#i thought monty python for some reason
mochapao · a month ago
finally looked up the wackus bonkus thing everyones tagging the caleb skull post with and im cackling
13 notes · View notes
kitmon · a month ago
Not All That Bad | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: It’s date night and Eddie insists on watching a scary movie, much to your chagrin.
Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Reader
Word Count: 5.3k
Tags: swearing, violence (not really, the reader punches Eddie in the arm and thinks about wanting to bite him), reader hates scary movies, smoking (of the weed and tobacco variety), spoilers for the movie Poltergeist (1982), heavy make-out sessions, mentions of anxiety, fluff with a dash of angst if you really squint
Author’s Note: I recently watched the movie Poltergeist and, after reading some fun headcannons from @creme-bruhlee​, was inspired to write this. It’s kinda just snippets of what their usual date night would look like; bantering, laughing, being all gross and cute. I haven’t written fan fiction in like two years so, please, if it’s bad or you guys have feedback, please, please, please tell me! Also, if I missed any tags/warnings please let me know and, without further ado... enjoy!
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As you browse the aisles of Family Video, gliding your fingers over the plastic cases of action adventures and raunchy teen comedies, you hum along to Huey Lewis and the News as you pick up each tape off the rack and examine it as if it isn't one of your many go-to Movie Night flicks. You bob your head along to the synth while you bite your lip and flip the two VHS tapes in your hands over a few times, comparing and contrasting the pros and cons of each film and gauging, based on your knowledge, Eddie’s response to both.
You’re aware that it’s Eddie’s night to choose which film would play during your movie date but you couldn’t help but wander and peruse the shelves yourself just as Eddie is doing across the store, biting his thumb as he flips through the horror section. But you know that with a potent pair of puppy-dog eyes and a well-aimed pout, he’d concede just as easily, bowing like cattail plants to a strong gust of wind.
Just as you turn on your heel to search for Eddie with your two film recommendations in hand, he turns the corner, nearly colliding with you.
“Oh!” You squeak, jumping at his sudden appearance but sobering upon realizing that it’s only Eddie, a smile stretching your lips due to his presence alone. “Hey! I was just gonna come looking for you.”
His glistening eyes train down on you as he watches you fiddle with the tapes in your hands, his own clasped behind his back and a concerningly giddy expression draped over his features as he moves with untethered energy, essentially bouncing in his Reeboks. You dismiss the strange behavior or miss the signs of it entirely as you continue.
“So,” looking down, you turn over the tape cases once more with your eyes trained on them before lifting them so that Eddie could see the covers of both. “I was thinking we could either go with Clue or Monty Python. What do you think?”
As you focus your gaze on his face it becomes apparent that he has something he desperately wants to show you.
“I think…” He says, his voice taking on that theatrical lilt as he pauses for added effect before snatching both hands from behind his back and displaying his tape in front of his chest. “We should watch Poltergeist.”
Your once amused eyes and smile fall from your face immediately, replaced by a concerned weariness in your eyes.
“Eddie,” you moan, exasperated, “You know that I hate horror movies! They scare the shit out of me! Don’t you remember what happened after we watched Texas Chain Saw Massacre? I cowered so hard during the night that you thought that I was shivering!”
“Ah, c’mon, baby, please?” His eyes become pleading as he takes the tapes that you hold in your hands and sets them aside to leave your palms vacant for his own. “It’s one of my favorite movies and you've never even seen it.”
“And for good reason!” You whisper-shout, your eyebrows furrowing as your face grows stern. “I’m not trying to shit my pants during date night!”
“You’re not gonna shit your pants, babe.” He laughs at the absurdity of the phrase leaving his lips, feeling half-sorry for any passersby with children hearing their noncommittal quarrel out of context. “It's not even all that scary! I promise! And,” he drawls, inching his way closer with muted steps and wrapping his arms around the diameter of your waist as your unconvinced eyes focus on him, your hands, rid of your movie suggestions, falling upon his chest as he continues. “If you do get scared, you’ll have me there to protect you.”
You wanted to argue that you didn't need protecting from anyone but you’d be lying if you said you could make it on your own, without Eddie, in this circumstance, and in most others.
You mull it over in your head before fisting your hands and gripping tight onto the lapels of his denim vest, knocking your head gently against his sturdy chest. You peek your eyes up at him, meeting his pleading brown gaze as he watches and waits on you, expectantly. That was the look you were supposed to employ, but it seems you’ve forgotten just how whipped you are for Eddie Munson.
You sigh as your forehead falls back against his chest, grumbling something under your breath before huffing and releasing a hesitant, “Fine.”
You lift your head to catch Eddie as he pumps his fist in triumph and hisses, “Yes!”
“But!” You interject, interrupting his celebration with your warning, “When it’s night and I won't let you leave the bed to piss because I’m scared out of my mind, I don't want to hear it, alright?”
Eddie’s face steels in mock-earnest as he holds one hand up, touching his thumb to his pinky, while the other lands over his heart, tape still in hand, “Scout’s honor, m’lady.”
You roll your eyes with a smile before snatching the tape from him and giving him a playful push in the arm as you walk past towards the checkout counter.
“You were never in Boy Scouts.”
He chuckles as he tails a few steps behind you.
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You let your purse fall to the floor as you walk through the threshold of Eddie’s trailer, the bag dropping by your feet as a few of the items stored inside spill out. You begin tugging at the sleeves of your coat as you shrug it over your shoulders, Eddie following, slipping his arms out of both his vest and leather jacket. With the lack of layers, the faded graphic of Eddie’s t-shirt is much clearer: a Dark Crystal tee, bought from the local theater in town a week after opening night.
“Okay, you get started on the popcorn and the snacks and I start up the VCR?” Eddie questions with a quirk of his brow and a point of his finger.
You nod your head as you approach him, taking his jacket and vest from his hands and, along with your coat, draping them over the back of the lone armchair in the far corner of the room.
“Sounds good to me, Munson,” you agree before crouching down to your purse and extracting the VHS tape. “Here.” You toss the tape to him and he catches it with deft hands, sucking his lips in towards his teeth as he delivers a cheeky salute your way, yourself mimicking the gesture with a smile as you stalk off towards the kitchen. Eddie folds over with his back hunched and his hands propped over his knees as he starts clicking buttons and the like.
Occupied with your own chore, you begin pulling cupboard doors open overhead, shuffling through the contents of expired spices, three bottles of Tabasco, each with differing content amounts, and miscellaneous snacks and canned foods. Your fingers brush over the foil top of what you’re searching for and you remove it from the dusty dark, placing the Jiffy Pop container over one of the electric stove’s burners and flicking the knob towards a medium heat. You step away from the stove, wrapping your arms around yourself as you wait for the pan to grow warm.
Eddie’s gentle touch around your waist startles you, causing your shoulders to jump and a sharp gasp to pass your nostrils but you settle, recognizing his warmth and relaxing into his touch. He winds his arms around your middle and presses his chin over your shoulder as he watches you work.
A silence passes over the both of you for a moment before Eddie turns his head to plant a slobbery kiss to your cheek that borders on him straight tonguing the side of your face.
“Ed!” You squeal as he separates, your laugh permeating any sternness that may have existed in your scold.
You turn in his arms and rub your cheek against his shirt to wipe away the wet residue he left there with his sloppy affection.
“That’s so gross!” You chide.
“You love it,” he says with a sure smile dimpling his cheeks.
“Don’t be so sure of that, Munson,” you huff, moving your head to look up at him with your chin propped against his chest.
“Oh, but I know you like this,” he says with a playful cadence, his voice deepening towards the end as he leans down, his hand rising from its place wrapped around your waist to cup your cheek. He guides your face towards his own before planting a sweet kiss along your lips, your breath catching as if it was the first time, it always felt like the first time.
Your body becomes sluggish with the molding of your lips, like chocolate over an open flame, like your brain can only manage so much at once and Eddie’s touch short circuits all other needed functions as your brain requests a system reboot. You part your lips so that he can slither his tongue past, a moan muffled by his mouth as your two muscles slip along each other.
You pull away from him as the system starts up again, all necessary functions and requests flooding back to you, though you still remain only a breath away from him.
“Eddie,” you chastise against his lips, “I’m gonna burn the popcorn if you don’t quit distracting me.”
He walks you back towards the minimal space of the kitchen counter where the edge of it presses into your lower back. His lips maintain their closeness as he mutters against your own, “You love when I distract you.”
His lips attach to yours once more and though you find yourself slipping back into that cozy vacant-minded abyss, you fortify yourself as you push at his chest. You giggle as you watch his desperate lips chase yours as you lean back over the counter.
“That’s beside the point,” you say with a smirk.
Your attention flicks to the stove as the sound of butter sizzling, muffled by the foil, pricks at your ears, a sign that the popcorn needs stirring before the kernels become scorched.
“Alright, Mister, that’s enough of your diversions, go sit down and wait for my work to be finished.”
With a gentle hand, you shove his chest away to free your hips from their sandwiched place and turn your focus onto the neglected snack.
But he’s persistent as he snakes behind you, his arms coming to trap you against the stove as they place themselves on either side of you, his hands gripping onto the oven handle. His hips lean forward and press against the swell of your ass.
“May I have one more kiss before I go?” He pouts at you.
Your hand stops its swirling of the pan as you angle your head back to peck him on the lips, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek. As you part, you pat his cheek twice and send him on his way.
“Now get out of here.”
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You step into the living room with one arm occupied with the large bowl of popcorn you’ve managed, your other hand sneaking picks here and there as you snack a bit. You notice Eddie, lounged out against the couch, his long frame taking up two cushions as he spreads his knees and stretches his arms across the length of the backrest, leaving room for yourself beside him. His shoes have been kicked off and tossed beneath the coffee table and you figure you should do the same, toeing off your sneakers and hooking your fingers in them to carry them to the door, setting them neatly along the wall.
As you step back towards the couch and kneel over the cushions so your legs are sat beneath you, Eddie is reaching his hands into the bowl before you’ve even fully settled, collecting a large handful of popcorn and trying (but ultimately failing) to capture every bit with his mouth. You simper as you watch his boyish antics from beside him, your body snuggling beneath the comforting weight of his arm and your head resting over the space of his heart, the gentle heat of his chest seeping from beneath his shirt and mingling with your own and you suppress the sudden violent urge to bite him. From this place against him, you can hear and feel his heartbeat, a steady ba-thump, ba-thump, and you wonder how he can manage to be so calm in this moment, envying his aloofness.
“You ready?” He asks with a mouthful of popcorn and the T.V. remote raised.
“No,” you reply, stubbornly, shifting in your discomfort to emphasize it.
He chuckles before saying, “You’ll be alright, you big baby.” His head lowers as he says it so that he can prod at your cheek with his nose to comfort you before swooping to place a brief kiss there. A reluctant smile crawls across your features at his reassurance.
He presses ‘play’ on the remote before tossing it across the coffee table, the plastic clattering before skidding to a stop.
The familiar melody of “The Star-Spangled Banner” resonates across the walls of the living room and you can already sense the dread and regret that begins to pool within your stomach, bubbling at the prospect that’s laid out before you. So you scoot a little closer to Eddie and your hand involuntarily tightens around the fabric of his t-shirt. You inhale a shaky breath, It’s only a movie, how bad can it really be?
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Though the first five minutes set you off a bit, with Carol Anne’s strange conversation and the eerie white noise of the T.V.’s static ruffling your feathers, you find yourself enjoying Diane and Steve messily roll joints and laugh at each other’s nonsense, the effect of the pot distorting their humor like a fun house mirror.
“This remind you of anyone?” You tease.
“Hmm,” he faux-contemplates, “Looks like me and you in a decade or so.”
You snort at him before saying, “Looks like you and me yesterday.”
