping both hands over her mouth so she won’t sob loudly enough for a zombie to hear. Rhaena and Luke are beside her, both weeping quiet rivulets of tears, trying to comfort her in whispers. Helaena is rummaging around searching for candles; she has already taken a lighter out of her soaked burlap messenger bag.

“Daeron, bro, come over here,” Aegon chokes out. He embraces Daeron, clutches him tightly and desperately, doesn’t let go. Rio is reloading his Remington 12 gauge.

Jace is dead. Jace is dead.

Aemond says to you, his voice low but seething: “What the fuck was that?”

You blink the raindrops out of your eyes as you stare at him, bewildered. “You needed help.”

“I told you to run.”

“I’m an asset, I have skills that can keep you alive, why am I here if I’m not going to be useful—?”

“You’re not in the fucking Navy anymore!” he hisses. “When I tell you to run, you run, you don’t stop, you don’t look back, because I can’t worry about you and take care of everyone else.”

“Nobody asked you to worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“Aemond,” Aegon pleads, waving him over. Aegon’s plump sunburned cheeks are glistening with rain and tears. “Man, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters now. Please come here.”

“I’m going to clear the house,” Aemond says instead.

Rio raises an eyebrow at you—this is one fucked up guy, Chips—and then pumps his shotgun. “Me too.” He sweeps with Aemond through the main floor and then vanishes up the staircase.

Helaena is lightning candles she found in the kitchen and arranging them around the living room. Daeron starts gathering food from the pantry. Rhaena and Baela are murmuring to each other softly, mournfully. It doesn’t feel like something you should intrude on. Luke is peeking out of a window with his binoculars, vigilant for threats. Aegon sniffles, wanders over to you with large, sad, shimmering eyes, pats your shoulder awkwardly.

“Hey, Chocolate Chip. You doing okay?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

“Yeah. Me either.” Then he flops down on the hideous burnt orange couch and lies there motionless until Daeron brings him a can of Dr. Pepper. Aegon pops the tab, slurps up foam, and then begins singing to himself very quietly, a song so old you can remember your grandfather saying it was one of his favorites as a boy: A Tombstone Every Mile.

When Rio comes back downstairs—heavy footsteps, he can’t help that—you meet him at the bottom of the steps. “The house is good,” Rio says. “And Aemond’s in the big bedroom on the right if you’d like to go up there and talk to him.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”

“I could not disagree more,” Rio says with a miserable, exhausted smile. Then he goes to the couch to check on Aegon.

You pick up one of the flickering candles, white and scentless, and ascend the staircase. You find Aemond in the master bedroom, the same accommodations that Jace laid claim to when he was still alive. He is sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at the wall, at nothing. Tentatively, you sit down beside him, placing the candle on the nightstand.

“Aemond…what happened to Jace…it wasn’t your fault.”

“Criston said I was in charge, that’s the very last thing he told me. They might be the last words I ever hear from him, and I just…” His voice breaks; he wipes the rain and tears from his face with open palms. “I really wanted to get everyone home.”

“I’m so sorry about what I said at the bowling alley,” you confess, like it’s a dire secret. “I don’t want to fight with you, Aemond, I…I want to help you. I can see what you’ve done for everyone here, me and Rio included, and I believe in you. I want to be a part of this.”

He nods, an acceptance of peace, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Can we start over? I’ll never bring it up again, okay? I wasn’t trying to guilt you or upset you or anything. I should have just dropped it. I overreacted. And I understand why being with someone like me maybe wouldn’t be…super appealing.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what’s it about?”

Aemond wrings his hands, shakes his head, at last turns to you, golden candlelight reflected in his eye, his scar cloaked in shadows. His words are hushed, clandestine, soft powerless surrender. “I’m already so afraid of losing you.”

He cares, he hopes, he wants me too? “I’m here right now, Aemond. I don’t know what else I can say. I’d promise you more if I could.”

He reaches out to touch you, to ghost his thumb across your cheekbone, wet with rain. Then he kisses you, so gently you cannot help but imagine the wispy borders of calm white summer clouds, the rustle of leaves as wind blows down the Appalachian Mountains. You don’t have to ask him what he’s thinking, what it feels like. You can read it in the startled, firelit wonder on his face.

You taste like the beginning of something, here at the end of the world.

[totaly-obsessed]

Could you maybe do a part two to Muffin top?

Berry Cute

Alessia Russo x reader Drabble & Request

-> Muffin Top pt.2

-> Reader finally gets the nerve to ask Lessi out

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

As much as it pained Viv, she listened to her friends and girlfriend – leaving you to figure it out yourself. The Dutch could appreciate that your cute character and straightforwardness were appealing to her fellow striker but could not help but feel bad, seeing you stumble over your words again and again.

Some of the Arsenal girls were meeting up for a bake night at their captain's house, making all kinds of different treats. While a hoard of chaotic girls certainly wasn’t the calm evening atmosphere Kim usually had, she wouldn’t change it for the world.

Currently, you were making one of your favorite pastries from back home – rosinenbrötchen. But seeing as the word ‘brötchen’ was too difficult for most of the team to pronounce you had settled on a bread form, so you were making raisin bread instead, and it was already in the oven.

Alessia and Laura were meanwhile attempting to make a pizza, but with Laura’s endless laughing and Alessia’s clumsy nature, it wasn’t going so well. As badly as you wanted to help, every single approach you had made – failed. Alessia knew what you wanted with your hints, but she tried to get you to use your words.

In more ways than one.

In the end, it was Katie who couldn’t take it anymore. While she had been all in for the teasing, seeing you look like a kicked puppy was too much. Strong hands pushed you in the middle of Alessia and Laura who still hadn’t pulled it together, laughing their asses off. “Right, this is your helper Less. Laura and I’ll continue over there.”

With a big grin, the striker pulled you by your arm to her self-appointed workstation. Jazz Hands, accompanied by a little ‘Ta-da!’ showed you her pizza. If you could call it that. “Less did you use dried yeast Or any yeast?”

Big blue eyes looked at you before she put on an innocent façade and shrugged her broad shoulders. “I don’t know?” Upon further inspection, you could make out that the pair had completely forgotten the yeast at all. “God Less, you are a terrible Italian.”

So you got to work, starting over all together. The blonde had given up on helping and opted to stand behind you, wrapping her arms around your middle, and pulling you as close to her as possible. It was amusing how shaky your hands suddenly were and how your sentences started to be a little confused.

