#would you believe me if i said its because i love zap gags and they dont have zap in that one

[st4rstudent]

finding out last years toon fest was in Atlanta is really funny to me

[amethystpath-writes]

A Lesson Learned

(NOT A PROMPT)

Hello :) Could you write a piece where the extremely flirtatious villain notices that the hero isn’t taking care of themselves and tries to get them to and promises not to do anything (capture them, etc), but (surprise!) then they do? Haha sorry if it’s a bit specific, adore your writing!

******

“Why, doll,” Villain cooed from behind the bench which Hero sat upon. The bench was old, wood in the process of rotting. Speaking of rot- Villain rounded the park bench, coming face to face with that once-handsome, now-perished face. “Don’t you just look like you sprang from Hell? Yeesh.”

Hero shrugged, not even caring that Villain was here to taunt him yet again- to pick at him with compliments. Usually, anyways. Now, she was insulting him. Did he really look that out of it? Hero felt like it, so it shouldn’t have been so surprising to him. “Don’t feel great- get out of here.”

“And do what? I’d miss the grumble in your voice too much. Come now, my dear, tell me what has that pretty hair of yours so tangled.” Villain’s hand grazed the locks atop Hero’s head, fingers skimming his scalp. She hummed her delight. “How pretty,” Villain whispered into Hero’s ear. “Even if it is greasy.”

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this.”

Good God, what is that stench? Villain could gag- not could; Villain did gag on the smell. “When was the last time you showered, sugar?” Hero certainly didn’t smell like sugar, but it was in Villain’s nature to shoot a flirt at him anyways.

“Don’t know. Would you get your hand out of my hair?”

“You don’t know?” Villain sighed, dropping her hand and rounding the bench until she came to the front, facing Hero and his abnormally large eye sacks. “Oh, darling…” you have jellyfish beneath your eyes. “You should take better care of yourself. I could help you, you know?”

Hero’s eyes grew as wide as they could with eyelids made of lead. “Help me do what? Bathe?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind helping you do that- think of how close we would be, my sweet doll.” She sat beside the broken-beyond-repair hero, dragging a fingertip along his dirtied pants. Villain sighed, slightly bored of this game of chess. Her flirtations were slipping away like a wet bar of soap. What an ironic comparison.

Villain said, “What I meant is this; I’ll give your handsomeness a break- or your ugliness, rather. You need to regain your looks, hence the break.”

Ignoring the insult, Hero said, dead-panned, “And I’m supposed to believe you.” A soft tut.

“Have I given you any reason not to? On this pretty night?”

“Beyond the not-so-subtle insults,” Hero thought aloud, and finished with, “I guess not.”

With a scoff, Villain said, “I wouldn’t call those insults. I could have said much worse- and anyways, you know I’m a tease. I feel even more concerned that you’ve forgotten such a vital detail about me. More reason to leave you alone. Right, my love?”

“I still don’t know if I believe you.”

“Why would it matter what I did or didn’t do when you don’t even care to look after yourself?”

She makes a good point. Still… “What would you do then?” Hero didn’t particularly care to have this conversation right now, but- well, he was a hero. Even if he were too exhausted to take care of himself, it was still his responsibility to protect the people. Just because Villain was saying she’d leave Hero alone didn’t mean she’d leave the citizens alone.

“What would I do? Sulk, mostly. I’d miss your pretty little face while I sat alone on my couch.”

“Right. Because I always sit on a couch with you.”

“There’s a taste of that precious fire. You’re beautiful when you’re sarcastic- and healthy.”

Hero sighed. It didn’t matter what he said, did it? He could tell Villain she looked like a horse’s rear-end mixed with a jackal’s paw and she’d continue sticking around. “You said you’d give me a break.” Of course, Hero still didn’t believe Villain’s words. It was her one and only nature to torment him with pointless compliments- and harmful insults apparently.

As if I didn’t already know I look like crap. I’m tired; that’s all. No motivation to do anything but sit on the park bench. He didn’t even feel like getting up to stretch his legs, despite knowing it needed to be done. Hero would rather deal with the aches of standing than to be forced into using so much energy while sitting. How draining it was- standing up from his position now. That’s why he stayed put, even with Villain’s hand circling in his hair once again.

This time, the hand in Hero’s hair was actually soothing. The tender scrape of Villain’s nails against his scalp. The gentle pull through the hair as her fingers caught on tangles, though the larger knots were a tad painful. Hero hummed his delight at the two former feelings, finding himself leaning into the arm which offered such relief.

On a regular day, one not so adorned with absent motivation and sourness, Hero would have slapped Villain’s hand away- would have told her to go find a dog in the park to pet. Naturally, he would have regretted saying it, thinking that Villain might claw its eyes out instead of petting it. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t do something that serious, but she might have stepped on a puppy’s tail, making it screech- if only to horrify the owner.

“Isn’t this a nice break, sugar?��� Villain asked, but, of course, there was more to it than this scalp massage. When Hero fell asleep, with his head on Villain’s shoulder, she would give herself a break- not him.

******

Eyes still closed from having just woken up, Hero pulled his shoulder back against the hard- hard? I thought I was in- His eyes cracked open.

White ceiling. Or, mostly white, at least. There was some water damage that Hero could see even through his blurry and freshly woken eyes. The yellow and orange stains did not belong on his ceiling.

He shifted slightly, body still stiff, but he wasn’t willing to stretch yet- just in case there was…a certain someone…paying attention. Damn Villain, Hero thought, because who else’s home could he be in if it weren’t his own?

It was with this thought in mind that Hero sat up. No use in lounging around. Better off to find a way out before Villain-

“Nice to see those starlit eyes of yours.”

Great. Turning his head, he saw Villain casually sprawled across a couch.

Well, one thing was for certain; Hero had the motivation to get up and run again. At least he could thank Villain for something, even if it were simply the desire to escape.

Sitting up, slowly and stiffly, Hero said, “A break. You were supposed to give me a break. It’s what you said, what you told me you’d do. You would give me a break to take care of myself and you would sulk.”

He could almost imagine Villain’s voice answering with an easy lull, ‘I didn’t say what the break would entail, love.’ Love. Darling. Doll. My dear. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.

“I gave you a break. Two of them, if we’re being technical. The massage and the shelter. Actually,” Villain smiled at him from her couch cushion, eyes closing just slightly as her cheeks gathered higher and higher. “I might call it liberation- instead of a break. Infinite freedom versus periods of mass depression and showerless nights.”

Hero felt his jaw tick. “What are you talking about?” he asked, voice low- just the way Villain liked.

He wasn’t helping his case any, now, was he? Being all cutesy. It only allowed Villain to enjoy this whole situation more.

“You wake up in your stalker’s home and don’t even think to check your body for modifications? What a pity you are sometimes,” Villain giggled. She meant it as a compliment; it was her way of calling the hero cute and favourable.

Stalker. Well, Villain might as well have been considered as such. She showed up just about everywhere Hero was, only to hold hostages for no other reason than to have control over someone, to hear the fear in their high whines- and to see the fear glistening low in their eyes. Villain was wicked, and she was wicked always in Hero’s presence. Stalker- maybe that’s what the news would start calling her if they, or Hero, ever managed to stop Villain.

Villain grew impatient with Hero’s procrastination of observation. “Explore yourself, won’t you?”

And Hero did now. He looked down his arms, torso, legs, anything that was in his perspective, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, except- “Do not tell me you actually washed me.” His arms were speck and dead-skin cleaned.

