#blasphemous humour

[cervenakoviny]

[regicidal-defenestration]

I believe in a semi-present omni-malicious god. It's not around all of the time but it does have something out for me when it is

[nouru-vi]

Ah yes, Blasphemous 2, the tale of the trials and hardships of Penitent Two

[serialgirlposter]

Honestly i rlly don't even think the show is very good outside of how absurd it is but could they at least have kept her around to make me feel better.

[constance-mcentee]

PREVIOUS POST IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Tags by Tumblr user queen-of-cryptids read as follows:

#oompah loompah doopaty doom #hoc est sanguis et corpus meum

You're passing through Wonka's factory and through a doorway you see what is distinctly the body of Christ being fed into a big wacky machine

[mv1simp]

Earned It ♥️

Max Verstappen x Wife! Reader

cause girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it (I see nobody, nobody but you)

PART TWO HERE ♥️

The story of how you met your husband, Max Verstappen, is a fan favourite. A classic rags to riches Cinderella story - well, in this case, a working class med student with an outrageous loan meets F1 multimillionaire. For years, you two dodge the questions of having kids, due to your busy careers. But lately, your husband can’t stop thinking about a 3rd addition to your family…and no, he didn’t mean another cat.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, fluff, humour, pregnancy, angst but happy ending, very brief description of sexual harassment (not from Max obviously), simp!Max, brat! reader, smut, size kink, breeding kink (very versatile from me for once), 5.7k WC

Guys, seriously, we’ve talked about this behaviour, you need to be tidier. You look up from your comfortable position on the couch, where you’re typing away one of your research projects, to see your darling husband gently scolding your three pets. You muffle your laughter with your hand, 20karat diamond ring glinting, admiring his toned build as he stands with his hands on his slim hips, reprimanding the two cats - Sassy and Jimmy - and labrador Arlo about the mess they’d made on the patio. Hearing your giggles as you fail to contain yourself, Max turns around, grinning at the pretty sound. All done, schat? Want to go out for some lunch?

You hmm in agreement, standing up to stretch and walking over to him with a cheeky expression. But first I need you to explain just what you’re doing here. You know they can’t understand you right, babe?

Max immediately tells your three so called “kids” to ignore your blasphemous words, making you giggle again at what a dork your husband was. No one would ever guess how sweet and domestic he was with you, compared to the ferocious lion he was when terrorising his rivals on the track. It is a very serious matter, schat, Max says indignantly. You’d let them get away with murder. I’m the only one who upholds any discipline in this household.

You stand on your tippy toes to kiss him lovingly on the cheek to appease him, batting your eyelashes innocently as you say sorry, baby, shall I make it up to you? and any annoyance Max had slips away as he pulls your petite frame against his much larger one to press a kiss to your lips instead. You two had been married for almost two years now, and dating for six before that, but you simply can’t get enough of each other - even now, as your innocent kiss deepens into a steamy make out session that has you panting and grinding against your husband’s thick thighs as he squeezes your plush ass with his large hands. You’re just about to ask him to carry you to the bedroom when your on-call phone rings, signalling an emergency at the hospital. Sorry, baby you say, apologising genuinely this time with a guilty look. I have to get this, go ahead and eat and I’ll make us some dinner when I’m back, ok?

Max reassures you that you have nothing to worry about, and that he’d make dinner of course, you’re going to be tired after sorting out an emergency. Your heart swells at how thoughtful he is of you and your busy career. You give him one last quick kiss before speeding out the door, scrubs on and barking orders over the phone already.

Admittedly, it hadn’t always been like this. When you had started dating, Max had been the considerably busier one - at the peak of his racing career and collecting multiple world championships as if it were child’s play. And the way you met was a classic dinner party story - F1 driver crashes his Ferrari into studious med student. It was hotly debated as to whether the fault lay with him for illegally going 80 in a 40 zone, or with you for walking with your nose buried in a textbook. Regardless, his insane reflexes had slammed on the brakes just in the nick of time to stop any real damage happening, but your textbook had gone flying in the air and straight on top of a passing truck, disappearing for good. You’d been devastated by the loss of it, more concerned with your upcoming final exam rather than any bodily harm, and as Max sprinted out from his car to worriedly ask if you were okay you’d whirled around angrily.

He was immediately struck with your natural beauty, with your pretty caramel skin and full lips and dark curls. Then he realized you were furiously pointing a finger at him and roasting his driving skills. Watch were you’re going! God, what is it with you boy racers speeding through the tiny side streets?

What?! Boy racer? Oh, Max was not going to let this grave insult slide, yelling back that he was a World-class driver, thank you, and you were the one who needs to watch where you’re going cause who reads and walks, that’s just dumb-

You cut him off, demanding to know who he worked for. Uber? Lyft? Monaco Taxi Incorporated? I’ll be sure to leave a scathing Google review, you said hotly.

Max had now realized you had absolutely no clue who he was, so basically he just looked like a complete dickhead - including to all the passerbys who gawked at the incriminating scene of the 6 foot Dutchman childishly arguing with a 5 foot, pouting girl. Deflating, he offers you his insurance information but you rolled your eyes and walked off, muttering about the goddamn Monaco elite in their Ferrari taxis.

He’d forgotten all about you until 6 months later, when he and Lando end up in the emergency department after a padel game gone wrong, only to find you pulling back the curtain - looking for Max, wait, Uber driver Max?! You’d narrowed your gorgeous doe eyes at him, then demanded to know if he was here cause he’d gotten in another hit and run. It was not a hit and run, that is an incredibly misleading statement, Max hissed, ignoring Lando’s goggle eyed stare, cause why on earth was his mate arguing with the pretty doctor who thought he drove for Uber and not F1 World Cup winning team Redbull-

The third time you had run into each other, at a charity ball where both your employers were sponsors, Max was convinced it was fate. Either that, or you were a crazy stalker. But he was, like, 98% sure it was fate as he felt his heart race at the sight of you in a fitted red silk dress and gold stilettos, your short frame still not even brushing his chin. This time round, you knew who he really was, and had an embarrassed flush on your pretty face as you said you know, you could have corrected me, it was a very awkward lunchbreak that day when the nurses starting asking if I’d gotten your signature.

He laughed, finding you adorable, and held out his hand for you to shake, grinning Let’s start over then, shall we? You’d easily returned the gesture, an undeniable spark running up both your arms as you touched. And a few months later, at the exact street where you first met, he pulled out a copy of your missing textbook that you excitedly took, laughing that he remembered only to gasp as you open it to see his messy scrawl - Thanks for not suing me, want to be my girlfriend instead of my victim? And the rest had been history, with you two now blissfully married years later.

Sure, you had your fair share of ups and downs, just like any couple did. Before your marriage, Max’s busy career meant that he was away more often than not, and although it helped that you had a busy life yourself, he knew you missed having him there at home after a long day or by your side at friends’ weddings where you’d have to attend solo. But you never complained, never asked for more because you understood that at this time of his life, his career would be first priority, and always supported him with diligently made meal preps, looking after his cats when he went away, and late night debriefs after arguments with his demanding father, your soothing voice helping calm down the burning anger in his chest.

