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iamthedukeofurl · 6 months

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Scott Pilgrim is, I think, the best example I can think of for establishing a setting's Nonsense Limit. The setting's Nonsense Limit isn't quite "How high-fantasy is this". It's mostly a question of presentation, to what degree does the audience feel that they know the rules the world operates by, such that they are primed to accept a random new element being introduced. A setting with a Nonsense Limit of 0 is, like, an everyday story. Something larger than life, but theoretically taking place in our world, like your standard spy thriller action movie has a limit of 1. Some sort of hidden world urban fantasy with wizards and stuff operating in secret has a nonsense limit around 3 or 4. A Superhero setting, presenting an alternate version of our world, is a 5 or 6. High fantasy comes in around a 7 or so, "Oh yeah, Wizards exist and they can do crazy stuff" is pretty commonly accepted. Scott Pilgrim comes in at a 10. If you read the Scott Pilgrim book, it starts off looking like a purely mundane slice of life. The first hint at the fantastical is Ramona appearing repeatedly in Scott's Dreams, and then later showing up in real life. When we finally get an explanation, it's this:

Apparently Subspace Highways are a thing? And they go through people's heads? And Ramona treats this like it's obscure, but not secret knowledge. Ramona doesn't think she's doing anything weird here. At this point, it's not clear if Scott is accepting Ramona's explanation or not, things kind of move on as mundane as ever until their Date, when Ramona takes Scott through subspace, and he doesn't act like his world was just blown open or anything, although I guess that could have been a metaphor. there's a couple other moments, but everything with Ramona could be a metaphor, or Scott not recognizing what's going on. Maybe Ramona is uniquely fantastical in this otherwise normal world. And then, this happens

Suddenly, a fantastical element (A shitty local indie band finishing their set with a song that knocks out most of the audience) is introduced unrelated to Ramona, and undeniably literal. We see the crowd knocked out by Crash and The Boys. but the story doesn't linger on the implications of that, the whole point of that sequence is to raise the Nonsense Level, such that you accept it when This happens

Matthew Patel comes flying down onto the stage, Scott, who until this point is presented as a terrible person and a loser, but otherwise is extremely ordinary, proceeds to flawlessly block and counter him before doing a 64-hit air juggle combo. Scott's friends treat this like Scott is showing off a mildly interesting party trick, like being really good at darts. The establish that Scott is the "Best Fighter in the Province", not only are street-fighter battles a thing, Scott is Very Good at it, but they're so unimportant that being the best fighter in the province doesn't make Scott NOT a loser. So when Matthew Patel shows off his magic powers and then explodes into a pile of coins, we've established "Oh, this is how silly the setting gets". It's not about establishing the RULES of the setting so much as it is about establishing a lack of rules. Scott's skill at street-fighter battles doesn't translate to any sort of social prestige. Ramona can access Subspace Highways and she uses it to do a basic delivery job. It doesn't make sense and it's clear that it's not supposed to. So later on, when Todd Ingram starts throwing around telekinesis, and the explanation we're given is "He's a Vegan" , you're already so primed by the mixture of weirdness and mundanity that rather than trying to incorporate this new knowledge into any sort of coherent setting ruleset, you just go "Ah, yeah, Vegans".

#Scott Pilgrim

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rose-tinted-nostalgia · 16 days

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#I know life is hard and we shouldn't take it personally and we should never expect people to coddle us and blah blah #but really I would like to just survive one day without someone being mean to me #I don't even need a day of people being nice #truly I would just take one completely mundane day where I didn't get cursed out or yelled at or spoken down to #and yes I'm well aware this is partially my fault because one person in particular I surround myself with is trash #but it's not just him #my sister cursed me out and accused me of insulting her because I said I didn't agree with her on something #I didn't even say she was wrong I legit told her her feelings were valid and that it was just hard for me to see it from the same #perspective #and when she got upset i took it all back and said I was wrong and apologized and still she berated me over messenger until I cried because #I didn't know what else to say #and even though I'm sick #I got up and cooked dinner for my family and I cleaned up the whole mess and put it all away but I didn't do the dishes because I was #struggling and had to lay back down #and my mom came out and did not say thanks for dinner or thanks for cleaning up or anything of the sort #she came out rolled her eyes scoffed gestured to the dishes in the sink and said you have a mess here #and then proceeded to complain about how I didn't do the dishes #and that's stupid to let that bother me but I swear it's an every day thing and like I was so proud of myself for getting up and cooking an #cleaning up my mess because I was struggling to get out of bed at all #and still all she can bring up is the negative and no matter what i do it's always like that never a positive note #and for the record my mom lives with me for free taking over my son's bedroom it's not like i left dishes in her house it's my dishes in my #house #and ofc my son's father found a way to yell at me but i don't even count that anymore #and i'm just emotionally drained #and it feels like lately it's just an every day thing and i'm so fucking tired #I can't remember the last time someone said anything kind to me at all and that's not an exaggeration #no one ever says i love you or i'm proud of you or thanks for doing that or this helps alot or you got this or you're good at this #and I just wish someone could see something good in me for once

