#still how does he still reside in the us? i can only assume that he went on a student visa originally. hasn't that expired.

[goldenashes-if]

I know things have been changing with the revamp, so i wanted to ask some general worldbuilding questions to orient myself in your dragon universe 😄

So what is this kingdom? Where are we? Is this a large country? What's the geography situation for the dragon people

Are there other countries with non-dragon people and other species?? Or are all the sapient species worldwide dragon-ish just like us 🤔

there's a king and a regent, so I'm assuming a Noble class is a thing. But how important is the concept of bloodline, shifters, and nobility here? What is the percentage of nobility in the population?

Any class conflicts in society? Is us romancing Zaphia scandalous?? What other social classes are there and how do they live and interact with each other?

And (if its not too spoilery) what's the political climate like? King's sick 👀 that always makes a country feel a bit unsteady - are people getting particularly nervous about anything?

Ohh worldbuilding❤ lore dump time!

Very very honestly, it is a kingdom which is vaguely inspired by the United Kingdom, but not really. It has no geographical ties save for being a huge island separated from the mainland.

It has vast spaces for dragons to roam free, some big cities, like the one where the game is set (the capital) but outside those, there is the countryside, where dragons exist amongst humans as either pets, working animals, or companions, and then there are the mountains, caves and some other places that are inaccessible to humans where dragons can go nest and live a wilder life.

As far as the game is concerned, any other country does not exist, and so I'm going to focus on the country where the story is set (meaning, I haven't bothered to spend energy on worldbuilding that I won't use).

The country/world is basically inhabited by

Humans, who have some draconic traits (scales, sometimes eyes that resemble dragons) and most of them can shift into dragons at will

Humans that are called "true shifters" (MC) who can shift fully into a powerful dragon form, but that in their human form have many draconic traits (scales, horns, forked tongue, tail, claws...)

Domesticated dragons, who live alongside humans, can be very tiny or medium sized. Usually are considered pets

Wild, or at least non domisticated dragons, who are often a bit bigger than the domesticated ones. They tend to live in big, communal nests. (Think of dogs vs wolves)

(Note: dragons have the intelligence of smart dogs. But they have still animal behaviours and level of intellect)

POLITICAL SITUATION

In this world, there are commoners, middle class, and then the noble families. Above all, there is the Monarch, who rules with the council of the head of each noble family.

Currently, the situation is atypical as the King has fallen ill years ago and the Regent, his husband and also a true shifter, has taken his duties. He is quite reserved, and so leaves the noble families to their parties, and involves himself only with politics.

The noble families usually have a residence in the countryside, where they stay for half the year, and then they all move to the major city close to them for the Season (where the political meetings take place). Seasons are also an opportunity for single people seeking a spouse to find a good suitable bachelor (gn).

Marriages need to take into account the social standing of the other person so yes, MC and Zaphia would be quite scandalous. More than even Sekh' and MC. Instead, MC would be considered an unworthy party for Cherena.

[aromanticgarbage]

Thinking about that silly i hate foreigners 2012 filthy frank video and the fact that Joji literally pulled out his government approved passport for a stupid two minutes long comedy skit.

[girlbeyondthegrave]

THINGS I NOTICED WHILE WATCHING BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE AGAIN:

This is a very Beetlebabes-centric post, so if you don’t like the ship, please feel free to scroll away. <3

Beetlejuice cut Delores’ ring finger off, and while it was originally a fun joke in the first movie, there’s deep implications about that action when we look at it with the context of the second film. Beetlejuice attacked her after she betrayed him. Anyone would want to kill the person that poisoned them, but the fact that he took the time to find her finger and deliberately cut her ring finger off (and ONLY that finger) reflects how much that marriage meant to him. It also symbolizes that he’s effectively dissolving their marriage. He’s cut off the physical representation of their love and taken the ring, which he tries to give to Lydia hundreds of years later. He held onto that ring for centuries in hopes of finding someone he deemed worthy of it.

He calls his dynamic with Lydia a long-distance relationship, which could’ve been a throwaway joke if not for the fact that when he clearly notices how hot Janet is, he never talks to her or gropes her like he did with Barbara prior to meeting Lydia. Keaton said BJ wouldn’t be politically correct, so this isn’t to reflect the current political climate, but rather to reflect BJ’s motivations.

Beetlejuice was jobless at the start of the first movie, and in thirty years he’s built a company for his bio-exorcisms. Coupled with the picture of Lydia on his desk, it’s possible he did this to impress her. After all, she’s famous and rich now. BJ’s gotta step it up, y’know?

Probably overheard the convo between Lydia and Rory and deliberately bugged her at that time, because if he can possess the phone or whatever, he can probably use it to eavesdrop. This can be further supported by how he got rid of the influencers but kept the people that mattered to Lydia present—Delia and Astrid.

We can also assume he overheard the conversation where Lydia said that Rory loves her and that has to be enough because of the panning to a gravestone. BJ has a special fascination with graveyards, even tiny model ones. If he did overhear them, it explains why he used the truth serum on Rory. He’s testing him. He wants to see if this guy actually loves Lydia or if he’s using her, and then he gives Lydia the means to exact revenge on Rory rather than doing anything himself.

Lydia spends half the movie being strong -armed into a marriage with Rory, and in a way, it’s reminiscent of the first movie’s marriage attempt. Rory dangles their “love” in front of her like a carrot, and if she doesn’t want to be alone, she has to accept his manipulation and agree to get married. Yet she immediately offers it to Beetlejuice, only sounding annoyed rather than terrified. And the movie spends a lot of time proving that BJ has sincere motives this time around, whereas Rory doesn’t. It pushes an underlying message that if one of these guys is going to be a better choice, it’ll be BJ.

Despite Lydia having a tendency to back out of their deals, he still helps her first. He prioritizes saving Astrid even before finding his “runaway bride” again.

Casually calls Lydia the love of his life, looks so sincere when he says he’ll make her so happy. Clearly spent those 30 years planning that dream-dance sequence.

He doesn’t seem to care that Lydia’s sending him away. That coupled with the end scene illustrates how confident he is this time around. Lydia is still stuck with him, and even if he didn’t get her this time, he will eventually. But he also knows how spooked she is by marriage after being a snoop, so it’s possible that he’s just taking it slow on purpose.

In conclusion: Beetlejuice genuinely does want to be with Lydia and care about her. His feelings have evolved beyond permanent residence in the mortal world. If anything, if he still wants that, it’s so he can be by her side.

[corrodedbisexual]

@waning-croissant well... I had to.

"Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no hero," Eddie talks as he keeps walking, a step ahead of Steve. "I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that's what I've learned about myself this week."

Eddie's not even sure what he's saying anymore, he just knows that if he doesn't keep talking over the nightmarish ambience of this hellscape, he might actually go insane. Hearing his own voice, he can at least pretend like he's just narrating a game, and the rest is his overactive imagination. Not that he actually believes that, of course, it's just... irrationally comforting.

"Give yourself a break, man."

Steve reaches for him, but Eddie's body reacts on autopilot to an unexpected touch, practically slapping the boy's arm away. He's on a roll here, words still spilling right over the all-too-late pang of regret in his chest. It would have been nice to experience, that pat on the chest or squeeze on the shoulder, whatever Steve was going for, if it weren't for Eddie's perpetual skittishness.

"See? The only reason—"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"—I came in here was 'cause—"

"Eddie!"

Eddie's head snaps to Steve as he cuts off the rest of his semi-planned speech, which was suddenly inspired by the sight of Nancy Wheeler ahead of them. If he was the cowardly bard in the story, the least he could be useful for is cheer on the real hero of it. Give the courageous bat-biting paladin the motivation to keep fighting.

"Huh?"

"Do you ever stop running your mouth and listen?" Steve's brows are furrowed, but his tone isn't mean, and there's an amused smile playing on his lips. "You're almost worse than Dustin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie opens his mouth, lets his jaw hang for a second, and closes it again with a click of the teeth, as he processes the words he would have perceived as an insult, had he not been piecing together what the kid meant to Steve for the past several days. It was a bit of a revelation that their relationship ran far deeper than just some giant one-sided platonic crush on Dustin's part, like Eddie had mistakenly assumed throughout most of this year.

Steve takes a small step closer, the first one to invade Eddie's personal space for once, after Eddie's been doing it for the better part of their walk together. Unconsciously, like his body just decided that being tucked into Steve meant safety from the bloodthirsty bats, and the creepy vines, and that Vecna guy they could run into any minute.

"We all ran, all four of us. Just now, when we saw that giant swarm of bats in the distance, remember?" Steve speaks softly, waving his arm vaguely in the direction behind them. "Because sometimes, running and surviving is the only thing you can do."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. He just focuses on looking at the boy's eyes, like a normal person, and trying not stare at his lips moving. But then, when he pauses, Steve's eyes flicker down, and... huh. Huh. Wait, what?

"Of course you've been running. You couldn't have fought Vecna when he took Chrissy. Or Carver's crazy mob, or the entire police force of Hawkins," Steve keeps talking intently, looking into Eddie's eyes again like his gaze never wavered south. "Any more than we could fight that whole swarm. Because we'd definitely be dead now if we tried, no matter how metal you think I am," he adds with a tiny smug smile that's entirely Eddie's fault. "So there's a difference between being a coward, and acting stupid and reckless."

Steve pats his shoulder twice, then turns and keeps walking, and Eddie moves to follow him like on a tether, before his flustered brain even catches up.

"H-hey, I never said you were metal! I said what you did with that bat was metal," he grumbles, thankful for the darkness concealing his undoubtedly flushed face.

"I beg to differ," Steve turns around to tease, grinning, and pointedly tugs on his own collar. "You're the resident metalhead, and I'm wearing your vest, that does make me at least a little bit metal."

Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Harrington. Eddie's not sure what possessed him to throw that thing at the boy. At the time, he only thought of how he wouldn't survive the whole ordeal of Steve's hairy tits on display for much longer, but him in Eddie's clothes? Even worse.

"Fine," Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves his hands into his pockets, catching up to Steve in three quick strides. "Only a little bit though." He sneaks a glance at the boy; Steve's not looking back, once again on guard, surveying their surroundings with his flashlight, but the pleased smile makes its way to his face regardless.

"Doesn't matter why you jumped after us, Munson, you're here now. And don't try to act all modest when you've just saved a guy's ass. Which, by the way..." Steve turns his head to Eddie again. "Nice job with that oar. Too bad you hate jocks, you'd have made a fine hitter on the school baseball team."

Eddie gasps and grips his own chest in mock offense, even as warmth spreads up his neck and pools in the tips of his ears, thankfully hidden beneath his hair.

"How dare you, with these vile insinuations."

"I'm just saying," Steve shakes his head, laughing. "You're pretty... bat-ass, too, Eddie." He glances over again with a shit-eating grin. "Get it? Bat-ass?"

"Oh no, Steve Harrington is actually a dork with terrible puns," Eddie mumbles to himself and sighs, rolling his eyes up to the dark sky.

"Shut the fuck up, my puns are amazing." Steve elbows him in the ribs and chuckles. "You know what, I'm starting to understand why Henderson was obsessed with getting us to hang out."

What is that supposed to mean?

"He... he was?" Eddie gapes.

Another earthquake saves him from the mortifying ordeal of re-assessing the whole Munson doctrine, for the hundredth time this week. And as they hurry along to catch up with the girls, and Steve's hand grips his bicep whenever he falls behind, Eddie wonders if maybe he should just set fire to the doctrine and let it turn to ash.

[plumipal]

AAAAAOMG UR TWST OC IS SO ADORABLE?? i'm absolutely in love with eden sm (+ his design?? the star eyes and the wings are my favorite,, i wanna smooch all his tattoos!) and i hope it's okay to ask a few questions about him... (I KNOW U SAID IT WAS OKAY BUT I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE 😭 i'm genuinely interested in knowing more!)

1) does he have anyone in the twst cast that he tolerates/likes? i know he's part of the whole harem thing but is there anyone he doesn't necessarily mind being around (or even sharing with the prefect?)

2) do grim and eden have a good relationship? i would assume so since they're living both with one another but do they just get along with each other for the prefect's sake or are they actually best buds? (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

(little dumb idea but i think it would be so cute if the prefect treated the two as if they were all like a little family! eden and prefect being the two parents and grim their rambunctious kid lmao,, i would imagine the others not being so happy about it (っ‘ω`c))

3) is he okay with physical affection/pda? is he totally chill about it or would he rather shy about the whole thing? is he open to having the prefect touch his wings or his tattoos?