Alessia made you nervous, and she knew it – she loved it. Seeing your face go completely red after whispering a sweet compliment into your ea. Hearing your shaky exhale when her fingers massage your hips. Smelling your favorite perfume, which had by now become her favorite drug. Feeling your soft hair tickle her chin, as she rested her head on yours. The striker loved it.

“Hey, I’m only half Italian.”

With more teasing you finished making the Pizza, leaving Alessia to the toppings while you went back to your raisin bread.

You didn’t know what came over you, but with sudden motivation you turned, invading Alessia's space, cornering her against the kitchen aisle. “Hey Less, Do you like raisins?” The blonde couldn’t help but smile, enamored by your charm. “I love raisins, baby.” You pulled your hand out from behind your back with a terrible tremble, nearly dropping it, a fist formed as you extended it to your crush who hesitantly held out an open palm. “How do you feel about a date?” A soft, deep purple date landed in Alessia’s hand when she started giggling. “Dates are not my favorite fruit, my love.”

Your mouth was wide open. Did she not understand? I mean, you asked her on a date, that was obvious.

Right?

Your stunned silence made her laugh even more, leaning on your shoulder to keep herself steady. “Less- I asked if you wanted to, wanted to uhmm, go on a date with me?”

From the corner of her eye, the taller girl could see a gathered crown of Katie, Beth, Kyra, and Laura who were currently getting the best soap opera of their life. “I know baby.” When your eyes started to tear up and the kicked-puppy look came back, she couldn’t take her own teasing anymore, “And I would love to go on a date with you!”

Breathing felt refreshing after the silence you endured. Cheering made you look towards your teammates who started clapping and chanting.

“Hey baby you know what?” Gentle fingers gripped your jaw, turning your face back towards her own. “I think you are berry cute.” Now it was your turn to laugh, loving her cheesy pick-up line as a response to your own.

“Oh my god. One worse than the other.”

[kevinationnto]

"Kevin, who or what inspired Eggbert?"

Explanation:

1. SpongeBob- inspired Eggbert's attitude most of the time. Eggbert is generally an optimistic egg, and doesn't let life's troubles get him down. When he entered the Digital Circus, he tried to make the best of his stay, although he still had a hard time adjusting.

2. Dr. John Watson- inspired Eggbert's costume and "sidekick" side. Just as Dr. Watson is Sherlock Holmes' partner, Eggbert behaves more like a sidekick and helper to the hero of anyone's story.

3. Red Guy- inspired Eggbert's desire to figure out what exactly is going on in the Digital Circus. Just like Red Guy eventually found out about that control panel monitoring Yellow Guy, Eggbert does want to know if Caine is hiding something and if the exit door really does exist, although he's not as crazed as Pomni or Kaufmo or anyone else who abstracted.

4. Quasimodo- My favorite Disney character, he inspired how Eggbert would act to defend his friends. If Jax bullies Gangle, Ragatha, Zooble or Pomni, Eggbert would stand up to him, just as Quasimodo stood up for Esmeralda and Phoebus.

5. John Adams- The hero of my favorite musical, 1776. He inspired Eggbert's determination to keep going. In the musical, John Adams fought relentlessly for the idea of American independence. When asked what was the main takeaway from TADC, @gooseworx replied, "That there's meaning to be found in a stagnant life." Eggbert knows that, and for him, the meaning is, "Keep going, don't give up yet" just like Adams. So, it's unlikely Eggbert will abstract, because of his will to go on living in the Digital Circus and not go crazy over the exit door.

6. Humpty Dumpty- Specifically from Through the Looking-Glass and what Alice found there, he inspired Eggbert's... well, "eggness." Before I made Eggbert a full-time TADC OC, I first put him in the Wonderland AU, created by @endomentendo. In the book, Humpty Dumpty helps Alice understand what the words in "Jabberwocky" mean, and, in this AU, he helps Pomni in her quest to defeat the Red Rulers.

"Mad World" by Tears for Fears also inspired what Eggbert would think as his stay in the Digital Circus goes on. He'd think it's a mad digital world, but would accept it and go on living instead of going crazy over the exit.

[p5-apotelesma]

Opinions on Maruki? (I like him very very much, fav video game villain ever)

i like him!!!! i like him a ton. also one of my favorite antagonists of all time... if joker has a helper complex then maruki is the one with the Actual Martyr complex and im constantly eating up and parallels between the two of them. and what marukis actions and his goals give us. comparing them to those of the phantom thieves. If Im Making Any Sense. The Parallels (tm) (i am tired)

the phantom thieves not trusting adults to Change and Be Better People of their own free will. and their major targets are in positions of power so. of course the fuckers arent gonna. and the Gang is out to change society for the better (even if their methods are. Ethically Questionable)

and Maruki is the same in his methods, by all technicalities. not believing people are Strong Enough to Overcome their own pain. (That they shouldnt even have to. because HE CANT) so hes just gonna grant people's wishes. even if those wishes KEEP PEOPLE FROM GROWING.

like. man. i remember specifically like. playing through third sem for the first time and listening to npcs and one concerned girl was asking another if she got back together with her boyfriend. "what if he hurts you again?" she asks. and the other girl responds "what are you talking about? he'd never hurt me. we're happy together"

like. what the fresh fuck. hell world. hell world. hell wo

augh. aaauuhhghghhh theres a lot more i can say about him. i love his character i love his motives i love his tragedy i love him hes so fucking (clenches my fists and flails around) but because hes not a Major Blorbo of mine its a case of harder thinking in order to gather and organizing my thoughts.,.,

ill prolly talk more about him sometime in the future :)

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Them finding you asleep in public

characters: Fu Xuan / Herta / Himeko / Kafka / March 7th / Natasha / Pela / Qingque / Serval / Tingyun x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none

a/n: The urge to write a lot more than 1 or 2 paragraphs for some characters was really strong, but I managed it because I am a man of dedication, focus and sheer will… 

that and because I knew this would take far too long if I didn’t contain myself.

Also, there are some characters I still don’t know too much about, so if I got something wrong about their personalities, then I’m sorry

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Fu Xuan

Did you have no idea how stupid you looked while sleeping like this in public? If anyone else found you like this, they’d take you for a lazy bum with no shame, but luckily for you, Fu Xuan knew you well enough to know that at least the first part would be a misconception. Nevertheless you looked stupid. Stupid and a little bit cute. So stupid and a little bit cute in fact that she couldn’t stop herself from pulling out her phone and snapping a picture of you, only for the flash she forgot to turn off to wake you up, causing you to slowly look up at her while rubbing your eyes, in turn causing the Master Diviners face to heat up.