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bohemiandeer · 2 months

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You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

#free palestine #gaza #palestine #rafah #israel #current events #gaza strip #human rights #childrens rights #save the children #cease fire in gaza #cease fire now #cease fire permanently #palestinian genocide #support gaza #pray for palestine #ceasfire now

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

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The Love (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Warnings: I don't think there are any but correct me if I'm wrong.

Word Count: 1,323

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Y'all, I'm lowkey dying from the requests. I'm sorry for the last five or so taking so long, I just need a little break and mix in some of my own ideas if that is okay.

Alastor was drinking at the bar with Husk, Charlie, and Angel. The day had been a lot, seeing Mimzy was always a lot. Yes she was trouble, but Alastor loved her. He loved her for the same reason he was trying to drink himself stupid at the bar. He loved her because she reminded him of Y/n. Mimzy had been her friend first, after all.

He sat off to the side in his own little world while Angel and Charlie chatted and Husk obediently poured the drinks. Normally, Husk would have joined the pair in the mindless, mundane chatter but after the events of the day, Alastor's presence kept him silent.

"No way!" Charlie exclaimed.

She and Angel were talking about some TV show they both watched or another. A mind numbingly boring background noise but, Alastor wasn't complaining.

"Yes! They are one hundred percent perfect for each other." Angel replied animatedly.

"Literally how. Name one thing that shows they have good chemistry."

"Uh, they’re constantly at each other's throats? If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't know what love is."

Husk let out a short, sharp laugh as he topped off Angel's drink.

"Oh yeah? Well then, Princess, what do you think love is."

Charlie sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter as a dreamy look spread across her face.

"Love is... love is when you would do anything for the person. It's when they're your guiding star, your... your prayers answered."

"Uh, no? Love is when you want to literally kill the person but like, in a good way."

"Angel, what does that even mean." Charlie laughed.

"It means... it means there is passion. That spark everyone always talks about? It's violence."

"Hey Al!" Charlie suddenly called, leaning back in her seat to peer at Alastor behind Angel's back, "Who's right, me or Angel?"

Alastor looked up from his glass.

"I hate to say it, but neither of you are correct." he sighed in irritation at having been disturbed, "Love is neither a constant fight nor a blind devotion, though it contains aspects of both."

"Like you know anything about love, mister fancy talk creepy voice." Angel scoffed, turning to face Alastor as well now.

"Actually, I do."

Charlie's face lit up. She practically vibrated with anticipation.

"Alastor! You've been in love!?"

Normally, on a night like this, he'd be alone. He'd be careful to be alone, or at least have Husk as his only company. When he told Husk to shut up and pour, he listened. Other people, not so much.

"Yes."

Charlie had stars in her eyes. She inched closer to him.

"Are you gonna spill?" Angel asked after a moment.

"It was a long time ago."

Alastor took a long sip from his glass.

"Do you... do you not remember it?" Charlie asked, her excited smile slipping slightly at the notion

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the long day, Lucifer, Mimzy, Husk. Those shark demons. Maybe it was just that secretly all along, he had wanted someone to talk to. He watched the liquor in his glass as he swirled it gently.

"It was a long time ago, but I still remember it." his smile softened as he spoke, "It's strange. I remember her laughter, her little quixotic tendencies. I remember the way her eyes would light up when she smiled and the way her perfume smelled. I know her favorite author, the way she took her coffee, the way she folded her clothes but, I can't seem to ever see her face anymore. I..."

He trailed off, taking a breath.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Charlie quickly said, not wanting to make Alastor uncomfortable.