4) oooo any funfacts that you have about the new ramshackle resident?? just in general really if that's okay with u ofc!! ☆

aa okay that's it!! i hope my questions weren't annoying or anything! (っ‘ω`c)

Had to get one of those wheels ive seen going around where you put the oc and how they feel about the character and how the characters feel back about them, but with a twist lol (most of them are haters).

The ones he are most tolerant with are grim, ace, deuce, jack and kalim. Only one he could possible share with would either be kalim, jack or deuce, because of how he sorta is annoyed by ace.

Of course cant forget how he feels about you :) he thinks you are very very very special and he loves you a lot <3

He likes grim a lot, seeing as grim isn't one of the students that is oh so annoying. He warms up to the monster, seeing how gently you take care of grim, wanting to do the same. It feels, domestic, in his opinion.

Grim likes Eden a lot too, he has never belittled him, he has always made sure to feed grim along with Eden being very warm (and therefore very nice to sleep on). In grims opinion, he thinks you should go with Eden, cuz he is a good candidate for marriage (grim has been bribed with love, affection, and tuna).

He takes good care of the cat son, making sure he is healthy and happy.

Now onto pda. Eden are only okay with you touching the wings, the tattoo and the core, being as they are quite sensitive. The scar is still off limits, but maybe if you make him warm up to you even more you might be able to-

He loves when you help him with his wings, it's one of the best feelings out there. Fo mind that only you (and grim) can touch the wings, anyone else is off limits, ESPECIALLY ROOK HE IS FORBIDDEN TO TOUCH THEM.

Eden facts!! He has lil "ear-holes" like birds, just behind the feathers. Be careful around that part when you help him with his feathers, otherwise you might have a pouty and angry Eden on tour hands.

His eyes also glow in the dark! It's the scariest during the nightly snack runs down to the kitchen, seeing him suddenly stare at you, but you slowly get used to it!

You don't know where the extra eyes sometimes come from tho...

Also some general facts about Eden!

Dorm: Ramshackle

Birthday: 1/1

Age: ???

Height: 185cm

Fav subject: alchemy

Hobby: cleaning in ramshackle, birdwatching

Likes: you

Dislikes: Loud noises, blond 3rd year hunters named rook hunt, people trying to grab onto his wings that aren't you

Fav food: he don't need to eat to gain sustenance, bur he likes mashed potatoes with gravy

Least fav food: soup, any soup, he hates it

Btw if anyone were to write for Eden I would explode it would mean the world to me

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Princess

Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader

Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.

Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.

Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.

He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.

My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.

"Michael," I say.

Silence.

"Mike."

Nothing.

I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.

"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.

"I don't sleep well," he says.

"Neither does the baby," I say.

Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.

"Michael-"

"Don't call me that," he interrupts.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.

Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."

"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.

"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.

"Which one?"

"Both."

We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.

Year long lease. Joy.

-Tuesday-

"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.

"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.

"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.

"So am I, I'm sorry!"

There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.

"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.

"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.

His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.

"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"

He stammers. "I-I have."

"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."

As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."

I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.

"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.

Oh, motherfucker. It is on.

-Wednesday-

It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.

"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."

"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.

"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."

"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.

"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.

"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.

A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.

"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.

"Not my mess," he says.

"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.

"Don't slam my door!" I say.

"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.

"Problems?" I ask.

"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.

"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.

"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.

"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.

"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.

Fuck.

"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.

"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.

"Is not!"

"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.

"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.

"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."

My jaw drops in shock.

"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.

Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.

"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.

I blink. "What?"

"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."

Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?

His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.

"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.

"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.

Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.

-Thursday-

"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.

"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.

The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.

The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.

"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."

Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.

Should be.

Wasn't.

The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.

"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.

Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.

"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.

-

I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.

"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.

"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."

More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.

"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.

"Nick," I say.

"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.

"Canadian," I say.

Mike nods. Sip. Silence.

"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'

Mike looks at his drink in thought.

"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.

"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."

"Just bored?" Mike asks.

"Just bored," I confirm.

Sip. Silence. Thinking.

"You... do that regularly?" He asks.

"I mean... I like sex," I say.

His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.

"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another sip. He finishes his glass.

"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.

"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.

Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.

"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.

There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.

"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.

"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."

This comment stings. Deeply.

"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.

"Oh?" Mike asks.

"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.

"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."

"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.

"Says who?" He asks.

"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."

"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.

I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.

Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.

"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.

"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.

Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.

...

...how easy is Mike to swallow?

-Friday-

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.

Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.

"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?

Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.

"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.

Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.

"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"

I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.

"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.

"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.

All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.

The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.

Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?

But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.

"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.

"Oh?" Both of them ask me.

"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.

The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.

"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.

"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.

My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.

"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.

Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.

"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.

"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.

Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.

I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"

I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.

His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.

"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"

He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.

"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.

"Make me," I taunt.

He blinks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.

"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.

"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.

Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.

"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"

It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.

"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.

"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."

I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.

His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.

"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."

I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.

His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.

"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.

"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.

"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.

"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.

This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw.

"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.

"Say what?" I ask.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.

"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.

"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."

I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?

It's not fair.

"I'm yours," I say quietly.

"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.

"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.

"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.

"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.

"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.

"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."

"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.

He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.

I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.

"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."

He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.

"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"

"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.

"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.

A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.

His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.

"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.

"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.

"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.

"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.

"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.

"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?

"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."

"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.

"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."

"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.

"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."

"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"

His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"So you want me, do you, princess?"

I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.

His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.

He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.

"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."

"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.

"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.

His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.

"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."

I lick my lips and nod lightly.

"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.

"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."

Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.

"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.

"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.

"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.

A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.

"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?

...Fuck me, I have problems.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.

Masterlist

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me, You Miss Me

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

@mc-i-r is writing another version of this and tagged me and my brain woke up, so here ya go. This is almost all dialogue, and my new love for Mrs Buckley.

----

"Hey Steve-o! Get in here!" Robin yelled.

"Thought you were talking to your mom?" Steve shouted back.

"I am! That's why you have to come here! The cord won't reach!"

Steve hauled himself up from the corner of the kitchen where he was reorganizing things for the third time since they moved in last week. There was a pile of boxes they really needed to open in the hallway, and his mattress was still against the wall, but he kept going back to the kitchen, trying to make it work despite there being only one pull out drawer. One. They noticed before they signed the lease, but they both assumed they could make it work somehow if they just tried hard enough. But. Third time's the charm.

Flopping onto the thrifted couch next to his best friend, he leaned against her head, and greeted, "Hi Mrs Buckley, how are you?"

"Now why can't you answer the phone so politely, Robin? Who raised you to be so impolite?"

"Yeah, mom, I know you love Steve more than you love me, you tell me every time you talk to him, now can you say it again please?"

"Yes, well, like I was saying, I don't really know why they were all so upset about it, but I didn't want to overstep, so I didn't tell them anything. Not really. Only that you had moved and that you were fine. It's not like that's a secret. Then I noticed that they didn't know about that and so I didn't answer the rest of the questions, which really only made them more upset, but I think they were upset with me, not with the pair of you, so that's perfectly fine, none of them were nearly as vicious as Robin was when she was fifteen and decided she--"

"Mom!"

Steve giggled. Robin's rambling came from her mother, that was certain, and it was worse when they were on the phone. They fed on each other's talking. Like that snake thing.

"Right, yes. Well, Steve, like I told her, those boys, the ones you used to babysit for, they came around to ask if I knew where you were," Mrs Buckley finally said.

Robin grabbed his hand with the one not holding the phone, and pressed her forehead harder against his as they crowded the handset. Steve didn't think he'd reacted, but they didn't need anything as boring as a visible reaction to know each other.

"They said that they went into the video store and saw someone new at the desk, and when they heard that the two of you were no longer working there -- Apparently that manager of yours had some unpleasant words on the subject. You know I never liked him? The first time I stepped in there he asked me if I was still married? Not like that, of course, but it was still very strange. I didn't like it. And according to Robin he was always like that, wasn't he, Steven?"

"Yeah, he was pretty weird," Steve answered numbly.

"Well, that Keith fellow told them you were no longer employed there and that curly haired one demanded to know where you were employed. Since its not like he knew even if he would have told them, those boys went looking for themselves. I guess they went to your house first, Steven, and must have seen the for sale sign. I don't know what your parents are thinking, selling with the market like it is right now, but no one has ever made either of your parents listen to a single word of sense in their lives."

"Mom, the point?"

"Yes, sorry dear, like I told Robin, eventually it must have occurred to them that the two of you would be in the same place and thought to come by. Well. I say come by. First they called, and your father, you know how he is, simply said you were no longer in residence and hung up on them. He thinks he's so funny. Oh! Make sure you remember to call next Tuesday to congratulate him. It's his first day as the lead manager in the office. Oh no, wait, does it count as long distance for you? Never mind, I'll place the call so you don't have to worry about it."

"Mrs Buckley? You were saying something about Dustin?" He was proud that his voice was steady. They left Hawkins eleven days ago. They started packing two weeks before that. His parents put the house on the market around the same time. It wasn't until today that they noticed.

"Yes, that's the one. So Dustin didn't take your father's humor well, and he and his friends came by earlier this evening."

"Wait, evening?" Steve interrupted, "It was dark? They were biking around in the dark? In this weather?"

"Oh goodness no, that young man drove them. The one that was in the papers that the pair of you helped last year. He was much more polite than they were. Well, once I told them that you'd moved, they all started shouting over each other, I was sure that Ms Wickley was going to come over and scold them."

"I'm sorry, ma'am--"

"Oh you don't need to ma'am me Steven, I've told you that."

"Mom, he was just trying to be polite when he asked you to please get to the point, so can you, you know, try to get to the point some time tonight. You're paying for the call, but jeez."

"Oh yes. Well it occurred to me while they were all shouting that if they were your friends like they were saying, they would have known that you were moving. So when they managed to calm down enough I could hear a thing I said, I refused to tell them anything else. It's none of their business if you don't want it to be. And that Dustin boy said that you were his best friend, right in the same sentence he said he hadn't seen you in a month. But, I wasn't entirely sure if I was wrong about it, so I did promise I would ask you if you wanted me to pass on your information."

"Good job, mom, you finally got back to it. This is why I had you come over here, so you could hear that last part. I should have just asked you. Do you want my mom to give them our number or address or anything?" Robin had rolled her eyes over her mom's rambling, completely unaware she was just as terrible. But then she stared at him, concerned and outraged and protective and sad. God, he didn't know what he'd do without her.

"Did they ask?" Steve said.

"Ask? I don't think a single one of them knows how to ask anything. They certainly shouted a lot of demands. If you don't want me to tell them, I have no complaints about being the villain in this story. After everything you've done for my girl, being there for her before she even told me, and now making sure she's safe from any kind of trouble up there, you're such a perfect - what was the - beard? I think that's what I saw in that article in that magazine. Oh, no, the Zine, I ordered. But even without all that, I'll happily shut the door in their faces every day for a year if that's what you want done."

Steve's next breath stuttered, and that was all Robin needed to see.

"Hang on mom, I'm going to put the phone down, don't hang up, we'll be back." She sat the handset on the couch, then dragged a throw blanket over it to muffle their voices completely.

"You okay there or do I need to make a snap decision about which is going to be our household's vomit bowl?" He pushed her shoulder half-heartedly. "Okay, yeah, we both know it's gonna be the one with the cow on it. But you okay there, Stevie?"

"I'm fine."

"No you aren't."

"I'm fine."

She gasped, "You would lie to your soulmate? To her face?"

"I'm not! I'm fine! I just... I don't know, Robs."

Robin watched for a second as all of the muck of emotions bubbled inside him. Then she, as she always did, understood him.

"You want to say no. You want to tell her not to let them know where we are, but you're also freaking out because the brats come find you whenever It's back."

And because for a second, he desperately hoped that they missed him, or wanted to call so they could apologize for the last months. She didn't need to say that part. He half shrugged, sort of nodded, and bobbed his chin towards the throw blanket.

"You sure, Dingus?"

"Yeah."

"Is it gonna be Hopper or Joyce?" she faux wondered as she grabbed the phone from its prison. "Mom? Hi, back. Yeah, thank you. I'm gonna hand the phone to Steve now."

She didn't move away, but she didn't share the earpiece.

"Hi Mrs Buckley. I guess I -- could I ask a couple questions first?"

"Of course dear. What would you like to know?"

"Did any of them say anything weird or really specific?"

"Like what?"

"Like, about the mall, or last spring, or, bats, or uh, did they say anything about their dungeons and dragons game?"

"No. Why would they?"

