#just call me colonel mustard

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xii

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Tara's out. Reader gets an unwanted and unexpected visitor.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder.

word count: 3.8k

a/n: :0 who could it be??? thanks as always for all the love, let me know your theories (and what you want to see next)!!

Since that unfortunate incident in the living room, you and Tara have been hiding out in her bedroom. 

Well you’re hiding out, unable to get past the mortification.  The look on Sam’s face as she’d seen the two of you. The hushed lecture she’d given you both the morning after. Tara, as usual, doesn’t think she’s done anything wrong, but she goes where you go, and tonight, that’s curled up under her covers watching an episode of Ancient Aliens. 

You’re perfectly content, wrapped up in Tara’s arms, until you hear a long rapt on the door. It’s Sam, presumably. She’s taken to knocking profusely before entering any room.

Tara’s bedroom especially. 

“What?” Tara calls out. Sam’s voice sounds through the wood of the door, a little muffled. 

“Is everybody decent?” 

“No.” Tara says, deadpanned, “We’re having wild, passionate sex, don’t come in.”

Sam pauses. 

You whack her, lightly. 

“You’re fine Sam, we’re fully clothed.” You call out. 

Tara shoots you a look but you ignore her, watch as Sam hesitantly steps into the room. 

“Richie got Clue from the house. Do you guys want to join us for a game?”

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

You and Tara both say at the same time. It earns her another smack. 

“We’ll be down in five,” You tell her, voice syrupy sweet. You’ve been doing that lately, being extra nice to Sam. Trying to make up for your girlfriend’s utter lack of respect. 

Sam nods, closes the door behind her.

“What did you do that for?” Tara groans, “Now we’ll be stuck with them all night.” 

“You need to start being nicer to your sister.” You tell her, stand and tug at her hand, “She’s making a real effort. And we still have some groveling to do.”

“You can grovel all you like, unless you can erase memories I think that one will stick with her for a while.” She grins like she’s proud of herself. 

You smack her again. 

“And whose fault is that?”

“Ow.” She rubs her forearm, eyes wide with outrage, “Stop hitting me.” 

“Stop being an idiot and I’ll stop hitting you.” You tell her, hold out your hand. She takes it with great reluctance, scoots herself off the bed, “Now what are we going to go downstairs and do?” 

“Be nice to Sam,” Tara grumbles.  

“And Richie.” You remind her. She goes quiet. 

“Tara. He’s fine.” 

“He’s creepy,” Tara complains, “I just get a bad vibe from him. And Sam can do so much better-” 

“Drop it.” You chide. You reach for her hand, interlock your fingers, “You’re going to be nice to Sam and you’re going to be nice to Richie. All night. Please?” 

She really looks like she wants to argue. Instead, she pulls you into her, presses a long kiss to your cheek. 

“Fine. But only for you.” 

-

“It’s Colonel Mustard. In the study. With the knife.” 

Richie’s eyes glint. Tara huffs beside you as Sam reaches for the small yellow packet in the middle of the table. 

“Sam, don’t. It’s been two rounds, he can’t possibly have gotten it already.” 

Sam slaps down the cards. It is Colonel Mustard. In the study. With the knife. Tara blinks. 

“You cheated.” She says, immediately. 

Richie laughs, “No. I’m just good at this kind of thing.” 

“He is.” Sam assures, pulling everyone’s cards to the center of the table, “It’s annoying.” 

You rub the back of Tara’s neck. You can tell she’s getting upset. She doesn’t like to lose and this is the third game in a row Richie’s won. You’re starting to think this was a bad idea. 

“He’s looking at the cards,” Tara insists, snatching the packet off Sam, “Here, let me deal.” 

But Richie wins again, even after Tara makes a big show of dealing the hand quite literally under the table. Tara’s shoulders tighten. The first sign of her mood. She goes quiet as she plays, all focus and determination, snapping replies when she’s asked questions. Pushing your hand on her thigh away. 

By the end of the fourth game, you’re the one snatching the cards from the table. 

“Maybe we should play something else,” You suggest quickly, your hand around Tara’s waist maybe the only thing stopping her from launching across the table to slap the shit-eating grin off Richie’s face, “Uno?” 

You can’t stand Uno, you suck at it. But Tara’s good at it and she almost never loses. A quick win is exactly what she needs. You hold back your cards on purpose, determined to give her the game. Direct all your bad cards at Richie and Sam. 

But despite your best efforts, Richie wins that too. 

By the time game night is over, Richie’s standing a little taller and you’re left to pick up the pieces of Tara’s foul mood. You lead her back upstairs, direct an unsaid apology towards Sam with your eyes. 

Tara’s so annoyed she barely notices when you strip naked in front of her and slip into bed. 

“God, he sucks,” She vents, so irate you can almost see the steam coming out of her ears, “He cheats at Clue and if that isn’t sad enough he cheats at Uno too. What is he trying to prove?” 

She’s a terrible loser, always has been. If someone except her wins, she’s certain they’ve cheated. Somehow you even find that endearing about her. You reach for her and rub her back, soothingly. 

“Babe, I don’t think he was cheating,” You say, nestling yourself into her side, “He’s just good at games. He’s a nerd. He probably spends all his free time practicing them. I mean, all he ever does is play that stupid shooting game.”

Tara chews at her bottom lip. 

“He probably spends all night practising because his girlfriend never wants to fuck him.” Tara says, her eyes sparking a little. Next to fucking you, ragging on Richie was her absolue favorite thing to do. 

You indulge her, try to prompt her out of her grump. 

“Exactly. And you don’t have that problem.” You say, pressing your lips against her ear, “Because your girlfriend always wants to fuck you.” 

That does it. You feel her soften immediately, her hands around your waist tightening. She’s suddenly realized you’re naked against her. She runs her hands down your bare thighs, her mood gone with a single sentence. 

“Hmm,” She says, her voice dropping a few octaves, “That’s true. I’d beat him every time if I didn’t have such a sexy, naked girl in my bed 24/7.” 

“Definitely.” You assure, “So who’s the real winner?” 

‘Me.” Tara grins as she flips you onto her back, “Definitely me.”

-

In the end, the real winner is you. 

You get three orgasms as a reward for your peace-keeping efforts. By the time you’re done, a sweaty mess of entwined limbs, you’re satisfied but dehydrated. Tara mews as you get up, trying to tug you back into her. 

“I’m just going to get some water,” You assure, reaching for her discarded t-shirt and pulling it over your head, “Do you want some?”

She nods, a little sleepily, rests her head back down onto the pillow as you leave. 

The house is dark, you pad quietly through it, not wanting to wake Sam and Richie. 

But when you reach the kitchen, Richie’s already there in only his boxers, a glass of milk in hand. He raises it to you in acknowledgement.  

“Hey,” He says, “You thirsty too, huh?” 

“Just getting some water.” You say as you reach into the shelf and grab yourself a glass. 

“Tara still pissed she lost?” He asks, leaning against the countertop, “That girl sure knows how to throw a tantrum.” 

He grins a little, like he’s sure you’ll agree with him. Bitches, am I right? His smile screams. As if he’s forgotten he’s talking to her girlfriend. 

“She’s just competitive,” You say, a little defensively. You fill yourself a glass, grab another for Tara. 

“Hmm.” Richie says, “I’m sure she’s fine now. After you got done with her.” 

His eyes flicker down to your bare legs. You cross your arms a little self conscious. 

“You guys have a lot of sex, you know.” Richie continues. He takes a long sip of his drink, “We can hear you through the walls. It’s driving Sam crazy.” 

Your neck prickles uncomfortably. The thought of Sam hearing you have sex was mortifying but knowing Richie could hear too was somehow even worse. 

“Sorry.” You say. You pull her shirt down your legs a little, subconsciously trying to cover yourself, “We’ll be quieter.” 

“It’s fine.” He says, “I don’t mind.”

He blinks as if he’s just realized what he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a weird way. I just meant- you know what, never mind. I’m going to stop talking.” 

He hovers, a little awkward. You blink back at him, unsure what to say. 

“Enjoy your water. And your- sex, I guess.” 

And then he leaves you standing in the kitchen alone, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. 

When you make your way back up to Tara’s she’s still laying in bed, her eyes drooping. 

She accepts her water, and doesn't seem to notice your mood. 

You’re glad, you don’t want to tell Tara about your conversation with Richie in the kitchen. 

You feel weird, uncomfortable. You tell yourself to let it go. After all, he hadn’t even anything that offensive, outside of being slightly creepy. There really wasn’t anything to tell Tara. And she’d go ballistic. Probably go in all guns blazing and drag Richie out of bed by his hair. 

The last thing you need is her to be angry again. 

You curl back into bed against her, still wearing her shirt. 

“Take this off.” She murmurs into your chest, trying to tug her shirt off you. You resist. 

“You know we can’t sleep naked.” You say. Sleeping naked with Tara almost always ended up the same way; her waking you up at some ungodly hour to fuck you into the mattress because she’d gotten so turned on by the press of your skin against hers in the middle of the night, “We have to be at school for eight.” 

She pouts. You press a kiss to her lips. 

“Tomorrow.” You promise, “When it’s Friday and I don’t have to be up early.” 

“I’m holding you to that.” She says, quite seriously and lets you pull her pajamas back on. 

-

It’s Saturday night. 

Usually, you’d be out with Tara’s friends but the mood has dampened a little since Wes’ disappearance. The friendship circle dwindling a little, only five of you left, with Wes and Amber’s untimely departures. 

Instead, you’re starting dinner prep while Tara and Sam do the grocery shop. Tara had insisted on going with her, complaining Sam’s grocery options were far too organic for her taste. Richie’s out somewhere with his college buddies, so for once you have the house to yourself. 

Maybe when Tara got back the two of you could watch a film, since Richie had temporarily vacated the living room. Or maybe you’d rope her and Sam into another game of Clue, fix Tara’s bruised ego by letting her win. 

For now, you put on some music, put your hair up. 

Chop potatoes while grooving out to Fleetwood Mac, not a care in the world. 

In fact you’re so into the music, you don’t even hear the press of the kitchen door opening. The heavy click of boots against the tile. The gentle scrapping of a knife against the wood of the counter. 

And when you turn around, lyrics to Dreams still on your lips, your heart almost jumps out of your throat.  

It’s Tara, wearing the Ghostface outfit. Black robes and all, mask down, silver dagger in hand. 

Your reaction is instantaneous; the knife you’re holding clatters to the counter. Your entire body fizzles: a mesh of confusion and rage and horror at the sight in front of you. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You hiss, “Where are you going?” 

Tara tilts her head. Her fingers press tighter around the knife in her hand. She doesn’t bother to answer. It makes you angrier. Your stomach writhes sick with fury. She’d told you she wasn’t going to do this anymore. She’d swore black and blue. Hurt, anger, betrayal well up, set deep within your bones. 

