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bluberryfields · 8 months

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This is what happens when you're raised by TV and trained in literary analysis

Beyond the crushing heartbreak of that finale, one thing in particular has stuck with me when I look at it in the context of S2 as a whole.

He lays out their relationship, "We're a team, a group. A group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't."

He then turns his head away and says, "I mean, the last few years, not really."

He pauses here, facing the interior of the bookshop. Really looks it up and down.

Turns back, "And I would like to spend" before choking on his words and looks toward the window. He can't finish saying something like "And I would like to spend eternity with you" because that's too much, too fast, for both of them.

But it's that "last few years" bit that has firmly lodged itself in my very broken brain.

According to Gaiman, it's been "a few years" since the end of Season 1. Armageddon has been averted. Heaven and Hell have reluctantly retreated. Crowley and Aziraphale have been effectively cut loose from their "sides," leaving them to form their own side.

So at the start of Season 2, we get a glimpse of the “fragile existence” they have carved out for themselves. To me, the biggest difference that we see is how they exist together in front of others. Going to the coffee shop, the pub, and the other shops along the street that Aziraphale has lived on for over 200 years. And don’t forget how they act in front of Nina, Maggie, and sweet, dim Muriel.

At the coffee shop, Aziraphale stammers a bit when Nina asks who Crowley is, but he still seems to have affection in his voice when he says, "We go back a long time."

Compared to Shakespearian "He's not my friend! We've never met before. We don't know each other!" panic, this is an incredible difference.

Of course, each time, Crowley is cool and cheeky and does nothing to indicate that they aren't a pair. Though, of course, he does deny it when Nina asks about Aziraphale being his side piece. “He’s not my bit on the side! He’s far too pure of heart to be anyone’s bit on the side.” And refers to him as an “Angel [swallows]I know.”

When they go the pub, Crowley's joy at doing something together in public that they do not normally do is super cute, including his cheeky order for Aziraphale's sherry. Then, when bringing the drinks over to the socially trapped Aziraphale, he greets Mr. Brown with a truly adorable, "Hello" and a signature DT smile. Then upon hearing how “excited” Mr. Fell is to host the meeting, he looks down and says, “Oh? You astonish me.” while Aziraphale sips his sherry and squirms.

We also watch as Crowley follows Aziraphale as he goes to each shop and talks to the owners about the meeting/secret ball. In theory, Crowley has no reason to tag along, and he certainly doesn’t help sway anyone who doesn’t want to/can’t go. He goofs around at the magic shop. He splays out on the bench, chin on hand, looking for all the world a husband waiting for his wife to pick out a dress at the department store. They are so married it’s ridiculous.

Finally, their behavior in front of Muriel while inside their sanctuary. Crowley sits on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair, somehow looking supremely comfortable on the old-fashioned furniture. He folds up those gloriously long limbs and presses himself as close as possible.

He smiles and plays along with Aziraphale’s coaching of Muriel in her disguise. Calls him Angel and asks to speak in private. And at the end, during the awful wait while Aziraphale talks with The Metatron, Crowley cleans up the shop and tells Muriel that he and Aziraphale will need some “us” time after all this. No beating around the bush.

Without oversight, they can be openly together and happy. But Heaven just can’t let that happen.

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angelltheninth · 6 months

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Loved the kink list you did for Simon, big men are so hot. Would you mind doing the same for Miguel? Doesn't have to be top 5 kinks but something he'd enjoy a lot?

You are so real for that Anon, as someone who is on the shorter side big, tall men are very attractive to me.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, lots of cum, grinding, encouragement, slight painplay, masturbation, long distance relationship, size kink, pregnancy mention, dom!Miguel

Kinks included: thigh riding, spanking, phone sex, cum play, pregnancy

A/N: Some of this go hand in hand with other kinks but you get the gist.

THIGH RIDING

Clothes isn't that big of a factor here but if he has to pick then Miguel would prefer if you rode his thigh without any clothes on. Feeling your wet pussy on his thigh is much better then having clothes on although if it's the right material, one that can also stimulate your clit and make you come faster then hell yeah, you can wear that while you ride his thighs. He can let you do this on your own or he can set a pace for you but regardless once you start he wants to see you come.

SPANKING

Will be used both as a form of punishment and reward depending on your actions. At least in theory cause no matter what he does it will turn you on and in turn turn him on. His favorite way to spank you is while his cock is all the way inside you and he can feel your pussy vibrate and tighten around his cock every time he slaps your ass cheeks. Miguel does hold back but never enough to not leave a hand print behind.

PHONE SEX

Because he is on missions often this is a kink that developed naturally for you both. It allows you to still have an active sex life together even when you're universes apart. It does require a little snaking around from him but he's able to make it work and dirty talk to you at least long enough for one orgasm to happen.

CUM PLAY

Not a thing he thought he would be into until he saw your stomach covered in cum after he pulled out suddenly when he was called for an emergency. When he thrust his cock upwards it dragged his cum across your body more and something within him lit up. He started to jack off while fingering you just so he can see his cum on you and to see what you would do with it, how you would scoop it up and lick it off your fingers or spread it down to your pussy and finger it into yourself.

PREGNANCY

A family man like Miguel would naturally want to have a big one. Even if you already happen to have a kid when he meets you he wants to give you another one. There's something about you, with your belly big and swollen and your breasts growing bigger, and you needing him to massage you when your body hurts that activates all the more primal instincts within him. You never have to worry about how much bigger you might get because his cock will always get hard for you, he'll always be able to pick you up one way or another and carry you around like his beautiful wife.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagine #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #marvel smut #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 smut #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x you #x female reader

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jinjeriffic · 2 months

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DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 5

Part 4

After collecting their bags from the library lockers Jazz led him down the hallway until she found a small, unlocked, empty classroom. The room was barren except for desks and a whiteboard. I guess they don’t bother locking it if there’s nothing worth stealing.

Jazz sat her messenger bag down on the teacher’s desk and pulled a whiteboard marker out of a side pocket.

“Right,” Jazz began, “I don’t know how much you know about ecto-entities and since, as you said, the reports on them tend to be pretty biased, I’m just going to start from scratch. Sounds good?” she rambled.

Tim hopped up onto the front row desk and tried his best to look like an attentive teacher’s pet.

“Yes, Ms Fenton,” he said cheekily.

Jazz gave him an amused look.

“Careful Mr Taylor, or you’ll end up in detention,” she said lightly. She turned to the whiteboard and gathered her thoughts for a moment, then wrote ECTO-ENTITIES in large block letters, “Many people refer to all ecto-entities as ghosts, but this is actually a misnomer. Ghosts as most people think of them, i.e. the restless spirits of the dead, are only a small subset of the ectoplasmic population. There’s plenty of them that were never human to begin with,” higher up on the board, she wrote INFINITE REALMS, “Ecto-entities originate from a parallel dimension to ours, which is called the Infinite Realms by its inhabitants. Though my parents refer to it as the Ghost Zone, that name is woefully inadequate.” Jazz paused and glanced at him.

“Kinda like foreigners renaming places instead of using the one in the native language, gotcha,” Tim nodded. They had dealt with alternate realities before, so this wasn’t completely out of left field. He would go along with it for now. Jazz gave him a small smile.

“That’s right!” she said and tapped the whiteboard, “Now, the Infinite Realms and our dimension are closely interconnected, like two sides of the same coin. Large scale damage to one would cause similar devastation on the opposite side and vice versa,” she gave him a serious look.

“Which makes the hostile attitude of the paranormal research community rather worrying,” Tim mused, “If someone did something stupid the blowback would hit us too,” If he wasn’t trained to read people he would have missed the slight tightening around Jazz’s eyes.

“That’s the theory anyway. And it’s not like the US government ever dropped bombs on people just to see what would happen,” she chirped with false cheeriness.

There’s a story there, Tim thought, and not the kind you would find in a history book. What the hell has been going on?

“I’m guessing getting access to the Infinite Realms isn’t as easy as calling an Uber though,” he joked.

“You’d be surprised,” Jazz said wryly, receiving a raised eyebrow in response, “there are places where the barrier between worlds is naturally thin, allowing temporary rifts to form more easily, but they can pop up pretty much anywhere in the world. It’s what allows ecto-entities to enter our dimension. It’s also not unheard of for humans to stumble into the Realms either, though they’re lucky to return at all,” she twirled the marker between her fingers, “Time doesn’t seem to work the same way in the Realms as it does here. Just in case you ever come across one, make sure to leave through the same portal you entered. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded in the Middle Ages, or far in the future with everyone you know and love long dead.”

Tim had to fight to keep down a wince. The whole Bruce Lost In Time Debacle was still an emotional scar for the family, they really didn’t need a repeat performance.

“Duly noted.”

“Some entities are able to open and close rifts at will,” Jazz continued, unfazed by Tim’s dry tone, ”though that ability seems to be pretty rare. It probably requires an unusual level of power or incursions would be much more common.”

“That would explain the little disappearing trick Damian’s delivery guy pulled,” Jason murmured through Tim’s earpiece, “But does that mean we’re dealing with a fucking super ghost?”

Tim gave a thoughtful hum and drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk.

“Do you think humans could open a portal to the Realms?”

Jazz gave him a wry smile.

“You just summed up the bulk of my parents’ research over the last two decades. They managed to build a functioning portal about two years ago.”

Tim choked. Jason swore.

“What?! But that’s-! How is that not all over the news?!” Tim sputtered. Jazz just sighed.

“My parents have been ranting about ghosts since they were in college,” she said wearily, ”Most of the scientific community had written them off as crackpots years ago. It doesn’t help that large concentrations of ectoplasm generate some kind of interference that messes with recording equipment. Short of kidnapping the naysayers and shoving them bodily through the Fenton Ghost Portal it’s hard to prove anything. And thankfully even my parents aren’t that crazy,” she finished with an eye roll.

Tim buried his face in his hands. An interdimensional portal. What the fuck. He thought back on everything Jazz had told him so far.