And although you couldn’t attend every race like the other WAGs, you’d always do your very best to make it. He still grins when he remembers his last Monaco race, where you’d gotten held up in emergency surgery and had sprinted straight to the track, not having time to change into the Chanel outfit you’d sweetly picked out the night before (from a very large pile Max had generously insisted you fund with his black Amex). You’d made it just in time to see him cross the line in P1, and the pictures of you happily crying for his win as you jumped into his arms, still in your scrubs, long curls flying as he whirled you around went absolutely viral on social media. He was glad for it too, because you received so much online hate for not always being dressed like a model and by his side at every event - and knew that deep down, you felt guilty about it, even though it was such an unfair double standard. So he’d framed that famous shot of you and hung it in the entryway, so it would be the first thing everyone would see when they walk in, and understand why Max’s heart swelled with pure love and adoration whenever he looked at you.

So when he had gotten his fill with his eight - eight! - world championships and wanted to spend his Sunday mornings waking you up with his skilled tongue in between your soft thighs instead of on a racing track halfway across the world, he had promptly quit F1 - to the outrage of his father and thousands of fans - and stepped back to coach his own team instead. It was quite an accomplishment, you had thought amusedly when reading the headlines that year, to be known as the woman who had "seduced Max Verstappen to retire and become her trophy husband". Of course, Max stood for none of the media circus, retaining his infamous status as Mad Max when he openly shut down that storyline in a media statement that had blown up, making it clear that this had always been his plan and he would not be tolerating any slander of his beautiful wife whom he loved very much - who, by the way, was now the associate head of the emergency department, had they heard?

As time passed the fans eventually relaxed and enjoyed the new talent that came on, with your husband still a common figure on the paddock as coach. He'd had more time these past two years to look after you now - cooking your favourite meals and meeting you on the hospital rooftop for lunch and making all the nurses blush at how romantic your husband was, picking you up from a late shift in his Ferrari, taking you jewellery shopping in Paris one weekend then stiletto shopping in Milan the next with all your bags in his hands and his Amex in yours, and listening attentively in the living room as you practised your powerpoints on Intracranial Haemorrhage: Do early CAT scans change mortality rates? Your personal favourite gift, though, had to be when he'd brought home a 2 month old golden labrador as your birthday present. You'd always wanted a dog but had never had time for one on top of his two cats - but now, with Max home more often, he was able to look after all 3 of your kids, as you both affectionately referred to them.

And speaking of kids - the topic was something that had increasingly come up over the family events and meetups with friends you two went to. Of course, when it had first been asked, the two of you had dismissed it given there was simply no time with your careers. You religiously used contraception - with you on the pill and Max using condoms everytime. At one point, though, you both realised you rather enjoyed doing it raw - when the condom had broken after a particular rough session post 6th WDC win. Max still remembered your blushing face as he came down from what had been one of the most intense orgasms of his life, already addicted to the feeling of spilling inside you. You had bit your lip, shyly saying you know Maxie, the pill is 99% effective, I don't think we need to use condoms anymore-

He'd cut you off with a pleased growl, sealing his lips back onto yours for Round 2 as the thought of getting to fill you up every night sent all the blood rushing to his cock. Safe to say, there hadn't been a box of condoms in your home for a very long time. But as time passed after your marriage, Max started to feel an unfamiliar desire simmer in his gut everytime he saw you playing with his nieces and nephews, or when he would be showing Daniel's toddler how to operate a racekart, or when he’d finish inside you, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, and wonder what would happen if you weren’t on the pill. He avoided saying anything as your answer to the kids? question at Family Xmas was still not right now.

But lately he hadn't been able to deny the aching yearn he felt any longer, and especially not when you two had been celebrating Charles' and Alex's pregnancy announcement on their yacht last weekend. You'd looked so happy for the couple, congratulating Alex on her glow and admiring the ultrasound pictures but all Max could think about was how amazing he was sure you'd look carrying his child, how he wanted to have your baby scans on the fridge door and argue over names, how he was sure you would be the most amazing mother to his kids and he couldn’t have picked a better wife. He must have been looking quite jealously at the scene because Charles comes upto him, greeting him with a Hey, mate and a knowing smirk. Max grunts, sipping his G&T, then realises he might be acting in a way you would refer to as "dickhead behaviour", so he also throws in a gruff congratulations.

Charles' is not having it though, having recognised the intensity which Max was staring you down with. You know, he starts, prompting Max out of his one-way thoughts, You could always try bringing it up directly with her instead of expecting her to read your mind, hmm? Max glanced at him side ways. Already practising your fatherly advice? He joked, diffusing the tension, before the conversation moved onto how the new young F1 drivers just didn’t appreciate a good wheel to wheel battle like back in their karting days.

Charles' words stuck with him throughout the week, and one night as you both settled down for bed, he decided it was time to ask. Schatje? he begun, watching you from his position in the bed as you brushed out your damp curls in the mirror, dressed in a cute silk nightie. You hmmed at him, slightly distracted by a tangle in your hair but prompting him to continue. You know, I was, well -whatdoyouthinkaboutgettingpregnant?

You frowned slightly, still distracted by the tangle in your hair. Who, Alex and Charles? I think it's great, they've wanted kids for a while now, right?

Max takes a deep breath, tells himself to stop being a pussy, and walks over to you, taking the comb away as he brushes out the tangle himself. You look at him curiously as he tilts your head up with his large palm, brushing your cheek lovingly as his ice blue eyes meet yours. No, shcat he murmurs gently. I mean us, getting pregnant, having a baby. How do you feel about that?

Your jaw drops open at his words as your brain temporarily stopped working. You feel your face blush from the thought of your husband getting you pregnant. As hot as it sounded, out of all the things, you hadn't expected him to say that. You realise your surprised silence was making Max freak out, the telltale sign of a crinkle between his brows. You scramble to come up with a response, stuttering that Oh, sorry, I hadn't really thought about it, I guess and that we'd both been busy with work for so long it kind of...slipped my mind?

But what do you think, liefje, your husband pressed, hopeful. Do you want to try? You honestly weren't sure, this was all so sudden and you needed a bit more time to process it - but when you told Max this you didn't miss the hurt look that flashes across his face as his insecurities rise up. He asked if the problem was that you didn't want to have kids with him, because how could you possibly not have thought about it, all our friends and family constantly bring it up all the time-

I don't know! you'd responded defensively, arms crossed. We'd been focusing on your racing for so long that I just stopped thinking about stuff like that. The argument had spiralled out of control quickly, Max demanding to know when you were going to stop holding that over him, and when you wanted to think about it then, you two weren't any younger, after all - prompting you to angrily accuse him of always putting his job above yours, because now that he had his fill he was ready to start a family but what about your career?!

