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servicpop · 3 days ago

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nude beach adrien ( deliquent oc ) x ftm reader

ⓘ⠀reader has top surgery , use of cunt & pussy , fingering , public ( on beach )

Tans, seashells, crisp soda and icecream, perfect for a hot sunny day.

It was an idea pitched by one of your friends to hold a class beach day, and as the student president, you agreed and began to plan. The message you sent into the class group chat was bombarded with positive replies the moment you mentioned the word 'beach.' It seemed like alot of your classmates either wanted to escape studying or needed a break to cool off.

A familiar icon popped up underneath your message, Adrien's, but he didn't reply so you just guessed he would skip this event out too.

Stuffed in a car with all your friends, you allocated each friend to bring different things like drinks, food, beach balls and towels. You were in charge of packing the beach umbrellas and foldable chairs.

It was about a 3 hour trip to a beach nearby; one that wouldn't be bombarded with little children and an abundance of people.

When you got there with your friends — a little earlier than the set time — you took the initiative to start helping out with things and putting down your chairs and umbrellas. As you're hauling out the items from the trunk, you could faintly hear the raspy sound of someone calling out.

“Adrien, give me a hand here!” Your head instinctively turns to meet eyes with that stupid deliquent who seems to always show up wherever you are.

He was unusually early, perhaps earlier than you.

Adrien shoots you a toothy smirk before turning back to his buddy, helping the guy lift a cooler filled with sodas and probably beer as well. You shrug him off with a small scoff, rolling your eyes before going back to set up your things

You've successfully put up an umbrella and a deck chair away from the water, letting your body relax on the chair.

You weren't even planning on swimming today but you brought a shirt and some swim shorts just in case you wanted to just dip your feet into the icy water and feel the waves crash against your knees.

Staring out to the shore you watch as your friends run into the water, splashing and kicking sand up st eachother. You would join but, swimming wasn't something you particularly liked, especially the feeling of your wet swimsuit sticking to your skin.

“What are you doing all alone, prez?” His voice comes out smooth and almost tantalizing as a hand slides over your shoulder. You flinch harshly, whipping your head around to see Adrien in his full glory, shirt off, slightly damp hair and crystal clear water droplets gliding down the curves of his muscles.

Before you could say anything, Adrien pulls up another chair and slides it right beside you. The wooden bits of the deck chair clink together and he lowers himself on it with a small sigh of relief.

“The boys are playing like gladiators out there, felt like I was gonna die,” He laughs and you see his chest stutter as he does. He lets his head rest on his hand, elbow jutted out as he turns to face you.

“But really, why aren't you swimming? I'd love to see you shirtless and wet.” You roll your eyes and scoff, shaking your head as you stretch out your legs.

“I just don't feel like it,” You hum nonchalantly which earns a breathless laugh from Adrien. He places a hand on your stomach, inching closer to you. His fingers lightly drum on your stomach, earning that slight hollow sound.

He flicks your shirt up and burrows his hand underneath it, making a slow ascend to your chest, tracing over the raised lines underneath it.

“They're healed enough,” he points out, “Just let me see them.”

Your eyes quickly dart around, making sure that no one is watching. The beach stretches out quite far so the majority of the people were situated towards the middle with you and Adrien being in a more empty area.

You don't fight it, you just look away as he pulls up the shirt to your chin. The cool ocean breeze hits your bare chest, pulling out a view shivers from you. Adrien has seen your scars, multiple times but its always a surprise to see how his eyes soften and how he caresses them so delicately.

“Y'know people won't care if you just swim shirtless, you're a dude it doesn't matter,” He's leaning his head over to kiss your scars in which you push his face away. He laughs and moves his hands back down to rest on your lower stomach.

“You should get out of here before anyone sees you talking with me,” You manage to breathe out, moving your hand to his, attempting to pry them off your exposed skin. Being in such an open area with all your classmates undoubtedly gets you anxious, especially considering how long you've kept your relationship with Adrien a secret.

“Why? People can't handle me spending time with my boyfriend?” It just rolls off his tongue the way he claims you're his — even when you're not.

You're about to retaliate, about to shout whatever insult that comes to mind but you feel his hand move down to cup your crotch. Your body jerks at the touch and you shoot him a glare but he returns it with a sly smile.

“You're not my boyfriend,” you manage to force the words out your throat.

“Yeah but can any guy make you feel like this?” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts, pushing pressure onto your cunt. You can't help the curses that flow from your lips and the fact that you're arching your back into his hands.

“They don't know how to treat you right, only I can,” You can hear the jealousy drip off his tone like honey on a stick: thick and sickly sweet.

His fingers are brought back up and now he's pulling at your waistband, dipping his fingers underneath your shorts. His hand just glides over the smooth expanse of your pelvis, dipping down to your sweet, slick sex. Adrien starts by parting your folds with his index and his ring finger, skimming his middle over your fluttering hole.

You're so wet he can hear every movement his finger makes on you.

His thumb finds your clit, pushing the tip of it against that bundle of nerves. He's massaging circles on it, punching out a loud whine from your throat.

“Shit cutie, you're sensitive there?” He laughs, moving his hand lower so he could press his palm against it. Your little mewls and the way you grip onto the side of the chair so tightly makes Adrien want to rip your clothes off and fuck the daylights out of you, but he can't, he'll get caught almost instantly.

His fingers finally meet your hole, pushing in one finger slowly. You gasp, hips rolling up to grind your clit against his palm as he stuffs his finger into you. Adrien laughs again like he's having fun drawing all these reactions out of you.

Your warm, gummy walls hug his finger so snugly he has to slip in another one just to loosen you up a bit. He groans, driving his middle and ring finger into you. Everytime he pulls them back and slams them in your legs tremble and that obscene wet noise rings through his head like the aftermath of a drug.

“You like that prez? Such a good boy f'me aren't you?” Adrien bites his own, chapped lips, repeatedly ramming his fingers into you, watching as you laid your head back and let the moans spill out from your parted lips. The moment he starts curling his fingers up your body tenses and you absent-mindedly grab onto his forearm.

You're seeing stars with the way he's hitting your G-spot every single time he drives his fingers deeper into you.

“Fuck— ah– Adrien,” You cry out, moving your hand down to push down on his, encouraging him to put more pressure on your pussy. He gladly obliges, moving his fingers faster and pushing his palm against your clit with more force than before.

The familiar feeling of a knot wells up in the pit of your stomach and you know you're about to cum.

“C'mon, that's it.” Adrien can tell you're close from the quivering of your knees and the way sweat trickles down your forehead. He kisses the salt away before groaning as he feels his fingers get soaked from your orgasm.

He pumps his fingers slowly, letting you ride out your high before stopping completely.

“Shit, let me eat you out next tim—”

“Stop talking.”

doctors note ; hope i did alright for my first time writing for ftm reader T T

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #oc x male reader #x bottom male reader #mlm nsft #mlm ns/fw #ftm reader #x ftm reader #trans reader #transmasc reader #afab reader

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mac-tirs · 3 months ago

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the not-insignificant differences between the omen twins

so, i saw this picture posted by @amanaci which inspired me to write this rather lengthy piece on the contrasts between morgott and mohg. i decided that, instead of dumping this whole think-piece on their post, i'd make my own separate post and ramble here.

this difference in their height really tracks for how their fighting styles and personalities are like, i feel. i always found it peculiar how different they are despite being twins; i feel like there's a rather stark resemblance between miquella and malenia in their soft-faced features, pale skin, and long flowing hair, and a close resemblance between the carian siblings with their red hair, but morgott and mohg are rather different from each other, only bearing similarities due to their omen nature. i looked a little bit into that and found that there's pretty good reasons behind why.

firstly, morgott is severely malnourished and unhealthy in comparison to mohg. you can see it in his body and how his skin sags, how his ribs and bones show, and how dry it looks. below is a comparison between his hands and mohg's hands.

morgott's hands are dry, almost rubbed red and raw around the knuckles and fingers. it reminds me a little of psoriasis, or some kind of skin discolouration caused by his poor health. it's likely he isn't eating well, or at the very least, he isn't eating as well as mohg. his twin, on the other hand (ha!), has shiny, veiny skin with a healthy colour and gleam to them. it's like he wants to call to attention how well moisturised he is (which, in this case, compared to morgott, he is).

above is a comparison between the twins' horns. the difference is extremely evident to me; morgott's horns are dry, almost seeming brittle, like sun-dried bone that hasn't seen rain or moisture in years. it reminds me of the horns of a very neglected ram, almost, but despite that, the horn growths seem more controlled, less like the wild growths all over the royal omens of the shunning grounds and more controlled as a sort of jutting crown from mainly one side of his head. meanwhile, mohg's horns are shiny, curling wildly to the point of injury, taking his eye in its path of growth. they grew wildly enough to replace his hair altogether, if he ever had any, and give him an even more imposing silhouette with a literal crown of horns (and a beard to boot). beyond this, his horns look healthy, with clearly defined rings to each growth that shine under the light, much like the rest of him. he's oiled leather to morgott's dry hide.

another somewhat interesting detail of morgott is his tail. i know a lot of people see it as soft, and it certainly looks the part, but what i find interesting are two things: the first being that his fur looks quite matted in some lightings and angles but overall looks soft to the touch, and the second being that his tail's horns look much healthier than his own horns on his head. this is in clear contrast to the rest of his body, which looks dry and unassuming with smatterings of coarse white hair up and down his body, and i believe its a matter of the limits to his own self-care. he utilises his tail as another weapon in his arsenal, so he cares for it that it might serve him well in battle, unlike his head of horns, which only serve as a detriment to him with how they must obscure some of his vision, if not most of it. additionally, he likely could bear to look at his tail and care for it, but for an omen that hates his nature more than the average, he probably doesn't enjoy looking at his own face in the mirror enough to properly care for himself.