“What’s ectoplasm?”

“You’ve been paying attention!” she smiled and added some notes to the whiteboard, “Ectoplasm is the basic building block of everything in the Infinite Realms, and by extension ecto-entities. Hence the name. It’s the equivalent of matter in our dimension; atoms, protons, quarks, etcetera. I’m not a physicist, so I can’t tell you exactly how it works, but that’s why ecto-entities are able to interact with our physical world in such fascinating ways. Flight, intangibility and invisibility are all common abilities for them.”

“Wow, what a fucking security nightmare. B is gonna freak,” Jason groused. Tim tuned him out to focus on Jazz’s continued explanation.

“My parents have been experimenting with using ectoplasm for power generation, but it’s proven extremely volatile. It seems like it’s affected by things like belief and emotion which is absolutely fascinating,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “not to mention its effects on organic tissue. Have you ever had your dinner come to life and try to eat you?”

Tim had a sudden, horrible suspicion.

“Can’t say that I have,” he managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat, “Um… Jazz, what does ectoplasm look like?”

“Well that depends on what it’s been affected and shaped by but in its raw form it looks like a bright green, glowing liquid,” she tilted her head, “Why do you ask?”

Over the comms, Jason made a sound like someone had kicked him in the crotch.

“Lazarus water?! Is she talking about the fucking pits?!” he choked out.

Tim made a valiant effort to keep his own reaction in check.

“Oh, just wondering how I’ll recognize a ghost- er, ecto-entity when I see one,” he lied with fake casualness, “You mentioned something about powers?”

“Yes! All the entities we’ve encountered so far have exhibited powers which are common to their species, as well as additional powers that seem to depend on the individual core. I’ve theorized that powers develop as a response to stress related to either their Obsession or death trauma…” Jazz trailed off, “aaaaaand I’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I know I have a tendency to ramble,” she said sheepishly and considered the bullet points she had written so far, “Let me backtrack a bit. Not all ecto-entities are ghosts. There’s personifications of concepts, which I theorize are formed through the collective consciousness of living beings. They are entities which represent Hope or Justice or-”

“Time?” Tim interjected. Jazz gave him a calculating look.

“...sure. They are among the most powerful entities and have powers related to what they represent. I suspect they may have even been worshipped as gods at some point. You definitely wouldn’t want to mess with them,” at Tim’s nod, she continued, “There’s also the Neverborn, which are formed when ecto-entities choose to reproduce. They are entirely of the Infinite Realms, and thus were never ‘born’ into our world.”

“Ghosts can have children?” he said, surprised.

“Yes, although I’ve never been able to get the details on how it works. They don’t like to discuss it with outsiders. And considering they can look like dragons or disembodied floating eyeballs I’m not sure I’d want to know the exact mechanics,” she joked.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’d disagree with you on that,” Tim muttered, then paused. “Wait, dragons?”

Jazz waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that there’s way more to the other side than most people realize. There’s probably lots of things I’ve never even heard of. It’s quite exciting, really!”

Tim worried about it. A lot. Jason had also gone suspiciously quiet.

“So, ghosts are just the tip of the iceberg?” Tim hedged.

“Exactly. What sets them apart from other ecto-entities is that they are usually created upon the death of someone or something from our dimension, which gives them motivation to come back here,” Jazz added more notes and arrows to the whiteboard. “All entities have something they call a core; think of it as their central organ or brain. It houses their consciousness, and its nature affects what powers they get. There’s all kinds of elemental cores like fire and water, but also more esoteric ones like shadow or technology. An ecto-entity’s body is composed of ectoplasm and moulded by their core. Their physical form is malleable and heavily based on their self-perception. With experience they can change shape to suit their needs.”

Tim mentally added shapeshifting to the growing list of powers to worry about. So far it sounded a lot like a Martian’s.

“So can ecto-entities grow and age?”

“It depends. The Neverborn usually do, but a lot of ghosts have a bit of a Peter Pan thing going on where they don’t want to. They are often ‘stuck’ at the age they were when they died, physically and mentally. Though there’s always exceptions.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully. Something had been bothering him since ghosts had first entered the equation.

“Jazz, if ghosts don’t age or die, why aren’t they all over the place? Even if rifts are rare, shouldn’t there be hundreds of thousands of years worth of dead folks wandering the Earth?”

She gave him a sad smile.

“I never said ghosts couldn’t die, Adam,” she said carefully, ”And not everyone who dies comes back as a ghost. The ones who do typically have some unfinished business holding them back. Like an obsession they never got to fulfill, or a loved one they are watching over. Once they are done, they are free to move on to whatever Afterlife awaits them,” she sighed and crossed her arms, “It also takes a lot of energy for a ghost to do anything in our world. I think a majority of them never hit that level, or can’t keep it up for any significant amount of time. It’s also part of the reason my parents are so biased against them.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Think about it. Most ecto-entities are just like regular people, going about their business and keeping their heads down. The ones who are both motivated to cross into our world, powerful enough to manifest and tend to make themselves known are the troublemakers. It would be like an alien looking at the population of Belle Reve and concluding that the majority of humans must be super villains! It’s sample bias.”

Tim bit his lip. This all sounded worryingly plausible, which would mean a literal world of trouble about to come down on their heads. Fuck, just what we needed.

“You mentioned that ghosts can die. I assume you don’t mean from old age, right?” he queried. Jazz looked at him wearily.

“You’d be right. If an ecto-entity’s core is too badly damaged, they will cease to exist,” she said cautiously, “It doesn’t help that ghosts tend to maintain a strength based social hierarchy and are fiercely protective of their territory. Ecto-entities usually have a lair within the Infinite Realms, and those who cross over to our dimension often establish a haunt to call their own. Any intruders would be met with violence,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead, “My parents have also been developing weapons to fight ghosts with… varying degrees of success. A lot of their tech runs on ectoplasm which makes it pretty temperamental.”

Seeing Jazz’s obvious discomfort with the topic, Tim decided to switch tracks.

“Is there any way to tell for sure if my brother came back as a ghost?”

Relieved at the change, Jazz made a see-sawing motion with her hand.

“Kind of? My parents tried for ages to build a ghost detector but they never got it to work quite right. Too much ambient ectoplasm in Amity I guess,” she shrugged as if that statement wasn’t extremely worrying. “You could always grab a ouija board or something and try asking. Just… don’t ask a ghost about their death. It’s a major trauma for most of them and there’s no better way to send them into a frothing rage. If they volunteer the information that’s one thing, but to ask about it is like the social faux pas among ecto-entities.”

Tim nodded and made a mental note to get his hands on some Fenton tech. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week for him.

Jason and Tim didn’t speak until they were safely back in the car. Tim was mentally composing the report they would have to make to Bruce. He was not looking forward to his reaction.

“So,” Jason began with fake casualness, “an interdimensional portal in Illinois.”

“Yep.”

“Creatures made of fucking Lazarus Water.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And we still don’t know if our mystery meta is Bruce’s dead kid or not.”

Tim groaned.

“It all adds up though, doesn’t it? The camera glitching, the powers, the portal…”

“And that damned prophecy. The personification of Time, huh?”

Tim pinched his nose to stave off the growing headache. They contemplated the fucked up situation they had stumbled into in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jason sighed and started up the engine.

“Rock-paper-scissors for who has to tell B?”

Part 6

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfamily #jazz fenton #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #prophecy universe #the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#no beta we die like danny #jazz gets to infodump and worldbuild whoo

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rassicas · 9 months

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In the splatoon fanbase, there are many misconceptions surrounding the relationship between inklings and water. without fail whenever I mention something related to the topic I'll get replies of "actually the canon is [some popular but incorrect theory]" "no they can do this and this canonically [it's actually a headcanon]" "no its really [something NOA made up]"

so to briefly go over The Facts:

Inklings canonically die when submerged in water. And yes, getting "splatted" is them dying for real, respawning is also an in-universe thing that has existed for at least 2000 years and not just a game mechanic. While the dying in water thing originally came from a game mechanic, it has been repeatedly stated that they incorporated this into the inkling's biology. The water weakness is not because of the water itself being toxic. The reason is based in osmosis. in the process of their evolution, Inklings (and octolings) changed a lot, and one of these changes was the ability to transform between a humanoid and swim form. Doing this transformation requires skin that is a thin, semi permeable membrane [this kind of skin is a trait found in real life molluscs]. The evolutionary trade off is that, because of how semi permeable their skin is, the ink inside of their bodies will bleed out when in contact with another liquid. This is the answer given directly by the series' creator. Kind of like how a slug will die if you sprinkle salt on it (for a reason that's almost the same as the inklings), but ultimately needs salt in its diet through the food it eats to live, inklings do drink water and other liquids. Its also not like they touch water and immediately explode, it seems they can wash their hands in it and dip their feet in it and be fine. Some people think the water weakness is stupid, personally i think its reasonable because Inkling biology is already weird as hell and of how ridiculously advantageous it is to be an ink-based cephalopod. the ink gives them the ability to jump absurdly long distances and cheat death to an extent. they're not losing much by not being able to dunk themselves in water. Anyway point is it sucks that all the relevant canon information on this is one of those japan only things/exclusive to developer interviews and pretty much every time it's brought up in English the localizers make shit up. I plan to make a video about this one of these days, but with how 'controversial' the topic is, and how many little details and connected concepts there are, I've been holding it off because I want to do it right. there's also some specific details that are unclear that I've been hoping would be clarified in the artbook or a dev interview but haven't, I might just have to go for it at this point. for the time being, i hope this post helps clear up a few things!

#splatoon lore #splatoon biology #splatoon #inkling biology #long post #actually surprised i hadnt made a post about this yet #anyway god i do need to make that video to get in depth on every mention of water is like. essay length #not to mention the repeated mentions of osmosis in relation to inkling biology that doesnt make it outside of jp #inklings #biology

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metalhoops · 1 year

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‘Of course, I remember you.’