“You promised me you’d stop with this. Take that off right now.” 

But she doesn’t move. Not an inch. You reach out for her, grab at the mask, determined to tear it off and tell her how disappointed you are to her face. But she jerks away from you out of your reach. You stare, irritation swelling. 

“Where’s Sam? Tara, if she comes home and sees you like this-” 

You don’t see it coming. One minute she’s standing completely still. The next, her arms are jerking out wide, grabbing at you hard. She yanks you to her, hands are gripping your forearms so hard you think it might bruise. 

“What the fuck? Get off me!” You cry out as you struggle against her. 

Something’s wrong. Something other than Tara standing in front of you in her Ghostface costume. Her grip is hard, unforgiving. Her hands are too big, her weight against you feels strange. Foreign. 

Your struggle against her is futile. She’s much stronger than you. She drags you backwards across the kitchen and slams you down onto the floor like you’re a ragdoll. Then she’s climbing on top of you, too heavy, hands wrapping tight around your throat. 

She chokes you hard. It’s not an unfamiliar position. But this is different. She’s choking you like she wants to hurt you. You writhe in a panic as her fingers squeeze down tight around your throat. You try to cry out but she’s pressing down too hard on your vocal chords. Your vision blurs. Your head light. 

In a final, desperate move, you manage to kick up between her legs at just the right angle. Her grip loosens, only slightly but it’s enough. 

You scramble out from under her. Immediately grab at your fallen potato chopping knife.  

When you whirl around, knife pointed out at her, she’s pulling herself back to her feet, Ghostface mask tilted menacingly. 

“Who the fuck are you?” You hiss, hands shaking. 

This isn’t your girlfriend, you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. This person is taller, bigger, and they want to hurt you. As they stand, you see the glint of the knife in their hands. 

“Someone who thinks you should pay.” They’re using the Ghostface voice changer. You haven’t heard it since that night at Chase’s house. The night you’d discovered who Tara truly was. It sends shivers down your spine. Your lip quivers. 

“Someone who thinks you should both pay.” Ghostface edges a little closer, knife tilted out towards you. Your eyes flicker down to it. It gleams under the cool lights of the kitchen, “And when I’m done carving you up, I’m going to drag your pretty girlfriend in here too. Just long enough so she can see what I’ve done to you. Then I’ll mutilate her over your corpse.” 

“You stay the fuck away from her.” You growl, edge forward and launch a strike. Ghostface ducks past it like it’s nothing. You topple back, grip the counter so hard it might just crack under the pressure. Ghostface is close now, close enough that if you just reached forward and grabbed the mask…

Ghostface ducks as you try it. Launches a hard strike at you. You spin out of the way just in time, their dagger hitting the side of the counter. It clatters to the ground and you take the moment to run. 

You’re sprinting, far out of the kitchen and down the hall, heartbeat in your ears. You rush for the front door. If you can just make it out of the house, run out onto the street, you’ll be able to find help. A neighbor, a car, anything. 

You hear footsteps, loud and heavy behind you. 

Panic floods through your veins, tears streaking hot down your face. Your hands are shaking as you pry open the lock. Their close now, close enough to grab you. Just as a pair of gloved hands reach out to pull you back, the click of the lock sounds. 

You don’t wait a moment longer. Pry open the door as fast as you can and sprint forward. 

Immediately, you hit a solid body.

You hit the ground hard, a mess of tears, tangled limbs and loose grocery items. You gasp as a rogue glass of pasta sauce shatters around you, a carton of milk seeping cool under your fingertips. 

It’s Sam, looking confused and a little dazed. The weight of you has sent her toppling back onto the porch. You wildly flurry to untangle yourself from her, scramble up desperately looking behind you for the foreboding figure that had just chased you down the hallway. 

“My groceries.” Sam gasps, from the ground, “YN, what the hell?” 

But you’re not looking at her. You stare back into the house. The hallway is empty, eerie, lights flickering. Ghostface is long gone. 

You hear the thud of the car door closing, and then a voice that makes you want to crumble to the ground. 

“Sam?” Tara calls out from behind the car. No doubt she’s heard the panic, tries to round the corner to see what’s going on. She’s carrying two brown bags worth of groceries, a particularly long celery stick blocking her vision. She brushes it out of the way, eyes lock to Sam on the ground and you, standing limp-handed, tears and mascara streaked down your face. 

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

You run towards her, all but throw yourself into her arms. She lets go of the groceries instantly. They fall to the ground with a crash as she wraps her arms tight around you. You sniffle into her neck, breathing wild, heartbeat erratic. You try to speak but it comes out in a quiet, muffled blubber, tears spilling hot from your eyes and into her neck. She’s pulling you away only slightly so she can cup your cheeks, eyes panicked as she sees the look in your eyes. 

“Babe, what happened?” 

“He’s inside,” Your voice shakes. It’s thick, “Ghostface. He’s here.” 

She blinks back at you. You’re so close to her you can almost hear the thud of her heartbeat as it speeds up. 

“What?” She says, “That’s impossible.” 

“He’s here.” You say, desperately, “Call the police, now.” 

“Who’s here?” Sam asks. She’s long abandoned her groceries, looks over at you with concern. 

“Ghostface.” You say, “He attacked me in the house. Just now. He’s probably still inside.” 

Sam’s face drops. Tara’s hands tighten around your waist. 

“Wait here.” Tara murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. 

“No.” You and Sam both shout at once. You grip her hard. Keep her locked into you. 

“You’re not going in there. No way.” You say. The shake in your voice gone, replaced with sheer determination. Over your dead body was she going into that house alone. 

“Baby, let go. You know I can handle myself.” 

Sam reaches for her phone. 

“Get back in the car. Lock the doors.” She orders, taking charge, “YN, don’t let go of her. I’m calling the police.” 

“He’ll be gone by then,” Tara says, aggravated but you don’t loosen your grip. Cling to her like a baby koala would its mother. 

“Let’s get in the car, please Tara.” You all but beg. She looks down at you, conflict in her eyes. 

“Please.” 

She relents. You feel the tension in her body loosen only a little, before she’s leading you back into Sam’s car, and helping you into the back seat. You all but crawl into her lap, watch as Sam paces back and forth across the front lawn, talking animatedly to the 911 operator. 

“Are you okay?” Tara’s asking, her hands over your body. She’s wildly checking for marks, cuts. “Did he hurt you?” 

You shake your head. 

Tara presses a long kiss to the side of your head. 

“Did you see his face?” Tara asks. She looks so anxious you want to weep. 

You shake your head once more. 

“Did you get close? Did you hear his voice?” 

“Voice-changer,” You all but mumble. 

She bites at her bottom lip. She looks back into the house, eyes it like she’s about to make a break for it. You curl your fingers tight around her waist, keeping her in place. Press your cheek to her chest. Her heart is beating faster than yours, drumming loudly against your ear.

Her fingers thread through your hair, heartbeat still racing. 

“Shoes?” 

“Boots. They were black.” 

“What did he smell like?”

You retract from her just long enough to stare up at her. She’s looking back, completely serious. 

“I didn’t smell him, Tara, I was busy trying not to get stabbed-”

Your lip trembles. A fresh wave of tears spill hot from your eyes. 

“Alright. Alright, I’m sorry, baby. Of course you didn’t smell him.” She takes you back into her arms, hushes your cries with a kiss, “There’s got to be something. He grabbed you, right? What did he feel like? Was he skinny? Beefy?”

“He was…” You trail off trying to remember. You look down at your forearms, remember the way he’d gripped you, “He was strong. Solid.” 

“So he was a he, then?” Tara tries to confirm. Her eyes flit between yours, searchingly. 

“I don’t… maybe. Not necessarily.” You say, suddenly hyper-aware of how unhelpful you’re being. You pause a moment, remembering something. 

“He knew though.”

Tara looks at you, long and hard. 

“He knew what?” 

“What we-” You take a breath, hot flashes of memories painting thick behind your eyes. The knife in your hand. Wes’ body on the floor. 

“About you-know-what.” 

Sam’s close, you don’t want to say it aloud. Tara’s expression is even, unreadable. Her heartbeat hammers even louder. 

“That’s not possible.” 

“He said that we need to pay.” You insist, “There’s nothing else he could have meant.” 

Tara goes quiet, her fingers in your hair tightened. Then she’s pulling you back into her chest, pressing another long kiss against the top of your head. 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” She says, voice agonized, “Why did I leave you alone?”

“Nevermind about that,” You say. You close your eyes, breathe her in. It calms you, if only for a moment, “What are we going to do?” 

She blinks back at you. She’s afraid, uncertain, you can see it in her eyes. She doesn’t have an answer for you, she doesn’t know what to do. 

She’s used to being the hunter, not the hunted. 

And the thought of Tara being Ghostface’s prey is what scares you the most.

Next part

#scream #scream vi #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #ghostface #all hers #mine #fanfiction #ghostface!tara

[alexturner2005]

Alex and Matt answer rapid fire questions with Jo Whiley, 2022

Jo: What’s your favorite season, Al?

Alex: *long silence*

Matt: There’s only four.

Alex. Autumn.

Jo: Nice. Any particular reason?

Alex:...No...uh...

Jo: Ok no, leave it there, it’s fine, I don’t wanna know. What’s your favorite body part, Matt?

Matt: Left leg.

Jo: Alex?

Alex: Eyebrow.

Jo: Left or right?

Matt: Raised.

Jo: He’s good, isn’t he? I can see why you’re in the band. What’s your favorite dessert, Alex?

Alex:..Ehhh...*long silence*

Matt: It’s a lie now to say there’s only four.

Jo: C’mon, this is dessert, this is food! Surely something must leap into your head.

Alex: Just don’t wanna get it wrong. In front of everybody.

Jo: But it’s only dessert we’re talking about, we’re not talking about the album.

Alex: This is serious business.

Matt: And if someone ever sees you eating a different one, it’s fine.

Alex: It’s alright.

Jo: It’s ok.

Alex: *deep sigh* I...uh...

Jo: I can give you some options: lemon meringue pie, tiramisu, chocolate brownies, apple crumble...

Alex: It’s not lemon for me, we know that. And I think Matthew would probably tell you sticky toffee pudding.

Matt: That’s mine.

Alex: I know that this is not the game we’re playing here, is it. We do our own. That is a game you do play sometimes, innit? How well do you uh...

Matt: Oh like “Mr. and Mrs.”

Alex: Is that what it’s called?

Matt: I think so, innit.

Jo: It is, yeah. What’s your favorite board game?

Matt: Oh, what’s it called, there’s one I recently played, called ‘Othello’ or something like that. With the black and white little things. There’s some strategy.

Jo: Tell us about that.

