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kaminocasey · 5 months

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25 Days of Life Day: Day 8 - Making Gingerbread Houses with Tech

Summary: You're not very good at making gingerbread houses, or patient, but Tech surprisingly is.

A/N: Sorry, I know this one is a bit shorter than the others!! It's been a day lol.

“Actually, darling… it’s supposed to go this way.” Tech tells you, reaching over the table to fix the way that the gingerbread wall is facing.

You groan, irritated with yourself. “I’m not an architect.”

Tech gives you a small smile, amused. “Of that, I am aware. But, you are sufficient with detail.” He puts his finger up matter-of-factly.

You shrug, deflated. “If you say so.” You’d been trying and failing miserably at putting the Gingerbread house together for the last hour. So much so that it was starting to be too annoying so you decide to just sit and watch Tech get in the zone as he does his. You happily watch as he adds more and more walls and you start to wonder what he’s actually doing until it starts to take shape as an incredibly intricate small mansion with windows and a beautiful tower top.

“Wow.” You murmur, beyond amazed at the creativity that you didn’t expect Tech to have in him.

“What is it?” He asks, pushing his goggles back up on the bridge of his nose when he looks up at you.

“You. You’re incredible.” Your lips are parted in amazement.

“No need to act surprised.” He goes back to decorating and you smile.

That’s the thing, though. You’re never surprised with Tech. He’s a creature of habit. Which you don’t mind one bit, because you can be the same way. But this… this is new. You weren’t expecting him to be so good at it. But you suppose coming at it from a mathematical and systematic angle, it makes sense. But the absolute detail of frosting and gumdrops is what surprises you, really.

“Here…” Tech reaches over and ices the edges and puts them together so that you can start decorating.

You can’t help but smile. He’s always taking care of you in these little ways that never cease to make your chest tighten and warm your insides. How thoughtful he accidentally is.

“Thank you.” You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, making him go warm in the face.

“Of course, darling.” He murmurs, smiling ever so softly.

What you don’t know is that Tech genuinely enjoys doing these things with you, even if he doesn’t seem like it or seems indifferent toward it. The smile on your face alone makes it worth it to him.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#25 Days of Life Day #25 Days of Life Day 2023 #tbb tech #tech badbatch #tbb tech x reader #x reader

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master-of-stupidity · 8 days

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Fuck it gonna put all my Tangled rants into a single thread that I'll just continue on if needed-

Oldest to newest btww (also spoilers most of these r about Eugene btw ik ik I'm a lil autistic spare me 💀)

That one part of Bruno is Orange but Eugene coded-

"Did you hear about that Father

Sent his own infant son away

And said "It's to *dangerous* for

you to stay so, I had to *save* you" "

I may be cringe but I am FREE

Yo omg ok so my brother is singin a Into the Woods song while I look at Tangled stuff n it made me remember a scene from the play where Gothel yells at the Prince "Rapunzel can think for herself!" n like- dude Cass said the same thing in Cassandra's Revenge to Eugene! Ooo girlll-

The way I would kill so many ppl if it meant getting a series about Lance n Eugene as kids like broooo imagineee-

Its crazy how like I'll be enjoying my day than suddenly I'll see a post of a mf going "Hey what if Eugene thought he was a yr younger cuz he was like a rlly scrawny kid?" Yeah ok sure n what if I hit u with a *metal pole*

My tangled ocs r so random its hilarious- like it goes from a bodyguard,a greedy businessman,a ringleader,n than that one serial killer who turns ppl into meat pies like how did we get here???? 😭🙏

I just remembered like just a few days ago my brother randomly said "vase" while playing Fortnite n my ass just said "vAHse" just to fck w/ him n like that kinda reminded me of that one scene of Eugene n Cass like damn they were sibling coded frrr lmao I miss em

Wdym there was a scrapped Eugene n Lance childhood episode??🧍And WDYM it's literally everything I ever wished for and more???????? 😃

