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sugawara-sweetheart · 3 years

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𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔢 | 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦 (𝔪)

❥seijoh 3rd years x fem!reader / oikawa x fem!reader

❥warnings: dubcon/noncon, manipulation, blood, multiple smut scenes, forced orgasm, begging, praise kink, voyeurism, spit-roasting and implied double penetration, slapping, degradation, free use

❥word count: 4.0k

❣︎anon: hello thereeeee :) so i was hoping to request a dark fic for the seijoh team X reader who is their manager. So early on she joins and she it and is friends with all the boys and slowly they all manipulate her into doing sexual things with them but like before anyone could try anything they had to clear it with Oikawa and Iwa. I think Oikawa would use you the most and prob be the the one to break you so u only trust him. Maybe one day Kindaichi and Kumini try to punish you and corner u in the locker room with Oikawa and you run to him clutching his shirt begging him to protect you and he’s just there with a shit eating grin and decides to show his underclassmen how to treat a woman (sorry this is so long)

based off this ask- but changed a bit + split into 2 parts for age reasons as i dont write underage characters :)

manager of aoba johsai high- the role is one that has filled you with pride from the moment you received it in your first year of attending the prestigious school. over the next few years of being manager, the team had grown to be like your family. you’re like another addition to your fellow third years; oikawa and iwaizumi are your closest friends and matsukawa and hanamaki treat you almost like a younger sister even though you’re the same age, kyōtani is never quite so rude to you like he is to others and every day you can count on yahaba to greet you with a sweet, unique compliment. the first years look up to you like an older sister, trust you, care for you. the volleyball team are the group of people you love the most that on your eighteenth birthday when your fellow third years buy you a sweet cake with teal icing and your name scrawled in buttercream and lit the candles, when hanamaki cheers that you’re finally eighteen, the last one of them to be an adult and oikawa holds out his phone to take pictures of you, you wish to have them in your life forever.

maybe if you knew what were to come of you that night you’d never had wished for that.

oikawa starts off nice at first. he walkes you home, the back of his hand grazing against yours and a bounce in his walk that you almost start to feel that light, electrifying hope bubble inside you. it’s obvious that over the course of three years the handsome, charming captain had become extremely popular with the ladies and you’d be lying if you said a small part of you doesn’t hope that maybe he’d have an extra sparkle in his eye for you, that his heart would flutter a little bit faster when he’s around you, that the cool, collected, charismatic oikawa tōru would feel a little flustered around you. so you don’t refuse him when he stops at your doorstep, shifting his weight from side to side as he rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks tinged a little pink under the white strobes of the streetlamp.

“it’s a bit late so i’ve messaged my dad to come pick me up from here.” he says with that charming signature smile stretched across his face. “you don’t mind if i wait inside with you, do you?” the light feeling of joy buzzes too much in you, your head spinning at the idea of your crush being alone in your home with you that you don’t even pause to wonder when he messaged his dad, his phone having been in his pocket the whole walk home.

it starts off normal enough when you take him up to your bedroom. your house is quiet with your parents still at work and oikawa has a smile tugging at his lips as he strolls around your bedroom, admiring the photographs you have on the wall and his fingers playing with the fairy lights strung around the room.

“have you enjoyed your birthday so far?” he enquires and you grin as you settle at the end of your bed, nodding.

“it was so fun! thank you so much for the cake- who’s idea was it?”

“it was mine, of course.” you roll your eyes at oikawa’s remark, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as he settles beside you, his thigh pressed against yours. you’d never been so close to him before, especially alone and as you squirm slightly you can feel his eyes piercing into you, a gleam held in his chocolate brown orbs.

“you’re eighteen now, you’re a big girl.” you chuckle as he lays down across your bed, holding himself up with his chin propped in his hand and his eyes rake over you slowly. “no longer an innocent little girl.” you’re not really sure what to say but you can’t deny there’s a suggestive lilt in his voice, one that makes your cheeks burn and your palms feel clammy as you fumble with the hem of your teal polo shirt. “have you done anything naughty yet?”

“what?” you’re laughing awkwardly but your heart thuds against your rib cage as oikawa reaches out, grazing his finger along your thigh to send shivers running down your spine.

“come on, you’re a pretty girl and you’re officially old. you must’ve done some nasty things, or maybe you haven’t? are you innocent, y/n? pure?” he laughs as you lower your head, not wanting to meet his eyes and you’re just hoping that you’ll hear a car pull up. sure, your parents won’t be pleased that you let a boy up in your bedroom but you’d rather be grounded for a weekend or have a bad scolding than be alone with oikawa for longer. but nothing. when was his dad going to come?

“have you ever touched yourself?”

“tōru, i- i don’t really like what you’re aski-”

“it’s okay if you haven’t.” oikawa beams, sitting up and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “i can help you out there.” his smile makes you feel cold and it’s no surprise- with all the fangirls trailing after him, hanging onto his every word it’s no surprise he used them to his advantage but the way he’s looking at you now makes you tense your legs, pressing them together as you clench the hem of your shirt.

“i-it’s okay-”

“no.” he’s smiling sweetly but his voice is too firm. you don’t like the feeling of his hand splaying over your thigh, gripping the soft fat but not letting go. “please, let me treat you- consider it a birthday gift.i’m your oldest friend- you’d rather do it with someone you know and trust than some stranger.” he’s grinning and you don’t know if it’s because of the dim lighting and the half-shadows of your bedroom but it looks like a horrible leer that makes your blood run cold. “i’ll take care of you. i’ll make you feel good, and you’ll never have to regret or worry about your first time ever again because it’s all done. then when you go to college you won’t have to worry about being inexperienced!” he’s almost there. he leans close, tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear. “you like me, right?” you’re hesitant but the way he’s studying you so closely, his eyes boring into yours, you feel naked already. so exposed. you can’t lie. you nod your head slowly and oikawa inhales sharply. “that’s what i thought. and i’ve always liked you, y/n. you’re so pretty. so can i?”

you want to say no. you want to move away, not let his lips that are ghosting yours press any harder. you wish his dad was here already, or your parents or maybe if iwaizumi had walked you home instead. but you feel so pinned under his gaze, so trapped like a rabbit caught in headlights, you only nod.

it isn’t bad. but it isn’t comfortable. oikawa kisses you too sloppily, his tongue melding with yours and drool spilling over your chin. it feels weird and foreign for his tongue to invade your mouth and his hands roam over your body too greedily, groping at your chest and hips in pinching ways that leave you squirming. he pulls off your clothes roughly and your cheeks burn with humiliation when he leaves you bare on the bed, straddling over you and spreading your legs to see everything. he fingers you first, his long limbs stretching out your walls and it hurts a little from the rough thrusts of his fingers. but then when he curls them and rubs at those sensitive spots that makes you squirm, it feels good- even better than when you’re alone. and oikawa is oddly sweet, cooing in your ear about how pretty you are and swallowing your moans with his heavy kisses and swirling your swollen clit gently and slowly till you’re finally cumming over his hand, drenching it in your slick. but that doesn’t make you any less scared, a protest dying in your throat, when he tugs off his clothes and his hard cock slaps against his stomach. he’s painfully hard and thick with precum oozing from the flushed tip. you want to pull away but from how he’s caged you underneath his body there’s nowhere to go. there’s nowhere else to look except into his cold brown eyes and your cries go unheard over his moans.

“so pretty.” he smiles as he slides his cock along your folds. it’s warm and heavy and you jerk when he taps it against your sensitive clit but he’s sweet, kissing your forehead as he edges his length towards your entrance. “i’ll take care of you so well- no one will ever make you feel this good except me.”

“tōru-” your anxious whine just makes oikawa inhale sharply before he slides his cock into you, groaning at how you bury your face in the crook of his neck and your nails rake down his back, hard enough to surely make him bleed. his cock throbs in your walls that seem to burn with the stretch and you feel so full with pressure building in the pit of your stomach.

“look how good my cock fits in your pretty little cunny. this pussy was made for me.” his teases make you whimper but he softly presses a tender kiss to your forehead before his lips meet yours in another desperate kiss. they don’t stop- tracing down your throat, the little bites stinging with possession as your soft moans fill the room, pleasure infused with pain, before his lips wrap around your pebbled nipples, sucking and nibbling and pushing you closer to the edge.

“you’re such a sweet girl,” oikawa smiles when he’s dressing himself, milky cheeks flushed and his eyes glittering as he gazes at you lying on the bed. you feel heavy, weighed down with the ropes of cum splattered across your stomach and chest, and with your heart feeling cracked with every heartbeat you can’t even move. your skin burns all over wherever oikawa touched you and scarlet pools below you, staining the bedsheets but he just smiles at you like you’re the best thing. “i’d be a fool to ever let you go.”

you’re bound to oikawa forever.

you don’t know why but after that day being stuck in school sends you into a panic. being surrounded by tall, broad strong boys every day in that vast gymnasium makes your ears ring, black spots filling your vision as your world spins. everything sounds so distant like your head is plunged underwater, and then two firm hands press on your shoulders. the clean smell of oikawa’s aftershave fills your nose, his perfume strong too, and his brown hair tickles your cheek as he leans down to you, smiling wide. everything starts to clear.

“you okay, y/n?” watari enquires, his eyes a little wide. “you seem pale.” the other boys watch you closely with intrigue, not looking so convinced even when you nod and force a shaky smile.

“just felt a bit dizzy.”

“you’ve got ro remember to take your vitamins, y/n-chan.” oikawa chastises you, but there’s a broad smirk on his face as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. “it’s okay, you can sit here on the bench with me.” your racing heart starts to slow when he takes you to the side, sitting down beside you and resting his hand on your thigh as you watch the boys resume practise. you’ve not been the same since that night, but for some reason even then you can only cling to oikawa to make you feel okay, even when he was the first one to ruin you.

you think it would just be him. that he’d be the only one who’d let some sweet words flow from his lips and even though your mind would scream no and your heart would feel heavy, you’d still pull off your clothes and let him have his way with you, hoping the kisses and the soft cuddles afterwards would make you feel better, even though they never do.

how naïve of you.

“we’re going to iwaizumi’s house tonight.” oikawa smiles at you after practise one friday evening. you hesitate a little, glancing at your other friend who’s lips twitch into a mere smile but you can’t voice your confusion. usually oikawa’s favorite friday evening activity is fucking you into the mattress till you’re a drooling mess whether you like it or not, but this time iwaizumi is here. a small semblance of hope ignites in you- maybe you’ll just hang out as normal friends and do normal things like watching a movie like you’ve been craving for so long, that a small warm smile grows on your face as you nod happily.

“let’s get meat buns on the way home then!” you cry, turning to eagerly stuff your notepad into your bag to get out of the gym quicker. you don’t see the smiles they exchange.

iwaizumi’s house is empty when you all arrive but you’re too excited to have a fun normal time with two of your closest friends, just like old times, to notice the thick tension brewing. or perhaps you don’t want to see it. you don’t mind iwaizumi nudging closer to you as oikawa feeds you bits of pizza and you don’t shake off the vice-captain’s hand that finds its way onto your thigh, grasping it tight through your teal sweatpants. it’s only when oikawa gets to his feet that you become aware of how close iwaizumi is to you, his grey eyes piercing into you, and your heart hammers against your chest as you try to cling to oikawa’s arm.

“w-where are you going?” you squirm at the bruising grip iwaizumi holds onto your thigh, tightening when your eyes widen at the smiling captain. “d-don’t go.”

“shittykawa,” iwaizumi growls. his voice is permeated with anger, brow furrowed as he glares at his best friend. “i let you go first but not to turn her into your own personal whore.” your throat goes dry when oikawa lets his high laugh ring in the room, piercing through the throbbing in your ears as you feel your throat tighten.

“i can’t help it if girls like me better, iwa-chan.” you wince when iwaizumi hisses, his nails piercing through the fabric of your pants, but the pain fades as oikawa leans down, cupping your face gently. the malicious look on his face is anything but soothing. “be a good girl for iwa-chan. i’ll be back.”

the door snaps shut and you whine as iwaizumi pulls you onto his lap, mouthing kisses to your neck and jawline as you squirm, gripping his shoulders tight. there’s no denying the unmistakable stiffness pressing against your clothed cunt, the shifting of his hips pressing it into you.

“oikawa isn’t the only one who can treat you.” he groans, tilting your face to lock your eyes with him. you swallow hard, nodding as you’re frozen with your heart pounding against your chest, nausea churning in your stomach. “you like me too, right?”

you can’t deny iwaizumi’s hot. if there was another person you’d have fallen for on the team, it would definitely had been the ace- the funny, muscular, intimidating ace who never failed to take care of you, just like an older brother. but that was before all this, and as you nod slowly you realise he’s just the same as oikawa. you really don’t know your friends at all.

his kisses are rougher than oikawa’s, the taste of his lips bitter but the familiar scent of his cologne is all you try to focus on, trying to calm your racing heart, as he pushes you against the couch, peeling off your sweatpants. heat rushes to your cheeks as you try to press your legs together but one warning glance from iwaizumi, you force yourself to relax, blinking back tears as you stare up at the ceiling, gripping the cushion underneath you.

“that’s it, angel.” iwaizumi mutters against the soft skin of your thighs. you wonder if he’s simply ignoring how much you’re trembling as his coarse fingertips grazes along your folds. “open up for me, let me see my pretty girl.”

it isn’t awful. it isn’t as bad as your first time. it’s just your friend, it’s just iwaizumi, and oikawa wouldn’t have left you if if he didn’t trust his best friend. so you try to tell yourself it feels good when iwaizumi presses his face against your cunt, sucking your clit and licking at your wet folds whilst his fingers stretch you out, that his roughness is nice as he fingerfucks your pussy and that your orgasm isn’t entirely forced when the hot waves of pleasure crash over you exactly at the moment he demands you cum for him. his cock is thick and it burns as he stretches you out, your tears staining the soft fabric of the couch and your nails clawing at it whilst he grasps your hips, groaning as he fucks you from behind, telling you how beautiful you look dripping all over him, how well your pretty pussy takes his dick, forcing you to beg to cream all over his cock as if its something you want.

“did you both have a nice time?” oikawa smiles when he returns to the room, carrying a warm washcloth. “i really do wish i could’ve stayed and watched.”

“shut up, trashykawa.” iwaizumi spits, grabbing the cloth and you can’t help but flinch as he reaches to wipe the cum he released all over your bare back. oikawa chuckles as he crouches by the edge of the couch, his face inches away from yours and for the first time you want to spit at him. spit. yell. cry. claw the horrible satisfied smirk spreading across his face as he gazes at you like you’re nothing more than a damn pet. but you don’t. you let him kiss the tip of your nose and stroke your hair, blood ringing in your ears as your two former best friends talk about you, how good your cunt is, how tight you are, how you’re such a pretty little thing, like you’re not even there.

a pretty pet. a little plaything. a cumdump.

that’s all you’re reduced to, chained to oikawa and iwaizumi to use for their own pleasure. you’re swapped between them whenever they want- a bad practise match or an empty house, if iwaizumi’s extra annoyed at oikawa, if iwaizumi’s been hogging you too long. the rest of the team don’t notice a thing- they don’t see how you come stumbling out of the boys’ toilets after oikawa with your lips swollen and your knees weak, a far, distant look in your glazed eyes and the stains of tears drying on your cheeks. or perhaps they ignore it, just like they ignore iwaizumi’s pointed look after oikawa’s pissed him off that makes you run to his side, nodding when he tells you he’ll be walking you home tonight. or maybe it’s something else entirely, you consider when you feel the eyes burning into you at practise and you look up to see hanamaki and matsukawa staring at you from their positions on the court, smiles tugging at their lips that only they seem to understand.

makki and mattsun, as you’d endearingly used to call them, see it as a game. their laughter sounds like a manic nightmare in your pounding head when they tug you onto the floor- not even a bed, but the hard wooden floorboards of oikawa’s bedroom- and tug off your clothes. your tears stain the floorboards, nails scraping against the wood as you plead oikawa and iwaizumi. stop it. stop them. please. but your sobs go ignored and end up being muffled by mattsun forcing his cock between your lips, the leaking head bruising your throat as makki’s fingers force their way into your dry cunt.

“aw, poor baby.” oikawa coos from the other side of the room where he and iwaizumi lounge, the latter clearly sporting a hard-on. but oikawa’s brazen, not even bothering to hide how he gets off on this, watching you sob and gag with hungry eyes, stroking his cock lazily. “doesn’t she look so pretty when she cries?”

“so pretty.” sneers mattsun, slapping your tear-stained cheek that bulges lewdly with his cock stuffed in your mouth. “she looks real good taking my cock down that slutty throat.”

“wait till she’s taking not just one cock but two like a good pretty whore.” hanamaki’s hand is harsh as it slaps down onto your bare ass and your legs wrestle weakly, fingernails clawing at the floor, when he shoves his cock into you.

any other club. whether it was netball, athletics, even the fucking occults club that barely just survives with three members- anything would’ve been better than becoming the manager of aoba seijoh’s volleyball team. hamartia had crashed down onto you earlier than you expected.

your last year of high school is pathetic. the only catharsis you can find is numbness- it’s easier to push away all the dark feelings that fester inside you. whore. cumdump. slut. only good for sucking dick. you almost become immune to the words groaned at you when they’re pounding into your cunt, fingers gripping your hair tight and tongue wet with the saliva they’d spat into your mouth. an everlasting torture. oikawa insisting on you coming round to his house, easily charming your parents and everyone else with a sweet smile so he can spend the weekend fucking your mouth or cunt- whichever he preferred. whenever he’s angry, upset, overjoyed- every emotion is bruised into your body when he uses it, soothing your sobs and pain by kissing away your tears and promising to make you cum because you’re so wet you must be enjoying it, you’re taking his cock so well, you’re so good for him. if it’s not oikawa, it’s iwaizumi’s taking he wants- demanding gruffly that he wants you. he’s always so rough, his grip bruising on your hips and your scalp burning as he tugs your hair back to leave a trace of bruises along your throat but he’s different- his sweet words afterwords aren’t laced with a malicious gleam, not like oikawa.

and of course, makki and mattsun aren’t done with you. you can always tell when it’s their turn, impended with the bright grins they flash at you or throwing their arms around your shoulders at practise. it’s funny how you look like a normal group of friends but you’re anything but- no group of friends force you into the empty locker room before a game, pushing you down onto your knees and forcing their thick lengths into your mouth one after the other till all you can taste is their cum. it’s no better after games, but you just always hope that they win so they can be nicer, they can at least make you cum after they’ve jacked off all over your teal tracksuit. but if they lose, hell swallows you in fiery flames when you’re a crying mess forced down onto two cocks ripping you apart, only your sobs are ignored for your face to get fucked.

the worse was after nationals. you’d cried with the rest of the team following their loss, when victory was snatched from their hands just as they were so close to tasting the sweetness of victory, but it wasn’t for the same reasons. it’s because you knew you were going to get ruined, be left a bruised aching cum-stained mess.

the day clubs end for the third years, you’ve never felt so much more relieved. tears of happiness well in the corners of your eyes when you’re forced into taking picturess with the team, oikawa’s grip on your arm burning but at least you’re free. free from this hell, free from him.

you never learn from being so naïve.