Matt: Well the slogan’s great. “It takes a minute to learn and a lifetime to master.” And anything like that, I enjoy.

Jo: Do you have a favorite board game, Alex?

Alex: Hm. *sigh*

Jo: God, I hadn’t realized this was gonna be so hard. I thought we were starting easy!

Alex: Definitely, yeah, uh, Cluedo enthusiast.

Jo: Cluedo, oh ok. Do you have a favorite character to be? Everybody has a favorite character to be.

Alex: If I knew it was gonna breed another question, I would’ve chose a different game.

Matt: What’s his name, Colonel...

Alex: He’s the only one you can be, innit?

Jo: Colonel Mustard.

Alex: Yeah, that’s the answer to that. Wait, I thought we’d already done the dessert.

x

#this was way more to type out than i thought it was gonna be lmao #this part made me laugh out loud tho #arctic monkeys #alex turner #matt helders #am7 interviews #m

[mlobsters]

supernatural s10e6 ask jeeves (w. eric charmelo, nicole snyder)

i looked her up because she reminds me of tissea from the witcher (spoiler alert looking her up apparently, i've been [sadly] bored to tears with s3 so i haven't finished it) but she was in coyote ugly! so i did recognize her. ish

s10e6 / coyote ugly - izabella miko as cammie / the witcher - myanna buring as tissaia

we got an spn / xfiles / the magicians / the killing actor! 🎉

and he was in the tooms episode of the x-files! (along with two others). and he was the faith healer in spn s1e12 faith, didn't recognize him at all with the sunglasses

the x-files s1e3 squeeze - kevin mcnulty as agent fuller / the magicians s2e1 km as knight of crowns / the killing s1e13 km as gas station manager

saw a gifset of this recently and spent plenty of time staring and rolling my eyes then. also, toxic masculinity/machismo is very much an issue in the culture but hello cuban coffee colada which comes with the ittiest bittiest cups (think basically creamer cups) for sharing. *pining for miami*

making my 😒 face at dean/writers right now

DEAN Bobby had secrets, man. Like loving on Tori Spelling. If he only knew Dean cheated on her.

cue my brain trying to dig up an old memory of 90210 character names

but no, apparently, her actual spouse Dean McDermott (m. 2006). dean knows this? i can't predict what pop culture stuff dean might know or not. (like interweb?) and like last episode where he didn't know who calliope was, yet he's supposedly read the odyssey?

from s4e14 sex and violence (my recap)

DEAN Like Greek myth siren, The Odyssey? ...Hey, I read!

just say no to dumbing down dean winchester.

also i don't think it's necessarily just sam's haircut that's so odd in this season, but it looks like it's getting blown out too. weird. it's normalish for his look in the front but very ~done~ in the back at times

just say yes to shutting up and watching, nic

s10e6 as heddy / new girl - gillian vigman as kim (schmidt's boss)

but there's more people i recognize 🥲 this is going to take forever. feels very... Clue-like

she calls them adorable, dean engages flirt-mode, sam makes a face. however! for what it's worth! i appreciate that as he's gotten older the rando side character women he flirts with are also regularly around his age or older

BEVERLY Oh but you’re welcome to spend the night. All the rooms sleep two.

HEDDY [slaps Dean’s butt] Or three.

i... okay. mad at the insinuation that sam and dean are sleeping together (?? do they know they're brothers or assuming married?? this show.), but happy about the butt slap/threesome offer?

DEAN You stay here. Keep an eye on Mrs. Peacock and Colonel Mustard. I’ll sniff around.

okay then. Clue it is

DASH Well Sam, I’ll let you in on a little family secret. We don’t really like each other. Then again, what family does? SAM Mine does. Uh, for the most part. It’s just my brother and me, so…

this is how the show has a chokehold on me. just when my commitment to watching every episode wavers, they're like oh but would you like to hear about how much sam and dean looove each other 🥺🥹

maybe toss sam a text before you go into the secret room

cute

is this all just an elaborate ad? lol

look at sam, sending a text to dean about the dude being dead. good job guys

HEDDY Did you see how long his fingers his fingers were? SAM There…there’s just. HEDDY First of all, did you see this? Look how long…

and then at this point in the screenshot she's saying 9 inches?? whaaat is happening

did someone get a ruler out. and measured his..... hand

this episode is a lot

HEDDY I knew those boys were trailer trash the moment they rolled up in that American-made. BEVERLY Not to mention homosexuals. HEDDY Ugh. Homosexual murderers. Like Leopold and Loeb.

guess we're just gonna ignore they're brothers now.

‘Scream’ Screenwriter Kevin Williamson Confirms Billy and Stu’s Queer-Coded Relationship Was Based on Real Gay Killers - huh, well thanks for leading me to that, wikipedia article on leopold and loeb!

DASH Then where have you been hiding all these years? OLIVIA The attic. AMBER Like in the movie.

Reference to Flowers in the Attic, which is a story about children born of an incestuous relationship, who are hidden away in the attic of a wealthy relative

i was trying to think of what it could be referring to that wasn't flowers in the attic because hello incest reference, but okay

SAM I mean….all those extra shots after the shifter was already dead. What was that? DEAN I don’t know. Target practice? SAM Come on, man. I’m serious. You sure it wasn’t….I don’t know, demon residue or something to do with the Mark, or...

demon residue made me laugh

dean getting defensive and weird, i'm sure he's fine

LOL all right (wiki)

Shortly before the episode aired, in November 2014, a Supernatural version of Clue was released.

what an odd episode.

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 10x06 #hiky #spnhiky #izabella miko #coyote ugly #the xfiles #the killing #the magicians #kevin mcnulty #gillian vigman #spn clip #9 inches #eric charmelo #nicole snyder #colada

[westanthewaterman]

Hello!

I’m Westan, but you can call me West if you want!

This is my side blog where I write mainly for the Markiplier Cinematic Universe. I follow and interact from inspacewithchica

!!! I BLOCK MINORS !!!

ATTENTION: Please, please don’t send me any asks or tag me in anything bug related. I also encourage people to tag for bugs/insects/spiders. Thank you!

Latest Fic: Lurking in the Shadows - Murdock x GN!Reader

Claimed Anon List

On a semi writing hiatus!

Requests

Fics: CLOSED Drabbles: CLOSED Headcanons: CLOSED

Please read under the cut before sending me a request! :)

Request Guidelines 

These aren’t required but it will help me make sure I’m filling your request to the best of my ability!

Please specify:

SFW or NSFW

Drabble, Headcanon, or Fic 

Reader pronouns/AGAB

Romantic, Platonic, etc

Any prompts you would like (please send the actual prompt sentence, not just the number thank you!)

Characters I will write for:

*=sfw only

#=drabbles, and headcanons only

Annus #

Aurthur (aka Author)

Bing

Captain Magnum *#

Damien

Dark

Dr. Iplier

Engineer!Mark

Eric Derekson

God of Night

Google

Heehoo #

Illinois James

Marcus (aka Actor!Mark)

Murdock (aka Murderplier)

Noir!Mark

Stan the Water Man *#

The Host

The Jims #

Porniplier #

Wilford Warfstache

William J Barnum #

Yancy

Things I will write:

SFW or NSFW

F/M/GN/AFAB/AMAB Reader

Ego x reader x Ego

Ego x Ego 

(this one is up to my discretion, I’m more comfortable with some ships than others)

Things I won’t write:

Please don’t send asks about these topics, unless you are asking about my boundaries regarding them, thanks!

Pregnancy 

(breeding kink is fine)

Oral sex

CNC/Non-con

Rape

Incest

Pedophilia/Underage

Watersports/Scat

Foot fetish

Master/Slave

Hard pet play

(eating from a bowl, being in a cage)

Boot worship

Sir kink

Abuse

Hard impact play 

(canes, paddles, floggers, etc, riding crop is okay)

Self-harm/Suicide

Menstruation/Periods/Abortion 

Character Tags:

Annus/Mori - Sandman

Antisepticeye - Glitch Bitch

Author - Narration Nightmare

Bing - Bot Boi

Bim - Hungry Host

Captain/District Attorney - The Watcher

Captain Magnum - Tag Coming Soon

Damien - Mayor Man

Dark - 3D Fucker

Detective Abe - Detective Dork

Dr. Iplier - Doctor Doctor

Engineer!Mark - Engineer Egghead

Eric Derekson - Anxious Angel

God of Night - Divorced Deity

Google - Goog

Heehoo - Cave Cryptid

Heist!Mark - Thicc Thief

Illinois James - Indiana Jones Knockoff

Jameson Jackson - Dapper Gentleman

Jim Twins - Slim Jims

Marcus (aka Actor!Mark) - Drama King

Murdock (aka Murderplier) - Smooth Criminal

Noir!Mark - Detective Dreamy

Stan the Water Man - Tag Coming Soon

The Host - Radio Host

Porniplier - Pizza Prick

Wilford Warfstache - Pink Maniac

William J Barnum - Colonel Mustard

Yancy - Jailbird

General Tags:

West Whispers - talky stuff, asks, not writing

West Writes - all my writing

West is at Work - if I’m tagging things with this, that means I am at work, send me things to help my shift go by faster

Friends - mutuals and askbox friends

Horny Gang - anything involving the Horny Gang (Echo, W, + Nines)

Guilty Pleasure Hours - it’s late and I don’t want to go to bed so send me your guilty pleasures

SFW - read these in a public place

NSFT - read these in a public place if ur freaky

Events:

Milestone Celebration Masterlist

Kinktober Masterlist 2022

#master post #west writes

[prettysquishygirl]

Little fluff piece

Little fluff piece - it felt appropriate

"There's been a murder!"

Crowley leant forward in the chair and stared at the table and the evidence Aziraphale gathered together. The little black envelope sat in the middle, carefully assembled and neatly set within the square. He glanced up at his companion and although the words to mock formed neatly, he reached instead for the wine glass and swirled the contents before draining it. "You do realise this is a children's game."

"Not at all," said Aziraphale as he tilted the box. "Ages eight and up. There's no upper limit on fun."

"Fun?" Crowley said. "If you want to have fun, Angel, I can think of at least ten other things we could do."

"There's Cabernet Sauvignon," said Aziraphale and topped up the glasses. "And this is a reasonable  pastime for adults."

"Might as well be playing Happy Families," said Crowley. "Get the French version out. You could practice."

"Yes, well, Monsieur Fromage will have to wait," said Aziraphale and shuffled the cards at the side of the board. "You'll need to pick a colour."

Crowley groaned. "Oh I don't want to be bothered with any of this. Just pass me the black one."

"There isn't a black one, remember," said Aziraphale. "He's the dead body."

"Fine, red," said Crowley and looked round at the squares, rolling the token between his fingertips. "Where does this go?"

"Miss Scarlett sits there," said Aziraphale, pointing. "Next to the billiard room."