You barely hide the laugh in your voice as you recall the events of how the two of you were cackling and tee-heeing just last night:
Your bare legs kicked in the air as you could barely hold back your amusement, rolling over the disheveled sheets of Eddie’s bed while dressed in only his t-shirt, clutching your aching belly as you choked on your own laughter. It was Eddie’s brilliant idea to convert his mattress into a trampoline, your combined judgments clouded and bleary. You agreed wholeheartedly in the moment, urging him to give it a try.
He had jumped once and the height had been minimal so he bent his knees and sprang with an added force; a mistake that was. He ended up cracking his head against the low ceiling of his trailer and tumbling, with his cabeza all jumbled, to the harsh floor of his bedroom, rupturing his tailbone in the process. As he groaned in pain, writhing along the floor, you fell back against his pillows and laughed until your sides started to cramp.
The night ended with you cradling a package of frozen peas against the crown of his head, rubbing his back and bare shoulders while you kissed any skin you could find in apology, though struggling to remain composed as you giggled out ‘sorry’ after ‘sorry.’
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Your eyes are trained on the screen as you watch Carol Anne climb over her brother and parents, your breath bated as she crawls towards the crackling T.V. set, like a moth drawn to a flickering porch light in the dead of night. The music is eerily calm with bouts of shrill creaking as the muddled sound of voices whispering incoherence lies beneath it all.
As the whispers grow louder, overlapping and fighting for dominance, and the piercing sound of what seems to be a knife cutting across a strip of steel climbs in pitch, your heart rate quickens, and your face curls with anxiety. Eye’s transfixed and unable to look away, your mouth slightly agape as your fingers begin to curl tighter around the popcorn bowl, clutching at it like a tether to the real world.
Eddie’s eyes flick from the T.V. to your stiff form, noticing your uneasy state beneath him. His mouth twists into a sick grin as a perturbed idea slinks its way into his mind, his movements becoming slow and calculated, like a rattlesnake worming its way towards a pocket mouse before it surges forward and gobbles it up.
He charges forward and sinks his fingers into the flesh of your waist, howling out an “Ah!” from right beside you.
You squeal out a piercing sound and every nerve beneath your skin seems to jolt alive like a shock of electricity as you nearly topple off of the couch. With your excitement, the popcorn bowl that you had been clutching at for dear life flies up a few inches into the air, the pillowy kernels having been cast in every which direction.
Eddie barks a guffawing laugh from beside you, slapping his knee and throwing his head back against the backrest. Your face ruches at his cruelty and a deep frown sets in.
“Eddie!” You cry in reprimand, “You bastard!”
As he goes on laughing at your suffering, you wind your arm back and land one right on the center of his bicep. His chortling stifles with your punch and he squawks in surprise.
“Hey! That hurt!” He complains though there's still a suppressed chuckle behind his words and a devilish smile displaying his canines.
“That’s what you get, you shithead!”
You slump back into the couch with a harumph, crossing your arms across your chest and sporting a serious pout over your lips. Recognizing your soured mood, Eddie schools his laughter somewhat and leans forward to wrap his arms around you, placing his head against your chest before swiveling his head to place a kiss along your clavicle.
“M’sorry, baby, it was mean.” He was still smiling, you could hear it in his voice. At this point, you were fighting off a smile as well, recognizing the mild hilarity of his prank and soaking in the attention that comes with his doting apology.
“You’re damn right it was mean!” Your voice holds only meager scorn as your hands unwind from around you and, almost instinctively, begin to thread through the clumped strands of his slightly greasy hair, scratching behind his ear and at the nape of his neck where you know he likes the sensation best.
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Your fist tightens in Eddie’s shirt, crumpling the fabric there and likely leaving a damp spot with the sweat from your clammy palms. Your eyebrows knit together as you watch a slab of steak meat wriggle across the tiled countertop like an inchworm inching its way across a beech leaf before halting and spilling what looks like offal meats from itself.
You have to force yourself to look away when you catch sight of a hoard of maggots chowing down on the dropped chicken wing, stuffing your face in his underarm and gathering the cotton of his t-shirt to hide any light that threatens to seep in. You catch a whiff from where you're hiding and wrinkle your nose, you usually loved the tangy musk that rolled off of Eddie but this was too saturated. Jeez, if he needed deodorant he could have just asked me to pick some up from the corner store.
Unfazed, Eddie reaches for the popcorn bowl that lay nestled between your thighs, rummaging in the sea of buttery yellow before crunching on a handful. Hearing the grinding of his teeth, you snap your head away from under his arm and watch him with an incredulous look.
“How the fuck are you eating right now?” You say in astonishment.
“What? I’m hungry!” He says around a mouthful, spitting a few specks of popcorn out as he speaks, watching you with wide, oblivious eyes. “I missed lunch.”
You shake your head at him with a disbelieving smile before you lay your head back against his chest. You regret retreating from your hiding place, however, as you watch with twisted lips and cringing eyes as Marty tears and pulls at the layers of his own flesh. Not bearing to watch it any longer, you turn and press your forehead against his collarbone, blinking a few times before sealing your eyes shut and attempting to sync your racing heartbeat with Eddie’s freakishly calm one.
He catches you obscuring your vision and brings his resting arms to wind around your shoulders, attempting (and failing) to console you.
“Babe, it’s not real!” He laughs and you want to argue with him for acting so nonchalant about the horror taking place on screen. “Look, see, he’s fine!” He points to the T.V. as Marty returns from his delusions and stumbles off into the living room.
“I know that!” You defend. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t look real!”
He chuckles before pulling you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead, keeping his arms locked around you with his fingers chained together, a subtle reassurance that he was near and he wouldn’t let anything, ghost or otherwise, hurt you.
As misty figures descend the stairs of the Freeling home, you mutter under your breath, “God, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
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Your eyes are blown wide and you gnaw at your bottom lip as you watch the four adults struggle against the forces of what lies past the doorsill of the children’s closet. As you abuse your lip and pick at the flimsy chipping nail polish on your fingernails, Eddie detects your stressed, discomforted form and moves to lighten your spirits. He cranes his neck down and presses a long, soothing kiss to your temple. Your eyes grow wide once more at the unexpected show of affection and your picking and chewing cease.
When he pulls away, you turn to look at him, your eyes flicking over the details of his face as a smile blooms over yours.
“What was that for?” You question, though you didn’t care much for an answer, appreciating the display with or without reason.
“Just want to kiss you a little,” he says with a devious grin pulling at his cheeks and wrinkling his under eyes in just the way you find so endearing. He plants a fleeting peck against your lips before he continues with his theatrics, “Is that such a crime, sweetheart?”
He leans closer, nudging his nose along the length of your own before swooping to capture your smiling lips with his. After a passing giggle on your end, you sigh into his kiss, your chest heaving before releasing all of the tension that your body harbors through your nose. You sink into him, pressing against him and pulling him closer like some desperate thing. Your hands climb the plane of his chest, dancing over his shoulders and tickling that space between the sharp blades of his upper back, drawing a line with your middle finger; up and down, up and down.
He licks across the seam of your lips with a confident tongue and you grant him easy access, your tongues sliding against each other in a sultry tango, a practiced routine that makes you each so good with the other. You can taste the flavors of him, the palates that have lingered over his taste buds: the salt and butter from the popcorn, the sweet aftertaste of the Dr. Pepper he’d been sipping at for the past hour, even the bitter piquancy of burnt tobacco from the cigarette he’d smoked outside the video store. But you loved it, you savored it, reveled in the fact that no other person could make this combination of differing spices taste as delicious as when it was on him.
Eddie’s hands, pressed against the crest of your spine, support you as he leans forward, laying you over the seat cushions with gentle consideration. With you laid out under him, his hand slinks its way down the foothills and ridges of your spine, settling within the valley of the small of your back. There, he presses his fingers and encourages you to arch your back, pressing the expanse of your front against his own while he slides the solid mass of his thigh between your legs and lets its weight settle over your pelvis. You ride your thighs up along the sides of him, drawing your sock-clad foot over the slopes of his calf and thigh before twining your limbs together and hooking your leg over the back of his.
With a particular swipe of his tongue and the jolting coolness of his metal rings against your skin, having found their place past the hem of your shirt, you moan into his mouth with a keen whine.
He disconnects your mouths and travels across the apple of your cheeks and down along your jaw, biting and nipping at your sensitive flesh with a skilled precision.
“Mmm,” you hum, as he pinches that tender place below your jaw between his teeth.
Your fingers ascend from the nape of his neck to slip between the threads of his hair and run your nails over his scalp while knotting the strands around your fingers and tugging gently. His groan rumbles against your skin and tickles you as he laves his tongue over the indents left from his sharp bites. The vibrations urge you to open up for him, your head lulling towards the T.V. to offer him the untapped expanse of your throat.
You lazily blink at the T.V., eyelids fluttering open and closed erratically while glimpses of the movie register slackly within your brain.
Diane and Steve shout over the yowling suctioning winds of the closet, the panic within the scene growing and the tensions of the plot stirring. The sight insights a bothered feeling in the pit of your stomach and you whimper at the combined sensations of rising stakes and the feel of Eddie as he finds that particular space beneath your earlobe and nibbles on it.
You clamp your eyes shut and attempt to lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie, in the sure therapeutic comfort he radiates; the earthy, herbal scent of weed that clings to his hair, the woody undertones of Irish Spring peeking with every sniff you draw from his neck, the perfect weight of him that envelops you and compliments the curves of your body, and his hands. His hands, rough and calloused, the left one ornate with his set of rings, the coolness intruding yet pleasant. The way they kneed your skin, beckon you closer, hold you tight and protect you.
But the T.V. just seems so loud, swirling winds and cries of desperation and loss. You can’t help but to crack your eyes open and watch, regretfully, as a demon that looks like it crawled the volcanic terrain that lines Hell springs from the closet like a cruel Jack-in-the-Box. It calls a shivering roar as a ghostly blue light consumes the screen and paints the room the same ghastly color.
“Eddie!” You squeal at the sight and grip onto his shirt tighter, interrupting his ministrations on your throat as you turn your head to hide away from the screen, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck and closing your eyes with a determined force.
Eddie lifts his head at the sound and, in a panic, questions come flowing out of his mouth.
“What?! What happened?” His eyes are glassy and wide as he scans your face, or what he can see of it with you purposefully staring at the wall opposite the television. “Did I hurt you?” His voice shifts from alarmed to concerned, worry littering his face as he guides yours forwards to look at your eyes.
You shake your head ‘no’ with weepy eyes and usher his shoulders with an assertive hand to lower back over you, protecting and concealing you. His eyes shift with confusion until he catches sight of the screen, the scene having passed but aware nonetheless. He chuckles and smiles to himself before sighing and muttering.
“Well, I did ask for this, didn’t I?”
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The dulled sound of screaming and crying emits from the T.V.'s standard speakers as coffins erupt from the ground and the closet in the nursery attempts to suck Diane and her children into a purgatory between worlds. While chaos ensues on screen, Eddie finds you to be uncharacteristically silent; no whimpers or screams, no clutching at his arm with the deadly grip of a female silverback. You’re quiet. And your breathing is even.
“I’m surprised you’re not squeezing me to death,” he thinks out loud with a well-intentioned snicker. “This is the scariest part and you’ve barely made a—”
He angles his head down to try and catch your eye but only finds your restful face. Your eyes are closed and relaxed and your fisted hand is sliding down along his chest as you puff out near-silent snores. His teasing catches in his throat and he just smiles down at you, admiring the planes of your face and the way they're distorted with your awkward slumped position against him. He lifts his hand to cup your cheek and brush his thumb along its fullest part, smoothing against your under eyes and against the spot where your crow’s feet bloom.
With the Freelings, exhausted and spent, checking into the dingy Holiday Inn as the credits begin to roll, Eddie reaches forward to swipe the remote from the coffee table and click the T.V. off.
His body twists as he tries to orient his arm under your bent knees while moving, with caution, his other under your shoulders as your head rolls against his chest. With your body secured in his grasp, he lifts you from the couch with a subdued grunt and carries you off towards his bedroom.
You stir in his hold and nuzzle your cheek into his space heater of a chest.