Alastor shook his head.

"I've spent years not talking about her. Maybe... maybe something else would be nice."

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Charlie immediately asked.

Alastor looked up at her and let out a light chuckle. He felt like he was human again for a moment. It was odd.

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I was a radio broadcaster back when I was alive. A rather famous one at that, in New Orleans at any rate. Her family ran a restaurant near the studio that I went to get lunch at from time to time. She worked there as a server."

"And she loved you?" Angel asked, "Like, you weren't just delusional?"

"I was quite the lady's man back in my day."

"Uh-huh." Angel doubtfully replied, "Sure."

"Oh hush, Angel." Charlie shoved the spider demon slightly, "Tell us more! What was she like? Did you ever get together or were you just friends? Gah! I wanna know everything!"

"She was..." Alastor's gaze fell back to his glass, "you remind me of her in a way. She was so idealistic, so driven. So... bubbly. She worked hard and she cared deeply. I don't know how I swung her, despite my charms. We were friends for about a year. The whole time, I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out but she ended up being the one to ask me. We got married when we were in our mid twenties. I only had a few years with her as my wife before I died."

Unbidden ideas darkened the edges of his mind. Y/n had always been so good, so sweet. Alastor had no idea if she had ever learned of his... escapades. He figured she must know, considering the manner in which he died but it was a horrifying thought. He was grateful when Charlie spoke again, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Thats so cute!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands as she looked between Alastor and Angel, searching for similar excitement.

"Can we meet this alleged doll of yours?" Angel asked, "Cause I am really not believing any of this bullshit your spouting."

Charlie gasped, suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Do you think she would want to be redeemed?"

"Oh dear," Alastor shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes, "she's not here."

"Then wh-"

"She's in heaven?" Angel exclaimed, "You married someone who ended up in heaven?"

"Either that or she's over a hundred years old and still on earth." Alastor weakly joked.

"I'm sorry."

Alastor shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

"No!" Charlie insisted, "You'll... you'll never get to see her again! That's so sad!"

"And here I thought you were trying to get us redeemed." Angel scoffed.

Charlie turned to him.

"I'm trying to get you redeemed cause you're a guest. Alastor isn't a guest."

"Right you are, my dear."

"But you could do that." Charlie said turning back to Alastor, "Angel's right, if you were a guest you could be redeemed. You could see her again!"

Alastor smiled kindly at the excited demon. He patted her back.

"I'm afraid I don't think that's an option."

"But why not!" Charlie insisted, "Anyone can be redeemed, Alastor."

"That's not the issue, my dear." he sighed, "I did some things on earth that she would most certainly view as... unfavorable shall we say? Things she most certainly learned of after my death."

"You're not even gonna give it a shot?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, come on Alastor. Let us help you. You never know how it could turn out!"

"It's alright. I have the time we spent together, the memories. I don't want to taint that." he slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand to his chest, his palm over his heart, "The love is still there, thats what matters."

The quartet fell silent as Husk poured Alastor another drink. Alastor sighed, grabbing the glass and examining it carefully, but not taking a sip.

"What was her name?" Charlie asked, her voice small and her smile long gone.

"Y/n."

It had been years since he'd said it out loud. His tongue relished every syllable.

"Her name was Y/n."

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abyssruler · 8 months

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furina’s guide on the art of matchmaking

neuvillette x gn!reader

it’s no secret that furina is constantly bored of the mundanity that comes with court, but with the recent discovery of neuvillette’s crush on you, things have just gotten a lot more interesting. if only you and neuvillette would just get together, but alas, it comes down to the great hydro archon to bring justice to neuvillette’s sad, pathetic love life.

furina pov, comedy, furina being dramatic as hell

Furina knows the best way to get under Neuvillette’s skin is through you. The Iudex may seem impassive from the outside, but she knows where to look for his tells, particularly when he’s annoyed (she has, after all, been the recipient to silently judging stares, usually those of a disappointed or even irritated nature).

And she’s seen the way Neuvillette looks at you—his face softening, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, and most damningly of all, the slightest hint of a blush whenever you stare into his eyes a little too long to be considered proper.