“D-Don’t fall asleep during working hours! …what am I going to do with you..?”

Herta

Sleeping people normally were none of Herta’s concern, they were neither interesting to study, nor entertaining enough to waste her precious time on them. But considering how much of a help you were with her research, it would have been rude not to spare you from the embarrassment of being seen like this by a whole lot of other people. It also helped that she was just about to start an experiment and needed a suitable guinea pig helper.

“Wakey-Wakey. How terrible to be bored enough to fall asleep even though you’re living on my space station. Lucky you! I have just the job for you”

Himeko

Himeko was a researcher first and foremost and one of the most important tasks of any respectable researcher was to observe. It was the first step towards putting together a scientific theory and thus something she was all too familiar with. So whenever she found you sound asleep on one of the astral express’ couches, she did what she did best: observe. Was it with a cup of coffee in hand or some random book she got her hands on.For whatever reason watching you sleep put her mind at ease, like watching one of those cat videos March liked to show around to the rest of the crew. To varying degrees of excitement.

“Theory: the couch is even more comfortable when tired”, Himeko stated to herself before pressing her hand against the couch, feeling it before letting out a small yawn, covering her mouth with her free hand before nodding to herself. “Theory seems possible. I’ll need to test it more often”, she spoke while slowly putting her head on the cushions, tiredness, no matter how much coffee she drank, rolling over Himeko, only for her to quickly nod off herself, her head not far from your own.

Kafka

Truth be told, Kafka would have preferred you were awake. There weren’t many things one could do with a sleeping person, but as waking you up was out of the question, other ideas quickly began swirling through her mind, until finally, her brain decided on one.

Putting on one of her favorite lipsticks, she gave you a quick peck on the cheek, making sure to leave an imprint of her lips, only to find herself unsatisfied with the results. If you were lucky you’d notice it once you went to the bathroom in the morning, by which time you would have already passed the rest of your crewmates, and while she doubted that they’d have any reaction to it, one imprint would have certainly been enough to make you embarrassed about it.

That being said, adding one or two more couldn’t hurt.

March 7th

Seeing you sleeping in such a public place like the parlor of the astral express wasn’t something March got to see every day and while the urge to take a picture of you with her camera was compelling, she knew that there had to be made preparations beforehand. Before long, March pulled out a marker before carefully drawing a silly mustache and monocle on your face, making sure not to wake you up in the process. You were probably going to figure out the culprit relatively quickly once you looked in the mirror, but as long as she got a silly photo, March didn’t really care.

And a silly photo she got.

Natasha

You were always trying your best to keep whatever child was currently bedbound inside her clinic entertained, never leaving their side until they had long fallen asleep. And while Natasha appreciated it, the sight of you and the children causing her heart to melt each time, you fell asleep while leaned against the bed more than once.

In such moments Natasha would have loved to carry you to bed, the floor being a lot colder than a blanket, but that would only wake you from your dreams, something she didn’t want to be responsible for after seeing you take such good care of others. And so all she was able to do was cover you with a blanket of your own before making a mental note to repay you the following day

Pela

While you always indulged Pela in her hobbies, her requests of painting a picture of you always fell on deaf ears, you always finding a reason or excuse for her not to, too embarrassed by the idea of being painted. So finding you asleep like this was like a godsent. Locking the room to make sure you didn’t slip away before she got her notebook and pens from her room, Pela made sure to return quickly before beginning while you were still asleep.

After all, what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

Qingque

While she had been sent to find you by Fu Xuan herself, you having reportedly been sent to get something from the abandoned storage, only to not return, her boss ought to have thought twice before picking Qingque for the task of retrieving you. So when she eventually found you, having nodded off on an old couch in one of the corners of the building, the prolific slacker couldn’t help but notice how comfortable it looked. And while many would have felt ashamed for even thinking about sitting down next to you and closing their eyes for five minutes while on work, Qingque had no such inhibitions.

It didn’t sound like Fu Xuan needed you that urgently, so it wasn’t like she was going to get fired for this… probably.

Serval

When Serval found you slumped over one of the desks in her workshop, passed out from what seemed to be exhaustion as the mechanism you had tried solving these past couple of days lay next to you, not much closer to completion than it seemed yesterday, she couldn’t help but smile at your dedication to the craft, or so was the reason she would have given if she wasn’t having difficulties retaining her composure at the sight of your sleeping face

A part of her wanted to squeeze you till you popped, or at the very least displayed signs of doing so, finding what she saw in front of her as adorable as a puppy, yet she decided against as much as touching you. Neither wishing to wake you up nor to accidentally breaking one of your bones. She needed you in her audience after all.

Tingyun

If you had been Ying Juan, Tingyun’s next course of action would have been as clear as the sky on a sunny day. Snap a few pictures to sell to all kinds of Fangirls and make a quick buck. But considering you weren’t anywhere as popular and she had her qualms about the idea of anyone else getting to see you sleeping this peacefully, her conscience beat out the businesswoman inside of her.

That being said, just because she wasn’t going to let anyone else see you like this, didn’t mean she was going to let this opportunity for a nice photo slip, pulling out her phone as taking a picture in one swoop before putting it back and once again walking out of the room, making sure to close the door behind her.

[ducktoonsfanart]

Happy 90th Birthday Donald Duck! - Donald Duck and his family and friends - Tribute to Don Rosa (Happy belated birthday to Don Rosa) - The Duck Who Never Was - My redraw - Duck comics - Duckverse

I know it's past Donald's birthday, but I don't care, because this year is a whole year dedicated to him, because this year the most popular duck is celebrating his 90th birthday this year. So if someone tells me why I'm dedicating his birthday to him now, even though it's passed, please shut up, this is definitely dedicated to the best duck in the world and I have the right to draw related to him. By the way, I drew tributes related to his birthday before, so check out my previous drawings.

By the way, even though his birthday passed a month ago, I definitely wanted to dedicate this drawing to one of my favorite comic artists and writers, Don Rosa, who celebrates his birthday on June 29th because he was born on that date in 1951. Don Rosa wrote and drew comics mostly related to Scrooge McDuck, but also dedicated something related to Donald Duck. A special comic is "The Duck Who Never Was" from June 9, 1994, which is dedicated to the 60th birthday of Donald Duck, where Donald thinks that everyone has forgotten about his birthday, so he miraculously went to another universe where he does not exist and it can be said that it doesn't work at all without it. In the end, Donald returns to his world and is surprised that his beloved family and friends threw him a great birthday party. It's one of my favorite Don Rosa comics.