“Eddie,” you call with a slowed, groggy voice.
“Yes, baby?” He whispers, leaning down to hear you better.
“I get to pick the movie next time,” you mumble.
He hums a laugh and smiles at your sleepy state.
“Whatever you say, Princess.”
He kicks the door to his room gently open with the toe of his socked-foot, wary of the creak the hinges emit towards the end. He does the best he can at pushing the comforter and sheets away with you in his arms before laying you over the mattress and pillows. He whispers with a gentle voice if he can remove your clothes for your comfort. You nod your head and lift your hips away from the bed so he can shimmy your legs out of your pants and toss them over his dresser.
He works on his own clothes now, pulling his shirt over his head and crumpling the fabric as he hurls it to an unknown corner, doing the same to his jeans after unhinging the buckle of his belt and hopping out of his pants with some difficulty towards the end. With his clothes done away with, he crawls into bed next to you, reaching for the comforter and sheets to pull them over the both of you. You snuggle into the added warmth before he winds his arms around your body and pulls you closer to him, your hands naturally coming to lay over the heated skin of his neck.
He hears you mutter something with hardly any force:
“But it wasn't all that bad.”
He smiles into your hair before kissing the crown of your head. He closes his eyes and reaches blindly for the lamp at his bedside table, clinking the bobbled chain as it switches off and the room lays still, engulfed in darkness.
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mojang-official · a year ago
What mob would do the best job of opening a coconut im asking for friend
so i thought about this a little bit too much and made a list of which mobs could either open a coconut, possibly open a coconut, or could not open a coconut, containing every single mob that has ever been in the game.
details below the cut
first some rules.
i've left out all passive mobs that aren't interesting, because you don't need pages of me saying every fish can't break a coconut.
all mobs are considered to have spawned with default equipment, nothing chance-based like enchanted weapons or armor on zombies, as that would be unfair.
- Villager/Wandering Trader/Illagers: All of these would be able to break open a coconut. Illagers are proof that villager-type bodies CAN uncross their arms, but simply choose not to. They are also capable of tool usage, and some villages spawn with stonecutters. However, this feels kind of cheap, so I'm putting them here, as it's not really a NATURAL ability to break the coconut so much as it is the tool's ability to break the coconut.
- Any fish: I appreciate the enthusiasm, but no.
- Horse/Cow/Donkey/Other hooved mobs: POSSIBLY. While I do think a horse could potentially build up enough force to break a coconut by trampling it, as someone who knows horses IRL, I am also relatively confident that they would also break their leg while doing it, because horse leg bones are made out of paper and glass. Cows and other hooved mobs MIGHT be able to crack it but I doubt they'd be able to build enough force.
- Baby Piglin: POSSIBLY. Babies do not use tools, but gold tools would probably be too soft to break open a coconut anyways. That said, those tusks are pretty strong, and while I'm not sure if a baby could use them to open a coconut, I'm going to say that baby piglins cannot.
- Turtle: A snapping turtle IRL definitely COULD break a coconut. Unfortunately the turtles in Minecraft are sea turtles, which do not have jaws as powerful as the snapping turtle.
- Bee: What's it gonna do, sting it open?
- Cave Spider/Spider: Technically neutral during the daytime. Sadly not able to open a coconut as a spider's mandibles, while effective at eating small insects, are completely useless for cracking open something armored like a coconut.
- Dolphin: This is in the neutral mobs section on the wiki for some reason. Sadly, no. Their jaws can eat fish but that's about it.
- Enderman: This one is interesting. An Enderman hits relatively hard, considering its weak-looking arms, and they are able to carry whole blocks, unique among mobs, but they can only carry relatively light blocks, so that doesn't help them. Their teleportation is obviously useless here. Ultimately, I will say that YES, an Enderman can in fact break a coconut, but with one caveat- they have to be angry. The open jaw of an Enderman is like a nutcracker, and if that closes on a coconut, I am near-positive it would break.
- Goat: A goat's charge could definitely carry enough force to break open a coconut. HOWEVER, it would have to be against a wall, otherwise it would just be launched. So, I'll put goats down as 'POSSIBLY'.
- Iron Golem: An iron golem does damage primarily through gravity, by launching its targets into the air and dropping them. Unfortunately, coconuts are designed to survive long falls from atop coconut trees. Iron golems would not be able to open a coconut.
- Llama: While llama spit does a surprisingly high amount of damage, it is not enough to break a coconut.
- Piglin/Piglin Brute: A piglin would be able to open a coconut. Their gold tools are basically useless in this scenario, but their tusks are not.
- Panda: Pandas can only eat bamboo. They are too weak to eat anything else. So no.
- Polar Bear: Look me in the eyes and tell me a polar bear wouldn't be able to open a coconut. It's heavy, it has claws. One of the few mobs I have to say would ALWAYS be able to open a coconut.
- Wolf: Sadly, wolves are too small to be able to open a coconut. The same goes for all cats.
Remember, the goal is to OPEN the coconut, not to destroy it in any other way.
- Blaze: If the coconut is ashes, it is no longer a coconut. It is also not open.
- Zombie/Husk/Drowned: Zombies have such weak hits that it takes a full crowd of them to kill an unarmored player. There is no way those arms would be able to hurt a coconut. This includes zombie villagers.
- Creeper: POSSIBLY. While the creeper's explosion MIGHT open the coconut, it also has equal odds to launch the coconut away or to vaporize it.
- Elder/normal Guardian: It does not have any method of physical attack, and the eye beam and psychic powers, while cool, will not help it open a coconut.
- Endermite: No.
- Evoker: While these do fall under the honorable mentions category from earlier, I felt it was worth mentioning that the metal jaws they summon from the ground are DEFINITELY enough to break a coconut, even without using tools.
- Ghast: Same issue as the creeper, but even less consistent due to their ranged method of attack.
- Hoglin: Hoglins do a COMICALLY large amount of damage. They also have enormous tusks. They would definitely be able to open a coconut, though babies might have a hard time with it.
- Magma Cube: Ashes are not a coconut.
- Phantom: Now, normally I would say that they could break a coconut, as they could pick up the coconut, fly up very high, and drop it from above. Unfortunately, phantoms do not have arms.
- Ravager: Yes. Have you SEEN those jaws?
- Shulker: It would take multiple shulkers to open a coconut, as they'd need to hit it continuously to re-apply levitation, until it was high enough for it to break when it falls. That said, it's possible for a single shulker to break a coconut, just not as consistent.
- Silverfish: A silverfish can bury through stone. They would be fine burying through a coconut. That said, I'm not certain if that counts as breaking it open, so I'll put them down as POSSIBLY, though of course it's open to interpretation.
- Skeleton: An arrow cannot break through a coconut when fired from a bow that small. A crossbow, maybe. But not the default Minecraft bow.
- Slime: Slimes are too bouncy. All the force would just launch the coconut away.
- Vex: A vex alone is too small to open a coconut.
- Witch: A potion of harming cannot break a coconut as it has no physical force.
- Wither Skeleton: Maybe. A stone sword could break open a coconut, but a skeleton can't hit with much force, and most of their damage comes from the wither status effect. Now, if that applied to a plant, it would probably rot the coconut. This is destruction, but it does not break the coconut open.
- Zoglin: Hoglins but even more forceful and evil. They would break a coconut.
- Ender Dragon: The coconut would fall into the void from the knockback and disappear. Not open, technically. Dragon breath is not physical damage and as such would be useless.
- Wither: The coconut no longer exists.
- Warden: Those jaws on its chest are impressive, and the strength of its attacks are pretty strong, too (at least in its current, unfinished state). It would almost certainly be able to break open a coconut, but due to its blindness, would probably have a hard time finding it to begin with.
- Giant: A giant cannot attack and as such would not be able to open a coconut, except maybe by accidentally stepping on it.
- Zombie horse: Same as horses, but more persistent. Also would break its leg.
- Killer Bunny: While those teeth are great at chewing through flesh, canon (Monty Python) shows it cannot chew through heavier armor or a human skeleton, and as such it would be useless against a coconut.
- Illusioner: Coconuts cannot see illusions because they cannot see.
- Pigman: Pigmen were never actually implemented. Only their textures were in the game, and as such they would not be able to break a coconut due to not having a physical form. The same applies to red dragons.
- Human: A 'human' would only do the amount of damage a player's fist would deal, so no dice there. Opening a coconut with your bare hands without using some kind of tool is impossible.
- Rana (& other humanoids): Rana and other removed early humanoid mobs could not open a coconut, as despite their less-blocky artstyle, they were incapable of holding any object.
...and that should be every mob that has ever been in the game.
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derryderrydown · 3 hours ago
Today I learned about Rhys Darby's failed DJ career.
Transcript under cut.
Rhys: Well, you know I did that, um, DJ course in the early 2000s when I was in London. For real. I actually did a course
Dan: Did you?
Rhys: I’ve told you guys this story
Dan: I’ve definitely not heard this
Buttons: I don’t know that I know this.
Rhys: I was going to be a DJ, okay. So this is back in the day when I was in London, I was obviously doing comedy, doing stand-up and things, and I was thinking, y’know, what else am I going to have as a career. So, I saw a six-week DJ course, ah, decided to sign up for it, learned key mixing, beat mixing, did the whole thing, turned up every week, and at the end you got a certificate, and you had to give your DJ name, that was on the certificate, and mine was- [laughter] I’m sure I’ve told you this!
Dan: No!
Buttons: I’m on the edge of my seat, what’s your MC name?
Rhys: It’s not that exciting
Buttons: What was it?
Rhys: It’s DJ Joker
Buttons: Aaah, that’s awesome!
Rhys: Yeah, here’s why the career didn’t flourish
Buttons: [laughs] Do you need to explain? I mean
Rhys: The guy said at the end, you’ve got to now get out there, get amongst it, and buy as much vinyl as you can. And for some reason, in my head, I thought we would be given all the records. I didn’t know that you then had to go and buy records.
Buttons: [laughing] Oh my god
Rhys: So the only records I had, I had three records. I had the soundtrack to Monty Python’s Holy Grail. I had Tour of Duty, the soundtrack, cause I like the Vietnam war songs. And I think I had, er, the Muppets. Those are the three. And I said, well, how much am I going to get done with this? And they said, well, y’know, good luck, you’re going to have to buy a lot of actual music. And so I gave up.
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is-the-snake-video-cute · 6 months ago
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Saw on reddit with the caption "Monty loves his sweater! Ordered from Etsy and he loves it so much! He’ll nosedive into it and just stay there ^^" 
I thought it was cute but I'd love your take
On the whole, this is very cute! Snake sweaters like this are okay as long as they're this size, small enough for the snake to easily get out of when it chooses. Ball pythons are kinda notorious for loving soft things (I keep soft hammocks meant for small mammals in my ball python enclosures for this reason), and this sweater is small enough that it won't limit movement or cause the snake any distress.
My sole concern here is the fireplace. It looks like very little smoke is going to be entering the house, but it's still worth being cautious - even a small amount of wood smoke can cause serious harm in a snake's lungs. I advise keeping snakes altogether out of rooms with lit fireplaces, no matter how good the ventilation is.
EDIT: as some people wonderfully pointed out, this looks like it might be a gas fireplace - which is fine, and prevents the snake from inhaling any harmful fumes! If that's true, this picture is 100% fine, but without being able to know for sure, it's always best to err on the side of caution!
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wouldntyou-liketoknow · a month ago
Characters and Headcanons and References, Oh My!
Lately I’ve been toying with the idea of Mark and Matt portraying similar characters (technically, Matt started it with WarfPat and DarkPat, lol). There’s Engineer!Mark and Mack, obviously, but then there’s HeeHoo and The Hermit, Wilford and MadPat, Darkiplier and AntiMatter (in my opinion, at least).
I really want to get back to writing soon, but I’m still having trouble with my motivation. I still don’t want my creative energy to go to waste, so I’ve thought up a few MatPat-inspired characters to act as alternatives for some of Mark’s characters. I hope you enjoy!
