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wheels-of-despair · 1 year

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The Nerd King Cops a Feel Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie learns something about bras. (He hates them.) Contains: Assassination attempt, Girl Boob, an Eddie Munson First. Word Count: 800ish

Author's Note: This one goes out to all the ladies who look down and sigh every time they encounter one of the many 'Eddie Loves Your Tiny Tits' fics. 😂

Jeez, you accidentally say "Nerd King" instead of "Dungeon Master" one time and suddenly you're running for your life, jumping over piles of dirty laundry and trying not to crash into anything breakable.

Eddie chased you into his bedroom and tackled you to the bed, cackling like a madman. Flailing this way and that, you squealed and pretended like you weren't enjoying the absolute hell out of this.

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry!" He grins at your surrender and collapses on top of you, ignoring your exaggerated groan at having to support his full weight. After catching your breath, you reach up to brush the hair out of his eyes, his chin resting between your breasts.

After a few minutes of staring wordlessly at each other like a couple of lovestruck morons, he rolls to the side and you let out a sharp yelp.

"What'd I do?" he asks in a panic.

"Not you, this fucking bra."

He watches with a puzzled look as you sit up and reach under your t-shirt to take off the offending garment. As you suspected, the underwire had worked its way out during your tussle and stabbed the absolute shit out of you. You angrily fling it to the other side of the room and lay back down, turning your head toward Eddie and being met with a most curious sight.

His eyes are wide. Pupils blown. Fixated on your chest. It suddenly dawns on you that he's never seen you without a bra before. Normally this would embarrass you, but the rage from the garment's betrayal is still pumping through your veins.

"See something you like, Munson?"

He nods cautiously.

"Well, go on then."

His eyes flick up to yours, growing even bigger, which you didn't think was possible.

"I just survived an attempted murder. I need to be comforted."

His fingers twitch, making you smirk. But judging by the look on his face, his brain has turned to mush, so you gently take his hand and move it yourself, placing it just below the place his eyes are locked onto. He's still frozen.

"You still breathing over there, Munson?" you tease. He nods slowly, finally daring to move. Light as a feather, his hand glides upward and splays out, now holding a considerable handful of Girl Boob. Why is he acting like this is his first time? Is this his first time? You watch him silently, a gentle smile on your face as you both soak in the sensation.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but snaps it closed again when no sound makes its way out.

You try your hardest not to laugh. This loud, filthy-mouthed little horn-dog has been rendered speechless, possibly for the first time in his life. Should you get an award for this?

"Something on your mind?"

One side of his mouth twitches into a smirk.

"Can… no."

"Looking for some under-the-shirt action already?"

"No! That's not-- I don't-- You-- I--"

You mercifully cut him off before he can stutter his way through the alphabet. "'Cause you can. If you want. But you don't have to."

Looking upward for reassurance and receiving a nod of encouragement, he carefully drifts his hand down to the hem of your faded band shirt. Taking his time, his fingertips glide back up the skin of your stomach, stopping at the imprints the band of your torturous device had left. He traces the marks and furrows his brow.

"Bra band. Its mission to slowly suffocate me was taking too long, so it resorted to stabbing."

"Does it hurt?"

"It's not exactly pleasant."

"Why do you wear it?" he asks softly, fingers still lingering on the marks in your skin.

Surprised at his question, you bark out a laugh. He stares at you with his innocent doe eyes and moves his hand north, splaying out his fingers again and holding you gently.

"Are you kidding me? Are you seeing these things? Are you feeling these things?" Your hand comes to rest on his, still under your shirt, and give it a jiggle. He shrugs a shoulder and shifts his eyes downward again. Boys are so dumb.

"Girls with not a lot going on up here," you gesture, "can get away with that. But when they look like this and they're not... contained, it's kind of noticeable."

He looks up at you thoughtfully, then that spark of mischief returns to his eyes. Eddie clears his throat.

"Hear ye, hear ye," he begins in a deep voice, "The Nerd King hath issued a royal decree… that the princess must never wear a bra in his presence again. Refusal to comply will result in a punishment most severe."

"Oh my God," you laugh, rolling your eyes. The Nerd King responds with a grin, removing his hand from beneath your shirt and pulling you to him, then burying his face between his new favorite subjects.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #and that's probably the closest i'll ever get to smut #enjoooy

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mister-a-z-fell · 7 months

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After some questions about my ‘true’ form and whether or not I have a thousand eyes and a veritable farmyard of creatures emerging from my collar, I have decided to show you this record of an encounter between myself and a certain writer at the latter end of the Elizabethan period. I remember the event slightly differently, but I suppose one has to make room for artistic licence.