As far as first words go, Eddie’s were a hell of a head-scratcher.

To catch up the uninitiated, everyone in the world has a soulmate. It’s been debated and speculated if a person can have more than one, but the mechanics behind soulmates was a pseudo-science at best and downright magic at worst. The first words a person’s soulmate spoke to them were inscribed somewhere on that person’s body, typically in their soulmate’s handwriting.

Doesn’t handwriting change over time? The uninitiated might ask, to which Eddie would repeat, it’s pseudo-science or magic. Either that or something like quantum mechanics, where people are pretty sure, one day we’ll understand how it works, but right now there are a lot of theories and only a little bit of evidence, most of which contradicts itself.

Most of the time, the words are boring and wholly unhelpful. He could count on two hands the number of people that simply had some variation of ‘hello’, tattooed somewhere on their body. From Eddie’s point of view, he got lucky.

He had a sentence of scratchy scrawl written on his inner arm stating, ‘of course, I remember you’. And really, what the hell was Eddie meant to make of that?

Typically, your tattoo lets you know you’d found your soulmate upon first meeting, but his words implied he’d meet his soulmate before they first speak and that it would be memorable. Wasn’t that goddamn frustrating?

His soulmate’s first words were right up there with ‘hello’ in Eddie’s list of ‘top five worse soulmate marks,’ because how the hell were those poor bastards meant to know if they’d just met the love of their life or if it was just their weird neighbour Tom? With his number one spot reserved for Gareth’s truly horrific, ‘I’d thought you’d be taller’. His soulmate was original. He’d give him that.

There was no surefire way to know your soulmate’s gender, same as there was no surefire way for a mother to ‘just know’ a baby’s gender before it was born. Yet if Eddie was being sacrilegious, as he so often was, he’d say he ‘just knew’ his soulmate was a guy.

There was nothing in the handwriting that gave it away. Nothing particularly ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’ about the lettering. But ever since Eddie was a kid whenever he thought about his soulmate, he’d always think of them as ‘him’.

He would like this or that. He wouldn’t be an asshole, like the meathead jocks at Hawkins. He would be different. He’d be kind, caring, and of course, a total badass. Eddie just had to wait to meet him.

Steve’s soulmate mark drove him crazy.

‘You might not remember me’.

What the hell was Steve meant to do with that? Soulmate tattoos were meant to let you know when you’d met your soulmate, not that you’d already met them. In the days before Steve received the shake-up of his life in the form of Nancy Wheeler and the Upside Down, he had a reputation for sleeping around. He knew back then he’d been a little hopeless, but surely he’d said more than a couple of words to a girl before he slept with them.

It horrified Steve that he could meet his soulmate, in some respect, know them, and yet had never talked to them. Could he really be that much of a jerk?

He’d never thought Nancy was his soulmate. He knew their words didn’t match up. That didn’t mean he loved her any less. Statistically, the odds of meeting your soulmate were somewhere between getting crushed by a vending machine and winning the lottery. Steve’s parents weren’t soulmates and boy did that show, but a guy could dream. Call him a hopeless romantic, but Steve was holding out hope for them.

He’d almost thought his soulmate was Robin. It fit, right? They went to the same school, but they’d never really talked. He’d been so busy with his first day at a real job, he’d missed Robin’s first words to him. It wasn’t until later he’d started to expect it might be her. That was, until the pair were huddled beside each other on the floor of a bathroom stall. Robin was a lesbian and her first words, although interesting, definitely proved they weren’t soulmates.

When Steve was a kid, he’d spend hours daydreaming about what his soulmate would be like. She’d be outspoken. She’d be bold. She’d be able to make him laugh. When he’d gotten older, something changed. He didn’t know how to put it into words, at least not ones he was ready to say out loud. ‘She’ didn’t fit his soulmate quite right. So after high school, he started wondering what ‘they’ would be like. ‘They’ felt not quite right, but closer.

Their handwriting was distinct. It was all sharp-edges and odd-angles. It looked like it was trying to replicate something Steve couldn’t quite place until he walked into the record store at Starcourt and caught a glimpse of an Iron Maiden album cover. That gave Steve his first real clue as to what his soulmate might be like.

It would be another year before the same handwriting would stop him in his tracks. Dustin had marched into the Family Video store as they were shutting up shop, brandishing a notepad and talking about needing a ride to go play his fantasy game. Steve was always going to drive Dustin, but he’d been dragging his feet, to show the kid he wouldn’t always drop everything to take him places. A familiar sharp edged, odd angled handwriting stopped Steve cold.

“What are those?” Steve asked, trying to fain disinterest as his heart pounded in his ears.

“They’re notes from the last session. You know, so we can keep track of what’s happened so far in the campaign. Who’s doing what quests, how many hit points everyone’s got. Mike is currently—.” Steve couldn’t give a crap about Mike.

“Who’s writing is it?” Steve tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

Robin must have known something was up because she moved to Steve’s side. With one glance at the notepad, she understood why Steve was acting so strangely. She’d seen his tattoo, she knew it was his soulmate’s handwriting.

“Our D.M.’s” Dustin replied. He might as well have been speaking in freaking code.

“Alright, I’ll drive you,” Steve gave in, hoping he could catch a glance of his soulmate. Maybe his tattoo was wrong, maybe he’d know his soulmate when he saw them.

They pulled up outside of the high school. He saw a group of people loitering outside the auditorium. Dustin had brought a lot of loose sheets of paper, so it only made sense Steve helped him carry his notebooks in. Most of the people there were familiar faces, the kids he’d babysat with a few exceptions.

“Well, if it isn’t our favourite bard. I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” an oh-too-familiar voice crooned. A boy broke away from the crowd to meet Dustin.

He was Steve’s age. They’d gone to school together. The dude used to do all these weird soap-box sessions on their lunch table. They had gym together, and history. Steve didn’t think the two had ever actually spoken.

“I would’ve been here quicker if I hadn’t had to play twenty questions with Steve. Steve, you know Eddie, our D.M.? Weren’t you two in the same year?”

Eddie was practically shooting daggers at Dustin’s side profile, shaking his head discreetly as though hoping Steve didn’t remember who he was. He supposed Eddie always had a reputation.

“You might not remember me,” Eddie spoke before Steve could answer.

Holy shit.

“Of course, I remember you,” Steve argued and watched as Eddie’s eyes swelled to the size of dinner plates.

Both boys stood, slack-jawed and stiff-shouldered, peering at one another. Steve’s brain short-circuited, because holy shit, Eddie Munson was his soulmate. Holy shit he’d found them, him.

Steve dropped Dustin’s notes and swarmed forward without thinking, throwing his arms around Eddie. Much to his surprise, instead of freaking out, like any normal person, Eddie was waiting to catch him, leaving both of them to tumble ass backwards onto the parking lot asphalt.

They held each other in a bone-crushing hug. Steve buried his face in Eddie’s neck, surprised at how naturally the action came. He’d never hugged a man like this, hell he’d hugged no one like this. He was clinging so desperately to the man that he’d never thought he’d really find. Eddie pulled back slightly, trying to get a better look at Steve’s face. The guy’s eyes were alight with wonder and mischief.

“That was quite an entrance, Harrington. All for little old me?”

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” Steve admitted.

“Well, clearly you’ve been doing a shit job of it,” Eddie argued which earned a snort from Steve. His soulmate would be able to make him laugh.

“You’re not disappointed, you know? That your soulmate is the town Freak?”

Steve had given up on caring about labels, on caring about what other people thought. Since high school, he had changed. He was different. He didn’t want to be just another, shallow, meathead jock. He wanted to be different.

“No. Absolutely not. Why would I care?”

Dustin shattered the moment, clearing his throat and proclaiming,

“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell just happened?”

#steddie #steddie ficlet #fictlet #drabble #steddie drabble #obligatory soulmate au #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things 4 #steveddie #I love reading soulmate aus #but I've never written one #so first time for everything #metalhoops writes

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toweringclam · 3 months

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Eyes in Hazbin Hotel

Putting forward a theory on how Sinners' eyes relate to the sins they were condemned for. Now, there's more to a sinner's form than just the eyes (a cannibal's toothy grin, for example), but I'm pretty confident that you can guess the "flavor" of a sinner's crime from the shape and color of their eyes. Also of note is that this doesn't apply to "full demon" forms, just their baseline.

"Normal" Eyes: Sinned Knowingly

Example: Lilith

These are people who know what they were supposed to do and then did something else instead. In Lilith's case, it was God's will to submit to Adam, and she refused (among other things).

No Iris: Sinned Impulsively

Example: Ms. Mayberry

These are people whose greatest sins happened when they weren't thinking clearly. Maybe they were gripped by some delusion or in a fit of uncontrollable rage. They might have even felt bad about it, but by then they were already damned. In this example, Ms. Mayberry killed her husband in a fit of rage after she caught him cheating.

No Pupil: Sinned Uncontrollably

Example: Mimzy

I'll admit, I'm a little uncertain on this one. It's hard to tell if someone has no pupil or just a very large pupil, and there aren't very many examples.

If this is a separate category, these people sinned due to addictions of one kind or another. Unlike those who sinned through pure impulse, they were fully aware that what they were doing was wrong, but they were unable to control themselves.

Blank Eyes: Sinned Callously

Example: Valentino

These are probably among the worst sinners in Hell. They're people for whom morality did not factor into their actions in the slightest. They sinned because they sinned, nothing more, nothing less. It was like breathing to them. There is no light in their eyes. Valentino was a pimp and a serial abuser and absolutely nothing has changed in Hell.

Ringed Eyes: Sinned Madly

Example: Niffty

These people have something else going on entirely. Whether their eyes are a gradient, have sharp dividing lines, or even just concentric circles of the same color, there is something wrong with these people that defies simple categorization.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #helluvaverse #vivziepop

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everlastlady · 6 months

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Sins With Human S/O

✘Posted: 11/8/2023

✘Story Contains: Human gn reader, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Mammon, Fluff, Nsfw, heartbreak, sins just loving their human partner.