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maggotmouth · 3 years

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hillo sexthy legends !! i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !! x o x

* CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

— born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

— its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

— margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

— for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

— at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

— she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

— a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.

— she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away. it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

— after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.

— she works at summer camps coaching junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

— enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment.

— she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

— used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

— was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

— nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

— has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

— she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

— calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

— stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

— lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

— constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

— frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you, indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine.

TLDR: angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

#aaaaaaa #we back boys #irvingintro #hmu for plots bayybeyyy

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bumbleberrysky · 4 years

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alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 01

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.2k rating: sfw warnings: none except the appearance of battered gabriel fresh out of asmodeus’ hold notes: welcome to my first dive into writing for supernatural! i saw someone say that s13 lit a fire under their ass like nothing else and honestly i don’t think i could have described it better. i binged so much while catching up the past few weeks idk who i am anymore

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe...

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

next.

“Honeys, I’m home!”

The bunker has the same light aroma of musty air and metal as you let yourself in through the heavy front door, feet carrying you, out of habit more than anything, to the steel landing that marks the entrance to the fortress. It’s been so long since you were last here that the two men you used to hunt with regularly have likely forgotten they gave you a spare key. Well, they hadn’t exactly given it to you so much as you’d made a copy on the down-low and kept it for occasions such as this.

One hand keeps pressure on your arm, an attempt to stem the bleeding, and the other carries your single carry-on bag. You make it about halfway down the stairs before your gaze swings out over the foyer and you freeze, mid-step.

Sam and Dean, the two figures you expected to find here, are standing stock-still with their guns half-poised (not directed at you) and expressions on their faces that are a combination of shocked, pissed, and extremely confused (mostly directed at you). Following the line of their weapons leads you to the other two occupants in the room, most definitely unexpected and completely unfamiliar.

One is in rags, cowering, and whimpering, unrecognisable underneath filthy tangled hair that covers his face, and the other is in a prim suit marred only by blood and a bit of dirt, barely a single strand of dark hair atop his head out of place.

“Twinkletoes? What the hell are you doing here?!”

It’s Dean’s stupid, old nickname for you that breaks you out of your shock, a glare already falling onto your face with the practised ease of muscle memory.

“I’ll answer that when you tell me what the hell I just walked in on—” You come the rest of the way down the stairs, slower and more cautious now, with your gaze trained on the two at the other end of the table. It’s when the man in rags finally looks up from where he had been cowering and you catch a glimpse of his face, bloody and bruised but instantly familiar, that your words swell and catch in your throat.

“… Gabriel?”

The brothers in front of you heave a great, unanimous sigh, a look passed between them telling you that you’re about to be on the receiving end of a very ludicrous and typical Winchester story.

x x x

The first time you met Gabriel was not long after you’d gone through the biggest plot twist of your entire life. You’d gone to sleep in your bed, in your home, and woken up in a completely different part of the world, like some magician had snapped their fingers and you’d been the punchline of their very next trick. Much to your regret and distaste, some minor investigation revealed that where you’d woken up in the backseat of a car on the side of the road was in some state in the US. You’d sworn to yourself that you would never step foot here in your entire life and then, like God or whoever reigned above was laughing straight in your face, you’d just up and woken up in some random car in a place that made you long to be literally anywhere else.

Preferably somewhere where the occupants didn’t have such easy access to guns.

…like the two men who screamed and pointed theirs at you when you popped up from their backseat after they climbed into the cabin, fast food in their arms.

That was the first time you’d met the infamous hunting brothers, the Winchesters, and the first time of many you’d nearly died in their company.

It had taken a while for them to trust you, but after you inviting yourself onto a few of their cases and saving their asses a handful of times (ignoring the amount of times they saved yours because you forgot that almost every American slept with a gun beneath their pillow) they’d eventually taken you under their proverbial wing. It helped that you had literally nowhere else to go and nothing but the clothes on your back and a bare handful of belongings to your name. Once they figured out you weren’t hiding anything up your sleeve and that you’re just naturally annoying and a little dumb, they’d happily invited you to become an official-unofficial part of their little hunting gang. This means you’re also familiar with the hilarious angel they have in their back pocket. Castiel is a riot and one of the things you miss most when you go off to hunt on your own.

Having been around during the whole ordeal of Lucifer and Michael going through the motions of continuing their family spat on an apocalyptic scale, you too grew to be familiar with their youngest brother, the archangel Gabriel. Of course, while you’d been there for a fair amount of the angel-turned-trickster’s shenanigans, you weren’t there for the final appearance he made at a hotel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In complete juxtaposition to the fact that you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d interacted properly with Gabriel, the sensations you experienced at the news of his sacrifice, his death, were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You like to consider yourself much more emotionally healthy and with an emotional range far larger than that of a teaspoon and the Winchesters’, but that… that news was something that it had taken you months to recover from fully.

And even then, apparently your recovery wasn’t as complete as you’d thought, because hearing what the boys have told you now has made your eyes burn and your stomach turn into a nest of manic bees, your insides lined with flowers and pollen. You think, for a moment, that you just might be sick.

You’re sitting in the library, Gabriel having been taken to a room of his own by one Winchester while the other fills you in before they’re both reunited before you, and you’re in the kind of mood where you sort of want to just sit there and dissociate for a few hours, truthfully. You can tell you’re not going to get that opportunity though, so in the wake of the bombshell they’d just dropped on you about all you’d missed in the past few months—that they had apparently forgotten to tell you over the phone when you checked in occasionally— you do the next best thing you can think of for the moment.

Put it on the backburner, baby.

You massage your temple with your fingers as you lean your head into your hand, a sigh escaping through your nose. “See, this is why it feels like I have been brought on as a babysitter—I leave for a few months and you old men manage to dig up another almost-apocalypse and find and raise Lucifer’s kid?”

“Alright, first of all,” Dean whips out a finger to point at you, filling you with glee. You’ve barely been back a few hours and already you’re stepping back into your favourite “stir-the absolute-shit-out-of-Dean” pants. As always, he is almost pitifully quick to rise to the bait. “Old? Who are you calling old? Alright so maybe we have a few years on you but that’s just because you’re a toddler and w—”

“Dean,” Sam places a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look that seems to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his features. “You’re making it too easy for her.”

The older Winchester pauses, turning to pin you with an accusing look. You smile, not even attempting to appear innocent. After staring at you for several long moments, Dean makes the ‘eyes-on-you’ gesture with his fingers before turning away, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he takes a seat across from you.

“You were gone for almost a year this time, did you have any luck, well, leaving?” Sam brings your attention back to him, the question dragging out a sigh that feels like it’s been dredged from the very depths of your being.

“No,” you answer, sounding somewhat petulant even to your own ears. “Why is it so hard to leave this god-forsaken country! I hate it here. I’m sick of trying to make a run for it and being zapped back into a swamp, or—or a pool at the top of a penthouse suite in the middle of some random city! It sucks balls.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean waves his hand, enjoying the dirty look you give him. “So you still haven’t found whatever purpose you’re meant to fulfil while here?”

You huff, shaking your head. “No. It’s been years and I still have no idea why I woke up here that day. Or why I can’t leave.”

Over the time you’ve spent with the Winchesters, a few things became apparent to the three of you about your stay here. One, it was indefinite. You’d discovered quickly that you are, quite literally, unable to leave. Every time you get close to escaping this country you black out and wake up back inside. Sometimes in a helpful place, sometimes…. Not.

Two, the three of you had thrown around and entertained the idea that maybe you’d been brought here for a reason, that like them maybe you’d been divinely allocated a role to play. But you’ve been through a lot with the Winchesters, whether in person or by association, and still…

You’re no closer to being able to leave and return from whence you came.

You have no idea why you’re here!

This is something that has really contributed to your temporary career as a hunter here. That isn’t to say that this profession isn’t something you were involved in before you came here, but you’ve really… you really dove into it, whether as a distraction or as an ongoing investigation as to what on earth was going to set you free of your tie to this place. A part of you thinks that each case you take on, each person or family you save and creature you slay might be the one reason that brought you here, and the one task that with its completion will grant you freedom. You’ve never been a fan of being caged; just because this one spans a grand total of 9.834 million square kilometres doesn’t make it any less of one.

This most recent expedition that led you to part from the Winchesters for such a long time was another of your failed attempts to leave. You think you’ve tried escaping at every possible point along the coastline and border by now, with a definite lack of success.

“Well, if it really is some divine intervention keeping you here, then it’s better if you just sit back and settle down, twinkletoes.” Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair with an accompanying creak from the wood. “Those divine types have proven to be… kind of assholes.”

You frown, but he isn’t saying anything you haven’t already thought. It’s part of why you’d settled so easily into hunting here, actually. ‘When in Rome…’, as they say. You’re familiar with the hunting grind and there is comfort in familiarity.

“Are you going to stay a while?” Sam asks, opening the first-aid box he’d first brought over when you’d settled down. Ah, right—you’d almost forgotten about the injury on your arm, despite the fact that you are still pressing a palm to it. You listen as he speaks, almost swearing you can detect a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “You still have a room here for you, of course. We haven’t touched anything inside.”

“Yeah, mostly because we didn’t wanna deal with the mess and the booby-trapped doors—” Dean’s under-the-breath mutter is cut off by your coo, a wide smile pulling your lips.

“Oh, you two missed me, didn’t you?” Instantly, you are successful in ruffling Dean’s feathers— Sam might take a bit more work, though. “I know I really light this dark, dingy place up but I didn’t know it was that bad without me! Ah, perhaps I will stay a while. You know, out of charity.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, beseeching. “It’s not too late—you hold her back and I’ll find her key. It’s not too cold, she’ll be alright outside.”

An appalled and affronted look slips onto your face and Sam has to clear his throat so that he doesn’t laugh and add to his brother’s torment.

“I’m not a misbehaving puppy,” you say, holding your arm out for Sam as he comes over and finally freeing your bloody hand. “Wait, unless you want me to be. Been broadening your horizons beyond animated tentacle porn have you, Deanie-bo-beenie?”

On cue, Dean’s face flushes light red, whether from anger or a brief spritz of embarrassment, only God knows. You can see Sam’s face grow tense from the effort of holding back noise in your peripheral as he tends to your arm.

“You know what? I’m better than this. I’m gonna let it go.” Dean rises from his chair, making a show of dusting off your metaphorical drama. His light eyes flick to you, squinting. “I’m tired; I have a date with my memory foam pillow and nice, warm, feather duvet and a good night’s rest, so goodnight. I hope your bed has bed bugs, twinkletoes, and I hope they bite.”

“I hope you sleep well too, Dean!” you call after him, deciding you’ll have to give him a break from the bullying tomorrow or else he’ll explode before you can have much fun. “Do you want me to come tuck you in?”

“No! Goodnight!”

His yell and disappearance down the hall is followed a few moments later by the familiar sound of a door slamming shut,

“That’s not very fair of you,” Sam announces, sounding strained and very much like he’s trying not to laugh lest Dean has an ear pressed to his door. “He’s too tired to fight back right now.”

“I know,” you answer, wincing as he wipes down the laceration on your bicep and cleans the blood away with an alcohol wipe. It burns, but it’s definitely not the most painful thing you have ever experienced. “I hadn’t seen you guys in so long, though. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam simply snorts, reaching for the needle and thread to being stitching the skin back together, and you breathe harshly through your nose as you reach for another topic to distract yourself.

“Are the two—sorry, the three of you actually dads now? To… to Lucifer’s half-angel kid? I thought angels getting frisky with humans was, uh… illegal up in heaven.”

You feel rather than see Sam roll his eyes, your own pointedly directed away from your arm where he has begun to get to work. “It’s Lucifer, y/n, I don’t think he cares about what’s illegal up in heaven.”

You purse your lips—he makes a fair point. Honestly, you feel a little silly for questioning it. “Right, and he’s… trapped in some other dimension? An alternate world where the apocalypse really happened.”

“Yep,” Sam says, hitting a particularly painful spot with his needle. You hiss, giving him a glare.

“I wasn’t even gone a year! Just hearing all this shit is stressing me out so much, dude.” You sigh, attempting to adjust your position in the wooden chair without jostling your arm too much. Thankfully, practice has made Sam quick at his job and already he is almost done piecing you back together. He finishes up with a knot, snipping the thread and then placing a large bandage carefully over the wound. He dusts his hands once done, standing from where he was leaning against the table and proceeding to loom over you like a T-Rex.

“You’re blocking my light, bro,” you inform him, narrowly avoiding a subsequent good-natured smack to your good arm. “Damn, what the hell! Didn’t you take an oath or some shit? I’m your patient!”

“I was studying law, not medicine,” Sam retorts dryly. He turns to leave and put the first aid supplies away, his back facing you but not before you see how his lips twitch. “So your annoying ass is free game.”

“Maybe so,” you acquiesce, rising from your seat with a light grunt as you jostle your arm. You consider asking Sam where Castiel is, to see if you can get a hit of the good stuff and skip the healing process, but think better of it. You always feel a bit bad asking him to heal you, though you barely ever have to since he’s like a rabid mother hen the second he sees blood on any of you. “God, I’m beat. I didn’t think I could get any more tired than I was before, but as always catching up with you two has aged me a few years and now I’m just about as tired as you two are all the time.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the ‘old man’ bait you dangle in front of him—never really does, if you’re being honest; that’s mostly Dean’s vice— but he does offer you a smile that is unexpectedly sincere and fond.

“Go to bed, toddler,” he retorts, before continuing in a softer tone, “… It’s good to see you again, y/n. I’m glad you’re here. Dean and Mom are going out on a hunt in the next few days and I think you can really help with, uh… the whole Gabriel thing.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You’d sort of been trying to avoid thinking about the elephant in your mind, for the very same reason that makes your eyes burn once more. It hurts, a lot, thinking and imagining what he must have gone through at the hands of Asmodeus. It feels like your heart is going to tear itself to pieces in your chest from the sheer extent of your empathy and how terrible you feel for him. The Gabriel you saw cowering before you earlier is nothing like the confident feathery asshole you used to know.

Even having only seen him once, it’s enough to make you fearful of the possibility that… he might be too far gone to ever return to that last echo of his previous self.

“I’m not sure what I’ll even be able to do to help,” you respond, approaching the doorway to the hall with your bag in tow. You pause to finish what you’re saying, meeting Sam’s puppy-like gaze from across the room. “But I’ll try. It hurts to see him like that, so… I’ll stay a while, to do whatever I can.”

Sam’s answering thankful smile and nod is all you can ask for in response as you turn and head further into the bunker, dragging your bags back to the room you’d come to call your own over the years. Your gaze strays on the way to one of the doors that has a little note taped on saying, ‘please do not open suddenly or loudly’, undoubtedly the room that they have allocated to Gabriel for the time being. Heart heavy in your chest, you continue on down the hall and tear your gaze away.

You’re not sure how much you can do for him, but you hope you can do something.

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navigatrixloves · 3 years

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list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know. They can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. When you’re done, tag the people you want to get to know better!

I was tagged by the lovely @hklnvgl!! (EDIT: while I was writing this up, @behindtheatlantic tagged me too!! thanks sm to both of you!!)

Tagging: @avalonjoan, @sunset-moons, @ambergreyowl, @har-graves, and @skytouches!! if you want to, of course 💛💛

I’m gonna start with the most serious one and get lighter from there, so feel free to skip the first few if you’d prefer :))

1. (CW: this is an injury story) I have one very, very fucked-up finger! I broke my left ring finger in 2018 (when I say I “broke” it, I mean it was a comminuted compound fracture, which basically means “really fucking broken”) and I had to have surgery to put the bone back together! there were some complications afterward and I ended up needing three more surgeries after that, and for most of that time my finger just kind of didn’t move (which is really inconvenient for, like, most daily activities. it’s my non-dominant hand, though, so it could have been worse). But after my last surgery and a ton of PT I can actually kind of move it! it doesn’t straighten all the way, my hand cramps up sometimes, my grip strength is pretty weak, and it def looks a little weird but honestly? that finger’s still attached and I’m pretty damn pleased w that. So if you look closely at any drawings I’ve done of myself and see a couple scars on my hand, that’s why! (also I’m sticking a picture of my old x-ray under the cut if you want to see, mostly bc I don’t usually get a chance to show off my depressingly expansive collection of hand x-rays.)

2. I play guitar! this is kind of a big deal for me, not because I’m particularly good at it (I’m not haha) but because, when I broke my finger, I pretty much had to accept that I might never play guitar again, and I’m really lucky that that ended up not being the case.

3. I write a LOT, but I post/share basically none of it bc I never finish anything, ever. like I’ve been chipping away at the same story for years and the plot is hazy at best and half the characters are barely developed, but I’ve got a ridiculous number of isolated scenes that I thought of, wrote out, and never put into context. I’m not sure what to do with them at this point so they’re all just chilling in my drive for now

4. I wear a lot of friendship bracelets! I’m a summer camp counselor so they kind of just come with the territory, but I also just love them a lot!! I’ll probably never wear a wedding ring (I’m just uncomfy with anything that could lead to finger injuries, for obvious reasons) but I love the idea of wearing a bracelet or something instead! because if and when I get married it’ll be to my best friend and I am a huge fucking sap okay

I’ve got a ton of these bad boys, but right now I’m wearing these guys:

5. I speak German and French! I love German a lot, and although I like French I also harbor a lot of contempt for it- I’ve been learning French for longer (I started when I was 10, I’m 21 now) so it’s kind of like the way you love a sibling and also find them unbelievably annoying, in part bc you know you’re stuck with them forever. my favorite German word is “verschlimmbessern” (to try to improve something, then end up making it worse) and my favorite French word is “efficace” (which means both “effective” and “efficient”, which makes it such an efficient word, and I just LOVE that)

(under the cut: my hand x-ray about a month after I broke my finger! you can see the hardware (pins) in the x-ray, if that sounds unpleasant then probs don’t look)

#tag game #alex stop yelling #avalonjoan #sunset-moons #ambergreyowl #har-graves #skytouches

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plush-anon · 4 years

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Happy Halloween Scooby Doo! Review

Muahahhhahahhahahaha! Thanks to the Walmart tradition of stocking movies for sale weeks before the intended release date, I have myself a copy of what claims to be Scooby Doo’s FIRST Halloween adventure!