"The billiard room?" Crowley shook his head as he glanced over the board. "The lounge seems a much more comfortable place to commit a murder."

"And the rules are quite clear and you'll have to start over there," said Aziraphale as he picked up the red token and put it in its proper place. He settled the yellow token and sat back, pleased with the set up. "And I'm Colonel Mustard. So next we roll to see who goes first."

"Fine," said Crowley and gestured. The dice in the middle flipped over neatly. Two sixes. He smirked and raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale. "What do I do now?"

Aziraphale picked up the dice and dropped them into the shaker. "We start by not cheating," he said and rolled. He frowned at the snake eyes. "Did you do that?"

"Nope, just your bad luck," said Crowley and drank before he moved the token into the hallway. "Right, how do I get out of this place?"

"It isn't to get out of," said Aziraphale and huffed. "Really, Crowley, if you're not going to take this seriously then I'll put it away."

Crowley sighed and set down the wine glass. "No, listen. Fine. We'll play. Can't be any worse than anything else I had planned this evening."

"As a matter of interest, what did you have planned?" asked Aziraphale. "Doing evil?"

"I don't do evil, as such," said Crowley. "Not lately. Not really a need for it now. I mean, what's the point?"

"The point is…" Aziraphale paused and took a drink. "I suppose there isn't one. Same as me doing good."

"But you do good," said Crowley. "I've seen it. Heard the undying gratitude of the masses."

"I assure you I haven't done anything of the sort," said Aziraphale. "It's just that sometimes the things that I want naturally coincide with what the humans want."

"Clotted cream teas and something terrible by Chopin."

"Chopin is not terrible," said Aziraphale and drank again. "Admittedly having high tea is becoming a little heavy on the waistline."

"Wouldn't worry about it," said Crowley. "Anyway, what were you planning before you became Mr amateur detective tonight?"

"Nothing much," said Aziraphale. "I thought I might bring up that new box from downstairs. You know, get a little organised."

"This place doesn't need any more organising," said Crowley. "What were you really planning to do?"

"I didn't have a plan," said Aziraphale. "I mean I called you. I thought you'd have a good idea."

"I did," said Crowley, tilting the bottle and frowning at the emptiness. "You got another one of these?"

"Dozens," said Aziraphale. "Only you seem to be out of bright ideas too. Funny how that happens when you're not reporting to anyone."

"There's a lot to be said for doing nothing," said Crowley. "Just enjoying the moment."

"I've enjoyed plenty of moments," said Aziraphale. "But…you know it's rather nice when you can tell someone about what you've achieved. And just lately there's not exactly been anything I could put my finger on and say, 'I did that'."

"I did that, aren't I clever," said Crowley and considered carefully before he leaned in. "You are, you know, so ridiculously clever."

"You really think so."

"Course," said Crowley. "I mean obviously you are, which is why I don't know why we're playing a boardgame for kids."

"It's not for-"

"I know, I know. Eight and up. Still a kid's game," said Crowley and looked back at the board. "Listen, if I'm going to have to accuse Mr Bun the baker of killing whoever it is with a bloody candlestick, then you fess up that we're playing a game for babies."

"All right," said Aziraphale and uncorked the next bottle. "I'll admit it's not exactly the most mature game, but as I said, it can be rather fun. And Mr Bun the baker isn't in it."

"Shame," said Crowley. "I bet he'd be great at a bit of poisoning in your croissant."

"You know, I've always thought there was something to be said for a baker who could pull something like that off," said Aziraphale. "In a completely theoretical way, of course."

"Of course," said Crowley and grinned. "Is it the candlestick?"

"What?" asked Aziraphale and frowned as he checked the cards in his hand. He carefully drew one out and, cupping it carefully, showed the front to Crowley.

Crowley stared pointedly at the card and then up again. "Angel, who are you hiding it from. We're the only ones playing."

"Oh yes," said Aziraphale and sighed heavily. "I was just rather getting into it."

"Wouldn't want to stop that," said Crowley. He drained the glass and reached over to top both of them up. The red liquid swirled as he drank and gestured to the board. "Go on then. Make your move. Can't wait to be accused of something I actually didn't do."

Aziraphale nodded and rolled the dice. He didn't get very far and Crowley absolutely didn't have the cards he wanted. Several times. By the time he'd managed to get through the secret passageway and landed in the library, he was both certain that he knew the contents of the envelope and that Crowley hadn't made any serious attempt to do any of it. "It was Miss Scarlett with the revolver in the library," he said and when Crowley didn't so much as glance at his cards, he huffed. "You know."

"Well of course I know," said Crowley. "I mean we could both know. It's just a little black envelope. Not exactly the hardest thing to see through. Either of us could have done it."

"Yes, but you were the one that did!" Aziraphale emptied the glass and huffed. "I thought you were going to play properly."

"Demon," said Crowley. "That was playing it properly."

Aziraphale didn't quite pout, but it was very close. "I thought when you'd come over that we'd have a little fun. A little innocent fun and you've cheated again."

"Only once," said Crowley and clinked his glass against the angel's. "I mean you did work it out legitimately. No cheating in that. You did well."

"Don't try and flatter me," said Aziraphale. "I'm not about to be tempted into doing something silly."

"I'm not tempting you at all," said Crowley. "Not in the least." He tilted his head and then reached for the black envelope and tipped out the contents. "I mean, I could."

"Hmm?"

"If you wanted me to?" Crowley lounged back in the chair. "Just a little one. Something very small."

"There's nothing small about that," said Aziraphale and frowned heavily. "What kind of thing were you thinking of? We're already drinking wine."

"I'll think of something," said Crowley and dangled the glass from his fingers. "What are you in the mood for? Cake? Sushi? A banquet?"

For a moment, there was silence. The traffic passed by outside the bookshop and the lights dimmed a little inside. And if the world seemed to hold its breath, then it was just for a fraction of a second before Aziraphale offered a wry smile.

"Happy Families it is then," he said and took a quick breath as he started to gather up the game. "Seems appropriate."

"Not quite," said Crowley and rolled the glass before he opened his hand and glanced down as the pack manifested itself in his palm. "How is the old French, then?"

"Magnifique," said Aziraphale. "And yours?"

"C'est parfait," said Crowley and passed over the cards to Aziraphale. His index finger pressed, held and drew down his companion's palm. Just a moment. Just a touch and his tongue flicked briefly against his bottom lip as he sat back in the chair. "Bonne chance, mon ange."

Aziraphale glanced across at Crowley, quirked a smile. "I assure you, this time I feel quite lucky," he said and dealt the first card.

#crowley/aziraphale #good omens #fanfic

[ghostofanovelwriter]

My brother and I recently watched Clue (1985) for the first time and I thought I’d some some of our comments throughout the viewing.

“Y’aaaal that’s a cheap maid’s outfit.”

-“Her name’s white and she’s wearing black clothing. No one thought hard on that one.”

-“Can you imagine getting into a stranger’s car just like that? Can’t relate.”

-“I can’t tell the men apart at all. They’re all white and men. Why are they dressed the same? At least the women have interesting outfits.”

-“Watsword is a fraud. Why does he have an English accent?”

-“There is literally nothing in those spoons.”

-“Wait, who’s related to who? Somebody slept with somebody else, right?”

-“WHO’S THE FUCKING HOST?”

-“I can’t stop staring at the maid’s boobs.”

-“I’m so confused right now.”

-“so she’s totally killing her husbands, right?” “Nah, I think she just likes dressing like a widower.” Cue intense cackling as the men cross their legs.

-“EYYO! Green’s a homosexual? Why’s he being blackmailed he didn’t do anything wrong?”

-“I’m liking Scarlet but judging from her name she’s definitely up to something. The fuck’s a double negative?”

-“A CANDLESTICK IS NOT A WEAPON!”

-“Shit is that Tim Curry?”

-“It’s Wadsworth! I’m calling it right now. Never trust Tim Curry when he locks you up in a mansion!”

-“This has polyamory couple potential. Just complete chaos.”

-“Stop running around I can’t keep track of y’all.”

-“Y’all, give Green a seat. This is homophobic.”

-“Wadsworth is a bitch. A nasty one or an iconic one I can’t tell. All I see is Tim Curry.”

-“Omg if Green ends up being the murderer imma riot. He’s never done anything wrong.”

-“White’s iconic. Give her more screentime.”

-“Oh, wait! BODDY SOUNDS LIKE BODY AND HE’S THE FIRST VICTIM OMG I JUST REALIZED-!”

-“Peacock is suspicious. What’s she leaving the room for? Not for a oui oui?”

-“Zombies!”

-“Green is suspect number one on my list.”

-“NOOO! Don’t kill off Tim Curry!”

-“it’s totally that dude. Comes in way too randomly.”

-“Take a shot for every pun in this movie.”

-“Colonel is spilling way too much whiskey for it not to be poisoned.”

-“What is the point of asking if anybody is in the house of you’re not going to believe him?”

-“And of course Green ends up with Yvette. I swear if he somehow ends up straight because of this-“

-“nvm they’re totally the best duo.”

-“I’m getting weird tension between Watsworth and White. Is it just me?”

-“Nice knowing you Scarlet.”

-“Oh shit, that dude must’ve broken in and then went back outside to be invited back in the not arouse suspicion!”

-“has that dude just not question why he’s locked up in the library?”

-“alright I’m just confused again.”

-“someone just kill mustard please.”

-“ah man, now there’s going to be a dead black dude? That’s racist.”

-“they act so much like a family in such a short amount of time. Murder really brings people together.”

-“lol, Green looking terrified of straight sex.” “I think he’s terrified at the prospect of corpses having sex.” “Oh.”

-“are they seriously checking the house again? They’ve totally forgotten their original plan right?”

-“OMG YVETTE!”

-“OMG GREEN! Where’s Green?”

-“Tbh i’d shoot someone too if I got a singing telegram.”

-“at least have a little remorse for the corpses. God.”

-“fuck Wadsworth. We get it, we were watching the movie too y’know?”

-“tim curry runs like a video game character.”

-“GET TO THE POINT TIM CURRY!”

-“what do I even know anymore?”

-“i don’t even know who know who.”

-“Wait it was Scarlet? Wait what?”

-“Ah yes, the true idea of capitalists: blackmail.”

-“Wait.”

-“WHAT?”

-“Wait. Which ending is this?”

-just a garble of confused noise at this point.

-“WADSWORTH YOU BITCH!”

-“Fucking everything is a red herring at this point. Who cares about communism?”

-“i’m still so confused!”

-“Fucking everyone’s a criminal!”

-“NO GREEN WAIT! NO GREEN I LOVE YOU! SORRY FOR EVER SUSPECTING YOU!”

-“WHAT KIND OF STRAIGHT NONSENSE IS THIS?”