“A wet rag against your arms and legs, nothing else.”

Hero simply took her word for it, trying not to imagine how he’d feel if she were lying. How horrendous.

Then what is it? Nothing- absolutely nothing- was irregular, so why was Villain going on about…Hero’s fingers skimmed something along his neck- one of the few things he couldn’t see with his own eyes.

No…no. Not just along his neck. There was something inside of Hero’s neck. “What did you do to me?” His voice came out as a horrifyingly quiet whisper, one that squeaked in the back of his throat.

“You wouldn’t take care of yourself, Hero. I had to step in.”

“I don’t- no. No. Whatever you’re doing, you- you need to- I need to go home. I need you to stay away from me and I need- I need-” Oh no. Was he hyperventilating? He couldn’t- God, he couldn’t breathe. Hero was panicking, scratching at his neck, at the irregular shaped lumps. Get out. Get. Out. Getout. Getout. Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.

A gasp sounded in the room as Hero’s head hit the ground, trying to dodge the zap that occurred at the front of his throat, right where he was scratching so madly.

“Well, I guess that’s a lesson learned rather quickly. Darling, you didn’t even know what those were, and yet you were trying to rip them out. It might have killed you.”

“Uhah.”

Villain quirked her head to the side. “Didn’t get that, sorry. Must have fried your vocal cords- better that than you build up a bunch of infectious bacteria.” Truth be told, the zap wasn’t so bad that it would permanently damage Hero- only give him little tics and make him fret.

“You’ll be so very happy that I took that rag over your skin- otherwise you’d have woken up to your own stench while I was injecting the little stun rods. That would have been difficult,” Villain laughed, legs extending until they laid on the arm of the couch.

“Now,” Villain piped, “there is an outfit laid out in the bathroom- down this hall here”- she pointed- “and second door to the right. Get a shower, bath, whatever you want, and get dressed. I have plans and I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Swerving her legs over the arm- despite having just put them there- Villain planted her feet on the ground and placed her elbows near her knees, leaning forward, all amount of humour aside. “I’m the only one who gets to torment you, you hear me? Not even you have my permission to do harm to yourself or otherwise slack in personal healthcare. If you are in any kind of bad condition, it will be because I allowed it. M’kay?”

She stood, walked several paces to where Hero still sat on the floor and patted his cheek. “I’m making myself food before we leave and while you take a shower. Don’t disappoint me by trying to escape, my dove. You’re in my cage now.” Villain gave Hero a tap on the head as she pulled a remote control out of her pocket with her other hand. For extra measure, she held one of the buttons for three seconds, sending Hero onto his back once again, writhing on the floor- though avoiding scratching his neck.

A lesson learned indeed.

“Believe it or not, I do intend to be kind to you. I just wanted to show you what happens if you decide you’re not worth taking care of again.”

One last click of the button and she was gone, leaving a panting hero behind in the dust.

[cagestark]

Hey Cagey, I hope life is treating you well. Tomorrow's my birthday so I was wondering if I could get a teeny tiny FIC of WinterIron? Anything smutty would make my heart whole. If not that's okay too, just hope your doing well. Sending all my love ❤️

Happy birthday ;)

About this: winteriron. Professor!Bucky, student!Tony. Blackmail. Rough oral sex. 

-

Bucky shifts the stack of files in his arms, using one hip to jolt open his office door and one elbow to reach the lightswitch. It’s years of well-honed instincts that keep him from dropping the papers at the sight of the figure slouched in the chair in front of his desk. A familiar figure, who turns to give him a familiar smirk at the sight of Bucky in the doorway. 

“Mister Stark,” Bucky says flatly. “Office hours have ended.”

“Did they?” Tony asks, sitting up. He glances down to the Rolex on his wrist. “Well. You know, it’s hard to see one’s watch in the dark.” 

“Something that could have easily been fixed by turning on the light. I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mister Stark. If you have questions over today’s material, you can send me an email.” 

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Tony asks, eyes glittering. He must know the sight he makes to Bucky, his dress shirt open at the collar, hair rumpled, mouth full and red. Tony Stark knows how attractive he is. Worse, he knows how attractive Bucky finds him and has been leveraging it against him ever since. “After all,” Tony continues. “This is your office.” 

“Leave, Stark,” says Bucky. Before I do something I’ll regret, he thinks. 

“I’ll be quick,” Tony promises, dark eyes growing wide and guileless at Bucky’s stern tone. “I just wanted an upcoming event that I couldn’t find on the course schedule.” 

Sighing, Bucky gives one last glance to the empty hallway. This is most assuredly a trap, but Tony has always had a way of finding the cracks in Bucky’s armor, of wedging himself in like the head of a crowbar and leveraging himself until Bucky feels on the verge of shattering. He steps in against his better judgement, sitting the stack of files on the nearest cabinet. The door falls shut—where the hell is the stopper that will prop it open? Gone from its usual spot. Stolen, Bucky suspects. 

“Be quick, Stark,” Bucky snaps. 

“Got a hot date tonight, Professor?” Tony asks. 

Bucky sits down heavily in the chair on the other side of his desk—better to keep that between them, a silent reminder of their statuses and the separation that must be maintained. The look he gives Tony must be scathing and unimpressed judging by the grimace the younger man gives him. Still got it, Bucky thinks to himself. “Which event isn’t on the schedule?” 

“Your impending termination of employment.” 

It is silent enough to hear a pin drop. 

“Is that so?” Bucky responds cooly. “Then I see where the mistake was made, because I’ve been given no notice of dismissal from the board.” 

Tony smiles, leaning back in his chair. Cocky, he puts one expensive loafer up on Bucky’s desk and then the other. “I haven’t filed my grievance yet. You know how they sent out the teacher assessment forms to select students? Well imagine my delight when the board wanted me to assess your class. To assess you. I haven’t decided what I’m going to say yet. Did you corner me after class and hit on me? Were we in your office when you came on to me, propositioned me, said you’d give me a glowing recommendation if I’d only get on my knees and suck your cock? The options are endless. I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic and honestly, I’m eager to put it to use—” 

Bucky is nearly stunned. “I never would have thought that you’d sink so low, Stark.”

“Honest mistake. Next time, don’t underestimate me,” Tony says brightly.

“Why?” Bucky says through his clenched teeth. “Why would you lie to them and have my job, my certificate taken away? Because I won’t keep turning you down? Because I won’t fuck you? Are you really so desperate?” 

“Yes,” Tony says easily, sitting up and letting his feet fall back to the floor. He leans in closer than Bucky would like, close enough for him to see the darker brown ring around the whiskey of his irises. “I’m desperate. And I know you’re desperate. You fucking want me. I’m just trying to give you the incentive you need to take me. I’ll give you glowing marks all down the line. I’ll never say a word against you. Just give in already.” 

“You’re fucking despicable,” Bucky says. He slides the chair back from the desk, putting space between them that does nothing to abate the fury in Bucky’s blood nor the heat pooling in his gut. It takes several deep breaths for him to keep his temper, for him to turn his eyes to Tony and find the young, relentless student watching him, smug. “Well?” Bucky snaps. “You want me so bad? You’re so desperate for it? Get on your knees.” 

Tony’s eyes widen fractionally, any last shred of doubt in him that this would work brushed away in the face of Bucky’s rough words. He scrambles down onto his knees, crawling around the desk and into the space between Bucky’s thighs. Bucky looks down at him, face twisted with malice. But his shame is obvious, tenting at his dress slacks. 