Yes, I drew as a redraw those final scenes from that comic, so I drew it in my own way, and I apologize to Don Rosa, since I added some characters, and also did some of my own version of characters from the Duckverse. Daisy kisses her Donald, and besides them there are also Donald's nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck, Daisy's nieces April, May and June Duck (Dutch version), Donald's uncle Scrooge McDuck, Donald's grandmother Grandma Duck (Elvira Coot), Donald's cousins ​​Gladstone Gander, Gus Goose, Fethry Duck, Donald's best friends Gyro Gearloose, Little Helper, Jose Carioca (José Zé Carioca) and Panchito Pistoles. Yes, added Fethry and the two caballeros because they somehow don't make a real Donald family without them in my opinion. And instead of the 60th birthday, I added Donald Duck's 90th birthday on the banner held by Donald's nephews and Daisy's nieces. Yes, and the 30th anniversary of this comic. I hope you like this idea and this drawing and my remake of that comic, even though I know it's against the Don Rosa rules. Sorry.

I hope you like this drawing and this idea and feel free to like and reblog this if you like it, just don't use these same ideas of mine without mentioning me! Thank you! Also, here's a happy 90th birthday to Donald Duck (who celebrates on June 9th) and a happy birthday to Don Rosa (who celebrates on June 29th) and the beginning of summer, which is celebrated on June 21st! Happy birthday to the best duck who deserves the best! :D And this is a gift for all of you who love this duck and his family!

[subukunojess]

"And on your left, you'll find the Giant Painted Bullfrog in its natural habitat." Trey narrated as he and Seafoam pushed a wagon full of Smiling Critters and other toys towards Doey. "The big fella has eaten a small, plain frog for lunch. Look how happy he is!"

"Ooooooh~!" The toys gasped in awe, a few pretending to click cameras while others tried drawing Doey for the pictures. 

Aiden crossed his arms and groaned while Matthew gasped in surprise and Kevin snorted, holding back laughter. Jack just croaked, grinning down at his friends. 

Title: Aiding A Pal

Chapter: 3 of 8 or 9

Chapter Title: Jack: A Big Helper

Fandom: Poppy Playtime

Characters in The Chapter: Doey, Pianosaurus, Aiden (OC), Yarnaby, Jack Ayers, Matthew Hallard, Kevin Barnes, Seafoam (OC), Trey (OC), Lila (OC), Pen (OC), Susan Ayers, George Ayers

Content Warning In The Chapter: Safe Soft Vore, Giant/Tiny, Violence mention/hinted, Panic Attack

Chapter Summary: Compelled to lead for a day, Jack controls Doey as he helps Aiden around in Safe Haven and has his fun, only for surprising secrets to unfold from the past.

After days of woe and my birthday, here is the next chapter I made for my "Aiding A Pal" fanfiction on Archive of Our Own which is Jack's main chapter! Right now, the fic is the most popular and I am riding it out on the excitement, so I invested in writing the chapter as soon as possible! At first, I thought Jack's chapter would be moderate while Matthew would be the hardest one to write for. I was wrong. I had trouble with Jack, but with the flower symbolism, I was able to produce something that I hope is substantial.

Thanks for inspiration @roseytoesy for the frog idea she had on one of her posts about Doey and I also got inspired by the other writer of the Doey fans @fiber-optic-alligator to have the boys go through a giant sequence just because and SYMBOLISM! Note that each chapter with the boys as the main focus will come out differently depending on personality and other factors.

I may or may not split the final chapter into two parts. Again, I'm very shocked people actually love it!

For the cover, I drew one of my favorite funny scenes that I wrote out. I hope you enjoy the chapter as much as I did writing it!

[roxy4life]

"૮₍ •⤙•˶|✉️ ᴮᵉᵉᵖ..! ᵒⁿᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˎˊ˗

₍ ⌨ ᶻᶻᶻ ⭐𝐑𝐨𝐱𝐲⭐ is typing ... ₎

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ t᥆ ꧑ᥡ bᥣ᥆g꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

Credits to @sister-lucifer for the Roxy x Thad dividers!

Hello! My names Roxy!

Friend list!

@deedah @kingryannducks @locothewolf @agentgeek @glorious-owl @l0cal-dumb4ss @zer0-devoox @justh4z3l-xdd and Many more!

My caregiver! : @autonomous-helper

DNI If! :Racist, P3d0, Z00, Transphobic, homophobic, pr0shipper, etc, please DNI!

Things I like!

Hello kity

TADC

Murder drones {my current hyperfixation! }

MHA (not as much now!)

Dandys world!

And many more!

Things about me!

I got by different names based on how I'm feeling!: Roxy, Dolly, thad(some times-) , Venus, pudding etc!

I'm age regressor!! (Please be nice I don't accept bullying)

I vent a lot... (If you don't like it please leave)

I love drawing, listening to music (A HUGE RANGE!)

I love animals!: cats, dogs (golden retrievers) , bunnies and seals!

I do art ask and commissions for free! (Just DM me!)

My age regression!

I'll talk baby like!, I'll most be with @autonomous-helper ! Or Thad!

I'll post art of my oc/ me age regressing with Thad!

My music taste!

I love, cute or soft music! Scene music! And a lot of Japanese! And many more!

ICP

Melanie Martinez!

Aqua

Toy-box and many more!

My favorite characters!

Thad! (MY 1# FAV!)

V, Uzi, N, and most of the murder drones characters!

Mr. Aizawa! And Yamada! (Along with Ayoma!)

Some random things!

I'm always going to change my sexuality a lot, but my gender identity is non-binary!

Some nicknames i like!

Dolly, Venus, Thad (here and there!) , pudding

Names for when i'm In little age!

Princess, sweetie, Puppy, kiddo, snuggle bug, and many more!

I have a YouTube channel but won't post much due to cap cut getting banned...

Here's another thing about my age regressing!

New YouTube channel! ↓

[sweettoothvn]

Could you tell us about the side characters more? Like some facts about them? I've noticed not many people ask about them.

ok so i just answered a couple asks about a few side characters so im just going to talk about the ones that i have not already talked about that will appear in the game. Cause there are like. 200 ish characters that Kit and i have collectively.

Brooklyn Young

Eddie and Becca's biological father and sort of Charlie and Liberty's

The owner of Tungsten Inc.