You hadn’t been able to stop the tears that dripped down your face as the argument escalated into a full blown fight. Max had sighed seeing that, deflating and saying you should both head to bed for now. You’d lain next to him, feeling so cold without his usual warm bicep pulling you against him, trying to hold back more tears before you drifted into a fitful sleep. Max hadn’t been any better either, only falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and when he woke up, you were already gone. He’d started trying to look for you but then remembered you had a conference in London today you’d had to fly out for - you wouldn’t be back for a week, he reads on the note you’d left on the fridge.

Fuck, it had been a bad night to have such an ugly fight considering you two had left so much unresolved. Later, when he’s visiting his sister’s for dinner and watching her kids with the same burning want in his heart, his mother corners him and demands to know why he had shown up looking like a kicked puppy. Your wife’s been gone one day and you’re already so hopeless? She’d joked, but clearly had a concerned look in her eyes. He couldn’t stop himself then, opening up about the horrible fight. He feels terrible that you had ended up crying, but still can’t help feel that you were being purposely selfish, he explains, after all, we’d be raising the baby together, she can still have her career, no?

His mother had been silent for a while, taking it all in, before she gently reminded Max about how she, too, had been in the peak of her very successful karting career when Jos had gotten her pregnant. Your wife isn’t me, and you certainly are not your father, she said firmly. But she’s scared, Max, it’s not personal. She’s scared she could lose everything she’s spent years building while you get to have it all. It isn’t as easy for a mother to put her career on hold as it is for a father. Even if he’s as loving and caring as you will be, she reassures.

Max looked troubled, then, as your responses last night now started to make sense. God, he was such a terrible husband, how had he not considered that before? Sensing her son’s brain was running at 100 miles a minute, the older woman lays a soothing hand on his shoulder. Just give her some space, Max. Let her come to you. You two will work through this.

So he gives you the space, and 6 days later he’s standing at the arrivals area of the airport, stonily looking out the window at the planes landing but internally fighting a storm of emotions. You two had never had these many days of no contact in your whole marriage, and he’d said some vicious things that night, and what if in the time away you had decided you would be better off without him? His jaw clenched at the idea of losing you. God, maybe he shouldn’t have given you space but spammed your phone, begging for forgiveness. Why was marriage so much more confusing than driving a car at 200kmph?

Suddenly, he hears the click of your familiar YSL heels walking up to him and he turns frantically to see your petite figure come to a stop a few feet away. Your face looks just as troubled as his, but as soon as your eyes meet you can’t control yourself and run forward to jump into his arms. Max welcomes you eagerly, all his tension releasing as he hugs you tightly, broad arms easily lifting you up and pressing his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume. You’re rapidly saying something about how you were so sorry, you had overreacted - You don’t have to apologise for anything, liefje, Max says fiercely, God, I missed you so, so much. I shouldn’t have brought it up so suddenly. Take all the time you need, okay?

You blink back happy tears, heart so full at your understanding husband as you looked up into his blue eyes adoringly before sharing a loving kiss. Passerbys smiled at the sweet scene you two made. Max took you home, one hand carrying your luggage and the other firmly around your waist, as if he was paranoid you were going to disappear. Again, in the car, his hand stayed glued to your thigh, softly stroking it as you told him about your week in London. And then at home, you had to stop him as he got ready to climb into the shower with you, giggling and saying you were starving, baby, did he want to grab some dinner for you two?

He’d pouted, but then perked up excitedly once you promised you two could go for a swim in the pool after dinner instead. Need anything else while I’m out, schat? He asked, grabbing the Ferrari keys. You hesitated, making him turn around, as you blushed a little and said Would you mind grabbing some condoms, Maxie? I forgot to take my pill to London so I haven’t been on anything for a week…

You search his face for any hint that he’s upset you still needed time, but found none, only a gentle expression on his face as he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. Of course, schatje, he says lovingly before heading out. You watch him go, a devious smirk now on your face. A part of you felt bad for the game that you were planning on playing with your husband later that evening - but, oh well, you had to have some fun in a marriage, right? And your sweet, darling, perfect husband had passed the test with flying colours tonight, showing his dedication to putting your needs first.

The truth was, you’d also reflected on your marriage and its future in London. You’d thought and thought until you could think no more about whether or not it was time to have kids, if you should even have kids, not because you didn’t want them but because you were so worried about how it would derail the career you’d worked so hard to build. And then you’d remembered how Max would spend hours quizzing you for your residency exams, while you were on the toilet or in the kitchen, making sure you got every answer right and you’d passed with full marks.

Or how you knew you loved Max for the first time, when he had stood by your side and steadied you as you shakily reported to your boss about a supervisor who’d developed a nasty habit of feeling you up at work and barring you from surgeries if you said no. Max had stood by you through it all, his large, gentle hands holding your own, a contrast to the thunderous expression on his face at anyone who tried to give you a hard time when you came forward - and he didn’t ease up until the creep had been permanently stripped of his medical license. Even now, when you’d sometimes shiver at the memory, he’d pull you into his safe arms, murmuring how proud he was of you, schat, you were so brave for speaking up.

You thought about how warm you’d felt seeing Max gently rock his nephew in his strong arms, or how impressed you had been seeing how he taught the kids how to drive a kart, or how devoted he was to your marriage and your three pets, always being there to provide for you and support you however you needed him to be - mentally, physically, emotionally. Max really was the best husband to you, and he’d be the best father to your kids. And you knew you had your answer.

So now, after eating your favourite dinner of Italian pasta, expensive red wine and tiramisu for dessert, you got changed into your bikini, a skimpy pink number Max always enjoyed, and slipped on a gold choker with matching anklets, all adorned with the letter M - a custom made Cartier set he’d brought for you on his birthday, as a gift to himself. The box of condoms he’d picked up lays on the bedside table. You smirk at them as you pass by - they won’t be needed much longer. Not that your husband had any clue of that - yet, and you couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face when he figured out just how you were going to reward his devotion tonight. Picking up a second bottle of wine, you take a good swig and make your way out to the dark backyard where Max is shirtless, the pool’s neon lights reflecting the water droplets that slide down his large, muscular back. Shit, you had to stay extra focused if he was going to be looking so delectable tonight!

He turns as he hears your anklets tinkle, smirking as he takes in your dolled up appearance, all for him. Coming in, schat? He calls huskily, feeling his cock hardening at the sight of you after a whole maddening week away. Just admiring the view, you say cheekily, taking another swig from the wine and slowly stepping into the pool. You can feel your husband’s hungry gaze sliding up your curvy body, and you shiver, feeling rather like a deer caught in a lion’s trap even though you were the one playing games tonight. You come to a stop in front of him, your head barely reaching his upper chest, giving him a generous view as your tits spilled around the tiny bikini. You sultrily gaze right into his darkening blue eyes as you take yet another sip of the wine, your pink tongue darting out to circle the tip of the bottle in quite the slutty manoeuvre. Missed you, Maxie you say coyly. Especially missed having you inside me.