✘Word Count: None

✘Author's Note: This has been sitting in the back of my mind for a while so I decided to finally write for y'all. Remember to eat a meal or a snack, drink some water, get some fresh air, take your medicine, and remember that you are loved. If you loved this story remember to comment, click or tap that heart button, reblog with tags, and blaze if you can. Always remember to support your local writers. ♡♡♡

Asmodeus:

You had met Asmodeus when you were trying to make a deal with a demon to get your ex back. You wanted a simple demon but you accidentally summoned the big man himself, Asmodeus, of course he was confused on how you summoned him. Because it’s usually a meeting thing but you summoned him upon command. He would have been mad because he’s a busy man; but when he locked eyes with you. He thought you were a sight for sore eyes so he asked you what you wanted and why you had summoned him. With teary eyes, you told him that you wanted your ex back, you told him how your ex cheated on you with your best friend. The reason he cheated and left you was because of your body, that you were boring, and annoying. Now Asmodeus didn’t know your ex but seeing that you were all teary eyed over some asshole made Asmodeus upset. The lust lord sat on your bed almost breaking it. But he patted a spot next to him. You tilted your head in confusion but sat down with him. Asmodeus took his time hitting you with harsh reality. “ You can’t force someone to be with you. Sometimes people will come into our life and stay while others leave. But it’s good when the bad people leave, and that guy you were dating is a real asshole; honey, you don’t need him at all. Let me be the one to show you what love actually is. Because I think you look beautiful just the way you are. “ Asmodeus offered his hand. You weren’t sure about this but you decided to give Asmodeus a chance - what started as a beautiful friendship and the king of lust showing you about what love really is soon turned into a relationship.

Asmodeus is no stranger or idiot when it comes to humans. So when he started dating you and visiting you. He would of course go up in his human form. The brown skin male with the long red and blue braids will always greet you with a smile. He’s still bigger than you, which you don’t mind. Though he does like going back into his actual form in the comfort of your home. Asmodeus loves your home, it’s cozy and quiet. He sometimes does his work here or reads a book there. He’ll bring you flowers everyday so now you have a little garden in the back of your home and a couple of flowers in your home, that don’t die. Asmodeus is always there to tell you good morning and goodnight. Sadly he can’t take you to Hell but he tells you all about Hell. “ Yeah, babe, it’s not really how movies depict it. “ He laughs at the questions or theories you have on Hell.

His guilt pleasure with you in the human world is when. It’s a cold day and raining, the two of you have the fireplace going and are snuggling on the couch in a large light blue heavy weighted blanket, drinking hot chocolate, and watching romantic comedies. Of course the two of you have the best snacks and foods on the table. Asmodeus loves to have you on his lap whether he’s in his human form or demon form. Moments like this make Asmodeus happy because he loves the rain and spending time with you. “ I gotta give it to you humans, you guys know how to make a good romantic comedy… sometimes. “ Asmodeus would place kisses on your head, neck, and cheek during the movie.

Your ex eventually shows up trying to get back with you. But when the door opened up, Asmodeus was standing there and he recognized your ex, when your ex asked who Asmdodeus was, the lust king grins. “ My name is Toby, I’m {Name}, boyfriend, you must be that shit ass ex they told me about. “ Asmodeus glared at your ex, who stood there looking up as Asmodeus who stood there in his human form. Your ex peeked in to see that you were wearing a long dark blue t-shirt that belonged to Asmodeus. “ {Name}! “ You ex called out for you, trying to get inside your home but Asmodeus blocked his way and pushed him outside. Closing the door behind them both; you stood there drinking from your mug hearing screaming that belonged to your ex. After a couple of minutes Asmodeus walked back inside. “ He shouldn’t bother you anymore. “ Asmodeus placed a kiss on your nose as you chuckled.

He eventually shows you pictures and videos of Hell. “ This is the ring of Hell. I owe the Lust ring, it always rains there. Here is a video of me and my friend Fizzarolli messing with some Imp because they were singing a love song at my place of business “Asmodeus laughed. But you looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “ I know I’m a hypocrite. “ Asmodeus crossed his arms. " But I had to keep a reputation cause Hell. " Asmodeus rolled his eyes. You kissed his cheek to let him know that you understand.

Sex with Asmodeus is fucking amazing. This man is the king of lust so he knows how to make your body scream and cream with pleasure. Sometimes you have to take a time out because you are a trembling mess. Asmodeus will cover you in hickies. But he's gentle with you when it comes to sex; he'll only be rough if you ask. He's also not afraid to test out any kinks yoi have. After sex, you'll receive the best aftercare. A bubble bath, while Asmodeus tells you how good you were during sex. He'll make you a nice snack and get you some water because liquids are very important after sex. He'll change the sheets and then place you in bed. After he cleans himself up, he'll cuddle with you in bed.

Beelzebub:

Your friends invited you to a party. You weren't really a party person but you decided to go because you could use a fun night out. So as your friends were dancing, you walked over to the snack table. The host of the party. Trevor always threw amazing parties because he was rich, so the snack table always had such delightful goodies. So when you saw that there was one last slice of cheesecake you went for it, only for someone else to go for it. You looked up to see a tall woman with long blonde mess hair that had some blue and pink streaks. She was wearing a pink shirt with a tye dye heart on it and some matching shorts. She was tall woman with crazy black eyeliner and beautiful pink eyes. " Oh? Did you want this, you can have it. " She let go of the plate of cheesecake. Her smile could light up a room. She gave you one last smile before grabbing another snack and walking off. You stayed by the snack table eating the cheesecake, after a while the party became too much for you. The music was now blasting, the colorful flashing lights hurt your eyes, and loud chatter was making you feel overwhelmed. You couldn't even find your friends, you began to panic until you felt someone grab your hand and pull you outside, away from the loud party. The night sky looked more peaceful, you looked over to see the woman you met earlier at the snack table. " You okay, small fry? " She asked. While handing you a water bottle. You smiled and nodded not knowing that this moment soon became a friendship and soon a relationship.

Beelzebub is the sweetest girlfriend. Even when she revealed to you that she was the queen bee of Gluttony when showing off her demon form. She expected you to run off screaming, but no you love her even more. You find her lava lamp tummy, really cool. Beelzebub tells you that she only comes to the human world to party with humans, she is the reason such amazing parties happen. But now she always comes up to see you. She always brings you food or snacks when she comes to hell and these are things from Hell. Which you become fascinating with the meals in Hell. Beelzebub understands that you don't really like parties so if you ever want to leave a party early, she understands and will leave with you.

Her guilty pleasure is playing video games with you. So the two of you have a game night. With the best snacks, you two play all times of games. She loves playing fighting games with you like Mortal Kombat or Smash Bros. " Shit, honey, you always win but one day, I'll win. " She teases. She also loves to do tye dye with you, a fun peaceful activity for the two of you.

She doesn't let anyone hit on you at a party or make you feel uncomfortable. Last creep that tried some funny shit got punch into the table by bee. " Don't touch, my damn partner! " Bee would try her best not to shift out of her humanity form because she doesn't want to scare anyone at the party.

Bee shows you pictures and videos from her parties in Hell. She wishes that she could attend these parties but humans aren't allowed in Hell. But she let's you taste some of Beelzebub juice that she made and it taste good. That you have a bottle in your fridge. Good thing none of your friends touch it because you ask them not to do so. Beelzebub juice does nothing to humans but make them have party energy.

Sex with Beelzebub is sweet as honey. She puts the sweetness in her love, you also know it's time for sex when Beelzebub appears behind you with a can of whip cream or sometimes honey. Beelzebub is sucker for licking and sucking things off of you. She's a pro with her tongue and fingers. She loves to be on top, to be dominant. She could be a soft dom or a rough dom, it all depends on what you ask her. Aftercare is always something Bee never forgets. She'll sit in the tub with you and wash you up while talking about what plans you two could have tomorrow. After caring for you both; she will cuddle up with you in bed while watching some tv.

Mammon:

You were having trouble with money, especially after leaving your parents home because you were sick of them controlling your life. The job you took wasn't really grand especially since your boss was horrible and a creep. So you ended up quitting so with bills piling up, you became desperate and decided to try and strike a deal with Mammon the demon of greed. After obtaining a book from a sketchy guy in a van. You went home and set everything up, after lighting the candles and doing the chant. You sat there for a couple of seconds and nothing. With a sigh of defeat you decided to heat up some leftovers; you walk into the kitchen but stopped when you saw a large jester like spider going through your fridge. You cleared your throat, and he turned around. " Oh! Hey there, you know your fridge looks pretty sad mate; probably why you summoned me, which I'm surprised that shit worked. " Mammon slammed the fridge close and walked up to you. When getting a closer look at you, his face felt hot. " You ain't so bad looking for a human. " He said. You weren't sure if you should be offended or not. " Well let's get this deal going, the more time I spend standing here, I loose money. " Mammon picked you up, not knowing this was the start of an interesting relationship.

Now you didn't expect to be dating Mammon and Mammon didn't expect to be dating you. But he didn't mind having you as a partner. You were quite sassy and took no shit from him. You knew all his bullshit and tricks. So he could never pull a fast one over. Mammon does spoil you a lot, to the point you don't really have to work. You always see that Mammon has some how put money into your bank account and that your bills have been paid. No tricks, just him being a sweet boyfriend with a shit eating grin. Anything you want he'll buy it so that you don't have to worry.

Has a human form like the others. The chubby Australian man loves holding your hand when you two are out in public. His black hair that had green streaks. He wore a long sleeve green shirt under neath his black jacket and had black pants. You thought he looked handsome, Mammon knows he's handsome. Cheeky asshole. But he takes you to any shops or food places you want or theme parks. " I should build a Disneyland in Hell. I'll call it Mammon world and charge $500 for a ticket. " He would go on about what it would have. You would playfully roll your eyes and listen to your boyfriend talk about his plans for this theme park and the outrageous prices.