The alternative to Murdock/Murderplier
He’s a cannibal, as well as one of Murdock’s many body-disposal resources.
I think it’d be cool for the two of them to work for some kind of mafia that specializes in assassinations.
He’s involved in some areas of Black Market. He sells the bones and blood of his meals, as well as organs that aren’t fit for consumption (eyeballs and intestines, for example. Way too many acidic chemicals and bacteria to deal with).
Cannibal puns 24/7. He’s more subtle about it than The Hermit, but still. (“I’ve been told I have great taste in people. . .” “If anyone’s a humanitarian, it’s me!” “I am what I eat, after all.” “I’d love to have you for dinner~” etc.)
He has an ENORMOUS collection of butcher knives and medical blades. His favorite of them all is a damascus steel cleaver.
There’s a silver tooth cap in the place of his left upper canine. He lost said canine when one of his victims surprised him by grabbing his tenderizing hammer and hitting him in the mouth with it as they tried to escape. (This also left a small scar on his upper lip.) He recovered, but let’s just say he made that victim’s death extra painful. . .
He has a pet hare named Snare (reference to Matt’s childhood bunny, Sunny). Since hares are more intelligent than you’d think, Snare has been taught several tricks; mainly, how to follow certain targets, bite them, and then let Caliban swab his little teeth for blood in order to track said targets via DNA database. Don’t ask. . .
Caliban spoils Snare by feeding him the fingers of his victims as treats (reference to Monty Python’s Killer Rabbit).
He’s adjusted to having Murdock as a meal ticket, but he still has plenty of experience killing on his own.
Sometimes he’ll join in on the sadistic games Murdock likes to play with his victims. Murdock usually isn’t too thrilled with having to share the spotlight, but he also can’t deny how Caliban makes the taunting and threatening even more fun. 
Their relationship is both casual and professional. Some sarcastic jabs here, an exchange of morbid jokes there. But make no mistake, when Murdock and Caliban are working together, they are a terrifying force to be reckoned with.
The alternative to Yancy
He’s been convicted of tax evasion as well as several instances of kidnapping game developers and holding them for ransom. (His reasons for doing so? No one is quite sure. He gives a different explanation every time someone asks him. He swears these explanations are all connected, but that’s up for debate.)
Unlike Yancy’s case, Ozzie’s parents were abusive towards him, but he didn’t kill them. Instead, he ran away from home at an early age; sooner or later, he started engaging in theft in order to survive.
He was sent to Happy Trails Penitentiary because he managed to escape literally every other prison the authorities tried to keep him at.
He definitely has a plan to escape Happy Trails at some point in time, but it’s somewhat nicer than other prisons. Plus he’s met some interesting people there, so he’ll stick around for a little while.
He speaks with some kind of New Yorker accent. It’s just as over-exaggerated as Yancy’s Jersey accent, if not more so.
Sometimes Yancy will ask Ozzie for help with his musical projects. Whether Yancy is stumped on rhyme-schemes, indecisive about which lyrics to use, or just wants feedback on a new song, Ozzie is always happy to give advice. He loves theater.
The alternative to Porniplier
His stage name is Pat A. Cake. He’s gotten used to being called “Patty” for short (I like to think Porniplier’s pseudonym is Delux, due to all the costumes he uses).
He works at the same club as Delux. I’m going to call this club Areola 51 because I can.
He supports himself through exotic dance. He mainly does pole dancing (ahem), but he’s no stranger to cage dancing or chair dancing.
He also does some stripping since it pays so well, but that’s his limit. He genuinely enjoys dancing, but he’s a bit shyer about the more sexual stuff.
He’s almost always wearing heels, and he takes great pride in being able to perform in them (whereas Delux can barely even walk with heels on).
His go-to outfit for performing is a white corset with black lace-up leggings, a purple velvet choker, and a pair of wedge-heeled boots. (Yes, this is based off of that cutout image Matt uses in his videos, and no, you can’t do anything about it.)
He and Delux definitely have a rivalry, but it’s a friendly one.
They tease one another pretty often, but they’ve both been there for each other in more serious times. For instance, when Delux’s latest client was less than polite, or when Patty’s audience was too handsy for his liking.
The alternative to Illinois
His full name is, you guessed it, Pennsylvania. He finds that his nickname is much easier to go by. (And, quite frankly, he’s gotten sick of people asking if he has a sibling named Transylvania. Illinois was one of those people.)
Where Illinois is a treasure-hunter, Penn is more of a paleontologist.
He’s helped to discover at least three new species of dinosaur.  
Illinois spent his first few archaeological digs working with Penn. Illinois may love exploring ancient temples and the like, but that’s only for the fun of it. He believes that cultural artifacts should just be discovered and then left alone. He and Penn agree that collecting fossils for museums is much less immoral.
He has definitely yanked Illinois out of a boulder’s path once or twice.
He doesn’t understand why Illinois insists on carrying a whip with him.
He’s a bit more subtle in his flirting than Illinois is. But only a bit.
The alternative to EldritchPlier
Just like his counterpart, he’s a cosmic horror. He feeds off of human souls, but human thoughts and extreme human emotions can also satisfy him for a time.
He’s bound by the same supernatural rules as EldritchPlier–the primary one being that he can’t enter a place without explicitly being welcomed in.
Where EldritchPlier typically goes for doors, LeviathanPat will lurk outside of windows. He does this because it gives him an opportunity to watch his victims. That way, he can more easily gauge their reactions and plan his next move more carefully.
When he talks to his targets, he’ll try to make them sympathize with him rather than just flat-out bribe them. He’ll usually try his luck when the weather is bad in order to sell the act. (“þlêå§ê lê† mê ¢ðmê ïñ§ïÐê! ̆’§ §ð ¢-¢ðlР𵆠hêrê; Ì ¢åñ’† £êêl m¥ håñЧ åñ¥mðrê!”)
That being said, if his target shows hesitation or gets onto him quickly, he’ll definitely lose patience and go on the defensive. He’ll try to make them feel guilty for refusing to help someone who’s supposedly sick and/or injured.
He chooses his targets in advance, then waits for an opportunity to get them alone near the window. Then he’ll tap on the glass to get their attention. He typically only hunts at night, since darkness makes humans more susceptible to fear/paranoia/disturbance.  
He’s able to shapeshift, but he doesn’t like looking completely human. When talking to his targets, he’ll appear as a vague, semi-fluid silhouette with only his glowing eyes truly visible.
If his target gets on his nerves, his shape will begin changing more sporadically as he grows more and more frustrated. His eyes will also shift in the way of turning bloodshot, changing colors, maybe even bulging or melting in their sockets.
Since it’s kind of impossible for a room to be built without a door and at least one window, EldritchPlier and LeviathanPat often end up going for the same target. When that happens, they’ll argue over said target for an ungodly amount of time.
Anyone else have ideas for more characters like this? I’d love to brainstorm!
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sm-baby · 5 months ago
A little curious but which of your characters would you consider to have a nice singing voice and which one of them just doesn't?
Birches + Simpletons:
He does have a singing voice! Not the most melodic or best sounding, in fact he's rather monotoned, but he can sing more poetic songs that don't necissarilly include a melody.
He likes acoustic guitar type music
She doesn't sing much anymore, but hey. Simon as a kid loved hearing her.
She likes old timey traditional music
For some reason my brain thought of Grace and Leonardo with this Audio, even though, like i said, Leonardo wouldn't have that much of a tune-
Erma & Sheldon:
Good singers! Often the life of the party at times! Erma likes swing music. Sheldon likes Jazz-
Simon & Catherine:
I gotta nerf these two, they cant sing 😔✋
Catherine would be too out of tune, Simon struggles with voice cracks
They also like swing and jazz -w-... Their favorite genre of music is what the old folks like believe it or not.
Damien ain't got no skin in the game, neither does Maria
Catch Monty humming down the halls when he's on his way to his victim's cellars... Also a pretty great "oh im cute and sweet" cover up...Pretty average voice ûwû
Shermy - Shermy leads choirs- i- she has knowledge with how music goes
Herobrine + Steve: You know i was gonna pull a whole dad move and say Steve would sing very out of tune and it would annoy yet endear his friends but then I remembered HEROBRINE is an ANGEL so they can PROBABLY SING.
Alex - Alex has a pretty decent singing voice ûwû.. not the best but not the worse either!
Player - cannot sing
Bitch boy does not know what singing is. And if he does all he probably knows are army songs.
Pretty average, would be very monotoned and almost soft
James can sing! Mark cant! Elsa can! Wilbert squeals and calls it singing!
He caNNOTTT SING. The witches love that about him. Goes to karaoke night and blows everyone's nonexistent ears off
THEY CAN ALL SING. DO THEY USE IT APPROPRIATELY? SOMETIMES NO. They sing pretty dumb music sometimes to keep moral up
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technetiumai · 2 months ago
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Hi all!
Thank you for the Six Sentence Sunday tags @bazzybelle, @captain-aralias, @cutestkilla, @bookish-bogwitch, and @ivelovedhimthroughworse. I was too wrapped up in other stuff to post anything, but I loved reading what everyone’s working on!
So, I have decided to start writing the Niamh-is-a-vigilante dystopian fic. My current WIPs are Atomic Son and Silence and Cries, and Silence and Cries is requiring a lot of research (which is mostly auxiliary and possibly unnecessary, but... my process is my process) which is making the process very slow going, and I’m struggling with the Atomic Son scenes that I’m working on, to the point where it’s just better to have something else to brain barf into while I’m ruminating on that. So, even though I don’t really like having so many WIPs, here we are. I felt like I needed another thing, and this is the thing, apparently.
It is pretty absurd so far (not in like a goofy Monty Python way, but in a wth is going on, this universe makes absolutely no sense, who thought of this way), and I’ve decided to roll with it. In the grand scheme of things I haven’t been writing for very long, and I’ve certainly never written anything like this. The only way to learn is just to do it. 
There will be cliches and endlessly cringy dialogue. There will be bizarre set-pieces with no reasonable explanation. There will be forced attempts at explanations that don’t actually hold up to any scrutiny. It will be ridiculous, and that will be okay. (Can you tell I’m trying to talk myself up about this?)
CW: References to being in the middle of a suicide attempt.
“I came here thinkin’ no one else would be here.”
“Funny thing, that. I came here knowing it’s where people go to fall from tall heights to die quick deaths.”
“Is that why we come here?”
“Isn’t it?”
I let my body fall forward a bit, leaning out over the edge. “Perhaps there’s hope amongst the trees. Hope that can’t be found up here.”
“Can’t think what good hope would do you when your body’s turned to mush at the bottom of the forest.”
I finally look at him. He’s got bronze curly hair and kind eyes. He’s clearly a mitling, he’s not trying to hide it. If I couldn’t tell by his voice, I could tell by his clothes. The clothes of the upper-class, only a generation or so past. Patched up and loose fitting, but not filthy and put back together piecemeal like most of the clothes worn by my people.
“So, you make a habit of… interrupting people?”
“You could say that.”
“What’s the game? You try to convince me that life’s worth livin’?”
“Oh,” he chuckles, “‘no. Nothing like that. I didn’t come here to lie to you, or fill you up with ideas that even I don’t believe. I’d just like to propose,” he makes a gesture of ambivalence, “an alternate way of dying.”
“This way seems perfectly suitable for me, thank you, Mr.---”
He holds out his hand for me to shake. “Simon Snow.”
“Simon Snow.”  I don’t lift my hand. “Is that fake?”
He lets out a good natured sigh and drops his hands. “‘Course it’s fake, Niamh. I’m asking you to become an assassin for a secret society plotting the downfall of the government.”
“So that's it, is it?”
He shrugs and bobs his head in affirmation.
“Fair enough, then. Though it hardly seems fair, seein’ as you know my name. “
“Of course I know your name. I’m asking you to become an assassin for a secret society plotting the downfall of the government.”