He growls lowly at your teasing, easily taking the bottle off you and downing the rest before discarding it to the side. You whine as he puts a stop to your antics, pouty lips and large doe eyes staring up at him invitingly. Chuckling, he places a large palm across your ass and lifts you up against him. Your thighs wrap themselves around his toned waist and your hands tangle in his soft hair, gently tugging on the strands just the way he likes it. Now face to face, you tease him further, whispering in his ear about how lonely you’d been while away, how normally you’d call him and have him talk you through an orgasm, and how your tiny fingers hadn’t been able to make you cum all week because you needed his thick ones to stretch you open.

Fuckkk, schat, Max breathes, feeling his cock grow impossibly hard, his blue eyes completely darkened by lust. I missed that filthy little mouth of yours so much. He glides his thumb along your pink lips and you part them easily, taking him in and swirling your tongue around him. He can’t hold himself back any longer, pulling you in and replacing his thumb with his tongue. You moan into the dirty kiss, running your hands along his muscular shoulders, addicted to the feeling of his strong, thick biceps caging you against him. Your bikini strings are deftly untied as he practically rips it off of you, breaking the kiss to lean you back and suck on your pretty nipples. You squeal as he gently bites down, murmuring maybe you shouldn’t have been such a cocktease, schat.

You’re now grinding your pussy against his abs, begging him for more, please, Maxie and asking him to take you to bed. He smirks at how easily you fall apart under his tongue, squeezing your ass as he carries you inside, always giving you what you wanted like the devoted husband he is. You two have no regard for the sheets as you drip water all over them, foreplay long forgotten as your bikini bottoms are yanked off, followed by his trunks. You’d honestly forgotten about the damn condoms by this point but Max hadn’t, hurriedly ripping open a packet with his teeth as you whine at him to hurry up, Maxie, I can’t take it- Oh!

You moan blissfully as he buries himself inside you. Feels like coming home everytime, schat, he breathes out as he holds his position for a few beats before he starts thrusting into you. Holy shit, that felt sooo good. You didn’t think you were going to last very long at all - putting a time limit on your plan. You let him get a few more thrusts in you before you start begging again, this time asking Maxie, wait, can-can we please take the condom off?

He looks down at you in surprise, saying you hadn’t been on the pill this week schat, it’ll be risky-

Oh, your darling husband still hadn’t caught on to your suprise, and as you whine that it’s okay, you can just pull out, right Maxie? you almost giggle from the strained expression on his face as he considers that feat of self restraint. But he wasn’t going to say no to you, not when you were below him with your lush dark curls spread around you and looking up at him so adoringly, so he reaches down and pulls the condom off and sinks back inside you.

Shit. He swears at the vice grip you have his cock in, one hand automatically going to grasp the headboard to try and maintain some control and ground himself. But you’re begging for more and it feels so good to be back inside you, raw, feeling your slick heat up on his thick cock that his thrusts start getting sloppier. He’s panting above you, both hands now gripping the headboard to hold himself back from the urge to cum inside you.

Your devilish eyes don’t miss this, and you grab his thick wrists to pull them down so his hands rest on your bouncing tits, begging him to play with them, please. Oh, shit, he feels his orgasm quickly approaching from your positively filthy demands tonight. But as he starts to pull back you wrap your legs around him tightly, keeping him in place as you make your final demand - Noo, Maxie, don’t pull out, you can come inside me, it’s ok-

Perplexed, knowing he can break your grip around him in half a second, your husband is now very confused as he points out with gritted teeth that no condom and no pill and no pulling out meant-Yes, yes, I know! You whine impatiently. I want it Maxie, I’m ready now, come inside, I want to get pregnant!

Max pauses above you, this time being the one to have his brain function temporarily suspended as he slowly figures out just what you’re saying. Are you sure, schat-

You roll your eyes, sinking yourself down onto his cock, making him moan, and hoping he gets the message. Oh, I’m definitely sure, dear husband, you say sultrily. Now, are you going to fuck a baby into me or what?

He finally clicks, his confused gaze now morphing into pure joy as he grins down at you, and you can’t help but grin back, the two of you finally ready to progress into the next step of your marriage together. He pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, catching you off guard. You know I love you right, schat? He murmurs, and you nod, confused where he was taking this. Good, cause I’m about to fuck you like I hate you. That was a dirty game you played, yeah? Edging me all night when you were gonna let me fuck you raw all along. Gonna have to punish you real good for that. He growls darkly, his large hand coming to squeeze your throat, making you gasp in delight.

Oh, you loved when Mad Max came out to play. Your legs are tossed over his shoulders and then pressed all the way back against your soft tummy, into a mating press. The unfamiliar position has you screaming in pleasure, your anklets dangling by your face as he thrusts his way back into you. Your husband chuckles wickedly at your reaction, pumping into you deeply and making the headboard bang against the wall each time.

And true to his word, he punishes you thoroughly, not stopping despite your overstimulated pleas as you repeatedly orgasm, instead cumming inside you over and over and over again, leaving you obscenely full with his thick load.

And when you finally pass out into blissful darkness, he meanly fucks you awake again, demanding that you take another round from him like the good little wife you are, aren’t you, so obedient for me, hmm? Gonna fuck you stupid until you’re finally pregnant with my kids, like you always should have been.

Safe to say, you didn’t get much sleep that night, or for many nights after 💖

—————————————————————————

UPDATE: PART TWO out now!!

A/N: damn this is a whole ass essay. I love simp husband max so much tho I couldn’t help it 🥺might make a part 2 about the pregnancy and protective max hehe if people like this! Lmk what you think 🫶🫶

[fear-is-truth]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ ⭑ 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐰

⟢ tags — fem!reader﹒headcanons﹒domestic fluff﹒nsfw﹒mdni﹒smut﹒kinky rp﹒blasphemy

a/n: requested by… i’m pretty sure i remember who sent the req but not confident enough to @

you’ve mastered the art of meal prepping for him—chicken breasts, egg whites, protein shakes etc. he’ll sneak up to you from behind while you’re cooking, kissing the top of your head as a thank you.

his “controversial” youtube channel, where he films fitness and cycling classes, is something you secretly love to watch him record. you’ll often peek from the doorway as he’s filming, watching as he passionately leads the class, shirtless and full of energy, talking about strength and spirituality.

the two of you have a growing collection of houseplants that charlie swears he’s responsible for watering (even though you know you do most of it). he’s also been talking about getting a pet dog—and he gets excited just thinking about it.

you have a ritual of watching true crime documentaries in bed. he’d throw in some commentary during the episodes, pointing out details others would miss and making sarcastic remarks about the criminals’ poor decisions. you can tell he’s fascinated by the psychology of it all, even though some of his comments make you playfully swat his arm for being a bit too dark.

he’s dedicated to his morning jogs and always tries to convince you to join him, but on most days, you’re still in bed when he gets back, all sweaty and smug. he’ll kiss you awake like sleeping beauty and tell you that he’s already done your workout for you.