His guilty pleasure with you, is doing absolutely nothing... Yup, Mammon is working man. But when he's with you, he gets a break so he loves to just lay in bed with you and cuddle. He'll rest in his face into the crook of your neck while sleeping. He holds onto you tight, but not to tight because he doesn't want to break you. But he enjoys these moments of naps and cuddles with you. Even if you are awake, he'll still be asleep by you.

No one should piss off Mammon, so when he hears about how your ex boss harassed you out of the store because you went to do some shopping. So that night when you fell asleep, Mammon paid your boss a visit. That morning when you were cooking breakfast for you and Mammon, you turned on the news and saw that your boss was murdered. You knew it was Mammon because he used your bosses blood to paint his symbol on your boss's office wall. You turned around as Mammon was whistling innocently. " .... He's in Hell in my ring, so he'll suffer more. " Mammon said and went back to whistling. You nodded your head went back to cooking not wanting to show Mammon your smirk.

Yes, Mammon is a greedy bastard but he's not greedy when it comes to sex. He loves to give you the best of the best. The highest quality of pleasure - he will use the four arms, because those four arms work wonders. Sorry but he can't control the honking during sex when he's pounding into you, so you'll have to deal with the honk when he's hitting it from the back or front. After sex, he'll give you after care and wash you up. " That was fun, we should do that again but next time on my web, I could tie ya up and maybe a blind fold. " Mammon could go on but eventually stops after you two end up in bed cuddling while Mammon places kisses on your head, telling you that you are the best thing that has ever happened to him and he wouldn't trade you for any amount of money.

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #helluva asmodeus #helluva beelzebub #helluva mammon #helluva asmodeus x reader #helluva beelzebub x reader #helluva mammon x reader #helluva x reader #helluva fandom #helluva fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #helluva everlasting #everlasting writes🪻

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sainamoonshine · 8 months

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Okay so I finally watched Good Omens season 2 and have tons of thoughts about it, especially how the minisodes and side-plots do so much work, thematically.

*slaps flashback segment on the roof* this bad boy contains so much subtext!!

And here’s my analysis about some of it:

The side plots are about at least three main themes that I can spot.

1. They are all, in some way, about resurrection. The children of Job. The Nazi Zombies. The resurrectionist. Miracles being rated on a scale of how many people they can bring back from the dead. Even Gabriel, in some way, arriving naked and without his memories and innocent as a babe, then finding himself again was a form of resurrection.

This, of course, has to do with foreshadowing season two, the one where the main plot point is going to be the second coming.

2. They were all about how much it’s a bad idea to mess with humans. All flashback minisodes either had someone die directly because Aziraphale and Crowley were around (Wee Morag, the guy at the magic shop), or almost die because Heaven and Hell said so (Job’s childrens). In present-day time, Aziraphale’s messing about with people during the ball is explicitely called out as creepy and wrong and Nina & Maggie have a talk with Crowley about it.

This leads to my theory that this is also going to be a major theme in the third season. We know that in the book, Adam explicitly tells heaven and hell to stop interfering. We also know that in the show, Aziraphale and to a smaller extend Crowley need to learn this lesson.

I also think that the resolution of the next season is probably going to involve Earth being marked definitely off limits to angels/demons, possibly via the same mechanism that makes the shop into a safe heaven you need to be invited in (and the same thing became true of the Bentley once Aziraphale claimed it! As pointed out here , Shax had to hitchhike to get in, instead of appearing inside as she did before). Earth needs to be claimed. I think that this will happen either by a combined miracle of incredible proportions from both Crowley and Aziraphale after they reunite, or (and this is my pet theory) by a combined miracle of incredible proportions by Adam and whoever is the new Jesus (I am a greasy Johnson truther lol). This would make Earth a place that you need to be invited in order to go there, and therefore safe haven for angels and demons who promise not to cause trouble.

3. All of the side plots and minisodes are about misdirection. Sleight of hand. Smoke and mirrors. Magic tricks. Showing one thing while something else is true.

This is shown obviously in the Job part and also in London 1941, with the party who is getting tricked being heaven and hell, respectively. Meanwhile, Gabriel and Beelzebub are trying to trick everyone. But who is tricked by the plot lines of Nina/Maggie, and Elspeth/Wee Morag?

We are. The audience is.

It has been pointed out here and here that Nina is meant to make us think she’s a parallel to Crowley when she is actually more of an Aziraphale thematically, and vice-versa.

But what about Elspeth and Wee Morag? We have one that robs graveyards, and one who tells her that is wrong and is worried about her eternal soul. That seems straightforward enough as a mirror to Crowley and Aziraphale, no? Well, let’s just look at what they’re doing and saying to each other, shall we?

“Don’t do this incredibly wrong and dangerous thing. It will have repercussions that you can’t even begin to understand right now.”

“I’m doing this for you! You deserve better than this life!”

“I don’t want the better life you’re offering. I would rather huddle with you here, homeless and poor but knowing you’re safe and that we’re together, than to know you alone out there doing horrible things you’ve convinced yourself you need to do.”

“I do need to do it. Trust me! This is going to fix everything! And if you don’t want me to be alone, then come with me. There! Problem solved!”

(Problem very much not solved.)

Doesn’t this sound, a tiny little bit, like a certain season finale to you guys? Elspeth was, in fact, Aziraphale all along. She thought she knew what was best, and she barrelled along without listening to anyone else, and then it went horribly wrong.

There is a reason why both times this season that we see Aziraphale fucking up someone else’s plan (the corpse to sell, Crowley’s contraband whiskey) because he initially reads it as a bad thing and thinks he’s doing good by destroying it, without having the full context, it backfires on him and then the situation has to be fixed. He needs to stop and understand things properly before taking actions. He needs, in short, to ask questions.

We see that the one time he did ask questions before acting was during the whole Job thing, and it worked out the best out of all the sub plots this season, right? … except that Aziraphale was convinced that he would Fall for his actions there. The way Crowley had fallen for asking questions.

And if the only person whose assessment of the situation matches Aziraphale’s is a demon, if the only one who is doing what he personally thinks is the Right Thing is a demon, then gosh… either that means that Aziraphale himself should therefore also be a demon, OR it means that Crowley shouldn’t be one, and this was all just one big misunderstanding, and maybe if I just speak to the manager…?

#good omens #good omens spoilers #go2 spoilers #go 2 speculation #good omens meta #meta #good omens season 3 speculation #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 meta #good omens analysis

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mikavlcs · 11 months

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Not On My Mind

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: You leave school for a trip, and Wednesday doesn’t miss you. Not even a little bit.

Warnings: soft/ooc!wednesday but she’s like...in denial about it, my writing

Word count: 2.8k

Notes: this is kinda messy, but cute. nothing else to add tbh. hope you guys enjoy<3

Masterlist

Wednesday Addams was not soft.

She simply wasn’t. She never had been, and she never would be, for as long as she drew breath. The word didn’t even exist in her vocabulary.

Because she, Wednesday Addams, was a singularity. Unlike any other lowly mortal, she was not born from a womb, but forged in the hottest, most ferocious flames of hell by Lucifer himself. She was pure menace and dread given a small, but formidable physical form.

A vile miscreant equipped with a smile that could make even the purest of angels scream in terror and a glare that could make the devil shed tears of despair. Judge, jury, and executioner—someone capable of horrors beyond even your worst nightmares.

(Well, not executioner since she was unfortunately not yet a murderer, but she would be someday. It was the only incomplete task on her bucket list.)

So, no, Wednesday Addams was not soft. Nor could she ever be capable of such abominable behavior.

And yet…here she was displaying signs of this weakness. Because of you.

You were going on a family vacation. An event which, to Wednesday, sounded like a particularly gruesome method of torture, but you were positively buzzing with excitement about the trip.

Either way, you were going away with your family for a week. An entire seven days without you constantly at her side, chattering in her ear between classes, and lounging around her room in the evenings.

This, in theory, should have been great news. Lucifer knew how much more writing she could get done without you dragging her out to Jericho after classes or trying to read over her shoulder despite her threats of bodily harm. But it wasn’t great news. In fact, the information brought forth an odd sort of discomfort. A dull ache in her chest she’d never experienced before.

It was disgusting, it was vile, and it would certainly stain her reputation if it ever got out.

She supposed her reputation had already been defiled by the fact that her roommate and self-appointed best friend was the human embodiment of a rainbow, but this? This was a new low.

Her shamefulness was all she could think about while she watched you pack from her place on your bed. Well, “pack” was a generous way to describe it. You were actually just frantically grabbing clothes and other various items from around your room and throwing them into your suitcase and duffel bag, much to the disapproval of the meticulously organized Addams.

You insisted that you had a system, a method to your madness. Wednesday disagreed but didn’t bother voicing it.

From the ground, your voice rose, sounding far too winded for someone doing so little exercise. “Can you hand me that box on the dresser, Wends?”

Wednesday exhaled sharply. She came here to see you off, not help you pack last minute. Still, she obeyed, not without sending you a scathing glare that you promptly ignored.

The box in question was easy to find, already open atop your dresser where you directed her. She took a passing glance inside to survey the contents within—a bunch of mismatched jewelry that sparked vague recognition but no interest.

Just as she was about to close it, something caught her eye. A ring, sitting in the corner of the box. It was a simple, visually unobtrusive black band with silver engravings wound throughout. She recognized it as one of your most frequently worn pieces of jewelry, but it had never captured her attention before now.

She was overcome with the sudden, overwhelming urge to take it. Wednesday very nearly stifled it, but she figured since you were subjecting her to these horrific feelings, she was entitled to a settlement of some kind.

Swiftly, she pocketed the ring and snapped the box shut, venturing back over to you, none the wiser as you messily stuffed clothing into your suitcase. She held the box out to you, eyes narrowing in condemnation at the messy state of your things below.