Not much so far, but it’s a start. It will be called “Night-Switch Paragons” and it will come out... eventually... and at whatever pace I can manage...
Tagging some of the people who said they’d be interested in this au when I posted about it before: @prettylightsbigcity, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon
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steve0discusses · 4 months ago
Yugioh S5 Ep 36 Part 2: It took like 100+ Episodes, but We Finally Found Seto’s Dead Wife
For April Fools I decided to actually make an update on this blog in a timely matter from the last update. Consider yourself Pranked.
So Shada and Seto are having a bit of a fight about how Seto’s just kind of throwing everyone into prison and we’re running out of essential workers. Not that much of a surprise that Shada and Seto don’t like eachother, but it does make you wonder--does anyone in the cult even like Seto other than Aknadin (which...that’s stuff we will get to later at the end of this episode) honestly, it’s kind of hard to tell.
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Oh and PS they’re being carried on one of those hand held chariots which makes this whole segment just a lot more funny.
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(Even in the past, Seto largely is being used for a ride).
Anyway, he exits the roller coaster and is like “For your information, I’m NOT a mass murderer, SHADA.” In front of like allll these people standing behind him within earshot. To which Shada was like “but you can calm down, youknow? Like can you ever calm down? A little bit? Maybe?”
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It was a conversation that does not matter because Shada decided to go along with it anyway, and is now going to help Seto for the rest of this episode just slurping up soul demons, as you do.
Freakin Shadi, man. To think he was just always like this. Helping people one moment, screwing people the next...whatever Shadi, you do you.
(read more under the cut)
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During this Episode, Bakura did a lot of artsy shots for the commercials, just shooting his own music video, doing things that really had like...eh no bearing on the plot but I’m sure they looked cool for the trailer.
Here he got really wet and then was like “Time to go kill everyone else, I guess” and then exited the scene.
That’s it, that’s the whole scene, and I’m glad that the creators of this show knows what the fans of their show want: wet Bakura with little reason as to why.
So Seto decides to do some public trials with Shada just square in the middle of the street. A very Monty Python “bring out your dead!” moment because I’m sure everyone just started chucking their neighbors onto the pyre. Like I have this neighbor who has this brand new lawn mulch and bushes they put in because it’s a freakin drought, and they stuck a bunch of signs on it that say “Do Not Poop Or Pee. Be Respectful.” with a picture of a dog with an X over it and also a picture of the police and also a picture of a security camera (which I guess they will hand over to the police? Not sure). That guy would hand over like half the town in a heartbeat.
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Really want to know what “disrespect the pharaoh” means in this context, especially since their current Pharaoh has been Pharaoh for 5 minutes and has already burned down the town once and then the next day put the entire city under martial law.
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Right about the time Seto was about to give up and go home with just a single dumbass clown in his arsenal, Season 2 happened.
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Some footage for your AMVs. Yugioh knew what teens wanted in 2003.
Speaking of over-done fx and what teens wanted in 2003, did you hear that the Avatar the Last Airbender live action Netflix remake cost 15 million dollars an episode to make? :) :) :) :) :) :) Only a matter of time before it gets cancelled and we’re one adaptation closer to an absolutely terrible Yugioh one, you know it’s going to happen. :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
Anyway it’s been five minutes and Joey ran out of snacks.
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(right after I made this post PS, I went onto twitter and saw a tweet that said “You ever open a TinTin from the 80′s that looks like it was drawn in 1870?” so like apparently I was being way more gracious than I thought.)
I figured I’ve used enough TW’s for one Yugioh blog, lets just crop out his entire face, because that’s funnier. Honestly the worst part of him is his accent, and thankfully that can’t be truly expressed with written words.
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Besides, we gotta get sidetracked from the genie and meet the wife, who is getting literally stoned to death.
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Kind of a lot of whiplash this episode, huh!? But it wouldn’t be an anime without whiplash, would it?
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Joey remarks “oh, that’s why the rocks aren’t hurting me like at all.” And it was like...Joey.
Anyway, welcome to Seto’s girlfriend. From what I can gather this episode, this girl is constantly in a state of distress. Like honestly I don’t know much about her, but I dunno if there’s been a single moment in this girl’s entire life where she isn’t in the process of getting killed or being killed, except when Seto is around or when she is a Dragon.
I get that her having the worst monster around means no one likes her, but also...she should just eat them. Like I can see why people like this ship--I don’t want to sound like a ship hater--because she lacks security and he can give her security, and that’s very much part of writing a romantic lead. You have to have two people that lack something that the other person can give them for the audience to fall for it.
But this is very much the token girlfriend that you fall in love with because she needs to be saved by a powerful man, however, she’s already the most powerful monster besides the God Cards. Like she’s freaking buffed as hell, man. So...maybe it made more sense on paper. Maybe it’ll make more sense next episode.
Overall, Yugioh ain’t great at writing girls (or romance) and that is nothing new. They had SO MANY EPISODES of building up this girl, too. But my expectations were low, and they were met.
Anyway Seto arrives and is like “oh crap I know this girl from my childhood oh crap.” and suddenly has a moment of “should I steal her soul demon like I said I would, although no one actually wants me to do that at all, or do I...not?”
Remember that like 10 minutes earlier Aknadin and Shadi and basically everyone was like “just stop taking the demons for five seconds you have enough monsters in your obelisk” but like...Seto promised to do this, because in Seto’s mind, he’s doing this soul stealing to help the Pharaoh, after all--the Pharaoh who is Yami and absolutely doesn’t need him to steal a damn thing because he already has God Cards.
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Bro was like “Seto might be ripped but look at the bricks behind him” and yeah. Basically everyone in Egypt lifts in their spare time. Life before the internet, man.
That’s also what I assume everyone in the 1980′s was doing too, instead of sitting around writing Yugioh blog posts and eating these offbrand thin mints.
(You wouldn’t believe it but I drove all the way to Safeway in This Economy and not only is Girl Scout season over, but all of the Keebler grasshopper cookies were gone, so I had to get the Safeway storebrand of the offbrand thin mint and it’s fine. It’s a fine cookie, but it has an aftertaste that is very weird.)
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And so Seto whisks away this girl while Shada just kinda lets it happen, because Shada just does whatever.
Not sure why he needed to keep it a secret from Pharaoh though. Was he worried that Yami would be like “No saving dying girls in this house, Seto!” Because while everyone else seems to know about Yami’s personality and overall willingness to save dying human beings--Seto seems dubious.
But Seto is a sort of paranoid person anyway so that tracks.
Next time we find out more about dragon girlfriend and if she ever had a good day in her entire life and you already know, she has not.
Anyway, here’s the list of each episode in chrono order for you if you want to read these from the beginning:
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power-chords · 11 months ago
Just some food for thought via Andrew Hickey, who also happens to be the writer/music historian responsible for A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs, one of the only podcasts I can stand to listen to:
The thing that clued me in to Elvis’ neurodivergence, that unlocked this for me, was Sam Phillips talking about signing Elvis. Phillips is often quoted as having wanted “a white man who can sing like a Black man”, but when you listen to the earliest recordings of Elvis, there’s no sensible way anyone could have thought of him that way. What Phillips *actually* said was that “his insecurity was so markedly like that of a Black person.” In particular, in the South at that point, Black people didn’t look white people in the eye. Nor did Elvis.
Both Phillips and Carl Perkins said that Elvis was the most introverted person ever to enter a recording studio, in more or less those exact words.
As a young man, Elvis had very few real friends. He was extremely close to his parents, especially his mother, with whom he almost had a private language and could communicate in a way he couldn’t with anyone else, but had difficulty making friends his own age. He would often hang out with people like Johnny and Dorsey Burnette, who lived nearby. They would bully him, but they’d let him stand on the edge of the group and sing when they were singing.
Later in life, Elvis would surround himself with the “Memphis Mafia”, a group of people to whom he was intensely loyal, even though they were mostly taking advantage of him.
Elvis was known for being constantly in movement, fingers twitching and legs tapping all the time.
He was extremely poor at emotional regulation, and could swing wildly in mood.
He was a very naturally talented actor, who could lose himself in a role (though he was never given the chance to grow).
Before becoming a singer, he worked for a time as an electrician, but he was very bad at it. He kept giving himself electric shocks, and once said it was a miracle none of the houses he worked on had burned down.
He was very into martial arts, which he liked because it allowed him a sense of control over his body.
Some of his stage costumes in the seventies were patterned on his favourite comic-book character, Captain Marvel Jr.
He was a voracious reader and would bring three trunks filled with books on tour with him.
His famous hip-shaking actually started as nerves — he was trembling the first time he was on stage, and it made his baggy trouser legs shake, which the audience took as intentional.
He watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail thirty-five times, and could quote it from memory. He was also a particular fan of Peter Sellers.
He had a highly restricted diet, and had specific issues with textures — food had to be prepared a particular way, with bacon almost burned and eggs hard, and he would eat particular combinations of food many other people found disgusting. People to this day mock him for his taste for peanut-butter, bacon, and banana sandwiches.
He had real problems with sleeping — he was naturally nocturnal, and often had to rely on medical help to get onto a somewhat-diurnal schedule. Even with pharmaceutical help he rarely slept more than three hours at a time.
He had bad skin — the thing people note most about him as a young man was that he had terrible acne on his neck.
He had a near-photographic memory, and would learn and retain a song after hearing it only once. He had an encyclopaedic knowledge of music.
And perhaps most importantly, for much of the last few years of his life he was chronically ill but didn’t present that way. The prescription drug use for which he became notorious after his death was a combination of things to treat his sleep problems, and pain medication. The thing that eventually killed him was not his lifestyle, as reported — he had a variety of genetic, stress-related, inflammatory and autoimmune conditions which made him put on weight, including the hypertension that led to his eventual heart attack. These seem to have been inherited from his mother (who also died in her forties). Again, it’s not a formal diagnostic criterion of autism that one has autoimmune problems, but anecdotally the *vast* majority of autistic people have them (there’s a reason the average life expectancy for an autistic person is fifty-four).
But the pain medication… Elvis told his doctors, for years, that he was in a huge amount of pain. They thought he was faking, because he didn’t “act like” someone in pain — they thought he was after drugs. So sometimes he was prescribed real opiates, but other times he would be given placebos, made to look like the drugs that worked. When those didn’t work, he took more of them, so when he got the real stuff he took more than he should, which made the doctors believe he was just after drugs…
After his death, when those same doctors re-examined X-rays of him, it was obvious he had arthritis, and had really been in unspeakable agony for years. But he’d just not seemed like he was in pain to the doctors. He didn’t act how a person in pain “should” act.
Again, nobody who isn’t neurodivergent will read the above and be convinced. But I think if you’ve any experience of the neurodivergent community, you’re going to read that, and come to the same conclusion as me.
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belphies-pillow · a year ago
Hello! My request is the boys reaction to a F!MC who has a crush on a lower level demon? (Not really a crush but they think the demon is really hot?) anytime the demon is around MC always buries their face in one of the brother’s chest and goes “ahh he’s so fucking hot!”
Gffgh!!! I like this idea! It started to get a little long so I went with Lucifer, Mammon and Levi. If there’s any of the other bros you’d like for it, just let me know!♥️
Warnings: fem!MC, minor cursing, minor characteristic/plot spoilers (nothing too revealing)
MC Crushing Over a Lower Level Demon
(Featuring Luci, Mams and Levi!)
You were both walking across the RAD campus to a class you have together when you spotted the demon of your affections. You let out a squeal of joy, burying your face into the bro’s chest. Thinking it was about them at first made them feel a bit cocky. “Of course MC would be fussing over me.” However when he saw you peek and look at aforementioned crush and blush, his eyes went wide with realization......
The king of passive agression lol
“That’s quite enough MC, cease your antics or we’ll be late to class.” After noting who the demon is, you both head to class, his eye slightly twitching and generally radiating a sinister aura. Despite how many times you asked him what was wrong, he insisted it was nothing.