“I have places to be,” Bucky says cruelly. “Open your mouth and put it to use for once in your fucking life.”

Thin, capable fingers nimbly unbuckle Bucky’s belt, too eager to do anything but press either end aside and reach for the button and zipper. His fingers brush against Bucky’s cock, pleasurable zaps of electricity that have him taking in deep, slow breaths to try and maintain his control. He looks up towards the ceiling begging forgiveness from whatever cruel deity put Tony Stark in his path. Can’t believe I’m doing this, he thinks to himself. 

Then Tony is pulling Bucky’s stiff cock from his boxers. Bucky keeps his eyes on the younger man’s face, watching as Tony assesses him with clever eyes: the flushed head, the thick shaft, the neatly trimmed pubic hair at the base. Reaching out, Bucky threads his fingers into Tony’s unmanageable hair and tugs hard. “I hope this isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked,” he says. “Because I’m not going to go easy on you.” 

“I don’t want you to,” Tony says, eyes half-lidded. “Use me, Professor. God knows you fucking need to get laid.” 

“Open your mouth,” Bucky hisses through his teeth. For once, Tony does as ordered, and Bucky slips past those wicked lips into liquid heat that burns his cock in the best way. A sound is torn from deep in his chest against his will, and when Tony’s eyes flash up at him victoriously, Bucky pulls the head of dark hair down just to fuck the expression clean off. Tony’s mouth is good for more than just snark and flirtation, Bucky learns. He keeps his lips closed tight to create a seal that only increases the pressure around his cock when Bucky pulls Tony’s head back. His tongue works to caress the shaft, but the finesse is lost in the brutality of Bucky’s thrusts, fucking up into Tony’s mouth with a vigor that has tears welling up in those dark eyes. The sounds are obscene, wet gags and stifled, choking coughs, the likes of which squeeze Bucky’s cockhead in a way that has his teeth clenching tight. 

One of Tony’s hands slaps at Bucky’s thigh. 

Bucky draws back for a moment to slap his cock lightly against Tony’s cheek, watching with dark pleasure as he gasps for air. 

“Don’t you fight me now, kid,” Bucky says, hooking a thumb over Tony’s bottom teeth to pull him back in. “You wanted this, you’re going to take it.” 

Tony’s eyes roll, a groan vibrating around Bucky’s cock. The mouth around him relaxes further, throat opening to let Bucky in a fraction deeper, the expression on Tony’s face a cross of bliss and agony. When he glances down, Bucky sees that Tony’s hips are aimlessly thrusting against nothing but air, cock hard and untouched. The sight sends the simmer in his stomach boiling, his balls drawing up, desperate for a release that (Tony is right) has been a long time in coming. 

“I’m going to cum and you’re going to swallow every last fucking drop, do you hear me, Stark? You get a single drop on my suit and you’re going to be licking it up.” A weak vibration around his cock is the only answer, Tony’s eyes fluttering as Bucky gives a few last brutal thrusts, pulling back just far enough to cum in Tony’s mouth instead of down his throat. It’s the hardest he’s cum since he was just a teenager, body seizing up tight as his cock shoots its spend. The sound that comes from him is almost unrecognizable, something primal and so, so satisfied. Tony latches his lips around the head, sucking him clean, swallowing in hefty gulps. 

Tony finally sits back on his heels. His hair is even more a mess, his mouth red and swollen from the fucking he was given, his eyes heavy-lidded. One of his hands reaches down between his own legs, gripping the impression of his cock and squeezing tightly. 

“Hands off,” Bucky snaps. 

“Professor,” Tony groans, voice wrecked. “Please let me cum. Please.” 

Bucky straightens a leg, guides it between Tony’s until his shin brushes Tony’s hardon. “Don’t ever say I didn’t do anything for you, kid. Rub off on me. Thrust your hips—there you go. Good boy. That’s how you take orders, Stark. That’s how you follow instructions. Where’s this obedience any other time? Jesus, are you about to cum already? What a hair trigger.” 

Tony cums with a stifled shout, back arching obscenely so that he can drag his twitching cock against the firmness of Bucky’s leg, entire body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Bucky’s own cock gives a twitch. Jesus, but he’s wanted the kid. In all his years teaching at the university, and he’s never given in to any attraction to his students. Until today. 

Standing abruptly, Bucky leaves Tony shuddering on the floor while he comes down. He stalks to the file cabinet by the door and sifts through the files, searching, searching, until at last he plucks one free and opens it. 

Bucky clears his throat. “Tony Stark, student-teacher assessment for Professor J. Barnes, submitted this afternoon at a quarter past twelve. Five stars in all categories. I especially liked your note at the end: Mr. Barnes demonstrates an obvious mastery of his subject and an empathetic investment in his students. He obviously wants each of us to succeed, and does whatever he can to see it come to fruition. He is an asset to the university. Very eloquent, Tony.” 

The younger man gapes up at him. “You, you knew I was bluffing? They aren’t supposed to give you those with our student information on them,” Tony croaks.

“Good thing they did, or I might have been anxious. Next time you try to blackmail me, don’t be a fucking idiot about it. Now get up, clean yourself up, and get the hell out of my office.”

[its-a-spn-thing]

Black Eyed Dreams - PART TWO

Title: Black Eyed Dreams, Part two

Characters / Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader, Sam x Reader x Dean Crowley. No Wincest.

Summary: The reader finds herself in Crowley’s palace. As usual, he has a few tricks up his sleeves to manipulate the Winchester brothers. This time, its at the reader’s expense. 

Warnings: This chapter is somewhat dark. Depictions of violence and bondage. 

A/N: 400 FOLLOWERS! I’m so excited that my little blog is gaining so much love and many friends. I can’t wait to continue to grow, and it is all thanks you my followers and readers. I can not thank you enough! As always, please like and reblog, and leave feedback - that’s what keeps me going! 

Masterlist  Series Masterlist

“Too busy inflicting pain to answer,” the rugged British voice hummed through Sam’s speaker and he hung up once he realizes he got sent to voicemail.

“No answer from Crowley,” Sam said as he walked through the motel room to collect his belongings that were scattered about. “Any word from Cas?”

“This is my voicemail, make your voice…” and Dean quickly pressed the end button on his phone as well. “Bubkis,” he responded.

Dean woke his younger brother up the moment he realized you were gone, and a tired, confused Sam quickly arose from his sleep to help his brother pack up the Impala. He was devastated. If he had just stayed awake and not let you out of his sight, no one would have ever taken you. He blamed himself, even though Dean insisted that this wasn’t his fault.

They had the car packed in five minutes, maybe even less. The two brothers were up against the clock, and they did not plan on wasting another precious second. Every second counted.

You stood in the middle of the dingy, dungeon-esque room, candles lit all throughout. You were still half naked from your endeavours with Sam, clad in pink boy-short panties and one of his t-shirts. You closed your eyes once you realized you should have put a bra on when you got dressed. Of course, you didn’t expect to see the King of Hell pop up in your motel room, let alone zap you to his “palace,” which seemed more like a warehouse.

Your nipples had forsaken you as the coldness of the damp room caused them to pop through the fabric of your lovers t-shirt. You quickly brought your arms across your breasts, feeling far to exposed in front of Crowley, and his minions.

“Darling,” you turned to face Crowley as he spoke to you, the look of confusion draped over your face. He sat on his throne with one leg crossed over his knee and a glass of scotch in his hand that was draped over the arm of the chair.