“Why are you taking the entire box?” Wednesday asked neutrally.

“Because these dorms are not the most secure,” you answered, taking the box from her hand with a smile and placing it on top of your clothes. “And I would hate for something to get stolen while I was gone.”

Wednesday’s lips twitched. “Yes, that would be unfortunate.”

Soon enough, you were finished packing and ready to go. Almost. For some reason, you were struggling to carry both your duffel bag and suitcase at the same time. It was quite humorous, watching you struggle, but she took pity on you knowing you were on a schedule.

“You’re weak,” she grumbled as she snatched the duffel bag from your hand, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped around you to open the door.

You followed closely behind, flashing her a grateful, slightly sheepish grin while closing the door behind you. “Thanks, Wends.”

She said nothing, just kept walking, finding amusement in the sound of you fumbling to catch up. When you found your footing, you took your usual place at her side, shoulders brushing while you easily fell into step with her.

The whole way down, you chattered on and on about what you were excited to do on the trip, but Wednesday wasn’t tuned in. Her attention was on the way her stomach fell further with every step closer to the waiting car outside and the pit she could feel forming for seemingly no reason at all.

She despised it, this ever-growing weakness you unwillingly made her develop.

Walking out, you found the car parked right by the curb outside, Principal Weems already leisurely resting against it while she waited for you to arrive.

The tall woman greeted the two of you with a smile, to which you offered a wave in return while Wednesday just stared. She came to collect your luggage and went to put it in the back of her car, leaving the two of you to say your goodbyes.

You turned to her, rocking back on your heels, clearly unsure of what to say. Wednesday, though she’d never admit it, was in a similar predicament, without the slightest clue of what to do now.

She didn’t know why, but she was tempted to pull you back into the school and drag her back to her dorm. The urge was utterly ridiculous, yet grew more powerful by the second, nagging at her as she watched your agonizingly slow internal debate.

“I guess I’ll see you in a week,” you finally said, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’ll be over in a flash, and I’ll be back to talking your ear off before you know it.”

Wednesday gave you a firm nod in lieu of a verbal response. You sent a sideways glance to the principal’s car, clearly remembering you had a flight to catch.

“Bye, Wends,” you said, then added, “Please don’t kill anyone while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” she deadpanned, earning a laugh from you.

After another moment of indecision, you pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, feather-light and entirely too quick for her tastes. But she didn’t voice that embarrassing thought, just watched you walk off and enter the vehicle with her arms crossed.

As the car pulled off, you turned and waved to her out the back window, and she lifted her fingers from her forearm slightly in response. The smile you gave her got smaller and smaller with distance.

Wednesday stayed standing there until the car was out of sight, the unidentified pit in her stomach never abating.

—

The week that followed was…weird.

It was the same as any other week at Nevermore, yet entirely different.

She was indeed able to get much more writing done, but it wasn’t as triumphant as Wednesday imagined. The silence in her room was refreshing for all of twenty minutes before the tone of it shifted, and the quiet felt empty. It didn’t impede her workflow—if anything, it increased it—but it just felt wrong.

There were a number of notable happenings throughout the week as well.

Bianca suffered her 47th defeat at the hands of Wednesday during their weekly fencing practice (she was very excited to get to 50), Eugene somehow got six bees stuck in his hair and, in a show of true incompetence, Xavier managed to spill an entire can of paint on himself. Something he would never, ever live down as far as Wednesday was concerned.

In all of those instances, she found herself looking to her right to see if you were smiling or laughing. Until she was met with the empty space you would’ve occupied, and she remembered. You weren’t here. It made a certain hollowness settle in her chest, making her mood drop ever so slightly.

It was pathetic, honestly. It made her want to self-lobotomize herself to attempt to determine just how much damage you’d done, to see if it was reverible.

Still, she mentally cataloged the events to recount for you upon your arrival. Only so she wouldn’t have to deal with your whining about her not telling you anything once you inevitably heard it from Enid.

Throughout each day, your ring accompanied Wednesday everywhere she went. Slipping it on right before leaving her dorm and taking it off just before bed quickly became her new routine.

She had never fully understood the obsession that people had with rings as the only hand jewelry she ever enjoyed wearing was brass knuckles, but she was beginning to get it now. The light weight on her hand was somewhat soothing, especially in moments when your absence was particularly potent.

She hoped that no one would notice it. Most wouldn’t have even known it belonged to you, but your shared group of friends (acquaintances on Wednesday’s end) would likely recognize it since you wore it so frequently.

Knowing this, Wednesday did her best to take it off in group settings, slipping it into her blazer pocket to put back on after, but it was harder to remember during classes. This oversight ended up being her undoing.

It wound up taking three days for someone to notice the ring. And, of course, that someone was Enid.

They were in Botany, listening to Miss Thornhill drone on about some rare carnivorous plant. Enid was in the seat next to her to “fill in the void” you left behind in your absence with her peppy, prismatic presence.

Entirely unnecessary, but so were most things Enid did. Wednesday had long since learned not to question her anymore.

Wednesday, having already known everything there was to know about the plant, had finished taking her notes five minutes after class started, but Enid wasn’t even trying to take notes. She was instead doing seemingly everything in her power to irritate Wednesday. Incessantly doodling, clicking her pen, constantly fidgeting and shifting, drumming her fingers against the desk.

It was positively maddening. And not in a good way.

In an effort not to snap at her, Wednesday occupied herself with your ring. Tracing the engravings and twisting it around her finger. It was soothing. Enid, nosy as she was, glanced over at the movement and paused her pen clicking.

“Hey…” she started, and Wednesday immediately knew she would hate where this was going. Enid leaned over, making Wednesday lean back in turn. Her eyes narrowed then widened moments later with a soft gasp. “That ring, isn’t that—"

“None of your business? Absolutely,” she gritted out, sending her a scathing glare. “Now, perhaps you should actually pay attention. Maybe then you’ll have a chance of finally getting something higher than a 70 on the next test.”

Her roommate looked like she wanted to say more but eventually conceded with a disgustingly wide smile and a mumble that sounded awfully like that’s so cute of you, roomie.

Wednesday swore that if it were anybody else, she would’ve finally completed her bucket list that day.

—

After what seemed like an eternity and many more tests to Wednesday’s patience (almost exclusively from Enid), seven days passed and the time for you to return to Nevermore arrived.

It had actually been longer than seven days—170 hours and 17 minutes, to be exact—but who was counting? Certainly not Wednesday.

The principal’s car pulled in just as the sun began to set, and Wednesday was there, standing off to the side of the school’s entrance. Not because she was waiting for you, she simply had matters to attend to in the courtyard around that time.

You stepped out the car moments later and your eyes found hers instantly, expression brightening. Bags in hand, you ran over to her but stopped just short of her, excitement fading into uncertainty.

Wednesday stared at you, then, with an audible sigh, stepped forward. Your smile returned, increasing tenfold as you dropped your bags and wrapped your arms around her, careful not to squeeze her too hard. If you questioned the way she barely leaned into your embrace and turned her face just slightly into your neck, she would say it was entirely in your head.

“Did you miss me?” you asked once you pulled back, hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

“Not for a second,” she answered. “I was able to get twice as much writing done without your constant prattling and distractions.”

“Uh-huh.” The sly smile on your face told her that you definitely weren’t buying it, but you plowed on before she could confront you. “Y’know, you could have texted me if you had a phone,” you persuaded, fixing her with a look she’d become intimately familiar with since you’d started dating. “I could always get you one.”

Wednesday blinked, shot you a dubious look. “You’re broke.”

Your shoulders fell dramatically, but your tone remained light. “Damn, Wends, you didn’t have to say it like that.”

She didn’t dignify you with another response. Knowing you would need time to unpack before dinner, she slung one of your bags over your shoulder and took off in the direction of your dorm, leaving you to catch up.

It wasn’t long before you were by her side, matching her pace easily. And, of course, you had more to say.

“Do you wanna hear about my trip?”

“No,” she said. A beat. Then, “But you may tell me while you unpack. I know you like to run your mouth while completing tasks anyway. I have things to tell you as well.”

“Really? Thanks, Wends,” you grinned brightly. Wednesday shot you a glare, and if you noticed that it was softer than usual, you didn’t comment.

Unable to keep your mouth shut, you started ranting about the traffic you hit on the way back to the airport, or something related to that. Wednesday wasn’t quite listening. She was instead taking in the unfocused drawl of your voice in her ear, the strides perfectly matching hers, the light brush of your shoulder against hers—just appreciating the familiar presence at her side once more.

It had only been a week, yet it felt like a lifetime since she had last experienced this.

Without thinking, her hand drifted to fiddle with your ring, and your eyes caught the movement. You stopped suddenly, prompting Wednesday to come to a halt as well with a questioning look.

Gently, you grabbed her hand and brought it closer to your face to inspect the band around her finger.

“This is mine, isn’t it?” you asked, brows knitting together. “I’ve been wondering where it went, I swore I packed it...”

Wednesday snatched her hand away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about but grab my hand like that again and yours will be swiftly removed.”

“But—” you started to protest but stopped abruptly. She watched, curious, as your expression smoothed over into something even she couldn’t quite read. You nodded, smiled. “Yeah, I must be confused, sorry.”

Wednesday narrowed her eyes but accepted the apology with a nod.

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. It was odd. Wednesday stole a few glances to see if you were upset, but you seem to be. If anything, the opposite.

Still, the silence stretched on even when you both arrived at your destination, and you were pulling the door to your dorm open for her. She strode inside, trying to find a way to broach the subject without sounding too concerned.

But there was no need.

Just after the door closed, you put a hand on her shoulder and leaned over into her space. She gave you a startled glare but didn’t move away, ignoring the way her ears burned at the sight of your soft smile and the equally soft whisper that followed.

“I missed you too, Wednesday.”