he’s super buff. strong enough to lift you effortlessly, and loves showing off. charlie would sweep you off your feet at random moments—like when you’re about to leave the house, or after a long day when he insists on carrying you to bed. he always jokes about how he’ll never get tired of it, no matter how many times you roll your eyes at his over-the-top gestures.

nsfw — mdni

after groundbreaking sex, you’ll be snuggled in bed, and suddenly, he’ll ask, “so, if you had to commit the perfect crime, how would you do it?” charlie loves watching you try to come up with a serious answer, and then he’ll one-up you with some morbid trivia or a clever solution.

one day he got his hands on a nun’s habit, and casually suggests you try it on. the whole thing was more than a bit blasphemous, considering his position, but you decided to humour him. as soon as you put it on, he was all over you.

confessing (in great detail) to him in the confessional booth about how you touched yourself when he’s not there.

christening your shared apartment by fucking you in every room, and on every available surface.

when you’ve ran out of surfaces, it extended to the church.

he has fucked you in the confessional booth at least once.

charlie has crazy stamina—partly because he works out and partly because he’s “blessed by god”.

you have a stash of homemade porn videos that you’ve filmed together.

talked you into wearing vibrating panties to mass. sitting in the front row for him to admire the tiny expressions in your face.

using holy anointing oil to give you full-body massages.

rehearsing his sermons while you cockwarm him.

charlie likes to leave the bathroom door slightly ajar when he’s taking a shower, knowing you’ll peek in. more than often, you join him, the sound of your clothes dropping to the floor muted by the running water. steam fogs up the bathroom as his hands find their way to your hips, pulling you under the water.

he’d scoop you up in his arms, pinning you securely between him and the wall. you’d cling onto charlie like a koala, wrapping your legs around his waist while kissing him, fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you back with equal fervour, him slipping his tongue past your lips and exploring your mouth lazily.

when he senses your impatience—the telltale tightening of your grip on his hair or the small whine that passed between your connected lips, he’d waste no time lining himself to your entrance and filling you with one deep thrust.

MLIST  fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[7567s]

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours, but I think that God has a sick sense of humour.

[alltheyoungmoons]

some thoughts:

-remus lupin loves the monty python (thanks to his mam) and can’t wait to catch up with the reruns of Flying Circus when he goes back to wales for the summer hols.

-he slowly indoctrinates the other marauders as well - james takes up an habit to repeat some punchlines over and over and over and over (and peter laughs every. single. time)

-in ‘79 when Life of Brian comes out he drags Sirius with him to see it. Sirius has come to appreciate the Python’s humour over the years through remus, though he doesn’t really like watching the TV (it’s such a boring activity). He has to admit that movie is really fucking funny, though. (Remus fills him in the religious jokes where he doesn’t understand them - wizards have some knowledge of christianity but haven’t been practicing for centuries)

-sirius is elated when he finds out that the movie has become controversial and considered blasphemous so he sets on reading the bible and the new testament for himself to actually appreciate the movie’s humor in full.

[industria-adastra]

[Genshin Impact] Time Trial #7

Summary: It was nice and all that the Iudex and Lady Furina had finally made up. The sudden new period of picture-perfect weather was truly much more suited for spring compared to the previous second coming of the prophesied flood. That being said, it would've been preferable not to be able to be an ear-witness to their attempts at both embodying the spirit of spring and their horrifically public honeymoon period.

Maybe he should've ordered some soundproofing earpieces from Sumeru. - TD;LR A short piece looking into the mind of a beleaguered Palais office worker on a Friday afternoon.

Pairing: Neuvillette/Furina

Note: I have a decidedly juvenile sense of humour. Please note that there is implied sexual content between nvfr in this fic (albeit mostly through terrible innuendos).

-----

As par the course with days like these, the sun shone bright and cheery, with nary a cloud in sight. With the accompaniment of a muffled, staccato thudding, Claude smacked the Autostamper 300 every so often with a stoic look. One by one, the papers were stamped in an excruciatingly slow fashion, inadvertently forcing him to listen to the music of creation. This duet was certainly more well-oiled than the hunk of scrap metal they called the Autostamper 3000. 

Flipping open his pocket watch, Claude noted—alongside the rising frequency of the thudding, much like the last six times—that it took about 10 stamped proposals for the Chief Justice’s (now weekly) office exercise to supposedly come to a close. Well, even if it wasn’t for this particular timed trial, it would be for Claude’s work day. 

With the same stoic look (that appeared increasingly similar to the blank-eyed stare of a medaka), Claude locked up the Autostamper. Just in time for the echo of a church bell to resound throughout the room. He supposed that’d be the new Friday lunch bell now. 

Shuffling the papers together and walking past the room where the Iudex finally discovered the joys of a healthy work-life balance (which was also his office), Claude placed all his completed work on Sedene’s desk. As he waited for her to finish checking all the papers, Claude debated the pros and cons of a proposal regarding the Palais Mermonia’s soundproofing. 

He wondered if it’d be blasphemous to indirectly comment on your ex-Archon’s healthy sex life. 

Perhaps it’d be better to simply propose a four-day workweek instead. Especially given his superior’s tendency for early celebrations of the weekend…  

Sedene’s voice cut into his thoughts, pulling him out of his musings. “Everything here seems to be in good order,” she said, paws deftly sorting the papers into particular groups. “I’ll make sure to notify the relevant departments about them on Monday.” At this point, it was clear that they both knew the lunch bell also signified the end of the work day for workers like him. 

He nodded, “Thanks, Sedene.” Muffled noises trickled from the Chief Justice’s office. The four-day workweek proposal was sounding more and more appealing at the moment. After a pause, Claude decided to ask Sedene for her opinion on a four-day workweek. After all, it was always good to get some alternative views on ideas before even attempting to create proposals based on them. It was also the better topic to ask her about, rather than something like, ‘Do you think Lady Furina and Iudex Neuvillette are attempting to create a sister race for the Melusines?’. That would’ve probably been prosecutable under one of the Acts relating to defamation law. And genuine blasphemy.

“Sedene.” He said, unknowingly taking out his pocket watch.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to ask…” Claude trailed off, absent-mindedly rubbing at the delicate filigree of his watch. “What are your thoughts on a four-day workweek?”

“A four-day workweek?” Cocking her head to the side, Sedene blinked at you with curiosity. “Well, that certainty sounds—”

Just as she was about to give her opinion, the Chief Justice’s office door swung open with a bang, cutting off Sedene. Instinct compelled them both to look at the source of the disturbance. Logic told Claude to continue pretending nothing happened. 

He ended up staring blankly at Lady Furina’s dishevelled figure for a good ten seconds—looking like she was wearing yesterday’s clothes with how rumpled they were—before turning his head back to look at Sedene. Just barely, he managed to avoid looking Lady Furina in the eyes. Had she caught him looking, he would’ve had to feign sudden blindness with his poor acting skills. 