You didn’t speak, you just stood in the same spot, still facing him. He noticed you were uncomfortable when your eyes met with the two well dressed demons standing behind him. You brought one of the arms that was pressed against your chest to cover your crotch. Crowley was harmless, he would never try to sleep with you, but you didn’t trust his sketchy yes men as they looked at you. “Don’t worry about them, pet,” he shooed them away, and they left without saying a word. “Just focus on me.”

The lump in your throat finally dissipated as you stepped towards the rogue King of Hell. There was a little too much pep in your step for his liking, so he immediately put his hand up, forcing you to stop dead in your tracks. “Crowley!” You shouted, the aggravation audible in your voice. “Have you completely lost it?”

“Spare me the melodrama,” he put his hand back down, but you were still stuck in place. “Your lack of poetry bores me.”

You rolled your eyes and lifted your arms up to flap them back down to the sides of your legs. “My lack of poetry,” you scoffed, mimicking him. “What do you want, Crowley?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he uncrossed his legs so his feet were planted firmly on the ground, gripping on the arms of his throne to stand up. He buttoned up his tailored jacket when he stood, walking towards the small bar with a clear bottle of brown liquor and 3 glasses, the fourth was in his hand. He was going for a refill.

The motor to the Impala purred as Dean drove well over the speed limit. He and Sam continued to call Crowley and Cas. They were heading towards Crowley’s warehouse. They had a feeling that he was behind this.

“So help me God Sam, if he does anything to hurt Y/N,” Dean gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles at the thought of you getting hurt.

Sam looked out the window, deep in thought. He didn’t think Crowley had anything to do with this. “Dean, I think we’re barking up the wrong tree here.”

“Really?” Dean furrowed his brow and left his mouth open in the shape of the last syllable he spoke, looking at Sam in disbelief. “With Rowena missing, probably ran off with Lucifer somewhere,” he focused his eyes back to the highway, “he thinks we had something to do with her going missing.”

“So,” Sam paused to think for a minute, but he knew Dean had a good point, “he thinks that we took something of his.”

“And he wouldn’t think twice to take something of ours,” Dean responded quickly.

“Only problem with that theory is that Crowley hates Rowena.”

“Not when he needs something from her.” Dean looked at Sam once more, waiting for him to find a sensible argument, but Sam knew his brother was right.

Lucifer was on the run, and in order to avoid disaster, the Winchesters needed to try and find a way to get him back in the cage. Rowena would have been a huge help, but no one knew where she was.

“Proposition?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes and Crowley paused from pouring more scotch in his glass, looking up at you with displeasure.

“It something funny, Y/N?”

You looked up at the cobweb filled ceiling, stunned that he believed that somehow you could help him. You lifted your arm at the elbow in a questioning manner, running through possibilities in your head but you couldn’t think of anything. “Well, I mean,” you stared at him, puzzled, “what could I possibly help you with Crowley?”

He lazily pointed at you, keeping his grip on the scotch glass with his other fingers. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, dear.”

You didn’t respond. You knew he was about to go on one of his spiels that could have easily been explained in one sentence, but he always had to go above and beyond, showing off his impressive vocabulary.

“Y/N, you are aware the Lucifer, the one who your perfect, precious, all-days-are-good-hair-days Sam Winchester was locked in a cage with, is loose?”

You nodded.

“And you are aware that my mother, Rowena, about yay high,” he brought his free hand up to his chest, pointing his hand outward to show the height of his mother, “always wearing copious amounts of glittery eyeshadow, is missing as well, yes?”

You nodded once more, wishing he would just get with the program and tell you what he wants from you.

“I know that you and your denim wrapped lovers have her couped up in your little love nest.” He was referring to the dungeon at the bunker.

“Crowley,” you closed your eyes and gestured with his hands for him to stop talking, “just stop.” He opened his mouth to say something but you quickly cut him off. “Stop, I’m not listening to this. It’s absurd and doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, sweetheart.” He smirked and nodded for one of his minions to enter the room once more. The tall, dark haired demon approached you and you had enough trust in Crowley to hope he wouldn’t try and pull a stunt. That same trust was quickly ripped away once the demon grabbed you a pulled you into the room behind Crowley’s throne. The room was warded on the windows, and there was one item in the whole room - a chair.

You fought the demon as Crowley watched with a blank look on his face. You kicked and screamed as he swiftly lifted you up off the cold floor and threw you on the chair and quickly secured your wrists in the restraints. “You mother fucker!” You screamed at Crowley when the door shut loudly with a clang.

Your screams did not cease and the King of Hell was beginning to get irritated. He slammed the glass of aged alcohol down on the table next to his throne and got up. “Bloody hell!” He exclaimed, his voice echoing through the large room.

He opened the door to the room you were trapped in, smiling smugly at you. “Y/N, those screams may work for Moose and Squirrel but not me.” He walked towards you and crouched down and put a cloth in your mouth, trying it around your head. “This is going to stay here, and the next time you’re going to speak, is when you tell me where my mother is.”

He shut the door, and you cried into the makeshift gag that tasted like mold. Your legs were cold against the rusty metal, and the leather restraints were digging at your wrists. You didn’t want to look down, but you were almost positive that the restraints had broken the skin.

“Little fucking hellion,” Crowley sat back down on his throne, taking a deep breath.

Your cries and screams were muffled by the gag. Your only hope was that Sam and Dean were smart enough to find you, which they were.

“Sir,” a second demon walked into Crowley’s throne room hastily, somewhat panicked. “It’s the Winchesters.”

“Bollocks.” Crowley whispered, throwing his head back, resting against the red velvet of his throne. He had to act quickly, because if your boys saw you restrained and gagged, he would’ve quickly found a demon-knife plunged into his chest.

“We have to act quickly, my lord.” The demon that was standing behind him, the same one who manhandled you into your restraints said.

“Don’t!” Crowley shouted, but quickly gained his composure and calmly restated. “Don’t tell me what I need to do, I know.” He ran his cold, dry hand down his face and through his salt and pepper beard. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he stuck with the plan. The plan was just slightly expedited.

You must have dozed off because you snapped out of a light slumber as Crowley opened the door and walked in, the same demon yes man following closely behind him.

“Right,” he clapped his hands together and rested them at his crotch. “Change of plans, dear.” You didn’t speak, you just stared at him with rage and your blood boiled. “This is Cleon, and I’m sure the two of you are going to get well acquainted very, very soon.”

You tilted your head and raised your eyebrow in confusion as Crowley pulled the gag down and let it rest around your neck. “See you on the flip side darling.”

He walked backwards, away from you and Cleon. He watched intently as his demon lackey threw his head back and opened his mouth as wide as he could.

“Crowley, no!” You screamed as the black smoke entered your mouth. It burned your throat and you felt like you were choking on your own vomit. You couldn’t fight it. It was too late.

You had no peripheral vision now, but what you could see was crystal clear. You tried to speak but nothing came out. It was like you were trapped in a glass case.

“Do you remember the plan?” Crowley asked you. And just when you went to respond, something else came out.

“I remember, sir,”

Crowley smiled with triumph when your eyes flashed black, and back to normal.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said as he undid the restraints of the now meat suit that was your body.

@rebelminxy @maddiepants @idreamofplaid @leatherandapplepies @covered-byroses @closetspngirl @ladywinchester1967 @tiernayne @winchester-ofthe-lord @risingphoenix761 @dean-winchesters-bacon @demoninflannel 

[ick25]

Rockman.EXE Episode 30 Review.

I know, this doesn’t look good. RUN, ROCKMAN!