…in spite of movies like Witch’s Ghost and Goblin King, holiday specials like WNSD’s A Scooby Doo Halloween (which had a haunted Scarecrow too…), BCSD’s EL Bandito (for Dia de los Muertos - obvs not the same, but most companies act like it) and Halloween, The NSDM’s Halloween Hassle at Dracula’s Castle, and the DTV short film Scooby Doo and the Spooky Scarecrow (which, ironically enough, did NOT take the opportunity to feature Dr. Jonathan Crane).

So let us take a look now at Happy Halloween Scooby Doo! and see whether this film will be a graveyard smash of a treat, or a black licorice bomb of disappointment.

Full review (and SPOILERS TO GO WITH IT) are below the cut in my new review format; if all goes smoothly, I’ll go with this for future Scooby films.

WARNING: This review is very long.

One minor note before we begin: the Special Features actually include BCSD’s Halloween, WNSD’s A Scooby Doo Halloween, and PNSD’s Ghost Who’s Coming to Dinner

...so they were AWARE this was not the first Halloween adventure of the Scooby gang, and yet still use that tag line. Hm.

Still, kudos for including them - this’ll help boost the reasons to keep this movie, if it turns out to be a real Milk Dud of a movie *ba-dum tish* :D

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The movie starts off rather abruptly, actually - no slow pan over the setting, just WB Animation credit and BOOM, we’ve cut to a Halloween parade and Elvira is talking.

I’m of a mixed opinion including Elvira on top of having Bill Nye and a Batman Rogue - while she most certainly fits the Scooby aesthetic, it doesn’t feel as grand an impact after her weird little cameo in Return to Zombie Island (ugh) and I’m not sure how well the movie will balance her in wait a minute

wait just a

WAIT A MINUTE

Did - did that parade float skeleton just sing Crystal Cove as the town’s name?

oh no.

Oh No.

....also their song is terrible and they should feel terrible.

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Fred: We got him! Banh Mi Shop, second floor!

me: the heck is a Banh Mi Shop? *mild googling noises*

So I guess Jonathan Crane really had a craving for a Vietnamese sandwich before he enacted his Halloween scheme.

...you think he’s a lemongrass chicken type of guy or a BBQ pork guy? It’s always hard to guess at these things, esp when coffee and pumpkin spice aren’t on the table (as per fanon, of course)

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Velma: We have a flawless track record!

So I guess WB is just gonna ignore the past few DTV retcons established in 13 Ghosts and Return to Zombie Island?

I mean that rather defeats the purpose of them existing at all, but fcuk YEAH I can get behind throwing that retcon garbage out of canon!

And STAY OUT!!

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Shaggy, talking about ghosts being real: I’m like the boy who cried wolf - I keep warning you but like, you won’t believe me until I finally get eaten!

Yet again, Warner Bros makes a wolf reference to Shaggy. Yet again, I am torn asunder between wanting werewolf!Shaggy in a new Scooby property, and fearing for the appearance of werewolf!Shaggy in a new Scooby property.

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Velma: Point is, being afraid is a waste of time!

Scarecrow, LITERALLY EXPLODING THROUGH A BRICK WALL three buildings away:

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He’s floating through the air and t-posing to assert his dominance 🤣🤣🤣

Gods bless animation 😁

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Daphne @ Shag and Scoob locking themselves in the van: Are you serial?

Me: wait, SERIAL? *re-reads captions* yup, that says “serial”.

Is this an editing mistake? I don’t think that works here…unless that’s supposed to be a joke on how they always do this. But then why would that be an irritating surprise, they literally do this EVERY episode 🙄

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Oh hey, Red Herring’s Party Screams truck has Red Herring running out of it

Could this be a hint to how the story goes? The villain appearing on a literal Red Herring?

Naaaaaah, WB’s not THAT smart

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So if we take @captainbaddecisions crack theory on Jonathan Crane being Shaggy’s uncle seriously, does this mean that Jonathan is using magic to fly, float fear toxin orbs around himself, and making things explode, a la the family trait of Crack Theory A?

Logically he’s probs using wires or magnets or some shit, but it’s a fun thought to entertain 😁

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Welp, we finally get the opening credits! … with Jonathan Crane smashing through the Mystery Machine’s windshield, set to a slow poppy song straight from the 60s, and spewing the title of the film out in glittery pink mist.

All the while Scooby and Shaggy throw candy at each other, deliberately obtuse to the cloud of fear toxin enveloping their friends and the townsfolk, the steady destruction of the Mystery Machine they’re laying in as multiple cars crash into it and send it spiraling, and the general mayhem and destruction that Scarecrow is causing

Never change, guys, never change

--------

I just choked on my lemonade

There’s an article plastered to the roof of the Mystery Machine titled “Talking Dog Confounds, Ignites Ethics Debate Over Dog Labor”

ahahahahaha

-------

Annnnnnnnd there goes the Mystery Machine, tumbling in the air and over the roads with Shaggy and Scooby still inside without seat belts. Will they perish in this horrible road accident? Will Death finally come to claim them at last?

Of course not. This is Shaggy and Scooby we’re talking about - I’m almost positive they can survive anything up to and including a nuclear bomb. This is child’s play to them.

-------

So they “capture” Scarecrow… by pinning his cape to a tree with crossbow bolts.

And they do not try to at least tie up his arms or his hands in ANY capacity.

JUST the cape.

...you know, Velma, for a team with a “flawless” track record, you guys are making a hecking TON of mistakes in facing against one of Batman’s ROGUES GALLERY, ESPECIALLY with no Batman in sight, good freakin’ grief. 😩

------

Yaaaaaaaaas, this Scarecrow design is LUSH

He’s got the lank, the height, the BTAS costume colors, the elongated face with beaky nose and pointed chin and angular cheekbones, the eyebags like Gucci, the furrowed brow… honestly the only thing missing is the more reddish color hair, and even that isn’t mandatory. I love 😍

Not to mention the HOT DAYUM voice he has - low and velvet rough and so godsdamned particular in a way that could either tie in to obscuring a southern accent as in fanon or just as a stringent academic, oh my yes. He’s voiced by someone called Dwight Schultz, who’s most well known for playing Captain ‘Howling Mad’ Murdock in the OG A-Team show, and someone called Reginald Barclay in Star Trek TNG and Voyager, if any of y’all know that character in particular.

And of course, the first line he says is a delightfully wry “Oh, but I AM getting away with it,” with the sort of smirk that absolutely lends credence to why he’s a threat to Batman, and not some simpering wimp that can be defeated with some crossbow bolts in a tree.

I think I’m going to enjoy this movie at least somewhat, so long as we get to see him 🥰🥰🥰

(tho on a side note: Daphne why on EARTH are you trying to film Crane saying the meddling kids line? Do you have a video compilation of past villains who’ve done that, and you hope to add his to it? Was your phone damaged when you went up against the Riddler a few DTVs ago and you want a second shot at recording a Gotham Rogue saying it? Bc I don’t think a Gotham Rogue would be too pleased with seeing himself as a Mystery Meme on the Youtubes, you get what I’m saying?)

-------

Okay, so the floating orb things are explained away as fear toxin bomb drones somehow… despite looking nothing like the other drones and being much smaller with no visible propulsion, while also flying unassisted through and around objects to explode against places once flung…

(tho interesting note, none of them are aimed directly at the crowds, just behind them - odd, that)

But how did he heckin’ FLY at the beginning?

Yeah, they show him wearing wrist-mounted grappling hooks at the end of the intro song sequence, but they are NOWHERE IN SIGHT at the beginning - and I do mean in sight, since he emerges against a backdrop of flames. There was nothing there (see the T-pose above for further evidence), and nothing there when he FLEW THROUGH THE MYSTERY MACHINE’S WINDSHIELD AND FLEW BACK OUT AGAIN. And these things are pale silver, which stands out like crazy against the darker backgrounds, so no hand-wavy ‘they were always being used’ bullcrap we’ve seen in other movies.

Hmmm *scribbles in notepad* note to self, add notation concerning Crack Theory A on magic!Shaggy to “Uncle Crane” theory files - evidence denotes that Crane is able to fly (or at least hover in mid-air unassisted) for terrorization purposes. May boost strength of CTA by family association, lending credence to magic inheritance along the bloodline...

------

“Avocado Toast Generation”? Crane, I honestly don’t know if you really mean that, or if you understand just how much that phrase gets under any Millennial/Gen Z kid’s skin. Having seen multiple variations of your character, it really could swing either way (tho kudos on the dead switch idea - very nice 👍🏻)

Although this does lead to an interesting stand-off: Fred, upon seeing the town threatened with 3 days worth of fear toxin, immediately moves to let Crane go, while Velma stops him and refuses to consider compromising if it means Crane escapes. They both look legitimately frustrated at the other for taking the stance they do.

Fascinating~

------

Hmmm

Crane honey, I don’t know if your drones are made of flash paper and hope, or if Scooby and Shaggy are using the reeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaally old candy (the stuff made about ~3 years ago most neighborhoods give out to the teenagers that knock around midnight on Halloween) to shoot them down, but either way you may wish to speak with the manufacturer about this

Then again, this IS Shaggy and Scooby - they probably could’ve spat marshmallows at the drones and brought them down with equal success and explosions

(and good on them for shooting those down! Atta boy 👍🏻)

-------

Aw dang it

1. They still have Crane captured and now in handcuffs (despite having… you know… NOT been bound by anything except cross bolts in his curtain cape thing)

2. Dwight Schultz has decided to pitch his voice higher and more nasally than what he has. Hopefully this is more of an incredulous sort of pitch than something that sticks for the rest of the movie, ugh.

Also, I think they’re framing the movie to be more Velma-centric this time around - she’s the one explaining to Crane how they tracked him down, apparently through a piece of fan mail he sent Elvira (is that the only reason she’s there? Also why was Velma examining random pieces of fan mail for toxins, Elvira probs gets hundreds a week irl) and it looks like they’re framing something up on how fear isn’t something you can pretend isn’t there. neat!

------

whajit

53rd?

53rd?!?!

ONLY 53rd?!?!?!?!

Boooo, Scarecrow’s WAY more popular than that! I call foul

---

Okay why is Daphne’s schtick so far to spit laaaaaaame slang after every sentence Velma says

I would rather this not be her schtick

Actually could she go back to filming mystery stuff, bc at least I can pretend it’ll build into the OG Zombie Island Daphne

----

Phew, his voice has returned to its low, raspy goodness

also, Crane needs to learn about personal space, good grief

(interesting clue brought up tho - Crane only steals tech that CAN’T leak his toxin, ergo it can’t be tracked until he releases it. Sensible use, given that Batman probs tracks it if it does.)

----

Velma: I’m not afraid of you, Crane. Fear is an illogical reaction to an imagined threat.

Crane:

-----

Crane: Fearless, then. Intelligent. Proud and stubborn. You remind me very much of the one person in this world I care about.

uhhhhhh

Yourself? Harley? Edward Nygma? Ichabod the raven? Idk, I’m honestly curious as to where this thread will go 🤔🤔🤔

-----

Fred, leaning against the Mystery Machine: Guys, it’s gonna be okay. She told me!

O_o

Fred? Honey? Are you sure you weren’t supposed to join Crane in the transport vehicle back to Arkham?

----

OH SWEET JESUS SHAGGY GREW YAOI HANDS

WHAT THE HECK

THAT’S WAY MORE UNNERVING THEN YOU GUYS NOT BEING AFRAID ANYMORE

(although the fact that they’re both unsettled by NOT constantly shaking or having their heart racing is honestly kind of heartbreaking. Y’all need therapy, good grief)

----

Shaggy and Scooby just chewed up candy (wrapper and all) to make themselves a Halloween costume of… what looks like barfed-up candy (ew)

Before then proceeding to dance so well that everyone around them also starts dancing in a 60s-70s era rainbow light show and giving them candy

I worry for these two sometimes - that kind of power seems to be getting to their head 😬😬😬

---

Oh hey, acid green toxic waste is spilling from an 18-wheeler onto the Fear Toxin drones and emitting a purple pink haze that envelops a pumpkin patch! That won’t do anything suspicious at all I bet!

(wait is Poison Ivy going to come into this at some point)

(also major kudos to the music here - very 80s horror synth, I like)

----

So the Pumpkins have grown faces, limbs, consciousness, the ability to fly and a lust for human flesh

And they appear to be led by the Pumpkin King of the Pumpkin Patch mentioned in the Charlie Brown Halloween special

He’s not as friendly as I pictured him being, sadly 😕

---

Why is this random ass cop coming up to FD&V to say that they’re in over their heads… AFTER the mystery’s been solved?

Like dude, you’re only making yourself suspicious at this point, go home

----

Huh, interesting - the gang are being interviewed for a tv news network while they’re considered the town heroes

Why am I getting bad vibes from this…

Eh, it’s probably nothing

----

Velma: {Shaggy and Scooby} are, um… REALLY into the Halloween spirit.

Shaggy: THIS ISN’T COSPLAY, VELMA!

I’m dying 😂

------

Holy Shit

Velma just snapped and went off on Shaggy and Scooby for acting scared and doing nothing to help wrap up the mystery

(even though these guys are the ONLY reason that the gang didn’t have to choose between setting Scarecrow free and poisoning the entire town for 3 days straight, but hey, what do I know - I’m just writing an in-depth reaction post to this movie and taking note of details like this, clearly I know nothing *eye roll*)

Last time I saw Velma critique the guys’ usual mystery solving shenanigans, it was much more low-key and without knowing they were nearby

But I’m sure that’s just a coincidence

------

What the

Bills?

Bills?!?!

Fred just mentioned that fixing the Mystery Machine was going to leave a hefty bill and that they may need to get dishwashing jobs to earn money

Which is more of a job you might expect a high schooler to get on the go and yet

They actually have to pay bills

How old are they here??!

------

wait a tic

THIS is how they introduce Bill Nye?

He just calls up Velma with no explanation other than Velma saying “Oh hey, it’s Bill Nye!”

I just - what?!?!

How do you know him so well that he can just pull up your number and call you, and then geT YOU A NEW FREAKING CAR LIKE

WHAT?!?!?!?

Was there a Scooby episode with him in the past two years where the fcuk did this come from

------

Also the car is dressed like Bill Nye

And he can talk to the gang directly as the car

So that he can solve mysteries with them whenever he wants

This… this was not what I was expecting to come about from the Bill Nye cameo

(alas, poor predictions of being Crane’s roommate, you will not come to pass this day) 😔

-------

Ooooo, purple haze throbbing on the horizon! That’s always a good sign of things to come! 😀

------

And now Daphne’s… asking Elvira to mentor her fashion wise. And Elvira’s taking her on as her unpaid intern/personal assistant.

Yooo, movie, can you pick a direction and stick with it for Daphne? You’ve gone from her spewing outdated slang to wanting a costume for trick-or-treating, and now this.

-------

Welp, now I can say I saw a giant pumpkin dog vore an old woman

I didn’t WANT to see that mind, but I guess I can say it now 😐

------

OH SHIT NO

IT TURNED HER INTO A FLYING PUMPKIN SHAPED LIKE HER FACE

ABSOLUTELY UNSETTLING, 0/10 WOULD NOT RECOMMEND

-------

At least we get a nice scene of Daphne kicking the pumpkins’ collective butt

Something normal

------

Elvira: WOW! You’re a regular Mary Sue!

*falls over cackling*

------

And now there’s a giant purple fissure opening up in the concrete to swallow the town of Crystal Cove whole

(good, i whisper softly into the darkness of my living room. Let it fall)

--------

Man, I feel so bad for this single father right now

He’s gotten wrapped up in all of this nonsense with his daughter, and he is just Distraught at being chased by Jackal Lanterns, having the town collapsing under his feet, and having to gorge jump in his sedan to get away from the worst of it

It’s okay, Mike Dad - we would feel the same way in your shoes

-------

Hologram Bill Nye is wearing Cat ears and cat whiskers/nose, and is cleaning his hands like a cat cleans its paws

Why was this the movie we found out Bill Nye was a furry

Why Warner Bros

Why would you inflict this upon us in a Scooby Doo-Scarecrow mystery

-------

Hey, can Jonathan Crane return now? The movie needs its dignity back.

------

A clue on the whys here - the town was built on top of a MASSIVE lithium deposit, with the talks to mine it being scrapped due to environmental concerns. That’s actually a decent lead in for why some

-------

Welp

The Jackal Lanterns just went full Mad Max with the Halloween Parade floats and cars

No, I don’t have any idea why either, just roll with it

-------

Nice, they confirmed that Fred’s full name is still Frederick Herman Jones XD

Also a great little action sequence with Daphne - while there’s not much movement, they frame the scene dynamically, with some good quick wordplay. Very nice.

--------

Velma has a mind palace

Aight

--------

Velma: Shaggy, I could kiss you!

Oh, to hear this as a child, when I still hardcore shipped Shelma *sigh*

------

Oh thank gods we’re going back to Scarecrow again

------

Shaggy ate some Scooby Snacks, leapt out of a moving vehicle, and onto the backs of two flying pumpkins that he promptly reined in to fly to Crane’s prison transport

...yet again, I am amazed at the sentences I am led to type for Scooby Doo DTVs

------

Ah, how very Hannibal Lector of you, Jon

Man, he actually looks very meek in normal clothes - red long-sleeved shirt and grey slacks

-----

Hmmm

So Crane ISN’T behind the Jackal Lanterns - in fact he’s outright befuddled by them. This means his whole spiel to Velma earlier about both of them being caught in the same trap was… metaphorical? The breakdown doesn’t actually go into WHY he thinks they’re in the same trap - Crane’s whole schtick is tied to accepting fear, not denying it, so why would they be the same?

Either way, someone is using both him and Mystery Inc to do something to Crystal Cove (please be Red Herring, please be Red Herring, please be Red Herring)

Actually, that reference at the beginning really WAS a red herring - they framed it as being Jon the whole time when it wasn’t. Kudos!

Additional kudos to having Jon be seen more out of mask than in - he is a looker, and I aim to look as much as I can ;)

-------

Annnnd Daphne’s now trying to convince Elvira to switch clothes with her

I don’t get it - how on earth did we get from Daphne trying to find a good costume for trick-or-treating to asking Elvira to switch oh there it is nevermind.

-----

There is literally a scene where a giant buzzsaw is slicing towards Crane

and he just

stares at it

going “huh, that’s different”

And I LOVE IT

------

And here we have another fascinating scene: Velma going to free Crane from his cell, as Daphne tells her to just leave him to die by pumpkin

I’m wondering if they meant to draw a parallel between the two here - Velma starts by reciting a nursery rhyme, then overcoming her fears in order to release madness to take control. It’s not done very cleanly - mainly bc we barely have any time with Crane in this movie - but I wonder if they meant to insinuate that Crane was like Velma once, where he refused to acknowledge he was afraid, which caused him to lose focus on his initial goals

Idk, ignore my ramblings

---

Crane, smirking: I’ll need my personal effects - extenuating circumstances.