Steve forced his shoulders to relax. El said it was done, but four years of it coming back meant he'd never fully trust that as true.

"No reason I guess."

"Well. That Munson boy did ask me about a radio right at the end. After the others stomped back to the driveway. He came back and he seemed - well he asked about a radio. And I said you certainly had a radio in your car, but I think he may have been talking about something else. Is that what you meant?"

"Okay, uh. Yeah. Thank you. I guess."

"So what would you like me to tell them next time I see one of them? If you'd like to take your time about it, you can. They were quite worked up about it, but it's a little ridiculous to act like they were owed something if they didn't even notice you two moving. You knocked over a stop sign with that rental truck."

Steve laughed. Couldn't help it. "I really can't wait, ma'am. They'll be back tomorrow morning to bother you." He gave Robin a look she immediately returned. Even without hearing the other half, she understood how true that was.

"Of course they won't, they have school," Mrs Buckley argued.

"Yeah, just means they'll be at your door even earlier."

"Well that's rude."

"Yeah, that's them. So, um. You can be rude back if you want. Don't, uh, you don't need to answer their questions. If you don't mind that they're not going to take it well."

Mrs Buckley laughed, loud and cackling for a moment, making the phone go staticky. "Oh dear, it would be my absolute pleasure to be rude right back to them. I'm much better at it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, you know Jim Hopper?" The resounding silence promised she was giving him the same judgemental look Robin was. "Sorry, that was dumb. But can you give him our number? Not to share with them, just so he has it. And, funny story about radios, but, the one that -- that that guy asked about is in your hall closet. Top shelf, next to the popcorn tin. Give Hopper that too?"

"Certainly, anything I should tell him, or should I ask to return the phone to my ridiculous child that you're generous enough to live with so I can say good night?"

For some reason, it made him think about the returns box at the store. A handle pulled open, the movie dropped inside, and nothing else needed. No one had to explain why they were giving back their copy of Breakfast Club. They had it for a while, hopefully they enjoyed it, and then when it was done, when they didn't need it anymore, or when it was overdue, when they kept it longer than they should have, costing them more money to keep around than it was worth, when they decided they were done with it, they didn't write a letter and explain why they--

"No. But, just. Tell him its for emergencies or something. Thank you, bye, or, goodnight ma'am, Mrs Buckley, uh, here's Robs. Bye."

He climbed off the couch as he shoved the phone at her, and headed for the window in his yet to be unpacked room. Rob would kill him in his sleep if he had a cigarette, but if he had any, he'd have taken the risk.

The glass was so cold it was painful against his forehead when he leaned into it, and he watched the little flurries of snow on the street kicked up by the wind. They didn't even notice for a few weeks. They'd quit Family Video a week before they left, and he knew the kids watched at least a few every weekend. They must have gone in, multiple times, and just, not noticed. Or not cared.

He wasn't sure which of those was worse.

He wasn't sure why it hurt when he made his peace with it weeks and weeks ago. It hadn't ached so vividly since the fall. Worst of all was the shock of concern for them, thinking they were out on their bikes in the dark and the snow. Then the relief that Eddie drove them. The feeling was huge enough to eclipse anything else until he knew they were safe.

Hadn't seen them in a month, barely seen them before that, and his first instinct was still to drop everything and grabs his keys. He was two hours away, and his brain was itchy to go drive by and check on them. They didn't need him to do that. They didn't want him to.

And based on how his stomach lurched when he heard that they didn't know he'd left, he didn't think it would do him any favors to go back. Hop and Joyce knew how to handle them if they started to do anything too risky, and the kids were practically glued to Eddie's side.

They weren't his to look after.

"Stop staring out the window like your lover is lost on the moors," Robin complained, wrapping him in a hug from behind.

"I have no idea what that means, Robs."

"Good, I'll explain it to you. Come on, lets go, we've got a kitchen to reorganize. I already started stuff for popcorn and hot chocolate. Lets gooooo, you're too heavy for me to carry, hup two."

Steve snorted and let her drag him away.

"I thought we were going to get my room set up, so I wouldn't have to share with you again?"

She gave him that look. That one that was fond and frustrated and sassy as shit. The one that said she wasn't going to let him get away with being dumb, but wasn't going to call him on it.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. You can share with me for a while longer. Now do the hot chocolate, and don't skimp on the whipped cream. We bought that can on sale and its going to go bad any second. Just use all of it. Directly into our mouths if we cant get it balance on the mug. Don't want to waste it, and we deserve it. I'm on popcorn duty, and then we're going to defeat this puzzle, Harrington. We outsmarted the Russians, we can outsmart the dishes!"

Shit. He sniffled as he followed her orders.

He was so damn grateful he still had her.

-----

Next>>

Still don't do tag lists. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[hauntdoesthings]

let's talk about: Husk

Husk is a character that I see a lot of love for, but not a lot of discussion about, at least not the same way we talk about Angel Dust or Alastor, so I'd like to start the conversation since I've noticed certain details about him during a rewatch.

How He Socializes

Husk puts it best himself; "Everybody likes to bitch to the bartender." He knows more about everyone than anyone else, whether they tell him or not. Not only is he the one people turn to vent to at their lowest, he has incredible skill at reading others. It's most likely something he picked up as a gambler, but we can see he still utilizes it to read the other residents, like knowing Angel shouldn't be getting drunk after his long shift and realizing when he's masking right afterwards.

On the other hand, reading people like this doesn't seem to fit with his character in earlier episodes. In the first episodes, Husk makes it very clear he doesn't want to at the hotel and by extension doesn't want to be around the residents. His first line is literally about how he's forced to be there and pretty much all of his screen time is spent being anywhere from unfriendly to outright aggressive towards the rest of the cast. He surely doesn't care enough to read people to get closer to them, so why does he? I believe it's either a subconscious behavior or possibly as a defensive measure. Like in a poker game, he reads his "opponents" to stay ahead of them while keeping his own cards close to his chest.

It's already clear Husk values his boundaries when watching his earlier interactions with Angel, but this combined with other behaviors makes me think he's a very defensive person in general. His body language is constantly closed off, often crossing his arms or physically being separated from others behind the bar. This could just be indicative of his surly personality, but there is a specific behavior makes me think more of it. During my rewatch for this post, I realized Husk has a tendency to hug himself during certain moments of discomfort, like the entire first trust exercise in episode 3(more on that later), and during his first argument with Angel in episode 4, he actually shields himself with his wings when AD insults him before leaving.

Speaking of, episode 4 is really a great example of how Husk view others, especially since this is when his mindset finally shifts.

It's easy to see how dismissive Husk is of AD during this episode, with his constant reiterations of how "fake" he is and even saying that he'll be fine after running out despite knowing that he's had a hard night. Looking a little closer at his mannerisms though, it's clear that he cares more than he wants to let on. He insults the scripts and setting of AD's video rather than his acting and even says that that's specifically what Angel tends to complain about. Even when Valentino sudden calls up AD, Husk's face is more upset than "I told ya so." He realizes that Angel is unhappy with his work, but at the same time, he doesn't think too deeply about it.

Husk assumes that because everyone tends to spills their guts to him while drinking, he knows all he needs to about them, and he's correct to a certain degree; however, despite everything he knows, he doesn't appear to think too deeply beyond what he can easily glean. Charlie wants to help others so she doesn't have to help herself, Vaggie projects her self-hatred and high standards onto those around her, and Angel bullshits his way through everything because he's an actor who doesn't know how to be real. Husk realizes these things easily, but not why the others are this way, and it especially shows during his confrontation with AD, as when Angel finally snaps and reveals his true motives, Husk is visually taken aback.

He's so used to knowing and analyzing people easily that this sudden, truly heartfelt moment from Angel makes him rethink how he's been going about their interactions, how he's been thinking of him this whole time. And this is the moment that makes him decide to open up about his own past. Whether it was seeing that common thread between himself and Angel or possibly a realization that he won't accept help from someone who doesn't offer any input of their own, this is the first time we really see him offer any of his private, personal life, and afterwards, there's an obvious shift in how he treats Angel and everyone else.

"Loser Baby" is the first time we see Husk willingly initiate physical contact onscreen when he's always be visibly tense and uncomfortable at even most mentions of it, though most of that was AD being suggestive so it could be an issue with sexual intimacy than physical. He's comfortable enough in episode 6 to go clubbing with the group and genuinely looks like he's enjoying himself, especially compared to when he went to keep an eye on Angel in episode 4, even helping look out for Niffty when needed and supporting Angel after standing up to Valentino. In the lead-up to the Extermination, there's not a single insinuation that he would've left the hotel, choice or not, and he is with the rest of the cast during all the important moments of the battle, from Sir Pentious' death to the ending number. Even when Alastor is presumed dead, even if he assumed Alastor wasn't really gone, Husk could've easily run off during his absence, but he sticks around to help rebuild, undeniably of his volition, wanting to help his friends and possible family.

That note also brings me to something I've really been wanting to talk about:

Husk and Alastor

Unless we see a shift or get new knowledge about Nifty, Alastor and Husk have a really unique relationship both in theory and as evidenced. Husk is a former Overlord, presumably from before Alastor's rise if he was willing to bet his soul in a game with him. This opens up a lot of questions for me, mainly about what their bet entailed, what led Husk to making it in the first place, and if there's a certain respect between them. Yes, Alastor refers to Husk as his "pet," but Husk also comes to him with his suspicions about Mimsy and it can almost be read as worry. Alastor even responds that "it's nothing [he] can't handle." There has to be a certain level of trust for someone to bring up "hey, that friend you've known for decades only ever comes to you when they need something" and have their concerns taken seriously, even if Alastor's care for others is negligible at best. This whole scene seems to be showing that despite their deal, their past as equals has not been totally forgotten by either of them, leading to a certain understanding of each other that neither, particularly Alastor, have had with anyone else up until now.

The biggest reason I bring their relationship up though is Alastor's deal. With all we've seen, I believe Husk is the one character besides Alastor himself and whoever the other party is that knows about the deal and its possible connection to Alastor's disappearance.

For one, Husk is the one that confirms Alastor is "on a leash" in the first place, and he shows no surprise that Husk knows. Alastor is definitely not the kind of person to let anyone know about something like that no matter how close they are, so this makes me think either Husk had to know or that he was possibly there during the deal.

It also stands out to me the specific phrasing that Husk and Alastor use during the scene.

"You've been gone a long time, and it's not like anybody knows why." "They don't need to know!"

This kind of phrasing makes it feel like Husk is specifically being excluded from that group by both himself and Alastor. If it's true that Alastor's deal is the reason he disappeared, then Husk knowing about both the deal and why Alastor's been gone lines up perfectly. Maybe Husk will be the one to reveal more about this to the audience or even the rest of the cast later on, but it's clear that he does know more than anyone not directly involved and at this moment is the most likely to talk about it, assuming Alastor doesn't immediately tear him a new one for it.

Little Details

Last section, I promise. This is just some little details I noticed while rewatching for this that didn't really fit in anywhere else and questions/speculation about them.

Remember how I mentioned Husk hugging himself earlier? The first time I noticed this was during episode 3 when, after seeing the stage, he declares "I'm not about to put on some show for these fucking chumps." Not sure how much of everyone's backstory is still canon, but it was stated that Husk was a magician during his life, so maybe this is hinting that he has some stage-related baggage?

Also during episode 3, we see Husk sneak down the stairs before Vaggie can toss him off the roof in the warzone, and since he didn't come back up with Angel and Pentious, he presumably left before they made it out. However, at the end of the episode, he's laughing with everyone over the events of it. He comments that SP can "take a beating like a champ" and "you did ok, new kid," so was he just pretending like he was there or did he just hang out on the sidelines and watch? Husk wtf?

Husk specifically says that AD's video is "not a very convincing interrogation scene." Does Husk have experience?

When the bartender pours drinks for the gangster getting Angel a refill, Husk immediately watches the drinks themselves, before the guy even reaches for that little bottle. He's a bartender, he's probably seen too many people have their drinks fucked with to the point it's just an instinct now.

He was ready to square tf up when Valentino hit Angel, but waited until Angel walked away instead of jumping in like in episode 4. He really does trust him to take care of himself and was ready to back up whatever he did.

During "The Show Must Go On," it's minor, but Husk actually tucks his wings around the group hug and it's aasfjkdsajfd

For those who've made it this far, thank you so much for listening to my overthinking and ramblings. Please feel free to ask about anything incoherent, add on to anything, or point out things I missed, I'd just really love to get the discussion started on some of these things!

[discordiansamba]

Azula visits him in his cell.