-“I’ve never have a character simultaneously surpass my expectations and disappoint me at the very same time.”

Overall 8/10 would recommend

#clue 1985 #80s movies #murder mystery #whodunnit #tim curry #that ending was ridiculous tho #fuck sleeping with your wife when tim curry is right there #couldn’t keep all the motives and alliances straight #instant classic for me still

[corvidaedream]

@cryptyd just called me a "sexy colonel mustard"

[mbop123]

Just noticed something: in the recap at the start of 4x07, they show an additional clip of Dave from 4x06 — from when they are in the van wiring Beth up pre dinner with the in-laws, and he says to Beth “do you want this over or not??”. The “this” in question being the undercover operation to arrest razzle dazzle Rio red handed.

This scene isn’t in the episode prior and I find it interessssstingggg 🕵️‍♀️ that they included it here in the recap, to tee up the content of the episode.

It adds weight to Beth’s half hearted “so it’s not over” in the kitchen after the busted sting, as well as her general hesitation to gather even an iota of useful evidence for the SS and her offer to ditch “Carolyn” mere minutes before walking into the bank.

#just call me colonel mustard #Rio literally had to backwards engineer his own investigation #I want them to lean IN to the confliction she’s feeling #guilt #betrayal #dramaaaaaaaa #brio #good girls nbc #nbc good girls #beth x rio #gg 4x06 #gg 4x07 #razzle dazzle rio

[homoclothes]

#just facts here on thotchocolat #op #sorry im just in a fucking mood #my guard directors are in an independent guard themselves and their show is clue like the boardgame #that might sound boring but its actually fucking amazing #there are 26 people and there are 4 people to one character (like ms scarlet colonel mustard mrs peacock etc) and then two butler characters #and it plays like a good old fashioned aristocratic murder mystery #everyone just acts super snooty and extra and its great #near the beginning someone dies sparking the murder mystery and then at the very end the butlers pass out these wine glasses and #everyone picks up their flags which are white with a spilled wine glass on it #and they do the flag feature and soon one by one they all start falling over dramatically.. dead while the butlers stand in the very middle #all smugly #its so g r e a t #like not only is it just so fun but everyone in that guard is so talented omg #i would link to a video but i cant find any videos of their show this year its makin me real nad #yeah but anyway the reason this connects to latin jazz is cause their music #it starts with a brass version of little fugue in g minor and then goes into this dramatic string piece #but then girl falls over and dies and everyone is like ' :o! oh my goodness! welp time to party' lmaoo and then the latin jazz thing starts #and the jazz piece is called beethoven in havana and its like a super cool recreation of the 2nd mvmnt of Beethoven's 7th symph #ill link to that lmao #https://youtu.be/mZRb0FyAa9s #its so fucking g o o d #yeah but today i hit the goddamn jackpot and found the exact recordings of all the music in their show and now I'm bald

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

The Witcher Characters as Things My Chaotic 13-year-old Brother Has Said

Geralt: I always feel better after a good yell, you know? I ride my bike down the trail by the school, wander into the woods a bit, and scream until everything is okay again.

Ciri: There’s a huge toad in the back yard and I named him Colonel Mustard. He’s ginormous and I’m going to find a way to turn him into Godzilla.

Yennefer: I make sure to use a lot of moisturizer so girls will want to hold my hands.

Jaskier: Me, go to a high school dance alone? Absolutely not. When I’m in high school I’m going to every single dance with at least three dates. I want to be, like, anime-boy popular.

Eskel: Flossing is stupid. The dance, not the stuff you do with your teeth. That’s actually really important.

Lambert: I’ll bet you a new pair of Crocs that I can climb this entire tree.

Triss: No one saw me do it so it’s not my fault.

Vesemir: Have you considered giving up entirely and moving to a shed in Scotland? I have. Sounds nice. 

Stregobor: Dad keeps calling me a rat bastard but I know for a fact that he’s my biological father. I know because everyone in this family has the same flat butt.

Renfri: Guess who has two thumbs and just got banned from a McDonald’s Playplace?! Not me, actually. I respect Ronald’s habitat.

#i love him so much #samwise may you always be a fountain of weird shit #geralt #jaskier #vesemir #lambert #eskel #the kaer morons #my brother has massive chaotic energy #witcher shitpost #witcherposting #netflix the witcher #witcher shitposting #jaskierposting #bardposting #incorrect witcher quotes #witcher meme #i save these things on a notes app on my phone #i think i have like 200 at this point

[dannyboy-writes]

Murders of murderers

Camp Nightwing.

More like Camp Nightmare.

The worst part of it was a tie between the Sunnyvale pricks and the fact that you were now on clean duty.

Probably it was the Sunnyvale pricks, though.

The only nice thing from it was Ziggy, but even she passed on cleaning the toilets with you.

You didn’t blame her.

Scrubs here, there, over the side. Blah, blah, blah.

You almost missed Ziggy heading to nurse Lane’s cabin, but you rushed to her side.

“Hey,” you smiled, cleaning your hands in some rag over a chair nearby.

“Oh, hey, didn’t know you were finished. I would’ve gone with you instead of being chased by Sheila and her goons,” she grunted.

“Well you missed nothing from my cleaning journey, and- Holy shit, what happened on your arm, Z?”

“Sheila.”

She didn’t seem to want any more questions, so you just followed her inside, looking for nurse Lane.

“Hey, Ziggs,” you called. “Check this out.”

You showed her a book - presumably from nurse Lane, but you didn't know - and read over the pages.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You and Ziggy jumped and turned around to see nurse Lane standing by the door of her office, her face stoic.

“I need some medical attendance,” Ziggy said, pointing at her arm.

As nurse Lane took care of Ziggy’s arm, you left to the main room.

You picked at one of the table’s dry wood when you heard a whisper, a chill running through you.

“What?” You said.

“Hey, you good,” Ziggy asked.

“Yeah, what did you need?”

“Nothing… Why?”

“You- I thought you called me. Must’ve heard wrong.”

She shrugged. “You do know the arm wasn’t bleeding, right,” she grinned at you.

“You know I’m not good with blood. Or injuries at all, really.”

She slid her arm on your waist as you positioned yours on her shoulders, heading out.

-

You were walking around the camp as Joan gave red and blue t-shirts to everyone, grabbing a blue one from her.

Walking past the kids getting their faces painted you stopped at Tommy and Cindy, a question on your lips.

“Have any of you seen Ziggy?”

“You tried her cabin? I heard Sheila say something about her stuff,” Cindy suggested with a hint of sadness for her sister.

You thanked her and left for cabin 5 when you heard the voice again, and the same chills as before climbed up your spine.

Y/n…

Everything else seemed to stop at the voice, dizziness forming at the pit of your stomach. All the voices and the laughter, they were all…

Gone.

And then Kurt’s whistle interrupted you, as he went on gushing about Sunnyside’s victories in the color war.

You blocked him out of your ears as you headed to find Ziggy.

You knocked twice on the wooden frame before coming in. And when you did, oh boy.

A rage unbeknownst to you found your body, your hands clenched into tight fists.

All the graffitied walls and insults in the room. Clothes thrown over places, bags hanging from the beds.

And there was Ziggy, angry as hell, in the middle of it all, with a bucket of… Paint?

“What are you doing?”

She finally looked at you, “I didn’t have any pigs.”

“Who did this?”

You kinda already knew the answer. Who had been giving Ziggy hell since day one? Sheila.

“Colonel Mustard,” she retorted, as if she had read your mind.

You finally cracked a smile and went by her side.

“Do you need anything?”

“Nah, I think I’ll be fine. Sheila though, she’s going to need to scrub her clothes for some time.”

You left her to her vendetta and made your way back to your cabin.

Y/n…

“Okay, that’s not funny. Whoever that is, you’ve been doing that all day. It’s getting old,” you shouted into the empty prairie.

Y/n…

The grass seemed to slow you down and you had to hold onto a tree to stop the dizziness in you. A wave of anger and terror went through you as you listened to what the voice said.

“Hey, y/n,” some kid said. “I don’t remember my post in tonight‘s game. Do you know it?”

Your back was facing him as your grip tightened on the axe.

“Y/n?”

You turned around gaining momentum and slashed his chest.

You were another Shadysider, now.

----

I might do a part two of this... who knows...

#fear street #fear street imagine #ziggy berman imagine #ziggy berman #ziggy berman x reader

[to-be-frank-i-dont-care]

Some things that happened at a class party earlier this evening

Someone laughed while drinking soda and sprayed it across the table

We were playing a game called Catchphrase and it has a heavy plastic device that goes with it and I chucked it across the room for the other team to catch and accidentally hit a guy with it (I threw it pretty hard too)

I got an avocado

The front door opened and we all thought it was our friend Tali so we collectively screamed “TALIIII” and it wasn’t her, it was just a dude who looked very confused

This one guy showed up in pajamas

Another guy showed up in a Hogwarts sweatshirt and camo cargo pants that ended at like his calves (capris basically) but they were super bunched up so he looked like he was wearing trash bags

We were playing Clue and someone said “I say it’s Mrs. Snow” to people sitting in front of the yellow piece and I said “Don’t you mean Mrs. Mustard???” bc I haven’t played clue in years and forgot the names and anyway everyone was like “omg do you mean colonel mustard”

We had an entire conversation on how things were pronounced weirdly

We did a white elephant gift exchange and one guy got a little squishy pink hippo keychain and immediately began twirling it around his finger yelling “WEAPON”

The Clue instructions were in Spanish so this one girl was like “aight I got this” and tried translating but she could only understand a few words so she just kept saying a bunch of random words like “team red piece” cause it was all she knew

There was a pumpkin that looked like it had talons

We were going to watch Veggietales but it failed

One girl got a palette of super glittery eyeshadow as her white elephant gift so she went around and put it on people

The guys were putting on nail polish bc one of them got some in his gift and one girl went “ugh I hate the smell of nail polish” and this one dude goes “WHAT IT SMELLS AMAZING” and proceeded to sniff his fingernail very intensely

We were arguing over how to play Clue and one guy goes “why are the pieces so boring?? They’re not human!!”

There were two dogs and everyone went insane whenever they saw them (I mean actual screaming)

We ate dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets

One girl was complaining to a guy about how cold she was and asking “how are you wearing short sleeves?” and he goes “I’m not cold cause I have muscle” and she just flat out glared at him bc she literally has no muscle whatsoever

I was talking and a guy stared at me and goes “omg Lizzy you’re so loud!! You’re never loud!!” bc at school I’m usually pretty quiet. Later he went up to his friends and was like “did you know Lizzy is like, super talkative??” and I just stood there like “😂 yeah I am”

We had just gotten our food and one guy says “I’m going to eat in the murder room” meaning the room where we were playing Clue

I wrapped my gifts really horribly bc I was in a rush and earlier I said to the group “yeah I slapped tape on em” so when we were exchanging gifts one guy picked up a gift and was like “Lizzy is this yours” and I was like “yeah how’d you know?” and he goes “cause it’s falling apart”

Anyway

That was our class party 😂

#it was very chaotic but super fun #I’m wearing eyeshadow now from the one girl who put it on everyone #i feel really pretty #also tired #and I have homework to finish lol #Lizzy rambles

[paulbunyanstatue]

I just feel like the lead-up to a batfam game night is hilarious.