It’s all so entertaining to watch, if a bit miffing to endure seeing how utterly slow the two of you are. If Furina had been in Neuvillette’s shoes, she would have long since enacted a performance grander than anything Fontaine has ever seen and asked you out on a date. Not just any date though, no, she would have to pull an all-nighter to come up with the best date there is. One does not simply go on a date with the God of Justice and have it be mediocre.

But all that aside, with how boring Neuvillette is with his stricter than strict rules and views on how one must go about their day, it falls upon her to make sure he doesn’t die as a decrepit old bachelor who’s never felt the touch of another person intimately. (Not that Furina had any say on the topic of intimacy, seeing as she’s never had any experience in the romantic aspects of life, but experience means nothing compared to the wisdom of the God of Justice!)

So, after many nights spent huddled beneath her blankets, scribbling on her notebook and brainstorming the best way to get a rise out of Neuvillette, she happened upon a breakthrough. An idea so great it would not only be something worthy of the Steambird’s headlines, but also be something the people of Fonatine would speak of for years to come.

Yes, it all comes down to this very moment, standing over the highest place in the opera with hundreds of eyes watching her as she points an accusing finger at your figure standing on the very stage she’s set up.

Neuvillette watches it all with his eyes narrowed at her, hands clasped tightly around his cane, and Furina would have loved to relish in that reaction, but alas, she must continue with her script.

With a haughty smile, she meets your eyes as she yells out loud to her captivated audience.

“I charge you, (Y/N), with the crime of theft!”

The people below gasp in shock at the sudden accusation. Only natural, of course. You, an esteemed person of reputable background who most people view as a kind person, being charged with theft? How scandalous!

But that’s not all!

“You stand accused of thievery,” Furina pauses for a dramatic effect, feeling the spectators hold their breaths as they await her final verdict.

She then looks up at Neuvillette, and it takes all she has in her not to burst in hysterics at the comically pinched face he’s sporting. She moves her finger from you to Neuvillette, practically preening in place as the assembled crowd below let out varying expressions of shock.

And with a smug smile, she deals the final blow.

“For stealing the Chief Justice of Fontaine’s heart!”

One, two, three—

Screams erupt from below. Women squealing in delight while the men cheer at the sudden twist from accusation to romance.

Furina basks in the attention as the people sing praises of her.

“Of course, how could not I have seen it before?”

“Lady Furina is so sharp to have caught on!”

“Monsieur Neuvillette and (Y/N) do make a good pair, don’t they?”

“How ingenious! As expected of our Lady Furina!”

But then, Neuvillette stands, a stern look on his face as he taps his cane on the ground hard enough to rattle her eardrums.

“Order!”

His face could have been made from stone with how hard he’s looking at her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead on the spot. Yikes! Perhaps it’s time to make a swift escape…

“Lady Furina, might I remind you that charges and accusations are not to be made lightly within the court. To abuse your position in order to make a ridiculous statement. I…”

With every word that leaves his mouth, Furina slowly begins to feel that perhaps she’d been too hasty in thinking that all would turn out well. And oh, maybe she should have thought up of scenarios and what-to-dos after she finished performing her grand plan, but in her defense, she’d been too excited at the prospect of finally pushing you two together that it completely slipped her mind!

Is it too late to claim it was all an elaborate performance not meant to be taken seriously?

Neuvillette stares thunderously up at her.

She’ll take that as a no, then.

Just when all hope seemed to have been lost, a savior comes in the form of you raising your hand.

Neuvillette immediately stops speaking in favor of addressing you.

“Would the accused like to defend their innocence?”

You take a deep breath, gaze briefly flitting to Furina’s before meeting Neuvillette’s. And even without much prompt, from that single glance alone, she knew she was about to witness something extremely entertaining.

“I… I would like to press charges as well,” you say evenly, and for a second, Furina’s heart drops as she thinks you’re about to charge her for false accusations and perhaps even slander, (the first time in history that anyone has charged the God of Justice for a crime!) but then, you continue—

“I would like to press charges against you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for stealing my heart too.”

Your statement is followed by a stunned silence that only lasts for a brief moment, before it’s overcome by exclamations and whoops at the sudden turn of events.

Furina falls back on her seat and howls with laughter as she watches Neuvillette be struck speechless, red creeping up his cheeks as your statement echoes across the cavernous hall. She reminds herself to gift you something extravagant for saving her at the very last moment.

Ah, what a delightful way to end the show.