In the back of his mind, Claude noted that her legs had been shaking ever so minutely, but asking if Lady Furina ‘needed a chair or anything’ would probably just add further embarrassment to an already embarrassing ordeal. Unlike the ex-Archon, he was not a master of social skills. He was also very satisfied with his job and wanted to keep the risk of losing it low, please and thank you very much.

It seemed like Sedene was of a similar opinion to him, as she had been staring expectantly at him. “Ah, sorry, as you were saying, Sedene?” Claude asked, ignoring the choked noise of surprise behind him.

“Well, as I was saying, I think a four-day workweek sounds quite interesting. An extended weekend sounds like it’d be quite nice to have, although I’m not sure what that’d do for the current work hours… But why the sudden ask? Is this a new proposal you want to file?” Sedene’s paws moved to pen down the idea as she said so, briefly looking away before she then continued to speak. “If so, I believe you’ll have to wait until Monday for the proper forms you need to do.” 

“No, no, not a proposal, just something I thought about at the moment,” Claude answered. “I was curious about your thoughts on it, since you’re the only other co-worker I can ask right now.” With gentle hands, he tossed his pocket watch from palm to palm. The singular source of noise only emphasised the lack of workers within this particular area of the Palais. “I thought it might help cultivate, ah, what to call it? A…more harmonious working environment. Mn, yes, those were the words I was looking for.” Tossing his pocket watch into his other palm for the final time, Claude gripped it tightly as his gaze darted over to Sedene’s scribbled note. He wondered why he hadn’t seemed to hear the echoing clicks of Lady Furina’s heels growing quieter as she moved toward the exit, as per the regular schedule. 

Then again, for all he knew, he could’ve simply gotten too used to filtering out any noises originating from his superiors, to the point where being willfully deaf to them was a passive skill of his.

Almost immediately, the Chief Justice’s voice appeared out of what seemed like nowhere, just to add weight to that hypothesis of his. “And in what way would you suggest a four-day workweek would help to facilitate a more harmonious workplace, Claude?” He asked, sincere curiosity evident in his tone.

Claude did not jump, shriek, or attempt to obtain a trip to Fortress Meropide via an offence of battery, but his hand did violently spasm around his watch. Quickly, Claude turned around to see Chief Justice Neuvillette, staring curiously at him and Sedene. A quick look to the left showed Lady Furina with a mortified expression on her face. An oddly heavy scent of seawater hung in the air. For someone with such a towering stature and wearing heeled shoes, he certainly knew how to make a surprising entrance to a conversation. Literally.

Or maybe he truly was going selectively deaf.

“Ah—” Very eloquent of him. 

As usual with social blunders like these, the Chief Justice’s verdict was swift, and no remedies were offered. He merely looked on expectantly, leaving Claude to flounder about and think of the best way to phrase something like, ‘Please just take Fridays off so I don’t have to hear the efforts involved in creating the miracle called life.’ Or ‘Your office is not as soundproof as you think,’ which was the real reason for his four-day workweek proposal. 

After an awkwardly long period of silence, where even Lady Furina didn’t offer any justice, Claude simply decided to say, “I…just think it might help promote a better work-life balance and workplace efficiency if there are more days to rest.” 

Yes, that would probably work, even though he, for one, did not have any data to back up the claim. To top off the steaming pile of complete and utter bullshit he just served—like some rancid egg on an equally rotten steak tartare—Claude was not a member of the Maison Gestionne.  For goodness sake, he was part of the Maison Ordalie, and lying to his direct superior due to the sheer embarrassment of the truth was not something he’d ever thought he’d do, nor ever wanted to do. In his mind, it seemed evident that this so-called “proposal” would only end with the Chief Justice outright dismissing it.

Not that he’d mind if he did, to be honest.

“Is that so?”

Somehow, against all odds, his provided “reason” seemed to work—Chief Justice Neuvillette now looked to be silently, and even seriously contemplating the idea. From the corner of his eye, he could see a relieved expression on Lady Furina’s face. 

However, that relief quickly turned into a steel-like determination. One that was possibly brought about by some minute expression or action from the Chief Justice that bode ill for everyone’s continued sanity. 

But with a determination to do what, Claude wasn’t sure. That said if it got rid of the awkward atmosphere hanging around like a bad smell, or like the weekly reminder that your rulers were cultivating a healthy appreciation of physical activities— (He forcefully stopped that train of thought for what seemed like the nth time today) 

Anyways, Lady Furina had always been a master of social interaction, and currently, more importantly, the one who knew the Chief Justice the best. If there was anyone who could get him to drop this evidently loaded situation, it would be her. With bated breath, he watched her step towards the Chief Justice.

Her steps were stiff and wooden, but Lady Furina didn’t stop for even a moment’s hesitation. Due to the speed at which she walked, she inevitably made short work of the distance between her and the Iudex. At that point, Claude had finally decided to emulate a cardboard standee—or customer service personnel.

“Neuvillette,” she called, bravely grabbing both his hand and his attention in one swift move. “Should we not go for lunch now? I feel positively famished, and I’m sure you’re hungry too. Besides, haven’t you previously lectured me on the importance of having scheduled mealtimes?” With a gently scolding tone, Lady Furina added, “It’s no good overworking yourself without taking breaks.” 

“While that may be true, I’m sure you, in turn, have lectured me before about the importance of properly ‘finishing up’ conversations with people.”

“Well, have you come to an opinion on this unofficial proposal?”

“It’s certainly one that could be pondered upon for a potential trial period. After all…” At that point, he’d bent down and whispered the rest of his words into Lady Furina’s ear. Meaning that Claude and possibly—hopefully—Sedene, didn’t hear any of it. Thankfully, that also meant that Claude didn’t need to either pretend or legitimately go deaf from a momentary period of legal insanity. 

Judging from the way Lady Furina’s face practically exploded into red, and the almost imperceptible quirk of the Iudex’s lips, Claude was rather assured of the implementation of the solution to all his current workplace problems.

“Ahem!” Lady Furina coughed into a gloved fist, looking as if she now found the carpet to be the most interesting thing in the room. “I… I also believe that it could be something worth trying out. After all, as I’ve said earlier, there’s no benefit in overworking oneself without breaks—which we should be taking right now, as I’ve also said. If there’s anything else you’d like to say, I’ll be waiting for you outside the Palais.” With that, she sharply turned her heels and practically fled.

The Iudex watched her go, before turning to Claude and Sedene to say, “Given the lull in recent workload, perhaps we could try it out in the coming weeks.” He smiled at Sedene, saying, “I hope you rest well during those times.” His attention then went back to the both of them as he said his goodbyes for the period. “I also hope you two have a restful break.” With that, he finally went away.

‘Well,’ thought Claude, watching him walk away whilst holding in a palpable sigh of relief, ‘I certainly won’t be missing having to do any more trials. Nor this particular lunch bell.’ With a resounding snap, he closed his pocket watch, already beginning to think of what he could do with a three-day weekend.

“Say, Sedene…”

“Yes?”

“What light novels have you been reading recently?”

[styona]

Copia: I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours...