Jason cleaning his guns and standing in his office over an unconscious body looks up to see Stephanie waltz in. “What do you want, Spoiler?”

“Cut the shit, Jay. You sent all of your goons out, I watched them leave.” Steph pushed her hood back and smirked, bringing the straw of her slurpee to her lips. Even after revival, Jason remembered the 7/11 treat and felt longing. “And this guy clearly isn’t going to interrupt,” she nodded at the body

“What flavor is that?”

“Coke and cherry, obviously.” She leaned against the desk and took a swig, purposefully ignoring the drops of condensation falling from the plastic cup and landing on the papers below. Jason grimaced at the ruined spots of writing.

“I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”

“We are having a game night at Dick’s tomorrow. You in?”

“Seriously, Steph? Game night?” Jason rolled his eyes and turned back to the gun.

“Yes. This week was Cass and Tim’s turns to pick. Cass picked charades and Timmy chose Clue. We are meeting up at 6.”

“That sounds so lame. Will there be alcohol?”

“Plenty.”

“I’ll be there. But I’m playing as the colonel or I’m out.”

“Good. It’s potluck rules, so bring a bean dip or whatever. See you then, Colonel Mustard,” she turned on her heel and stalked toward the door without sparing another glance at the man who was now subtly stirring on the floor.

“Bring me one of those tonight!” He called after her, referring to the drink in her hand. She gave a dismissive wave And disappeared around the corner.

(She showed up to game night with a slurpee for Jason)

#batfam #batfamily #red hood #jason todd #stephanie brown #Spoiler #dick grayson #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman #dcu comics #DCU #I just think it’s funny for them to have these conversations while in superhero uniform #especially with Jason #they probably draw straws to determine who has to go out and find him to invite him #because he never answers his phone when his siblings call

[palimpsessed]

Writerly Ephemera

I was tagged by @amywaterwings @mostlymaudlin @tea-brigade @effing-numpties @captain-aralias @bloodiedpixie . This is so cool, so thanks for sharing yours! ❤️

Per Amy: We add little bits of ourselves to our writing, scattering memories and places and phrases and things into our stories. The game is to find five examples of this, of YOU, in your writing and show everyone.

I don’t really feel like I put much of my own experiences into my fic, probably because I don’t feel like I have a lot of experiences to pull from. (That’s not me being self-deprecating; that’s me never going anywhere or doing anything.) So, let’s see what we come up with!

Going to tag here. I feel like I’ve gotten to this late so I’m not sure who has been tagged. Anyway. No pressure, loves. Just saying hi. 🥰 @theflyingpeach @bazzybelle @otherworldsivelivedin @unseelieseelie @wetheformidables @caitybug @nightimedreamersworld @foolofabookwyrm @stillmadaboutpetra

1. I have put the most of myself into A Man of Letters. I have my degree in English Lit and when I was in college, I was at the height of my Jane Austen obsession. So I sort of built my degree around the development of the English novel. My senior thesis was on a book called Evelina by Frances Burney, who was one of Austen’s greatest literary influences. Evelina is an epistolary novel—told entirely in letters. I love the epistolary form, for the same reason I love dialogue and texting fics. It’s such a fun narrative technique and can reveal so much about individual characters. It’s actually a bit like the way Rainbow Rowell uses multi POV in her books. Anyway, my love of the epistle was on full display in this fic, which is ofc told in letters. —Do I share a passage? That’s like...the whole fic 😅 So, idk. Here’s Simon being a disaster as he meditates on letter writing:

Dear Penny,

As I start this letter, I already know I'm not going to post it. I know I won't be able to bring myself to do it, because of what I have to say to you. I do feel bad. It's not that I don't want to tell you. And you know I'm so much better at writing things down than saying them out loud. It's only that I feel like this would all sound better coming from me in person. I just don't think I'll be able to make you understand in a letter. I'm still trying to understand myself. And writing all of this down helps me with that. Even if I'm only pretending to write to you, it makes me feel better, to think of you on the other end. I promise I really will tell you everything as soon as we're together again.

2. Also for A Man of Letters, my fascination with Regency fashions, in particular the dandy, was a major factor. I did an art book about this, comparing how fashion has changed over time, especially in regard to gender. (I also did an art book based on Evelina, since I’m on the subject. I minored in book art. 😁) I always fancied the look of a Regency dandy, so that was my gift to Baz.

Whoever has been working their magic on Salisbury should in fact be the person to whom I offer my eternal devotion. Alas, I am left to flounder under the burden of lusting after a man who is incapable of dressing himself.

The utter and unmitigated shame.

Salisbury wore a forest green wool frock coat that set off the golden highlights in his brown locks. This was accented with a green and aubergine striped silk waistcoat that was trimmed in white piping and felt much too daring a pattern for the man. (I don't care if he was a soldier; it takes a hardier man than him by half to choose a stripe like that.) His charcoal trousers were enticingly snug, but not so much to prove lethal. His cravat and points left much to be desired, though that likely reflected poorly on his ability to keep himself in order, rather than the ability of his valet. (Good God, maybe the man doesn't even have a valet!)

3. When it came to my countdown fic, To the Manor Borne, I had Shep make a reference to Cluedo, because Pitch Manor would be perfect for a real life game. Behind that, is the fact that my family played a lot of Clue and I watched the movie a whole bunch growing up, to the point where my sister and I used to quote it to each other. This was a way to pay homage to that. He also talks about playing the game Murder in the Dark, which was one I played at Halloween as a kid. One of my cousins was dressed as a ghoul with glow in the dark face paint and we were in my grandma’s creepy upstairs. Perfect vibes.

I’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room and the library and the study and the parlor. Walking through this house is like playing Clue. (They call it Cluedo on this side of the pond, because they like to be difficult.) (That was a whole thing. Do not get me started.)

I keep thinking Colonel Mustard’s going to pop up out of nowhere and brain me with a lead pipe.

And:

What kind of games do you play with magickal friends who don't have magic? Twister? Not with the wings and tail. Cards? Baz and Penny would cheat. Or accuse everyone else of cheating if they didn't win. Murder in the dark? With these people, in this house, I knew it would turn literal fast, and also it was like ten in the morning. Hide and seek? Simon and I would hide and everyone else would ditch. Snowball fight? World War III.

4. I’ve referenced Mozart in my fics a couple of times because when I was first getting into classical music, I was listening to a lot of Mozart. My sister had a CD of some of his early symphonies, and my local classical station does “Mozart in the Mornings” which happened to fit in the exact time slot between two morning classes I had my first year in college. I’d go sit in my car with a cup of tea, and just vibe with Mozart as my soundtrack. I’ve name dropped him in both A Man of Letters and To the Manor Borne. Also, Mozart wrote 12 variations on the melody shared by Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which is a lovely tie in. (I also had the gang sing/cast The Holly and the Ivy, which is one of my favorite Christmas carols, and by strange coincidence was playing on the radio at the same time I wrote that scene. 🥰)

"It's a songbook," I tell him, like he can't figure that out for himself. "Did you know that Mozart wrote twelve different versions of the same song?"

He's laughing. "Mozart did not write Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Simon."

"You know what I mean."

"He composed twelve variations for solo piano on the French folk melody Ah! Vous dirai-je, maman."

"Sure. Anyway, this is for the violin. For you to play."

He's still laughing, and I'm trying to figure out what's so funny, but then he kisses me again, on the lips this time, so I figure maybe I'm still doing okay.

Only one more to go! What will it be? 👀

5. Therapy! Eheheh...😅 Look, it’s no secret the gang needs it. And tbh, so do I. Haven’t actually managed to get myself to go yet, and I think that’s where a lot of my “send them to therapy” happy endings come from. I did it in Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne. I started Chamber by Chamber with SnowBaz already in therapy, and then structured the whole thing around therapy that they give to each other and to themselves. It didn’t really fit in A Man of Letters, but if it had, I absolutely would have done it. I’ve only shared from two fics so far, and since it could kind of spoil the ending to Use Your Words (tho saying this may be spoiler anyway...), here are two snippets from It’s a Kind of Magic, Part I of Chamber by Chamber.

I've been working on articulating my needs. We both have. Ordinarily, I'd be afraid of pushing him away by making demands when he's on the verge of a spiral, but my therapist insists that I can't go on treating Simon with kid gloves. If I never ask him for anything, he'll think he doesn't have anything to give.

And

When I told that to my therapist, she said that I needed to talk it out of me and she'd help me find ways to work through it all. She said I needed to talk it out with Baz, too, so that he'd know how to help me when things got bad again—that was something else she said, that things would get bad again, and that I'd need to be prepared for that. That I couldn't expect things to be easy, and just go away.

6. BONUS! I think the biggest way I include bits of myself is in the AUs I’ve chosen to write. I have three I’m planning that say a lot about me, so I’m going to talk a bit about them here. There is ofc my Scooby Doo AU, inspired in large part by the fact that I watched it all the time growing up and also, my sister continues to be obsessed with it. When we were young, my parents were doing a lot of work on their house and we’d take family trips to the hardware store. My sister and I hated it, so we’d wait in the car with my mom and she would entertain us with “Scooby Doo stories”. Other AUs I’m planning? Troop Beverly Hills—please tell me someone else out there loved this movie the way I did when I was 5. It was very influential to baby me and I remember wishing for nothing more than being able to dress like Shelley Long. So, I’m going to let Baz do it, because I think he deserves it. 🥰 Lastly, tho it will probably be the first I write, is my Cupid and Psyche AU, from when I was heavy into mythology and religion. Since these are all forthcoming projects, I don’t really have a snippet. Instead, here’s Baz comparing Simon to Eros, which is what started my brain on that particular AU.

I am lost. I barely know anything about Salisbury, but I can't help being drawn in. At one time, I could have comforted myself that I was only so smitten with him because he looks like he was sculpted by Praxiteles. That excuse grows weaker with every encounter. He's the furthest thing from a lifeless tribute to beauty in marble as one can be. There is something deep and dark and feral inside of him and I want to claw it out. I want to see it, to let it free. To taste his wildness and his pain.

#tag game #writerly ephemera

[esperwatchesfilms]

Clue (1985)

This is one of my all-time favorite films. I have no clue why. It might be the nostalgia factor. But I’m absolutely obsessed with it. I’ve seen it a million times, but I have never looked into the interesting trivia on its IMDB page, so this will be fun!