David, Chrys, and Baston work for him. Becca has her own office there too

He has "hallucinations" of a "wolf man"

He is a warlock, his powers being Rasum and Corpus

He met Callisto in college and has been INFATUATED with her ever since.

He is trying to recover from alcoholism.

He's greek and the main cook in the family

He grew up in Boston, Massachusetts and is easily the most foul-mouthed of the parents

Callisto Young (Crass)

Becca, Penny, Tenylia, Icran, Lorli, Braels, Charlie, and Liberty's biological mother

Used to be 5'6" in college but wow what a growth spurt she had, huh?

She owns Emporia, there is a location on the surface and in the Intrepid

She has a helper bot named CANDI

She created a robot named ROME for Brook. He bullies and teases Brook all the time.

She has two step brothers.

Her old line of work still haunts her

She has threatened Andre's uncle before

She used to be allergic to birds

One of her husbands and her are on thin ice at the moment

Kota "Diesel" Vorago

Ranked #1 at the Mercenaries' Guild in Corpus

Penny's biological father. Sort of Charlie and Liberty's

Related to Francis "Frank" Vorago

Used to be friends with the current Corpus Phonen

Seems to fluctuate between two different personalities

Insecure about his face

Eats Myrmiths (says they taste good?)

The reason why the 4 eldest have a bit of their ear missing

Not home most of the time due to his intensive job

Horrible cook really

Phelo Sova

The main Acolyte for the Rasum Phonen, Maris

Insecure about his heritage and family

Enjoys making tea

Enjoys human culture and anthropology

Exports expensive and rare honey to the house. Has to hide them from his children. They kEEP FINDING IT.

He misses his aunt

Was an infant when his siblings died

Helps Callisto at Emporia... and sometimes distracts her...

Thinks very highly of himself

Callisto is a huge fan of his father. He hates it.

Pacifist

Becca's favorite

Him and the leader of Veil have history

Penny

DJ's at the Wild Witch when Snake Eyes or other bands are not performing

Frenemies with Kieran

Enjoys Y2K fashion, glitter, and purple to the MAX

Quite mischievous and finds herself getting into trouble quite often

Friends with the band members of Animus

Typically pulls pranks on people, Kieran being a main target

Genesis is wary of her

has major imposter syndrome

Hates her dad

Can't understand WHAT she is

Tenylia

Has a massive crush on Andre

Enjoys fireworks and generally causing chaos

enjoys a bohemian style of fashion

very friendly and bubbly girl, albeit clumsy and sometimes awkward

Can be seen hanging out with Eddie and Chrys a lot, Chrys being her best friend

She likes strawberry cupcakes

Has a small old bullet wound scar on her upper shoulder (she doesn’t know how and her dad won’t tell her how she got it)

She’s one of the best dancers in the house and on any dancing game

She hates Noble for what he did to Becca

She introduced Chrys's new work partner to her

Becca

Believes she is smarter than her father

Has a small robot spider named Henry

Her apartment is untraceable and difficult to locate even by Tumult who has eyes everywhere

Fights with Eddie over who is the better cook

Gives information about Baston to Winnie in exchange for info about Noble

Met Noble at the Wild Witch

Despite her intelligence, it can be used against her easily due to her pride

Enjoys dark academia style clothing

She used to be a very happy kid, until there was a break in

Deduced to have onset Schizophrenia because she’s seeing and chastising a "wolf man" that isn’t there

She loves fireflies and they help calm her

Is ahead of David in seasons of the Golden Girls

[amethystarachnid]

Heyo/

Would it be okay to request something from the Marvel Holiday Special now? I know December is almost over but if it's okay, I'm interested by 12. Lost Holiday Spirit with a twist. It's the reader who lost their holiday spirit and it's the character who show her how to enjoy it?

I kind of stop enjoying Christmas around my 20's but I wish I would find the good side of it again. This year I had an even rougher Christmas week than previous years so it would been nice to have someone during that time to make me enjoy it again.

I don't know if you do multi paring or not. If you don't, then I'll say Sam Wilson, if you do, I'll say both Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. I'm being greedy but I need all the fluff I can get from that.

Thanks. ✒️

OPERATION RESTORE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

⤷ SAM T. WILSON & JAMES B. "BUCKY" BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: Sam T. Wilson x fem!reader x James B. "Bucky" Barnes

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.2k

ᯓ★ Summary: when Bucky and Sam discover your lost holiday spirit they decide to take it upon themselves to make you believe in Christmas magic again

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ I wrote this more on the comfort side with an open ending because from the ask I didn't understand if you meant the characters to form a relationship or not, so I thought an open ending was the best solution. I hope you like and it's never late to believe in Christmas' magic again <3

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Snowflakes drift lazily from the December sky, painting the world in a blanket of pristine white. You sit on the worn couch in Sam’s apartment, wrapped in a fleece blanket that Bucky insists makes you look like a burrito. The two of them are lounging nearby—Sam perched on the arm of a chair, gesturing dramatically as he argues with Bucky, who sits cross-legged on the floor with a scowl that could freeze boiling water.

The argument, as always, is about nothing and everything. Something about eggnog versus hot chocolate has spiraled into a discussion about who would win in a snowball fight.

“I’m just saying, your vibranium arm doesn’t give you a free pass to cheat,” Sam says, waving a hand.

“It’s not cheating, Wilson. It’s called strategy,” Bucky retorts, his voice dry as the air outside. He points at Sam with a spoon he’s commandeered from your kitchen. “And for the record, you’d lose. Miserably.”

You watch the exchange with a faint smile but stay quiet, the usual light in your eyes missing. The flickering Christmas lights that Sam insisted on stringing up two weeks ago cast colorful reflections on the windowpane, but they don’t seem to reach you. You’re distant, quieter than usual, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Sam shoots you a glance, his brow furrowing. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can tell he’s thinking. His energy shifts, his grin softening around the edges.

“Alright, hold up,” he says abruptly, turning his attention to you. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been sitting there like a sad elf all evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “A sad elf?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, nodding decisively. “Like one of Santa’s helpers who just found out Christmas is canceled.”

Bucky snorts but doesn’t say anything, his sharp blue eyes flicking toward you. He’s clearly waiting for your response too, though he’s less direct than Sam about it.

“I’m fine,” you say, a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Sam drawls, not buying it for a second. He slides off the arm of the chair and crouches in front of you, his hands resting on his knees. “Talk to me. Why do you look like someone just stole your cookies?”

You let out a reluctant laugh. “I’m fine, really. Just… not feeling very festive this year, I guess.”