Me, fanning myself: I’ll need you to remove yours first

(i am not even kidding, Crane is an absolute DILF in this movie and it flusters me. Stupid sexy animation)

---

YAAAAAAAAAAASSSSS

SCARECROW TO THE MOTHERFCUKING RESCUE BABY, SCYTHE AND FCUKING ALL!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

----

FCUK YEAH THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

HE HAS A DANCE LIKE QUALITY WITH SOME OF HIS FIGHTING MOVES

VIOLENT DANCING BRINGS THE GIANT JACKAL LANTERN DOWN BABY

THEN HE BACKFLIPS AND GYMNASTIC SWINGS INTO THE VAN

ROCK IT SCARECROW FCUKING ROCK IT

(minor note here, but the subtitles show Dr. Crane instead of Scarecrow - unsure if that’s more that the movie calls him Dr Crane or if it indicates he’s acting more heroic than villainous)

---

GODDAMNIT

THE GIANT PUMPKIN SNUCK VINES INTO THE VAN AND STOLE HIM BACK

WHEN CRANE WAS... wearing a seatbelt before, but isn’t now.

...

BOOOOO

---

Yet again, we find a Scooby movie that attempts character development, but with Velma

Unlike Shaggy’s Showdown however, I’m mixed on how successful it is.

For starters, Velma hasn’t been this cocksure in other DTVs we’ve seen, so it’s a bit odd to see it now. While not 100% out of place - after all, the gang DID capture one of Batman’s Rogues Gallery on their own - it still feels a touch forced. Compare that to Shaggy’s Showdown, where Shaggy has ALWAYS been a coward (one that, in more recent years, writers have had willing to abandon his friends for safety), so the character development there feels more natural.

The progression of events with Velma actually work somewhat okay - but again, here’s where past DTVs come to bite them in the ass. The past handful have had the gang be wrong, have had them fail, or catch the wrong guy. This makes Velma’s attitude here at odds with the other films, something that sticks more due to a character that’s appeared in the past few films as a minor inconvenience - a Sheriff who keeps telling the gang not to interfere, they’re doing things wrong, etc. If this had been a character who was completely wrong in the past AND SHOWN TO BE WRONG FOR HIS OPINIONS, while the gang never guessed wrong, this would work much better. Unfortunately, it doesn’t, and here we are.

I think it would have flowed better if Velma’s cockiness came solely from catching Crane on their own. Have a random cop character or reporter or whatever (just not the recurring cop), insinuate that the gang is in too deep with Scarecrow, that he should be handled by the adults or professionals or whatever. Velma could bristle, overcompensate, and THEN fall from her pedestal like we see, reach out to the gang and commiserate over feeling scared, and grow. Again, it’s not too far to reach for, but they handle it poorly; as a result, the outcome feels a little more shoehorned in.

It’s an honest shame, bc we haven’t had a Velma centered story since Frankencreepy, and we all remember what a hideous fcuking mess THAT was *shudders*. Still, it somewhat gets its point across, I guess.

---

Fred why did you rip your shirt off

Actually better question why do you not have nipples

---

Awwwwwww

Velma just apologized to Shag and Scoob for snapping at them earlier, and admits how she doesn’t appreciate how much they make Mystery Inc what it is

Also she eats a Scooby Snack with them and admits they taste pretty good

----

Huh

Velma’s mind palace is the Mystery Machine driving through space

Also Shaggy and Scooby are able to telepathically follow her in and communicate with her

Literally, they actually followed her into her head telepathically, and show her their memories of things she hasn’t gotten to see tonight (while also possibly enhancing her ability to remember things, given how much DETAIL she captures perfectly of things that she would maybe have glimpsed in a millisecond AT MOST)

...another tally for Crack Theory A of magic! Shaggy and Scooby *scribbles*

-------

Fred, be very very thankful that there are no people operating those pumpkins in person cause uhhhh

Those traps would be spraying red instead of orange

------

Another weird music choice - the gang goes up to fight the Jackal Lanterns, but the music is the same 60s bubble we heard earlier

Not terribly atmospheric, really

(wouldn’t a Smashing Pumpkins cover of Scooby Doo be more appropriate, or did you guys spend all your money on hiring Elvira and Bill Nye?)

------

Dang

Velma just admitted her fears and jumped into the mouth of the Mega Pumpkin, before getting Fred to use the app from earlier to shut it down, revealing it to be a giant drone surrounded by smaller pumpkin drones

This feels… counterintuitive, but I’ll try to explain at the end

---

Okay

I’ll admit it

The Whodunnit is actually pretty decent in concept

There was a sprinkling of tidbits that could be assembled for the final conclusion and still make a decent amount of sense, all to find the sheriff doing it

Only he isn’t a sheriff

He’s a former Tech CEO who was also busted by the gang years ago in a case the Sheriff kept bringing up throughout the movie - due to his prison sentence, he lost more than half his wealth and the opportunity to expand it further with the Crystal Cove Lithium deposits

He was also someone who sold tech to Crane for his fear toxin distribution, where he got the idea to frame him for it

(tho on a side note, Crane is an absolute dork and a terrible liar - just look at the email he sent XD and that profile pic, my gods)

He deliberately picked at the gang for the past few DTVs (specifically 2: Return to Zombie Island and Curse of the 13th Ghost) to fracture their confidence, undermine them, etc - all so that in one fell swoop, he could retake his fortune, frighten everyone in town away from the mines so they couldn’t interfere, frighten away the gang (while also ruining their reputation as mystery solvers), and take Crane off the docket so he couldn’t identify the CEO when he pretended to be the sheriff

This… is actually a pretty damn good plan, for a Scooby villain. He was patient, manipulative, and clever, learning how best to tie up loose ends and win back what he lost. A clever revenge story that came so close to coming to fruition, and could have honestly been sold convincingly…

...if it hadn’t been done so much better in Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed.

Yeeeaaaah, this movie basically lifts the rough framework up from that one - past mystery villain comes back to attack the gang and ruin their reputation (tho this one decides to also make his fortune back and tie up loose ends with former criminal contacts, a la Crane). Gang is embarrassed in front of the news folk, another villain is framed for it (like Old Man Wickles of the Black Knight fame), and the gang must reconcile to foil the villain for good.

Although it also??? Merges elements of Frankencreepy in it?? The movie is focused on Velma, who is struggling to admit when she’s wrong (which ties into her fear, somehow… I’ll think on that point a little) and things purportedly go haywire when she won’t bend. This… isn’t illustrated as well here, since there’s very little direct cause-and-effect from Velma’s actions that would prove this point - that insisting her way is the right, best, and therefore only way to go ends up making things worse.

As much as I despised Frankencreepy (and I DESPISED IT), it did do that part well - showing that refusing to budge on something can lead to you hurting your friends (literally, in that one), and that admitting you were wrong and need help isn’t the end of the world.

(that movie also had former villains returning to gain vengeance upon the gang using psychological warfare, hm - may need to go over that one again, unfortunately).

It’s a shame, too - the basic elements for this plot are all here, they just need to be polished and reworked a bit to make a really fascinating movie.

------

Anyways, back to the asshat CEO who just… faked being a sheriff. Because white people can get away with that so long as they have the outfit and the car *throws up hands* (the sad part is this is probably something that actually happens)

As he drives away we see a familiar silhouette looming in the cornfields, watching him approach

Velma had Bill Nye on speaker, so he could record the entire confession for the federal officers nearby (who were taking Scarecrow back to Arkham), and track the phone signal to his exact location

And right as his holographic call cuts out, we see the shadow of a Scarecrow looming over him, causing him to scream.

When the feds arrive at his final location, both his body and the money have vanished. The car still sits, engine running, before the crows leering over him from the field vanish into the sky.

-------

Now that he’s dead, the gang walks and finds themselves at a Halloween party, with friendly faces and good food. The mystery is solved, though the culprit may never be found again.

Then Daphne admits to NOT trying to steal Elvira’s costume for Halloween, but instead trying to steal Elvira’s identity and replace her.

Something that she’s apparently nearly gotten away with on past mysteries working with Phillis Diller

*sighs* movie, why couldn’t you just stick to the costume schtick? This is just… so much worse.

-----

From there, Elvira walks off to wrap things up, reveal the monster face on the back of her head sans wig (which was also a monkey), and start the credits, where we see the gang working to bring the Mystery Machine back to its former glory a la Frankenstein pastiche.

This movie… this movie is a hot mess, but at least it’s an OKAY hot mess.

It really does feel like someone started writing a decent Velma-focused movie concerning the Scarecrow and a past Mystery Inc villain interfering, but was bogged down by notes from higher-ups: Wait! Write in Elvira! Also write in Bill Nye! Hey, let’s have a Mad Max car chase with the Jackal Lanterns! And have Daphne obsessed with literally becoming Elvira! Also make reference to things that we’ll insist be explained this way instead of a way that makes sense! Great!

(seriously tho, we never find out who Crane cares about most that reminds him of Velma, what the heck?)

It’s like two or three different scripts were smooshed together without being cleaned up - stuff is said that doesn’t get resolved, the celebrity guests don’t get to breathe much and feel squished together, and the build-up for the villain feels… less impactful, even knowing that he’s been in the past two films.

It might have worked if he’d been in… let’s say like 5 or 6 DTVs in a row, speaking roles for dissing the gang growing in each (ex start with “Good job kids! But maybe next time, leave it to the professionals, okay?” and growing more bitter from there), but only 2 feels kind of meh. Still, I do appreciate the clues we got to collect together, and they all work in the final breakdown of the scheme - some DTVs can feel like they pull stuff completely out of nowhere, so kudos there.

I appreciate what they wanted to do with Velma - give her a character development arc similar to Shaggy’s in Shaggy’s Showdown. Unfortunately, it wasn’t set up quite so neatly: they blended her ‘refusal to admit fear’ with her overconfidence that she was always right, and it led to a weird conclusion. To face her fears, she leapt into the Giant Pumpkin, which… proved that she was right all along about it being fake, and that solves things somehow. It doesn’t address how she can get something wrong sometimes, it doesn’t really address what she’s afraid of (which is honestly quite good: she’s afraid of failing in a way that allows bad guys to escape justice and in a way that hurts her friends), it’s just a bit of a mess. Points for aiming the focus the right way (and in a way that DOESN’T sexualize the underage teenage girl, unlike some DTVs cough cough Frankencreepy cough cough), but it’s very very messy how it goes about it.

The movie actually balanced pretty well for the whole gang - no excessive focus on one leaving the rest in the dust (too much at least - Fred was a touch underdeveloped, but nowhere near as annoying as past iterations have been. Shaggy and Scooby were kind of meh in some places but great in others, while Daphne was just odd. I think they were trying to recapture the BCSD Daphne characterization, but they failed. Still, she did spend some good time kicking ass with the pumpkins, so that was fun.

Now for the Rogue, Jonathan Crane. If you like Crane, this movie gives you: maniacal Scarecrow, calm and creepy Crane, a brief glimpse at fanboy!Crane (he admits in his own awkward way that he’s a fan of Elvira, and later tells her he loves her work - it’s fun), and (best of all for me) a heroic Crane - one who helps the protagonists and ends up kicking ass pretty damn well, brief as it was. And while DILF Crane is always a treat, he feels underutilized in this. In comparison, Scooby Doo/Batman Brave and the Bold really utilized a lot of different aspects of Riddler, to the point he actually does feel pretty menacing by the third act. It’s a shame we don’t quite get that with Crane, but I do love seeing him 1. More out of mask, and 2. Acting as a good guy (in his own way), so he’s enjoyable on the whole.

I kind of wish that the whole movie was spent more with Crane, but again, the script is a bit of a mess on this part - the fact that he’s not completely screwed over is a goddamn miracle.

Elvira was… okay. She didn’t have much of a purpose beyond getting the plot started and giving Daphne some hooks to play off of. Bill Nye (abrupt as his introduction was) did provide some necessary elements to the mystery, as well as the tech; he wasn’t too bad by the end. (still a touch bitter we didn’t get ex roommate Nye, but hey, what can you do)

Humor was… mixed. Some good, some meh, but very few long enough to feel painful. Some bits felt extraneous at times, but they did help to build to the conclusion, so points for effort.

At the end of the day though, I’m probably keeping this more for Jonathan Crane than anyone else. It does have a lot of fanfic potential tho 🤔🤔🤔

That’s all from me tonight, folks! Hope you enjoyed my own little breakdown of the movie.

#happy halloween scooby doo #plush reviews: final thoughts #jonathan crane #scarecrow #spoilers

32 notes · View notes

exhaustedfander · 4 years

Note

moxiety with fake dating? mayhaps with some gay panicking because ahhh cute stranger hold hngg hand??

I was having such stupid technical difficulties ith Word, but here it is, sorry it’s been like three weeks, lol. I’d love to hear what you think!

a03 link

word count: 3,008

Fake it Till You Make it

Virgil’s always careful whilst staking out a seat in the coffee shop he frequents. He makes sure not to sit in an area that’s too crowded, as to bypass unnecessary human-contact, while simultaneously avoiding the table too close to the door that lets a draft in. He’s been coming here a long time now, as it’s the closest place to his College, as well as the fact that the coffee is reasonably priced, and the atmosphere is pretty damn cozy. Also… there’s a barista that happens to be the cutest man Virgil’s ever laid his eyes on, but that’s beside the point!

By now, all of the staff know his order – a cinnamon Cappuccino with enough whipped cream to drown in – like the back of their hands, so he has to worry about social interaction a lot less than usual. The adorable barista in question, Patton, has only ever taken his order, sweet as can be while doing so, but Virgil’s never really talked to the guy. Not that he plans on it! That is waaay too nerve-racking to so much as think about, thank you very much. Sure, he can get lost in those ocean-blue eyes and often fantasizes about running his hand through those strawberry-blonde curls but talking to him is strictly out of the question. He likes this coffee spot and would really hate to have to find a new shop all because he’s made a fool of himself.

So, it’s not hard to imagine Virgil’s utter shock when he finds that very same barista standing beside him, a dazzling smile on his face.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, in reference to the chair beside him, and Virgil’s fairly sure he forgets how to breathe for a moment.

“Uh – no,” he manages to stutter, “It’s all yours, man.” The barista grins, sitting beside him.

“Thanks… Virgil, right?” Virgil blinks surprised he’d remember something as inconsequence as his name.

“Yeah,” Virgil says, “My, uh, friends call me Virge. You can, too, if you wanted to.” Virgil despises the way his voice is trembling; why is he so fucking nervous? It’s just basic, human, social interaction (with the most beautiful man to grace this Earth, but basic, human social interaction nonetheless)

“Sure, thing, Virge. I’m Patton,” he says, as though Virgil hadn’t memorized the name on his nametag the moment, he saw him. “I like your pin, by the way.”

Virgil glances down at the Bisexual pin on his backpack, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. It’s not like he’s missed the rainbow shirt he’s seen peeking out from behind Patton’s apron sometimes – an apron he doesn’t currently have on, meaning he’s off the clock, also meaning instead of going home, he’s sitting here, talking to him. So, yeah, Patton’s probably gay, and he’s talking to him, but that doesn’t actually mean anything. It doesn’t stop Virgil from panicking quite a bit, though.

“Thanks,” Virgil says, trying his absolute hardest to keep his cool. He’s wanted to talk to Patton for so long, but he hadn’t imagined it would ever actually happen.

“You come here a lot, huh?” Patton asks. Virgil rubs at the back of his neck, struggling to maintain eye-contact.

“Uh- yeah. This is a cool place, and it’s not too far from my school.” Virgil fails to mention the fact that Patton’s a big reason he comes in nearly daily, thinking such a detail might come off as super creepy.

As awkward as Virgil is, a conversation is struck up. He learns that Patton is a student at his college, too (How the fuck did he manage to miss a face like that??) and that he’s studying to be a Veterinarian, which Virgil finds a little funny, considering he’s terribly allergic to cats. Patton’s a big fan of dad-jokes and puns, and while he can try and groan, it just manages to make Patton all the more adorable. He also discovers that yes, Patton is gay and that he first came about a year ago.

“Yeah, my parents weren’t too thrilled,” Patton says in a voice that’s desperately trying to stay chipper, but the sorrow creeps in all the same, “They still aren’t.”

“Mine either,” Virgil says before he really knows what he’s saying, “I haven’t, uh, talked to them in a long time. I might never again, honestly.” A look of sympathy crosses Patton’s face, though it’s clear that he relates, maybe more than he wants to admit to himself.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Virge.”

Virgil shrugs. It’s nothing new. He came out to his parents at seventeen, a choice that was quite the feat considering the level of anxiety he suffers from, and it hadn’t gone well at all. His folks hadn’t kicked him out, but they’d insisted that he was never to take a boy home. At first, Virgil had tried to get on their good side, they were his parents, after all. But it didn’t take long for him to realize what a fruitless venture that was. They weren’t going to change, regardless of how much he wanted them to.

Once he got to college, he had an opportunity to meet a few really great people, despite his social-anxiety, individuals who had shown him how important it is to have positive relationships in life. At this point, it could undo a few years of positive change to let his parents back into his life, and Virgil wasn’t about to go and do a thing like that.

“It’s alright,” he says, “They’re assholes, anyway. I got some pretty cool relatives though, and some really good friends, so that helps.” Patton frowns, and suddenly Virgil decides he despises the sad expression on him, wondering what the hell he could do to make it go away.

“My parents are assholes too,” Patton murmurs, as though saying such a word is incomprehensively bad, and as if Virgil hadn’t said it too about three seconds ago. “They really are. I’ve been trying. Trying so hard to be patient with them and allow them time to adjust but… it just isn’t happening. They’re still talking about when I end up with “some lucky lady.” I don’t know…” Patton pauses, his eyes widening, “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry.” Virgil tilts his head.

“What for?”

“For dumping all that on you. I mean, we hardly know each other. It was rude of me.”

“Nah, man, you’re good. I was just talking about my parents, there’s no reason to apologize. And I should know, I’m kind of the king of apologizing for shit I didn’t do.” Patton cracks a small smile at that, and Virgil swells with a pit too much pride. “My point is, you didn’t overshare, or anything. We’re just having a conversation, you’re good, I promise.” Patton looks relieved.

“Thanks, Virgil. You’re really nice.” Virgil’s heart can’t help but soar a little bit at that. Sometimes, he’s convinced he’s a massive asshole, despite his friends insisting that it isn’t. but it’s really nice to know that Patton thinks he’s nice.

“No prob, Pat. You’re nice too.”

“Well then, I’m glad we were able to break the nice,” Patton says, earning a half-hearted groan. “I’ve kinda wanted to talk to you for a while, actually.” Virgil’s heart skips a beat.