“Lucifer...your letting out an aura of pure murder, Mammon nearly shat himself and ran out the door when he saw you.”
“I have no idea to what you are referri....wait. Mammon left the school grounds?” RIP Mams
He’s the avatar of pride! Strongest of the seven lords of hell! Right hand man of the prince! How could you prefer the company of some low level peasant??
Pride in tatters, he becomes determined to win you over. He looked up your crushes info in the RAD school files, specifically their class schedule. Made excuses as to why you had to start taking different routes to class then usual, which just “coincidentally” lead you to be on opposite sides of the campus as your crush.
Will put Mammon to shame with the exorbitant amounts of money he spends trying to impress you. Peacocks gotta be flashy ya know? Will rent out your favorite restaurant, so it’s only the two of you with a specially created menu, the finest wine/champagne and a string quartet. You’ll also be blinding people with the reflection from all the bling you wind up with.
Oh! Remember that one time you told him as a little girl you dreamed about owning a pink unicorn?
“MC my darling, take a look out the window.”
“......IS THAT A PINK UNICORN??!! 😍”
“Of course, unlike some lowly demons that may scurry about in your presence. I will always see that your every wish, dream and desire be fulfilled.”
You just about swooned! but then...
*rapidly approaching footsteps, before a loud bang, the door to lucifers office exploding. Revealing a very angy, demon form Satan*
Sad tsun-tsun.
“W-what the hell is wrong with ya MC?! Let go!” Doesn’t really want you to let go.
The one to openly bad mouth the other demon. “They’re a chump MC! How could ya like someone like that?!”
Sulks like you would not believe and clings to you like a shadow. Always trying to distract you when at RAD if your crush is nearby.
“Hey MC! Check out this cool broom closet!”
*gets thrown in*
Once he comes to terms that you don’t love him in a romantic sense, the script flips. He becomes insanely protective and now no one is good enough for his human!
Has the “If you hurt them, I will kill you” talk. Reminds your crush he’s the second born for a reason.
Keeps tabs on you via his crow familiars. (I headcanon there’s one crow who’s in charge of the rest and is an obnoxious little shit. Think Malak from the Arcana 😆)
*MC out on a date, about to lean in for a kiss with their crush when...*
“MC! There’s a crow in here!”
“Hey! Get lost beak boy!”
*gasps* “Don’t you take that tone with me!”
*MC’s date watching them arguing with the crow when they feel a chill run up their spine, turning around to see Mammon peering around a corner at them*
Good luck MC lol
At first was so overwhelmed and thought “This is so moe!!!!” Then when realizing it wasn’t him you were fussing over “This is why I don’t leave my fucking room!”
Bails on class and didn’t come out of his room for like four days. You ended up having to trick him into opening the door with the Seraphina figurine Mammon had in his room but it worked! After talking things out with Levi and assuring him that no matter what you’re still his bestie he’ll come out of hiding.
Still a jelly snek though, everything your crush does is scrutinized by Levi and is promptly called a “normie.”
Decides to test your crush....by trapping them in one of his virtual customizable rpg games.
“The lord of shadows commands thee to embark on a perilous quest! One that shall determine your right to be in the presence of my Henry!”
A daunting task sure, but made even tougher due too the fact that Levi gave your crush the assigned role of “demoted bard.” Basically think about the guy in Monty Python that had to follow behind banging the coconuts to make it sound like they were riding horses.
No weapons, no special skills, just coconuts 🥥
Yeah.... you had to go in and rescue them.
Arriving just in time to see them hiding up a tree with an angry bandersnatch trying to shake them out.
Once rescued two things may occur! Your crush runs away screaming. Or! They become more determined and continue on their journey with you tagging along to finish the quest!
If they do? Levi will dub thee worthy of his Henry!
Congratulations crush! Not only did you get MC but also now have a new snek bestie. ♥️
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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 4 months ago
The other day I posted a video of John Oliver on The Russell Howard Hour, which is just one of my favourite interviews I’ve ever seen, of anyone, by anyone. It’s a very, very good segment on its own merits, but particularly interesting to me because for some reason I get really excited at anything that connects John Oliver directly to Britain.
I’m not even sure why this is. I think it has to do with how long I’ve watched John Oliver without thinking of him as British; I mean he had the accent but that could come from anywhere. He could have picked that up from listening to a lot of BBC Radio. He seems like someone who might have done that. I think I did vaguely know that he’d gone to Cambridge University in a previous life, but didn’t really put that together with the fact that it meant he’d have started out in the same place as the Britcom shows I loved when I was young.
In my mind there were Canadian and American shows, and those came from places I could drive to that definitely existed, and the people I knew in real life also knew about these shows. And then, because my dad was into British comedy and shared it with me as well when I was a kid, there were all these other shows that came from a magical land across the ocean and felt like they were just mine an his. With a few exceptions – everyone I knew could quote Monty Python’s Holy Grail. But my dad and I were the only people I knew who’d seen Yes Minister, and I was pretty sure it was part of the canon that only my dad and I knew about. I mean, my mom knew about it, because it was frequently playing in the house. But she didn’t enjoy it.
John Oliver, however, was very much part of the real world. He was on The Daily Show, and everyone knew about The Daily Show. I watched The Daily Show after school every day in high school, and then after… whatever I was doing at the time every day in the years after high school, and John Oliver was my favourite part of The Daily Show for several years. His last episode, in 2013, made me properly sad, because I didn’t know beforehand that he was going to leave, because it hadn’t occurred to me to keep up with this stuff on the internet. I’m sure if I had, I’d have seen articles that said John Oliver was about to leave The Daily Show and go do his own thing on HBO. But it didn’t occur to me to look up whether he might be doing that. Being the person I am, I tend to assume everything is going to stay the same forever, and then just get upset when it doesn’t.
So John Oliver came on with Jon Stewart and they started to talk about the queen, and then Jon asked him if he liked that bit they’d written on the royal family and if he thought it was a good bit and they should definitely do it on the show, and John looked very confused, and then Jon said it was his last episode and of course they weren’t really going to talk about the queen, they were going to do a retrospective of John Oliver’s time at The Daily Show. To this day, that might be the “surprise moment” on TV that I most hope wasn’t staged. Because John Oliver looked genuinely surprised, and Jon Stewart told the audience that they really had written an entire bit about the queen just to tell John Oliver that he was coming on for that so they could surprise him with the sendoff, and I choose to believe that is true because it was the perfect way to end something I hadn’t even known was going to end. I got rather emotional watching that.
John Oliver turning up on The Daily Show every night to talk about Carlos Danger or whatever was a staple of life, and you can’t just go changing things like that. Later on, when Jon Stewart left The Daily Show, that was also upsetting but at least I was warned. I heard about that one months in advance because people posted it all over Facebook; I’ll actually always remember he announced that he was leaving in February of 2015 because I remember sitting in my room in the city where I temporarily lived that year, and first learned about the announcement from seeing someone share a Valentine’s Day card that read: “May Jon Stewart be the only man to break your heart this week.” He actually left that summer, after a final episode with Bruce Springsteen performing, it was pretty cool. Not cool that he left, but a cool last episode.
Of course I’ve been watching Last Week Tonight since it started, once I finished watching John Oliver’s last episode and Googled it to see what the fuck was going on with the people just moving around and changing things in my television show, and learned that I actually can see more of John Oliver and he isn’t just disappearing from TV forever. In fact, he did quite the opposite of that. Last Week Tonight was a great show, and still is.
The point is that that is what John Oliver is to me, and has been for many years. Well that, and Ian Duncan from Community. It never fails to make me laugh hysterically that he was Ian Duncan on Community. Partly because Ian Duncan was a funny character on a funny show, and partly because Ian Duncan was John Oliver. I don’t even have to re-watch the show (I mean, I do re-watch the show sometimes, I sometimes specifically seek out episodes Ian Duncan in them just to re-watch those, and that’s great) – I can just remember that John Oliver was Ian Duncan on Community, and it makes me laugh.
The Daily Show, Last Week Tonight, and Community are all shows that people talk about in real life and that come from places I could theoretically reach without a plane ride or a trans-Atlantic ship. That makes them feel fundamentally different, to me, from shows that come from the magical land of Great Britain. I realize that just saying this is probably vaguely problematic in some way, I’m perpetuating American ethnocentrism without even being American. Can Canadians do that? North American ethnocentrism. So sorry about that. But it is how things feel from here.
The upshot of this is that is weird in a really, really cool way to me when John Oliver gets directly connected to British comedy. It sort of grounds everything in reality, reminds me that these things do technically all exist in the same world. And it’s like… it’s like backstory on one of my favourite characters. Like if I found out they wrote a whole prequel to a book series that’s focused on a character I like, explaining how that character came to be who and where they are. And how they have a whole other life connected to their backstory, and sometimes even during the main books, they go visit that life and their accent becomes more regional and they wear sweaters instead of suits. That’s… that’s basically what how it feels to watch that interview that Russell Howard did with John Oliver in 2017.
I re-watch that interview occasionally, and every time, I think “God, I would love for these two have a show together.” Obviously there are logistical issues with that given the existence of the Atlantic Ocean, but those could be solved. A show over Zoom – everyone did it during COVID. Russell even did interview John Oliver again over Zoom in September 2020, and that was also lovely. They could just keep doing that. I’m not picky about the format or anything. I realize they’re busy people. Make it a show where they barely have to prepare and can talk about stuff they know about anyway because they have to research the news for their own shows, or even just talk about nothing at all, I don’t care. Talk about their day. That would be fine.
The other day, I posted this video, and said I’ve just realized that what I’m describing is a podcast. Two people who may or may not be in the same place ramble together about whatever and that’s the show. I realized as I was writing that that that’s just what podcasts are. So, okay, that’s what I want. I want a podcast where sometimes John Oliver virtually goes back to Britain and turns into that more British version of himself that he became in his interview with Russell Howard, and talks for a while.
Here's what hit me today, and I absolutely cannot believe I didn’t think of it earlier: that fucking exists. I don’t have to ask the universe to create that, because John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman have already created it. This entire post was just a very, very long way to say that last night I found an archive with the first 200-ish episodes of The Bugle, and I downloaded all of them. I’ve known about that show for a while, I vaguely thought it was the sort of thing I should check out sometime, but somehow, until last night, I never thought of the fact that it is exactly the sort of thing I’ve been wishing existed.
As I said earlier this week, the stasis is ending soon. I’m going to be doing my in-person coop term to finish my college program in about a month. I’m going to be going back to coaching my sports team soon (I was supposed to go back to the first practice last night, but then positive COVID tests occurred so I’ll be waiting at least another week, and that definitely freaked me out as a thing to have happen there just when I’d finally decided I’m ready to go back, but anyway, I’m trying not to think too much about that). I’m not going to have time to spend so many of my non-sleeping and non-working hours watching silly TV shows anymore. The era of my life that’s been defined by Britcom and the community around it that I’ve found on this website is… I won’t say it’s “wrapping up”, but it’s going to change. I’m not good with change.
I only have one TV show left on my list of shows to watch, and I don’t want to add more, at least for now. Because I’m bad at balancing things, and I’m way out of practice with balancing real life and watching TV shows, so I want the first little while of real life to occur while I’m not also wanting to get home and watch whatever new show is on my list. But you know what there’s always time for? Podcasts. I can listen to podcasts while taking the bus or the train to my work placement. I can listen to podcasts while walking to practice. I can listen to podcasts on a lunch break.
So… yeah, that’s the post. I’ve downloaded The Bugle, starting from the very first episode, so all the episodes I’ve acquired are from when John Oliver was there. Haven’t started listening to it yet, so I guess it’s possible that I’ll listen to one episode and say “Oh never mind, that’s a terrible show”, and then I’ll delete the 200-ish audio files I’ve just downloaded. But I’m pretty sure that won’t happen. Andy Zaltzman is a great News Quiz host. John Oliver is a great Last Week Tonight host. I love a crossover episode.