Bucky leans back on his hands, his brow furrowed. “Why not? You’ve got Sam here trying to turn the apartment into the North Pole and me… well, I’m here.”

“And what an incredible addition you are,” Sam quips without missing a beat, earning himself a side-eye from Bucky.

You shrug, not meeting either of their gazes. “I don’t know. Christmas just doesn’t feel the same as it used to.”

Sam exchanges a quick glance with Bucky, a silent conversation passing between them. It’s the kind of unspoken communication that comes from years of fighting side by side, though in this case, it’s more about scheming than strategy.

“Alright,” Sam declares, standing up and clapping his hands together. “Challenge accepted.”

“Challenge?” you ask warily.

“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “Operation Restore Christmas Spirit. Buck, you in?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” Sam says cheerfully. “You’re in.”

Bucky sighs but doesn’t argue. “Fine. But if this involves ugly sweaters or caroling, I’m out.”

“No promises,” Sam replies, already pulling out his phone to jot down ideas.

You groan, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “You guys don’t have to—”

“Too late,” Sam interrupts. “This is happening. By the time we’re done, you’re gonna be singing Christmas carols and throwing tinsel like your life depends on it.”

Bucky smirks. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Sam’s eyes light up with mischief. “Oh, you will, Barnes. You will.”

The rest of the evening is spent with Sam and Bucky brainstorming increasingly ridiculous plans to restore your Christmas spirit. Sam suggests renting a sleigh and hiring reindeer. Bucky counters with something about a snowball fight tournament, which Sam shoots down because he doesn’t want to lose. By the time you head to bed, their bickering is still going strong, and you fall asleep to the sound of their voices, a small smile playing on your lips.

The next morning, you wake to the smell of coffee and the distant hum of Sam humming off-key in the kitchen. Blinking groggily, you sit up and wrap your blanket around your shoulders before trudging into the living room. Sam is by the stove, a spatula in one hand and a phone in the other, clearly multitasking. Bucky is sitting at the table, staring skeptically at a plate of pancakes in front of him.

“Morning, sunshine,” Sam greets you without looking up, flipping a pancake with unnecessary flair. “You hungry? I made breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, and a little something I like to call the magic of Christmas.”

“Magic of Christmas?” you echo, rubbing your eyes.

“Don’t ask,” Bucky mutters, poking at his plate like it might bite him.

“It’s festive,” Sam says defensively, finally looking up from his phone. He grins at you, his energy far too high for this early in the morning. “Speaking of festive, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

You eye him warily. “A surprise?”

“Yep.” He sets the spatula down and crosses the kitchen, plucking something from the counter. When he turns back to you, he’s holding a Santa hat and a pair of reindeer antlers. “Here. Pick one.”

“Why?” you ask, staring at the options.

“Because,” Sam says with a grin, “we’re going on a Christmas adventure.”

Bucky groans. “Oh no. Here we go.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Barnes,” Sam retorts. “This is going to be fun. Now, which one do you want?”

You hesitate, glancing between the two items. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Sam says firmly.

With a sigh, you grab the Santa hat, plopping it onto your head. Sam beams, clearly pleased with himself. Bucky just shakes his head and mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “This is ridiculous.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re bundled up and crammed into Sam’s car, the Santa hat still perched on your head. Sam is driving, his holiday playlist blasting through the speakers, and Bucky is in the passenger seat, looking deeply unimpressed.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” you ask, peering out the window at the snowy streets.

“Nope,” Sam says cheerfully. “It’s a surprise.”

“Great,” Bucky mutters. “I love surprises.”

“Liar,” Sam shoots back, earning himself an eye roll.

The car ride is a mix of Sam singing enthusiastically—if not particularly well—to Christmas classics and Bucky grumbling about the state of modern music. Despite yourself, you find it hard not to smile. Their banter is infectious, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of warmth in your chest.

Eventually, Sam pulls into a parking lot outside what looks like a community center. Strings of lights are draped across the building, and a giant inflatable snowman stands by the entrance. There’s a handmade sign that reads: “Annual Christmas Carnival: Today Only!”

“A carnival?” you ask, glancing at Sam.

“Not just any carnival,” he says, grinning as he turns off the car. “The Christmas Carnival. They’ve got everything—games, hot cocoa, carolers. It’s the perfect place to get you back in the Christmas spirit.”

You hesitate, glancing at the building. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” Sam says, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

Bucky sighs but gets out of the car without complaint. You follow reluctantly, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as the cold wind nips at your cheeks.

Inside, the carnival is a whirlwind of activity. Booths line the walls, each one decked out in festive decorations. There’s a hot cocoa stand, a cookie-decorating station, and even a small stage where a group of carolers is singing Jingle Bells. The air smells like cinnamon and sugar, and the sound of laughter fills the room.

Sam claps his hands together. “Alright, troops. Let’s do this.”

“What exactly are we doing?” you ask, your eyes darting around the room.

“Everything,” Sam says with a grin. “We’re hitting every booth, playing every game, and eating every Christmas treat we can find.”

“That’s ambitious,” Bucky says dryly.

“It’s festive,” Sam corrects, dragging you toward the nearest booth.

The first stop is a ring toss game where the rings are designed to look like wreaths. Sam insists on going first and somehow manages to knock over the entire display on his second throw. You can’t help but laugh as the booth attendant scrambles to fix it. Bucky goes next, and despite his grumbling, he nails it on his first try, winning a plush reindeer that he immediately hands to you.

“Here,” he says gruffly, avoiding your gaze. “Might as well get something out of this.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, hugging the reindeer to your chest.

Next is the cookie-decorating station, where Sam attempts to create an intricate snowflake design but ends up with something that looks more like a splatter painting. Bucky, on the other hand, sticks to a simple tree shape, his steady hands making the task look easy. You try your best to decorate a gingerbread man, but halfway through, Sam bumps your elbow, sending a glob of frosting onto its face.

“Oops,” he says, not looking the least bit sorry.

“Sam!” you protest, but you’re laughing, and he grins triumphantly.

The day passes in a blur of laughter and sugar. Sam keeps the energy high, dragging you and Bucky from booth to booth with boundless enthusiasm. Bucky plays along, his dry wit keeping things grounded, and you find yourself relaxing, the weight on your shoulders growing a little lighter with each passing moment.

By the time you leave the carnival, your arms are full of prizes and your cheeks hurt from smiling. Sam is still humming Christmas carols under his breath, and even Bucky looks a little less grumpy than usual.