She watches you direct a besotted smile towards Neuvillette. Another day, another poor sod saved from the horrors of a nonexistent love life.

Furina mentally pats herself on the back for a job well done.

#furina: another day another slay #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin neuvillette x reader #gn reader #furina #focalors

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boxingcleverrr · 5 months

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Popular Hades & Persephone "retellings" are, rightly, getting dunked on all over the socials right now and, as a Pagan who has an altar to the Queen, I could not be happier. But also, I feel like a lot of people miss WHY they're bad - aside from just plain bad writing and lazy tropes. Which are, yeah, also REALLY bad.

Pretty much all retellings try to wave away, or excuse, or twist the whole kidnapping bit. And I actually do have sympathy and understanding for why, when speaking from a modern perspective.

But honestly...you gotta get over it. There are other stories to play fix-it with, not this one.

The Abduction is The Thing.

Were I a little more sober I could bring up chapter and verse of the Hymn to Demeter but frankly, if you know even the middle school mythology curriculum version of the story, you SHOULD know the themes. The story of Persephone was one mothers and daughters in the ancient world held dear, because it was a reality: you will, one day, be swept away from your home to go cleave to a man you most likely know nothing about. You will miss your mother, but chances are very good that he will be a good husband, once you get to know him, certainly better than Zeus or Ares, and he will make you a queen of his home.

Leaving home to marry was often scary, and violent (look up the history of the tradition of Bridesmaids, if you don't already know it - they were originally decoys on the marriage road). Centuries later we'd have tales like Beauty & The Beast serving the same function: comfort, hope, you are leaving your safe loving home to figure life out with a (often older, powerful) stranger. Your trauma over this sudden ending of your childhood made manifest in a Beast, or a God of The Underworld.

It's wonderful that we don't NEED stories like this anymore to comfort us (here, at least, in this culture). But if you try to force them into modern vernacular it just will not work, not really, because you're gutting out the whole point just to have a more tidy romantic male hero.

I have read MANY very good ...novelizations? fanfic(? however you would frame them, but they're certainly not "retellings"), etc. that simply take advantage of the blank spaces in the myth, and there are many!

It's not explicit that sexual assault happens - "The Rape of Persephone" as a title was coined in much earlier eras, when the word was just as often used to simply refer to abduction.

"She was starving!" the gods didn't need to eat. So it's easy to read her eating the Pom seeds as a deliberate choice on her part. Like, shit, people, scholars have written whole papers on the symbolism of this moment, between marriage rites and even yeah, Seph choosing both worlds with her husband's knowing consent.

And that, I think, is the real heart of the thing. People want an utterly mundane, spelled-out story here, as opposed to what it really is, has always been, just like any other myth or religious parable: IT'S A METAPHOOOOOOR.

They don't need to be destined, or meet at a goddamned BALL and then CONSPIRE to fake her kidnapping, or shit, I once saw one where Hades got MIND CONTROLLED by Zeus?! Jesus.

Persephone was yoinked into the Underworld against her will.

That's how it went.

I don't mean this in a "stay out of my belief system!" way, shit I'm a white American chick with delusions of witchery. I mean this in a "stop stressing yourself out trying to make things palatable" way:

This is a very real, very precious myth to many people, BECAUSE for at least that one event, Persephone had no autonomy, BECAUSE for thousands of years most women had no autonomy. Erasing that, sanitizing the fact that a girl is ripped out of the spring, from her mother's arms, is erasing the thing that gave comfort to women for centuries. And people can and should still find power and healing in it now!

Fill in the blanks the story leaves in whatever manner seems fit to you, there's plenty of room, but. Come the fuck on.

#blathering #truly had a ramble bubbling for weeks #just pagan things

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drefear · 10 months

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Art Reference pt. 2

Miguel x Reader

TW: Smut, rough rough sex, jealousy, pooty eating miguel is superior.

This was a request about reader being an artist and Miguel finding out that they tried drawing him naked and he says some sly shit about it, which results into the nasty nasty.

A/N: so it's not the bedroom mirror sexy, but it is some sweaty sexy with hints of jealous/possessive miguel. idk i wanted to combine it with the other idea I had. so i hope yall enjoy.

Part one here

The days since Miguel found your sketchbook we’re filled with relentless sex, constantly pinned under the gargantuan man and being his sexual relief.

The Spider Society stayed business as usual.