Awesome Fun Fact:

The color of each character's car is the same color as their playing piece in the game, and is introduced as follows: Colonel Mustard drives a yellow 1954 Cadillac Series 62, Mrs. White drives a black-and-white 1950 MG TD convertible, Mrs. Peacock drives a blue 1952 Packard 200 Deluxe club sedan, Mr. Green drives a green 1951 Plymouth Cranbrook, Ms. Scarlet drives a 1946 red Lincoln Continental, and Professor Plum drives a purple 1949 Pontiac Streamliner Station Wagon.

Prof. Plum: It’s frightened.

Something I Already Knew But Maybe You Didn’t: When Wadsworth cuts the power to the house during his solving of the mystery, it represents the point of divergence of the three endings.

Amusing Fun Fact: Professor Plum indicates at dinner that he works for the World Health Organization, part of the United Nations Organization. This means he works for UNO WHO.

Wadsworth: Professor Plum -- you were once a professor of psychiatry specializing in helping paranoid and homicidal lunatics suffering from delusions of grandeur. Prof. Plum: Yes, but now I work for the United Nations. Wadsworth: So your work has not changed. But you don’t practice medicine at the U.N. His license to practice has been lifted; correct? Miss Scarlet: Why? What did he do? Wadsworth: You know what doctors aren’t allowed to do with their lady patients? Miss Scarlet: Yeah? Wadsworth: Well, he did. Miss Scarlet: Ha!

Mrs. White: [after Mrs. Peacock swears that the reason she's being blackmailed is a vicious lie] Well, I am willing to believe you. I, too, am being blackmailed for something I didn't do. Mr. Green: Me too. Colonel Mustard: And me. Miss Scarlet: Not me. Wadsworth: [surprised] You're *not* being blackmailed? Miss Scarlet: Oh, I’m being blackmailed all right, but I did what I’m being blackmailed for.

Miss Scarlet: Well, to be perfectly frank, I run a specialized hotel and a telephone service which provides gentlemen with the company of a young lady, for a short while. Professor Plum: Oh yeah? [pulls out pen and a pad of paper] Professor Plum: What's the phone number?

Wadsworth: The double negative has turned to proof positive. I’m afraid you gave yourself away. Colonel Mustard: Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests? Wadsworth: You don’t need any help from me, sir. Colonel Mustard: That’s right!

Wadsworth: Mrs. White, you've been paying our friend, the blackmailer, ever since your husband died under, shall we say, mysterious circumstances? Miss Scarlet: Ah! [laughs] Mrs. White: Why is that funny? Miss Scarlet: I see! That's why he was lying on his back, in his coffin. Mrs. White: I didn't kill him. Colonel Mustard: Then why are you paying the blackmailer? Mrs. White: I don’t want a scandal, do I? We had had a very humiliating public confrontation. He was deranged. He was -- [points to head] Mrs. White: -- a lunatic! He didn't actually seem to like me very much.

Miss Scarlet: Why would he wanna kill you in public? Wadsworth: I think she meant he threatened, in public, to kill her. Miss Scarlet: Oh. Was that his final word on the matter? Mrs. White: Being killed is pretty final, wouldn't you say? Wadsworth: And yet, he was the one who died, not you, Mrs. White, not you! Miss Scarlet: What did he do for a living? Mrs. White: He was a scientist, nuclear physics. Miss Scarlet: What was he like? Mrs. White: He was always a rather stupidly optimistic man. I mean, I'm afraid it came as a great shock to him when he died, but he was found dead at home.

Mrs. White: I had been out all evening at the movies.

Wadsworth: But, he was your second husband. Your first husband also disappeared. Mrs. White: Well, that was his job. He was an illusionist. Wadsworth: But he never reappeared! Mrs. White: [chuckling, admittedly] He wasn't a very good illusionist.

Prof. Plum: Maybe he was poisoned!

Wadsworth: He decided to put his information to good use and make a little money out of it. What could be more American than that?

Col. Mustard: You lure men to their deaths like a spider with flies! Mrs. White: Flies are where men are most vulnerable.

Mrs. Peacock: No, I just want to powder my nose. Thank you.

Wadsworth: Sorry!

Wadsworth: The key is gone! Professor Plum: Never mind about the key, unlock the door! [smacks Mr. Green on the shoulder] Mr. Green: [grabs Professor Plum by the collar, throttling him] I CAN'T UNLOCK THE DOOR WITHOUT THE KEY! [releasing Plum, Mr. Green rattles doorknob] Mr. Green: LET US IN! LET US IN! Colonel Mustard, Miss Scarlet: [on other side of locked door] LET US OUT! LET US OUT!

Mrs. Peacock: Our lives are in danger, ya beatnik!

Communism is Just a Red Herring Fact: The line "Communism is just a red herring" is said in all three endings (twice by Wadsworth and once by Miss Scarlet). Not only is it is a pun (particularly after World War II, the Russian Communists were frequently called "reds", for example, the anti-Communist slogan, "Better dead than red."), but it cleverly refers to a MacGuffin (or a real "red herring") implemented by the screenwriters, because none of the murderers motives end up having anything to do with creating political conspiracy. There are various visual red herrings on-screen, such as a hammer and sickle on the shelf beside the torch Colonel Mustard finds, and a bust of Lenin in the attic.

ESE: 125/100

50 +10 for Tim Curry +4 for the dogs +2 for the dog poo shoe +5 for Mr. Green’s obedience (”Sit! No, not you, sir.”) +1 for Mrs. Peacock’s glasses +5 for amazing one-liners +5 for the discussion about why Mrs. White’s being blackmailed -10 for homophobia -5 for The Three Stooges antics when Mr. Boddy’s secret is revealed +5 for not shouting +5 for confusion +5 for most hilarious pairings +10 for secret passages +3 for the ironing board +10 for singing telegram +10 for Wadsworth walking through the whole thing +6 for 3 different endings -10 because the timing makes no sense for Mrs. White to have killed Yvette +10 for Mr. Green going home to sleep with his wife +4 for Clue card credits

#Clue #Tim Curry #Christopher Lloyd #Michael McKean #Madeline Kahn #Eileen Brennan #Lesley Ann Warren #Colleen Camp #Martin Mull #Lee Ving #80s movies #80s films #movies #films #comedy #mystery #suspense #thriller #crime #review #world record

[the-minus-four]

Snowed In (Thor x Reader)

Here’s my entry to @firefly-in-darkness​ Winter Challenge! 

Summary: On a S.H.I.E.L.D. winter retreat, you and Thor get snowed in at a cabin together. It’s more alone time than the two of you have ever had together. Who knows how you will entertain each other...

Rating: 18+ (smut)

Word count: 3196

Tags: sex, mirror sex, squirting, orgasms, fingering, blowjob, smut, mild degradation

A/N: For Daisy’s winter writing challenge, using the prompt “Snowed in at a cabin”, and I chose Thor. I hope you enjoy! I sure did :P 

“Dammit!” you muttered looking out the window of the cosy cabin and seeing the snow inches high and covering the ground outside in an eerie blanket. That must be thigh deep, maybe even up to your bottom. You shivered at the thought and turned to the large empty cabin. This was meant to be a trip away with the Avengers and some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who had been involved in some of the year’s activities. Now it looked like it wasn’t going to be particularly lively. Everyone had gone out skiing earlier in the day, but there was no way you were going to join them. You couldn’t skateboard, you couldn’t surf, hell, you couldn’t even roller skate. As your dad always said “you have the balance of a clumsy child” and he definitely wasn’t lying. You heard a crash upstairs. Oh great, Thor had finally woken up, apparently Gods weren’t immune to the ‘man flu’, and he had spent the day moping in bed. He came down the stairs, stomping heavily on each step. 

“Is anyone here?!” he croaked out. 

“Yes, I’m here, everyone else went skiing.”

“Oh, well when are they coming back?” he asked, looking over to you softly. You crossed your arms and swallowed, unsure how he would take the news that you were probably going to be alone and stuck in the cabin at least overnight, if not longer. 

“Um, I guess you haven’t looked out the window, huh?” you laughed nervously. Thor frowned at you and stalked across the room towards you, his face up against the window. 

“What? Just some light snow.” He looked back at you. You chuckled, forgetting how oblivious he could be. If he thought this was light then you wondered what snowfall on Asgard was like. “They can get back, I’ll just clear a path.” He stomped over to the front door of the cabin, pulling open the door. A wall of white blocked up to where the door handle had been, a small imprint in the snow. Thor moved forward into the snow.

“Thor! Stop, you’ll freeze!” Surely he couldn’t be this desperate to not be alone with you. He shuffled into the snow and it came crashing down into the lodge behind him. “Wait, you’re getting snow in here!” He stopped, looking over his shoulder to see the mess. 

“AA, AA, ACHOOO!” he roared, echoing into the silence outside. Rolling your eyes you walked over to him, grabbing his arm and trying to drag him back inside. He looked down at you pulling at his arm, clearly perplexed that you thought you could move him, the mighty Thor. “Okay, okay, fine.” He conceded and turned inside, traipsing snow through the doorway. 

“I think you’d better get out of those wet trousers,” you said, looking down at his now soggy legs. As you looked back up to his face, eyes raking across his body, lapping him up, you realised what you’d just said. His devilish grin and raised eyebrow made you blush furiously. 

“Oh really, well, Y/N, I didn’t think you were interested in me…” he goaded.

“No, that’s not what I meant, I am, I mean, I’m, you’re…” you stammered over your words and walked away from him, cheeks burning and tripping over nothing on your way.

“Y/N…” he called. You turned to him and screamed, immediately spinning back. He was stood there in his underwear, fuck, you were going to struggle getting that out of your head, and your stomach filled with butterflies. 

He laughed loudly, and snuck his way back upstairs, leaving you stood blushing with your eyes covered. He returned after a minute, seeing you in the same position as before. You hadn’t noticed he was gone, too wrapped up in your own head, thinking about his thick thighs, and the shape of his cock through his underwear. 

“Y/N,” Thor said softly. 

“I’m not turning around until you put something on.” 

He stepped close behind you, his warm musky smell adding to your distraction. Reaching around you his hands encircled your wrists and he pulled your hands away from your eyes. He spun you around, you were closer to the God than you ever had been and your heart was racing. You glanced down, seeing he had replaced the soaking joggers with checked red pyjama bottoms, and a woollen jumper. He chuckled at you.

“Checking me out again,” he grinned. You blushed again and tried to pull away from him, but your arms were still in his grasp. He released you, and you took a seat on the couch. To your surprise he came and sat near you, despite the huge space. “So what are we going to do. Stuck here, surely there’s nothing exciting. I’m bored.” Thor had gone from sexy, strong, and desirable, to bored child within a matter of seconds. You realised that being stuck here in a small cabin, on a different world, he had no idea what to do. Being surrounded by servants and entertainers and life, and now action and strategy, he had not stopped. He’d never had to just be, and find something less… loud to occupy his attention. 

