Request: #80 w/ Jefferson or Lance, whichever you’re more comfortable with; thank you in advance and I’m excited to see all these drabbles!!
80. “I’ve never kissed anyone.” + “This is a problem.”
A/N: I thought it’d make a little more sense with Lance, I hope you don’t mind.
You and all your friends sat in a circle at the college party you were at. 7 minutes in heaven was the game. A little middle school for your taste but that’s what you get when you surround yourself with drunk college kids.
To your left was Ben and to your right was Hope. Right across from you was Lance, the boy you’ve been crushing over since 6th grade. But you knew how he was, with a chick one day and the next, another.
Hope lost her virginity to him and she told you he was a major asshole afterwards. She constantly would tell you how awful he was and to stay away from him cause he’d only hurt you and you’d believe her until Lance flashed you that goddamn smile.
“Spin the fuckin’ bottle already!” Hope shouts, raising her cup in the air.
Lance reaches over and spins the bottle. You all watch it spin and spin and spin until it slows down followed by a halt. All eyes look over at who it landed on. You.
It goes silent for bit until Brandon, a guy from one of your classes shouts; “Y/N and Lance have to go in the closet!”
You blush and stand up, only to have Hope tug at your jeans. “Are you sure?”
You smile at your friend. “I can handle myself.”
She nods, knowing you were right and you look over at Lance who held his hand out to you. Hesitantly, you grab it and he guides you over to the closet.
“Remember guys, you only have seven minutes.” Brandon shouts over to the two of you. “Seven minutes to bust a nut, Lance!”
Lance only chuckles at the idiot, letting you into the closet first before following. He closed the door and the two of you stand there, the little light swinging above you.
“Um..” he starts. “We don’t have to do anything. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
You snort. “You’re Lance Tucker. It’s your job to make girls uncomfortable.”
He smiled at you. “Yeah but I.. I just.. don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Are you feeling okay, Lance? You’re being very… considerate.” your eyebrows furrow and he runs his fingers through his hair.
“I um… Oh god.” he breathed. “I kind of sort of maybe like you.”
You hold your breath. Did he just - did he say he liked you? Lance Tucker said he liked you. Your crush said he likes you.
“I get if you don’t feel the same way.” he pulls you from your thoughts. “Who would want to be with someone like me? I’m sure you’ve heard awful things about me… especially from Hope.”
“I.. yeah, I have.” you nod. “But I guess there’s something wrong with me because even though knowing all the horrid things you’ve done to girls, I still like you.”
He looks up from the ground, locking eyes with you. “You like me?”
“Yeah.” you chuckle. “Since sixth grade.”
“Oh my god.” he murmured, cheeks turning pink. “Oh my god.”
“I’ve liked you since fifth.”
You let out a laugh while he blushed behind his hands.
“That’s crazy.” you comment.
“Wow.” he chuckled. “So does this mean I can kiss you? I’ve always wanted to kiss you.”
It was your turn to blush. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”
Lance blinks. “This is a problem.”
You shrug. “I guess no one wants to kiss me so.”
“I can fix this.” he says. “Will you let me..?” he trails off.
Anakin and Padme reunited when they were somewhat younger, and as a result Anakin was not actually obsessed with her by this point.
Anakin was too young for Padme to actually notice
The Clone Wars started up somewhat earlier than in canon.
Anakin is actually somewhat likable
So yeah, this is definitely an AU.
Obi-Wan sighed, something which he’d found himself doing with alarming frequency in recent years. Most often, it was because of Anakin. In this particular moment, it was because of the absence of Anakin, a fact which was, of course, in complete contradiction to the natural order of the universe.
“I’m sure he’ll be along shortly,” Padme said, glaring almost threateningly at the stream of incoming traffic. She bobbed impatiently on the balls of her feet. Crowds of commuters bustled around them.
“He’d better be,” Obi-Wan muttered, eyes scanning the sky. Somewhere up there, there was a eighteen-year-old lunatic with a lightsaber and a hijacked starcruiser. And unless that lunatic wanted to run laps around the Temple until his legs fell off, he had better be starting his landing sequence an hour ago.
“They’re coming this way,” Padme warned. Obi-Wan pulled his cloak over his uniform and lightsaber.
“How many?” The Jedi asked, backed turned. The Senator tried to look inconspicuous as she counted the droids.
-I was allowed to add Spanish to proficient languages after this session.