Don’t mess with Mama Zap!

We open the episode with some drunk bum walking around a city under the rain, who is then revealed to be Count Elec. This was cut out from the american dub, so the episode begins with him entering a mansion that seems to belong to him, still looking like a bum.

Count Elec is depressed because he basically lost his job at the World Three after Pharohman blew up their lair, and Wily is MIA.

The Count goes up some stairs where he is startled by a an old woman, after falling down the stairs the Count recognizes her as his mother.

Motherly love.

After the title card, we see Netto in a hurry to get somewhere, with Rockman running inside his PET.

Which is really adorable.

Turns out Netto is late to take a bus, and said bus leaves passing next to him. Rockman tells him that was their bus and Netto runs after it.

Rockman reminds Netto that even when traveling overseas he still sleeps in late. Netto says that his alarm clock didnt go off, but after saying this, the alarm activates which is a recording of his mom telling him to wake up.

Makes sense, since she doesn’t care enough to wake her own son up to go to school, he has to use a recording. “It’s the only thing that makes me feel like my mother loves me.”

The people in the bus laugh at Netto after this, and we cut to the Count looking at a grave stone in front of some ruins until his mother calls him back inside to eat some muffins she baked.

It looks like she knows everything about the World Three and how Rockman ruined their plans many times, because she tells him that Rockman’s operator is in Kingland just like them and that it’s his chance to get revenge.

Yeah... The Count’s mother also likes to play with electricity and zaps the muffin out of his hands. She proceeds to insult him saying that he is nothing like his older brother.

His brother plays a part in the game as well, but since he is not important right now, I’m not gonna talk about him yet.

We get to understand the Count’s issues, about how he was always compared to his brother and it was one of the reasons why he left home.

After seeing mama Elec zapping everything in the room, she finally hits the count who falls to the ground where she tells him that she has a plan to help him get revenge on Rockman’s operator.

Because a mother will always support you even in getting revenge on some Navi who foild your evil plans.

Back to Netto in the bus, he is reading a tour guide about a mysterious creature living in a lake, making me wonder if Kingland is suppoused to be Scotland, but I think it actually represents the United Kingdom as a whole.

Rockman, why are you so adorable today?

The weather outside suddenly turns dark and the bus begins to lose control.

Netto plugs into the bus computer and Rockman finds that it has been taken over by viruses. No idea how they got there, unless the bus is conected to the internet like everything else in this world, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

Rockman begins to delete viruses, but its now time for the obligatory “Hinouken not being where Netto is” gag.

Hey, India is famous for many other things.

We return from commercials with a shot of the bus under the rain. The driver tells Netto that the engine isn’t working for some reason and decides to leave the bus to find help. And I think it’s funny how there is a plush doll of Rush and a guy who looks like a member of KIZZ in the bus.

The driver leaves the bus, and soon after Netto sees Count Elec’s mansion. He decides to go to the mansion to look for a phone, the doors are open so he just lets himself in.

So basically Netto conects Rockman to disable the alarm system in the mansion. I feel there is something wrong with this, I mean, what would stop a burglar from breaking in and sending a Navi to stop the security?

As Netto looks for a phone he comes across some fallen over pictures, he tries to see them but an old woman stops him.

A very ugly old woman, is he pretending to be his own mom or something?

Netto asks for a phone and the Count points at an antique phone, where Mama Elec sees Netto for the first time.

Well, you don’t usually go around saying that you want to get revenge on a grade schooler for beating you in a video game.

The Count leaves Netto who wasn’t able to call anyone on the phone. Netto enters a ballroom where he remembers about Rockman, his PET shows static and the ballroom suddenly locks him in with a Net battle machine displaying Rockman trapped inside a dome.

Oh no, Rockman has been cutted in half! Oh, wait, its just a layering mistake.

The Count reveals himself before Netto, telling him that he will finally get his revenge on Rockman. 

Netto is surprised to see the Count in Kingland, but he accepts his challenge and plugs in after Count Elec sends in Elecman.

“This is the Elec Dome. Two Navis go in, one Navi comes out”

They start the battle, Elecman avoids Rockman’s buster shots and suddenly decides to use a judo move on him. Throwing Rockman against the wall activates an electric device above Netto that shocks him.

So everytime Rockman receives damage, Netto gets electricuted.

Is this a thing in Japan? Because this also happened in an episode of Pokemon.

Rockman reminds Netto about the strategy they used against Skullman, something the subs messed up.

This is what happens when people who don’t know anything about the show do the translation! Xc

Netto remembers and sends the Mini Bombs to Rockman who covers the whole area with smoke. Just like with Skullman, they trick Elecman into facing the Mini Bombs that explode in his face, shocking Count Elec.

Mama Elec doesnt like this however and we see her on the roof playing an electric guitar.

Like mother, like son, I guess.

This somehow sends powerful electrical shocks at both the Count and Netto who is rendered unconscious.

Netto getting knocked out distracts Rockman allowing Elecman to attack him.

Elecman is about to finish him with an Elec Sword, but just by pure luck, Netto’s mom alarm goes off inside his backpack waking him up and he inmediately sends a chip to Rockman who rolls out of the way and wins in the knick of a second

Elecman logs out, the Count’s mom yells and burns him to a crisp, and Netto turns off his alarm thanking his mom for actually doing something useful for once.

The storm dissapears and Netto returns to the bus ( that didn’t leave him for some reason) where he asks the driver about the engine. The driver says that the bus started working again as soon as the storm cleared out.

After this, we return to the Count who wakes up in the ruins from before and reveals a chilling fact.

:O WHAAAAAAAT?!

The Count believes that everything that happend so far was a dream. Madoi appears and tells the Count that Mahajarama is calling everyone together and asks him if he is going, after remembering some words his mama told him a long time ago, he accepts.

We then see Netto at lake Chantra where Rockman asks him if there was somebody else at the mansion because he heard a woman’s voice cheering for the Count. And to make things even weirder, the episode ends with a close up of the Lock Ness monster swimming in front of Netto who doesn’t notice it.

O.O

So what do I think?

This was an interesting episode, we learn more about Count Elec’s background. He comes from a wealty family in Kingland and left because he was tired of being compared to his older brother. As I said before, the Count’s brother is also a character in the game, but he will be introduced later in a future episode.

From a psychological point of view, this episode could’ve been about the Count having a hallucination or a very vivid dream caused by the alchohol and his depression, the World Three being destroyed made him lose his motivation and decides to return to his home in Kingland where times were much easier for him. His mother appearing represents his desire to find himself again and admitting that he wants revenge on Rockman for foiling his plans over and over. 

However, that wasn’t the case since Netto and Rockman saw the mansion too, and Rockman even heard Mama Elec’s voice during his battle with Elecman. This can only mean one thing, that ghosts exist in the anime’s universe too! Poor Rockman, his fear of ghosts makes sense now.

Yes, we’ve seen ghost appear sometimes in the game, so I guess this was a reference to those moments. In hindsight, it made sence. When she first appear, the Count was scared to death because he knew his mama was dead, and the scene with the Count trying to eat a muffin but his mom stopped him from eating it, hinted that the muffin wasn’t really there. When Netto was using the phone, he didn’t hear the Count’s mother talking to him from the staircase, and she even dissapeared when he looked back. The ruins were the remains of the mansion and the grave stone was his mother’s.

It makes sense that the Count believes it was all a dream, but what about Elecman? He was there during the battle, wouldn’t he confirm to the Count that it was all real? Looks like we will never know.