which brings me back to the sheer differences between these two. morgott, unhealthy and self-loathing, neglects many visual aspects of himself likely because he sees vanity as a luxury not afforded to someone like him. mohg, healthy and self-obsessed, cares and grooms himself to appear very much so like the lord he claims to be, loving himself to a heretical extreme (in the eyes of the golden order). their statures reflect this too; morgott hunches low to the ground, ready to pounce at any given moment but also due to his own shame and humility, while mohg stands tall and proud, though not as tall as he could possibly be due to his upbringing being one of likely having to hunch low to fit beneath the ceilings of the smaller parts of the shunning grounds.

above is a picture of an omen from stormveil, which bears resemblance to all the omen you see in the game. in terms of clothing, one of the big ways people set the omen twins apart, morgott is completely naked save for the ragged cloak of animal hides he wears, signifying he is not fit to even dress himself in a shirt or trousers as befits a king, much like the omen pictured. he wears even less than that, actually, since he lacks even the slightest adornment save for the rope that clasps his cloak together. on the other hand, mohg is entirely adorned in finery, wearing a beautifully embroidered, fashionable priest's robe with matching vestments, and beneath that (as seen in the first image) some underclothes, a plain black button up and some pants. mohg's entire silhouette changes with the removal of his robe, while morgott's barely makes an impact once you realise he has only taken off the one article of clothing he had.

then, of course, there are their fighting styles. there's this fantastic video on youtube that i recommend watching of the twins fighting every major boss in the game, and you can clearly tell them apart from their fighting styles alone. morgott is fast, his size making him look deceptively slow only for him to dart out and do sick flips and somersaults and pirouettes that rival even the most flexible dancers, and he fights with speed and almost animalistic ferocity, save for when he conjures his weapon incantations. mohg is slow but strong, capable of swinging that large trident around like it weighs nothing while hitting with the force to knock down most enemies in a few hits, and most tarnished in just one, but he fights with a steady gracefulness in his every move, walking slowly and carefully while casting spells that hurt a lot.

even their phase 2 transitions are markedly different, with morgott's being one where he drops to his knees, vomits, and releases his cursed blood(?) all over the battlefield, causing his weapon to become alight with his curse and for him to fight with more in-your-face aggression, and with mohg's being one where he simply ignores your attacks and begins stabbing his spear into the formless mother for power at your expense, gaining a majestic set of wings that put distance between you and him so he can cast more of his spells at safer distances. where morgott is pushed to his limit and forced to confront his nature, mohg has long since embraced it and enjoys the fruits of his bloody labour with the mother of truth's blessing.

speaking of the mother of truth, even their patron orders are at odds with each other. the golden order was built upon the foundation of a very carefully-guarded lie: that marika is the one true god, which she can't be, with the existence of radagon (as per goldmask, perhaps the number 1 fundamentalist we meet in game). the formless mother is known also as the mother of truth, existing in direct opposition of the golden order's lies and craving the honesty of one of the purest expressions of life: blood. these two ideals would war against each other, with one being dedicated to the upholding of a beautiful, corrupt lie and the other being dedicated to the instillation of a dynasty of raw, pure truths. as such, even morgott and mohg's own great runes reflect these contrasts in faith, though, remarkably, these two great runes are ones that fit perfectly over each other, with mohg's slightly elevated (seen below, taken from the fextralife wiki).

so, where does this leave us? i don't know, exactly. i wasn't really writing this with any sort of ultimate conclusion. i just found it really interesting how different they were, and i wanted to talk about all the noticeable, significant differences between them here. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#elden ring #elden ring rambles #elden ring lore #omenboys #morgott the omen king #margit the fell omen #mohg lord of blood #mohg the omen #i hope this whole thing makes sense

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reshinless · 2 months ago

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Been seeing alot of spiderman Kinich content on the clock app and this gave me an idea

Reader gets gwen stacy'd and kinich fails to save them lol then he wakes up and then they bang

──── through the phone mask

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. before he goes, how about a peck, yeah through his mask!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. spiderman!kinich x gn!afab!reader (this will end up in smut, so !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!) angst + comfort (in a way?? death mention but no actual death happens! just a bad dream)

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. oooo i could not stop thinking about this during class!!

"mwa!" you cheer- briefly backing away as you admire you boyfriend, kinich, that puts his mask on. you pray that this spiderman stuff didn't pressure him at all.

"mmm... one more?" as he turned around to face you again. you chuckled as you tilted your head, stepping closer to the window sill he crouched on. "one more? i think you've had enough for today." a teasing tone present in you sonorously.

he gave you a pleading look in hopes to earn accolade (in which this case is a kiss. or two. or three.) you could giggle, feeling the way he still tried to kiss you through the mask he wore, concealing his identity to all, except you of course.

"mmmwa!" you brush your lips against the fabric that kept all of this a secret. you were so pretty when you smiled. he likes that little dimple that appears on your cheek when you grinned- or maybe the mole on your neck right there. mmmaybe he should count them soon.

but when there's a moment where kinich saves everyone but you, he'd never forgive himself. when there's a moment where kinich can catch everyone when they're falling but you. when there are gonna be moments that only star him, and missing you. like how a seed would long for a soil bed, or how the moonlight doesn't shine without its sun.

he was terrified of losing someone as precious as you were. for as long as you both lived, he wanted to spend as much time with you. his love language was all about spending time with you, and doing things for you, he knew you could handle yourself, but he loves knowing you rely on him for a few things (even if they're simple). so losing you would be losing a huge part of himself.

in all the years you both got to spend together, you spent it along side your best wingwoman; mualani. growing up by both of your sides, he never felt alone, or unneeded. he felt everything was finally coming together.

so when he saw the scene before him- it was you. being stabbed in the stomach by a spike below the now-broken bridge. even in death you were so pretty. your head was laid down on his lap, barely opening your eyes, just enough to let a few tears trickle down the softness of your cheeks.

"i'm.. sorry i couldn't do enough for you." were the words you whispered, holding his cheek before finally passing on to the next world.

no he couldn't handle the scene at all. and only now is when he realizes- he should spend more time. he'll make sure you won't feel like that when he meets you again. he knows he'll recognize you. he'd know you from anywhere, anytime, any appearance, anywho.

kinich wakes up in tears, clear tear stains on the place he rest his face into. your pjs have small marks, drops of tears where they'd landed off his face. your eyes flutter open a few seconds later, realizing he's no longer in your arms.

"kin? wh.. what's wrong? why are you crying?" you immediately got up to wipe the small sobs off his cheeks. "..you're still here.. thank god, you're still here." he suddenly hugs you, fitting his head into your nape. his hold was tight, and affectionate. enough to know that he's happy that you're still present.

"yeah, i'd never leave. was.. was it a dream?" you asked, massaging his scalp to soothe his stress. he could only hum in response, he felt a little pathetic to admit that he was, but it was the first step to accepting it.

"do.. you ever feel like i'm mistreating you?" his head popped up from the spot it was previously. "what? no you're not. in fact, i feel like i'm not doing enough for you, baby." you chuckle, shifting your head to front him a little better.

"you've done more than you think for me." his hand held a soft grasp on your palm, you could feel a few scars on his hand. "really? i find it hard to believe." you let out a giggle, certainly a superhero who does things to make sure the city is a safe place for all, feels like you do more? that was in your point of view anyway.

"may.. i show you how much i can repay you then? i want to show you.. i want you to feel how thankful i am that you're here."

whatever it was in that dream of his definitely helped yours come true. "mmm, someone's ahhn- enjoying, ngh themselves.." he grunted out, hitting you from behind so good, you can't do anything but sit there and take it.

you could feel every little ridge on his dick, the sweat emitting from your body, combined with the drops spouting from the pores of his palms. damn you couldn't even hold your own moans back in courtesy for the people in the next dorm. "mmmffffuckkk.. s'good kin.." you whined, you shut your eyes in ectasy

he throws his head back, groaning at the sight of your plush ass barely swallowing his shaft each time. every shlick only made you even wetter. you could feel his length twitching inside you, each time he hit your very core.

your folds felt so insanely good, wrapping around the base of his dick so well, even inside you it felt so warm. the way you were basically getting stretched out, it reached even further into you, in his observation seeing how your eyebrows knitted- he assumed you liked it like that, kissing your insides!

he slowed the pace of his sloppy thrusts briefly to reach over for the phone on the nightstand. "you mind if we take a photo, pretty? love the way you look right now, 'd hate to miss such a face."

he'd be too busy admiring your face to realize how long he'd been grinding against your precious spot. he knew exactly how to make you use the expressions he wanted.

kissing your neck hungrily, making sure you face the camera as it recorded, letting it see all of you.

watching how your body reacted to his so well, he couldn't help but coo into your ear about how good you were doing.

"such a pretty kitty, mmm? and they're all mine aren't they? he continued, on the edge of the bed- making sure you see yourself in the mirror in front of you.

"this is what i admire everyday. hnnn.. s'tight, fffuck.." he groaned into you, letting you sit on his dick, riding it while watching his reaction through the mirror.

you couldn't help but piston your hips repeatedly, you were already so wet, might as well put it to use!

he held your hand throughout everything, squeezing it every now and then to indirectly ask if you're doing okay. kissing down from your nape to your shoulder blades, you were perfect from the ground till your ears.

for what seemed like the umpteenth time, he cums inside you. warm seed shoots up into your body, creaming on his cock at the same time.

kinich who holds you by the waist, feeling his cock slowly soften inside you. still trying to catch his breath- but still makes an effort to kiss your cheek.

still makes an effort to carry your trembling body to the bathroom. still makes an effort to clean you up. still makes an effort to eat you out slowly afterwards.

he who already misses you while you were still in the room. he couldn't help but cuddle with you for a bit before going out again. it was sunday already anyway, and he spent the moments where the sun rose elsewhere (eating you out/giving bj)

kinich who loved the idea of making out with you right after, still having to go out since you both spent the whole night.. intimately. half of his mask is still on but all you do is lift it up a little, enough for his lips to be visible enough for you to peck.

he makes sure you're sound asleep before he goes, he'll be back before you know it anyway.