So now I have old episodes of The News Quiz circa Sandi Toksvig’s era, and old episodes of The Bugle circa John Oliver’s era, as easily portable bits of British comedy that I can take with me into the real world and listen to on the bus. I’m going to become very familiar with British news from 2007 and the bunch of years that followed it. I am pleased with this decision.
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magicalbeanie · a year ago
Pairing: batboys x reader
Blurb: it is not often about the act as much as it is about the meaning behind the intimacy of someone pressing their lips against any part of you. there is a feeling of being loved, a feeling of safety, and a wordless message of love being passed on.
Warnings: mention of injury and death
A/N: *blows kisses to you*
You're not entirely sure what brought on his sudden desire to join your early morning workaholic whims.
You knew he was tired, he knew he was tired, but he pushed on and joined you as you let yourself catch up to the work you had on your laptop, with paperwork strewn all over the floor while your laptop stuck true to its name on your lap.
It was an odd early morning habit you had but it worked for you.
When he caught himself falling asleep for the fifth time, you slowly put down your laptop, and went to sit next to him. The faint shade of red on his cheeks was adorable, but the apologetic look in his eyes confused you.
"You're tired." You stated matter-of-factly.
"A little? I'm sorry, I'll get some coffee and then-" He made to stand up but you stopped him, and grabbed his hand.
"We both know you're too tired to be staying up with me right now, what's wrong?" You had known something was wrong the minute he offered, but you figured he'd eventually tell you, but he hadn't.
Dick heaved a defeated sigh. "I just- I'm never home lately and I don't get to see you. I don't want you to think that I'm not aware of how busy this week has been and how I've seen you for all of five minutes."
He was feeling guilty.
Understandable and endearing, but you could never hold against him what he did for his city, and sometimes the world. You had known as soon as you found out about his alter ego what you were getting into, and you loved him all the same. You didn't want him to think he had to sacrifice the few hours of rest he had to prove his love to you. He did that every day.
You gently grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his cheek.
A silent language of reassurance between the two of you that had been forged in the early days of your relationship.
"How about we both go back to bed?" You offered with a smile.
He looked pointedly at your unfinished work and back at you. A laugh escaped your lips.
"I can finish it later, let me go put these papers away and I'll join you in bed and we can sleep, okay?" You didn't give him an opportunity to answer as you stood up, grabbed your papers and your laptop and moved them to your desk.
He watched you walk away with a look of pure adoration and love in his eyes.
He knew you were going to be upset.
Jason knew you hated it when he came home injured beyond what you could do to help him.
So when Alfred had to make the call to summon you to the Batcave, he knew he was in for an earful.
And sure enough, when you walked in and saw his injured state, the worried look in your eyes intensified and you had that frown that always formed right before you chastised him for being reckless.
He slowly tried to ease himself up on the bed, but one look from both you and Alfred was enough to convince him that dying once had been bad enough. He didn't want to risk it again with either of you.
You folded your arms, and looked at him expectantly.
"I know. I know you're upset but this time, I swear there's a valid reason." He started.
You raised an eyebrow skeptically. He had used that one before.
"There was a kid. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and there was a stray bullet coming right at him. So I- I didn't think. I just- I couldn't let him- " He couldn't finish his sentence, and you didn't need him to.
You knew how sensitive the topic was to him. Your face softened as you remembered when he'd told you the story of how he had come to be the Red Hood. It seemed natural that in that moment, he'd seen himself in that child.
Alfred silently excused himself, sensing an impending private moment between the two of you.
You slowly walked towards Jason, joining him on the bed. He pulled you closer to him, a habit he had whenever you were physically close to him.
You turned to him, slowly brushing the hair away from his face. "I understand. I wouldn't expect you to be anything other than as selfless as you were in that moment, considering the circumstances. I hope you're not in too much pain."
He gave you a relieved, albeit slightly dazed smile. The medicine was starting to kick in, leaving him drowsy. "Tis but a scratch."
You slapped him lightly on the shoulder. Only Jason would find the time to quote Monty Python at you when he was injured. "You're awful, Todd."
He winked at you in response. "Awfully attractive."
You sighed in defeat.
He made himself comfortable on your chest, despite it not being a good position in his current state. You decided against pointing this out, and gave him the comfort he was silently asking for.
You grabbed his hand, and laid a gentle kiss on his palm.
You received one of your own in response, before Jason let the medication and the comfort of your warmth lull him to sleep.
You could tell when he was having a particularly bad day because of a mission, but even more so when it was personal.
Today seemed to one of those personal days. You had noticed Tim's behaviour change slightly during the week. He had been working himself a lot harder, taking fewer breaks and sleeping less.
When you saw the date, you realised why. The anniversary of his dad's death always hit him particularly hard.
The anniversary of his mother's death was always a painful one, but it was at least softened by the bitter, melancholic consolation that at least it had been a quick one.
His father on the other hand, had survived, and their relationship had finally been one of a father and son, and was on its way to being a strong one before tragedy struck him again.
At a time when he should've been able to stop it. At a time when he should've done something before his lost his only remaining family.
You knew all of this because he had communicated these thoughts and feelings the first time he opened up to you about why his father's death was always the hardest to deal with.
You knew you'd have to reassure him with your words and convince him to not take big cases in order to fill the guilt-ridden need to compensate for what he considered one of his biggest failures.
At that moment, all he needed was to know he was not alone, a reminder that he was loved and he could freely express his pain without feeling weak.
You had to gently pry him away from his desk, where he’d sat and forced himself to go over cases and pore over every little detail for hours on end.
"You don't have to punish yourself, you know." You told him as you led him to the bed. He didn't respond. Mostly because you knew he didn't agree with you.
He didn't have to. You weren't going to allow himself to sink into the guilt and self-loathing he had gone through before he met you. He didn't have to feel alone anymore.
Tim would never be able to put into words how much he appreciated the time you always took to know what was wrong with him and knowing how to comfort him without him saying anything.
Despite the darkness of his thoughts, you were always there to shine a light and lead him out of them before he lost himself in guilt.
He allowed himself to feel, to be sad, to be angry and to mourn. The freedom he only felt whenever he was with you, especially during these times.
He felt the prick of tears in his eyes, but instead of stopping them, he let them flow freely, allowing himself the cathartic release he usually denied himself.
You held him as he cried, and pressed your lips to his forehead.
He held you closer to him, the feeling of safety enveloping him and somewhat softening the pain in his heart.
The loud crash was what woke you up.
Being part of a family of vigilantes meant you'd mastered the art of being a light sleeper. In fact you all collectively had a complicated relationship with rest and sleep.
Especially when it came to nightmares.
The horrors you had all witnessed as part of your crusade against crime sometimes kept you awake at night, other times it followed you to your dreams.
Therefore you could only imagine what horrors Damian had to have seen, given the life he had to live while he was with the League of Assassins.
He had confessed to you one night that once he'd learned the truth of what he had been taught, it made him look at himself differently. Sometimes he would be the monster in his dreams.
As you made your way into his room, you knew it was one of those nights again. Nights where his previous deeds haunted him somewhere he could never escape them: his mind.
You cautiously opened the door, making your movements quiet but loud enough that he would know it was you. He was already startled, you didn’t need to make it worse.
You walked around the mess on the floor, and found him shaking, holding himself on the floor beside his bed and the sight broke your heart.
It was moments like these when you were reminded of just how young he was. Tears made their way down his face in rebellion despite how hard the expression on his face was working to keep them at bay.
"Damian? Dami?" You had to approach him carefully, it was moments like these when he didn't trust himself.
You were about to sit next to him when he shuffled away from you. "Stay away. Monster. Hurt you." His words were broken into the sobs he could no longer contain.
You slowly moved closer to him, despite his weak protests and wrapped an arm around him. It didn't take long before the need for comfort outweighed the revulsion he felt and he allowed himself to be encompassed in your warmth and affection. You held him tightly as he sobbed.
"You're not a monster Dami. Not at all, okay?" You rocked him slightly in a repetitive motion, until you could feel his body gradually loosen up, meaning he was starting to calm down from the heavy crying.
You helped him back on his bed, never leaving his side. It was when he insisted he would be fine that you were sure you could leave.
You gave him a long hug, followed by a kiss to the top of his head.
Something that always made him feel better no matter how bad his nightmares would get.
It always reassured him that no matter what, you would always be there for him. You whispered a good night to him before quietly closing the door and going back to sleep.
Confusion was the first thing you felt when you opened the door.
Duke's room was a mess. Which was saying something considering he wasn't exactly a messy individual.
When you did eventually find him, you saw that he was so lost in what he was looking for that he hadn't even noticed you were there.
When he did finally spot you, you waved happily from where you were standing. He ran a hand down his face.
"I did it again, didn't I?" His whole body was slouched over, and he looked tired.
"Yes, but it's all right. I can see that you're a little.. occupied. What are you looking for anyway?" You walked towards him and gave him a hug, which he returned enthusiastically.
"I was working on some cases, and I put a file away for future reference and now I have no idea where it is. All these powers and I can't find a simple manila folder. If that ain't embarrassing then I don't know what is." He threw himself on the nearest chair and sighed heavily.
"Duke, honey, you gave that to me three days ago. You asked me to look over it for you and check for any potential patterns in the crimes and locations. That's why I'm here today." You couldn't help but laugh a little as you took the file out of your messenger bag.
Duke sighed again and muttered incoherently about stupidity under his breath.
You could tell he hadn't slept properly in a while, the bags under his eyes and his uncharacteristically unkempt hair was a major indicator of this fact, as well the state his room had fallen into.
Telling him you could go through the information you found later, you helped him clean up his room so it looked presentable.
It was relatively easy, the majority of the mess being a lot of paperwork and coffee mugs which you were sure Alfred would not be pleased about.
Once you were done, you convinced him to take a break. He clearly needed rest, or he wouldn't be able to do his job properly when he was needed in the field. He agreed on the condition that he wanted to fix his hair first. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you let him.
Duke was always a little too hard on himself, you put it down to the need to prove his worth and his place in the vigilante world.
He'd admitted to you that he'd initially felt quite out of place, feeling like there were already enough "bat-people", as he put it.
You'd convinced him that if that had been the case, he wouldn't have been part of the team at all, that Batman would not have recruited him if he felt he didn't need his help.
He couldn't argue with your logic. You sat him down and offered him a massage once you noticed how tense he was. You worked your way through his shoulders and his neck, loosening the tension that was stored there.
You could feel his body relax under your ministrations, and once you were done you were going to get the file for you to look through when he insisted on the two of you just relaxing for a little while.
Not one to say no to just spending time with him, you agreed and sat back down as he lay his head on your lap. 
You surprised him with a kiss to his temple.
He looked up at you with a warm smile, a silent thank you, as the both of you enjoyed the brief moment of peace before you had to go back to reality.
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studydiariesofcici · 26 days ago
Day 34 of my Higher Project Qualification~
18. 07. 22 // Yes I know its been a very long time since I last updated :(
Day 13: Do you have a comfort movie? If so, what is it?
I have quite a few comfort movies! My top four (in no order) are:
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
I could go on for hours…
I got back from my holiday about an hour ago, so after getting lunch and making a small but helpful to-do list that will set me up for the rest of the month, I’m back to work (updating this was top of my priority list!). I went to Italy for my holiday, and it was honestly a lot busier than I had anticipated. I was able to finish The Forgotten Cure; read a new book, Surrounded by Idiots (one of the best books I’ve ever read); practice some of the topics I’ve learnt on MathsGenie and do five of the tests on the complete GCSE mathematics course. Despite this, I’ve got a lot to catch up on!
The links I had for the books I had planned to read didn’t work in Italy for some reason, so I wasn’t able to read them. I also need to note down everything I read about in The Forgotten Cure before I forget about it all, the book has a lot of interesting facts regarding the history of phage therapy (should i start referring to it as just ‘pherapy’?), but there’s not much relevant information regarding the future of medicinal phages — though it does mention that *one* species of bacteriophage was approved by the FDA, and around 1000 other species were ready to go into clinical trials, had it not been for financial problems.