I’m assured that if you click ‘keep reading’, the full transcript will appear.

To assist you, I’ve added a glossary at the end.

And no, Crowley, this still doesn’t count as having wheels.

“This is an true accounting of mine own eyes, set down by mine hand this tenth night of September, in the yeare of Our Lord sixteen hundred and one. They will say I am gone mad, for such visions belong to those who dwell in Beth’lem Monastery, but I swear on all that is precious to me, this se’nnight past I saw an Angel.

I was but newly set out from the towne, and some light yet remained to guide my path, when I looked to the east and saw of a sudden a second dawn. T’was no earthly fire; Aye, I warrant you, I am not bestraught! My father spoke, in Harry’s day, of the great conflagration of Edinburgh. He told me that Hell had claimed the sky, for all above was a fury dress’d in crimson and wretched with soot. But here was nothing of red.

I have seen it since in dreams and will, I ken enow, see it as I draw my final breath. Hasten the day.

It was akin to a man. I gleaned as much in those moments when I looked upon it, ere it saw me and my wits fled me. But also unlike a man, for where a man has but one pair of hands were there some severall, and where a man has flesh and bone was there flame. Such pale fire have I never seen but I should think it alchymy, and mine eyes were indeed ensorceled, for I saw colours without name, and things too marvellous and awful to relate. I will. I must. This labour’d span is raised to worthy work, knowing the glory that awaits. But oh, I am affraid. I pray my sins have not snatched the cup from my lips.

This fearful apparition stood upon the hill, and the white fire that was its crown was with the thin night clouds commingled. Its face — no. Of that no more, yet. I cannot. All about was compassed in armillary radiances which turned one within another, the forme entire and every hand with pearlie lustre enwheeled.

Below, the flames of Tuscalonian hue that formed a body for the Presence were so and so girded with armour: bright fragments, the whole twixt corslet and grand guard, matched with cushes; all of nacreous stuff and lapis-ensigil’d but for one place high ‘pon the rightmost thighpiece where the intricate device was marred and running gold in place of gore.

What can wound an Angel? I think on this and tremble as the very earth trembled where it stood, ague-shooke by a low’ring thunder.

I have held golden angels in my palm and have seen them in holy glass and in base iron gaulle, with doves’ wings upon their shoulders. Foh, we are God’s own fools. Its wings were the clouds pierced by stormlight, dark upon light upon dark, and where they moved was printed a world beyond my understanding, witnest through a furnace shimmer.

I saw a flock of stars draw close around it, and it seemed to dote upon them and cosset them as a hunter with his favourite hounds, and I would there have fainted all away an if I had not been fixed in terror. For they were not specks and embers laid distant upon the sky, a sailor’s comfort and guide, but each and each an inferno pluck’d from Heaven; baleful sentinels from which no secret could be hidden. Such fell lights would render trivial the earthly fires of Nebuchadnezzar.

Words are meat and drink to me, yet do I tell this so poorly I should be ‘shamed and nevermore lift a goose-pen. Still, ‘tis no matter for who shall read it? When all is said, I’ll put these lines away and think on them no more. In telling will I win myself a little peace.

Wheretofore had I been silent, so now instantly did I weep, and laugh, and cry out for God’s mercy, and it looked upon me. Od's-me, it turned its Phoebean eyes on me and I saw its face. Above the gleaming corselet had that most blessed igenieur placed a maske of fine, unblemish’d parchment, in th’ likeness of a gentle visage, before the sainted flame. Troth, a kindely lanthorne of such boundlesse compassion that I fell upon my knees and made to crawl into the fire, sooner to know its forgiuenesse. Then did it smile, as no painted visor could, and all my knotted thoughts were ravel’d out and I was at once a babe, a foole, unfolded and sanctuarized. Under this soft and clement regard I swounded, onely to wake in my lodgings, ‘tired, but not tyred, my travells lost beyond recover.”