“R-really? Why?”

“Because,” Patton says with a smile, “You always seemed so interesting. Mentioning your Pin was, uh, kind of just an excuse to talk to you,” Patton admits and, holy shit, is he flirting?! Virgil can’t tell, but sirens are going off in his head regardless.

“I – uh,” Virgil bites his tongue, trying to come up with a dignified response of some kind, but failing to do so. “Thanks?” Despite Virgil’s criminal lack of tact, Patton just smiles, a look that quickly disappears when he gets a notification and checks his phone.

“What’s up?” Virgil asks, before realizing it’s hardly his business. He’s known Patton for what? An hour or so now – oh my god, Patton’s been talking to him for over an hour – and that doesn’t give Virgil the authority to inquire upon the barista’s personal life beyond what he’s already been told. Patton shakes his head.

“My cousin Dalilah getting married next week,” Patton explains, despite Virgil’s hesitation, “She’s one of the only family members who I’m really close to; she’s such a sweetheart.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“My mom and dad are going to be at the wedding,” Patton sighs, “And I don’t have a date. If I show up without some guy on my arm, I know they’re just gonna assume that the crisis is over, and they can set me up with the next available girl. They already think me being gay is a phase, this is all the reason they need to think the phase is over.” A sad look flickers in Patton’s eyes and instantly, all logic or uncertainty that Virgil’s clinging to goes out the window.

“What if I was your date?” Patton’s eyes go as wide as saucers and, oh shit, he really just said that aloud.

“W-what?”

“L-like a fake date,” Virgil backpedals, his heart rate spiking in a matter of seconds, “So t-that your parents aren’t dicks to you. Or at least, are less of dicks.”

For a moment, Virgil almost dares to think that the explanation made Patton look kinda… disappointed? Not that it would make much sense, it’s not like he’d actually want Virgil to be his date.

“Virgil you… you can’t be serious.”

“Well, why not?” Virgil asks, knowing he’s most probably going to regret this later, “You’re a cool guy who’s in a shitty situation. Your parents are going to be relentless to you, and I don’t like the idea of that, so… why don’t I make things a little easier for you?” Virgil says, impressed he gets through it without feeling as anxious as he had a few moments ago.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Patton mumbles guiltily, his eyes cast on the table, “I wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your weekend just for me.”

“Pat, I was just gonna aimlessly scroll through Tumblr till two in the morning and watch shitty TV. And– erm– being your fake date sounds a lot more interesting to me.” (Not to mention nerve-racking!) Patton meets Virgil’s gaze once more, relief etched into his features.

“You’d really be willing to do this?” Patton asks, “You don’t need to, you know.”

“I want to,” Virgil assures. “So, what do you say?” Patton thinks for a moment before that beautiful smile spreads across his face anew.

“That sounds perfect! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Patton says, standing up from his chair and throwing his arms around the emo, “You’re a lifesaver, Virgil!” Virgil stiffens in the awkward embrace, before accepting it to the best of his ability, trying not to freak out because Patton fucking Hart is hugging him!

“Sure thing, Pat.”

After that, arrangements are made. As it turns out, Patton isn’t the biggest fan of lying, hates it, honestly, which makes things a little trickier. But a compromise is come to that they met each other in the Coffee shop, which was true and had been on a few dates prior to the wedding. While that wasn’t technically true (God does Virgil wish it was) they do spend several days throughout the week hanging out and getting to know one another. And within those few days, Virgil’s infatuation with Patton inflames to a full-on crush which is just great.

Getting better acquainted with him, Virgil finds himself quickly getting used to Patton’s bubbly personality. He’s eager to pet every dog he comes into contact with, he enjoys baking quite a bit, though he’s not great at it, he’s adorably awkward in the best ways and he’s one of the kindest, most genuine people Virgil’s ever met.

Usually, Virgil’s so well-guarded, but with Patton, he’s opening up quicker and more willingly than he has in such a long time. Patton listens with such compassion, and while Virgil’s really happy to have the other friends that he does, he’s never met someone as sweet as Patton is. It’s almost a little overwhelming at times, how caring he is.

Before they know it, the day is upon them. Virgil gets a rental suite while trying not to swoon at Patton in his sky-blue tux, because really, how is it legal for him to look that cute?

Patton grabs his hand the moment they walk into the venue, sending Virgil a careful glance and squeezing his hand just slightly.

“This okay?” He whispers, ever the compassionate one, and Virgil nods.

“Yeah, ‘s okay.” Virgil can’t recall the last time someone held his hand, and he certainly can’t remember the number of times he’s imagined Patton holding his hand, prior to them even being friends.

They take their seats, and the ceremony proceeds as usual. It’s beautiful, not that Virgil is paying too much attention, distracted by Patton’s nervous glances toward an older couple that must be his folks.

“Hey, are you alright?” Virgil asks quietly. Patton forces a smile, his eyes trained on his cousin and her fiancé.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m fine,” – he doesn’t sound fine –, “It’s just…” Patton trails off, his gaze flickering back to his parents for a moment. Virgil places his hand over Patton’s, who’s trembling is noticeable immediately. Carefully, Virgil runs his thumb over Patton’s knuckles in an even, circular motion. Luckily, it seems to calm Patton down to a degree, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Dalilah for the rest of the ceremony.

However, almost immediately upon the afterparty starting, they’re cornered by Mr. and Mrs. Hart.

“Patton, you didn’t come and say hello,” his mother scolds.

“Well, there were a lot of people,” Patton says nervously, “I figured we’d –.”

“Who’s this?” Patton’s father interrupts, gesturing to Virgil standing beside him.

“Virgil Storme,” Virgil says as calmly as he’s able, extending a hand for the father to shake. Mr. Hart’s hand remains rigid at his side. “I’m Patton’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you.”

Virgil can’t help but notice as anxiety wells up inside of him because, fuck, they’d never said they were going to call each other boyfriend’s, just that they’d been on a few dates, but Mr. Hart had such a smug look and he couldn’t help it. Despite his raging internal monologue, Patton plants a hand onto the small of his back, lips curling into a smile.

“That’s right,” Patton says, “Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend.”

The look of slackened shock on their faces would be priceless, weren’t it for the fact that these are still Patton’s parents, individuals who’ve had a direct influence on him throughout the entirety of his life.

“You’ve never – you’ve never mentioned a boyfriend before,” Patton’s mother says, glaring at her son.

“And certainly not one who looks like some kind of a hooligan,” Mr. Hart grits, gesturing to Virgil’s dyed purple hair and pierced ears. Virgil intends to let the insult go, as it would only cause more trouble to confront it, but Patton has other ideas.

“Hey, you have no right to talk like that about Virgil,” Patton says, an edge to his voice that Virgil had yet to hear until now. Virgil grips for Patton’s hand, lacing their fingers together and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“How long has this been going on, sweetie?” Mrs. Hart chimes in, though it’s unclear if she’s referring to Virgil himself, or Patton’s sexuality as a whole. Either way, it’s a poor choice of words.

“My whole life, mom,” Patton spits, a venomous tone that would surely be louder if they weren’t at a wedding, “I’ve been gay my whole life, and nothing is going to change that.”

“But –.”

“But, nothing,” Patton interrupts boldly, “I’m not having this conversation, not again. If you can’t accept the fact that I’m never going to end up with ‘some nice girl,’ and that Virgil is absolutely wonderful, then we haven’t got anything to talk about.”

The words are a slap across Mr. and Mrs. Hart's face, who reel back in shock.

“Patton, son –.”

“Goodbye,” Patton says, realizing it might very well be the last time he says it. He begins walking out of the reception and Virgil follows close behind. They make it outside, and luckily there’s no one else around.

“Pat… are you okay?” Virgil asks, reaching out to touch Patton’s shoulder.

“I’m done, Virgil. I’m done being gentle for them, I’m done pretending. It’s not worth it.” Pride wells in Virgil, even though he’s known Patton a little less than a week.

“Well, then, I can tell you that was amazing! You kicked ass, Patton! Did you see the stupid look on their faces? They were so –.” Virgil is quickly interrupted when Patton’s lips collide against his, fingers gripping his lapels. Virgil needs a second to adjust and realize this is actually happening before he kisses back just as fervidly, his hands threading in Patton’s curls that are soft to the touch, just as he’d always imagined.

“We’re – we’re not still pretending, right?” Virgil asks dumbly, and Patton shakes his head with a laugh, light, and airy.

“No, no of course not. Unless… you want it to be pretend?”

“No! God, n-no! You’re amazing, Pat, you’re so kind, and soft and good and cute and… oh god, I’m rambling.” Patton giggles again, and Virgil decides it’s one of the best sounds he’s had the pleasure of hearing.

“It’s cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“No, you are.”

The never-ending debacle of who is cuter is decidedly ended when their lips meet again, and Virgil’s positive this outweighs anything fantasy had to offer.

In the end, Patton hasn’t told a lie. Virgil is his boyfriend, even if they didn’t start the day out that way. The two walk back into the venue, hand-in-hand, watching as the Hart’s avert their eyes and Patton happily introduces Virgil to the family and friends who matter.

Virgil’s never been so glad he walked into that coffee shop.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@maryann-draws

Please let me know if you wanna be added to my general taglist! I’d be happy to add folks!

#moxiety #romantic moxiety #human au #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #fake dating #technically coffee shop au #I mean Pat's a barista #TW homophobia #TW homophobic parents #fluff #lotsa fluff #angst/fluff #Virgil's got it baaad #this was a fun one #request #exhaustedfander writes #exhaustedfander

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hockeysweetheart · 4 years

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Discribe a movie Badly See if anyone gets it...

How it works there are 10 movies I wont give anything In the hashtags. 1-10 Movies I discribed badly. Number them 1 to 10 of what you think the movie I am talking about is ... Some might be a series so I’ll take the name of it. Just comment below

1.Two Canadians meet He lives in the Country The she is from the city. They met at the fair. They fall in love. She moves away. He builds a house. She falls in love with someone who was in the war they get engaged. She goes back to the country after she sees him. They fall in love again. Also the narator is telling his story to his wife with dementa. So she remembers.

2.Women who’s been nominated for many oscars has three possible baby daddies For her daughter . Now her daughter is due to get married and did some sneaking around invited all three so she can find out who her real father is to give her out. They randomally break out into songs and have 2 supporting Aunts who don’t know their friend slept with all these men. But are supportive even fall in love with the 2 when its windled down... This girl and her fiance sing a song on the beach and it’s a whole musical number... Its until the evening before the wedding she doesn’t know who the father is. All she wants is her father to give her away... Its greek to me...

3.Boy wants to be king. The only problem is his skechy evil Uncle wants to be king as well. But the Boys father is the king. So they both Hatch a plan to kill the father. The boy is like no know what did I do runs away. Is raised by 2 men with prob a few mental issues. The girl of his dreams comes and finds him doesn’t know its him at first they sing a love song ... then tells him that the kindom and the lands in charge of is fu**** up with the uncle in charge so the only way is if he retains his title because hes next in line.

4.Girl lives in a poor town. She is mocked about it. Becuase shes the Prettier Smarter then the others and Lives with an inventer who is strange. Oh the town are anti readers too. This guy who thinks he can move her to his side hit on her and wants to marry her. She is like ha not a chance. He father goes off to the invention fair and she is on her own which is normal. He runs into wolves his horse throws him under the bus He trespasses into this big house. Which is owned by someone who really needs to shave Who can only do so if he falls in love if he can’t find love by a certain point he will look this way forever . kidnaps him away She knows something is not right the horse takes her to the big house.. sees her father in a jail cell. The man who owns this place says if you take his place I’ll let him go but you stay. Okay because her father is old she takes the deal. But then he gives her an actual room in the house instead of the prision cell. Because shes pretty lets make her feel like home. Then she meets her maid, her dresser, the house keeper The mans of the house chief steward. and basically the entertainer. And a the house keepers child and the pet dog. And together they all come and show her this hairy man is not evil as he may seem they fall in love on their own however. He lefts her go be with her father who is sick. Still hairy man but he let her go because he loves her. And she goes back home realizes the man who wants to marry her has locked her ill father in a cell... throws her in too because she refuses to marry him. Goes and kill this hairy man with the whole freaking town. She gets out goes to the hairy man. But the dumb ass man who wants to marry her shot him. Hairy man almost dies but is saved when she kisses him...

5.They lived in a poor town. Once a year they get a chance for a few of them to become Royal. They have a team of Drunky, Perky , Stylish, who guide them to their guide to be royal. ...For a bit Until the day the evil dictator locks them in an escape room but says the only way you will live if you murder people you just met. And only one shell live and go home. Its a trap... Until this girl falls in love with this boy and evenually both of them are allowed to live because it would be slap in the face if no one came out alive. which they were gonna do because they love each other that much. Now the only problem is back home this guy loves the girl. So she must choose who to pick one shes been to hell and back with and a pretty boy who suddenly wants her... Oh and the evil Dictator hates her because she broke the rules... Forces her into marrage of this boy and expects them to have children to so he can be like pay back is bitch and throw the ones who surived the escape room for the first time ever two of them their child into the room. And be like the biggest you have zero control over this ever. But then he gets the idea to send them back into the escape room with other people who already escaped the room before hoping they would die this time only there is a plan to pick the lock and half get captured half are free... And these two lovers are seprated due to this. And she is a hot mess. And unknownly the plan to over take this evil dictator. So she agrees to do it because duh. But then when she gets her man back he trys to kill her and she trys to write him off but all she can think about is him and says I will kill this evil dictator if its the last thing I do. The man who wants her heart kills this girls sister and she is like easy choice learns to love the guy who tried to kill her again and they live happly ever after...

6. He was the trouble maker. She was a goody goody christian girl. Whos daddy was the pastor. One day they meet becuase she is volunteering and he is doing community serivce... as part of it he has to do this school play and he realizes he is crushing on her and he crushing on him. They fall in love. She changed his life to take a better path. Then he founds out she is sick doesn’t have very long to live. Goes to his father hes not talking to. Asks him for help because hes a doctor. And she gets treatment at home because his father agreed to help out. Anyways they kill two birds with one stone get Engaged and Married pretty fast. A few months later she died of her illness.

7. She has been home schooled her whole life. Moves to a new area and the parents decided to put her in high school. And she goes in and to be in this high school you can’t be a sad loner because there is no lunch room table for that your eating in the bathroom stall. So she becomes friends someone who has it out for the popular girls.. And uses the new girl to befriend the popular girls to get revenge on them.. One of them is Canadian... But she is after one guy who is an ex to the popular girl... they get back together and she is Jealous of them. Tells the boyfriend that shes cheating on him... and They have this boolk talking about everyone... And this girl wants this the ex but he doesn’t want her. she has this house party where the friends who put her up to this come by tell her off pretty much. then the popular girl walks in on the girl and boy talking.. also this girl becoming a part of the popular one she is sabotaging the popular girls in doing that she is making the popular one who wants to loose weight become fat girls new boyfriend tells her what she is eating makes her fat. and she is pissed when she finds this out and goes home angry puts her self in this book and tells the pricipal about it the next day Pin it on her friends and the new girl. Then she breaks into the copy room throws the copies shes made all over the school. While the girls are being talked to and everyone who is in this book sees what is written on them... Then they have this meeting in the gym and they say their feelings and the girl who put up the new girl to do everything tells everyone and then the popular girl gets hit by a bus and is okay but then the new girl says she wrote everything in that book and got in trouble for it and has to do some math thing for it gets grounded by her parents and her dad lets her go out she wins prom queen and bam shes liked again

8. A talking donkey finds a new owner in the middle of no where because he is to be sold. He befriends his new owner. Who doesn’t want him. and Then the king thought the donkey needed a friend and sent everyone who was un normal to this green dudes house to be firends with the donkey. Then Green dude is like one pet is enough. Goes to the king says give them to a reserve but he and the donkey have to save a princess in a tower and bring her back to the king to be married. This king has a sweet tooth because he took the legs off a ginger bread man... Anyways This donkey and green dude go on this adventure to save this princess. But shortly the green dude and princess fall in love. And are just over how annoying this Donkey is and this princess at sunset she turns green to and the donkey finds out they talk green dude gets mad then gets the king to get her princess. they are to married before sunset. Becuase she keeps her being green quiet... But then the donkey and green dude crash the wedding. Green dude admits to being in love with her and she feels the same and they get married. and once they are Married both are green...

9. This dude whos got beef with anyone better then him has more power. Wears all black his minons dressed in white. He is pissed his wife left him years ago after he learned she gave birth to twins one girl one boy. And it’s a world you don’t know your parents. Because they agree to fight because a robot and grown teddy bear and some alian guy help them realize they have more power then this guy... okay so its 1 girl 2 dudes after this girl and one of the dudes is a sibiling to this girl. She gets kidnaped by this dude whos got beef gets saved. Finds out that she is sibilings with this one of the dudes. The dude finds out this dude whos got beef also done so much evil is his father and he’s like I kissed my sister nooooooooooo... And they have a sibiling realtionship after that. Oh and dad wants the son to join the dark side....

10. This rich dude who owns a factory. Shut the doors until one day he is like I want to retire soon lets give it to a kid whos about 10. But before that happened he had an easter egg hunt and people who find the golden ones got a chance to tour his factory which has been closed for the longest time. Then this poor boy finds one. and Is meet in a creepy ally but this creepy dude saying he wants to know the secerts inside. The boy runs off. Home tells his family who cannot afford 4 beds. That they could go to the factory. He picks his grandfather who was bedridden can suddnely walk... And they are in there with a spoiled brat, A Kid who eats everything. A girl who chews gum. A kids obessed with tv. and Him a poor boy. And one by one they get taken off and these orange men sing a creepy ass song each one who gets “ lost”. And each area they are tested until one comes out. Tho this boy broke the rules he kept the secert that the owner of the joint said to keep to themselves. and Gives the favtory to him

#movies #told badly #discribing movies badly #discribing #why doesn't tumblr have a spell check yet #its 2020 #movie

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vivxwrites · 5 years

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Guardian Angel || Part IV

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1690

Summary: I think you know the deal by now

Warnings: Weirdly dark (I think that’s all)

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

A/N: Here’s part four, hope you all enjoy!!

Parts: {I}, {II}, {III}, {IV}, {V}

‘Where to start, where to start,’ you tapped your chin and wracked your brain. ‘Eh, the beginning will suffice.’ You cleared your throat and began, “I’m not too sure what you humans would call my type but up in heaven we are known as ‘Guardian Angels’. I don’t know how long we’ve been around, but we are tasked with protecting humans from the dark realm and ensuring that each person follows along the life course that is set for them. Each of us is with a certain mark from birth till death, stepping in only when it is vital for us to do so.”