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spookysteddie · 10 months ago

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That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it.

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees.

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted.

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous.

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!”

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?”

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.”

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers.

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.”

…

You should’ve changed your mind.

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you.

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time.

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face.

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands.

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long.

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it.

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-”

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.”

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!”

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels.

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?”

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus.

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus.

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually.

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts.

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that. The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs.

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.”

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you.

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.”

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?”

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was.

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.”

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?”

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen.

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke.

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again.

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet.

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening.

Photos are fine.

Everyone must be tagged.

Nothing negative.

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar.

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines.

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?”

You nod, “y-yeah of course.”

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over.

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer.

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.”

…

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more.

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason.

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.”

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something?

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes.

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there!

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.”

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured.

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.”

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not?

“‘Precious babies?’”

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.”

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne.

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him.

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan.

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.”

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.”

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close.

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.”

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?”

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.”

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?”

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.”

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent.

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…”

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?”

So, you do.

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name.

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times.

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos.

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music.

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.”

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care.

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back.

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him.

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him.

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.”

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you.

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes.

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.”

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?”

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.”

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top.

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you.

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right?

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center.

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone.

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid.

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.”

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans.

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No.

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.” He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers.

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?”

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous.

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.”

“V-very.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!”

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.”

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.”

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.”

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft”

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it.

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.”

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?”

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.”

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.”

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?”

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it.

“Oh god! Please.”

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.”

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down.

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.”

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’

“And now… we wait.”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #modern!rockerstar!eddie munson x influencer!fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

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sunshine-jesse · 1 year ago

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Control: The Strange Dynamics of Andy and Leyley or

The Incest End Is Not The Fucking Bad End, Stop Coping

EDIT:

Hey guys! This post is blowing the fuck up, but this was my first essay on this game, and I think I've had many more insightful things to say since then. Here's a link to a masterpost with all of my essays, which I'd definitely suggest reading after this one:

Anyways, without further adieu...

I heard a lot about this game going in. I knew the general story beats and the funny haha incest memes. I knew it was about a toxic codependent relationship where Ashley, the sister, acted like your standard overly-controlling person who used various abuse techniques to keep someone in line. I expected Ashley to be a yandere-type character where she was borderline psychotic, irrational, and had a skewed perception of reality. I expected her to be a crazy bitch, and I love me some crazy bitches.

But then I actually played through the game. ...That is not what I got.

The game advertises Andrew as a doormat extraordinaire who is strung along by his Very Not Good sister and has no agency of his own' that he's just a henpecked abuse victim. But in practice, that doesn't seem to be the case. One of their first exchanges that in the story is when the occultist played his music and Ashley wanted them to check it out. He says 'no', sure, but then he smirks and says 'but I'll come along if you do.'

That is not the dialogue of someone who has no will of their own, that's the dialogue of someone who willingly gives up their own agency.

This is not, on its own, a sign of anything out of the ordinary. What caught my attention with it, though, is how it flew in the face of the common narrative surrounding their relationship dynamic. But that's not the first time I noticed it, it's just the first time, in retrospect, that their actual dynamic begins to show. The first time I personally noticed it is in the choking scene.

There are a lot of ways to view this situation. But my own reading? This was not a crime of passion. This was not him trying to break free. This is him doing something he's thought about for a while. This is premeditated. In this scene, Andrew is done playing along with Ashley's shit. In this scene, I firmly believe Ashley is the victim.

Ashley is the more openly abusive of the two who seeks to do whatever she can to trap Andrew so he'll never leave her. That much is clear. But Andrew-

-clearly has these same tendencies. He says this shortly after Ashley mentions putting her name up on a call girl's wall for money. There's protective brotherly instincts, and then there's this. This is not something you'd threaten a sister with, this is something that a man would threaten his wife with, which is directly brought attention to in the story.

(hey look he accepts the framing of it being WIFE beating at face value, and says Ashley is the only one who makes him like that! HMMMMMMMMMM WONDER WHAT THAT IMPLIES???)

It also implies that this is not the first time physical force has been threatened! I mean, that much is obvious, because of the choking scene that happened before, but I more mean that this implies that Andrew either threatening or utilizing physical force is an established pattern of behavior. However, the Decay route implies that she never thought Andy would kill her (but Andrew would) which can either be for or against depending on one's perspective, so I don't hold to the idea that it's an established pattern too strongly.

Okay, so. Andrew has some controlling and possessive tendencies too. So what? Their relationship is codependent. It's advertised as such. What of it?

Well first of all, it pretty much blows the lid off of the idea that Ashley is the sole perpetrator of abuse in their relationship. I've seen a lot of people view Andrew's behavior as justified retaliation against abuse, but frankly, I don't believe that him threatening to strangle Ashley for violating boundaries by trying to hold him accountable for his actions (given the strangulation part happens after she brought up Nina's death and how Andrew was ultimately responsible) is justified. And I ESPECIALLY don't believe that him threatening to backhand Ashley for her transactional attitude towards sex is justified in ANY circumstance.

EDIT: This part was edited in from the original post for the sake of readability so they don't have to see the reblogs to see the updated version! This post gained more traction than I was expecting!

…But perhaps even more telling is what she DOESN'T do.

Pushing someone's boundaries until they lash out is a pretty common tactic in abusive relationships. It's easy to see why, too: It justifies prior behavior and paints them in a negative light to others. This can be an important aspect of using DARVO (deny, attack, and reverse victim and offender) against someone, although the two ideas aren't necessarily linked.

It's pretty easy to argue that this is what Ashley does, but if you look at the one time her boundary pushing DID go too far, when Andrew lashes out with physical violence… she doesn't do that. She doesn't blame him. She doesn't paint herself as the victim. She doesn't even try to give a reason as to why she shouldn't be killed outside of the comfort she gives him. Why is this notable?

Because the mom does, in fact, engage in what could be considered DARVO against Ashley:

(i will elaborate more on this screenshot in particular below)

Ashley is directly compared to Mrs. Graves by Andrew, and yet she crucially displays none of the habits that Mrs. Graves does. Mrs. Graves lays the blame on Ashley, but Ashley doesn't lay the blame on Andrew. Mrs. Graves tends to paint herself as the victim of Ashley, but Ashley does no such thing to Andrew. The mom denies her culpability at every turn; Ashley doesn't. Ashley tries to hold Andrew accountable for his role in Nina's death, which could be considered a kind of DARVO. But she never denies that she had a role to play in it. She just mentions that he was the one who pulled the trigger. And he was.

(and the point was more that she DIDN'T engage in it when threatened with physical violence; the perfect chance to)

In Mrs. Graves' mind, she is the victim of either Ashley, or society as a whole. In Ashley's mind, she knows what she is, what she does, and what she's about. The only thing she's oblivious to- or doesn't acknowledge, at least- is the threat Andrew poses to her. In her mind, she's the bad guy. In Andrew's mind, Ashley is the bad guy. In official art, she is the bad guy:

And yet, in the game itself, Andrew is the one holding the cleaver. Not her. Hm.

Ashley is the world's most convenient scapegoat. She allows people to mask their own worst habits and pretend they're better people than they are. She accepts this role. She embraces it. She doesn't try to deny it. But when that mask slips, people lash out at her. Both Mrs. Graves and Andy (NOT Andrew, crucially) predicate much of their self-perception on being what she's not.

But they're the ones who enabled her to become like this, every step of the way.

And that's what blew my fucking mind, and made me question just who the victim really is. She was never given a chance to be normal, because other people relied on her NOT being normal.

By the end of my second playthrough, I felt worse for Ashley than I did for Andrew, and I still do.

So. What am I getting at? What does this show me about the relationship between Ashley and Andrew?

(I also wanted to point out that Andrew does engage in DARVO too but I didn't want to distract from the behavior of the mother. Unlike what Andrew does, it doesn't require someone to reassess the narrative they have towards the game in order to realize the implications of it, whereas it's pretty easy to justify Andrew's words as not qualifying as DARVO if you buy into the narrative that he's the sole victim and/or that Ashley is the main perpetrator of abuse. A friend of mine pointed out that it's a pretty key part of the push/pull dynamic they have, and I completely agree.

However, the direct comparisons to the behavior of the mother can't be ignored no matter your narrative, so I felt as if I needed to highlight that more.)

EDIT OVER

It shows me that their relationship is all about control.

Specifically, the push and pull of who controls who in any given situation.

Andrew weaponizes his incompetence. He always looks to lay the blame on Ashley. This is drawn attention to several times, and said explicitly in the Decay route.

He is always surrendering control to her, and yet he never HAS to. He could always just say no. He could always refuse. What are the consequences? Her being upset? Well, unfortunately, it's not that easy. That's not how abuse dynamics work. He probably feels like he has to, or rather, feels like there's no other option. That he's in too deep, and stuck with her no matter what. But personally, I think it's pretty clear from his willingness to surrender control to Ashley that he still feels like he has it at points, because the moment he feels like he's about to lose it, he either considers violence, even as a child-

(the actual scene of slicing her finger is pretty sus too with this reading in mind)

-or resorts to it, outright, in both the choking scene and the vision in the Decay ending... when Ashley doesn't have enough bullets to defend herself (this will be important later!).

SO WHAT POINT AM I TRYING TO MAKE??? AM I JUST MAKING ABUSE APOLOGIA (the answer may surprise you)?

No. I don't think so.

Ashley is obviously very bad. She's controlling and uses pretty textbook abuse and entrapment tactics on Andrew whereas everything he does to her is inference, with Ashley too daft to realize just how much danger she's in until the vision in the Decay ending spells it out for her- and I don't know if a true abuse dynamic allows for one to be completely unaware of the consequences of breaking free. She could just let go of her desire for control and Andrew would be a much happier person.

And that's the point, because so would she.