He knows she's coming before she arrives. He can hear the guards at the door try and dissuade her. His sister snaps at them, angry. How dare they stand in her way, when she knows that they let Mai through. They relent, and Azula steps into his cell.

She crinkles her nose at the smell. He's less filthy than he was before thanks to Mai, but only just. She meets his eyes- and for just a moment, her breath catches. Zuko's tempted to start growling, just to see what would happen. The dragon goads him on, but he decides against it.

"What do you want?"

She obviously didn't expect him to speak. When he does, she exhales, and she's back to the normal Azula.

"I see you're back to your usual self," Azula observed, "-I suppose we have Mai to thank for that. I hear she's been visiting you."

"Upset you'll have a harder time executing us?" Zuko asked. "Or is father the one who plans to do the honors?"

Azula flinches- it's obvious that she didn't expect him to know about that. He doesn't blame her. She must have assumed he didn't have the presence of mind to understand anyone when he'd been paraded through the Caldera like a chained beast.

(He had been, he supposes.)

"Father, of course," Azula recovers, "-it's only fitting that the Fire Lord should slay the last of the dragons."

Zuko bares his fangs. "What makes you think we'll go down so easily?"

Azula huffs, and rolls her eyes. "You should just make it easy on yourself, Zuko. I would think you'd be grateful to be released from your miserable excuse for an existence."

Yeah. He can't deny that some small part of him still longs for that. But he thinks of Uncle, and of Mai- thinks of his friends. They'd all seen him at his worst, but they accepted him anyways. And she's right- if he dies, the dragons really will be gone. He's spent years chafing at the confines of the prison that is his body, but maybe it doesn't have to be one.

Azula never looks him in the eye anymore. He levels his gaze with hers, but she takes it as the challenge it is, and doesn't look away.

"And what would you do," Zuko said, "-if it comes for you next?"

His sister pales. He shouldn't be enjoying this. He's not stupid- he figured it out a long time ago. He knows Azula blames herself. She hadn't known the consequences when she'd shoved him into that cave- she'd only been six. She was just playing a petty, jealous prank. All she'd wanted was to go back to the villa and lap up mother's attention for a few hours.

He also won't lie to himself. He blames Azula- but only sometimes. She was just a child. They'd both been children. But he also can't pretend that he's not bitter, vengeful in a way that has nothing to do with the spirit that took up residence in his skin. She'd taken everything from him- just like her namesake had taken everything from the dragon.

"Don't worry," Zuko promises, "-when you're running a fever that high, you don't even notice your body twist out of shape."

"Shut up," Azula snaps, "-I would never let that happen."

"You wouldn't have a choice," Zuko says, "-did you think I did? You can't fight something like that. You'll be lucky if the dragon decides to ever give you your body back. It's not like Uncle's here to guide you."

(He's not quite himself right now, otherwise he would never be saying these things. But he doesn't stop. He holds the dragon at bay, but only just.)

"Be quiet," Azula hisses, "-I would never become like you."

"No, you won't," Zuko agrees, "-because I don't intend to die."

Azula stares at them for a long moment, then clicks her tongue. She leaves without another word, and Zuko exhales. He shakes off the dragon, its whispers falling back into silence. He feels like he's finally won, but it doesn't feel as good as he hoped it would.

He doesn't hate Azula. He can't.

(It was as much a warning as anything else. Killing him would only free the dragon- and leave it free to search for its next host

Who better than Azulon's very namesake?)

[sparkplug02]

My take on the Final Fifteen

To Aziraphale, I don’t think the choice was “stay with Crowley on Earth” or “leave Crowley for Heaven.” I think the choice was “go to Heaven with Crowley” or “go to Heaven without Crowley.” In other words,

“No” wasn’t an option (to Aziraphale) (gif is not mine).

From the coffee shop scene where the Metatron orders coffee from Nina:

Metatron: “Do people ever ask for death?”

Nina: “What?”

Metatron: “The name of your establishment, ‘Give me coffee or give me death’ - I assume they always ask for coffee?”

Nina: “They don’t ever ask for death, no.”

Metatron: “I don’t suppose they do. So predictable.”

Death isn’t an option. “No” isn’t an option. Not to Aziraphale, who goes along with Heaven as best he can.

With Job, there was wiggle room to bend the rules and interpret things in Job’s behavior. Aziraphale lied but he didn’t outright refuse anyone. Technically, Crowley was the one who made the trick happen. Aziraphale only affirmed it.

During the Final Fifteen, Aziraphale had effectively just started a war. To quote Crowley, “Heaven won’t like that.” Then Voice of God personally came down and, rather than issuing a punishment for using his halo, the Metatron told Aziraphale he would be the new Supreme Archangel.

If God (or God’s voice) says so, then it must be. Aziraphale IS the new Supreme Archangel. The Supreme Archangel must reside in Heaven, so Aziraphale will go to Heaven. For an angel, there is no choice in that. I doubt it crosses Aziraphale’s mind that refusal mighty be an option. There is no option.

Aziraphale’s time on Earth is up. Maybe that is how he sees it. Nothing lasts forever, and he has to go. I doubt he wants to go alone though.

(gif still not mine)

If Crowley came with him, that would make Heaven more bearable. Making Crowley into an angel again might not be an “I can fix you” but a “this is the only way we can stay together.” It is not within Aziraphale’s new jurisdiction to refuse the call of the Lord, but it is within his jurisdiction to give a call of his own. I doubt any angel has the power to make a demon an angel again, so the Metatron was probably banking on the fact that Crowley doesn’t trust Heaven and would never willingly return there, but I also doubt Aziraphale knew that.

If you approach this from a perspective of no alternative, no choice for Aziraphale to stay or leave, only the choice for Crowley to join him or stay behind, then the response to “tell me you said no” was a very honest and genuine “I couldn’t.” Not because Aziraphale values Heaven over Crowley, but because he has no choice in the matter. He IS going to Heaven. He doesn’t see a way out of that.

Of course, Crowley does, and why wouldn’t he? He makes his ‘too late’ love confession, and when that doesn’t work outright, he tries to convince Aziraphale that he has a choice, that he can refuse, that he should refuse, that he ought to refuse.

One of the things I learned in a public speaking class (shoutout to Donna) is that if you’re trying to persuade someone, you can’t expect to get them to swing from one extreme to another. You have to know where your audience stands on the issue and aim to move them one, maybe two degrees towards your side at a time. If you want to change someone’s mind the easy way (talking to them instead of forcing them through an experience that changes their perspective), you have to go slow and steady. If you try to argue someone from one extreme to another, then all you’re likely to do is push them even further away from the stance you want them to take.

This was not a slow and steady persuasion. This was a last-ditch attempt at a long shot. Aziraphale had just started to separate himself from Heaven, enough that he stopped Armageddon with Crowley, but he wasn’t completely detached from them. They still sent Muriel to watch him, which implies that he’s still under Heaven’s control, even if he has gone rogue.

Aziraphale doesn’t see staying behind as an option. He cannot do it, it will not happen. He spends all that time trying to convince Crowley to come with him because that it is the only thing that will make this inevitable future bearable. He must go to Heaven, he will go to Heaven. When Crowley asks him if he said no, he doesn’t respond because this isn’t something he can say no to. It doesn’t occur to him, and he doesn’t consider any possibility…

…until Crowley kisses him.

This is only one example. He keeps turning around, keeps looking back. THAT is one step in the right direction. THAT was enough to make him hesitate, to wonder if maybe he could choose not to go to Heaven and that maybe he should. One fabulous kiss and now, all of a sudden, he’s second-guessing himself.

He still goes, but in the elevator, the Metatron tells Aziraphale about the Second Coming. Crowley figured this out earlier, and Aziraphale knows it now. That final look? Well, they both know how Crowley thinks the Big One will end. Heaven and Hell against Humanity.

In order for Crowley to succeed at stopping the Second Coming, Aziraphale would have had to stay with him. In order for Aziraphale to succeed at thwarting the Second Coming, Crowley would have had to come with him. They probably both feel like the other is abandoning them in their greatest time of need.

Here’s the thing, though: Aziraphale may be Supreme Archangel now, but he was Guardian of the Eastern Gate first and foremost. Aziraphale might stand by and watch Heaven and Hell fight, but the second Heaven turns against Humanity, ohhhhhh it’s over. He was only willing to kill Adam because he thought the rest of Humanity’s survival depended on it. He knows humans kill each other and die all the time, but the last time he’s watched a holy or unholy being kill people was the Flood, and that was God Herself doing it. If his captors fellow angels start killing humans as collateral for the Second Coming, then that will knock him over the edge.

And Heaven doesn’t want that. The Metatron gets Aziraphale in line before the Second Coming starts. If Aziraphale and Crowley team up (you know, the angel and demon who tried to subtly perform a double-half-miracle and instead produced a 25 Lazari smoke signal), it’s over. The day Heaven loses their grip on Aziraphale is the day Heaven loses.

I think Crowley’s kiss worked better than he thinks it did. It made Aziraphale doubt, and it walked him one step closer to turning around. Aziraphale’s protective Principality nature will take care of the rest, and as soon as Aziraphale realizes he has a choice, we all know the choice he will make. Crowley is an optimist. He’ll be there when Aziraphale figured it out.

He’ll be pissed off, but he’ll be there. They both will. Crowley is still on Their Side. My guess is that Aziraphale will go radio silent for an episode or so before he sabotages Heaven so bad that the only way they can recover is by teaming up with Hell. The second Crowley sees Heaven’s plan going up in flames, he’ll know his angel is behind it. He’ll know Aziraphale is on Their Side again.

[mdhwrites]

Recently, I've been poring over the 'TOH critical' tags and, as someone who wanted to properly watch the show, seeing just how many flaws the writing and characters have kinda turned me off from even starting for a bit. Before I found these tags, I would have assumed Owl House was some kind of flawless untouchable masterpiece. Now, I can see that it is immensely flawed. Not bad, but flawed. It has great ideas that it just spaffs up the walls. In some cases that I've seen, it goes against its own message, which brings me to the point of this.

The show seems to have a message of 'be a weirdo! Be who you want to be and don't let anyone tell you to be something you're not'. This 'be yourself' message is fine in a vacuum, but then there's a character who's treatment in the show goes against this. Hooty! From the moment he's introduced, Hooty is presented as a weird creature. Even other people in the Demon Realm find him unnatural. He's kinda in his own world, and he says and does things that are weird. This would work well for the message, but the problem arises from other characters' treatment of him.

Everyone fucking HATES Hooty! They loathe him! They call him names, they hit him, they put him down constantly, the works! Everyone holds him in open contempt! I wouldn't really have an issue with this at first, but Luz also takes part in some of these actions. It would be one thing for negative/antagonistic characters to be doing this, but the self-proclaimed 'weirdo' main characters? She seems annoyed by Hooty's very existence. Don't get me wrong, he IS annoying, but he's also just being himself. He's a proud weirdo and doesn't let anyone stop him from being who he wants.

Why doesn't Luz love him?

He is exactly the type of person(?) who she should feel connected with. And the fact she joins in on some of the bullying is real shitty. Keep in mind Luz was ridiculed and ostracised for being weird, so her then turning around and being all dismissive and annoyed by someone who is, for all intents and purposes, just like her is shitty.

Personally, I would have had it that Luz really likes Hooty. She admires how he's so unapologetic in his weirdness. You could even still have Eda hitting him and calling him names, which Luz calls out. She knows what it's like to be put down for just being yourself, and she's not gonna stand to see someone else get the same treatment.

Or, another idea, Luz starts out sharing Eda's view on Hooty and being annoyed by him. One time, he does something or shows Luz something he's proud of. She calls him or it or both stupid, and Hooty just....cries. I don't mean overblown waterfalls-out-the-eyes crying, I mean he turns his head down and looks visibly upset.

Luz sees that her words have genuinely hurt Hooty. This could be her realising that Hooty isn't just some weird talking punching bag to hurl abuse at. For his weird actions and appearance, he's a person too. Her being mean to him just for being himself, she realises, makes her no better than her bullies.

Then, to make this even more shitty, the characters DO start being nicer to him later on, but only after he's proven himself useful. So that's a good message, isn't it? 'Love is conditional!' It really makes the 'found family' aspect of the Owl House residents feel all the more forced.

Tl;Dr It's okay to be a weirdo, unless you're Hooty!