“So,” Sam says as he unlocks the car. “How are we feeling? Festive yet?”

You hesitate, glancing down at the plush reindeer in your arms. The carnival was fun—more fun than you’ve had in a long time—but there’s still a part of you that feels disconnected, like you’re standing on the outside of the holiday cheer looking in.

“I’m getting there,” you say finally.

Sam’s grin falters slightly, but he quickly recovers. “Alright. Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

“Oh no,” Bucky mutters, climbing into the passenger seat.

Sam winks at you. “Trust me. By the time we’re done, you’ll believe in Christmas magic again.”

You laugh softly, settling into the back seat as the car pulls away. Maybe Sam’s right. Maybe you just need a little more time—and a lot more Christmas magic.

The following morning, you wake to the sound of hushed voices coming from the living room. Stretching, you shuffle out of bed, still clutching the plush reindeer Bucky had won for you at the carnival. As you approach, you catch snippets of Sam and Bucky’s conversation.

“It’s not my fault you have zero imagination,” Sam is saying, his tone dripping with mock exasperation. “My ideas are fun.”

Bucky grunts in response. “Your ideas are loud. We need something quieter. More… nostalgic.”

“You’re saying that because you don’t like crowds,” Sam shoots back.

“I don’t like your crowds,” Bucky mutters.

You step into the room, interrupting their banter. “Good morning. What are you two arguing about now?”

Sam brightens immediately, flashing you one of his megawatt smiles. “Morning, sleepyhead. We were just discussing today’s plan to restore your Christmas spirit.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Discussing is a generous term.”

You glance between them suspiciously. “What’s the plan?”

“It’s my turn,” Bucky says, crossing his arms. He doesn’t elaborate, which is very on-brand for him.

Sam sighs dramatically. “Apparently, Barnes here thinks he’s got a foolproof way to bring back your Christmas cheer.”

“Better than whatever nonsense you were going to suggest,” Bucky retorts, grabbing his jacket. He turns to you, his tone softening slightly. “Get dressed. You’ll need warm clothes.”

You hesitate, glancing at Sam for clarification, but he just shrugs, clearly as curious as you are. With no other option, you head back to your room to bundle up. Fifteen minutes later, you’re climbing into Sam’s car again, the air inside warm and slightly foggy from your breath.

The drive is quieter this time, though not unpleasant. Sam hums along to the holiday playlist on the radio, and Bucky occasionally points out landmarks or interesting spots along the way. When Sam takes a wrong turn, Bucky doesn’t hesitate to give him grief for it, sparking another round of their usual back-and-forth.

Eventually, the car pulls into a parking lot surrounded by pine trees dusted with snow. A rustic wooden sign reads: “Pine Haven Christmas Tree Farm.”

“A tree farm?” you ask, surprised.

Bucky nods. “We’re picking out a Christmas tree. A real one.”

“Real trees smell better,” Sam says, hopping out of the car. “Even if they’re a pain to deal with.”

“And,” Bucky adds, “we’re cutting it down ourselves. None of that pre-cut nonsense.”

Sam snorts. “Yeah, because nothing says holiday cheer like manual labor.”

You chuckle, a warmth blooming in your chest. It’s been years since you’ve had a real Christmas tree. The idea stirs something inside you—something nostalgic and bittersweet.

The three of you wander through the rows of trees, the air crisp and fragrant with the scent of pine. Sam keeps cracking jokes about finding the “perfect” tree, pointing out ones that are either hilariously small or ridiculously oversized. Bucky, meanwhile, is methodical, inspecting each tree like it’s a tactical mission.

“What about this one?” you ask, stopping in front of a medium-sized fir with evenly spaced branches.

Bucky steps closer, his gloved fingers brushing against the needles. “Not bad,” he says after a moment. “Good height, full shape.”

“Sounds like he’s describing himself,” Sam quips, earning a glare from Bucky.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think it’s perfect.”

“Alright,” Bucky says, pulling a small saw from where it’s strapped to his back. “Let’s get to work.”

“Wait, you brought a saw?” Sam asks, incredulous.

“Of course I did,” Bucky replies, crouching beside the tree. “What did you think we were going to do, punch it down?”

Sam shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing you’ve done.”

While Bucky works on cutting the tree, Sam nudges you with his elbow. “So,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “Are you having fun yet?”

You smile, glancing at Bucky as he saws through the trunk with surprising ease. “I think so.”

“Good.” Sam’s grin softens, his dark eyes warm as they meet yours. “You deserve it, you know. A real Christmas.”

Your heart skips a beat at his sincerity. “Thanks, Sam.”

Before you can dwell on the moment, Bucky straightens, brushing snow from his knees. “Done,” he announces, gesturing to the fallen tree. “Help me carry it to the car.”

The three of you manage to haul the tree back to the car, though not without a fair amount of slipping, sliding, and laughing. Sam insists on tying it to the roof, despite Bucky’s clear skepticism.

“Don’t worry,” Sam says as he tightens the knots. “I’ve got this.”

“If that tree falls off, I’m making you go back and get it,” Bucky warns.

It doesn’t fall off, but the ride back is filled with Sam’s exaggerated accounts of how his superior knot-tying skills saved the day. Bucky’s deadpan responses only make the stories more ridiculous, and by the time you pull into the driveway, your cheeks hurt from laughing.

Back at the apartment, the real fun begins. Bucky helps you set up the tree while Sam retrieves the decorations he bought earlier in the season. There are strings of lights, shiny ornaments, and a gaudy star topper that Sam insists on using despite Bucky’s protests.

As you hang ornaments, Sam sidles up beside you, handing you a small red bauble. “So,” he says casually, “when was the last time you did this?”

You pause, turning the ornament over in your hands. “It’s been a while. Years, probably.”

Sam’s smile softens. “Well, you’re a natural.”

Your cheeks flush, and you look away, focusing on the tree. “Thanks.”

Nearby, Bucky watches the exchange with a quiet intensity. When Sam moves to adjust a strand of lights, Bucky steps closer to you, holding out an ornament shaped like a snowflake.

“Here,” he says, his voice low. “This one should go near the top.”

You take it, your fingers brushing his gloved hand. “Thanks, Bucky.”

For a moment, neither of you moves, the air between you heavy with something unspoken. Then Bucky clears his throat, stepping back to give you space. You hang the ornament, your heart fluttering for reasons you can’t quite name.

