Sooooo this is for the prompt that @jigglejaggle sent in to @taylor-tut, with claustrophobic Lance stuck in a shrinking room. Fair warning… Hella angst ahead. I included some cuddly catharsis afterwards, though, no worries, I’m not evil ;)
Critters asked: How many cumulative hours has Vox Machina fought with doors on stream?
It’s impossible to say in in-game time because some of it wasn’t measured in neat 6-second rounds. We can, however, measure real life time! For this (and for fun), we decided to include some barriers and portals that functioned as doors as well. We didn’t include doors that didn’t pose a threat to Vox Machina. Updated to Episode 85.
Time Spent Dealing With Doors and Barriers: 4:11:13
Made by Winchester Repeating Firearms c.1887, fitted with a WM Malcolm scope - serial number 9183. .32-40 Ballard single shot falling block rifle, segmented cleaning rod in the buttstock, N°3 octagon barrel. Probably the sexiest scope in existence.
Pairing: Jughead x Reader Description: reader is a shy person that doubts herself a lot, but a certain boy inspires her
Warnings: none, except this literally sucks so bad and I hate it but it was anon requested o I hope you like it anon I’m sorry this sucks Disclaimer: I usually write my reader inserts as girls, but if anybody wants a nonbinary or male reader inserts, I’m 100% down for it! Just let me know :-)
It was almost cliche the way I met Jughead.
We took creative writing together, as well as a few other classes. Our teacher had given us our first project that we would have to present to the class, either a short story or a poem. Usually, my teachers would give me a free pass on the “presenting” part, because of my phobia of public speaking, but this year I wasn’t getting the special treatment. My creative writing teacher told me she would cut my grade straight in half if I didn’t present.
I panicked the entire week, hoping that somehow I could just get out of it. I thought about faking sick, or telling the teacher I had family troubles, but I knew they wouldn’t buy it. I tried piecing together bits of poems I had, but nothing worked. I was too stressed about going up in the front of the class to be inspired. The day before the presentation, I had nothing. Nada. Zip. I couldn’t get myself to piece anything together.
I plopped down in to my usual seat in the back of the class, frustrated and near in tears at this point. I heard a bag drop beside me and turned my head to see Riverdale’s official loner and the boy that infatuated me, Jughead Jones. He nodded his head silently and gave me a small half smile before pulling out his laptop and cracking his knuckles. He began typing furiously, as if he was on a mission to empty his head and film the blank document on his screen. I knew that much was true, since Jughead was always lost in thought and always writing.
An idea popped in to my head and I began to write, my pencil flying across my paper and the brick wall of writers block inside my head broke, a river of inspiration now flowing. It was funny how quickly it snapped, yet, that’s how it always happens.
“Whatcha writing?” I jumped 6 feet in the air from my seat, my hands flying as they covered my paper.I whipped my head around to see Jughead had his elbows resting on my desk and an innocent smile plastered from cheek to cheek, while his head rested in the palms of his hands.
“N-nothing, just working on the assignment for tomorrow.“I answered truthfully.I wasn’t too surprised he had spoken to me. It wasn’t like I had never said a word to Jughead. I was friends with Betty and Kevin, and Jughead and I were lab partners.
"Can I read it?” Jughead flashed me a grin, as if he was silently begging me.
“Y-you’ll hear it tomorrow.” I giggled, ducking my head over the paper, my hair falling around it like a cloak and keeping it hidden from the eyes of the slightly snoopy boy.
Tomorrow came, and all of a sudden, It was my turn to go up to present to the class. The teacher called my name and I stood up from my seat in the back, walking nervously to the front and clutching the paper with my poem in my hands. I made it to the front and looked up to 25 pairs of eyes staring back at me.
“T-this is a poem I wrote, called "infatuation” .“ I spoke nervously. I cleared my throat and looked down at my paper, not before seeing Betty giving me a reassuring thumbs up.
"Your mind is an etch a sketch, erasing and creating thoughts in your mind a thousand times over.I wonder what occupies the mess that is that etch a sketch.”