At least to everyone else.

But a few of the spiderwomen noticed something different about you.

“Are those hickeys?” Jess asked, and your hand flew to your neck. Your face got a bit warm under your mask and you thanked the heavens that you’d just gotten back from hunting down an anomaly. She shook your head and laughed.

“What? No no.” You denied and looked away, waving to Ben.

“They look like hickeys.” She tilted her head and pressed on.

“They are.” A voice came from behind you and you both looked up at Miguel, who was just standing there with a cup of coffee in hand, looking too relaxed for what he just admitted.

“See, I knew they were!” Jess laughed and leaned towards you, making you edge backwards and laugh nervously. “So who are they?”

“It’s Noir, right?” Another voice pipped up and you turned to see Pav sitting down next to you.

Miguel’s face contorted as he watched you react. “Why would you think it’s him?” He asked and Pav smiled innocently.

“Have you seen how Noir looks at her? And how much the two talk about her art?” Pav points to your sketchbook, opening to a page with both Jess and Noir on it. “And she’s always drawing him.” Your eyes stayed trained on Miguel as his brows creased with frustrations. His sights flashed back up from the page to you, making your body tingle a bit.

“So I’m right, right?” Pav spoke up again and you just cleared your throat, gathering the papers and pencils you’d played across the table.

“I-I have work to do, I’ll talk to you guys later.” You mumbled under your breath and ora tu ally ran away. Once you were gone, Pav puffed out his chest.

“I’m definitely right.”

Miguel huffed as he stood in front of his screens a bit later, grouchy as ever. He felt a presence behind him and glanced, seeing Jess looming in the doorway.

“They’re your hickeys, right?” She concluded and he just grunted in confirmation. She walked closer and he stayed hunched over his desk, not moving his eyes from the moving screens. “Is it serious?” His silence was the only answer she got as she let out a pent up breath of understanding.

You two hadn’t discussed what you were doing, you just enjoyed what was going on. Or that’s what Miguel was doing.

He had no idea what you were thinking.

“Does Spider Noir actually have a crush on her?”

“Of course he does, half of the spider people here do. She’s incredible and smart, funny and creative.” Jess went on about your traits and Miguel just found himself getting more and more upset. “But she’s spending her time with you. So don’t fuck it up.” Jess said and turned to leave, then added as she walked. “She might have others wanting her attention soon, so step up to the plate.” And then the motorcyclist was gone, leaving Miguel to his thoughts.

“She’s right, ya know.” Miguel heard Lyla say and just groaned. He’d talk to you about it soon, he just didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

Two days later, Miguel had asked you to train with him a bit. He loved being around you and the two of you began doing mundane everyday activities together. To your surprise, MIguel actually had a sense of humor and smiled a lot when he wasn’t surrounded by people constantly chattering about things he found unimportant.

So you two decided to go to the gym together. It was something you’d done before, so today was no exception.

You started before he got there, moving to the weight rack and grabbing a few to start, slowly building up to a heavier pair. He walked in and saw you doing some squats with the weights and his eyes found something he wasn’t prepared to see.

You had camel toe. And he loved it.

Seeing the outline of your tight pussy made him bite his tongue to keep from acting out right here in the middle of his gym. The way you squatted and the lips moved slightly, covered by the blue spandex of your gym shorts made him lick his own lips.

He moved in next to you and made himself a little area near yours, beginning to focus on his own workout routine.

But he couldn’t.

Not when every time you walked away, all he thought about was diving into your sweet pussy and tasting your juices mixed with the musky sweat you’d been working up since you’d gotten here. His eyes practically rolled back at the thought of eating you out right here on the bench press, and he tried to subtly adjust his gym shorts. Closing his eyes, he shook his head and stood up. He grabbed your arm and pulled you aside, bending down to whisper.

“We’re leaving.” He announced and you were stunned, speechless. You’d been there for less than an hour, was he upset?

You followed him out, not daring to question him, and let him take you home. The car ride was silent as well, and the threads of doubt ran through your mind like a wild cheetah. Had you done something? Was this it? Was this the moment you’d been dreading, when he finally cut things off and told you it was all a mistake?

Meanwhile, Miguel was trying anything to hide his painful and obvious erection. You were either much more oblivious to how he felt about you than he’d initially thought, or being courteous so as to not make him feel embarrassed about being a grown man with a boner. He stomped into his apartment and stood by his dinner table, as you just shut the door behind him and waited to hear what he had to say.