(But that's just me! I hope all of this made sense and you can decipher what I'm trying to say😊)

So the short answer to this is that Hooty is essentially character/thematic assassination on... Everyone? Because the show wants to say "Be who you are! Have freedom! Express yourself!" Hooty however is constantly mocked, belittled and literally hurt by others with at best an apology. People treat his portable form as gross despite that letting him experience more of life and the one time people begrudgingly acknowledge he is truly good, they then force him to promise to not repeat the helpful behavior. He is not allowed freedom, expression or to be himself without ridicule, EVEN BY LUZ.

This... However has a bigger problem. Hooty is a bit character after all. If you want to claim he doesn't matter because he's just a joke... There's okay precedent for it. The problem is that then you have to ask what he's mocking. After all, gag characters are all about mocking a certain archtype or the like. King's whole point is to mock children who think themselves as self important and point out how deluded and funny that is, or how funny a deluded sense of self grandeur in general is, at least in the first season. As such... What is Hooty?

Hooty is Sheldon. Not literally but spiritually and this is gonna get kind of rough but here me out. For those who don't get the reference, Sheldon is the main autistic representation in The Big Bang Theory. He is also the most antagonistic force within the friend group. Not because he's evil or anything but because he his own certain ways of doing things and ways he looks at things and as such actually has a lot of episodes about expanding his perception of the world and of others learning to understand who he is and why he is the way he is. The show is actually shockingly respectful in this way, at least most of what I have seen of it, and I can portray this with the best joke I can recall from the series. It also will help me later in why The Big Bang Theory is better than TOH at one certain element people REALLY want to say TOH is great about.

The setup is that the other three main dudes are at a white board, discussing plans to go so see a movie. Every plan they devise runs into a road block because of allergies, time, etc. like that, not even only just because of Sheldon's quirks. However, then the lead, the Ross of the group, stops and goes, "I see it." The others squint and look closer before he adds, "It's the only way." The other two agree... And then they all just leave without Sheldon coming with. Sheldon pauses, looks at the board and goes, "They're correct. It was the only way."

I LOVE this joke... Because it's not mean AT ALL. One might think if they're overly sensitive that it is. I mean, how could they leave their friend behind!? But Sheldon is very honest and up front about his quirks and habits. These guys know him well enough that they know better than to force him out of his comfort zone. That he doesn't function that way. Sheldon KNOWS THIS TOO. As such, when presented with the options of telling Sheldon they can't go because they can't go without him or still having a good night and not making their friend feel bad for being why they couldn't go out, they choose to go out and Sheldon agrees that it was the correct option. They respected him while still living their lives.

And this is because The Big Bang Theory's pitch is not to be offensive to nerds like many online people like to make it out to be (I fucking hate people who call it 'Nerd Black Face') but to just make fun of us like any sitcom would. Sitcoms are parodies of real life. They always exaggerated characters we know are somewhat true. We know a Kramer, we know a Ross, we know a Barney, we know a Lorraine. Are they exactly like this? No, it's cranked up so that it's a comedy, that's the fucking point. But this comedic framing also allows it to be honest about ALL sides of nerd dom.

Sheldon is BY FAR made out to be the most successful, intelligent and wealthiest of ALL the guys. Also, all the guys are doing well in their fields and monetarily. Do they have widespread fame and acclaim? Not really but they're not discredited or anything, they just have interdepartmental bickering. That's accurate from literally every scientist I have seen talk about the subject. It's genuine about the good and the bad of the nerd experience while being entertaining.

So what the fuck does any of this have to do with The Owl House? And especially Hooty? It's actually quite simple. While TOH champions having a nerd protagonist, it presents the 'gentrified nerd'. The convenient nerd. They know about fanfiction but won't force you to actually hear about it. They have interests but not hyperfixations. They don't ever get lost down a rabbit hole because they're passionate about something or just want to tell you a neat fact.

Do you know who does though? Hooty. Hooty just wants someone who is willing to listen about his day. He has some weird quirks to how he behaves and he likes some strange things like bugs. He will talk to you for hours on a subject, randomly and just because he can and might forget that you might have other things to do. To me, those are very, VERY accurate parts of nerd life... And we're supposed to fucking HATE Hooty for these things. Remember the only person, in the ENTIRE SERIES to actually befriend Hooty instead of treating him at best as a convenience is Liltih... At the start of her becoming a joke. The only person who shows him real, genuine compassion... Also becomes 'The Cool Aunt' who hyper fixates on niche architecture and has her trauma of working the EC mocked as just being really bad at her job.

It is, genuinely, kind of gross to me. I've actually talked about this before that the show is so hyperfocused on a very specific, very small set of people for who it approves of, which is essentially whoever fits into Luz correctly, that anyone who felt excluded by the show is extremely valid. And yes, Luz has a montage at the start of silly, over the top and extreme behavior... That doesn't continue. At all. The one time she subjects someone to an Azura rant is to torture Eda enough to go to the Convention and that's only because they were already on the subject because King was interested. She quotes Azura but quickly and doesn't lose the thread. She might say a cute word like 'Snorses' but not even enough to make a break in the conversation.

She is convenient. Gus is only interested in human stuff when it's convenient. Willow will put aside her interest in plants when it's inconvenient. Amity just stops giving a shit about being an intellectual AT ALL post her getting a crush. Hunter wears a wolf t-shirt and gets into Cosmic Frontier enough to cosplay it for Halloween... But only Halloween. These are people who are extremely socially acceptable in every way.

Which... explains why nerds love them actually. See, I think Big Bang Theory does deserve criticism, it is by no means perfect and I would be VERY interested in hearing what the Jewish community thinks of Howard who is easily the most problematic character in the show but not all of the criticism is genuine. I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that we're used to a side, gag character representing the kind worst parts of us... But we're not used to being the focus. We can laugh at all the broke bitches who show up in Sitcoms or the jock failures who are meatheads, etc. like that... But laugh at ourselves? Why would we do that? Why would we allow that? We're better than what this show depicts, even if we're not.

It is inconvenient to the narrative we wish to tell ourselves that we are still the outcasts. That are we not part of the dominant culture and so it is unfair to mock our interests and lifestyle. But like... Marvel movies have been the biggest blockbusters for well over a decade and no one bats a fucking at that. D&D is quickly becoming a household name due to its ever expanding influence. We are not the outcasts anymore. Being into a weird cartoon is not some shocking thing like it was 12 years ago when Bronies first made people aware that this subculture of nerds existed. Times are changing but we still wish to see ourselves as only the victims, even as more and more our spaces show that they are just as evil, corrupt, manipulative and cruel as any athletic superstar or pretty boy actor's club.

A lot of these nerds want to believe they are Luz. Never wrong, never giving anyone a reason to dislike them, and always just passionate about the things they like, never annoying. And you know who those people would mock? Who those people HAVE mocked?

Hooty. Because he's more real. He's the demon they wish they didn't have to face in the mirror. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I really do want to re-emphasize this: FUCK HOWARD. Big Bang is NOT good for the jewish community and I don't think if I watched it nowadays I would be able to tolerate his depiction AT ALL. Also, Raj is also probably all sorts of rough too. I'm ONLY defending the nerd portrayal part of Big Bang.

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And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[phoenixblaze1412]

Might seem crazy for what im bout to say…

HAI IM SORRY BUT IM NOT REQUESTING THE ORDER OF BAIZHU FLUFF THIS TIME😔🩷

But im gonna order for the regrator boys and girlies! So can we please get a pantalone x gn!reader fluffy? *cough* their first date *cough*

-🎀

No need to apologize love^^ let's go from Baizhu to Pantalone because man needs affection too.

First Date

Dating Pantalone has its ups and downs but you two were able to make things work.

With him being part of the fatui and bring the ninth harbinger, work always calls for him that it's rare for him to be at home to spend time with you, maybe even once in a blue moon.

Meanwhile you would be working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and helping out your director and friend Hu Tao that you would always be home way past midnight.

But despite rarely being able to see each other, you two would communicate to each other through letters.

And maybe a pyro fatui guard or two that would be watching you from afar to make sure you don't get hurt. They were given strict orders by the Regrator himself or else they would be the next test subjects for Il Dottore's experiments if you were to be harmed.

So to receive an invitation from your lover that you were to have dinner at Liuli Pavilion, who were you to say no.

It's literally your first date with him.

If you're lucky enough, it would also be your first kiss with him if the chance is given.

Such a shame that the only contact you two shared was simple hand holding. Hu Tao even commented at how bland your partner was for not being able to at least give you a kiss. If only she knew that she was insulting a harbinger, but you wouldn't tell her that.

You had to ask her to give you a day off just to be able to prepare for it. And Hu Tao, being the supportive friend she is, immediately pushed you out of the parlor while rambling on about to use protection if your partner decides to give you more than dinner for the night.

Once you made it back to your home, you were surprised to see a gift placed upon your bed. Opening it and looking inside, you could only stare in awe at the expensive outfit laid before you. You were guessing the outfit was custome made, there were even jewels decorating it as it glimmered under the light.

"I hope this gift finds you, my love. I expect that you wear it to our dinner tonight. I shall see you then."

You were thankful for the outfit, noticing how it matches the usual colors you would wear with a mix of purple. You were a bit curious on how Pantalone knew your sizes but decided not to question it, assuming it was simply a lucky guess.

Entering Liuli Pavilion was simple. Finding where your lover resides, is a bit difficult. Before you could even take another step, you were greeted by a familiar voice.

"It brings me great joy to see you wearing the gift I sent, darling. How I have missed you so."

Pantalone stood there before you, taking your hand in his before placing a small kiss to your knuckles.

Oh if he knew how the most simplest action he does can easily make you melt.

Leading you to your dinner table with the food already prepared. The two of you dined in, talking about how the other has been doing.

Now, we know how no one has ever seen the Regrator's eyes before. But for you, you are an exception.

As you rambled on about the things that happened while he was gone (even though he always knows what happens to you every day considering his fatui agents would report to him daily, he simply pretends to not know. He does like listening to your voice after all), his eyes glanced at your form. Purple irises tracing and remembering each curve of your body due to how the outfit he had made hugged your figure nicely.

You stopped talking midway when you felt gloved fingers grasp your chin and turn you to the side before feeling a pair of lips pressing against yours.

You were glad your body immediately responded by kissing back. Meanwhile your brain is still processing the current situation.

Pantalone is kissing you. YOU.

ANWIEJDOQJSKJQOJSOJSKJWOXJ

(Y/n).exe has stopped working...

Pulling away from the kiss, you could only sat in a daze with your cheeks flushed red.

You are definitely going to tell Hu Tao about this.

Pantalone was simply enjoying your reaction. He too was waiting for the chance to be able to kiss you. He always wondered how your lips would taste like. After knowing it now, it made him crave for more.

Once you both finished dinner, Pantalone led you to the various shops and markets you two would pass by, offering you sweet delicacies and buying you expensive jewelry. Simply pampering you with gifts that he knows would look wonderful on you.

He doesn't ignore the fact that there are various people, men and women alike, who would eye you as if you were their prey. Nonetheless, he would have his arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you close to him. Showing the world that you already belong to someone else, him specifically. Pantalone wouldn't even hesitate to use his power and connections to take care of those that would try to lay their hands on you or even dare to take you away from him.

Pantalone would make sure that you get home safe once the date has ended, he would walk you back to your home.

He already has a promise ring in hand as he slipped it onto your finger, telling you that he would be visiting you more frequently from now on to be able to spend time with you.

You think he would just leave after getting you home and placing a ring on your finger?

He would pull you towards him before kissing your lips again, making sure this one lasts more longer than the one he did earlier until you're breathless before pulling away with a smile.

"I look forward to seeing you soon, dearest. Do expect that I'll be wanting your attention whenever I visit. I do deserve it after working so hard, no?"

Overall experience of the date? ∞/10

You are definitely giggling like a school girl while telling everything that happened to Hu Tao the next day. Her also giggling and squealing along with you. Zhongli could only shake his head in amusement as he drank his tea.

[starspork]

I keep seeing people post about how Ricky September was the only redeemable Finetime resident. (hell, i’ve even seen people say that if he lived he should have been a companion) and the thing is. he isn’t any better.

Ricky is just as racist as Lindy, and i’m tired of people thinking he isn’t. We see very little of him interacting with The Doctor, but the one conversation they have about Pulse Codes is enough to show his biases.

In this scene, the Doctor explains to Ricky that he will have to enter 100 pairs of numbers in a row within a short timeframe in order to unlock the hatch. (i have seen some people say that the Doctor was being patronizing here but that’s legit just how they always have been, and he likely assumed that Ricky was on Lindy’s “i don’t know how to walk” level of intelligence)

Ricky responds with an attitude and remark that he knows about Pulse Codes. on a first watch, with no prior knowledge of the reveal, i cannot fault someone for reading this as a self assured person. hell if it was a bit more jokey it would remind me of donna and 10/14. but with the knowledge of the culture and society in which Ricky lives, it is clear to me, and others, that this was not a joke or a casual remark.