So for the first game of DnD that I am playing ever, I decided to make my character a sort of strange ‘homebrew’ sub-race of humans. Anyways, as a six and a half-foot tall insane clown monster, Vuuvie (his name) can be intimidating with the great-axe he carries around with him everywhere.
So at one point, the ‘leader’ of the rag-tag group he has landed himself in has assigned him to questioning certain civilians around the entrance of the town for information about an assassination of a local political figure that had taken place about half a day ago. So, he agrees and leaves to see what the heck is going on. Upon approaching the front gate, the following situation ensues:
DM (OOC): “Vuuvie approaches the front gates of the town where there are two armored orc-guardsmen.”
Town Guard #1: *Spots Vuuvie* "HALT! Who goes there?“
Vuuvie: ”BUENOS TARDES, MI AMIGOS! COMO ESTA!?“
DM (Doesn’t know a lick of Spanish): “Uh…”
Vuuvie: “Me llamo, Vuuvie Jaster! -y tu?”
Guard #2: “Um… What kind'a tongues are you speakin’ in?”
Vuuvie: “Psh, oh yeah. I almost forgot that mexico isn’t a thing in this realm. Sucks that you guys don’t have Mexican food then.”
DM (OOC): “The guards unsheathe their swords to you."
Vuuvie: "Que pasa?”
//The remaining players are nearly dying with laughter.//
Guard #1: “State your business, Clown. Lest you meet your fate at the edge of my blade.”
Vuuvie: “Oh yeah! I’m here to question you guys about… about something…”
//The DM is giving me a questionable gaze, by now.//
Vuuvie: “Oh well, I guess that means that I can skip the questions and go straight to 'interrogation by brute force’.”
Me (OOC): “Vuuvie grabs the second guard by the face and slams them into a wall repeatedly until they start giving answers.”
DM (OOC): “-But you haven’t even asked anything yet-” *They see me holding my dice and sigh. “-Roll for strength.”
Me: * rolls 17 + 5 Modifier.
DM (OOC): “You smash the guard into the entrance gate three times. On the third time his head shatters like a melon.”
Me (OOC): “Vuuvie drops the corpse on the ground, and approaches the only remaining guard.”
Guard #1: “W-what do you want from me?”
Vuuvie: “I want answers. Where you eat- Where you sleep- What your shoe-size is! I NEED ANSWERS, DAMN IT!”
//The DM looks mildly annoyed.//
DM (OOC): “… The guard flees the scene; leaving a trail of urine where they once stood.”
Crowley had to blink a few times upon seeing the widely grinning nine year old covered in mud standing on the veranda of Halt’s cabin. “Will?” He said, and the boy grinned wider and tried to run a hand through his mud thickened brown hair. His cow brown eyes were glittering with mischief and it was obvious he’d been playing in the bog-like fields with the other village children. It was also obvious he’d either lost or not even bothered to wear shoes.
“What the blazes have you been doing, Will?” Crowley asked, and Will just grinned wider and from inside the cabin, Crowley heard Halt sigh.
“Go down to the stream and clean off,” Halt said as he looked over Will’s mess. “And hurry up about it before Crowley eats your dinner as well.” Will huffed and scuttled off to the stream as Crowley turned to his oldest friend and raised an eyebrow at the younger Ranger.
Honestly Halt would find being called the younger Ranger indignant, but there was three years between them, and Crowley enjoyed reminding his grumpy friend about those few years.
“Why would I eat his dinner? You’re the one who always goes back for seconds,” he said, and Halt gave him a pointed look and then stepped aside to allow Crowley entry to the small cabin.
As Crowley stepped inside he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist and smirked as he twisted around and grinned at Halt, who blushed slightly and the shared a quick kiss, which quickly grew into something far more fiery.
The sound of Will shouting a hello at Cropper drew them apart and Halt cleared his throat awkwardly as the boy walked into the cabin, dripping wet, but clean.
“Go get changed,” Halt told his son. “And take those apples out of your pockets before you forget about them and they rot in the wash.” Will huffed and pulled three small apples out of his pockets and dumped them on the coffee table as he made his way to his bedroom.
“So I see you’ve gotten better at this parenting business,” Crowley teased.
Halt had been a natural from the day he brought little Will home from the war, and the boy was an honorary Ranger in most of the Corps’ eyes and almost everyone looked forward to seeing Will at the Gathering every year.