I bring up control because that push and pull- that desire for control over each other- is exactly what's tearing their relationship apart, and this effect most obviously manifests in the two endings of episode 2. In the Decay ending, Ashley either tries to exert control over Andrew due to a lack of trust, or Andrew allows his feelings of entrapment to truly take root in his mind and guide his actions. In the Decay ending, Andrew becomes a true doormat with no will of his own, allowing his feelings of bitterness and resentment to fester and grow, eventually resulting in their deaths.

In the Burial ending, Andrew does the exact opposite. He takes control of the situation and does exactly what Ashley would do without much of a fuss. This eventually culminates in THAT scene (assuming you take the Questionable route), where his facial expression alone speaks volumes:

Look at how fucking confident this man is. This is not the face of someone who's unsure of himself; this is the face of someone who knows exactly what he wants and takes it. He is absolutely in control of this situation, and everyone is happier for it.

And what does Ashley have to do to get this ending?

Let's go back to Decay for a moment. If Ashley has bullets in her gun, she has control over the situation. She, at any point, could put an end to Andrew and survive. And yet, at the very end of it all, she could choose not to. She could choose to surrender control to Andrew, allowing herself to die. And that ending, I believe so much of his life and willpower will have decayed that there's nothing left for him to take control of, leaving him no choice- or rather, no use for the control he now has- but to die with her.

And in the Burial ending, she has to let him out of his cage before it's too late. She has to surrender control to him, and when she does-

-He will become everything she ever needed him to be.

It's all about her surrendering control, and it's all about him taking control. Because, no matter what, as long as that happens... the two of them will be together forever.

In life...

...or in death.

How romantic.

So no, the incest end is not the fucking bad end. They're going to be together forever in the end either way, so they might as well live through it.

#gaming #the coffin of andy and leyley #gravecest #ashley graves #andrew graves #someone help me i can't stop thinking about this fucking game

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iamthedukeofurl · 9 months ago

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While what happened to studio ZAUM and the Disco Elysium creators is undeniably tragic, it's honestly the most thematically coherent way that particular story could end. A passionate group of creatives creates a massively successful product, it's weird and innovative and, while it certainly draws a ton of inspiration from various existing works and genres, it synthesizes them into something unique enough that I'd say it would be impossible to predict that there even WOULD be an audience for it until it was released. It's openly political, but not in a way that necessarily makes anybody feel good about their existing beliefs. The entire thing is crafted and driven by deep passion and excellent writing and more than a little bit of insanity. And then, once it became clear that it was a genuine major phenomenon, the investors stole the company and the IP out from under the creatives. Which, yeah, that tracks for the Funny Communism Game. Otherwise, what are the options? The creators make another game, but fail to capture the lightning in the bottle of the original. The ideas that were once so fresh and unique are now expected, meaning that they'll be condemned for failing to reuse them by the people who just want to play Disco Elysium again for the first time, but won't have the same impact on people. Ends with a whimper. "What happened to the Disco Elysium guys" "Oh they made Disco Elysium II: Disco Elysiumer, but it kind of sucked". The creators could make another game, and it's wildly successful again, and they make a ton of money off of it. Capitalism Works and, just this once, people are rewarded for their ingenuity and passion. Eventually you either go back to number 1, or "Makers of Funny Communism Game are rich now". Like, genuinely the best outcome from a "People deserve to be rewarded for putting things people love into the world" standpoint, but thematically a bit eh. Worst case scenario, you get a repeat of Notch. I guess a variant of option 1 has them TRY to catch the lightning in a bottle again but fail to make anything they're satisfied with as the studio breaks up in frustration in an ironic repeat of the in-game story of Fortress Occident.

Instead, they make Funny Communism game, it's wildly successful, but instead of receiving the rewards promised under capitalism, somebody leverages the fact that they have access to capital to steal the studio out from under them and claim the rewards of their passion and labor. Karl Marx would have something to say about that.

#disco elysium

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agaypanic · 9 months ago

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Hello! I'd love to request Charlie Swan with a teacher girlfriend. Perhaps he comes to visit on his lunch or something and sees how attached the kids are to her and it makes him happy to see how caring she is. Please and thank you!(I work with pre k but my former class was todds and they are still clingy 💖💖)

Lunch Break (Charlie Swan X Teacher!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chief Swan visits his girlfriend on his lunch break, and can’t help but adore the way she is with her students.

A/N: i know nothing about taking care of or teaching little kids lol

***

Charlie wasn’t used to being around a toddler, let alone twenty of them. Even when his daughter Bella was at that age, he didn’t see her much.

Yet here he was, sitting in his girlfriend’s classroom, having lunch with her while a group of toddlers napped on the floor.

“So, how’s your day been?” You asked in a whisper, picking at the burger and fries that Charlie had brought you from the Carver Cafe.

“Oh, not much.” He responded in an equally low voice, but more gruff. His fingers smoothed over his mustache before speaking again. “Still looking into those missing persons cases, but we’ve been coming up with nothing.”

“You’ll find something, bear.” You squeezed his shoulder, and he leaned into your touch. “You always do.”

“Yeah, maybe… But enough about me, how’s your day?”

You let out a tiny laugh, not surprised that Charlie would bounce the attention onto you as soon as he could.

“Well, today we had an art day.” You gestured to one of your tables on the opposite side of the room, covered in different drying papers. “Watercolor, crayon, markers, that kind of thing. That was really fun. I know I shouldn’t play favorites, but I really like Delilah’s. You know her mom, right? Samantha?” Charlie nodded after a quick moment of thought, and so you continued. “Well, she wanted to make a meadow, so she covered her paper in green, and then she stamped little fingerprints all over as flowers. I mean, you kinda have to ask her what it is to figure out what it is, but I don’t know, it was really cute and- oh my god, I’m rambling, huh?” You covered your mouth to stop more word vomit from spilling, a little giggle slipping past your fingers.

Charlie pulled your hand away, laying a kiss on your knuckles. He nudged your knee with his own, a coy smile on his lips.

“No, I like hearing you talk.” Your cheeks reddened, and you scrunched your nose at him. He squeezed your hand. “Come on, keep going. What happened after painting?”

“Read the kids a story.” You answered, trying to remember the title. “They really like that Llama Llama book. But some of the kids really wanted ‘Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!’ so I told them I’d read that after nap time. Then they all had food, fell asleep, and then you came with lunch.” You ate a fry before stealing a sip of Charlie’s coffee. You liked how he didn’t mind, instead watching you with a fond expression. “Which is delicious, by the way, thank you.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

“Ms. Y/n?” A tiny voice sounded from one of the sleeping mats. You gave Charlie’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go and standing up from your chair.

“Jayden?” You asked quietly, even though you knew it was him from his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Bad dream.” The little boy answered, rolling off his cot and looking at you with bleary eyes and a frown.

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey.” You said softly, crouching down close to him. “Do you want a hug?”

He nodded a few times, carefully walking through his sleeping classmates to reach you. He latched his arms around your neck, and you patted his back, waiting until he felt better.

Charlie saw the interaction from the corner of his eye, not wanting little Jayden to feel watched. He couldn’t help but smile at how quickly you were able to comfort him. It was clear that you were made for this kind of work, being so caring and nurturing without even thinking about it.

“Feeling better?” You asked Jayden as he let go of you, and he nodded. You smiled at him. “I’m glad. Now, you have a couple more minutes before we gotta start waking up. Do you wanna lay back down?” Jayden nodded again, and with a little wave of his hand, he tiptoed back over to his mat.

When he was settled, you stood up from your crouched position and went back to Charlie, who was looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“What?” You asked, finishing off the rest of your food.

“Nothing.” He said, shaking his head a bit. Charlie looked at his watch and sighed, realizing his break was almost over. “I should probably leave. The boys’ll need me back at the station soon.”

“Okay.” You said with a slight pout, wishing you had more time with him. The two of you cleaned up, Charlie insisting that he could throw the trash away on his way out. “I’ll see you later, bear.”

“See you soon, sweetheart.” Charlie kissed your cheek and went to the door, giving you a wave before exiting the room.

#agaypanic #charlie swan #charlie swan x reader #twilight #twilight x reader

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supermarket-goblin · 6 months ago

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I actually think with the introduction of Ankarna this season, we sort of have two gods of ideals that line up with things we have seen for the bad kids.

Let's start with Cassandra. Doubt. Mystery. Twilight.

Kristen is, in a canon, the champion of Cassandra, heralding her back in to this world. Kristen finds comfort in the unknown because the certainty of her Helioc faith was what hurt her initially. She uses that unknown as a sheild. Because it is uncertain, the possibilities are infinite.

Riz is a little investigator. He is a licenced private investigator to be specific. He is night owl, drinks far too much coffee kinds guy. His focus is often to the mystery. While a cases resolution is what he strives for, the digging through information. Doubt is important to Riz because without doubt, there is no mystery.

Gorgug is the third and final bad kid I'd personally align with Cassandra. Being part barbarian and half orc (which are stereotypically barbarians but more generally marshal fighters), you'd think Ankarna would the better fit. But I think Gorgugs tenant of himself throughout the show so far is self-discovery. He is something else, not just half-orc or gnome or barbarian or artificer. We see him juggling with his own internal dialogue and the expectations of others and stumbling in the dark to find his own way.

Lets move on to Ankarna. Conviction. Justice. The Dawn.

Figerouth loves her friends. To be the ome who has the power to fight for them, to protect them.in early seasons, she had the facade of not caring about them, but even through that, it was clear she would go to bat for them. She says something in season one of like "I think some people fight for friendship" and she never really stopped doing that.

Fabian knows who he is, certain of himself even when who he is changes. Despite one saying he would never learn to dance, even as part of his Owlbears training, when he is faced with Elven Sheet dancing, he very quickly adapts to his new reality. He knows who he is and does not shy away from it. He is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, and he is the future of dance.

Adaine is third. I think her kind of conviction veers a little closer to Ankarna's corrupted domain of anger. I think Adaines conviction is in seeing bad things happening in the world, and having the ability to care enough to do something about it. Aelwyn was mean, and bitchy, but upon learning that this behaviour was a sheild, Adaine began pushing for Aelwyn to escape their parents control. When their father tried to killed Adaine, who he should love, she took him out.