Nihil to Sister: Told you, he's not part of the bloodline, see???

Copia: ...but I think that God's got a sick sense of humour.

Nihil: Never mind, that's my boy!

Sister: ...

Sister: You don't say...

[wahoo-wahey]

I DONT WANT TO START ANY BLASPHEMOUS RUMOURS BUT I THINK THAT GODS GOT A SICK SENSE OF HUMOUR AND WHEN I DIE I EXPECT TO FIND HIM LAUGHING 🔊🔊🔊

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ the grim reaper mercenary boss. ﹚:  zhào xīyáng 9819 .𖹭 ݁

. . . want his love & want his revenge !! 🍒 : “ cold hands now darling? we will have to fix that up, won’t we. ”

꒰ verse ꒱ 9819 

꒰ species ꒱ grim reaper

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ chinese

꒰ age ꒱ 34

꒰ gender ꒱ male

꒰ mbti ꒱ estp

꒰ alias ꒱ the bloodstained, stygian, the day orchid, leader of the garnet frost, blood in the snow.

꒰ story ꒱ 

crimson in white. blood in the snow.

such is what is known of the feared and respected mercenary boss of the garnet frost. known for sharp eyes and an icy exterior to match his snow motifs. silent to most, yet unafraid to spill his tongue in sarcasm and bluntness.

secretive, callous, it’s the reputation he’s built himself — one many other reapers frown upon, especially when his occupation is taken into regard.

a grim reaper and assassin, why, it’s almost blasphemous.

even members of the government council scoff.

alas, what can they do? he’s a fearsome ally so they might as well keep their lips shut. and he’ll continue his business as usual. serene and elegant despite the trail of blood he leaves behind.

 

꒰ appearance ꒱

long, straight white hair that goes down to waist

piercing maroon red eyes with slitted pupils, white lashes and brows

pale skin tone. slim facial structure with a mixture of sharp and soft features

6’6” with an a build that borders to athletic, very toned

rows of sharp teeth. typically wears a black, half mask on his lower face

talon-like nails

small amethysts on his fingertips, long slender hands, covered in silver and amethyst rings

amethyst crystal nails, riddled with silver rings and nail jewellery

at work he dons greys and blacks aesthetic combat clothes for better stealth and blending in with crowd. outside that, gentle creams and white robes with amethyst coloured touches to some of the sleeves and cuts, intricately designed.

sometimes wears a black bamboo hat with a veil hanging from it

lots of pouches around his his waist and curving down to his left hip, with bottles of flames inside of them along with powders and weapons.

two standard lobe piercings with amethyst and onyx

red makeup, dark red lipstick and dark eyeliner

 

꒰ personality ꒱

the silent type, rather intimidating, especially with the way that he speaks and his aloof presentation

he speaks rather dryly, and can be quite blunt. sarcasm galore and quite sharp-tongued

quite confident and not one to back down easily

deceptive, a very good liar. calculative and methodical. can even be a bit cunning

can be extremely stubborn and a bit hardheaded. he needs someone to put him in his place.

can be brutally honest and blunt to people he struggles to communicate with

flexible, good at adapting to new environments

workaholic, takes his work very seriously.

doesn’t mind bickering purely for the fun of it

very calm and serene once that hard shell washes off of him

really funny once you get to know him, lots of dry and sarcastic humour.

can get extremely jealous but tries to suppress it because he doesn’t like that side of him

might take him a second or two to catch onto a few drifts, specifically that of emotions

despite his dryness, he is a generous and kindhearted at soul.

very gentle with the people he holds dear

 

꒰ with a lover ꒱

 adores taking you out on dates. whether it be to restaurants, fancy or the ones that are loved by the city communities. just spoiling you in general gets him happy. he adores twirling you around the street after, hearing your laughs.

 takes you home to his mansion often and cuddles you up in the living room, wandering off to the kitchen to go prepare snacks for the two of you, along with any drink you’d like.

 he likes to sit down with you and trace patterns in the palms of your hands. lips roaming your knuckles each time you turn your hands over.

 really likes giving you massages and making sure all of the knots in your back loosing up, so that you feel refreshed and able to move freely. he gets very concerned about your physical wellbeing.

 at rare times, when he feels paranoid, he takes you with him to his work. leaving you there at the garnet frost syndicate. assuring his assassins all keep you safe, lest they want their next paycheck to be a bunch of dead rats.

sometimes takes you to the outer city. so that the two of you can stay by the forest and just relax there for a bit. don’t like the forest? no problem, he knows all sorts of places you could go if you’d like.

sometimes struggles to word how much he loves you and sits down to write small love notes and letters, his main love language is through cooking and acts of service. and gifting.

adores each and every part of you, and loves it when you snatch his clothes and dress up in them. he allows you, because one. you look adorable and two. it wards anyone who think they have a chance with you away.

whenever you return his dry humour, you have him on the floor. it’s not often one sees the assassin leader fall off the couch and clutch his stomach laughing from any little joke.

extremely gentle with you. sometimes through a little bit of a stern way with himself especially when it comes to getting you out of situations that he could’ve accidentally roped you into. but it’s never to make you sad

 

꒰ strengths ꒱

combat: highly skilled in combat. in several martial arts and fighting techniques

excellent stealth: extremely stealthy, one of his best traits

weapon proficiency: has a large weapon arsenal - highly skilled in numerous categories

the maroon sword: a bloodied sword conjured by his own form of blood magic. this sword can suck the blood away from his enemies slowly. however, this is an ability he can only use when he has collected enough blood already from other oppontments

boiling blood: should any of the opponments close to him have any sort of open wound on them, he can cast a spell that makes the blood boil physically momentarily, leaving them in a pained state for 2 minutes. this spell also exhausts him, so he does not use it often unless he is attempting to finish off an assassination or run.

soul-reaping: talisen has the ability to reap more than 500 souls and carry them on his scythe until he can send them away to the afterlife.

vapour teleportation: can shift his physical form into a dark vapour and can move at high speeds towards a different location.

dark vapor production: produces a dark vapour from his back and shoulders that can blind and disorientate enemies greatly.

hallucinative vapor production: similar to his dark vapour, however causes those that breathe it in to hallucinate; often multiple versions of him.

heightened senses: heightened senses of smell, sight, hearing, touch and taste.

enhanced bodily function: advanced strength, advanced speed and agility

 

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

general grim reaper weaknesses: such as extreme emotional attachment and d'akar

boiling blood: requires him to sacrifice his own blood

 

꒰ relationships ꒱

yuè mèng yáo: mother

zhào mùchén: father

zhào jìngyí: older brother

zhào hàoyú: older brother

zhào haitāo: younger twin brother

zhào yizé: younger brother

zhào yŭ xī: younger brother/sister/sibling

denara agyros: girlfriend

rishen herrera: indifferent

alessio agresta arias: work partner, close friend

shī jùn lái: enemy

shī tài: enemy

 

꒰ extra ꒱

he is the leader of the garnet frost syndicate, an assassin guild

the garnet frost is located on a large estate on water not too far off of the shore of elritea. it is, in fact, a hybrid airship 

he speaks chinese and english

he is learning greek as a surprise for denara.

he really, really, really, likes denara’s pet: meenu and treats him like he is his son.

he plays the húlúsī, is quite skilled at it actually.