He took in the information, processing it and storing it away for later. He would be lying if he said it hadn’t peaked his curiosity .“What happens when your mark dies?”

The answer slipped right off of your tongue, “We get a new one.”

“Just like that?” He was shocked, but you nodded. “Ok, what do you mean by ‘the life course that is set for them’?”

You furrowed your brow line but answered anyway, “Each person has a predetermined life, one that we are designated to ensure is fulfilled.”

His eyes widened at your statement, “You’re telling me that I didn’t choose this life, that it was chosen for me?”

“Yeah that’s what I just said.”

“I call bullshit on that. I chose this life for myself.” You shook your head and sighed, humans. “Do you have any abilities?” His face had hardened into a more serious expression after he had asked his last question.

You cocked your head to the side in question, “Abilities?”

Fury sighed, “Can you do anything special? Anything that a human would not be able to do?”

“Oh but of course. We Guardian Angels are a much more advanced species.” Fury rolled his eyes at you but you didn’t notice. “I can speak telepathically and influence one’s mind to do whatever I please. I used to be invisible to the human eye, though I guess that is no longer true. I am invulnerable to most things, the only way I can really be hurt is if something is laced with silver.” You rubbed your temple in thought, knowing there was something you were forgetting. “Oh! I can also fly.” You gestured proudly to the damaged wings on your back.

“So basically an overpowered Wanda?” Fury chuckled to himself at his joke, it going right over your head.

“What is a Wanda?” In all of your time in Earth realm you had never heard of a “Wanda” before.

Fury waved a hand, dismissing your question. “Don’t worry about it.” He paused, “You have a name?”

“Oh yeah! (Y/N) (Y/L/N), pleased to meet you.” You flicked your hand out and grasped his, finding and holding eye contact, staring deep into his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” Fury gave you a weird look, similar to the one that Monica had given you when you had first crashed through her ceiling.

You quirked a brow at him, “Is this not how humans greet each other? I have been practicing for an occasion such as this one.”

Fury only gawked at you and pulled his hand from your grasp. His gaze hardened suddenly. “Another question for you. Last year a friend of mine lost someone dear to them. The circumstances weren’t normal, a demon of sorts appeared and she got hit. If you’re supposed to protect humans from this so called “dark realm,” where were either of their guardian angels?”

You paled and hoped that your face would not betray you, he was most certainly talking about the incident with Carol’s girlfriend last year, one that was entirely your fault. It spiraled much too quickly and you let yourself become distracted, the entire situation one that you still feel entirely guilty for. “I’m not too sure.” You spoke meekly, but Fury must have chalked your tone up to something else, because he didn’t question you on the subject any further.

“I’ve got one final question for you. How do you know who I am, and Maria Rambeau too?”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably, fiddling with your hands as you went. You gave him a tight smile, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“You sure about that?” It was his turn to quirk an eyebrow as he waved his hands throughout the cell, reminding you of your imprisonment.

You nervously nibbled on your lip and clenched and unclenched your hands. After a little debate, you settle on revealing as little information as possible, “My mark is familiar with the pair of you.”

“What do you mean by familiar?” His lips drew a tight line as he interrogated you.

You shook your head from side to side and crossed your arms. “I can say no more.” Fury gave a tight, little nod, he would just have to accept your answer.

All of a sudden a sharp searing pain scratched down your back and you let loose a violent scream. Your knees buckled below you and the pain had weakened you enough to bring you to the floor entirely. You hissed and writhed in pain, Fury’s shouts going unanswered as your ears rang with a high pitched frequency. The ringing stopped and the room shifted around you, the walls disappearing as the shocking white color of heaven’s skies appeared in front of you. Your body was paralyzed and you had no choice but to stare confusedly at the sky above you, watching as angels rushed all about, handling their daily tasks. Your eyes felt heavy, the various sights almost hypnotizing to watch, your ears were oddly hypersensitive and you picked up the quiet-as-a-mouse sound of light footsteps moving towards you.

“Guardian Angel #564, you fell in love with a mark, an action that is highly forbidden and leads to immediate removal from the Realm of Heaven.” Stan, you recognized the voice, though you could not see him anywhere and your head was stuck staring skyward. “Now 564, you were one of our most elite angels, so I was willing to bend the rules for you. I have been keeping a keen eye on you, monitoring your movements in Earth realm and I have to say it was quite shocking to overhear you telling that man our business. And to think I was going to allow you reentry once you were able to see how brattish humans are and learned your lesson. How foolish of me.”

You paled when you realized that Stan had listened in on your conversation with Fury. You heard Stan step closer to you and you could feel his very presence right beside you. A hand gripped your chin harshly and yanked your head in their direction. Tears pricked your eyes at the harsh action and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “Do you know what happens to angels in Earth realm?” You opened your mouth to reply but he tightened his grip on you and clicked his tongue, “Nod only. I do not want to hear you speak, understand?” You nodded your head as much as you could in his grasp and he hummed. “564, do you know what happens to angels in Earth realm?” You shake your head ‘no’ and he chuckles, bemused with your answer.

“Do you remember when I said that I was willing to bend the rules for you?” You nodded and he continued, “I was going to allow your wings to fall off slowly, painlessly, until you were able to learn your lesson and return. As that is no longer the case, you are going to face the real punishment, however I’ve decided to up the ante and give it to you tenfold for your betrayal.”

Your eyes widened and your body shook with fear, tears falling freely from your eyes. You shook your head from side to side vigorously and though you couldn’t see him, you felt Stan smirk widely. “Good you are afraid, as you should be. I can’t believe I didn’t see the human in you from the beginning.”

Your bottom lip trembled furiously and a strangled cry of “please” left your mouth.

“I thought I told you not to talk,” Stan growled. Your sobs grew in volume at his words. “Weak, you are weak 564. Enjoy the pain of the stripping of your wings.” With a snapping sound your vision blurred and the air around you morphed once more, back into the glass cell with Fury.

The searing pain returned tenfold, just as Stan promised, and you screamed intensely. Your voice was slowly turning hoarse as your screams continued and your throat turned raw with overuse. You rolled around on the ground, trying desperately to escape the pain, to no avail. Fury pinned your arms to your sides and held you down, “What the hell is going on?”

You gasped for air and fought to speak in between screams, eventually getting out a broken, garbled “help.”

Before Fury could get out a proper response, Carol and Maria burst into the room, both panting. Carol looked wildly around the room until her eyes fell on you, still screaming. Her eyes widened and she looked from you to Fury, confused. “Danvers, are you back?”

Fury glanced towards Maria and she shrugged her shoulders at him. “I- I don’t know, we heard screaming and we came as fast as we could. Is she ok?” Carol’s voice was soft and full of concern, Fury guessed she was almost fully present at best.

“I don’t know. One second she was fine but the next she was screaming into next Saturday.” The three traded glances and focused their gazes on you. You were still screaming, although the sound had warped and dulled down, a result of your now raw, scratchy throat.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent approached the group, a look of concern etched onto his features at your screaming. “Director Fury, sorry to interrupt but we’ve just received an emergency signal from the skrulls. Immediate backup is requested.”

Fury cursed under his breath, “Danvers, you think you can suit up?”

A/N: Um, so I don’t know what came over me while writing this but I hope it doesn’t give anyone nightmares or anything. Anyways, there it is :0. Up next, probs another Nat fic then part 2 of my other series, or vice versa. Chow, Viv :)

Guardian Angel Tag List: @vxidnik @envy-adamss @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @worlds-in-words @justarandomhumanhere @letalexaplaydespacito @natblidaclexa @skyella01

Permanent Tag List: @aesthetiff @autumnjackson4 @captainwonderwidow @5aftermidnight @gigglygwil @fansanctuary @lesbian-x-blackwidow @taramitch96

P.S. Want to join the tag list gang? All you have to do is ask! Make sure to specify which one, just so I can make sure to add you for my future fics :)

[NEXT]

#guardian angel series #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers imagine

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momentofmemory · 5 years

Text

fictober - day seven

Prompt #7: “No, and that’s final.”

Fandom: Spider-Man (All Media Types/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: Canonical Character Death

Rating: PG

Characters: Peter Parker & May Parker, Ben Parker (mention)

Words: 2461

Author’s Note: part v of a may & peter series, but can be read as a stand alone. we all knew this was coming but that doesn’t really make it any easier, im so sorry. i wound up cutting out a lot for time’s sake, so i’ll probs buff it up a bit when i clean it up later. but for now, enjoy :)

>>No Strings Attached

Peter is four. No, Peter is fourteen—but Peter is four.

Peter is four, because it’s just not possible that May would have to drive through the dead of night to a police station, fear lancing through her heart, twice in one lifetime.

May fights back tears and races into the one hundred and seventh precinct, and it’s just as frantic and overwhelming as it was ten years ago—except Peter is fourteen, and Ben isn’t here to fight off the officers that intercept her this time.

They tell her she doesn’t need to ID the body, and her stomach churns when she realizes that it’s because Peter already has.

Still, they ask her if she wants to see him anyway, and she does, she does, because she saw Ben just barely under an hour ago and it already feels like an eternity.

(Mary is thirty-six and thirty-six and thirty-six, and Richard is thirty-eight and thirty-eight and thirty-eight, but Ben is fifty-one and god, how can there not be a fifty-two?)

What she says is: “Where’s Peter?”

They tell her he’s been taken to one of the back rooms to get cleaned up and get a change of clothes, and that it could be a little while before he’s ready for her.

One of the officers asks her if they’d like her to dispose of his old clothes, and May’s brain refuses to compute why that would be necessary. The officer glances at his partner, and then explains that the stains will probably never come out.

May clutches at the desk to keep from dropping to the floor, and manages to stammer out permission to do whatever they want to with them.

Peter is fourteen.

(But Ben is fifty-one.)

She wavers, torn between her grief for Ben and her desperation to see Peter.

“Take me to him, please,” May says, because it doesn’t feel real yet. “I want to see my husband.”

She does, and it feels real.

She locks herself in one of the bathroom stalls and cries and cries and cries, because Ben is gone and she doesn’t know how to live in a world without him in it, and she doesn’t know how to take care of a teenager by herself, and this wasn’t supposed to happen.

But it has, so at the fifteen minute mark May scrubs away her ruined mascara, splashes the coldest water she can stand across her face, and asks the officer outside the door if Peter is ready yet.

When she walks into the room Peter’s been told to wait in, it feels so much like that night she can almost hear Ben arguing on their behalf in the background, because Peter’s sitting on the floor, back squashed against the wall, orange shock blanket draped haphazardly across his shoulders.

It steals May’s breath away, because for a moment, all she can see is a Peter who is four.

A piece of paper is clenched in his fist, and his hands are raw and red-looking, like he’d been scrubbing at them for hours. Peter looks up, and when his red-rimmed eyes meet hers, her soul cracks in half because he is, inarguably, a Peter who is fourteen.

May stumbles across the room and frantically checks him over. The officers told her he was unharmed so she’s not really looking for anything, but she needs this to feel real, too. Finally satisfied, she takes his hand into hers and asks him if he’s okay.

He stares at the desk in front of him and shakes his head. No.

May wraps a hand around the back of his head and pulls him to her. She plants a kiss in his hair and strokes his back, because he may be fourteen, but she’s only fifty-three.

(And Richard is thirty-eight—and Mary is thirty-six—and Ben is fifty-one.)

______________________

When the day of the funeral comes, Peter is almost late, and May would have been furious at him if she’d had any energy to spare. He’d been acting weird ever since the science trip to Oscorp three weeks ago, and apparently even a funeral is not enough to change that. They stand in the receiving line next to each other, and pretend to smile and tell the well-wishers that no really, they’re okay.

Halfway through, one of Peter’s classmates—Michelle, May’s brain supplies—pushes to the front of the line and says, “Some new vigilante dropped off the mugger at the precinct forty-minutes ago.”

May stares at the girl, uncomprehending.

“He still had the gun on him, so as long as the prints match there shouldn’t be any trouble getting a conviction.” She shrugs. “Thought you’d want to know.”

Several of the people in hearing distance nod approvingly, but their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Dara, just scoffs. “Typical vigilantes. Only show up in time to clean up the mess, not stop it.”

Michelle glares at the woman, and then gives May a salute that’s awkward, but not mocking. She slips off to wherever she came from, and May realizes that she does feel a bit lighter knowing that Ben’s killer can’t hurt anyone else.

May keeps smiling and shaking hands, and it takes four people passing by before she realizes Peter is no longer by her side.

______________________

May guilts her supervisor into letting her off early her first day back to work, because the pitying stares and I’m so sorrys are enough to make her want to drive her headset through a wall. Money is already too tight for her to have to pay for damages, so instead, she signs out of work at 1:30, and takes the train the long way home because the normal route reminds her too much of Ben. She gets off two stops early, buys a coffee she can’t afford, and avoids the eyes of every couple she passes.

Peter had texted that he’d be spending the night at Ned’s, so May fully intends to go through an entire case of beer the second she gets home. She also intends to pull up every single home video they have, which is a decent amount thanks to Peter, and bawl her eyes out while curled up in one of Ben’s old sweaters.

This plan is completely derailed when May goes to unlock the apartment door and it nearly slams open in her face.

Peter is standing on the other side, hoodie pulled up around his face and bags under his eyes. He clearly wasn’t expecting her arrival, just like he clearly isn’t happy about it.

“May!” he says, scrambling back as May pushes her way into the apartment. “How’re you—what’re you—what’re you doing here?”

“What am I—what are you doing here?” May notes the way Peter is edging towards the door, and so she clicks it shut with her foot.

“I just needed to get some stuff for tonight and now I have it, so, bye?”

“Whoa, buddy,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder to lead him away from the door. “Try again.”

Peter shimmies out of her grasp, and the movement dislodges a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It falls to the floor and his eyes widen, coloured with an emotion May can’t place, and he scrambles after it. He’s faster than May’s ever seen him, but not fast enough to reach it before she’s placed her foot firmly on top, pinning it to the ground.

He looks up and she jerks her head in its direction. “What’s this?”

“Nothing,” he says, definitely too quickly for it to be true.

May slides her foot across the floor, and the paper with it, until it’s directly under her.

“May, please—”

She ignores him and bends over to pick it up, unfolding it and smoothing out the wrinkles.

It’s a piece of printer paper, and the watermark on the top is from the NYPD—May suddenly remembers seeing him with it in the back room. There’s one line drawn in black ink down the middle, dividing it in half, and red, blue, and purple tally marks fill it nearly two-thirds of the way down on the left side. The right, however, is completely empty.

May lingers on the different colours, knowing Peter’s too disorganized to have more than one colour of pen on him at one time. She frowns. Peter must have been keeping track of something over multiple days, or at least multiple sittings.

Her eyes flick up and meet his. He looks at the floor.

She takes a sip of her coffee and wishes it were something stronger, and then places the cup on the counter. “What’s going on, Peter?”

“I—” Peter’s eyes dart back and forth between her and the door. “It’s nothing.”

“I majored in bullshit, Peter. Try again.” The dividing line stands out starkly on the page and suddenly, it clicks. She lowers the paper and stares over the top of her frames. “You wanna tell me what was so important you had to make a pros and cons list in a police department?”

Peter loops his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and mumbles something May can’t pick out.

She places a finger behind her ear. “Excuse me?”

“It was—nevermind.” Peter pauses, and kicks his foot at nothing. “It’s nothing, and I’m going out now.”

“You got somewhere you need to be, Parker?”

Peter groans, the hood of his sweater falling off as he cards anxiously through his hair. “This is exactly why you weren’t supposed to be here.”

“I can’t be in my own apartment now?” May can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Who do you think pays—”

“That’s the problem!” Peter shouts, and he whirls around, and May’s startled by the unshed tears in his eyes. Then he deflates. “Or at least... one of them.”

"Then what’s the problem?”

Peter starts to just shake his head, and then his back straightens. He sets his jaw. “...I’m leaving.”

“Yes, you’ve said that.”

“No, like.” Peter bites his lip. “Leaving.”

May stares at him.

“Forever.”

The world drops out from underneath May, because out of all the things she’s expected to come out of Peter’s mouth during her long, sleepless nights, this has never been one of them. May’s eyes jerk back and forth between Peter, who’s inching towards the door, and Ben’s empty chair.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, if you so much as step one foot out that door you are grounded for life.”

Peter shakes his head, a hysterical determination in his countenance. “No. No, I thought this through.”

“Clearly not enough,” May snaps, grabbing his wrist.

Peter breaks her hold easily, and May’s taken aback because when has Peter gotten strong?

“I’m not—I can’t—” Peter chokes, his throat tightening. “I can’t be around you. Or anyone.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I—he—” Tears start running down Peter’s face. “Look at the tally marks.”

May does, and for the first time, notices that the very first lines are not red at all, but only reddish: rust-like in colour, unusually thick and too inconsistent to be from a pen.

Almost like blood.

Oh god.

“Peter,” May says, wanting to hold him but scared he’ll bolt if she does, “Peter, it isn’t your fault.”

Peter shakes his head. “I could have stopped him. I could have, May, and I just—I let it happen all over again. I killed my parents and I killed Ben and I can’t stop thinking about how I’m going to get you killed, too, and I could have stopped it this time—”

“Peter, look at me.” May throws caution to the wind and grabs him by the shoulders. “He had a gun. Okay? I don’t care if you’re four or fourteen, there was nothing you could have done to—”

“You don’t know that!”

The apartment echoes with the sound of his shout, but the empty space between them echoes louder. May drops her hands from his shoulders and Peter’s fists quake at his sides.

“Okay. You know what? You’re right.” May says, taking a step back. “I don’t.”

Peter sucks in a strangled breath, but May ignores him. Instead, she rifles through the apartment, tossing pillows off couches and overturning magazines, until she finds what’s she’s looking for: a green ink pen. She snatches it up and walks over to the dining room table, and slams the paper down.

“All right, let’s try this shall we?” She uncaps the pen and starts to draw. “First off, we’ve got the lying. Constantly. And for god knows why. You’re late for everything, no matter how important and how many times I remind you. You space out in the middle of conversations. You’re unnecessarily snappish, you’re irresponsible with your things, you have an annoying tendency to vanish on the rare occasion you actually do show up. You’re a teenage boy so you break shit all the time, which I then have to pay to replace. Your uncle—”

May cuts off, her throat having closed up. Hot, salty tears land on the page, blurring the ink. May doesn’t know if they’re hers or Peter’s.

“—your uncle died in front of you. So did your parents.”

She finishes writing with an aggressive swipe, green tally marks littering the paper for every damning thing she’s said. Peter’s jaw is clenched so tightly May can hear his teeth grinding together, but it can’t stop his tears from spilling out.

“And you know what?”

Peter jerks his head, no, not trusting his voice. May abruptly rips the paper clean in two.