[glamorous-revenge]

Prank War

((Stepping away from current events but here is my submission for the @moana-party​ exchange! My prompt was from @lokifenokee​, who requested:

Tamatoa and Maui play pranks on each other.

Hope you enjoy!))

Tamatoa chuckled to himself as he dabbed his paintbrush into a nearby coconut shell. The young crab struggled a bit, since claws weren’t exactly suited for painting like this… But then again, making something that looked pretty wasn’t his aim here… He grinned as he looked up at his canvas: the sleeping face of a certain demigod. It had been covered in various swirls and markings… a fake tongue crudely drawn to look like it was hanging from his mouth… pupils drawn onto his eyelids to look in different directions… Truly a masterpiece already, but Tamatoa was determined to make it perfect before Maui woke up.

“This’ll show him,” he commented to himself as he drew large buck teeth.

Mini Maui raised an eyebrow from his spot on his host’s forearm. It took Tamatoa a while to notice, but the living tattoo was giving him a pretty impressive 'mom glare.’

“Hey, he started it! … I think… But he got me last month! It’s my turn!”

Mini Maui rolled his eyes, and his shoulders bounced with a silent but good-natured chuckle. He’d been stuck in the middle of this little prank war between Maui and Tamatoa for decades now. It had started out small, with sarcastic comments and little jokes at the others’ expense, but then the rivalry started to grow as the two got more competitive… Hiding gross things in the other’s food, popping out and startling the other… at one point Tamatoa stole Maui’s hook and leaves while he was out swimming.

That had been an interesting party.

Mini Maui moved toward Maui’s hand for a better look at the crab’s handiwork as Tamatoa continued painting… A dab here, a smudge there… Almost done! If the crab could just get one… more…

Suddenly, the sleeping demigod was engulfed in a flash of blinding blue light. Tamatoa screeched in alarm and scrambled backwards, only barely avoiding a set of wickedly sharp claws that swiped past his eyestalks. Maui was gone, and in his place towered a sloth monster from Lalotai! The markings on its mask flashed underneath a tangled mass of brown and black fur, and a shuddering, creaky battlecry rattled from somewhere underneath as it lunged forward.

The little crab continued fleeing backwards, but in his panic, Tamatoa didn’t notice a dip behind him, and tumbled as he lost his footing. He landed on his back in the algae-covered sand with a muffled thud, legs flailing uselessly, and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t right himself in time.

The creature loomed over him, crashing its paws against the ground at Tamatoa’s sides, earning frightened yelps with each strike. It growled and lifted its mask to reveal rows of sharp teeth, and threads of drool dripped on the terrified crab’s face... It leaned in, ready to finish off its prey...

Then broke out into peals of laughter.

“Got ya!”

Tamatoa blinked, fear giving way to confusion before morphing into annoyance as he realized what just happened.

“It wasn’t funny, Maui!” Tamatoa scolded. “You scared me!”

“Seemed pretty funny to me, Crabcake.”

“I told you already, it’s TAMATOA!”

Maui just shrugged, and effortlessly flipped the crab back right-side-up with his foot. Tamatoa hissed and tried to pinch the demigod’s tendon, but as usual, Maui just sauntered out of reach, and with a light zap turned back into his default humanoid form.

“Come on, Crabcake, ya gotta admit I got ya good,” he went on with a twirl of his fish hook. “Your prank was good too... Not as great, of course... 7/10 tops, but next time maybe make sure I’m actually asleep before ya get started. Save ya the effort and embarrassment of bein’ out-pranked again.”

Tamatoa huffed and crossed his arms. “If you were awake the whole time, then why’d ya let me paint you in the first place?”

“Make ya think ya won,” He wiped a black smudge away from his cheek. “Plus, it made scaring you all the more rewarding.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Love ya too, kid.” Maui grinned in the smuggest possible way, and knelt down. “Here, let me help ya clean that algae off of your shell.”

But Tamatoa skittered away from his hands. “Leave me alone.”

“Crabcake, I’m just trying ta-”

“I said leave me alone!” the crab spat, and stormed off into the nearby underbrush, leaving the demigod by himself on the beach.

Stars shined like crystals in the dark night sky as Maui hummed to himself in his hammock... another day of doing heroic deeds for the humans had come and gone, and the demigod was getting ready for some well-deserved Z’s...

... Or he would be if a certain tattoo wasn’t literally prickling in irritation on his chest.

“Are ya STILL not speaking to me?”

Mini Maui glared at his host, and with a silent snap of his fingers, a little representation of a sad Tamatoa appeared at his side. He picked up the little crab in his arms, though never broke eye-contact with his larger self.

Maui frowned. “Alright, look... that prank was over a week ago. Lil’ Crabcake’s gotten over it by now. He’s a tough little monster, he’ll be fine.”

Mini Maui didn’t seem convinced. He gave Mini Tama a few reassuring pats before setting him down on the clear skin beside him, and the little crab tattoo disappeared in a cartoonish cloud of smoke. Question marks popped up around Mini Maui as the tattoo pantomimed searching over the hills and trees of Maui’s other tattoos.

He gave Maui another pointed look; confident that his message had come across.

... That was true enough, actually... Maui hadn’t seen Tamatoa at all since that scare. He figured he was off doing his own... whatever crabs do during the day... but then again, Tamatoa almost always popped up again around during mealtimes, and Maui hadn’t seen chitin or antenna of him at all recently. He knew he wasn’t molting either, because he had just done a month or two ago...

He hoped the young monster was okay...

“Alright,” he huffed as he bounced up from his hammock. “If you’re so worried about ‘im, we’ll go find Crabcake. Happy?”

Mini Maui clearly saw through his host’s attempt to hide his true concerns about this, but nodded as he returned to his spot on Maui’s pectoral. The demigod himself grabbed his hook and hefted it onto his shoulder.

“Let’s see... if I were a crab,” he mumbled to himself, “where would I be?”

... ... ...

Well, simple enough to find out!

He tightened his grip, and in a flash of light, reappeared as a small monster crab himself. Maui didn’t use this form as much, so he took a moment to figure out the abilities this crab body had to offer, but almost immediately, his heightened senses caught a powerful odor lingering through the jungle.

His sensitive antennae twitched and recoiled... Whatever it was smelled awful, and his face twisted in disgust.

“Yeesh... Crabcakes can smell anything, can’t he?” Maui muttered, thankful that he couldn’t smell like this normally. “If a bug died anywhere on this entire island, I could probably smell it from here.”

A buzzing in his armor signified that Mini Maui was getting impatient.

“Right, right... Doesn’t matter right now... Gotta find the kid.”

And as much as he hated the idea, that smell was probably his best bet. Coconut crabs were scavengers, after all, and Tamatoa had never been different in that respect. Why, he could remember a time when-

His claw shot forward as Mini Maui invisibly tugged him toward the path.

“Alright! Alright! I’m going!“

Maui marched out into the thick brush, head high as his antennae bobbed and weaved to follow the scent. The light of his campfire slowly disappeared behind him as he delved further into the dark jungle, until only the light of the moon and the stars prevented him from bumping into trees and tripping over rocks.

He raised his hook-marked claw to his mouth. “Crabcakes!” Maui yelled out. “Come on, kid, where are ya?”

But there was no reply. He called out a few more times as he searched on, and the smell was growing stronger and stronger with each passing step.

Something felt off about all of this, but Maui pushed it to the back of his mind.

“If this is about scarin’ ya before, I didn’t mean to spook ya that bad, alright? Come back to camp.”