All of this to say, when the bad kids die, they should all go to Cassandra and Ankarna's marital domain heaven despite not all being of these faiths so that they can spend eternity together.

#dimension 20 #brennan lee mulligan #fantasy high #fantasy high: junior year #figeroth faeth #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #gorgug thistlespring

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 6 months ago

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early chaggie early morning where vaggie gets a hug

inspired by @sunsetcougar's headcanon idea of vaggie wrapping herself in blankets despite hell's heat for.... reasons :(

Vaggie: "Ugghhgh...." (slouches into kitchen) (wrapped in blankets)

Charlie: "Vaggie!" (singing) "Good moooorning~!"

Vaggie: "Mornin' sweetie... why is it morning..." (bumps into table) (slumps over it) "Fuck. Ow." (oozes into chair)

Charlie: "Aww." (sad pout) "Didn't get much sleep again, huh."

Vaggie: "Nnngh. Didn't."

Charlie: (cringing) "I wasn't, uh, kicking you was I? With the hooves- "

Vaggie: "I'm too short for you to reach."

Charlie: (grinning) "Which means you're just the right size!!!"

Vaggie: "Means I need my weight in additive simulant substances..."

Vaggie: (tries to stand) (BANG)

Vaggie: (slams into table again) "Fuck."

Charlie: "Vaggie!?"

Vaggie: (rubs missing eye) (muttering) "It's fine, 'm fine.... pinche pendejo.. mi ojo... just need coffee."

Charlie: "!! Don't stagger up! I'll make it!"

Vaggie: (slumping face down) (muffled) "m'love you."

Charlie: "Ha!" (laughing too hard) "Oh you- you'd love anyone who made coffee after a bad night's sleep-"

Vaggie: "No. Anyone else I'd just kill for it."

Charlie: (grinning) "Maim them, maybe."

Vaggie: "You have too much faith in morning me."

Charlie: "I love morning you~"

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: (stares around wildly for topic change) "A- anyway, um-" (spies vaggie's blankets) (actually frowns)

Charlie: "Aren't you hot?"

Vaggie: (groggy) (half awake) "Depends if I'm your type, I guess."

Charlie: "My ty- Shit!" (cup she's holding starts boiling) "No I meant-"

Vaggie: (looking up) "Coffee?"

Charlie: "-not that you AREN'T, because I mean really just LOOK at you, I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't w- but- What? Oh."

Charlie: (hands over coffee) "Careful. It's um. Hot."

Vaggie: "Thanks." (carefully not looking at Charlie) (muttering) "Hot just like everything else in hell is..."

Charlie: "THAT'S what I meant!"

Vaggie: "Guess that does make me hot since I'm here too now."

Charlie: "Yes right exactly, the hotness- hell's hotness- you're still not used to it! Not that the eternal searing flames of literal hell is something anyone should necessarily be expected to get used to, aside from me and the other hellborn- though not all of them like it here either, even if the other rings are more varied and sometimes have things like plants and weather- but for you, stuck here in the pride ring, in the purely physical sense I'm wondering because-"

Vaggie: "Charlie."

Charlie: "-it just seems like maybe there's kinda an easy way for you to at least FEEL less hot in the mornings and night? Again only in the purely physical sense, since you never do stop looking-"

Vaggie: "Sweetie."

Charlie: "-yes?"

Vaggie: (smiling) "Low caffeine, low word capacity. Cliff notes?"

Charlie: "Oh, right!" (laughs)

Vaggie: (watches) (remining eye soft)

Charlie: "Um- what's with the wrapping yourself in all those blankets? Normally you wear less than me and still complain about the heat. Feels like I'm missing something."

Vaggie: "Can't have your brilliant brain starving for knowledge can we."

Charlie: "No that's fine- I just want you to be comfortable!"

Vaggie: "Well you're right about the missing part."

Charlie: "I am?" (sits) (leans in) "Ooooh, what Vaggie lore am I missing?"

Vaggie: (snorting) "Vaggie what?"

Charlie: "Lore, but I- I'm not writing any of it down!!!"

Charlie: "...much."

Vaggie: (lifts cup) "I'm getting royalties in coffee so it's fine. Write whatever you want in your diary."

Charlie: "I wanna write what I somehow missed out on while observing you!"

Charlie: (scoots chair closer) (chin in hands) (Staring)

Charlie: "I've been observing a normal amount, to be clear. Juuuust in case last part was kinda alarming or worried you."

Vaggie: "I'm not. It didn't."

Charlie: "Okay! So...?"

Vaggie: "It's not you."

Vaggie: (looks away) (sips coffee)

Vaggie: "More of a... 'me missing something' thing."

Charlie: ".....er."

Charlie: "...you've, um." (clears throat)

Charlie: "You do have something on under the blankets. R-right?"

Vaggie: "Yep. Just like you've still got those red cheek spots under your blush."

Charlie: (covering blush with hands) (stubbornly NOT looking away) "So if your clothes aren't missing- what is?"

Vaggie: "My wings."

Vaggie: (gulps hot coffee and winces)

Charlie: "..."

Charlie: "...do the blankets feel like them?"

Vaggie: "No." (another gulp and wince) "They were heavy."

Charlie: (drooping down onto table) (head on folded arms) "Wings are heavy...?"

Vaggie: "They're alive. They've got, mass and weight to them."

Charlie: "And warmth?"

Vaggie: "And they can hold you. Like when you fold your arms around yourself."

Charlie: "Like a hug."

Vaggie: (awkward) "Sure. Whatever."

Charlie: "So you miss them, and..." (drooping) "Wrapping yourself in blankets is the closest you get to feeling like you have them again."

Vaggie: "It's not even close at all, really." (hollow laugh) "I'll get over it. Don't worry."

Charlie: "Get over it?"

Vaggie: "Like with the heat, it's just another part of hell. It's fine."

Charlie: "Hmm."

Charlie: (gets up)

Charlie: "Can I try?"

Vaggie: (shoulders hunching) "...try what?"

Charlie: "Being a better blanket, since nothing can really be like your wings were."

Vaggie: "...."

Charlie: "I'm princess of hell, so I get to decide what's hell's like. A, a little anyway."

Charlie: (walks around behind vaggie) "And this might be a bit cooler? I know I run hot along with not noticing the whole hellish heat stuff, but- at least you'd still get airflow. And. I'd be heavier than a blanket! I think?"

Charlie: (lean forward to look at vaggie upside down)

Charlie: "So. Hug? Can I?"

Vaggie: ".... you don't have to ask before hugging me."

Charlie: "You used to jump when I did. Or slip off afterwards to hide in some high shadowy corner of a bookshelf for the rest of the day."

Vaggie: "Don't remind me."

Charlie: "It was cute! But I should've just asked. And this is different."

Vaggie: "It's not." (lets blankets fall) "Knock yourself out."

Charlie: (kneeling behind her) "I'll let go whenever you want."

Vaggie: "Charlie. I'm not a glass vase. Relax."

Charlie: "No, you're not glass- you're you, and you're tense." (hands on vaggie's hunched shoulders) (plays with ends of vaggie's still short hair) "This is a hug. Hugs need waaaaay more carefulness than glass vases do-"

Charlie: "Also! We still need a breakfast that isn't coffee."

Vaggie: "Slander." (drinks) "No we don't."

Charlie: "Yes we do but it can wait. If- wow, you really are tense." (starts rubbing vaggie's shoulders) "How did you sleep like this!?"

Vaggie: (slumping) "I didn't."

Charlie: "Well if you DON'T want breakfast right now then that leaves time for hugs! Or say the word and I'll switch to breaking out the toast and jam, or doughnuts- if Razzle and Dazzle didn't find them- or something."

Vaggie: "I'll probably just doze off again, honestly." (groaning) "Feel free to step over me when I start snoring on the kitchen floor..."

Charlie: "I would never leave you there."

Vaggie: "That's true. Would be trip hazard."

Charlie: "That's not why."

Vaggie: "You could totally trip over me. Stub your hoof or something. I'm not THAT small."

Charlie: "That's not why either."

Vaggie: (sips coffee)

Charlie: (pats her shoulders) "Hug time?"

Vaggie: "Mm." (tenses up again)

Charlie: "Is that a 'mmmrgh yes' or a 'mmrrgh no thanks'?"

Vaggie: "I've told you, you don't have to ask."

Charlie: "Is THAT a yes?"

Vaggie: (sighs) "Yes Charlie. You can hug."

Charlie: "Thanks~"

Charlie: (leans in) (gently with the hug, arms around vaggie) (extra carefully with the squeeze)

Charlie: "...how's this?"

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: (sets down coffee) (touches charlie's arms) "Can I-"

Charlie: "I'll can let go! It's okay-!"

Vaggie: "No, just. You're fine. Let me rearrange you a bit?"

Charlie: "Oh sure!!! Yes! Whatever you want!!"

Vaggie: "Wings are more, they were more like..."

Vaggie: (shifts Charlie's arms around and leans back into her more)

Vaggie: "...it was more like.."

Charlie: (tries another soft squeeze) (whispering) "Like this?"

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: "Yeah." (blinking hard) "It was."

Charlie: "Okay. And that's... okay..?"

Vaggie: "...it's nice."

Charlie: (smiling) "I'm now officially free for wing simulation hugs whenever you want them."

Vaggie: "You gotta sleep sometime, hon."

Charlie: "We share the same giant bed. We can just cuddle!" (butting the back of vaggie's head) "If we can make hell even a little nicer for you, Vaggie, then we should."

Vaggie: "Why both. It's hell for reason."

Charlie: "Because you'll feel better? And that's important?"

Vaggie: "I'm fine with not feel great all the time."

Charlie: "Why though? Vaggie-"

Vaggie: "Builds character."

Charlie: "...Alright." (headbutts again) "Well I'm already quite a character and I like it better when you're feeling better. It makes ME feel better."