—

everyone @ wednesday while reading this:

anyways happy pride to my fellow loser gays 🥳🏳️‍🌈

#wednesday 'i'm not like other girls' addams is canon btw #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega #she's a loser<3

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lovelytsunoda · 4 months

Text

i can't get no satisfaction // mick schumacher

summary: camping out in the library after hours, and too stressed to retain information, the student librarian has an idea about how take all of that stress away. and it doesn’t involve reference books.

pairing: college librarian!mick x student reader

warnings: sex in a library, semi-public sex, this is so fucking filthy, mick is a sweetheart but he has a dirty fucking mouth. mentions of masturbation and sex toys. why does this man bring out the feral in me? the terms ‘librarian’ and ‘sir’ used in a sexual context (but in a playful way…for the most part)

authors note: now tell me why I can add a song here but tumblr won’t let me add ‘shallow’ as a song link to my angsty top gun fic and I had to publish it without?

there was a reason she always picked that table. a reason she’d started coming to the library in tight tops and cutoff shorts.

it gave her the prime viewing across the old library, beyond the green tiffany lamps, at the perfectly coiffed head of of blonde hair that rested behind the check in desk.

mick fucking schumacher. he was the reason most girls came to the library, if she was to be honest.

however, there was no time for that today, astronomy textbooks strewn across her table as she poured over star charts. she didn’t realize how late it had gotten, her test review notes only half filled out and an exam creeping up on her.

her ballpoint pen trailed across the computer paper as she recorded the names of the main theories behind how the moon formed, mumbling to herself in an attempt to remember the facts better. she had one Bluetooth earbud in, playing jazz music softly to prevent her mind from wandering.

it was all hands on deck if she wanted a chance in hell of passing her elective course.

two hands clapped down on her shoulders. she started, yelping as her pen trailed a thick black line across her page before clattering to the floor. heart racing, she yanked her headphone out, head whirling to see who had interrupted her.

“oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.”

mick. he stood behind her, clad in tight black slacks and and untucked dress shirt, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to just before his elbows.

and, oh god, were her nipples perking up underneath her halter top?

“no, no, I should have paid more attention.” her voice was shaking, cracking slightly. “did you need something?”

“we closed like, fifteen minutes ago.” mick said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but I’m not getting paid overtime and I kind of wanted to go home.”

she sighed, massaging her forehead wrinkles with her fingertips. “yeah, okay. sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”

her stomach sank to the floor. she felt guilty for keeping him, and a sense of crushing dread when she realized how little information she really retained.

and under the student librarians gaze, his stunning ocean eyes boring holes into her skull?

she’d be damned to admit it out loud, but she felt horny as hell. she was so stressed with exams, and so wired from trying to study that masturbation was the only way she could get herself to go to sleep: tire out the body, and the mind will follow.

but her fingers didn’t cut it any more, nor did the tiny vibrator her roommate made her buy on a whiteclaw-fuelled trip to the local spencer’s.

“okay, just give me a second and I can help you put all of these away. I feel bad for keeping you now.”

mick helped her gather her things and tidy the table, offering her a metal shelving cart to load full of all the textbooks she didn’t need. they moved in an awkward silence as the blond reshelved the books and she pushed the cart.

“so, astronomy?” mick clicked his tongue, shelving a book on star charts.

“yeah, it’s a shitty fucking elective, that’s what it is. it’s causing me more stress than my actual subject major.” she snorted, sliding a few other books into the shelf. “I’m pre-law, but I’m not even sure if law school is what I want any more. right now, I just want to shut down, if I’m being honest.”

she stepped back from the shelf, moving to go around the cart when mick spoke up.

“so is that why you barely looked in my direction today?”

she stopped cold, her foot thudding against the side of the heavy metal cart. she bit back a curse, stumbling as mick caught her, pressing her body up against the shelving cart.

“I know you have a crush on me. I think it’s cute. you’re cute.” his voice was husky, and there was barely any space between them. her heart was beating faster, heat rising in her cheeks. “there’s a reason I always work at that desk too. seeing you makes my day.”

he was so close to her that she could have kissed him if he wanted to. all she would have had to do was press up on her toes to match his height, and gently touch her lips to his.

“don’t hide from me, pretty girl.” mick whispered. “I know how pent up you are, I can see it in the way your body responded as I ran my hands over your back. I want to help you. let me help.”

she swallowed, thoughts racing as she gripped his arms, looking up into his cobalt eyes.

she needed this.

needed him.

“yes.”

when mick kissed her, it felt like all the air was leaving her lungs. he was intoxicating, the heady scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses. she moaned into the kiss, aching and longing for human contact.

��my sweet girl.” he mumbled, trialing kisses up her jaw and over behind her ear, hands coming up to knead her sensitive breasts as she leaned back against the shelving cart. “when was the last time someone treated you right?”

“s-six months.” she stuttered, panting heavily.

it was pathetic, mick had barely even done anything and she was seconds away from whining for him.

he clicked his tongue, gripping her waist and pushing her back further against the cart. a few reference books fell to the floor, but neither student noticed. his breath was warm against her ear, the tip of his nose brushing her cartilage and making her shiver.

“that’s just won’t do. whenever you came in here, I bet you were thinking about sitting under my desk and using your cute little mouth the keep my cock warm.”

noticing how her body tensed up, the boy changed his tune. “or maybe you’re not into that. maybe you just wanted me to whisk you away to the rare book room and press you up against the bookshelf, have my way with you. our dirty little secret”

ah, yes. that was the reaction he was looking for, her thighs clenching at the thought as he slotted his knee on between her legs.

“that’s my girl.” mick cooed as she grinded against his thigh. “you just need my cock to fill you up, don’t you? those fingers of yours just aren’t the same, are they?”

she opened her mouth to respond, forehead resting against his, when she leaned back too far, the cart tumbling out from behind her.

mick caught her by the waist, smoothly spinning around and returning her to her feet, ignoring the toppled cart. nose to nose, the absurdity of the situation dawned on her.

and she laughed.

and he laughed with her.

that was what she needed from a man. someone who could laugh with her, even during their most intimate of moments, someone who let all the best parts of his non-bedroom personality shine through while also knowing exactly what she needed him to say to get her off.

a gentleman.

and that’s what mick schumacher was.

he carried her bridal style back to the long mahogany table, placing her down gently and sweetly before giving her a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips.

“so, pretty girl, the ball is in your court now.” mick began, taking her warm hands in his cold ones. “whatever you need me to do, I’ll do.”

“I mean, I’ve heard the rare book room is super sexy. the smell of old books is like an aphrodisiac for me.” she said in a sing-song voice, thinking about his teasing from earlier. “then again, so are the vaulted ceilings in here.”

“I bet I could make you come so hard for me that you can see those stars on the ceiling fresco with your eyes closed.”

“wanna bet, pretty boy?” she was confident in her decision, but there was still nervousness behind her eyes.

she’d felt the way his dick pressed up against the seams of the zipper on his slacks. taking it was going to hurt.

he kissed her nose softly, fingers reassuringly rubbing circles on her skin. “I’ve got you, princess. you just need to relax and let me fuck all of that stress out of your pretty little head.”

she kissed him again, one hand on either side of his neck as she tried to press her body up against his, body flushed with need.

he gently turned her around, guiding her body so that she was bent over the table, the wood cool against her body.

mick playfully smacked her ass over her denim shorts.“such a pretty girl for your librarian, aren’t you?”

instead of the expected response, mick was delighted to get a laugh out of her. her giggles made him high, heat rising on his skin.

“was that supposed to be sexy?” she giggled, one hand reaching behind her to cradle his, thumb passing over his knuckles.

“maybe.” mick chirped. “baby, you’ve gotta let me have my other hand so I can get your shorts off.” she let go of his hand, allowing his smooth fingers to undo the button and gently draw the denim down her legs. “and for the record, I think that librarian is a damn sexy title.”

“but it’s not really a title.” she laughed, enjoying the feeling of his hands on her body, massaging the flesh of her ass before tugging her cotton panties to the side.

he smacked her ass again, cock perking up at the tiny moan she let out. “it can be whatever I damn well want it to be, princess.” his voice was playful, and it made her wet to no end.

she needed this adorable idiot to fuck her.

now.

there was little warning as he slipped two fingers into her, the cold of the rings on his fingers making her squeal as he started to flex his digits.

his fingers were so fucking long. they felt so much better than her own fingers did, that was for sure.

“that’s my pretty girl, taking my fingers like a goddamn champion. you’re fucking dripping, princess.” mick cooed, moaning at the sight of her arousal running down his wrist, the sound his fingers made as he scissored them inside of her. “atta girl, so good for your librarian, aren’t you?”

“yes.” she panted, bucking her hips against his fingers with a cry, reaching back to grab his free hand with the hand that wasn’t holding her steady on the desk. “oh, fuck, sir.”

god, she needed this. and for a nerdy guy, he sure fucking knew how to use his fingers.

she felt his hand come down on her ass again. “what did you call me?” his voice was light, with the hint of a smile behind it. “I want you to say it again, princess.”

“mhm, yes sir, please, I need more.” she exaggerated the moan, a playful smile on her face as she played right into micks hands.

she liked this banter they had going, this carefree way of looking at something most people took so seriously. no, this was an experience that felt uniquely her whereas other guys she had been with just did what they always did, not caring about what she needed to get off.

but with mick, yes, that dominant demeanour was still there, but in a gentle ‘let me take care of you’ way.

and that was sexy as fuck.

she whined as mick withdrew his fingers, tapping her side with two of his fingers. “turn around, pretty girl. I don’t like not being able to see your stunning face.”

while her thighs tingled, her chest bloomed with affection and love at the thought that mick thought she was pretty.

and it was true. the library was dim, the warm lighting from the tiffany lamps framing the flyaways from her hair and the pink in her cheeks. the cupids bow of her lips, and that gorgeous fucking smile.

he was so down bad for her, it made his cock ache.

she perched on the edge of the desk, wincing and attempting to hide her embarassment at the wet patch she was leaving on the old table, the unshaven landscape of her thighs (and between her legs).

goosebumps rose on her arms as she watched mick lick her juices off her fingers, moaning at the taste like it was his favourite thing in the world. sensing the goosebumps, he ran his hands up her arms to warm her up.