[earhartsplane]

I am not trying to ruffle any feathers, but I have to say this before Season 2 comes out, so I can act smug when I’m right. Here is my number one prediction for Good Omens Season 2:

There won’t be a voice-over.

Now hang on. I know it’s a controversial opinion. Let me explain.

I have noticed that virtually every adaptation of Terry Pratchett’s books has some sort of voice over, either diagetic (like Going Postal, where it’s part of the framing device) or non-diagetic (Hogfather). And I get it ! If you’ve read any of the Discworld book and have this weird brain quirk where a part of you is always thinking about how this would translate on screen, you’ve probably noticed two things:

1. There’s visual humour in text form. How ? This man was a genius and a will be missed forever.

2. There’s so much that just can’t be translated on a purely visual level. The footnotes! Should we just leave the footnotes out ? They’re so great! They add so much to the world in general. There are running jokes that only appear in the footnotes ! Should we just accept that it won’t make it to screen ?

Yes. I’m sorry, but yes. Some things will be lost. Maybe you can integrate one of these jokes as recurring background events ? A lot of people are not going to notice though. There’s an expectation that the reader will read all of the words, while the viewer may not see all that’s happening on screen (although, to be fair, you will be noticing new puns on every re-read for years in the case of the Discworld).

(In comparison, adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s work are less prone to voice over. If I remember correctly, Coraline didn’t have one. Sandman starts with a bit of voice-over from the main character, but nothing more after that. I don’t remember any in American Gods. MirrorMask has left me nothing but the memory of a fever dream, so I can’t be sure. )

This is not to say that the voice-over in season one was pointless. It establishes the tone, to start with. If you remember, the opening narration is about the age of the Earth, in which we learn that it was created on the 21st of October, 4004 B.C., and therefore learn its star sign. It’s a good way to show that yes, there are angels in this, and demons, and the garden of Eden, and if you want to think too hard about this, they’ve got you covered. But if you think that these depictions are either blasphemous or religious propaganda, it might be a good time to learn to take a step back (and a joke, in my personal opinion).

But there are definitely instances of narration that would never have happened if season 1 wasn’t a book adaptation. I am thoroughly convinced that Dog’s experimentation with chasing and being chased by cats would have been screen only. Maybe a scene. Maybe something happening in he background. Who knows.

And here’s the thing. Season 2 isn’t the adaptation of a novel. I remember a tweet by Neil Gaiman about how he and Pratchett had a sequel plotted out, but even that isn’t season 2. According to the same, tweet, Season 2 is how we get there.

My number 2 prediction is that there will be a an intense heist scene during which Sadie and Dottie both try to steal some incriminating letters unbeknownst to each other.

[spiteslucanis]

tag game! choose some of your favourite lyrics and list them below

tagged by @ronandreams tysm dear!

i have a master doc of my fave lyrics of all time that's currently about 28 pages long so uhhh i cherry picked some absolute faves AND recent faves to put here <3 i also have a separate tag where i occasionally post about lyrics that make me particularly insane

tagging (no pressure as always) @zhalar @scarymovies @gayvampirate @miwtual @greensaplinggrace @mykinkiskarmas @daenerys-targaryen @queencalanthes @kazzsbrekker @the-maidofmischief + anyone who sees this and wants to! just say i tagged you

all time faves

new order, "true faith"

I used to think that the day would never come I'd see delight in the shade of the morning sun My morning sun is the drug that brings me near To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear I used to think that the day would never come That my life would depend on the morning sun

pet shop boys, "this must be the place i waited years to leave"

I'm listening to the words I thought I'd never hear again A litany of saints and other ordinary men

mika, "good guys"

If we are all in the gutter, it doesn't change who we are 'Cause some of us in the gutter are looking up at the stars

orville peck, "nothing fades like the light"

Time goes by, I wanna rise up And I know why things change And I know why I stay the same And I know everything must die But nothing fades like the light

the amazing devil, "inkpot gods" (so many TAD ones to choose from but i picked this since i have a whole ass tattoo of it)

And what you hear is not silence It's just the trees waiting to hear what next you'll hum And what you see is not the dark It's just the gods upturning ink pots 'cause they know what you'll become

camel, "west berlin"

And I'm looking out over West Berlin Feeling freer now than I've ever been When the sun sets over West Berlin I'll be leaving, I can't come back again

metteson, "second heart"

Why do I let my lips touch lips impure, like I've never seen a fire before? Why do I always have to burn before I learn how to let you go? Why do I rush to lay myself down bare, like I have a second heart to spare? Why do I always have to burn before I learn how to let you go?

and a few new/recent faves

metteson, "naturally"

It must be easy to notice It must be obvious Like a meteor coming Not some flicker of dust It must be something frightening But still a dream like the open sea Some people struck by lightning But nothing comes natural to me Nothing comes naturally

ethel cain, "sun bleached flies"

What I wouldn't give to be in Church this Sunday Listening to the choir, so heartfelt, all singing God loves you, but not enough to save you So, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself

taylor swift, "who's afraid of little old me?"

So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street Crash the party like a record scratch as I scream "Who's afraid of little old me?" I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean "Don't you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth"

depeche mode, "blasphemous rumours"

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours But I think that God's got a sick sense of humour And when I die, I expect to find him laughing

[ficsonpost-its]

so how bad was the whiplash you got going from supernatural to good omens?

insane, actually, but in a funny way.

i mean first of all both shows tickle my sense of humour but good omens is obviously far more light hearted than supernatural at least from my perspective. also it's british so its no wonder i got the humour much more

the different ways to pronounce "crowley/crowly" was probably the thing that i had to wrap my head around the most but honestly it is so small it didn't take me long to stop mentally pronouncing it the supernatural way

also david tennant??? i love him as this character but, like supernatural, my most favourite character in this show is the classic car. you'll find me having more of a lady's hard-on for classic cars than people on this blog

do not get me started on the fact there is an angel called metatron, actually. poor @reverse-anon-333 had to listen to me laugh and make probably blasphemous jokes several times while watching supernatural but she's an absolute trooper. currently cannot remember if there is one in good omens bc my memory is shitter than that of a fish, so someone remind me

also pookie's a follower of the bible so naturally i went to her with all my "does this character exist in the most famous fanfiction ever written" questions and some she couldn't answer so boo to her (im joking i love her sm) but honestly, metatron??? probably the most modern name ever. go him i guess??

anyway i'm getting side-tracked.

the whiplash was minimal but the tonal shift going from supernatural to good omens was needed. i'm just glad there's another car to go "oooo prettyyyy" over. after this i'll be watching "the boys" so i'll probably make a post about that within like a fortnight