Vaggie: “Now that’s definitely important.”

Charlie: “Heh. Just like you.”

Vaggie: (holds charlie's arms as charlie holds her) (doesn't answer)

The Coffee: (slowly cools off while they hug)

-several minutes of hugging later-

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: "How did the wing hugging thing WORK exactly?? You had moth wings, right? Insect wings? I always thought those were pretty stiff- very pretty and fluttery!- but not very bendable. Are some bug wings actually bendy? Or was it more a weird demon thing, like random horns or-"

Charlie: "-Vaggie?"

Vaggie: (slumped) (dozed off on Charlie's shoulder) (breathing softly against crook of charlie's neck)

Charlie: (smiles) "...pretty good hug, huh?"

Vaggie: (snores a little)

Charlie: "Heheh." (smile slipping)

Charlie: "...sorry."

Charlie: (hugs tighter)

Charlie: ".... if I'd just found you sooner, I..."

Cupboard Door: (creaks open)

Charlie: (looks up) (weak smile) "Oh, hey guys- Good breakfast?"

Razzle & Dazzle: (guilty shake off doughnut crumbs)

Charlie: "It's okay. You know she's not much of a morning food person anyway."

Razzle: "Rrr." (flutters into table to peer at vaggie)

Dazzle: (leans back into cupboard)

Charlie: "Oh she's just tired- I'm helping her get some sleep." (actually smiling now) (shifts hind legs) "Um. My hooves might also start falling asleep soon. Maybe you wanna fetch me a pillow or something, please?"

Razzle: (points from vaggie to the floor behind charlie)

Charlie: "Maybe? I think I could shift her into my lap and lean on the cabinets... She feels pretty out of it. One-hundred percent will need a pillow for that though."

Razzle: (flutters off) (pats charlie and vaggie's heads along the way)

Dazzle: (wiggles out of cupboard) (places half an eaten doughnut on table in front of vaggie)

Dazzle: "Ree." (points at doughnut sternly)

Charlie: (giggles) "I'll TRY to get her to eat it when she wakes up. But no promises~"

Dazzle: (huffs) (follows razzle out)

Charlie: "......"

Charlie: (long sigh) (slumps against vaggie)

Charlie: "I'm helping. I can help you- I-" (hides face in vaggie's hair)

Charlie: "...hell can be a happy place too, I promise. I won't let it hurt you again."

....

-somewhere in heaven-

Lute: (sneezes)

Adam: "Go fuck yourself."

Lute: (wiping face with bloodstained sleeve) "Thank you, sir."

Adam: "And take a dunk in the celestial sea or whatever. Extermination was like, months ago- bitch did you even shower?"

Lute: "I did, sir."

Adam: "Went right back into the sinner splattered outfit?"

Lute: "Yes sir."

Adam: "That's gross as fuck." (grinning) "Hardcore. Give me SKIN, bitch!"

Lute: (smirks) (high fives)

Adam: "Even Vagina never went that hard- even when she was fucking you over in kill counts and shit."

Lute: (not smiling anymore) "She was the only one, sir."

Adam: (not listening) "No style! She was boring as FUCK with that lame spear. Stab kill. Stab kill. One hit, no misses, no flying limbs. No fucking CHASES to get the sinner shits really screaming! Just didn't know how to let loose and have FUN with it!"

Lute: "No, sir. And now we know why."

Adam: "Pretty pathetic for one of my girls." (sighs) "Aw whatever. Women, am I right?"

Lute: "She was a filthy traitor."

Adam: "Yeah, pretty much all of you are." (picks at mask teeth) "Lucifer barely counts as a dude either, like, dudes weren't a THING when creation jerked him out. Wanna know why?"

Lute: "You were the f-"

Adam: "CAUSE IM THE FIRST MAN, BABY!"

Lute: "The original-"

Adam: "THE ORIGINAL DICK Father of all winners EVER! And of all those lame-ass losers down in hell, not that they fucking show any respect-"

Lute: "And she will be the last Exorcist ever to betray you."

Adam: "Eh. We'll see I guess. Bet she's fucking regretting it either way, huh?" (grinning) "Probably SEEING the error of her ways.."

Lute: "Realizing she made one hell of a choice."

Adam: "Wishing she hadn't fucking WINGED IT that one time, HA!"

Lute: "We clipped those thoughts pretty quick."

Adam: (slaps lute on back) "That was fucking great. I've got her agonized "oh" face from the wing ripping part as a screen saver- but don't fucking tell Sera that, the saintly seraph virtue prude of a bitch."

Lute: "Never." (smiles) (fingers her sword) "...And thank you, sir."

Adam: "Sword still got some of her blood on it?"

Lute: "Maybe."

Adam: "Now THAT'S gross. Love it."

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #lute hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #incorrect quotes #fluff #slight angst but mostly fluff #charlie is good at hugs #charlie loves hugs and knows how powerful they can be- if done RIGHT #vaggie really really needed this one #lute and adam have no idea how badly they fucked up

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neil-gaiman · 1 year ago

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Hi Neil!

I don't want to sound like a killjoy, but I'm concerned about David Tennant's family being involved in the second season of Good Omens (or Michael Sheen's partner Anna Lundberg in a future season three). I absolutely have nothing against them, I loved Staged just like everyone else, but this is exactly the matter for me: casting them in the series would automatically make me think about Staged or something else while I'm watching GO, and it would distract me from the plot and the magic of it. It would feel somehow like a family reunion, no matter how talented they are as actors (not to mention that there would be nepotism accusations, above all against David. I hope this won't affect the popularity rating, since season three is still hypothetical). I'm not the only one who thinks this might be an issue, from what I read on blogs here on Tumblr (and on the Internet in general) but I feel like there's a sort of tension, like people are scared to say it out loud, because some fans get the wrong idea and accuse them of hating Georgia or Anna or Ty (and that's why I'm asking this anonymously, I don't want to start a fight). I hope you get what I'm saying, it only felt fair to me to let you know whatever concerns some fans might have, and maybe even give you a perspective you weren't considering? Of course you have the last word on this, and if you think this is not a big deal, I trust your judgement.

I wish you a fantastic day! (And sorry for my English, I'm not native, I tried my best!)

Yeah. So, I find that a little creepy, not very creepy, but definitely a bit.

I thought we were lucky to get Peter Davison in Good Omens 2. (He didn't audition. We offered him the part, as I've been a fan of his since 1978, and All Creatures Great and Small. He crushes it, and is heartbreaking, funny, and still somehow the moral compass of the episode he's in.) Ty Tennant auditioned, along with a number of other actors, and got the part because he did it best. (I didn't know who his family was when we cast him. I just liked the audition tape.)

If you're hunting down family connections, David's mother-in-law, Ty's grandmother, Sandra Dickinson, is in the Audible Sandman, too, as one of the Three Witches/Fates/Eumenides etc. And she was cast in it two years before David Tennant (although probably around the same time Michael Sheen was asked to be Lucifer). (I've been a fan of Sandra's since she was Trillian in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in 1981.)

Anyway, I'm sorry you're worried about Peter and Ty's performances, although I promise you have nothing to worry about, and I'm sorry that you worry that our possibly casting Georgia and Anna in a hypothetical and not-yet actually a real thing Season 3 might make people think of Staged and make them not able to enjoy Good Omens any longer. (Had I known people were this easily shaken I wouldn't have appeared in Staged either, in case my name at the front of Good Omens shattered the fragile illusion and revealed to people that the David Tennant and Michael Sheen who play Crowley and Aziraphale are actors.)

Starting in 2017 I was the recipient of mind-mangling quantities of Tumblr abuse for casting David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Aziraphale and Crowley, which was, many people made very clear to me, the worst casting in the whole entire utter history of casting, and something that Good Omens would never recover from, because for a start neither of them looked like the versions in people's heads, and I'd also miscast them badly because everyone knew that if you had to cast Sheen and Tennant, Michael had to play Crowley and David had to put on some weight and play Aziraphale. (It wasn't until May 2019 that people stopped grumbling.) So people worrying I'm going to cast Anna and Georgia in a season that hasn't even been commissioned in parts that haven't been written just makes me smile.

I hope this helps.

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writeroutoftime · 4 months ago

Text

not so mean and scary

pairing: cassian x reader (no pronouns used - just sweetheart)

summary: cassian finds himself in a pinch before a dinner with the inner circle and stumbles across your bakery. perhaps some pastries aren't the only thing he walks away with.

words: 1.1k

a/n: is this such a cliche trope? yes! do I love this scene from stranger things s5 with eddie and chrissy? yes! well, this is the story that came from these ideas lol - please enjoy! also, where is my cassian??

oOoOo

The golden sun had begun its descent over Velaris, bringing with it the most stunning nights to be found in all of Prythian. After a long day at the bakery, you were ready to head home and collapse underneath a warm, cozy pile of blankets. All that stood between you and that goal were a handful of chores which needed to be finished before closing up shop for the evening.

Wash the dishes, sweep the floor, and empty the display case you thought to yourself. Just thirty more minutes and you'd be free and clear.

Suddenly, with more pep than before, you found yourself humming as you washed the last remaining dishes. So stuck in your head, you would have missed your last customer had it not been for the bell that merrily chimed as they pushed their way inside.

Without glancing over your shoulder, you gently called out. "I'm so sorry, but we're actually closed for the evening."

"Please tell me you're joking." the deep, husky voice pleaded.

A shiver rushed through you at his timbre, but it wasn't until you turned around that you found yourself completely frozen in place.

Before you stood General Cassian, Lord of Bloodshed and commander of the Night Court armies - in your bakery. This was the first time since the opening of your shop that you had interacted with anyone from the High Lord and Lady's inner circle.

Your eyes swept along his tall frame, noting his long, windswept hair, and the red siphons that gleamed across his dark, training leathers.

"Are you truly packed up for the evening?" Cassan asked with soft eyes when you didn't respond to his initial comment. "I promised Feyre I would pick up dessert for dinner tonight and she'll kill me if I show up empty handed."