Would love to see Eugene n Martin Kratt interact solely to see Martin be appalled n slowly lose his mind over how Eugene knows jackshit about animals 💀🙏

I think the Eugene genderbends look so weird to me because none of them kept the infamous goatee like cmon man don't be a coward give that girl some facial hair 🗣🗣

I should not be relating Heather's music to scenes from Tangled the Series yet here we r 😭

Omggg thinking about how Eugene proposing to Rapunzel in tts came from his abandonment issues n him literally not being able to see a life without Rapunzel omgg shut upppp leave me ALONEEE

Literally despise with every fiber of my being how the writers of the shitty Wreck it Ralph 2 movie had fcking RAPUNZEL of all ppl say "Do ppl assume all ur problems were solved just because a big strong man showed up?" They fcking HATEE the movie Tangled *so much* bro istggg

OMFG THE VOICE OF KING FREDRIC FROM TANGLED IS MR. FCKING KRABS WHAT?????

The way I wanna be bold n talk more about the "Over the Corona Walls" ep- esp about Staylan n Eugene n all the icky implications of that but I'm also so scared too cuz I fear ppl won't take me seriously or think I'm overanalyzing too much 😭🙏

Lowkey not over the fact Eugene was willing to trap himself back in an abusive relationship, "leaving" the one person he HAS died for n would die for again, all to save his best friend like bro don't TALK TO MEEEE

As u can tell I am totally normal n not at all ill about Eugene or this show 😁

What if I gave Eugene like- slight wedding trauma after the whole "Beyond the Corona Walls" incident??? I think it'd be kinda cool n in character ngll 🤭🤭

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tangledbea · 8 months

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I have noticed one thing, whenever Eugene is the first to initiate the kiss, it never happens. Like in the movie boat scene, tbea beginning when they get interrupted by Cass and in that tangled shorts make me smile.

That's only three times. There's plenty of time when he initiates a kiss and it does happen. Like this one, which is also them full on making out for several seconds (even though the camera cuts away, and when it cuts back it's zoomed way out).

But yeah, "Eugene doesn't get to complete the kiss," is a fairly common gag.

#Tangled #Tangled the Series #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel #New Dream #TTS #Beyond the Corona Walls #Screencaps #Answered

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nerdasaurus1200 · 5 months

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Thanks to reading Rise of Flynn Rider for the millionth time I'm now picturing an au where the gang actually finds Miss Clare during Beyond the Corona Walls and she's just with them for the rest of season 2. She scolds Eugene and Lance for running off, then gives them a teary eyed welcome home. She gets to meet Rapunzel and give her the stamp of approval (cause let's be real, Rapunzel would be SO psyched to meet the woman who's basically Eugene's mom). And of course, Cass and maybe Hook Foot too beg for all the embarrassing kid Eugene stories.

#tts #rta #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #nerd talks #cassandra #rapunzel #lance strongbow #eugene fitzherbert #miss clare #hook foot

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disneyfanatic1993 · 1 year

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Alchemist Out Of Corona: Beyond the Corona Walls, Part 4

All art from the chapter of my fanfic, “Beyond the Corona Walls, Part 4/6.”

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rhmis-user-2020 · 7 months

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Adira keeps Punzie's frying pan

#tangled the series #tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rapunzel's frying pan #tts adira #adira #beyond the corona walls

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dungeonmastertyrant · 4 months

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Cleric (Light Domain)

Light Domain spells

Cleric Level 1: Burning hands and Faerie Fire

Cleric Level 3: Flaming sphere and Scorching ray

Cleric level 5: Daylight and Fireball

Cleric level 7: Guardian of Faith and Wall of Fire

Cleric level 9: Flame Strike and Scrying

Bonus Cantrip: When you choose this domain at level 1 you gain the cantrip light if you don't already know it.