Still nothing... This was getting ridiculous... The island wasn’t that big in the first place, so where had the little guy run off to?

“I’m sorry alright? Is that what you’re looking for ya little-”

His foot suddenly struck against something buried in the sand, and as whatever it was shifted, the smell practically slapped Maui in the face. He gagged as he staggered backwards.

“Ugh... gross! Guess I found whatever reeks...” he commented to himself, and with another flash he was back in his humanoid form. Thankfully the smell wasn’t nearly as bad now, but whatever it was, it still felt like there was a rotting fish shoved up Maui’s nose.

Maui leaned down and pushed away more earth to get a closer look... but as more was cleared away, the demigod froze.

“... Wh... what?”

Shaky hands reached down and carefully removed the object... Maui gulped and his blood ran cold. He didn’t want to believe his eyes, but he recognized i immediately.

An all too familiar crab... limp and lifeless in Maui’s grip.

“Wh.. N-no!”

He tapped Tamatoa’s shell, gently at first, but more desperately as he went on, but there wasn’t a single flicker of movement throughout the monster’s body.

He spun it to face him, practically shouting now as he dropped to his knees. “Crabcake, wake up! You can’t be... I-I mean I just-... You’ve only been on your own a week!”

Still no response.

Maui barely even registered the smell anymore, even as it hung around him now like a fog. One phrase kept screaming at the front of his mind, even drowning out his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

‘This is your fault.’

“... Maui...”

Again, the demigod froze, though a shiver shot right up his spine as a quiet voice called out to him.

“Maaaaaaauuuuiiiiiii...”

He looked up, just as a glowing figure stepped out of the surrounding undergrowth... One that looked just like his fallen friend. It stared at Maui unblinking, and slowly shuffled forward with a single claw outstretched.

Maui screeched, and dropped the body as he tried to retreat, but his foot caught on an exposed root, and he landed backwards with a heavy thud. The demigod could only watch in horror as the ghost-like creature hoisted itself onto the his stomach. Maui couldn’t get himself to move, and as the little crab got closer to his face, he clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut.

A claw caressed his cheek, and the ghost leaned in toward Maui’s ear...

“... Got ya!”

Maui’s eyes flew back open, and the crab on his chest burst out into uproarious laughter as he tumbled back into the sand.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!”

“Crabcake?” Maui blinked. “You’re alive!?”

“Of course I am!” Tamatoa smiled. “But I scared ya, didn’t I?”

A beat... A frown... then a furious growl.

“... KID, WHAT THE HELL!?”

Tamatoa yelped as Maui suddenly got up to his feet. The demigod’s cheeks burned bright maroon as he glared down at the monster.

“I thought you were DEAD!”

“But I wasn’t!” he smiled proudly. “I pranked you and you fell for it!”

“No! You crossed a line there! Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!”

The little crab frowned, tilting his head like a confused puppy as he took a tentative step back. “You... You scared me last time... how is this different?”

“Because I thought you had DIED! Can’t you see that!? You had me worried sick and I-”

Maui suddenly stopped as Tamatoa let out a weak whimper... Right... he was shouting at the equivalent of a small child, wasn’t he? ... Granted one that was over half a century old and covered in chitin, but Tamatoa was still a little kid.

He took a deep breath through his nose and folded his hands together.

“... Because I was worried about you, kid... I thought for a second there that I’d never see you again, and... And I thought it was my fault... If something ever really happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Tamatoa blinked, but said nothing, so Maui continued.

“It’s just different, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“... Okay...” Tamatoa mumbled, muffling an embarrassed chirp as he lowered himself into the sand.

Maui felt a sharp slap against his chest. Mini Maui frowned at him, tapping his foot in a clear sign of disappointment before he gestured back to Tamatoa.

The kid hadn’t meant to scare him THAT badly, after all... He thought he was just playing along... And in retrospect, he must’ve put a ton of work into it... Maui couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen the little monster put that much effort into anything.

...

The demigod sighed again. No use making him feel any worse about it. Maybe he could turn this around.

“... So how’d you do it?”

Tamatoa’s antennae perked back up. “What?”

“How’d you pull off the prank? You must’ve been planning this for a while.” Maui picked up the decoy crab and held it out. “Like this... Is this one of your old molts?”

Tamatoa nodded and tapped the decoy’s hollow face. “Yeah. I kept this one the last time I shed my armor.”

“But... it smells like death... You’ve dragged your old shells around before and they never smelled THIS bad!”

“Oh! Here, I’ll show you!” He reached inside the old shell and pulled out a much smaller and very dead surface crab. “Caught it earlier this week,” he chuckled as he tossed it up and caught it in his jaws. “Wanted to make sure it was extra rotten and stinky so you’d find it,” he explained through a full mouth.

Ugh... Monster table manners... Go figure...

“Alright,” Maui tossed the shell aside, “but what about the glowing? How’d you pull that off?”

“Easy!” The crab grabbed a nearby leaf and wiped his face. The green glow was smeared away, save for his natural bioluminescent markings, and he held out the leaf to Maui. “Remember that algae I tripped in after you jumped at me? Turns out it glows at night. Made me look like a ghost!”

Tamatoa was beaming again. He was so proud of himself for finally scaring Maui back... And the demigod had to admit he was impressed, even if it had scared him half to death. He took a deep breath, and managed a laugh as he pulled the crab in close and affectionately noogied his head with a single knuckle.

“Well, Tamatoa,” he smirked. “I think it’s safe to say you won that round. Now never do it again.”

The young monster’s eyes sparkled even as he swatted Maui’s hand away. “You used my name!”

“Yeah, yeah, but you’re still ‘Crabcake’ to me, kid... Speakin’ a which though, you must still be hungry... Can’t imagine that rotten crab tasted good.” He lifted Tamatoa onto his shoulder. “Let’s get you back to camp.”

“Mm-hmm!”

The little crab held on tightly, and rubbed his cheek against Maui’s as they wandered back to the clearing.

“Hey... If you think that was good, I can’t wait to show you my next prank!”

"... How about instead we call truce, kid?”

[popcultureliterary]

Verbal and Situational Irony: Putting the Funny in Futurama

Narratives of all types, from books to cartoons, utilize multiple literary devices in order to craft engaging experiences for their audience. Today, we’re taking a look at one of these literary devices, irony, and we’re using Matt Groening’s Futurama to do it!

Why Futurama? Comedy shows offer many great examples of irony, often taking advantage of this literary device in order to produce hilarious or unexpected outcomes. Futurama is especially good at using it, and even talks about it by name in the episode “The Devil’s Hands are Idle Playthings.”

What is Irony?

You’ll often see irony defined as a situation where the outcome is the opposite of what was expected, or as a difference between expectation and reality. I personally have never found these particular descriptors to be overly helpful. The Oxford English Dictionary offers a fairly comprehensive definition:

“A state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what was or might be expected; an outcome cruelly, humorously, or strangely at odds with assumptions or expectations.”

The OED also offers wording that calls it a type of “feigned ignorance,” if that helps you get a better grasp on this slippery definition.

Authors and creators use this device in order to add layers of meaning and interest to their work. It is especially useful for creating humorous situations, emphasizing truths, or implying contempt for a situation, concept, or person. Irony also creates situations in the work that make the audience think and use their imagination in order to understand the truth. Sure, the creator of a particular work could come out and say what they actually mean without using it, but that wouldn’t be as fun for the audience.