“Well, we could put a Christmas movie on, or play a board game.” 

“A bored game? I just said I was bored, I don’t want to play a game which would make me more bored.” You giggled at his naivety. 

“No, a game, it’s a game on a board. Have you never played?” He shook his head, and you got up, opening the cupboard under the television and looked at the selection of games. All the classics were there as you’d expect, Catan, Cluedo, Scrabble, Frustration. No Monopoly, which was probably for the best, you could just imagine the arguments if you played that. Steve would be buried in the rule book, Thor would try and claim everything, Natasha would be winning without people noticing, and someone would definitely flip the board and rage quit. 

You pulled out Cluedo, your childhood favourite. Sitting cross legged on the other side of the settle, Thor watched as you shuffled the cards and set up the game. You explained the rules, his face fixed in a frown. 

“So you play games where someone has been murdered?” he asked.

“Well yeah, the fun is in solving the murder. And beating the other player of course.” 

***

“I WIN! Right? I solved it, it was Colonel Mustard, with the rope in the kitchen!” Thor’s face was lit up. 

“Take a look, see if you were right.” You had someone else as the murderer that you were convinced by, but maybe you were wrong. He reached for the solution and pulled the cards out slowly. He grunted and threw the cards down, standing up abruptly. 

“This game, I don’t like it.” 

“Not Colonel Mustard?” you grinned. 

“No. Hey! How did you know, you cheated!” he loomed over you. 

Laughing at him, you shook your head. “No, I didn’t cheat.”

“You’re lying! Unless there’s some sort of witchcraft in this?” he picked through the cards again. 

“Wow, you sure are a sore loser,” you chuckled. He glared at you. “Well, I think it’s Mrs. Peacock, with the rope in the kitchen.” His eyes snapped up to you, shock echoing through his face. “I’m right, huh?” you laughed at him and began to pack up the game. 

“I don’t want to play a board game,” he sulked back into his seat. You put the box away, and sat next to him, his face in a pout. “When are they gonna get back?” He stood up and stared out the window, the snow still coming down. 

“I don’t know, maybe tomorrow.” He turned to look at you, features firm and frowning slightly. “Come on, you enjoyed the board game, is it really so bad being stuck here?”

“Yes, there’s not enough space. I’m bored,” his comments were starting to rile you. “There’s nothing to do.” 

“I see, you don’t want to be stuck here with just me, I’m boring huh. Fine, I’ll go to my room.” 

“No. Y/N, that’s not what I meant.” The rest of his protest went unheard by you as you stalked upstairs in a dramatic huff. You didn’t really know why his comments were bothering you, you just wanted to be liked by him you supposed. There really wasn’t any need to be mad or upset, but you were a bit annoyed that he kept moaning about being bored. You reached your room and slammed the door behind you, hearing Thor’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. Maybe you just needed a warm bath to relax you a little, and you padded into the bathroom and began to run your bath, dumping about a quarter of the bottle of lavender bubble bath in. Excessive, but oh well, you needed to unwind. You stripped off, before realising you’d left your towel at the bottom of your bed. Walking through to the bedroom in just your bra and panties, you weren’t expecting Thor to be stood there. You yelped and grabbed your towel, covering yourself. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted at him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he turned away slightly, allowing you to cover yourself properly, “I just, I, I do want to be stuck here with just you. I mean, I’ve enjoyed being here with you.” Why was he stumbling over his words, you hadn’t seen him like this before.

“Oh, well, I’ve uh, me too. I’m going for a bath,” you looked at him, still a little angry and turned towards the bathroom. You padded over to the bathtub and bent over to test the water, and turned off the taps. Thor moaned quietly behind you, and you looked up. His eyes were fixed on your ass, which had been exposed when you’d bent down. 

“Y/N, you don’t know what you’ve done to me, today has been claustrophobic, trapped in the cabin with you, not being able to distract myself from you or avoid you. Seeing you check me out, seeing you blushing, watching you concentrate on the game. Fuck, Y/N, you’ve been driving me wild.” He stepped towards you, and your heart was racing. Was he saying what you thought he was? He towered over you, stroking your hair, and moving to tilt your head to him. He moved slowly, cautiously to your lips. 

You moaned into him as he filled your senses, that musky smell infiltrating your nose and breath, his warm lips and scratchy beard kissing at your lips desperately, his tongue pushing into you. His hand reached around you and ripped the towel away from you, leaving you in your underwear again. You whimpered between his lips and his hands grasped at you desperately. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him, your hands reaching into his hair. Feeling his muscles under his jumper, and the strength of his arms around you was quickly causing the heat between your legs to become more and more uncomfortable. He carried you through to your bedroom, crashing against the door on your way. He pinned you against the door, running his hands up your body, and pulling at your bra. It fell away from you and to the floor, quickly being replaced by Thor’s hands. Kissing down your neck, his mouth fixed around your nipple and he pulled on it, nibbling a little. You mewled as his teeth made contact, and his fingers pinched at your other nipple. Fuck. He grabbed your waist again, and carried you the rest of the way to your bed, throwing you down on it. 

Pulling the jumper over his head, he revealed his rippling muscles. Your mouth dropped open, entranced by his incredible abs and biceps, mind racing with the different ways he could ruin you. He smirked as you watching him, and climbed on to you, taking your lips onto his. You leaned backwards and he ran his hand up your arm, entwining his fingers in yours and pushing your hand firmly into the bed. His hips ground into you, rubbing the sensitive part between your legs. You needed more, you needed him inside you. Reaching down between you, you cupped and stroked his length.

Thor growled, “eager to have me are you?” You nodded and bit down on your lip. He pulled away from you, and chuckled at the lust and pain at the sudden loss of him in your eyes. He paused for a moment, looking at you hungrily, his eyes gazing down your body. With his finger, he gently stroked your slit through your underwear. 

“Soaked for me already?” You whimpered, blushing that your body had given away your need. Bucking your hips forward you tried to get more friction, to get his finger on your clit, but he pulled away and spanked you softly. You let out a moan and threw your head back. He was so frustrating. The smirk on his lips only made you more annoyed, and pouting you sat up, reaching forward to pull his boxers off. His hard cock sprung free; you had no idea how you were going to be able to take him. You moved to kneel in front of him. Wrapping your hand around him, you worked him into your mouth, barely even halfway down his length you could feel him at the back of your throat. The thought of what he was going to do to your pussy caused you to whimper around him, tasting his salty precum on your tongue. 

His hands had been stroking through your hair, and pawing at your breasts while you sucked him, the wetness between your legs, still soaking through your panties. Without warning he pulled you off him flipping you over onto your front. Grabbing your hips he pulled you to your knees, and ripped off your underwear, leaving them torn and flung across the room. You were exposed and almost dripping in front of him. He slid his fingers between your lips instantly coated in your juices, and slid one thick finger inside you. He stilled.

“Please, Thor, I need more,” you moaned and rocked into his finger, trying to build friction, desperate for an orgasm. 

“Mm, but watching you fuck yourself on my finger is really something. Maybe I’ll let you have another.” A second finger pushed at your entrance. You couldn’t help but continue to fuck yourself on him, getting yourself closer to a release. But too soon, he slipped his fingers out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness, and his hands reached around you, lifting you up, your back flush to his hard chest, feeling his cock tease you. He walked over to the mirror in the corner of the room, and placed you down. 

“Back on your knees baby, I want to watch you come undone on my cock.” You obeyed him instantly, your self-consciousness overcome by the desperation to come. He pushed your back down until your nipples brushed the carpet and nudged your legs open. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, sliding in gently. You clenched around him, your body acclimatising to the sudden fullness. With one hand on your hip, the other reached forward, twisting your hair around it. He thrust into you, harder, hitting your cervix, and set a maddening pace. Within a minute of him fucking you, you screamed around him, and seeing him fucking you in the mirror, lustful delight across his face, the coil inside you snapped. He moaned gruffly, your body shaking at the intensity of your orgasm. 

He pulled back on your shoulders, holding you pressed against him. You leaned your head back into his chest, your boobs sticking out, as your back arched, still impaled on his cock. 

“Look in the mirror. Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, and you made eye contact with him in you reflection. “I said, look at yourself. Look at the wetness between your legs, and the way my cock looks inside you. Look at the way your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes, the eyes of a woman who cannot get enough of me. Look at my hand pulling on your nipple.” Another orgasm was building as he whispered next to you. His cock rammed into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over. He kissed your neck, his hand still rubbing at your nipple, whilst his other that pinned you to him began to bruise you. Without warning your second orgasm hit, and you leaked over his cock, wetness trickling down your legs as you screamed around him. He didn’t pause this time, continuing to fuck you, biting on your shoulder now. He moaned in your ear, grunting as you felt him spill inside you. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you are incredible.” He kissed your shoulder again, slowly pulling away, both of you wincing at the sensitivity. Thor stood up behind you, and gently lifted you to your feet. He swept you up, pausing to grab your towel, and carried you to the bathroom.

“Let’s have a bath, baby.” He kissed your lips and you smiled, still swimming in the high of your orgasm. He placed you down, and climbed into the bath, not letting go of your hand, he helped you balance and step into the tub. You settled into his arms, and spent time wrapped up together, soaking in the hot water until it began to cool. 

You heard footsteps and voices outside your door, shit, how did the others get in? Panicking you jumped out of the bath, quickly wrapping your towel around you. 

“Y/N! Thor! Where are you?” Tony’s voice echoed through your door. Bloody Stark, you knew he’d have found a way to get back, the hazard of being surrounded by geniuses and super heroes. You walked across the room to your door opening it slightly.

“Sorry, I was in the bath.” Tony smiled, noticing the red mark on your shoulder where Thor had bitten you, and looking over you seeing the messy bed covers and your underwear strewn across the room, a grin spread over his face. “What’s happened here, Y/N? Was there a fight? Have you seen Thor?” Tony pushed past you, looking around the room. 

“Umm no, everything’s fine, are you sure he isn’t um, in bed still?” You lied, your face beet red. An almighty splash came from behind you, and Thor walked into the room, dripping wet and butt naked. 

“What do you want Tony? I was enjoying a nice bath, is there an emergency?” Now it was Tony’s turn to blush, eyeing the muscled God before looking down to you, eyebrows raised. 

“No, I’m fine, just checking you’re okay,” and he skipped out of your room, grinning like a child. 

“What did you do that for?! Now everyone is gonna know what happened?” You turned to face Thor, pouting at him. 

Thor grinned and kissed you deeply, pulling you into his arms. “Well they’re going to hear you screaming my name again at some point, sweetheart.”

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