Warding Flare: Also at 1st level you interpose divine light between yourself and an attacking enemy. When you are attacked by a creature within 30 feet of you that you can see you can use your reaction to impose disadvantage on the attack roll causing light to flare before the attack hits or misses. An attacker that can't be blinded is immune to this feature. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your wisdom modifier (a minimum of once.) You regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

Channel Divinity: Radiance of the Dawn: Starting at 2nd level you can use your channel divinity to harness sunlight banishing darkness and dealing radiant damage to your foes. As an action you present your holy symbol and any magical darkness within 30 feet of you is dispelled. Additionally each hostile creature within 30 feet of you must make a Constitution saving throw. A creature takes radiant damage equal to 2d10+ your Cleric level on a failed save and half as much damage on a successful one. A creature that has total cover from you is unaffected.

Improved Flare: Starting at 6th level you can also use Warding Flare when a creature that you can see within 30 feet of you attacks a creature other than you.

Potent Spellcasting: Starting at 8th level you add your Wisdom modifier to the damage you deal with any Cleric cantrip.

Corona of Light: Starting at 17th level you can use your action to activate an aura of sunlight that lasts for 1 minute or until you dismiss it using another action. You emit bright light in a 60 foot radius and dim light 30 feet beyond that. Your enemies in the bright light have disadvantage on saving throws against spells that deal fire or radiant damage.

Gods in the light domain their alignment and their symbol:

Helm LN Staring eye on upright left gauntlet, Lathander NG Road traveling into a sunrise, Milil NG Five stringed harp made of leaves, Sune CG Pair of eyes surrounded by seven stars, Pelor NG Sun, Pholtus LG Silver sun or full moon partially eclipsed by a small crescent moon, Branchala NG Bard's harp, Dol Arrah LG Rising sun, The silver flame LG Flame drawn on silver or molded from silver, The path of light LN Brilliant crystal, Corellon Larethian CG Quarter moon or starburst, Belenus NG Solar disk and standing stones, Aphrodite CG Sea shell, Apollo CG Lyre, Re-Horakhty LG Solar disk encircled by serpent, Hathor NG Horned cow's head with lunar disk, Balder NG Gem encrusted silver chalice, Forseti N Head of a bearded man, Frey NG Ice blue greatsword, Frigga N Cat, Heimdall LG Curling musical horn, Odur CG Solar disk

Source: Player's handbook

#dnd class #cleric

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space--butterflies · 7 months

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I did it... it's finally done... I.... don't look at me i'm having a moment

#tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #space writes #beyond coronas walls

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raykittykatdragon · 10 months

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Not mine just like sharing fanfics that I fin and making sure everyone give the rightful author some well deserved love

#tangled the series #tts #fanfic #tangled the series varian #tts varian #varian #moon varian #moonstone varian #ao3

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thenightmarketofdathomir · 2 years

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This Fic is Cursed [Re-release]

Title: This Fic is Cursed Pairings: Feral x Reader, Savage Opress x Reader, Maul x Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11,518 words Warnings: P in V (bareback), dirty talk, inappropriate use of the Force, rough sex, masturbation, blindfolding, size kink, anal play, bondage/suspension, dominance play/choking, pet names, praise kink, a soupçon of degradation, Force-created sex toys, makeshift gags, alien biology, creepy dolls Notes: All three readers are AFAB Cis

Summary: A cursed bedroom, a creepy doll collection, and three Opress brothers seeking some private time with their respective partners. Unfortunately, no one told them the bedroom on the fourth floor doesn't unlock from the inside. Nothing bad can happen, right?

Excerpt Below or Read it on Ao3 >

i. Feral

—

“It’s vaguely oppressive,” Feral says, which is about as much precaution as you’ll get. He hesitates a second, hand on the worn brass knob of the second bedroom on the third floor set into the only stretch of wall that isn’t showing the wounds of their restoration work. “Mother gave us specific instructions in her will about this room in particular — we weren’t to disturb it. Supposed to be left as-is.” He glances at you. “A condition of the inheritance.”

“So of course it’s the first thing you went and mucked about in,” you tell him.

Feral gives you a winning smile.

You know how they all felt about Talzin, in the end.