“I don’t care.” She crumples up the side holding the tally marks, leaving only the blank piece intact.

“You could have pulled the trigger yourself and I still wouldn’t let you go.”

A sob rips out of Peter’s chest, and he shakes his head. “I can’t, I can’t. I–I messed up so bad, May.”

“No. You listen to me, remember? Me.” She holds up the blank sheet of paper. “You see this? There are zero reasons written here, Peter. Zero. You could have a million reasons on the other side, and it still wouldn’t matter because I don’t need a reason to know you’re mine.”

Peter’s lip trembles. “But I—”

“No. And that’s final.” May reaches out and wipes the tears off Peter’s cheek with her thumb. “I’ve already lost Ben. I’m not losing you too.”

Something snaps. Peter’s backpack drops to the floor and he crashes into her, hugging her like he hasn’t in years and sobbing I’m sorry, I’m sorry into her shoulder.

May hugs him back and they rock back and forth in the kitchen, and when Ben doesn’t come up to join them, she sobs, too. But she doesn’t let go.

“I promised you forever Peter. No strings attached,” May whispers, tears running down and merging with his. “Just me.”

#fictober19 #tw:canon character death #tw:blood #peter parker #peter parker fic #may parker #spiderman #fanfiction #may&peter #im v tired #and should not be allowed to write after midnight #so #sorry the quality's kinda all over the place #memsfic

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Skeletons in the Closet (baon)

Summary: This is Red's punishment for dealing with amateurs.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic, Humor

Note: I'm so busy with work this week, but I got the idea for this and had to go with it. I don’t have the focus for actual plot lines, and sometimes I just amuse myself. Heads up for upcoming kustard next to our normal spicyhoney.

Again, this is set before 'Any Other Tuesday'.

'Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

“this is a stupid fucking idea, you know,” were the first words out of Sans’s mouth as they stepped out of the shortcut. The living room was still, the lamps off, but there was enough light coming through the shades to make it easy to see. The room was neat as a pin, even the remotes were lined up on the coffee table and Red wondered, not for the first time, how the hell a neatnik like his bro and a slob like Stretch were compatible.

Years of living with him had probably given Edge a complex or a fetish or something, poor kid. It could have been worse, he guessed; at least he didn’t come down with a freaky thing for dirty socks.

“what’s stupid is that you can’t come up with a better battery for these things,” Red retorted, but there was no heat to it. The amount of fucks Red had to give today was sitting on empty and that was a fact. “changing ‘em out all the time is a bitch and a half.”

Red crawled underneath the end table, using the flashlight on the phone to guide him as he poked at the joints. One of them held a tiny audio device and he couldn’t remember which one.

“you wanted ‘em tiny and portable," Sans said lazily. "can’t have everything, sweet cheeks. what i don’t get is why you needed two different types.”

“gotta have ones for stretch to find and ditch, so he doesn’t keep looking for the other ones.” Ah, there it was. Very carefully, he pulled out the device. It was the size and shape of carpenter nail, unobtrusive. Just as carefully, he replaced it with the new one and scooted back out. “you didn’t need to come.”

Sans snorted at that, shuffling after him as he replaced one in a picture frame. “yeah, kinda did, or i would have to come up with a spy device to spy on you installing spy devices. i like to keep my inception to one level.”

“don’t trust me?”

“you’d never respect me if i did.”

“who says i respect you now?” Red asked idly, swapping out one on Edge’s toy shelf. It seemed a little wobbly but Red shrugged mentally and moved on.

Sans scratched at his cheekbone with an upraised middle finger. “you have a pretty healthy respect for my blowjob skills.”

“i’ll give you that.”

“besides, if i tag along, i can make sure you leave ‘em in the living room and kitchen only. i know you’re a paranoid motherfucker, but that’s the furthest line i’m willing to cross. that and sound only.”

“video would be useful as fuck, you know.”

“a video feed would make them too large and a fuckton easier to track. plus, you don’t need it, j. edgar hoover.”

That was true. He didn’t, not really. If he were honest, he didn’t even use the audio devices that much. It wasn’t like he was tuning in to his daily podcast of the ‘Life and Times of the Honey Bun and the Bro’. Just every once in a while, a quick little check in to hear their voices, confirm everything was on the up and up.

Of course, if Sans would stop being a little bitch and let him put one in the bedroom, he’d be able to check nightly on their snoring but eh, he’d take what he could get.

Red opened the closet door, pushing aside coats and what looked like a raccoon costume, nope, he didn’t want to know about that. This one needed careful positioning or there was too much interference for him to hear clearly. Right on the edge of the door molding was best, and Red carefully exchanged the little device with nimble fingertips.

The sound of a key in front door made him freeze, but having Sans barrel into his back was worse. His weight pushed them both down into the shoes even as Sans scrambled for the door handle. It was barely closed when the front door opened, and he could hear Edge and Stretch’s voices, muffled through the wood.

The closet was pretty full; shoes and coats and fucking raccoon suits, and the addition of two skeletons, even short ones, made it pretty cramped. There was no good way to move and get where Sans wasn’t touching him enough to teleport out, and certainly not a way to do it quietly. Not that it mattered; they weren’t going anywhere fast. Teleporting had a very distinctive sound and since only three of them could do it, only one of whom had a legit reason to be in this house, it wasn’t like anyone would need to use a lifeline to figure out who was escaping the closet. Red was pretty good at silent shortcuts but Sans never had a reason to develop the knack. And it wasn’t like Red was going to ditch out and leave Sans here on his own, anyway.

Although the temptation was there. This is why he worked alone, fucking amateurs.

“why the fuck did you do that?” Red whispered furiously. “i could’ve come up with a reason to be in the house! the closet, not so much!”

“i panicked!” Sans retorted, “and would edge really have believed whatever bullshit excuse you gave him?”

“course not, i taught him better than that! but he would have pretended to and that’s all that matters!” As carefully as he could, Red turned over, both of them sitting atop an uncomfortable pile of shoes and boots. He considered their options.

They could just walk out. Hand over some bullshit excuse even though they were way over the line of pretending to suspend disbelief. Problem was, the odds that Edge would think it was hilarious was pretty even steven with him being pissed off beyond the point of rational thought, and Red wasn’t really feeling the whole ‘verge of fratricide’ today. Plus, it might get Edge and Stretch thinking too hard about what they were really doing here, and Red wanted to avoid that, if he could.

There was nothing for it, they’d have to wait it out.

Probably wouldn’t take too long. They were home early, sure, but his bro had a routine. He’d go upstairs and get changed out of his fancy work duds and then it was off to the kitchen where he’d start whipping up something tasty for dinner. Hell, if he and Sans timed it right, they could stop back and invite themselves over for some grub. His bro always made extra and he’d invited them over for breakfast, not that it meant anything, fuck, no, and—

Oh.

Well, shit.

From the sound that just filtered through the door, it seemed like Edge and Stretch were doing some improv off the written script.

“oh! ooh, oooh, babe, yeah..that's good...ah...”

Their eye lights were the only thing illuminating the closet. It was enough for Red to see Sans stuffing his sleeve into his mouth, stifling laughter.

“knock it off!” Red hissed. The chance of Edge being pissed off if he caught them just got much better odds, and there was that added kicker of Stretch being pissed, too. Stretch was a soft touch, saw too much of himself in Red where it didn’t really exist and sometimes that meant he’d let things slip that he probably shouldn’t. It was a good flaw for him to have and Red didn’t want to risk it by pissing him off too much.

Sans only shook his head, his entire body shaking as he tried to hold in laughter. Luckily, the faint rattle of his bones was muffled into his hoodie.

Not that anyone would hear that over Stretch. Damn but he was a loud fucker, in the literalist of terms.

Red slouched down, tugging up his jacket over his auditory canals, but it didn’t help much. All he could do was listen while those two committed horrible, raunchy crimes against nature and probably various furniture. Keerist, the next time Red came over, he was bringing a folding chair; he didn’t care how good Edge was at deep cleaning.

He forced his mind to skip over any puns on how Stretch was getting deep cleaned, his brother was giving him the whole white glove test…stop it!

Across from him, Sans shifted uncomfortably, not that there was any comfort to be found with his bro’s shoe hoarding tendencies. Red glanced over to find him trying unsuccessfully to hide the soft blue glow at his crotch.

What the fuck…? Red gestured furiously at him and Sans shrugged, unrepentant, and whispered, “hey, neither of them are my brother.” His grin widened wickedly. “got stamina, doesn’t he. shame it ain’t a family trait.”

His grin didn’t lessen one bit as Red drew a threatening finger across his throat; honestly, this was what happened when you let someone sleep over after the fucking, all your threats turned from blades to jello and jiggled their way to fail.

Besides, if he dusted Sans now, it would wreck all these nice shoes. Probably wasn’t enough polish in the world to fix ‘em. Yeah.

It was an effort not to jerk away when bony fingers found his ankles, drifting up underneath his shorts to his femurs. Uh, no, several mentally loud, possibly shrill, levels of no. Red tried to squirm away as much as he could, but there wasn’t far to go and the shoes were piled around them precariously, like a booty trap.

To his horror, his magic was settling in his own pelvis. His mind knew it was his brother out there trying to set a world record on Stretch’s ass, but to his boner, he was getting felt up by someone he was fucking on the regular while someone else in the near vicinity was having a very loud, very vigorously good time.

“don’t,” Red gritted out. immediately Sans stopped, pulling his hands away. Red tried to ignore the ongoing argument between his various body parts over whether or not that was a good thing.

Sans waggled his fingers in the air, “no prob. i’m all about consent, babe. but you could use a better safe word.”

Before he could give his assessment of that, which mostly consisted of a lot of middle fingers, the noise outside rose into a energetic climax.

Whatever bullshit they were whispering soppily to each other didn’t last long. They stirred way before Red was expecting it, he was figuring on a decent amount of yabbing about being their sun, moon, sky, and French fry bullshit. Stretch must not be one for the afterglow and Red hated his mind for accepting that as a possibly useful data point.

“I should go make dinner.” Red would have given an HP point to never have heard that slurred, sated quality in his bro’s voice.

“how about a shower before you touch anything we might eat?”

“That’s unusually fussy of you, considering where you like to put your mouth.” Ugh, the emergence of his brother’s sense of humor was always deeply disturbing.

“think so? if you come upstairs, i’d be willing to put it to the test.”

Red waited, listening to footsteps and the creak of stairs until a door closed upstairs. Then he grabbed hold of Sans’s arm and dragged them both the fuck out of dodge.

Out on the sidewalk, far out of view of the house, Sans stretched in the sunlight, groaning as his spine popped. “that’s better. good to be out of the closet with you.”

It was said so lightly, it shouldn’t have sent alarm bells tripping up Red’s nonexistent nerves. “you—“

“dunno about you, but i could use a nap. something to do with your bed, anyway. meet me there, if you’re interested.” Sans smirked and vanished.

Before Red could follow him, and it was a toss up whether it was for a beating or to fuck him stupider, his phone chimed. Distracted, he looked down and his soul tightened when he saw it was from ‘Idiot #2’.

His fingers didn’t shake at all as he unlocked his phone.

enjoy the show? :D

fuck you. Red sent back, not bothering with anything better. His phone vibrated again.

nah, already had my daily dose in my preferred flavor. i like it sweet and you’re pretty salty. wanted to say i’ll give until tomorrow to come get any of your shitty spy gadgets out of my house. if i find even one, i’m telling him.

Red sighed internally. deal.

That meant Sans had until tomorrow to build him something new. Eh, well. Sans appreciated a challenge.

But first, it turned out that Red had at least one fuck to give and Sans was waiting for it.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #kustard #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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ihaveseentruebravery · 5 years

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So yeah, Liam was on talks, so of course I wrote stuff...

Somebody may have already talked about this, but there's something I really appreciate about Liam. I really, genuinely, appreciate that he's not afraid to explore grief. Like, I don't even mean how well he acted in Campaign One with regards to that. But that as a player, he decided to create Caleb. This got long yo, rest is under the cut.

I often wonder what led Liam to creating this scared little guy, but I will always appreciate it. Because Caleb is an incredibly thorough study not just of 'sadness', but of grief. I believe I've said this before, but Caleb and Nott first stood out to me because both of their players actively handicapped themselves within the game mechanics. Yasha drew my attention as well, but it was harder to pin her down wrt analysis. Caleb's and Nott's handicaps though? Those were clearly, directly related to PTSD.

To break it down further, grief is a funny thing, that people react differently to. Some people are stuck in a state of depression/bargaining about it (Caleb). Some accept it (to a degree), but do so in an unhealthy way (Nott). And some get stuck in a cycle of anger and depression (Yasha). And others still, have many other ways of coping, not coping, sliding through the cycle slowly, or cycling through it rapidly (exhaustively). Honestly, without Nott and Yasha as foils, I don't know that I'd understand Caleb as well as I do.

Really, I only relate to Caleb's grieving as much as I do, rather than to Nott and Yasha's, because of who he lost, and how he's now lost himself within that grief. What Ikithon did to him, that he was forced to be complicit in, was also a far shorter period of 'torment' than the following fifteen years. What Ikithon did (that so many of us trauma survivors relate to) was strip his agency as he tormented him. And the resulting 'break' landed him in an asylum.

When you spend a decade not being called your own name, and spend that time not even being aware of that, that changes you fundamentally. When you spend years at a time in neglect and isolation, after escaping said asylum, because of a so-called penance fueled by grief and fear and rage, that changes you fundamentally. Ikithon had already warped Caleb, but how much of this story would change if Caleb hadn't landed in the asylum? What if something else had happened? What if Caleb's break resulted in a different consequence?

Liam deliberately set up Caleb's story to force Caleb to not directly confront his trauma and the perpetrators. He deliberately made Caleb both child-like in his grief (the fogginess of the in-between time and the memory problems make it seem so recent still, compounded by the isolation&neglect), and a mature adult in his shame and his fury (the power he so desperately seeks and his ruthless tactics to anything in his way). That dichotomy is unbelievably relatable, to an extent that I'm not even sure I could adequately express why.

Caleb certainly isn't alone in being someone I relate to, tbh. Nott is a creature of purpose, and is so driven to get back to her family and to be who she used to be. Yasha has her devoted remembrance and her rage. Those are incredibly relatable, and it's why I couldn't pick a favorite between these three as characters.

On an unrelated, but tangentially relevant note: I'm so fucking glad Nott and Caleb met in that jail cell. Caleb abso-fuckin-lutely needed a wake-up call. He was going through the motions, stuck in in a self-fulfilling guilt-ridden cycle. And damn, Caleb wouldn't be nearly as understandable without Nott as a foil. Characters that deep into their own grief, cannot make healthy connections with others. So thank TPTB that Nott is able, despite her own past problems with this, to have an easier time of developing relationships with others. Because scared little Caleb needed the fuckin help.

Like, this may seem obvious, but I believe it needs saying. Trying to reach out and make a friend, make a genuine honest connection, when you've experienced such a deep fucking loss as what Caleb did, is unbelievably exhausting, depending on how you yourself can handle your grief. You're so goddamned scared all the time that whatever you do won't matter, because how long until you lose this one too?

How long til this family member, or this relative, or this new 'friend' is lost to you too? You're always, almost subconsciously, shutting out that connection. It's as a defense mechanism, but of course you like this person. This person is wonderful, they make you laugh, but... but....but how long do you have left with them?

Liam as a player?? Fuckin shit dude. He'll just barrel on through all these big scary feelings and stuff, just absolutely unafraid to face it and probs make his friends cry on the way. Like good job dude, damn, but also...How does he put all of that into one single expression? A single turn of phrase? Liam when he said that thing tonight about, '...now he (Caleb) thinks he has... fffFFriiieeeENDS?'

Like damn dude, fucking relatable. Being so lost in your own grief like that....yep. But still, that he knows, even though the situation needs so much recontextualization now, that he'll do he whatever he can to help Nott, and knows absolutely that he loves Nott? Yeah. I get it.

You don't gotta be hit with a brick, even lost in your own grief as you are, to realize that people all around you will still make you love them. That's how people are, even when you're lost as deep as that. They love you, so of course you love them too.

#grief yo #it's so weird and boy can I say this was weirdly cathartic to write about #caleb widogast #critical role #talks machina #metapigeon

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mcrtiniblues-blog · 5 years

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hey guys ! i’m kat and atm, i’m either splurging at sephora or on my way home so i can’t be on for this first wave of activity. i kinda whipped everything up between endless exhaustion from my daily routine and people constantly looming over my shoulder at work and at home, so don’t mind my theme and everything, i’m still trying to figure out what i like and that means taking a while to set up my pages sklsd plus i wasn’t expecting us to open so soon, so i’m unprepared af, BUT ! we’ll make do with this intro for now.. didn’t have enough time to finish amla’s before i got off work. now, all of that being said, this is a monster of a post, so get settled as i introduce sovana’s resident skating brat halle, a bitch who overworks and doesn’t know how to chill long-term !! stats page is HERE for your reading pleasure, plots and what not will be up later on !