Ricky’s attitude is that of a man so assured that nothing a black person says can be of worth to him. he sees the doctor as lesser than him, and the implication that the Doctor would know about something that Ricky did not is unfathomable to Ricky.

Ricky’s detachment from the Dot and Bubble isn’t a sign that he’s the one secret good guy in a society of horrible racists and classists, it’s to show that even educated people can be racist and classist. He reads books, but they are made by a racist society and thus contain racist biases. he doesnt bother with social media, but still lives in a closed off town where only aryan young people can live, still only surrounding himself with people in a BUBBLE. Ricky may not concern himself with Dot and Bubble, but he still lives in one.

And the thing is that, he is an adult, he isn’t being held captive in Finetime. if the books he was reading were of antiracist topics, then it is still telling that he chose to remain in Finetime. His platform is “everyone”, and yet he still doesn’t use it to do any activism. Ricky September is still a racist in the way he treats the one black person we see him interact with, and his education does not make him better or more likable. if anything. it makes his racism more damning.

[bloodiedrogue]

THANKS, LASS!

SUMMARY: Rugan finally gets to buy you that drink at the Elfsong... and say his proper thanks.

PAIRING: Rugan & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,252

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), teasing, a little bit of hair pulling if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I've never written for this man in my life so if it's bad... just uh... move along, please. Also, thanks to everyone who voted for the poll! I promise I'll do more fun things like this when I'm not so sad and sick. :')

MASTERLIST

-

The pain that resides in your lower back is intense. A torturous shift of muscle and bone pushing itself in all the wrong spots. So much so that as you take that first step towards the Elfsong’s upstairs quarters you can’t help but groan at the impact. Remembering how awful it felt to fight off that horde of elementals alongside Lorroakan’s particularly brutal set of spells. 

At this rate, the only thing you can feel is the need to rest and drink. Both of which somehow manage to pull your thoughts away from the staircase beneath your feet. Or more specifically how increasingly painful each step becomes. 

“You guys still have that gold from earlier, right?” Karlach asks. She’s about two steps in front of you and barely hanging on herself. With her great axe strapped to her back, it’s a wonder she’s still upright considering she probably took the brunt of the fight. 

“Yes, why?” Beside her, Shadowheart looks over skeptically. Even though she already knows why the tiefling’s asking.

“I ran out.” 

“Of course, you’d conveniently run out of money the second we make it to the most expensive tavern in town.” Leaning against the railing of the staircase, Astarion uses one hand to steady himself and the other to flippantly wave her off. All while rolling his eyes before shooting you an unimpressed look. “I swear, all this woman does is mooch.” 

“Says the bloodsucking vampire!” Karlach retorts, prompting Astarion to scoff. 

“You know, comparing an eternal curse to a lack of financial responsibility is rather poor taste, Karlach.” 

“Yeah, well—“

You’re already turning back towards the bottom of the staircase before you can listen further, grumbling under your breath. Moving your aching hands to your face to scrub them down in annoyance as you make a beeline for the bar.

All day they’d been at each other’s throats. Bickering about the littlest things as a result of too much pressure. Even before arriving within the city limits, you could feel the tension of everyone’s problems reaching their climax. And now it was well past the point of boiling over. 

“What can I—“

“Whatever’s strongest, please.” 

Awkwardly, you shift onto one of the barstools, cringing at the pain that radiates through your spine. Trying your best to ignore the exhaustion that settles once you inevitably trade your drink for a few pieces of gold.

“Rough day, I assume.” 

You give the barkeep an annoyed nod, leaning forward to readjust your position. Attempting to alleviate the discomfort by putting more weight onto your elbows as you begin to anxiously sip. The drink overall isn’t bad for what it’s worth. A bit fiery as it slips through your lips and down your throat but still tolerable. Better than most of the shit you’ve ransacked on the road which leaves you somewhat thankful. 

“You an adventurer?” 

As you take another drink, pausing mid-sip to narrow your eyes at the barkeep you can’t help but wonder how he hasn’t gotten the hint. You’re not here to talk —you’re here to drink. To drown in the silence of your thoughts until you inevitably have to come back up for air and wander helplessly upstairs to bed. To wallow in your own pity as you try and decide whose problems you’ll have to face next in favour of avoiding your own. 

Opening your mouth to respond, you’re quickly interrupted by a familiar voice. One that’s low and Northern —a jumble of words you don’t quite catch on account of the speed at which he scolds the barkeep causing him to scoff. 

“He bothering you?”

Glancing to your left, you’re met with Rugan’s familiar eyes. All tired and blue, looking at you with an odd amount of smugness that has you holding back a smirk as you shake your head. “Not anymore.” 

“Good. Ol’ Darvin’s always been a bit shit at social cues, haven’t you Darv?” As he speaks, his volume rises, catching the attention of the barkeep once again who flips him off. 

“Oh, piss off, Zhent.”

All he does is laugh. Lending you a moment to take another much-needed sip feeling your stomach flip. 

“I see you made it back in one piece.”

“Mostly.”

“Rough trip?”

You snort in response, knowing just how unaware he is of how truly rough it’s been. “You could say that.”

“Hopefully no more gnolls?”

“Only a few.” You shrug, watching him nod his head. Noticing the way he pauses his response to take your appearance in full, his eyes darting from the faded bloodstains coating the roots of your hair to the dishevelled way your armour sits on your frame, already begging to be discarded.

“When did you make it back?”

“A few nights ago.”

“And you’ve just now decided to take up my offer for a drink? Tsk, I’m offended,” he teases, his lips pulling down into a mock frown that has you biting your tongue and shaking your head, trying to appear aloof. 

Because if you're being honest, at this moment you’re feeling anything but. Thanks to the way he continues to stare —practically drinking you in like a man devoid of hydration— it feels as though you’ll cave at any second. Something you know you can’t do because there’s work to be done.

“My sincerest apologies,” you reply dramatically, pausing to take the last few sips of your drink before sighing in relief. “Yesterday I was a bit tied up fighting a cloister of angry Sharran’s and today we had to murder a power-hungry wizard. So, the offer sort of slipped my mind if I’m being honest.” 

Unsurprisingly, that piques his interest, prompting his brows to raise and his frame to sort of shift a bit closer. “Seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?” 

“How do you mean?”

“Aren’t you meant to relax now that you’re back in the city?”

This time you laugh, throwing your head back —watching as he scrunches up his face in confusion until you eventually settle back down, wiping a stray tear from your eye. 

An act you half expect him to question considering how absurd it looks suddenly erupting into madness. How despite always acting like you know exactly what you’re doing you’ve just shown him otherwise. Granting him what little access you’re willing to release in order to pull him in. 

Which sounds ridiculous when you take into account you barely know the man. Having spoken to him on only two occasions, he really shouldn’t be trusted. Not at least until he’s proven himself an ally like others have. Instead, he should be placed at arm’s length like every other soul you’ve managed to save along the way. Looked at with fondness and curiosity but not faith. Never faith.

“Got yourself into some deep shite, have you?”

The way he smiles after he speaks leaves you questioning everything. The way your body shifts in response —the way your lungs give out and your legs move. The way everything feels warm and taut, forcing your mind to travel to places you know they shouldn’t. 

“Course.” 

“Bit of a troublemaker?”

In response, you shrug your shoulders and grin, unsure how to respond because, truthfully, you’re not. At least, not really. Sure, trouble always seems to find you as of late but obviously you don’t want it. Instead, what you want is peace. A night of no consequence or agenda. A night of song and dance and drink. A night of something other than what you’ve been constantly offered time and time again over these last few weeks. 

Which is why you don’t protest when Rugan merely changes the subject, offering to buy you another drink. Or why you fail to stop after the second or the third —pausing around the fourth to debate going to bed before eventually relenting once more, smiling at the way he pokes fun at your lack of tolerance. 

“Figured a fierce warrior like you’d be able to handle their drink.” 

By that point, your mind is exclusively swimming around him. Thinking of all the ways you could further enjoy his company after this is over. Maybe you could ask him out for another drink. Or tag along with whatever trouble he’ll most likely get himself into again. 

“Give me a break, Zhent,” you chastise, swirling the glass that now sits idly in your hand. Trying your best to tear your gaze from his, knowing that you’re drowning. Slipping further and further into those pretty fucking eyes that look and stare and absorb every single little thing you do. Every new glance making you unnecessarily nervous —a bundle of skittish thoughts and movements erupting over time, forcing your guard to quickly lower. Causing the once-severed connection between your mind and mouth to mend itself in the form of drunken rambles that have him practically on the edge of his seat. 

“You know, I kept thinking I’d miss you when we arrived,” you tell him, glancing over your shoulder to hide the stupid grin that sits across your face at just the thought.

“You don’t say.” He grins back. 

“Mhm. I kept having to tell myself not to get my hopes up.” 

“Didn’t realize you viewed me so highly.” 

“I don’t,” you immediately lie, despite knowing he’s already caught you. Thanks to his patience, charm, and heavy pockets he’s managed to earn at least one admittance of vulnerability, and knowing him that’s all he needs. 

“You know, you’re a terrible liar,” he muses, and although you want to fight him on it, you don’t. Knowing that the conversation would just lead to another ill-performed lie tumbling from your already loosened lips. 

“And you’re too smug.” 

“Well, that’s because I have to be.” 

You raise your brow. “Why?”

“Because pride gets you places. Shame doesn’t.” 

Suddenly, you’re scrunching up your face and leaning forward, placing your glass on the counter between you —moving towards the edge of your chair so that you can explore his features the same way he did earlier. 

Somehow it hardly phases him. Instead of making him sweat as it had previously done to you, you can sense that pride he’s talking about. All the underlying confidence that peaks through his pores, settling between the lines of age that reside around his mouth and eyes. It practically radiates off of him. Blinding you for a good few moments before it slowly fades behind the backdrop of something new. Something far more vulnerable, showcasing itself in the subtle way his eyes dart down towards the hand that’s suddenly found itself around his knee.

“You know, it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes,” you say, speaking to both him and yourself. Attempting to boost whatever confidence the two of you once had during the flirtatious parts of your conversation. “In certain circumstances, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” 

Looking away, you then press your lips together and go to move your hand, feeling his quickly slip over top and how it pulls you back in again. 

“This your way of granting me permission to be vulnerable, then?”

All you do is shrug, glancing down to see his fingers maneuvering your hand into his. Each digit lacing between the empty spaces of your own so that he can raise it and place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. An act that leaves you utterly breathless as he snorts and says something else. Something you don’t quite catch due to the fact that you’re already six feet below the surface, desperately trying to come up for air so that you can focus on the sound his mouth makes rather than what it might feel like against your skin. Or how it might taste after a long bout of— 

“Oi, you listening?”

“Sorry?”

All he does is scoff as he kisses your hand again, watching your mouth open and close like a fish out of water. Taking you in with each struggling breath until he can feel your sense of stability returning. 

“I said I’d really like to take you upstairs and fuck you, if that’s alright.” 

At that moment, you’re completely speechless. A silent mess of twisting expressions too scared to respond with anything remotely charming. 

As if you’ve been reduced to nothing but a follower worshipping their holy God, eventually all you do is nod and allow your body to be led up the stairs. Patiently waiting for the moment you step over that final threshold of privacy. All while internally wondering if what you’re doing is the right thing because there’s still so much work to be done. Not to mention the fact that everyone’s relying on you to—

“Aye, they can handle themselves for the night, yeah?” 

Practically reading your mind, it’s as if you’re already one. A pair of bodies so tightly wound that by the time you’ve stepped into the room, he’s already working towards that goal. 

Kicking the door closed, he presses into you almost instantly, moving his hands around your frame; lingering on the plushest parts as he inevitably slots his mouth against yours. Barely giving you a chance to think let alone breathe as he leads you to the bed. All while your hands wildly follow his in tandem, wrapping themselves around his shoulders —feeling them tense with excitement as the edges of your arms roughly knock against them on your way to hold his face. 

Caressing his sturdy cheeks as he sits on the mattress’s edge, you then feel him pull you onto his lap, prompting you to smile against him. Feeling the way he gently bites back through the hazy taste of heated ale and desperation. Suppressing the urge to moan at the impact of his teeth taking hold of the skin before pulling back.