I began reading.I read off each paragraph, feeling the eyes of my peers boring in to my skull.
“And that is why you are my infatuation, you capture my attention, you are the center of my affection, maybe someday, you’ll look back in my direction.” I finished.
The class clapped loudly and I blushed, handing the teacher a copy of my work and making my way back to my seat quickly.
"That, was incredible.” I turned to my side to see Jughead smiling at me.
“I-it was alright.I threw it together in a day.” I responded modestly.
“Are you doing anything after school?” Jughead leaned over, resting his elbows on my desk.
“Nothing actually, might go home and find something to watch on TV.”
“Well, what do you say to ditching those plans and joining me at Pop’s?” Jughead grinned, waiting for my answer.
“I think that would be nice.” I smiled.
And months from now, when that same boy would be lying on my bed and come across that poem I had presented that day, and he would look up and ask me “Who was that poem about?” I would just smile and lean over to kiss him before answering “You, silly.”
Prompt: First words of your soulmate are tattoo’d on you + Philip Hamilton (Modern AU)
Author’s Note: Dialogue is not really my strong suit, but soulmate AU’s are usually all dialogue so…I also messed with the prompt a bit to fit my idea better. I really wanted the first sentence he said to be a surprise. Hopefully it is.
You had yet to meet your soulmate, the only unmarked one left of your siblings.Soulmate. Jesus, just the thought that someone out there in the world was destined to be with you.
Some met their soulmate on their first day of school, some died before they met theirs, meaning they would have to try again in the next life.
Some cheated the system and surgically added watches. Those were for the rich and impatient to know when it would happen. Your family couldn’t afford it, and you were fine leaving it to the elements. Although, you couldn’t help but feel anxious as the New Year approached.
Another year without a soulmate.
Living in New York meant there was thousands of possibilities just walking to a coffee shop. Maybe the man you bumped into would strike up a conversation and you would be marked. Maybe the woman you sat next to on the subway was feeling particularly chatty and you would be marked. Maybe you would never be marked.
You tried to go out whenever possible. The more you went out the higher your chances, right?
Every morning you would return to a hole-in-the-wall cafe a few blocks from your work. Order the same drink. Watch the same customers walk in and out. Unmarked.
One morning, you decided to change your order. Some spiced frappuccino with an elegant name. Again, you watched the same customers. Until two boys around your age walked in, chatting loudly. They ordered their drinks and took the table a few from yours.
You didn’t usually eavesdrop, but the pieces you were able to pick up on were rather interesting.
They continued their animated conversation as you sipped your drink. The curly haired one finally sighed loudly, prompting his friend to exclaim, “Fine! Ask anyone in here and they’ll agree with me!”
The curly haired boy seemed to like the challenge and began scanning the room for someone to interrogate. Finally, he landed on you and immediately brightened. He leaned out of his chair towards you, lifting his eyebrow.
“If someone had mad Yo-Yo skills, would you be turned on?”
It certainly wasn’t the question you expected. You decided it was probably best not to question him.
“Hard pass.” Suddenly, a burning began under the skin of your left wrist. You hissed in pain, rolling up the sleeve to investigate.
‘If someone had mad Yo-Yo skills, would you be turned on?’ Was marked on your skin.
The curly haired boy was also staring at his wrist in confusion before looking up at you with the most innocent smirk.
“Philip.” He introduced himself, nothing more or less. He was straight to the point, oddly charming. You gave your name in return.
“I can’t believe I have to live with this stupid ass line on my skin for the rest of my life.” You giggled, showing him your new marking.
“At least yours doesn’t look like your soulmate turned you down.” He pointed to the ‘Hard pass.’ he would live with until he died, “Especially because I thought you would agree with me. Yo-Yo’s are hot.”
Fandom: Marvel Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Genres: a lot of angst, mention of tortures (nothing descriptive), fluff Words: 3.330 Summary: Based on “Castle on the hill” by Ed Sheeran; a story of reader’s and Bucky’s meeting, getting together and then parting. There’s a happy ending, thou.