I’m not going to do any of that today though. Today is going to be dedicated to planning my summer, as it is officially starting today!
My to-do list for today:
Update my Tumblr!
Redo my timetable — I need to try and half the amount of books I will be reading and increase the amount of time I spend listening to podcasts on the subject and on Understanding Antibiotic Resistance on OpenLearn, as well as some other things — and transfer it onto a digital calendar, then set up a daily shortcut to said calendar and then to WaterDo, the app I use for my to-do list.
Make my summer playlist/expand my current playlist to include the songs I fell in love with whilst on holiday. I’ve never made a summer playlist before, so I might just give it the theme of motivation and call it my summer playlist, as I’ll definitely need a lot of motivation to get through this summer :’)
Create a workout routine/plan to see if it works. I’ve never used a plan before, just done whatever I feel like on the given day, so I’ve neglected some parts of my body and overexerted others. My goal is to make a plan with four/five days of activity and three/two days of rest, but one where I can pick what days I do what on.
I’m thinking of switching up my personality a bit as I don’t really like the people I hung out with last school year. So, I’m going to do a bit of self-discovery, research, and reading to find out my strengths and work on my weaknesses in order to reinvent myself a little bit for the next school year.
Try and make a cappuccino as well as they make one in Italy. Coffee is really starting to grow on me.
I’m also starting the 100 days of productivity challenge, with question prompts from this post every day!
Day 1/100: What’s your philosophy in life?
That you can validate yourself so much better than other people can. I don’t think that relying on anyone else to make you feel good or help you in any way is healthy. Only you can decide what you do, how you talk to yourself, what your mood is like, so why should other people’s thought matter at all?
🎧 — I’m gonna dump a bunch of songs since I’ve missed so many days and have began to like so many new ones. All are by Red Hot Chilli Peppers.
Stadium Arcadium
She’s Only 18
Hump de Bump
Death of a Martian
Make You Feel Better
Tell Me Baby
The Zephyr Song
On Mercury
21st Century
Around the World
Wet Sand
Desecration Smile
Storm in a Teacup
This Velvet Glove
Right on Time
Minor Thing
This is the Place
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space-emperor · a year ago
Given the amount of worldbuilding you've put into Space Emperor, I assume you had at least part of this story visualized before you started. I'm wanting to pursue writing and the way you do it is really inspiring, so I wanted to ask how you figured out where to start in your story. I have all these characters and this huge world I want to explore, and I have a rough plot imagined for it all, but I have no idea where to begin and it's really frustrating
I had absolutely nothing visualized.
Space emperor began only because I was waiting for my parents’ guest to get out of the bathroom so that I could meet a friend at iHop. He was taking forever so I opened tumblr to make a shitpost about a funny microfiction dynamic I imagined—a Monty Python style exchange between your stereotypical evil monarch preparing to gloat, only to suddenly realize he’s never been openly disrespected by anyone before and that it’s... kind of thrilling?
I only returned to it because I still thought it was funny after the pancakes. I was simply enjoying writing comical descriptions of ludicrous futuristic opulence and clueless evil, but it wasn’t until I had the emperor getting all dressed up for a ~breakfast date~ that I thought, oh, obviously “the hero” was an assassin came there to kill him. I’d already mentioned a silk gown from a planet that had been destroyed and its people driven to extinction, so that meant the hero had to be Lutoyan and that silk must be important to that planet’s culture and economy, and he survived that genocide somehow, and that there must be reasons for the emperor’s naivety...
I did not sit down and plan anything about space emperor at any point before I started writing—I just started hammering directionlessly at the keyboard until I looked around and realized I had accidentally created something with potential. I was constrained by things I had already written because I had shared them publicly, so I had to work with what was there, and that. Worked really well, somehow?
Obviously I’m nowhere near done. Obviously I’ve done a lot of worldbuilding since then. But I swear on my life that the best way to write a story is to just star casually writing whatever stupid crap springs into your head, and then, if you enjoyed yourself, work from there. I know it feels like spending hours worldbuilding before putting pen to paper ought to make your story richer and more satisfying, but narratives sort of... write themselves, sometimes. Occasionally the process of converting brain story to paper story creates some unavoidable alchemical changes that puts all your hard scheming and brooding to waste.
Space emperor begins in media res because it’s a first draft. I wanted to have fun, so I did, and I can always go back and add a “proper” beginning later if I feel it is necessary. Just... let things happen and see where they lead you.
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kimmimaru · a month ago
Currently rewatching some Turk scenes from the Remake (Remake has issues but at least I can see body language/facial expressions etc, I like to remind myself of certain things sometimes for fics) and something just occurred to me. 
I’ve always had my suspicions that Rufus still intended to kill his father, Sephiroth just got there first. And if he did have a plan then he would involve the Turks, he saved their lives in BC for a reason. He knows they’re useful and has seen them in action, they did thwart his previous plans after all. There’s no way he just gave up on his plans to kill his father and take over the company himself.  Here’s my theory (likely completely wrong but I like it lol): So, Rufus is sent away to Junon because he’s been a very naughty boy (sorry, had to be done. Always try to quote Monty Python when you can). He has just used his influence to convince his father not to have the Turks executed for treachery. So now the Turks owe him their lives. 
Avalanche, meanwhile, have split off into different factions but still exist. Somehow one portion of the organisation have access to heavy Military grade weaponry...how? Also the Mayor is somehow in on all this, a man who spends his entire life trapped inside Shinra HQ. A man who Rufus would have access to easily without rousing any suspicion because who would care if the VP is talking to the Mayor? He’s just an old man. Through the Mayor Rufus still has Avalanche connections, he’s still very rich and likely has his own accounts that his father has no idea about. I’m convinced he’s still funding part of Avalanche, using the Mayor as a proxy. So, he intended to use Avalanche to create some chaos so he can go in and get rid of his father under the guise of it being terrorists.  That’s my thoughts anyway. He just didn’t account for Cloud and co or Sephiroth...but then I doubt anyone except Hojo did to be fair. Either way, it worked in his favor. Not sure if this makes sense, I am very tired. Also it is very hot.
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A Demon Prince, A Cherub And Monty Python’s Big Fan (2022)
Credit for Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel & Zoophobia  goes to Vivienne “Vivziepop” Medrano
Credit for Arackniss Audio series goes to Axelgear
Damian Beelzly is from Zoophobia, also this is my first fan art of him I think... only I gave him a slightly different outfit in this drawing, as well as gave him a ponytail.
this look of course isn't canon, so don’t expect that outfit and ponytail will be his future look, it is a fanon look only.
and yeah I know he lives in a different universe from Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, and I don’t blame him for disliking religious cults.
I mean even if some people who are religious aren’t all bad, but there are some that do take things a bit too far, I call them Toxic-Religious....
of course some Toxic-Satanists are added to the list, not just like Toxic-Evangelicals and a few others, I mean the one who made me cry before and wouldn’t freaking listen to reason and kept misusing “may god have mercy on you” or “may the lord have mercy on you.” (I know it was one of the two.) and even if I did FREAKING pointed out how bad it was making me feel, they kept doing it and I to freaking block that insensitive jerk, I mean if someone tells you that your words are hurting them to the point of breaking into tears and is emotionally hurting them.
you don’t keep misusing those words, I mean serious...
I can’t be the only one who sees the problem with that person...
I can be friends with those who are either religious or atheist,
plus I think that no matter if others are religious or atheist or other,
they wouldn’t make me so terrible as that one person did, I forgot the name they went by, but I know that if I ever have a run-in with them here, like I did at the place that the incident happen, I will block them to.
I think that I was still figuring out what type of Nonbinary I was at the time,
and well being more of a between Binary & Nonbinary,
and I’m pretty sure I mention believing in a Goddess, too.
which I just call “Earthly Mother” now, and I do believe in the Heavenly Father as well....but I think if I remember right, that person who kept misusing those words at me, said those words because I was open by my new found belief.
and even if I did try to get through to them, and try to make them understand how much they were hurting me, they kept doing it and making it worse.
it’s good to have some form of beliefs, but you can’t just block out well the whole hurting someone’s feelings really badly, like they don’t matter as much as your faith.
a person can hold on to faith, but there can be a toxic side that we all should be careful of.....and that jerk of a butt-head was clearly not at all.
wouldn’t surprise me if they don that kind of thing to others.
 anyway  Cherub OC is Transgender and a Nonbinary-Man, he is also Pansexual.
I don't know what name I should give them, or what dead-name they would of had before.
I will need to think about it, but I do know that before they became who they truly felt on the inside,
they were unhappy and had to go with being called "She/Her" even though it upset them and yet they couldn't understand why.
it wasn't until they met Lizzie Eveningstar, that they found out that they were a
Nonbinary-Man on the inside.
they go by both They/Them & He/Him, so that is their pronouns.
when I draw them again, I might have a name for them by then.
this would be my second drawing with Lizzie Eveningstar,
once again the reason why I picked Lizzie, is because I wanted something that rhymed with Charlie and Vaggie.
I at first thought of drawing Montgomery writing a Autograph for Lizzie,
but then decide to go with her just thinking about him and admiring how awesome he is.
I just thought I would add the scars on Montgomery Python,
even the whole looking like he lost a eye, making him a one eye snake demon.
to point out, Lizzie is NOT in love with Monty, she just admires him and loves how he has a good heart and honor.
 and well I think the idea I want for Lizzie, is that she died a Virgin.
the drawing before this one, shows a little info in her thought bubble.
like how it was Blitz that killed her by mistake, thinking she was target.
she was wearing a bikini when she died and she was at Verosika’s Concert at the Beach, but was the only human not being under Verosika or her posse’s charm.
I went with the idea that her blood type keeps her safe, but it doesn’t mean she can’t still fall into a much stronger charm, but I guess if she has a strong enough will, she might be able to break free from the charm, maybe...?
I decided to have her blood type be O RH D Negative, as well as the idea that when after she was born, her Dad almost killed her but her Mom saved her, but Lizzie ends up in a Orphan after her Mom was found dead, which was caused by her Dad (who was in Hell at the time because Lizzie’s Mom killed him on the day Lizzie was born) hired a unknown hit-man to kill his wife.
this of course was before I.M.P, I don’t think they would of been formed yet, so the one who killed Lizzie’s Mom couldn’t of been Blitz, Millie, Moxxie or Loona.
 the surname that Lizzie had before she died at Verosika’s Concert,
 will be left unknown, but her adoptive surname she chooses is Eveningstar.
once again like I said before, the whole “Eveningstar” is suppose to be ironic.
my Mom never got Morning sickness with me, and only got evening sickness.
so I let that be the Crossover OC’s new surname.
anyway I’m going to write the theory that has to with Toriel of Undertale.
I wanted to post that first after the first drawing I did of Lizzie Eveningstar,
but I had to sign out for a little bit, and then I had to do another drawing of Lizzie and even drew Montgomery Python, and even Damian from Zoophobia, and I even made another OC in the form of a Cherub.
I wonder who would win in a fight though,
Montgomery from the Arackniss Audio series
or Montgomery Gator from Five Nights At Freddy’s Security Breach...?              
it might be a tie, knowing how strong those two are...
also once again, like it says in the drawing before this one, that has both Lizzie and a Robo-Fizzarolli in it...
Lizzie died when she was in her Third Year of College, and she was 21 years old when Blitz killed her by mistake....of course him killing her would be just fanon only, because Lizzie only exist in the fanon timeline.
her height didn’t change when she ended up falling into hell,
 she is also suppose to be shorter than Arackniss, she could possibly be taller than Niffty, I don’t know how tall she is but I can only guess...
I’m listening to that Valentino song right now, it is really good.
you could of sworn that it really is about Valentino from Hazbin Hotel,
I know there is fan animation that has Angel and Vox singing that song.
anyway I’m going to get to work on writing that theory about Toriel now.           
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