( jeon somin, cisfemale, she/her. ) hey that’s hyunmi “halle” chae over by the fountain! i wonder if they took a coin out. i heard the twenty-four year old’s been in sovana for three months and they’re known to be pretty darwinian but also charismatic. a song that describes their life would be challenge by lolo zouaï and blades gliding along the surface of ice, classical music on a rainy day, & silk bedsheets always reminds me of them.

honestly she is.. fucked sgjfsgdkl

this is mostly a carbon copy of an intro i’ve made for her in the past, so while some random points seem a Little dated or repetitive, they’re valid enough to stay here sfdlgkdg

i’ve had inspo for her ever since last year’s olympics and really wanted to use her Somewhere and Successfully, so if some things here seem a little.. idk, farfetched for your taste, we’ll pin it on that sfdgkdfj

this is her as popular vines

so chae hyunmi aka halle, ulsan born, raised in seoul and relocated to toronto, canada with her parents, little sis and partner — aka sho — to train bc..

she’s a figure skater, good enough to win ( .. junior ig ) titles when she was in her early teens, so it was only inevitable for her to leave for toronto to train with the Best eventually

she’s competed in international competitions, as part of a pair, and made her olympic debut in sochi by the skin of her teeth; hers and sho’s highest placement was third place ( not at sochi pls sgjkld they prob ranked in the top ten at best ), so she’s got a medal or two to her name

ultimately it was after sochi that she saw her coach and ( ex ) partner intervene with her.. unhealthy practicing habits

she’s a perfectionist through and through, so of course she’d spend hours on the ice at just seventeen/eighteen years old, even younger tbh, to get a routine right. but she pushed herself harder and harder, where small missteps would lead her to fall hard and recover for days on end, even spraining her ankle just before competition season was to begin

so when her coach insisted she take a break, her parents following suit, it was with good reason — one that she didn’t fucking see fsdkgkl

even so, them pushing her to prioritize education for a bit, to get ahead of the skaters who would prob only be able to do so upon retirement in a good few years’ time, and hanging up her skates until she saw it as.. less than something she needed to abuse herself to feel comfortable with, for as long as they would do so led to her resolve shattering and her applying for universities both in canada and sk ( the sly brat reasoned that it’d be nice to be reconnect with her roots.. for the sake of having something going for her beyond just competing in pyeongchang ! )

which is how, miraculously, she got accepted into uni in seoul ( still figuring out which, rip ). her grades were good, she had a super brief volunteering stint and she’s a rising star ( well, was.. the bitch wouldn’t be competing again anytime soon to keep herself where she was within the skating circuit ) in her favoured sport, she deemed it inevitable sfkljfdgk

the transition wasn’t too hard ofc; she got comfortable with the campus and seoul and was back on the ice in no time, joining the uni’s skating team under her parents’ noses and making the most of it as comeback/olympics prep

she saw herself as poised to be added to the roster once again, now a singles prospect after a major falling out with her longtime partner for one too many dumb bitch moves, and was desperate for it since it’s in pyeongchang, however the stars didn’t align when she just missed obtaining qualification on sk’s roster on a technicality, and nothing could’ve compared to the agony that was missing her chance in something she invested sm practice, time and compliance with the people around her to pull through and get to pyeongchang

she’s still distraught over it, it’s been a few months since that happened and she gets emo real quick, misty-eyed if you bring it up ( she uh, has issues with moving on from things if you can’t tell )

suffice to say she resents her coach for his minor contribution in fucking her and himself over, dropped him out of anger ( a move she.. does feels bad abt on a personal level but professionally ?? pft ) and linked up with one back in toronto who she began seeing when she was “ prepared ” to give it a shot again.. so right after graduating

wrapped up a season dedicated solely to training ( meaning she’s currently on hiatus from the sport, but she knows a good few people think her career is Over now — and it pisses her the Fuck off ) before her sister convinced her to have a proper break that wasn’t Just to appease someone else

.. even though it was to appease her sister. but she let it slide bc the kid’s the Only person who can do no wrong in halle’s eyes and she might as well keep her from stressing

literally the only instance she’ll ever, in her lifetime, Cave to someone SDFLKGSDFKL

so she picked sovana as her retreat at complete random and has been here since april

it’s a little weird to think of her Not being in her usual spots so this is as much of a ride for y’all as it is for me, the bitch doesn’t have many hobbies after all SDFKLSDF

studied history despite wanting to be a skating coach when she retires as a competitor, bc she rly loves history ok ??

personality and other shit

she is.. a mess rly

inflexible, independent, charismatic, etc

most of her actual personality is further down oops dsfgjklfg

kinda detached ?? like she doesn’t want too many distractions and she deems relationships as the fucking Worst for it.. she’s had some pals from skating with potential go downhill when they got too deep with certain partners or just with too many side hobbies, social obligations, so she’s trying to be level-headed while not destroying her social life ?

idk it’s hard to explain, she’s an enigma even to me in that area

only dated once. when she was like nine. with some other chick’s skating partner that she quickly ditched.

not.. super sexually active either ( rip ?? )

but she’s been Involved with people so fdskng

on the ice, or just in whatever she’s applying herself to, she’s domineering and blunt, v strict on herself though she’s slacked off a bit over the years.. so imagine how self-disciplined — in the worst of ways — she was when she was younger

with a rigorous work ethic like hers, her being a leader among those at the local skating club back in toronto implies that she’d be strict too with what little power she has.. but she’s kinda chill overall ?? tho you still have to get your twizzles right before the end of the day, don’t care that the hockey players will be out in two ! let’s go !

uh.. her attitude carries over with a Lot of things. she especially has no time for people who are Committed to their sport/career but show poor performances bc of laziness, distractions, etc. so brace your kids for hurricane hyunmi ??

call her ice queen. try it. try it. GKFDJKGDSF she hates that nickname 95% of the time, usually bc she assumes people are basing it off of her initial/professional demeanour first and her passion second

she really just has a hard shell where it matters, aka her career and stuff, but is a semi-precious gem overall

or, for a better way to describe it though it sounds like i’m just repeating myself: she gives off Proper head bitch vibes ( subtract the Need to feel powerful in being a piece of shit to anyone who walks past you while being surprisingly thin-skinned ) but she’s really just a blunt and serious brat with a super dry and at times menacing sense of humour

so don’t think i’m taking the piss out of anything on purpose or that she acts out of malice.. i had a better way of phrasing this but completely blanked, sorry SDFKLJDKL

kind of dramatic and a meme ngl, curses quite a bit, whips out korean or her conversational-level french far too often — especially if she’s shit-talking bc you made an ugly choice but is trying to be a Supportive Friend

english name came from halle berry bc hyunmi thought she was really pretty on all of the red carpets her mom would have on growing up sfgdkjflk

unwinds with the usual netflix and wine, but also dance — helps with her choreo for routines too so

oH also probably still hurts herself by overworking, especially after That Lost Opportunity, i hate

she’s pan but….. girls disappoint her far less than guys so she has a preference djfgskgdkf

all of that being said, it clearly plays into how she’s perceived by others, so —

#ooc tag tba.#sov.intro #this is so long and almost unnecessary.. sorry y'all #DJKSDFL

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deliverydefresas · 6 years

Text

masters of the scene

I know it’s been like, a century, but better late than never amirite? Happy birthday to this fic and thank you to everyone who’s still reading it. I love you all.

I re-read it twice but honestly this probs has as many mistakes as if I hadn’t lmao. In case you don’t remember / have missed a part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 + 6.5 | 7 | 8 | (this one will be considered 9.3 since there’s two more parts to be posted)

♥

AU: Matteo Balsano is a famous singer who has been crushing on this one girl he saw every day behind a window many years ago, back when he first started recording his debut album and inspired his first big hit, Princesa. Luna Valente, professional Olympic skater turned actress is at a local (and very popular) talk show to promote her breakout movie. This is where it all starts.

♥

When someone mentioned the words bachelorette party, Luna pictured women enjoying themselves, lots of bottles of alcohol, games that are fun after five drinks, and maybe a stripper or two. She, definitely, didn’t imagine herself in a corner, scared of facing the bride’s tantrum. No joke here, she’d seen Yam’s cousin crossing herself before she informed her they’d gotten the tablecloths they’d ordered for the wedding, a silent prayer to keep the already stressed bride calm. But, of course, the universe hated them and decided whoever oversaw the cloths, to pick the ‘wrong’ shade of red.

“I specifically asked for cadmium red, not this cheap ass lipstick red! Are you so fucking blind you can’t distinguish from two different colors? How can you be this incompetent?” She saw most of the people flinch at Yam’s tone; Luna felt for them, she too wanted to be anywhere else. “They are different colors! If you can’t tell one from the other why would you even offer them in your catalogue?!” As Yam continued to yell, Luna saw her friend’s mom apologizing for her daughter’s outburst, offering everyone another round of drinks, before dragging the blonde to another room to continue her call. Jim sighed tiredly – poor girl had had to endure her best friend’s moods far longer than anyone in the room- slipping her margarita to Nina’s hand – not before emptying it all in a gulp-, as she hurriedly left to follow the screams.

“If I ever become this level of bridezilla, please slap my face with the tablecloth.” Luna told Nina, sipping on her mojito, silently laughing when they heard Yam cursing someone once more.

“Only if you return the favor.” Her best friend proposed, offering her glass of water to her, her duty as DD kept her alcohol free for the evening.

She happily clicked her glass with hers, sealing the deal. After both had sipped on them, Luna spoke again, “time really flew by. I still remember the day Yam came to lunch waving her hand on our faces because Ramiro had proposed, and now…” she sighed.

“She’s only days away from spending the rest of her life with the guy she loves...”

Luna snorted. “Or having a heart attack because another insignificant detail got messed up, whichever happens first.” Nina laughs with her for a moment, sipping the last of her drink before changing the subject.

“How’s the roller coming along?” her friend asks, as if she hadn’t spent most of the last three months inside the building with her.

“Slow. Tiring. Hopefully great, though.”

“Still going over paperwork?”

She sighed, “yeah. Who knew buying a building and reconstructing it to open a skating rink was so laborious?”

Nina offered her a reassuring smile, extending her hand to squeeze hers in support. “You’re doing more than great, L. Soon your dreams will be a reality and all this work will be worth it.”

“I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, though.” Her best friend laughed.

“Don’t pretend you’re not the one who insisted on reviewing everything and every little step, Luna. You could have easily left it to your trusty lawyer and architect, but you didn’t and here you are now.”

Luna huffed out, “excuse me for wanting to make sure everything is perfect.” She knew Nina was only kidding, so she tried to make it sound like a joke; even if she only half-meant it. You couldn’t half-ass a business, you just couldn’t; not unless your goal with it was to end up broke and deep in debt.

“And it will be. It might take time, but it will.” Nina said reassuringly, not an ounce of hesitance in her voice.

“Thank you, N.” She sipped her mojito once more, “now, will you tell me what’s bothering you? You’ve been playing with your necklace since we got here, and I doubt it’s because of Yam getting on your nerves.” Then again, Luna at least had alcohol to sooth the yelling and bear the ridiculous games, Nina’s soberness surely was playing against her.

“I’ve got something to tell you and I’m not sure how you’re going to react, and I don’t want you to get mad at me, so…”

“So you’re choosing not to tell me?” she frowned. She hated when people did that; after all, if they gave her a head up beforehand, she’d save herself the unpleasures of being surprised.

“No, no. I just- well I just wasn’t sure how to tell you. It’s kinda… it’s to do with a certain someone.” Oh.

Oh.

While Luna didn’t choose to avoid having Matteo as a topic of conversation, she purposefully didn’t bring him up, so, neither did Nina. Until now, apparently.

The fiasco at his apartment had been left unspoken after her plans with the Roller started to pan out. Partly because she didn’t have enough free time to do dwell on it, and partly because she still cringed whenever she reminded herself of what had happened with him. She’d still kept up with him through Delfi’s offhanded comments on their ‘lessons’, and – embarrassingly enough- through a couple magazines there and there. Not that she believed anything they’d written about him; she highly doubted he’d brought three lions to exhibit at a party in his apartment.

Point was, even if she didn’t particularly have the lady balls to talk to him again and call a truce, she still cared enough to make sure he was somewhat okay.

“Matteo isn’t Voldemort, Nina, you can say his name out loud and nothing will happen.” Nina gave her a sheepish smile.

“I know, but since we haven’t talked about him in a while I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a problem.”

“Well, it isn’t, so you can say whatever you have to.” Luna urged her, sipping her drink once more, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“So, you know how I said I’d asked Eric to be my date for the wedding?”

“Yeah, but then you said his grandma broke her hip, or something, and he cancelled on you.” She frowned, “did you ask Matteo to be your date?” Luna didn’t try to hide her surprise. Had her best friend reached out to him? Became close friends and didn’t tell her?

“No! No, no, no! I would never do that to you! I asked Gastón. You know, his best friend? We’ve talked from time to time and since I didn’t want to stay glued to Yam’s cousin more than necessary, I asked him if he could come. He said yes.”

Now she was confused. “Okay… is Matteo coming? Or why were you worried I’d react badly?”

“You’re not mad?” Nina asked timidly, as if she’d explode on her for this.

“No! Why would I? Matteo and I’s disaster is that – ours-, you can be friends with his best friend and invite him wherever, N. To get mad at you for having friends would be ridiculous; just like you thinking I’d get mad at you for this.”

“Better safe than sorry, no?” Luna shook her head, letting out a small chuckle. Nina spoke again, “and the answer is no.” At her confused expression, she clarified, “he’s not coming. At least, I don’t think he is, neither Yam or Ramiro are in his circle, and you know Yam would tell you if she had invited him.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Their conversation was cut as Yam, her mom, and Jim entered the room once again. The bride significantly happier, and her companions a lot more relieved.

The moment Yam’s words left her lips, she was glad she was on her third mojito.

“Who’s up for a round of ‘Pin The Macho on the Man’?!”

♥

Welcome to a whole new JaJazmin! I’m your host, the beautiful, incredible, gorgeous, amazing… Jazmín Carbajal-Gorjesi! Thank you, yes, thanks, I know all of you love me but let’s save some love for our guest tonight, alright? She’s beauty, she’s grace, she could break your face in roller skating! Please welcome Olympic Medalist, and the star of your favorite sports movie, SHATTERED WINGS, the one, the only, the best of the bestest: SOL BENSON!-

- Thank you! What a lovely welcome, Jazmín, thank you for having me again.

You’re very wel-… I mean, it’s an honor to have you back. But tell me, please, how’s retired life treating you?

It’s been pretty calm, really, which I think is what retirement is all about (*chuckles*), and like I’ve said, I never meant to leave the skating rink permanently, I’m just not competing anymore. I’ve achieved everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m happy with how everything ended.

The days following your statement must have been crazy, weren’t they?

Yeah, a little. I never talked about my plans, or early retirement, so it’s partly my fault for dropping this on my fans so suddenly, whom I apologize to for hurting them with the news. They’ve been there for me in every step of the way, and I hope they continue with me for what’s to come.

We’ll talk about that in a minute, but I have to ask - and I hope you don’t mind-, your name wasn’t the only one that resounded when the news hit.

Mmhmm.

Correct me if I’m wrong but many people… concluded your decision wasn’t at all about you reaching your dreams and being done with competing. They assumed your rumored boyfriend – Matteo Balsano, for those who don’t know-, had asked you to quit for one reason or another.

Crazy, isn’t it? I worked, sweated and bled on my dreams for over a decade… you’d think that hard work would get more recognition without a rumored fling butting in.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be. I want to make it clear though, that Matteo and I were never anything but friends. He’s a great guy, one of the best I’ve ever met, but we were nothing except platonic.

There you have it folks: Soltteo were a no. What a shame for every of us who were rooting for you two…

(*chuckles*) Sorry to disappoint. But hey, at least a lucky girl can still get his heart.

Think you can hook them up with him?

Uh…

(*laughs*) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Moving on, though, what’s next for Sol Benson? Got any plans yet?

Well-

♥

“What are you watching?” His best friend flopped down on the bed next to him, grimacing as soon as he saw what was on the screen of his TV. “Again? This is what, the millionth time?”

“The re-run was on.” Matteo shrugged it off, dismissing its importance.

“And you decided to watch it just because? You gotta stop this masochism, dude. It’s been three months, if you miss her so much-”

“It’s not like that, and you know it.” He didn’t miss her exactly. After all, he didn’t have the chance to get to know her enough to do so. It was more of him occasionally wishing he had the guts to pick up his phone and apologize again until things weren’t… weird between them. Luna running away from him had left him with a permanent needle pinching his heart, and he was sure it wouldn’t leave until they resolved their… issue.

“Do you know that, though? ‘Cause honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had her words memorized by now.” Matteo turned the TV off, just as Luna initiated a round of quick questions with Jazmín, shaking his head at his best friend, whom had taken the liberty to spread out on his bed.

“Sorry to disappoint.” He huffed.

Gastón let out a sigh, as if he was tired of his denial. Which, in all fairness, so was he. “Are you in one of your weird moods? These short answers are kind of annoying, I want to talk to my best friend and feel like he’s actually here.”

“I’m sorry, my mind is just all over the place.” He offered him a smile, hoping Gastón could hear the sincerity in his voice. Matteo wasn’t giving him an attitude on purpose, he knew he was worried about him. “And before you even ask, no, this isn’t about Luna. Delfi called me; my label wants to hear the songs I have so far. I guess I’m just nervous.”

“Why? I’ve heard some of them there and there, it’s sounding great, dude. I would even dare to say it’s your best so far. If anything, they should be nervous, they won’t know what hit them.”

“Thanks, bro. But you know it’s different this time. A lot more… personal.” Out of all his albums, this one had to be the rawest. He wasn’t holding anything out this time, he wasn’t telling half-truths or hypothetic scenarios; whatever he was feeling, he wrote. He poured every single emotion into them. And it left him exposed, his heart naked to anyone who were listening.

He wasn’t playing it safe, dismissing the formula that had gave him a name in the industry. Now, his true self was on the spotlight, and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit it scared him.

“I’m telling you, they’d be crazy to reject them. I’ll pay for them to get checked by a doctor if they as little as insinuate it’s not the best thing they’ve heard in all their careers.” He had to laugh at this.

“Now I know it’s your bias talking.”

“Hey, I might be your best friend, but I’m not deaf, and I happen to have an excellent ear and taste for music.”

“Says the ABBA fan.”

Gastón gasped dramatically, sitting up quickly as he took his right hand to his heart. “How dare you! They’re amazing, and happen to have great, iconic songs! Here I am, bolstering you, like the great friend I am, and you dare to insult me and the greatest Swedish band of all time. Shame. On. You.”

Matteo threw him an amused look in return. “Well, consider me thankful. Anyways, did you want to tell me something?”

“What do you mean?”

Matteo arched his brows, as if it weren’t obvious. “You mean to tell me you just came into my room to ask me what I was watching on TV?”

“Uh, yeah?” When he gave him an ‘I don’t believe you for a second’ look, Gastón shrugged sheepishly. “Okay so I might have some news.” Matteo motioned for him to continue, “you know Ramiro Ponce and Yam Sánchez, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well they’re getting married this weekend, and Nina invited me as her plus one. Her supposed date cancelled on her and since the groomsman that’s supposed to walk the isle with her freaks her out, she asked me to cover for him, so he doesn’t attach to her after the ceremony.”

“Dating her now, are you?” He couldn’t help but to tease him, even if he knew they were merely platonic. “So, you’re going out this weekend, cool. I can manage to be alone one evening, you know.”

“It’s not like that and you know it.” Gastón threw his words back at him. “I’m telling you this in case you want me to rely a message on a certain someone, or something.”

Why was he friends with him again? “Sure. Can you tell the happy couple I say, ‘congratulations on getting contractually bound to each other’ for me?”

Gastón looked surprised at first, but as soon as he finished hearing his answer, he put on a blank face. “Sure. Well, if you want me to rely anything else to anyone else, you know where to find me.”

“Mhmm.” After that, Gastón left his room, huffing what sounded like ‘stubborn idiot’, which he was sure were his words.

Mindlessly, Matteo turned his TV on again, switching from cable to scroll on Netflix as soon as he noticed JaJazmín had ended. He was about to put play on a random movie when his phone rang. The name displayed on the screen took him off guard.

“Hello?”

“What do you think of being my date to a wedding this Saturday?”

#soy luna #lutteo #luna valente #matteo balsano #sl ff #lutteo ff #my sl ff #my lutteo ff #mots #mine #soltteo #for the lols

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