He moved to face you and pinched the meat of your hips a bit, then bending down to get on his knees and glancing upward at you.

“God, I couldn't help it.” He moans and buries his nose into your clothed cunt. “You just look amazing.” His voice was splintered with lust as he begged. “I want to eat you out through these fucking leggings.” He lifted your hips and planted you on the dining table, licking against the middle of your pants. You gasped and leaned back on one hand as he rubbed his nose against your clit and you shook slightly. The middle of your workout pants were now soaked with his saliva, nipping the fabric with his teeth and sucking you through it.

“Smells amazing, tastes amazing. Could see the outline of my cunt while you were at the gym.” He grunted, rutting slightly against the chair next to him. “Yeah, this is my cunt. Mine to lick and fuck, no one else’s, not even fucking Noir.” He hissed and you began to understand where this had come from.

“Noir?” You questioned before sucking in a sharp breath while he put your spandex covered thighs on his shoulders.

“Mmm, that black and white cabrón. He couldn’t handle this pussy, the way you clamp down on me and make it hard to fuck you. He couldn’t make you scream for hours, like how only I can. Solo mia.” Miguel rambled, as he did often hen he was in the process of fucking you somehow. “Just you, Miguel- fuck.” You nodded as your fingers found his hair and tangled into the roots. He let his claws out for a second before moving his talons and ripping down the center of the leggings, letting the cool air blow onto your exposed cunt. “So wet…” He marveled and bit his lip. You whined out and stared down at the shredded fabric in his hands. “I’ll get you new ones, just let me fucking have this pussy.”

His red eyes looked as if you could swim in them, deadly and focused on you. You clenched around nothing as he continued to watch how your muscles moved, mesmerized by how needy you looked writhing on his table with your most intimate area in his face. His nose nudged against your clit and electric shocks sparked through your spine, making you arch your back in pleasure and a growl rumbled through his chest.

“He’s too vanilla for you, isn’t that right?” He cooed and dragged a hand up your torso, then back down to your thigh by his head and sinking his claws into the skin, making angry red marks appear. You gasped and nodded with haste.

“Yes! Yes, yes…” You repeated the word like a prayer as he smirked and languidly lapped at your folds. You felt gross, sweaty from your brief workout and letting him eat you out this way. “Miguel- wait-” You pushed his head a bit, now insecure, and he nipped at the skin in the crease of your inner thigh. “Ah!”

“Are you trying to push me away, mi corazon? Don’t you want me to tongue-fuck you?” His hands gripped your thighs tighter and slid your squirming body back down towards his face. You mewled and nodded.

“But- Miguel, I’m sweaty and-”

“That’s what I want.” He stated, as if it was as plain as day and wrapped his lips around your heat once more, tongue shooting inside of you and exploring around to find where made you scream the loudest. His teeth grazed your clit and there was an inevitable snap in your core, making your eyes only see white for a moment as he groaned, feeling your juices flood his mouth.

He pulled away and stood up, eyeing your out-of-breath form as your eyes met and he made a show of licking your cum off of his lips, then wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You shivered as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up to meet his lips, tasting yourself as you kissed him gently.

“I bet Noir couldn’t make you cum like that with just his mouth.” he smirked and whispered as you sighed happily.

“Why do you keep bringing him up?”

“Because you draw him a lot.”

“No, I draw you a lot. I drew him to help me practice shading.” You clarify and Miguel feels himself get embarrassed as you finally put it all together. “Are you jealous?”

“Well, I’m not- I don’t think I have the right to be jealous.” He muses, seeing how you’d answer and you hum a bit, smiling again.

“You’re right. You don’t.” Your words leave him slightly hurt for a moment, until you continue, “unless you had feelings for me, which then it would be totally understandable to be jealous.” You watched how his eyes became amused and intrigued.

“Oh yeah?” He playfully spoke as he lifted you up into his arms and moved to his couch, leaning you down and dropping you to the cushions. With the midsection of your leggings turned into ribbons, you sat with your core completely on display for him as he stood looking down at your body. “Well, now, if I did have feelings for you, would you reciprocate them?”