“You’re breathing a bit heavy there, sweetheart. Everything alright?” 

You’re tempted to smack him but instead, you resort to merely tucking a hand behind his head to pull at his hair, watching his jaw shift. Feeling the tone of the room change almost as quickly as he grabs your chin. 

“Careful there. Wouldn’t want to hurt that pretty little face of yours any further.” 

For a moment his fingers feel tight against your face, pressing your lips into a pout until he eventually allows the softer side of his movements to return. Then you’re lost to the waves all over again, feeling him guide you to a standing position beside the bed. Watching intently as he follows behind, moving his fingers to the clasps of your armour. 

“Bit overdressed it seems,” he jokes, instantly making quick work of all the fastenings and ties. Starting with your chest plate before making his way down to the belt of your trousers, painfully lingering on the latter. 

“I see that pride of yours is still intact,” you say, moving in to kiss his lips. Realizing just how truly soft they are in comparison to the rest of him. How unlike the arrogance and greed that resides in his voice and hands respectively, there’s a hidden tenderness there. An Achilles’ heel that you’re more than happy to nurture rather than exploit.

Which is something you’re certain he notices based on the way everything changes after that. How, instead of things progressing solely for the purpose of shared satisfaction, they move with care. With newfound attentiveness in the form of slow, curious hands that coast the edges of your torso.

“You know, I never properly thanked you for saving us that day.”

Narrowing your eyes, you can’t help but smile at the sensation of his breath suddenly wafting against your neck. Or how his palms feel dragging down the fabric of your tunic only to tuck themselves against the bareness of your skin, resting just above your hips. 

“Didn’t you?”

Far gentler than you anticipate, his mouth sucks the skin of your neck. His teeth applying a bit of pressure before his tongue darts out to soothe the small affliction. “Not in the way that I wanted to,” he tells you after, kissing that same spot before moving lower and repeating the process. All while digging his fingers into your hips. “Not in the way you deserve.”

There’s a moment when you go to ask him what he means. Not because you’re unaware but because you need to hear him say it. To listen to him admit that what he’s doing is nothing more than an act of gratitude so that after this is said and done you won’t be distracted anymore.  

But then he proceeds to lower himself to the ground, floorboards creaking under the weight of his knees. Thumbs carefully brushing across the edges of your stomach before moving back to your belt. Looking up at you, his eyes are larger and more desperate than you’ve ever seen them before and it’s as if you're back on the shore, wondering whether or not it’s okay to dive back in. 

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

It comes out like a whisper. As your lungs fail to provide the air you need to breathe, you’re left stranded. Wafting through the waves of his hands peeling away the fabric of your dirtied clothes, the only thing that’s there to stabilize you is him. His hungry mouth and broad shoulders —his calloused hands ghosting the backs of your calves as he tentatively kisses the inside of your thighs. And in order to stop the tremors he inflicts from toppling you over, you have to reach down to grab his hair. 

Wrapping your fingers gently around the knot that sits on top of his head, you hear him hum in response almost instantly. The vibrations of his voice brushing against the edge of your cunt. Every subtle movement of his hands and mouth forcing your body to shift uncomfortably, trying your best to alleviate the pressure. 

An alleviation that doesn’t come easy. Thanks to the teasing of his lips eventually wrapping around your clit but failing to do much else. Knowing that good things like this take time. 

(And that a little bit of teasing never hurt anyone). 

“Rugan, can you— oh fuck—“

His tongue circles the exact spot you need it to. Moving languidly around before darting elsewhere and repeating the process, you can feel your insides tightening. The imaginary band within you being pulled taught as he moves his fingers up to brush your folds. Every motion working together to force a moan from your lips. The kind that makes him grin against you, forcing his fingers inside just as shifts to suck your clit again. 

Immediately, it’s all too much. An overload of sensitivities taking over your mind. Suddenly, you feel your hips blindly rut against his mouth while you tug at his hair. Forcing him to work that much harder. Making it hard for either of you to breathe because he refuses to stop.

Even when you can feel him desperately panting against you, he refuses to stop. Running his tongue across every exposed area —embedding the feeling of its efforts throughout every nerve— it doesn’t take long for you to come undone. 

In fact, it’s hardly a minute after you’ve egged him on that he’s pushed you over the edge, remaining completely consistent in his efforts to please you. To show his appreciation in the form of a suckling mouth that continues through the endless waves of pleasure. To graciously thank you over and over until you’re later left limp against his chest after the fourth or fifth round (you’ve lost count) breathing so hard he can’t help but feel smug about it. 

-

TAGLIST:

@oldanimefan @void-singer @gunslingerorchid @littleplasticrat @fistfuloftarenths @kirahlene @killerpancakeburger @charmedslytherin @voloslobotomyservice @cloverthebarbearian @my-favourite-zhent @imgoingtofreakoutnow

[notmyneighbor]

r&d | yog sothoth x female reader

part 3/?

words | 3.3k

cw | tnmn nightmare mode, eventual smut, no explicit content in this chapter, vampire bite

ao3 link

taglist | @jazminetoad @kaislashes @lakeside-paradise @paxispax @luvvxsn @barbatoss-bitch @moody-mod

“I thought you increased the dose.”

“I did. She shouldn’t be awake this early.”

You recognize one of the voices, but the other is foreign. It sounds like Dr. Afton is speaking, but that makes no sense. You’re not at the apartment building. You’re in the DDD facility. The trial. You struggle to open your eyes. Yes, that was indeed the third floor resident you’d heard. His eyes are focused on your features, narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses, brow furrowed.

“You said this one showed promise.”

“She does. None of the others have been able to tolerate the treatment while maintaining focus and sanity in this reality and, even more impressively, perfect job peformance.”

You blink slowly. Your eyes feel gummy, your lids trying to stick together. You try to find the owner of the other man’s voice but he’s out of your field of view. You can’t find the strength to turn your head, your limbs weighted like lead.

“You do realize ‘perfect job peformance’ indicates that the project is a failure if none of the doppels can convince a doorman to let them in, don’t you? How do you think that will translate into real world applications? There has been too much time and money invested in this already. I’ve got the General breathing down my neck. We need results, not promises. I’m still not convinced this new side project is going to amount to anything.”

“That’s because you’re not a scientist. You have no sense of creativity, of imagination, of patience. We are doing great work here. Pioneers of feats no one else has been able to achieve. Think of what will happen when we’re able to establish a permanent link between the two realms, when we can inhabit both. Twice the territory to conquer.”

“You’re assuming the doppels there are going to be able to be useful allies, when you don’t even have full control over the ones we already have. We shouldn’t have shared their development when it hasn’t even been proven reliable yet.”

Afton waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Nonsense. It’s been more than a fair exchange for the tech we’ve received in return. And we’re getting there. Each new unit dispatched has been showing improved progress. And the rogue ones are being dealt with accordingly.”

“How do we know the inhabitants of that other realm don’t intend to turn on us and just take over here instead?

“Imagine if everyone just surrendered because of some vague doubts. You military types are so cynical and narrow minded. You’re only to happy to reap the rewards of these trials, but you don’t want to actually get your own hands dirty.”

“My men have risked plenty,” the other man growls.

“Yes, yes. I’m not implying sacrifices haven’t been made,” Afton hastily attempts to placate the other observer. “I’m merely saying this venture requires some unconventional thinking and unusual techniques that some would question the ethics and morality of. Shortsightedness, that’s what they’re cursed with. Cowardice, really. What we’re doing here is reshaping our future. Changing our destiny,” he concludes, the fervor evident in his voice. You’ve never heard the man speak so much. He’s usually so quiet and introverted. This entire conversation you’re witnessing feels surreal.

“And what about the visitor?” This last said with clear disapproval.

“What about him?” Afton snaps. You see a blurry image of liquid being drawn up into a syringe, then hear it set down on a surface nearby.

“We should be talking elsewhere.”

“I’ve told you, the experiment’s minds are wiped clean after each session. You can talk freely.”

You bristle internally. Experiment? Is that what you are? What the hell is going on?

“I don’t trust him. He has too much unrestricted access.”

“That’s not your concern. Your superior has cleared him, and so have I. He’s been an invaluable asset in this latest project.”

“I don’t like you keeping secrets, Doctor. Not when it puts my people’s safety at risk.”

“Fortunately for you, you don’t need to like it. Your duty is to serve in the military and obey your commanding officer’s orders. I relay all necessary information to you. Besides, the rest would just be a bit too technical for you to try to comprehend.” His lips twist in a half smile that seems more condescending than reassuring.

You realize there’s something tucked into your hand. It’s difficult, but you manage to uncurl your fist. The researcher’s eyes catch the movement and flick down. He lifts the object before you have a chance to react.

“What’s that?”

Afton’s lips curve into a smile that’s sincere this time. “That, my friend, is progress. She’s been able to bring something back.”

“How?”

“I told you this one was special. You’ve got some progress to report, now,” he says smugly.

You squint, trying to discern what the man is holding. You don’t understand half of what’s being discussed. Maybe you’re dreaming. You must be. Some wild fantasy your brain has concocted. Stress relieving itself and manifesting in the form of this bizarre scenario.

A padlock. That’s what is pinched between Afton’s fingers. A slight ache resonates in your chest. There’s something important about it. You raise your arm, your fingers stretching for it. It belongs to someone you know.

“I told you she should be kept restrained until she’s transferred.”

“Relax. She’s still lethargic and as weak as a kitten. A little more Midazolam mixed into the cocktail and this will all be forgotten.” His hand closes over your wrist and pushes it back down. You can’t resist, the limb weakly succumbing, once again secured in a restraint. “Time for another nap.”

This is alarmingly familiar. You try to struggle against the bonds that have just appeared, but it’s no use. Even speaking takes great effort. Your tongue feels swollen and dry, clumsy. “That’s not yours. Give it back.”

“I’ll keep it safe, not to worry. It will need to be analyzed.” He drops the padlock into one of the deep pockets of his lab coat. “What a little wonder you are,” he murmurs softly as he leans closer. You feel a sharp pain in your arm and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. That needle felt all too real. You could even smell the scientist’s aftershave when he’d gotten closer to you just now. This vivid imagery can’t be made up. It has to be real. Which means…which means…

“Yog,” you murmur drowsily as the injection begins to take effect. That’s who the padlock belongs to, though you can’t quite put a face to the odd name.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Just babbling nonsense. She’s almost knocked out again. Tell your commanding officer I’ll have a full progress report ready by tomorrow.”

“Yog,” you manage one more time, trying to cling stubbornly to that word, but it slips free and you are lost, sinking down, down, into a void of nothingness.

***

“You know the drill.”

Oh. You’re back here. Again.

The hazmat suited cleaner on the opposite side of the window turns to leave but you halt him, slapping a hand on the cracked window’s surface.

“Hey, wait. Don’t leave yet. I want to talk to you.”

Silence meets your request. The DDD employee exits the entryway of the building and you sigh in frustration, glaring at the quartet of eyes watching you from the frame. You’ve half a mind to try poking one just to see what would happen.

“Hello, human.”

One of the twin sisters, this one as pretty and pale as the counterpart in your own world, is standing before you. She’s called Anazareth here.

You look closely at the trio of tattoos on her features, quickly counting and recounting the number of horns on her head. Accurate so far. She’s on the list and she has all her documents.

“Did you have a successful day of creating curses?” You’re not really making small talk. You want to see her teeth again.

“Yes, very satisfactory.” Sharp teeth. She’s the real deal.

“Go on through.”

You unlock the door and then seal it shut. You wish you could retain more of your memories. You’d gone back for your third appointment so willingly, so blindly, walking right back into Afton’s trap. And now here you are, the memories frustratingly clear in this world, lending you no aid for when you return to your own reality. There has to be a way to counteract the effects, somehow. A way to trigger the release of memories when you return home.

“You’re back.”

You look up and sigh again, this time in relief. The friendly vampire rests a hand against the smudged, battered glass and you match your palm to his.

“Hi, Yog.”

You hit the switch and let him inside without even pausing to check his documents first, exiting the booth just as Yog reaches it. You both hesitate for a moment before you surge forward and his arms envelop you.

“You didn’t check my ID and request,” he chides gently.

“I knew it was you.”

“Still, you should be careful.” His fingers stroke your hair. “Did it work? The jewelry…”

“Yes, it worked. Afton took it away, though. To study it.” You burrow into his shirt. There is a musky, earthy smell to him that is pleasant. “I heard him talking to someone from the military. They’re trying to find a way to establish a permanent connection between both realities. I think I’m the first one from my world who’s been successfully managing to exist in each one. It sounded like the other ‘volunteers’ haven’t been so fortunate.”