“She always did like to meddle; very domineering woman — couldn’t leave us well enough alone. Never satisfied with our life’s choices,” he says, gesturing. “This is just a bit of —“

“Retaliatory post-mortem payback,” you surmise. “Colour me unsurprised.”

The door is white, and the ghost of an old plaque belonging to its previous owner has left a corona of dirt.

“What’s she going to do?” Feral asks. “Reach beyond the grave to impart one further lesson to her darling children?”

He scoffs, and falls to stillness — seeing your hesitation.

“Are you sure about this? Because we can sleep in the parlour —”

“Not with the rancor in there.”

His shoulders hunch, and showing a flash of teeth, Feral drops a palm to your shoulder, giving you an indulgent look that leaves you a little heated.

“I can guarantee that at least that thing is less creepy than what’s in here. Besides, it’s not a rancor anymore. It’s just a head.”

It’s the only private room in the whole four-floor Victorian. While Maul or Savage might not care so much about sleeping with their asses out between walls torn down and doors off their hinges, this is the only private time you and Feral are gonna get this weekend. So kark the parlour.

“Taxidermed animals are pretty high up there on the creepy spectrum.” You gesture vaguely at your face. “Something about the eyes. It’s like they’re watching you.”

Feral doesn’t have eyebrows, but there’s a slightly manic glimmer about him when he flashes his teeth, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry, love.” He pulls you in, brushing his lips over your temple, sticking you with a firm smooch, and dropping to breathe into your ear — heavy with suggestion: “I’ll protect you.”

You poke him in the side for good measure, but he holds you close enough for you to huff the light oakmoss scent of him through his shirt: a little cream and a little cardamom beneath laundry detergent; mischief passed off as some innocent youngest brother bantha pudu.

He pulls back, and makes you promise: “No take backs.”

But your yeah yeah is forgotten as he crowds in after you when he opens the door. You’re already in the room before the overhead light crackles and pops to life, but by then it’s too late: he’s shutting the door after him, locking you into this time capsule that makes no logical sense when set against the rest of the house.

“Whatthekark,” you breathe, but your fate is sealed when he squeezes your hip, pulling you with him into the centre of a powder pink and lace-fluffed horror show.

ii. Savage

—

There’s a dangling chandelier in the centre of the ceiling, placed equidistant from the twin bed with the brass curlicues ornamenting the head and the foot, the child’s vanity with its little mirror and bench, and the overstuffed toy box.

The chandelier tinkles, sending sparkles of refracted light around the shelves that line the room, little rainbow colours trapped between posters and photographs clipped out of Tiger Beat and Seventeen magazine.

“Feral came in here?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

You’re still staring. And the room stares back with hundreds of eyes: glass and beaded and plastic, all colours and shapes, and some are buttons.

You hover in the threshold, considering how Savage’s bulk swallows up so much space that he hulks over a bit, looking decidedly uncomfortable, and now you’re unsure.

“I thought he did, but it’s not like you can hide two people in that closet.”

There are ruffles on the valance. Ruffles on the bedskirt. Ruffles lining the window curtains.

“Your mother had some really… interesting decorative tastes.”

Savage’s frown deepens. “Talzin always wanted a daughter,” he mutters. “We disappointed her in more ways than one.”

You recognize some of people featured on the walls — far younger versions of older actors, and some bands you’ve never heard of — but you’re shaking your head, even as Savage’s horns tangle in the fixture.

He winces, hunching into himself, but the damage is done. Ensnared, he stares at you, bent necked and resigned to exasperation. It’s almost sweet. You do not giggle. Instead, you drag the bench out from the vanity, hauling yourself up to eye-level with him to try and work the beaded pearls out of his horns from the dangly bits.

“I think you turned out alright,” you tell him. “You even look cute in her old apron.”

It was pink and it had frills, and barely cinched around his waist, but Savage had worn it diligently while flipping pancakes that morning at the tiny gas stove in the ancient kitchen.