By the time the tree is fully decorated, the apartment feels transformed. The twinkling lights cast a warm glow, and the scent of pine fills the air. Sam flops onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, gesturing for you and Bucky to join him.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, draping an arm around the back of the couch. “We make a good team.”

You sit beside him, leaning into his warmth. Bucky takes the armchair, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he looks away.

“It’s perfect,” you say softly, your voice filled with a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Sam grins, squeezing your shoulder. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but the small smile on his face speaks volumes.

The next morning, you wake with a strange warmth in your chest. It’s not the residual effects of the heated blanket or the lingering scent of pine from the Christmas tree. It’s something else, something harder to name. For the first time in weeks—maybe months—you feel lighter, like a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying has started to lift.

You pad into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and find Sam and Bucky already there. Sam is leaning against the counter, munching on a piece of toast, while Bucky sips his coffee in silence, his expression as neutral as ever.

“Morning,” you say, your voice a little shy.

“Morning!” Sam replies, far too chipper for someone who’s been awake long enough to finish breakfast. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. “Uh… so, are we… doing anything festive today?”

Sam freezes mid-bite, his eyes going wide, and Bucky actually raises an eyebrow at you. It takes you a second to realize how out of character your question must sound.

“I mean,” you add quickly, your cheeks heating, “I’ve just been… having fun, I guess. And, uh… yeah.”

Sam grins like you’ve just handed him the winning lottery ticket. “Well, well, well. Look who’s finally getting into the Christmas spirit.”

Bucky smirks, setting his coffee mug down. “You sure you’re feeling alright?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m serious. Do you guys have any plans? If not, we could—”

“Say no more,” Sam interrupts, already pulling out his phone. “I’ve got a whole list of ideas.”

Bucky groans, though you catch the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Of course you do.”

“Don’t worry, Buck,” Sam says, scrolling through his notes with exaggerated focus. “I’m sure we’ll find something even you’ll enjoy.”

“Doubt it,” Bucky mutters, but he doesn’t argue when Sam starts rattling off options.

An hour later, the three of you are bundled up and walking through the snow-dusted streets toward the local ice-skating rink. Sam had insisted it was the perfect mix of festive and fun, though Bucky’s skeptical expression suggests he’s not convinced.

The rink is a charming, open-air setup surrounded by twinkling lights and dotted with skaters of all ages. A small booth nearby sells hot cocoa and cider, and holiday music plays softly through the speakers.

Sam rents the skates for all of you, tossing a pair your way with a grin. “Think you can handle it?”

“Probably better than you,” you retort, lacing up your skates.

Bucky snorts. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Moments later, you’re wobbling onto the ice, gripping the railing for dear life. Sam glides past you effortlessly, a smug grin on his face. “You were saying?”

“Oh, shut up,” you mutter, carefully pushing off from the wall. It takes a few tries, but you manage to find your balance, skating in slow, deliberate circles.

Bucky follows more cautiously, his movements stiff but steady. He doesn’t say much, but you catch him watching you, his gaze softer than you’re used to.

“You alright there, old man?” Sam calls, skating backward just to show off.

“Better than you’re going to be when you fall,” Bucky shoots back, though there’s no real bite to his words.

After a few laps, you start to relax, the rhythm of skating soothing in a way you hadn’t expected. Sam, ever the showoff, tries to teach you a spin but ends up losing his balance and landing flat on his back. You burst into laughter, the sound ringing out across the rink, and even Bucky chuckles as he helps pull Sam to his feet.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Sam grumbles, though his grin betrays him.

“You deserve it,” you say, still laughing.

Bucky offers you a hand, his gloved fingers warm against yours. “Come on,” he says, his voice low. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

You take his hand, your heart skipping a beat as he leads you across the ice. He’s surprisingly graceful for someone who claims to dislike skating, and the steadiness of his grip makes you feel like you might actually be good at this.

For a while, it’s just the two of you, gliding side by side while Sam practices another ill-advised spin. Bucky doesn’t say much, but his presence is steady and reassuring, like an anchor in the chaos of the holiday bustle.

“You’re getting the hang of it,” he says quietly, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“Thanks,” you reply, your cheeks warming—not just from the cold.

You skate together in comfortable silence, the world narrowing to the soft scrape of blades on ice and the occasional sound of laughter from nearby skaters. There’s something about the moment that feels… right, like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

But then Sam skates up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you out of your thoughts. “Alright, lovebirds,” he says, grinning. “Time for cocoa.”

You shoot him a look, but you can’t deny the flutter in your chest at his teasing.

The three of you head to the cocoa booth, where Sam insists on topping yours with extra whipped cream. Bucky grumbles about the sugar content but still takes a sip of his own drink, his expression softening as the warmth seeps in.

As you sip your cocoa, your gaze flickers between them—Sam with his easy smile and infectious energy, and Bucky with his quiet strength and surprising gentleness. The realization hits you like a snowball to the chest: you care about them. Both of them. More than you’d ever expected, more than you know what to do with.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of holiday cheer. You visit a Christmas market, where Sam insists on buying matching scarves for all of you, and Bucky surprises you by picking out a delicate snowflake necklace and slipping it into your hand with a quiet, “For you.”

By the time you return to the apartment, your heart feels like it might burst from everything—joy, gratitude, confusion. You can’t stop thinking about how Sam’s laugh makes your chest ache in the best way or how Bucky’s rare smiles make you feel like the only person in the room.

As you help Sam hang the scarves by the door, Bucky sits on the couch, flipping through a book he’d picked up at the market. The soft glow of the Christmas lights bathes the room in warmth, and for a moment, you just stand there, taking it all in.

“Hey,” Sam says, his voice low. He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours. “You okay?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“About what?” he asks, his dark eyes searching yours.

You hesitate, glancing at Bucky, who looks up from his book as if sensing your gaze. The weight of their attention settles over you, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say.

“I… I don’t know,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “This. Us. Everything.”

Sam’s grin softens into something more serious, and Bucky closes his book, his expression unreadable. The silence stretches, heavy with possibilities.

“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” Sam says gently, his hand brushing against yours again.

Bucky nods, his voice steady. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The warmth in their words wraps around you like a blanket, and for the first time, you let yourself imagine what it might be like—sharing this, sharing them. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

As the evening winds down, the three of you settle on the couch to watch a Christmas movie. Sam drapes an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close, while Bucky sits on your other side, his hand resting lightly on your knee. You glance between them, your heart full and uncertain, and wonder if maybe—just maybe—you don’t have to choose.

For now, it’s enough to simply be here, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the people who make your world feel whole.