“So that’s what he’s after. And that explains where the other human visitors went.”

“He said someone came from here originally. That’s how they found out about it in the first place. I don’t know who, though.”

You feel Yog stiffen. “If I had to guess, I’d wager it’s his own counterpart.”

You draw back to look at the vampire. “Orcus? The purple guy wearing that battered mascot suit with the silver eyes? I’ve never seen that resident in person, only the picture on file.”

A knocking sound interrupts your conversation. Another resident is at your window. Lilith, now. The other twin sister. You spot the spelling error of her name immediately and call the DDD to collect the witch. The same tired rhetoric on the phone and in person. You don’t even bother trying to communicate with the cleaner this time.

As soon as he leaves, you turn your attention back to the vampire. “How much do you know about Orcus?”

He folds his arms across his chest. “Very little. He’s not social. Neither is his roommate. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn his ‘skinning’ activities aren’t what one would consider in the traditional hunting sense, though,” Yog murmurs.

You shudder at the term. “If he’s not stealing skins, what else is he after? Using bodies for something? A kind of experiment?”

“Maybe. It could be whatever Afton has been injecting you with to transport you here. That technology must have come from Orcus. Something he’s learned how to harvest.”

Another visitor interrupts again. Abducius Morail. You have to remind him to show his ID card. The entry request looks fine. He’s on the list of expected travelers. Seven stitches hold the skin where his nose should have been closed. The stretched eyelids creep you out to no end. And that smile. You shiver and return his card through the slot, buzzing him in. If he has an opinion on your security booth hosting a guest today, he doesn’t reveal it, merely slipping through the entrance, still grinning manically.

“So what do we do? I can’t remember anything when I get back. I keep getting tricked into coming here over and over again.”

Yog frowns. “I’m not sure. We’re up against more than just Afton and Orcus. The military is involved. And there’s still the doppels to deal with, too.”

“Which Afton help create. And gave that knowledge to Orcus. This is such a mess. I’d be better off not remembering any of this.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” the vampire says quietly.

“No. I don’t. I’m sorry, Yog. I’m just frustrated. Scared. Angry. A lot of things.”

“Completely understandable.”

“You’re the only good part about all of this, you know that?” You let your fingers drag across one of the red velvet bands decorating his shirtsleeve.

“You have another visitor.”

You glance at the window. Xezbet Xerbeth. The soul eater. Another resident with a menacing grin. Twin pinpricks of red are all that reside in dark eyesockets. The skin around the suture lining his balding head looks pink and raw, as if the incision had been made recently, while the scar on his cheek looks older, better healed. Not on the list, so you call to verify that he’s not at home. Drugia answers, confirming this. Everything else checks out. You open the door and then close it behind him, very aware of the resident hovering close behind you.

“I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“You’re not. I mean, you are, but. It’s good. I like it. I like you,” you add softly.

“Come see me when you’re done? I’ll be alone again.” His fingers brush your cheek.

“Okay.”

Yog bends to kiss the side of your neck, his lips grazing your throat and making you gasp. “I wouldn’t drink without permission. I take that very seriously.”

“I know. You have it. Except…it will make my time here shorter.”

“Good point. Later, then.” The vampire slips out of the booth, leaving you alone again. With those stupid eyes judging you.

***

You’ve survived another shift in the nightmare realm.

You’re standing outside Yog’s apartment now, more nervous than ever. Things are changing between the two of you. Exciting. Dangerous. What possible good could come of this? Your fingers touch the place he’d bitten you a week ago. No marks left.

It wasn’t a one way path. Orcus came through. Yog could, too. Maybe that was the key. An ally on the other side.

The door opens after you remember to knock. You duck inside, lingering by the door after he closes it.

“You looked deep in thought just now.”

“I was thinking about Orcus. His ability to visit. Wondering if you’d be able to. If it’s even possible. If it’s safe. If you’d want to,” you finish softly, your eyes lowering shyly.

“I think about you when you’re not here. Wondering how you are, what you’re doing.”

“It’s not fair. I can’t do the same. Stupid injections,” you mutter bitterly.

“I know our time together is short. So I want to make the most of it.” He reaches for one of your hands. “You want to come with me?”

You swallow thickly and nod, letting him lead you forward, deeper into the apartment. No living room stop today. You’re guided to the master bedroom. Yog releases your hand and turns on a lamp. Every window is encased in shutters that look like steel with ruby drapes over them. The same color scheme as the rest of the living space is evident in this room, too. Dark sheets and pillows. Dark dresser.

No reflection in the mirror. You’d forgotten to ask about that, the last time you’d run through the standard vampire lore questions. You stare at your image and feel his arms come around you, can see the subtle shifts in the clothes you’re wearing as his hands move, stroking across your arms, your hair stirring when he nuzzles your cheek.

“Is it hard to get ready without having a mirror to see what you look like?”

You feel his lips smile against your skin. “It takes getting used to, certainly.”

You turn in his arms, siphoning though the dark rust colored locks. “You manage pretty well.”

“Pretty well, hmmm?”

Last time you had barely brushed his lips as you’d slipped back into your own realm. Now his press firmly to yours, and your pounding heart races even faster. You can feel the sharp points of his fangs when you lips part for him, your tongue gently prodded as you explore each other’s mouths for the first time. He tastes good. Almost like cinnamon. Not metallic like you’d thought he would.

“I want to be very clear with you,” he murmurs between kisses, “that I am a gentleman and I will not force myself on you in any way. I don’t have to feed. We don’t have to…”

“Fuck?” You supply breathlessly.

A sharp inhale. “Well, yes. I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Crude?”

He shakes his head. “Naughty. I like it. Let’s get more comfortable.”

You step out of your shoes and sit down on the edge of the mattress and the vampire follows suit. His pale fingers drag over your cheeks and trace your lips and then the golden eyes are shuttered beneath a fringe of closed lids and sooty lashes as he leans, pressing you down beneath him. His mouth travels along your jaw and neck and collarbone, shifting the neckline of your work blouse to reach the stripe of bone rising beneath the skin. He samples your wrists and you wonder if he can sense how swiftly the blood is racing through your veins; if he hears it rushing like a river rapids, filled with that strange glowing substance gifted from his neighbor to one of yours that he finds so tantalizing.

His lips crush yours and you feel the intensity picking up, the neediness of each touch as he massages one breast. Your hand trails down his shirt, dipping bravely over the growing bulge in his pants and you’re rewarded with a moan of warm air above your mouth. Aurelian eyes gaze into your own. “When I take you, if—”

“—When,” you correct, your head lifting to nip at his bottom lip, and he smiles at you.

“When,” he agrees. “I don’t want it to be rushed, because of someone else’s dictates.” The vampire kisses you again. “And I will come to you, if I am able. I do want to,” he says, finally answering your musings from earlier. “We’ll figure this out together,” he promises.

“I don’t know how much time I have left. I don’t want to forget you again,” you whisper.

Yog sighs against your throat, his hips rolling languidly, pressing against your body. Such a cruel tease for what you both really want. You cup the back of his neck, holding him there, indicating what you desire.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

A sweet sting, unlike the needle Afton is so fond of using on you, and the vampire’s mouth seals against the punctures he’s created. It’s over nearly as soon as it’s begun, the creature taking less of your lifeforce this time.

“You didn’t feed as much,” you observe out loud.

“Being cautious,” he murmurs, head lifting, eyes watching your features.

“Keeping me here longer.”

His lips twitch. “Maybe a little of that, too.”

“Let me taste it.”

Yog hesitates. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Its already in my bloodstream. What difference would it make?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kiss me.”

The vampire’s cheeks and lips look flushed, rosy, healthy. You’ve done that. With so little sacrificed, you’ve brought about such a change. If only the bite marks were something you could bring with you. A keepsake Afton couldn’t take away. Something to make you remember.

“Kiss me until I disappear.”

His head lowers and he kisses you very gently. Nothing. You don’t sense any difference in the flavor on his lips. Your tongue darts out and your mouths join again. His body grinds against yours as the kisses grow more frenzied.

“This is maddening. I don’t want you to leave,” he groans in frustration, head dipping into the space between your neck and shoulder.

That strange, rocking, drowsy feeling is coming again. You’re being drawn back to your own reality.

“Yog,” you say warningly, and his face immediately reappears above yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he pleads, his mouth pressing against your lips, and then empty air.

You’re gone.

[creepy-friday]

Love your blog! The way you write the Pastas is so interesting and enjoyable, specially the Proxies (glad you took Cody in the ecuation too, cause I like him and barely anyone remembers he's a proxy too)

Since we've already seen the boys in the female proxy au, how would she get along with other girls in the residence, like Kate the Chaser or Natalie? Whether in a romantic or platonic way

Thank you!I'M SO GLAD THE GIRLS GET SOME LOVE💞💞💞

Creepypasta Ladies x Fem!Proxy Reader

You worked with Kate from a distance since she's solo on all of her missions,her job and place in the team being way different from yours and the others

You also didn't know if she liked you because you were also a woman or she despises you because you're also a woman

During meetings she would ask a shit ton of questions about you and what you did on missions until that very moment,fuck,not even Masky is all up in your business like she is

On the rare occasions both of you meet she wouldn't greet you,she would simply nod her head at you.On impossible occasions you could get a glimpse of her face behind that mask.

I believe that if you do want to engage into a deeper conversation with her she will simply listen,but if you manage to get her to warm up to you she would vaguely say a few things about herself as well

Kate might throw a nasty double sided comment or two when there are just the two of you."Managed to calm Masky down,heh?How do you manage I wonder.." ; "sorry lady,I don't have a way with gentlemen like you do." ; "might enjoy the hell of a ride as well,you know best..am I right?"

You remind her of the few good persons she used to have in her life before she was dragged here

Clockwork was into you from the moment you stepped in the mansion tbh

Loves to tease you in both a romantic and friendly way.The fact that you're a woman in a position of power in the mansion over all of those fuckers it's super attractive to her

"Tell him to go fuck himself.What he's gonna say about it,huh?" ; "I bet I can be a better match for you than the demons of the forest,gimmie a chance to prove it to you;)"

Loves a good training with you,you're the only one who can counter all of her attacks,you really set her heart on fire

"You're a top bitch here,all bark all bite.Say,what would you do if I caused shit around here?;);)" she has no shame and will flirt with you every chance she has.If you ignore her remarks she wouldn't hold back,BUT if you do give her a chance she would further step her game UP

The nurse Ann barely talks overall and only engages into business conversations with you

If you have any "lady health problems" she would be the one to have your back like her life depends on it tbh

If you look around for Jack when she's in the infirmary she would simply assume you either don't like her or have a thing for male doctors lol

"No cannibals around,just good old me." she said,legs crossed facing you.

When you tried to make small talk with her she stopped you "you don't have to force yourself.We're just doing our jobs.Besides,the tension makes your veins harder to look for.."

Zero will start shit with you every chance she has.Fighting,blaming,shit talking,you name it,she would do everything in her power to try to bring you down and cause a violent reaction out of you

Does she get along with Masky because of this?Hell naw

Is it jealousy?a love-hate relationship?it's very hard to make the difference

On some occasions,she would act all nice and sweet,super flirty with you, and if you make the mistake of thinking she has good intentions with you she would degrade the living hell out of you

Despite the others,she doesn't trust you to have all of the power Slenderman trusted you with.She sees you below her and wholeheartedly believes she should've been in your place maybe with you sitting on her lap or something

She doesn't stand Clocky but still wants to be on her good side because she sees potential in her.Natalie knows this,but her boredom causes her to engage into Zero's little games

Jane observes you from a distance.She respects your job and how you manage to calm shit down,you're really one of the few persons she could look up to if she's honest

If only you weren't so busy with proxy duties she would come forward to you and warm up more

She would adore the tought of the two of you drinking tea in her room,simply enjoying each others presence while talking about matters both of you can't control

Jane would notice if one lock of your hair isn't in the right place but she wouldn't tell you if you're closer to her,instead,she would simply gently fix it

She gives me mommy vibes

Nina sees you as her best friend,you are the one to tell if it's one sided or not.The way you move,act,and manage to do it all amazes her..you are both a mentor and a friend to her.

She could talk the whole day about how amazing you are,and she actually has a few pages in her journal with notes about you

The girl can be like that one annoying kid at the park that gives you all of their toys just to spend time with them lol

You inspire her and she genuinely believes you make her a better person-a better woman.She lets you know this and even if you don't believe her,your existence deeply had a positive impact on her mental health