He mutters, “Mother would be thrilled. It’s a small mercy she isn’t watching over us all, still.”

A large hand steadies you over the hip, fingers notching into your belt loops and back pocket: large enough to wrap around most of your thigh on a good day, and heavy enough to leave a lasting mark; soul-exit-body-style if he thinks you’ve earned a good spank.

You lift a shoulder in a shrug. “I thought you liked showing me off?”

His frown deepens.

You suppress a snicker: “Maybe not in front of dear old mom.”

“The dead of Dathomir are often quite persuasive, especially its witches.” He purses his lips. “We are fortunate she left no unfinished business; no further imparted wisdom for our… predilections.”

You arch an eyebrow, your fingers working out the last knots.

Savage squeezes, and you warm to the attention — the dip of his gaze to your legs as it spindles lower.

“Oh,” you say, smiling. “Your lifestyle choices.”

The door clicks shut behind you with a muted snap of the lock, and you don’t think anything of it.

Savage’s gaze sharpens, going still the longer you dither.

“How much longer, little one?”

“Just hold still.”

His gaze slides away and beyond you, and your tiny fingers do what his could not: unknotting the shimmery bits of jewelled plastic that have tangled through his horns like gaudy Life Day ornaments from the 80s.

His rumble of displeasure swirls low in your belly, rough with menace that you’re accustomed to. “Why are you smiling?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I can’t get it all out,” you tell him. “But you do look adorable.”

If Savage’s grip tightens on your hip any more, you’d grit your teeth. The big guy knows you like it rough, but sometimes the foreplay gets started a little early.

“Handsome?” you try again.

“Please hurry,” he says. “The dolls are watching me.”

Setting your hands on his shoulders, you peer around the room, unconcerned by the collection of stuffed animals and antique dolls: shelves upon shelves worth, they pour up the walls all the way to the ceiling, piled in tiered stacks up the tiny bed, ruffles and rumples and pretty porcelain faces all serene and indifferent to the two intruders in their midst.

“They’re just toys, Savage.”

“They outnumber us,” he murmurs, and if there’s something ominous in it, you’re distracted as he picks you up and deposits you on the floor gently, warm hands lingering on your body. When you take his hands in yours, you smile up at him, pressing into his stomach and giving him a coy look that usually endears you to him.

Savage’s mouth takes a downturn at the corners.

“You are not seducing me here.”

You wink. “It’s private, at least.”

“It’s creepy.” He leans down, considering, and withdraws before he can give in, eyes narrowed.

You smile, indulgent, and entirely too smart for your own good.

“There’s a bathroom with a locking door on the second floor?” you offer, tentative, but your fingers are wandering — creeping down to cup the bulge in his shorts, semi-erect already and pressing against khaki.

He stiffens, a low rumble of interest building in him at your touch.

“But it’s a whole two floors away, and —” You pluck at your top, revealing the hint of a fleshy swell that you know he can’t resist. “There’s a bed right here.”

Savage sniffs, his expression darkening as he leans in. When he growls, it’s a sensation that begins in his belly, rumbling through the points of connection between your bodies, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the tinkle of his chandelier-made-tiara. He practically huffs, rolling his eyes upward, and then back to you as those large hands descend to cup your bottom, dragging you up to the tips of your toes so that you’re pressed against him, your ass a kneadable, tender thing begging for reprimand.

“Impatient, again,” he murmurs. “Or teasing, you insatiable creature. Indifferent to where and when I fuck you. Shameless, utterly.”

Savage squeezes, and you suck in a fluttery breath, pressing your hands to his chest.

“Never knew you were so sensitive,” you manage, trying to regulate your breathing as that rumble of his discontentment becomes a challenge. “Or such a tipyip.”

He stills in that expectant, assessing way you so love when you’ve put exactly one toe out of line.

The slash of his smile leaves you simultaneously shivering and heated by his attention as he rolls you against his thigh, folded around him as if his knee wasn’t adding the exact right sort of pressure in the exact right place to break you into a thousand bitty pieces at his prompting.