There are a few different types to familiarize yourself with, the three most common being verbal, situational, and dramatic irony. These three literary devices are similar, while also managing to be fairly distinct from one another. Remembering the differences is where it gets tricky for many people. Today, we’re tackling verbal and situational, but keep an eye out in the near future for a post about the dramatic type!

Verbal Irony: Saying What You Don’t Mean

The Encyclopedia Britannica offers an excellent definition of verbal irony, calling it wording where “the real meaning is concealed or contradicted by the literal meanings of the words.”

Bender also offers a fine definition in this video: https://youtu.be/-x0vMpFMQF4 (which you can find at the bottom of this post!)

Verbal irony is when someone says one thing, but they really mean something else. The “something else” is usually the opposite of the literal meaning of the words used. If I say that my friend’s hands are as warm as frozen lake water, I’m using irony to let you know that my friend’s hands are freezing cold (bonus example: they probably don’t need to see a doctor about that, it’s a completely normal temperature for human hands). As you might have guessed from the(se) example(s), this literary device can take many forms, from  things like metaphors and similes to statements.

What About Sarcasm?

Earlier, I mentioned that irony is often used to imply contempt, which really comes into play for sarcasm. Sarcasm tends to be a point of division for many people, however. While some people consider sarcasm to be a form of irony because it is language that means the opposite of its literal definition, others argue that it isn’t related. You’ll have to make up your own mind on where you think sarcasm belongs.

Situational Irony

A situation where you expected (or desired) one outcome, and an opposite one resulted is an example of situational irony. It is a reversal of expectations, in a way. As mentioned before, Futurama does an excellent job of using it to pull off memorable gags. Just think about all of the times that Leela suddenly goes from fighting for a good cause to fighting against that cause, or the times when her good intentions result in an outcome that is opposite to what she was aiming for. (Think about the time she tries to save the Popplers and ends up on the menu herself, or that time she made a “save the fox” sign and then tried to murder the fox with said sign after the little furball wrecked her hand-crafted sign.)

In “The Deep South,” we see another example when Dr. Zoidberg finally gets a home of his own. The Planet Express crew is trapped at the bottom of the ocean, but things are finally looking up for Dr. Zoidberg (Hooray for Zoidberg)! Unfortunately, his triumph is short lived. His home mysteriously burns down despite being under water. Of course, an underwater home burning down is the opposite of what anybody might have anticipated.

The episode “In-A-Gadda-Da-Leela” offers an example using Zap Branigan. Throughout the whole series, Zap tries his hardest to entice Leela to his bedroom. His efforts are generally always fruitless because Leela has no interest in the captain who is as misogynistic as he is unqualified. When he manages to trick Leela into believing they’re the last humans in the universe, he finally almost succeeds in seducing her before she catches on.

As Zap’s plans fall apart, the V-GINY spacecraft arrives and threatens to destroy the planet unless they consummate what it believes is a relationship based on love. At this moment, Leela begrudgingly accepts, but Zap suddenly develops stage fright despite getting what he’s always after. Given what we know about Zap Branigan, we as the audience would have expected an opposite outcome, where Leela says no and Zap is ready and willing to do what he must to protect the planet.

Let’s once more give a nod to the episode “The Devil’s Hands are Idle Playthings” to see a few other fine examples.

When the Robot Devil grows tired of watching Fry’s opera, he leaps up onto the stage and exclaimed “You can’t just make the characters say how they feel!” It is apparent that in addition to disliking being made a mockery on the stage, Robot Devil holds a fine appreciation for the arts and might tell Fry a thing or two about how to write a play. That is the expectation, at least, but then the Robot Devil follows up his statement with “That makes me feel angry!” His outburst demonstrates situational irony because the audience likely didn’t expect him to express how he feels after saying that characters shouldn’t do that.

My favorite example from the whole episode occurs near the beginning. As Fry and Bender wait for the Robot Devil’s massive wheel of misfortune to finish spinning and tell Fry what poor robot he will get hands from, there are many hints that Fry will receive Bender’s hands. Audiences familiar with this type of scenario might assume that Bender and Fry will switch hands because that’s usually what happens when this type of plot plays out. The expectation is further solidified by the verbal and visual hints dropped throughout the scene.

Unfortunately for the Robot Devil, an ironic twist leads to him switching hands with Fry instead. Frustrated with the whole outcome, he shouts about the irony of the situation, to which bender responds “that’s not ironic, it’s just coincidental.” Bender’s line here adds multiple layers to the irony that’s just been dropped.

Bender is both correct and mistaken when he says it is just coincidence. From a narrative perspective, Bender is wrong. The situation is absolutely a reversal of the expectations built by the episode and other stories following similar plots. The audience likely expect Bender and Fry to swap hands, and the results are the opposite of what is anticipated.

In what way is Bender right, you might ask. Let’s imagine being in Bender and Fry’s shoes. The pair have no expectations about the outcome of the Robot Devil’s wheel because they are unaware of the narrative techniques and hints telling the audience what to expect. They don’t have any expectations, so the outcome isn’t ironic in any way for them, and comes off as mere coincidence. This detail might say something about the Robot Devil’s awareness of how their narrative-driven universe works. (For audience members who didn’t pick up on the hints about Fry receiving Bender’s hands, or who thought that Fry would receive the Robot Devil’s hands due to the title of the episode, this scene might not come across as ironic either).

That’s Not Ironic, It’s Just Mean!

Keep in mind that irony isn’t just the occurrence of something unfortunate as the result of something else. It is important to remember that situational irony is specifically a situation where there is a reversal of expectation, and the result of a situation is the opposite of what was expected.

Let’s take a look at an example from “30% Iron Chef,” where Bender tries to turn his horrible cooking skills into something noteworthy. While on his quest, Bender meets an elderly hobo who used to be a well-known TV chef. Bender makes a meal for this man that ends up killing him.

If this was all there was to the scene, this would not be an example of irony at all. It’s just a depressing outcome of a situation. There is no reversal of expectations to be had here, other than the expectation that eating food won’t usually kill people.

There is irony to be found in the scene, however, when you add in the details that I left out! Prior to the deadly meal, the elderly ex-chef trains Bender on how to be a better chef. Usually, a lengthy montage like this brings about improvement in the trained skill, which leads audience members to expect this type of change to occur. The fact that Bender’s skills don’t improve at all (and might even have gone backwards) is a reversal of what we would ordinarily expect. The hobo’s death is not ironic on its own, but it is ironic that even after all of that training from an experienced and confident teacher, Bender’s food is deadly.

I Was Being Ironic

People often use irony in the real world as well. It is most often used in order to prove a point or make a bold statement. If someone wrote a song about how horrible music is, their song would be purposefully ironic because they used music to make their statement. Likewise, someone who creates an infographic about how worthless infographics are is purposefully using irony to make their point.

Take a Breather

Irony enhances narratives so that creators and authors can express comedy, contrast reality and expectation, or make memorable statements about what they believe to be true. It’s a useful tool, and does a lot to engage the audience and make them think about the intended meaning.

Today, we looked at two common types: verbal and situational. These forms appear often in narratives, but they can also be used in real life. These aren’t the only types of irony that you’ll need to know, however. Keep an eye out for a future post talking about a third type: dramatic irony.

In the meantime, if you’re looking for other resources to help you gain a stronger understanding of this literary device, I’d like to point you in the direction of a clever infographic by The Oatmeal.

Do you have a favorite example of irony from Futurama or other pop culture works? Share them in the comments! You can also connect on Twitter at @Popliterary, or send a message.