“I might, especially seeing how crazy and sexy you get when you’re jealous.” You pull his hands to make him balance on top of you, now caging you onto the couch with his arms by your head. “You think me tearing open your clothes and making sure you know that you’re mine is sexy?” He repeated, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as you laughed and nodded.

“I think that you wanting me is sexy.”

“That makes sense.” He admitted and you laughed harder, not able to hide your enjoyment. “So. I like you, you like me. What are we going to do about it?” He mused and bent down further to capture your lips, but you moved to flip him onto the ground before he could make it to his destination. Straddling him now and staying close to his face, you bit his bottom lip with your teeth. Letting go, you grinned like a mad woman.

“I’m going to prove that you’re also mine.”

tag list: @ruletarts @andyshitposts @thepowerthismanhasoverme @chshiresins @cellgore @sukioyakio @stinygirl009 @freshtoes

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel

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eddie4bat-president · 4 months

Text

Saw a drawing of Steve and now I'm suddenly thinking about artist Eddie who designed the Hellfire shirts and Corroded Coffin fliers and who draws the villains of his D&D campaigns to slap onto his DM screen for visual aid and doodles in class and-

And i'm thinking about Steve, in a relationship with Nancy, trying to ignore that things are rocky but knowing it all the same. He finds a notebook left behind in school and he only takes it because he forgot his own. He plans to use it for the day and then figure out whose it is and get it back to them in exchange, that's probably more than fair, right? And the person is really gonna want this back - it looks like half their life is contained in this thing; there is... a shit ton of loose paper stuffed between the pages and notes on all kinds of subjects and drawings and.... he doesn't even know what that is. Who is Vecna and what the hell is a... lich?

Anyway as he leafs through it he finds that some of the drawings are... actually really good. Like, absurdly good for being in a lined notebook that looks like it has taken a trip into a dumpster and picked up some debris on the way out.

Like! Those hands! Steve has no artistic bone in his body but he's heard people whine about drawing hands and - he looks at the hand not holding the book and back again - yeah, that's exactly what hands look like! And here - a few pages further (it's one of the most empty pages of the whole thing, mostly because this one seems to have started as a drawing and not as a page of notes that turned into a drawing) there are only a few lines on the page but it's still very clearly the back of someone's neck, the collar, one shoulder.... Then there's another one that is almost all lines, but they were all carefully placed to give the effect of perfectly windswept hair. Then there's one that he actually can't make sense of at first (he almost pages past it because it is just a few lines and dots taking up a quarter of a page of very annoyed... history notes? Maybe English.) It's just a jawline with some moles but... only the day before he had cut himself shaving a finger's width underneath those exact moles. And that's when it clicks. He goes back to the hair... yeah that- that could be him too. Maybe. He flips back to that one very detailed drawing of hands and... putting down the book he tries to get his hands into the same position - the angle is off but. Yeah. That's why they looked so perfectly...! Uhhhh... Handsy! Because they're his fucking hands!

Anyway Steve realizes that about a third of the drawings are or could be him. He realizes that he actually can't go through with giving it back because - what would he even say? "Hey found your notebook, nice shrine to me?" Yeah no. But he's... also reluctant to take it to the Lost and Found. There's something in the handwriting.... He has a feeling that it might not be a girl secretly drawing him. What if someone else connects the dots? What if they confront the mystery artist about it? Flashbacks to his fight with Jonathan, the line he crossed and immediately regretted. He doesn't want to be the cause for someone else getting called that. And unrelated to that, things with Nancy aren't great right now and it's... it's just nice to think someone is paying attention, alright?

Then Halloween happens a few days after. The Break-up(?), the demodogs, Billy and the tunnels- and afterwards it's nice to have the notebook to distract him from the pain. The mundane mystery of a schoolmate maybe having a crush on him. He might not even have to confront them - he can just figure out a way to slip it into their locker; it looks like at least half their schoolwork is crammed into this thing, no matter how half-heartedly done. They definitely want this back.

Man, I wish I could actually write this thing. Damn. Maybe I could even do a scene where Steve tries to Sherlock Holmes his way to Mystery Artist and confronts a (hatefully seething) Robin, because she sits behind him in that one class, only to find his own Watson in her instead. But alas. It cannot be.

#as usual this is as good as it's gonna get #steddie #steddie season 2 au #steddie ficlet #hey i'm talkin' here #steddie fic prompt #steddie notfic

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