"T-the high lady has had my desserts?" you stuttered out, those particular words being the only ones you focused on.

The General chuckled and took a few steps further into your shop. "Sure has, sweetheart. So, you'd be doing me a real big favor by helping me out if you're able to." he said, leaning against the counter, the veins in his arms more prominent.

Glancing to your display case, there were still plenty of desserts you had yet to pack away. And there was no denying the way your heart fluttered when Cassian looked at you with those hazel eyes. There was something deep inside you that called to help his cause.

"Well," you sing-sung. "if you think the High Lady and Lord would be okay with what's left in the display then they're all yours."

His lips split into a large grin. "They'll be ecstatic, sweetheart. What do I owe you?" he moved to reach for some coins.

"No payment necessary." you told him but rushed as he moved to protest. "At least through coins. You're doing me a favor taking them off my hand. But can you sweep floors?"

Cassian winked in your direction and picked up the nearby broom, spinning it between his fingers. "Just you wait, I'm the best there is."

A warm silence fell over the shop. Packing up the remaining desserts, you couldn't help but watch Cassian out of the corner of your eye. The broom looked comically small in his muscular hands, and his eyes furrowed in concentration. It was as if he were trying to win the gold medal in sweeping floors.

You had to stifle a laugh. "You know, I have to say, General, you're not what I thought you'd be." you told him, tying the to-go bag up.

He smiled and you swore your heart stopped beating for a moment. "First of all, you can call be Cass. And what? You thought I'd be all mean and scary?"

"Yeah." you whispered, feeling a bit sheepish.

"Well, you know what?" Cassian asked, looking around the shop before leaning in to be closer to you. "I actually thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too." he whispered as though he had shared his biggest, darkest secret.

"Me?" you whispered back, unable to fight the smile that tugged at your lips.

He nodded, completely serious. "Oh yeah, terrifying. I mean you look so intimidating sitting here in your bakery. I didn't know if I'd leave here with my life."

Playfully, you shoved him away, rolling your eyes as you chuckled. "Do you want these desserts or not?" you threatened to the best of your ability.

"You wouldn't, sweetheart." Cassian gasped.

"The name's y/n, and, yeah, I would." you teased before setting the packed-up bags in his waiting palms.

Cass looked at the bag, over his shoulder at the door, then back at you. It seemed as though a war raged in his mind. "Listen, I truly do have to go, but, uh. Do you think you'd maybe want to...I don't know, we could, um." Cass stuttered and stumbled over his words, his left hand tangled in his hair, not sure what to do with it.

"Yes." you interrupted. "Pick me up at seven tomorrow night?"

oOoOo

bonus - 3 months later:

The fire crackled in the background of the dining room in River House. You sat next to Cassian and took in the warmth that also came from the tight-knit family that joined you around the table.

Every day you thanked the Mother that Cassian stumbled into your bakery all those weeks ago. It had been a dream since. And who better to thank than the female responsible for your meeting?

"You know, it's a good thing you needed Cass to pick up dessert that evening, Feyre." you said, smiling as you intertwined your fingers with Cassian's.

Feyre's head titled to one side than the other as she thought about your statement. "What are you talking about?"

"The evening that Cass and I met. He came into the shop late to pick up dessert you wanted from the shop."

The High Lady looked at Cassian before she, and the rest of the room, busted out laughing. Your brows furrowed in confusion, especially when you turned towards Cass to see his face suddenly red and bashful.

Mor was the first to contain her laughter, hand over her chest as she took a steading breath. "I promise you, y/n, we have never asked Cassian to be in charge of the dessert for a family dinner.

"We know he'd eat it all before he even got here." Azriel added, throwing a teasing smile at his brother.

Whipping around your eyes widened in Cassian's direction. "So, you lied to me about Feyre liking my desserts?"

"That's what bothers you?" Cass roared with laughter, throwing his arm over your shoulder and dragged your chair closer to his.

"You're a dork." you teased. "But you're lucky I love you." you said, curling into his side, eyes closing in comfort when Cass' lips brushed against the top of your head.

"If it makes you feel better, I absolutely adore your desserts now."

#cassian x reader #cassian imagine #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rita writes

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linddzz · 11 months ago

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Latest idea floating around in my head: a twist on the Hob saving Morpheus from the time-out ball, except that's where they first met each other.

Hob's still immortal, it's just that Death was the one who came and gave him the deal of meeting every 100 years

(is this also bc I'd love Death being Hob's centennial buddy? Her being way less reserved and straight up telling him who she is. Her delight at his delighting over life. The rage in him when Eleanor and Robyn die. Death took them and she wouldn't even say anything to him when she did it. Also I'd like to see him just immediately choke and squirm like a bastard as soon as he starts explaining his new shipping business to her in 1789. Yes and hell yes gimme Hobsie and Death as bros.)

So Hob is trying out new stuff again. He's never tried out being a magus and gets himself in as a member of Burgess' order and eventually an acolyte.

And then he's introduced to the "devil" that Burgess keeps in the dungeon. He's to help study up on strengthening the wards around the sphere and all that. And boy is he deeply, super uncomfortable with the sight of this frail man trapped in a cage.

("Don't let his pretty face fool you." Burgess will tell him, "the thing is a demon who would destroy us all if given half a chance."

To be fair, Morpheus does not help his case at all and his expression clearly says "you fuckin bet I will")

And Hob is Hob. So while he's working on studying up on wards (which so happens to involve a lot of careful, detailed study of the wards around the sphere) he's chatting at the thing in it. He complains about the boss, talks about the War, tells the demon about his day while the demon either glares at him or makes a hilariously big show of not paying attention. Sometimes Hob straight up shirks work (with a winking "you won't tell the boss right?") And just reads books.

And he nearly shrieks in surprise when he's reading some new novel called The Hobbit out loud and looks up to find the demon watching and obviously interested. So of course Hob is gonna keep reading him stories and keep studying those binding spells super closely.

And ok that's where I gotta admit the story doesn't have a solid conclusion in my head yet (besides obviously Hob is gonna bust Dream out and then get kissed a LOT) but I do have one bit where Morpheus first talks to him and of course it's just cryptic weird shit. Because Morpheus has started watching this shit-wizard who won't shut the fuck up back and can tell that something is OFF about him.

So just imagine Hob is yammering away about how he thinks the masters kid and the gardener have something going on, and he nearly shits himself when the "demon" presses a hand against the glass and says

"Death has touched you. I see it now. My siblings marks upon you. Is that what you are here for? To report to them? To let them see how low their family has come? So they do know what has come of me then, and they have sent you to chatter away and truly make it clear that they will do nothing."

Hob's just like. "WHAT?? SIBLINGS?! You TALK??! Hang on you know Death???!" But Morpheus already is back to curling in on himself in a furious pissy sulk

#dreamling #fic cooking #i imagine after Dreams outburst theres a lot more talking going on #idk if i have this fleshed out enough to fully write i just liked the idea of Hob reading Tolkien to the thing in the ball #and Morpheus being wooed with stories #the tension is ruined by me knowing that all it took was smearing the circle kdjfkd #maybe Hob purposely falls asleep to let Morpheus get out via his dreams

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gg-neptune · 3 months ago

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hii! Are you still taking request? I'd like to ask for one in which Reader takes care of a very sick Severus (Anything but a cold, it's too common), with all the comfort and pampering it requires :] Sev deserves to be pampered

A/n: Hiiii! Thank you for requesting this! I really likes writing this it was quite fun imagining a sick Sev. I imagined him having pneumonia for this since it was the first thing that came to mind and I had it recently so I based it off my symtoms. I hope you enjoy this. :)

Warnings: Sickness, pneumonia, coughing, phlegm (like he coughs it up it's gross but yk), if I missed anything pls tell me

It was not very often that wizards were affected by muggle viruses and diseases. By now they had come up with various potions to counteract them, and they had plenty of magical plants to help with the effects of whatever they had managed to contract. However, there were some rare cases in which they could not fight off the muggle diseases. It usually was not because they did not have a remedy but rather because they did not have the means to get to the remedy. This was often the case for Professor Snape.

Of course, being the Potions Master, he was always the one restocking the hospital wing and helping students who came to him who happened to get sick. Who was there for him when he was sick? Absolutely no one. Until recent developments in his life.

You. You had absolutely flipped his entire world upside down and shaken it violently to the point he was not sure this was his life still. He was quite used to going to his desk and spending hours grading alone without interruption. Now he had you come sit with him and pester him. He was used to wallowing in his bed alone when feeling ill, after Madame Pomfrey had told him off for being too needy one too many times. However, you were now here, and that simply would not be happening.

Now he had caught some virus that, till the day he died, he would claim was just a simple cold. He had written an owl to you that morning explaining his condition: “Just a simple common cold. I’m calling out so I don’t spread it. Don’t have a good enough potion brewed. Have a good day. Love you.”

This raised your suspicion, so after receiving it, you made your way down to the dungeons. After making it to his chambers, which was quite a way in the dungeons, you knock on his door.

“Severus, you ok? I wanted to check on you,” you call out to him. After waiting a moment with no response, you try the doorknob. A feeling in your gut told you something was wrong. Luckily the door was not locked, so you let yourself in. The curtains were still closed, and it seemed as if he had not even woken up yet.

“Severus, hun, are you ok?” you call out to him only to be met with the sound of a loud groan.

Quickly, you make your way back to his bedroom. The door was left open, and inside there was Severus. His hair was wet with sweat, and so was his shirt. Normally he was pale, but now looking at him, he was ghastly. He had been lying down, but his head was barely lifted to be able to look up at you.

"Oh, you didn’t have—” he was cut off by a cough, followed by him wheezing for breath, trying to clear his lungs. “You didn’t have to come see me. I am fine, just a cold, as you can see,” he quickly tries to choke out before he is attacked by more phlegm coming up his throat. “Keep a reasonable distance; I don't want you to get sick.” He barely gets this out before coughing again, this time coughing up a sizable amount of mucus from his throat.