Folding over you, his hand brushes your breast on its journey to your throat, cupping you just beneath the chin in a hold not meant to choke, though he could snuff the blood flow to your brain to leave you pliant and quivering. A good Top knows what they’re doing, and Savage is no slouch.

“Brat,” he murmurs, mouth brushing yours, his hot breath on your face. “I should put you over my knee.”

Your eyes flutter shut, tasting the very air he breathes, fingers curled into his teeshirt, the pressure between your thighs absolutely maddening when he offers just a bit of friction.

“Promises, promises,” you manage. “You could make your point in other ways,” you suggest innocently. “Maybe even change up your thinking.”

Savage bares his teeth; the warning fades into a slash of a smile.

“Do tell me.”

“You already have a toy of your own,” you tell him, breathy. Savage stills, his nostrils flaring as your meaning registers.

“Don’t you want to play with me?”

He ‘hmphs,’ amused, and leans in to lick at your mouth, withdrawing before you can kiss him back, satisfied to see your nipples peaked and pebbled beneath your shirt. There’s a wet spot on his knee. Your skirt is practically hiked up to your waist. But you’re not asking how that happened.

The jewels between his horns tinkle again, and Savage shuts his eyes briefly in exasperation.

You have to bite back a giggle.

“Go now, before I chase you down,” he orders, but you’re already at the door.

The handle slides and clacks back into place. Old house. Old fixtures. Not the first time this has happened — just yesterday, Feral’s attempts with the kitchen pantry got it stuck so thoroughly that Maul had to kick it in.

When you try again and it doesn’t open, you know for certain:

“We’re locked in.”

iii. Maul

—

Two hits: Maul’s heel to the door, and the door crunching into plaster as it strikes the wall. The muffled whumps and muted squeaks of toys hitting the carpet don’t immediately register, because he’s breathing for you, thumb and forefinger notched into the waistband of your jeans, popping open the topmost button; the other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he takes a taste of your mouth.

It’s a hungry kiss, built on breath and secret smiles, a brush of lips and trailing fingertips when you got too close and he just watched with that darkening interest that caged you in before you ducked out.

He chased you up two flights of stairs.

But rather than crumple on the landing, half-kneeling and partways dishevelled, you collapsed into the nearest bedroom without really checking which direction you were headed.

Now here you are as Maul does to your mouth with his tongue what he’ll do to your cunt as his impatience wins out, silencing you with that indulgent, lidded gaze — like he knows what you like better than you know yourself when his hand tucks between your thighs.

The sound you make is little better than a half choked gasp of pleasure at the contact: knuckles brushing over the front of your undies as he jerks down your fly, tugging you into him with the sort of insistence that leaves you fumbling and needy — not sure where to put your hands, but wanting to touch him like he’s touching you.

He murmurs against your mouth, “Push them off your hips for me.”

“The door —“

He growls, fingers pressing in, not bothering to move your panties aside but finding your clit through the gusset and rubbing it. The added bit of friction from the cotton isn’t too much. You’re too wet. Maul’s mouth finds your throat, and his teeth close around your pulse point, worrying the skin in warning. Your ankles roll out, and rising to the tips of your toes, you sway with the almost-feeling of getting fucked with those deft, strong fingers tracing your slit but never pushing in.

Head rolling back, you find his face — the carved lines of his jaw —

That smug twist of his mouth.

“Please —“

A rumble of a command, “Do as you’re told.”

But it’s so karking hard when he touches you like this; two fingers rubbing you through your clothes, intent on destroying what little control you’ve maintained. You shouldn’t even bother with underthings, he only wrecks them when he gets in a mood, and apparently after two coats of eggshell and a little splatter on your face from trying to paint the ceiling reminds him of what he might’ve done to you if you were alone.

The door screes on its hinges, shutting untouched, and there’s an element of foreboding to the fact that he’s so gentle with it when he nearly just tore it off the wall.

“Did you do that?” you ask him...

Read the Rest on Ao3 >

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