“You should come down here more than once a month and have a go of it yourself,” Halt replied with a little more bite than Crowley guessed he meant, judging from the look that crossed his face after he said the words. “Crowley I’m sorry I didn’t…”
“We always knew this was going to be hard,” Crowley interrupted. “But we make it work. We always have.” Halt’s eyes narrowed at the spot over Crowley’s left shoulder and Crowley heard a cheeky giggle that made a fond smile tug at his lips.
“We’ll make a Ranger of you yet,” He said as he turned around quickly and snatched Will up, toss him over his shoulder as the boy laughed. “If only we could get you to stop sneaking apples to the horses!”
It wasn’t ideal, Crowley thought later as he watched Halt and Will bicker about whether nine was old enough to get his own horse, but in his opinion, it was perfect.
Summary: Demons dont understand Christmas but everything works out anyway (though Furuichi disagrees)
Pairing: very mild Ogafuru
Rating: PG-13 (or PG)
Thanks thebibi on beelzebub, your knowledge saved me a few hours of researching
He’d assumed this Christmas would be fun; with Furuichi’s parents and sister off on a trip, he and Furuichi would have the house to themselves, to play new videogames all night long and let Hilda roam with the babies without the constant worry of one of them doing something Furuichi’s family shouldn’t see (Baby Beelz’s sister’s tantrums meant earthquakes, and Beel was on that stage where liked to chew on anything – specially steel since that didn’t break too easily).
Now that he was within sight of Furuichi’s gate, Oga had a feeling things wouldn’t be as fun as he expected.
Years have passed, years of constant training to learn how to use weapons and her beast form from her grandfather. And years of constant training to learn how to manipulate the shadows from her grandmother had finally lead to this moment.
The werewolf was finally ready to claim her rightful title and make her dead mother proud. Silver had finally become a master angel killer just like her mother.
Silver smiled as people celebrated the return of a master, eating and drinking to their hearts content. After a while they all drunkenly walked back home, except for Silver, she stayed back and used her powers to clean the town up from all the decorations and rubbish that littered the floor. Humming a lullaby to herself as she did so until she quickly caught an unfamiliar smell.
She growled and quickly turned to face (your muse) “Halt! Who goes there?!” she shouted as she readied her weapon.
Context: I’m the DM for a group and one of the PC’s died very early on. His soul ended up getting trapped in his lucky coin and given away to a NPC named Lord Poldron in the land of the dead. They other PC’s decided to try to steal their friends soul back.
Lord Poldron: Halt! Who goes there?
Paladin *currently invisible*: Wooooo! I’m a ghost!
Lord Poldron: Good for you, we all are ghosts. This is the land of the dead after all.
Baulder’s Gate D&D session cleric here with another story involving the misadventures of the dragonkin party leader and the drowned cleric… and everyone else. He’s the party leader because he’s the main character. And he’s purple. He used to be red, but he did a thing and picked a secondary color of blue. So he became purple. His name is Spyro the Dragon.
But on to the fun stuff.
We’re trying to find a bandit camp because they’re causing problems and stealing all the iron during an iron crisis.
Spyro drinks a polymorph potion to look human and we put on bandit disguises. I, having magical charisma and ridiculous levels of diplomacy at like 17, take my place as the one who talks our way out of shit.
Bandit(DM): halt who goes there!
Cleric: *rolls above a 3* hi there!
Bandit: *waves shyly* hi
Cleric: We’re a group interested in joining you! We come bearing gifts! *opens up the Bag of Holding and takes out a random assortment if arms and armor ranging from daggers to greatswords* please let us go in.
Bandit: well… you’re cute, but I dunno.
Spyro: don’t be stupid, we’re part of your group! Look at our emblems! I’m going in.
Cleric: please ignore him.
Bandit: *smiles nastily* sure. Lead the way then.
Spyro : no you lead the way!
Bandit: I’m the boss. I say what goes!
Spyro: that’s not what your mom said last night!
Bandit swings at him for nonlethal damage and he of course draws his sword and whacks the bandit for lethal damage.
Bandit: that’s against the rules! Get them!
Cleric ooc: Damnit. Uh… uh… *rolls diplomacy and of course passes*
Cleric: I’m cute! please ignore the idiot with the sword! We picked him up because he’s strong but he’s dumber than a block of rocks. Well keep him under control I swear!
Bandit: *to Spyro*…. you’re lucky she’s cute.