"Severus, I don’t think this is a cold, I mean.” You take him and his appearance in for a moment as concern begins to flood your chest.

“I’m going to write to Dumbledore and call out. I think you need to go to the hospital wing, but I know you won’t,” he flops his head back on his pillow, acting all dramatic.

“I’m fine. Go teach, I will be fine,” he wheezes out, pulling off his sweat-soaked shirt.

“Severus I think you have something worse than a cold. I mean, you look terrible.” You take a couple of steps toward his desk and pick up a quill and some parchment. “I’m calling out. Deal with it.” You quickly write an owl to Professor McGonagall, knowing she will not come to his room to try and visit but rather just find something for your students to do all while listening to Severus groan and cough in the background about how he is fine and how it’s “just a cold.”

After sending off the owl, you turn back to Severus and sit on the edge of the bed, reaching your hand forward and taking his hand in yours. "Severus, dear, you're obviously very sick.”

"No, I’m n-,” once again he is cut off by his own coughing.

“Lay down for a second. I'm going to go run you a bath. You need to dislodge some of the mucus in your throat.”

“That is simply not necessary.”

“Severus, I will drag you into the bath. You are covered in sweat.”

He grumbles one last time before you walk out of the room and into his bathroom. You run some hot water into his bathtub, letting it fill up. You decide to drip some peppermint oils into the water, hoping it will help his lungs clear up a bit.

Once the tub is half full, you go back to Severus, who is now splayed out on his back, still wheezing for breath.

“Come on, Sev, I’ve got you a bath running.” Your tone is gentle as you grab the man by his arm and try to rouse him up from his position on the bed.

He just groans before slowly pushing himself up and standing. He sways quite a bit and has to put quite a bit of his weight on you as you slowly walk him to the bathroom. You sit him on the closed toilet seat and begin to attempt to undress him. Which considering how soaked his clothes were with sweat proved to be a tremendous feat. After getting him to undress, you help him into the bathtub. The entire time you do not speak, just gently trying to get him into the tub. It would have not mattered anyway, as he keeps coughing every second or so anyway. You make sure to close the bathroom door so you can lock the steam in, which will help him dislodge some of the mucus in his lungs.

He leans against the back of the tub, eyes half closed with exhaustion. He can barely keep himself up as you grab a washcloth and spread some water on his shoulders and face.

“I’ll wash your hair too,” you whisper to him, not wanting to disturb him too much, as honestly, you cannot tell if he is asleep or not.

Suddenly he pushes his torso forward and dunks his head under the water, submerging his hair completely. He comes back up and lazily pushes it out of his face before relaxing against the tub again. “There. Hair washed,” he grumbled out.

“Severus, you cannot be serious.” Disbelief is the only word that you can come up with to describe your feelings right now.

“What,” he snaps. His illness has clearly shortened his temper and patience quite a bit. He glares at you through his eyelashes, not bothering to lift his head.

“You cannot just dunk your head under water and expect your hair to be clean. It’s drenched in sweat and disgusting,” you say as you begin to try to adjust him so you can actually wash his hair. He, however, does not help you at all and instead just goes completely limp, leaving you to have to move his dead weight.

Finally, after breaking a sweat yourself, you get him properly adjusted so you can wash his hair. You lather up some shampoo and begin to gently work it into his hair, focusing on his roots. He seems to almost flinch as you make contact with his scalp.

“What’s wrong? Too rough,” you ask him with a quiet voice, wanting him to relax as much as possible.

“My head hurts,” he replies, scrunching up his face in displeasure. “I don’t mean a headache like the skin on my head.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you more gently than the last time threaded the lather through his hair. You know if his scalp is tender, it will be painful either way, but it is best to be as gentle as possible.

When you are finally content with how much you’ve washed his hair, you attempt to rinse his hair out with a nearby cup, but he swats you away and dunks his head under again.

He continues to cough up more and more phlegm, and time goes on, the hot steam proving to loosen some of it. Eventually the water goes cold, and you help him up and into some fresh clothes.

As you are putting his shirt on, he leans against the sink, not being able to support himself when he gets a violent fit of coughing.

“Lift your arms up,” you tell him, getting ready to put his shirt on.

He does as you say without complaint, but after you slip his shirt on his arms, they find their way around your waist. He holds you there for quite a while. As you are pressed against his chest, enjoying his warmth (and also realizing he is most likely running a fever), you can feel him wheeze with each breath he takes.

“Thank you,” he whispers to you, barely audible after quite some time.

You simply nod, knowing he is just not used to people taking care of him like this or even sticking around him like this.

After a while, he releases you, and you walk him to the couch in the lounge area.

“Why do I have to sit in here?” he complains as you gently push him to sit down on the sofa.

“Am I wrong to assume your bedsheets are covered in sweat?”

He gives no response to this and instead just lays on the couch, grumbling in displeasure at the fact you had a point.

“I’m going to write an owl to madame Pomfrey for your fever and cough; I don’t think I could brew a decent enough potion, and I don’t want to leave you alone for very long,” you explain to him as you grab a spare piece of parchment from the table in his kitchen.

“Hurry up,” his voice is almost whiny as he says this. He’s glaring at you again, not happy with the fact you are so far away from him.

Following his demands, you quickly explain to Madame Pomfrey what Severus’ symptoms are and to please give him something quick. You sent it off with the school owl that had returned with McGonagall's response, which said that it was perfectly fine that you called out today. Professor Sprout needed more hands to deal with some Devil's Snare.

Before returning to Severus, you rummage through his cabinet and quickly find a sleeping draft, deciding he needed to rest some. You bring it back to him and find him waiting on the sofa, sitting upright, glaring at you still.

“Why did you take so long? Like genuinely, what are you doing there?” he complains. You don’t know what had gotten into your man, but he seems to be even more dramatic and sassy today.

“I wrote an owl and I got you some sleeping potion; calm down.” You sit beside him, wrapping your arm around him and allowing him to lean into you. “Why don’t you lay down, Severus? Here, take a few drinks.” He does as you say, but he does not lay down.

“I can’t breathe when I’m lying down,” he’s becoming even more congested as time goes on.

Hearing this, you summon some pillows from his room with your wand and use them to prop up his head and chest. He settles against it, nestling himself in the pillows, not bothering with blankets as they are too hot for him at the moment.

You are sitting on the edge of the couch, running your hand through his still wet hair as he teeters on the edge of consciousness when he reaches out an arm and wraps it around your waist. He is attempting to pull you close to him; however, in his sick state, he cannot muster up the strength to actually pull you to him. You decide to help him out and lay next to him. You attempt not to put too much weight on his chest, not wanting to obstruct his breathing even more, but he continues to tug on your waist until you are on him to his full content.

Soon after, since he decided to exert all of his energy on pulling you on to him, he passes out immediately after. Leaving you to your own thoughts and opportunity to admire him.

His head had fallen back on the pillows, mouth slightly parted. It was only a matter of time before he started snoring. His hair that was still wet was splayed out everywhere.

A small smile formed on your loops as you looked up at him. He looked so calm for once in his life. He was not scowling or wearing an expression of displeasure but rather just a calm, happy face of content.

You run your fingers through his hair, earning a sigh from him, though he does not move or show any other signs of waking. Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, you carefully rest your head against this chest once more.

~~Later~~

You had been lying there for quite a while before Severus had woken up. You were not able to fall asleep yourself, but it did not bother you, opting to just admire the man you were laying on top of.

When he does finally wake up, it is only because madam Pomfrey is knocking at the door, which you have to get up to answer. He had quite a grip on you, so after struggling to get him to let go, you finally are able to answer the door, allowing her to give you the potions he will need in order to make a recovery.

“I expect he’s got pneumonia, but this should do the trick. Make him drink all of it, then sleep, and when he wakes he should be fine. Maybe cough up some remaining phlegm but otherwise good as new,” she explains, handing a bottle of dark green liquid to you.

“Thank you, Poppy. Genuinely, if he stayed in the state he was in for much longer, he was going to hack up a lung,” you partially joke but then begin to wonder if this was actually true.

She takes her leave soon after having students in the hospital wing to attend to, and you return to Severus, deciding it is time to wake him up. However, he is already awake. Glaring at you once again.

“Why were you gone?” he wheezes out, slouching against the pillows.

“You hold up the potion bottle to him, knowing he will recognize it immediately. He huffs and holds his arms out to you, wanting you close to him.

Not being able to deny him, you set the potion bottle down on the table and snuggle next to him. He is no longer lying but rather sitting against the pillows, allowing you to sit in his lap. You smile up at him, but he is not looking at you, opting to scowl at the potion you have been provided moments before.

“Do you have personal issues with that potion or something?” you joke. A hand goes up to his face, resting it against his cheek. He leans his face into your hand, craving more and more of your touch.

“I should’ve been the one to brew it,” he complains. You can tell by his tone he is feeling like he is not enough. You must be quick to rebuttal, or Severus will get lost in his own head.

“You were sick, Sev. and spending good time with me.”

Luckily, he is content enough with this answer and decides to drop it and shove it from his mind. He holds you close to him for quite some time. You keep your hands on his cheek, stroking his cheekbone, and occasionally you press a kiss to wherever you can reach on him, causing his cheeks to go a slight shade of pink.

Soon his eyes start to droop a bit, so you decide it is time to administer the potion to him. You lean over and grab it from the table, and after some coaxing, he drinks the entire thing. This time a sleeping potion is not needed in order to put him to sleep, so you just spend the rest of the time cuddling.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he whispers to you, almost asleep.

"Anytime, Sev,” you whisper back. You glance up at him, expecting to be met with his dark eyes looking at you fondly, only to see he has succumbed to sleep.

#severus snape #pro snape #pro severus #pro severus snape #professor snape #snape #snape fandom #snape fluff #snape x reader #snape x reader fluff #severus snape x reader #severus snape headcanons #dating severus snape #snape cuddle #hes such a cutie

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