“you decide how far we go tonight, love. how many orgasms do you want?”

oh fuck.

mick laughed sweetly, seeing the overwhelmed look on her face. he kissed her forehead tenderly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “how about we start with one and see you feel from there.”

“yeah. I’d like that.” she answered shyly, feeling the cold creep in.

the old library was drafty, yet kept to a very specific temperature. she expected to be overheating from how hot this encounter was, but alas, the air conditioning system just had to go and ruin it

“here.” mick said softly, undoing his shirt to expose the silver chain that rested below his sternum, a pendant with an orthodox saint carved into it.

he undid the shirt slowly, allowing her ample time to rake her prying eyes over every perfectly sculpted part of his body, right down to the tent in his pants.

sliding the shirt fully off, he used both hands to drape the soft fabric over her body. she swooned at the motion, letting him flip the collar up against her neck.

“don’t want you catching a cold now, do we, sweet girl?” he said sheepishly, his face flushed pink and a sheen of sweat on his abs as he cupped her face, leaning in to kiss her softly.

“mick.” she whined. “I need you now. I’m aching for my librarian to make me feel good.”

“I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you.” he hummed, undoing the button on his slacks. he pushed down his boxers, erect cock springing to life.

“holy fuck.” she hummed.

his dick was impressive. all seven thick inches of it, resting against her thigh when she opened her legs and pulled him closer. she wasn’t even sure if it was possible for a dick to be pretty, but if it was, micks cock was the very definition of the word.

“so wet for me. I’ll slide right on home.” mick said, gripping his cock in one hand and running it all along her slicked up opening. now she knew her goosebumps weren’t from the cold, but from the anticipation of what was to come next.

“please, I need your cock.” she whined.

“whatever my girl wants, she gets. you just relax and let your librarian fuck all those little worries away.”

he slid in slowly, letting her adjust to take him inch by inch. the stretch burned slightly, and she found herself opening her legs wider with every inch. she had a white-knuckled grip on the table, her breaths coming out in a mixture of strangled moans and pants.

when he finally slid fully in, his heavy balls resting against her ass, she opened her eyes and changed a look down at where they connected, a moan leaving her mouth.

“that’s just what you needed, isn’t it love? a fat cock to fill you up and make you feel good.”

it was a question he didn’t expect an answer from as he started to thrust in and out of her, hands gripping her thighs to pull her in.

“oh, god!” she whined throwing her head back, breasts bouncing under her top as mick slammed into her. “feels so good, mick.”

“that’s my girl.” his voice was low and husky, but also soothing. his hands on her body was a grounding presence.

her fingernails scraped down his chest, leaving pink marks in their wake as she moaned, babbling incoherently about how good mick was making her feel.

it was heavenly. he overwhelmed every one of her senses. it was an out of body experience, if she was being honest. something out of her wildest dreams.

mick kissed her again, groaning into her mouth as he pistoned his cock in and out of her. she was practically dripping everywhere, but had no time or energy to worry about the mess she was making.

all she could think about was how good she felt with mick inside of her.

“just breathe, darling. you’re doing so fucking good for me.”

he shifted her position on the desk, maneuvering one of her legs over his shoulder. she yelped in pleasure, nails sinking into his shoulders as she screamed a curse.

“fuck, that feels so good!”

the new angle was dizzying, his length brushing up against her spongy walls with every thrust. her eyes rolled back and her vision went blurry from pleasure as she meweled under his touch.

“that’s it, pretty girl. come for me. come for your librarian.”

“oh, fuck, mick, I-“ her words tapered off into a hearty moan, micks shirt lying in a puddle behind her as she wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her head in his chest as she came with a cry of his name, tears leaking from her eyes. “mick.”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” mick cooed, kissing her forehead as he slowed his thrusts, gently working her through her orgasm. “there we go, you’re safe here. just breathe with me, can you do that, princess?”

she nodded, out of breath as mick gently eased her achy leg off his shoulder and back down to the table. he slid out of her, and the empty feeling made her whine. he gently shushed her, covering her face in kisses.

“mick, you never finished.” she pouted

“don’t worry about it, princess. this was about you. all that mattered to me was that you got your earth shattering orgasm.”

she rolled her eyes, reaching for his still-hard cock. “let me do something nice for you, dumbass.”

and who was mick to complain when she was doing such a good fucking job stroking his cock? her hands were smooth and soft, and the angelic way that she looked up at him, that sweet smile on her swollen lips while her hands worked him to the edge?

within minutes he was bellowing, spurting thick measures of come over her hands and down her arm, his entire body shaking.

“Jesus Christ.” he muttered. “you’re good at that.”

“when you hate giving blowjobs, you learn how to give a damn good handjob.” she smiled softly, unsure what to do with her sticky hands.

mick scooped her up gently, carrying her away from the desk and down the long hall to the staff bathroom. “come on, love. let’s get you cleaned up.”

after they were somewhat presentable (because, after all, there’s little you can do about the flushed skin and sex hair when you’re still in a public library), they gathered the last of their belongings and started to shut the library down for the day.

“what about the shelving cart?” she asked shyly, gesturing to the cart they had knocked over.

mick laughed. “I don’t work tomorrow, so it’s someone else’s problem.”

she watched with a soft smile as mick turned all the lights in the old building off, before he linked his arm with hers and they began the walk out of the parking lot.

“I hate to sound presumptuous,” mick began “but you’ve been here all day and I haven’t seen you leave to get food or anything. you must be starving. there’s an all night diner about two blocks from here, and I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

she smiled, kissing his cheek. “I’d love that, mick. thank you.”

and they both knew that this was going to be the start of something wonderful.

as soon as exams were over, of course.

the rest of the student body’s female population was not going to be happy when they showed up at the library and found that y/n y/l/n had finally captured their librarian’s heart.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @twinkodium @thatsdemko @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck

#mick schumacher x reader #formula one imagine #f1 smut #formula 1 smut #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #mick Schumacher smut #f1 imagine

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janearts · 6 months

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okay but what is the state of astarion's kidneys? what has roisia observed in regards to astarion's kidneys? i must now know!

[Anon is referencing this post.]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Who knows? Roisia's observations below the read-more.

[Just a wee reminder that I'm not a medical professional. Take everything I say below with a grain of salt as I am just as likely to be flat out wrong. I also want to acknowledge that I'm mixing in some stereotypical vampire traits with what we can figure out about vampires in BG3.]

Roisia believes that Astarion has a partially functioning cardiovascular system. That is to say, he certainly contains blood. He bruises and he bleeds. He can even perish from exsanguination himself. He can experience erections (presumably, anyway). Why he doesn't have a heartbeat is beyond her. Does his blood just sit stagnant in his arteries and veins? What the hell is going on in there?

In the living, kidneys form a pivotal function: they filter the waste (urea) in your blood and create urine to be expelled from the body via the bladder. They also perform a critical function by regulating the blood in your body (volume, pressure, acidity, etc.).

So Roisia knows, for example, that the average medium-sized humanoid has roughly 5 litres of blood in them. The kidneys make sure you stay at whatever level is natural for you, because excessive fluid will increase the pressure on your arterial walls. So the question for Roisia becomes: if Astarion drinks blood to excess, would he experience hypertension or bloating? Or perhaps both? Or maybe neither?

In some form or fashion, the waste that Astarion intakes (e.g., if you're into the vampire version of menstruation sexy times, if he drinks from Roisia's external jugular, etc.) or generates through his own bodily functions needs to be expelled. Does he piss it out? Does he sweat it out? Does he vomit it out? Does it misty escape out of his body while he rests?

The answer could simply be: the waste is magicked out of his body and that's that. If Roisia knew that Astarion urinates, then she would assume his kidney is probably functioning to some degree. If his urinary system is non-functioning, then she would be curious as to how the critical functions mentioned above are managed or if they're even necessary at all for the undead.

TL;DR: Roisia would likely have some sort of idea, but I (IRL) don't have the information I feel I need to even hazard a guess. And I must say questions like this would make Roisia want so very, very badly to take a peek at his insides or at the insides of any vampire or vampire spawn. She is not a Dark Urge character, but that is her dark urge born from an insatiable curiosity to figure out how people—living, dead, or undead—work.

Bonus Points:

Roisia would answer her own questions above with the following theories:

Digestive system could be partially functional if the blood that is consumed is sent to the stomach and then absorbed in whole or in part through the digestive process.

Respiratory system is also likely partially functional. I.e., Astarion can use his lungs (to speak or sigh, for example), but neither a vampire nor a vampire spawn requires air.

Endocrine system is likely no longer functional. (This is my own headcanon so Roisia doesn't have to worry about an unwanted pregnancy.) She knows that the endocrine systems of a Vampire lord are likely somewhat functional due to the existence of Dhampyr. His colder body temperature could be the result of the lack of function of the hypothalamus.

Integumentary system is likely functional to a certain degree. E.g., vampires and vampire spawn are naturally regenerative, but if you were to shave Astarion bald, would his hair grow back to the way it was prior to his death? Skin also helps with temperature regulation and provides a barrier from UV radiation, so it may not be fully functional if his body is a colder temperature and is extremely sensitive to sunlight. (Are his melanocytes dysfunctional or dead?)

Lymphatic system is likely functional to some degree. This would assist the blood consumption + waste removal processes, presumably. It's a bit of a stretch, but since Astarion can experience a diseased condition type (e.g., Flesh Rot, Contagion), perhaps surviving that (after 25 turns) could be spun as an indication of a non-magical immune response?

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #BG3 Roisia #Astarion Ancunin #Astarion #anon i wrote u an essay on tumblr.com and i am sorry #RIP ur dash

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