Glossary:

Beth’lem Monastery — Bishopgate hospital that would later become the notorious ‘Bedlam’.

se’nnight — seven nights — a week

warrant — assure/promise

bestraught — mad

Harry — another name for Henry — in this case Henry VIII

ere — until

ensorceled — enchanted

commingled — mixed with

compassed — surrounded by

armillary — resembling concentric rings set at angles

pearlie lustre — a pearl-like glow

enwheeled — encircled (shush, Crowley)

Tuscalonian — pale straw-yellow

girded — armoured

twixt — between

corslet — armour covering the upper body

grand guard — armour protecting the heart and left shoulder

cushes — armour for the thighs

nacreous stuff — resembling mother-of-pearl

lapis-ensigil’d — decorated in blue

intricate device — complicated symbol

ague-shooke — shivering, as with a sickness

low’ring — threatening/ominous

golden angels — gold coins stamped with the likeness of Michael defeating Lucifer

holy glass — church windows

iron gaulle — ink

Foh — an exclamation of disgust

cosset — fuss over

an if — if

goose-pen — a quill

Wheretofore — while until now

instantly — at the same time

Od's-me — an exclamation: ‘God save me’

Phoebean — relating to Phoebus/the sun

blessed igenieur — The creator

visage — face

Troth — an exclamation: ‘indeed’

lanthorne — lantern

painted visor — an immobile mask

ravel’d out — unwound

unfolded — exposed

sanctuarized — protected/sheltered

clement — forgiving

swounded — fainted

‘tired, but not tyred — a pun: ‘tired (attired) meaning dressed, tyred meaning weary

recover — remember

Addendum:

I’ve been asked to provide a translation for the Latin community. My grasp of Elizabethan Spanish would, I fear, let me down, so this is couched in modern terms…

Este es un relato verdadero de lo que vi, escrito por mi mano esta décima noche de septiembre, en el año de Nuestro Señor mil seiscientos uno. Dirán que me he vuelto loco, pues tales visiones pertenecen a los que viven en el Monasterio de Beth'lem, pero juro por todo lo que me es precioso, que la semana pasada vi a un Ángel.

Hacía poco que había salido de la ciudad, y aún quedaba algo de luz para guiar mi camino, cuando miré hacia el este y de repente vi un segundo amanecer. No era fuego terrestre; ¡te juro que no estoy loco! Mi padre hablaba, en tiempos de Harry, del gran incendio de Edimburgo. Me dijo que el infierno había reclamado el cielo, pues todo lo alto era una furia vestida de carmesí y desdichada por el hollín. Pero aquí no había rojo.

Desde entonces lo he visto en sueños y estoy seguro de que lo veré cuando exhale mi último aliento. Ojalá sea pronto.

Era como un hombre. Me di cuenta de ello en el breve momento en que lo miré, hasta que me vio y perdí la razón. Pero también era distinto de un hombre, porque donde un hombre tiene un solo par de manos había varias, y donde un hombre tiene carne y hueso había llamas. Nunca he visto fuego pálido como éste, a menos que fuera hecho por alquimia, y mis ojos estaban realmente encantados, porque vi colores sin nombre, y cosas demasiado maravillosas y horribles para relatarlas. Lo haré. Debo hacerlo. Esta vida dura merece la pena, sabiendo la gloria que aguarda después de la muerte. Pero tengo miedo. Rezo para que mis pecados no me hayan arrebatado la copa de los labios.

Esta temible aparición se alzaba sobre la colina, y el fuego blanco que la coronaba se enredaba con las delgadas nubes nocturnas. Su rostro... no. Aún no puedo hablar de ello. Todo estaba rodeado de ruedas de luz que giraban unas dentro de otras, y toda su forma y cada una de sus manos estaban rodeadas de un resplandor nacarado.

Debajo, las llamas de color amarillo pálido que formaban el cuerpo de la Presencia estaban cubiertas por piezas de armadura: fragmentos brillantes que, todos juntos, formaban una coraza, y una armadura para las piernas; parecían de nácar cubiertas de símbolos azules brillantes, excepto en un lugar en lo alto del muslo derecho, donde los adornos estaban dañados y sangraban oro.

¿Qué puede herir a un ángel? Pienso en esto y tiemblo como tiembla la tierra donde estaba, sacudida por truenos ominosos.

He tenido ángeles de oro (monedas) en la palma de mi mano y los he visto en vidrio sagrado y en tinta simple, con alas de paloma sobre sus hombros. Buaj, somos los propios tontos de Dios. Sus alas eran las nubes atravesadas por la luz de la tormenta, oscuridad sobre luz sobre oscuridad, y donde se movían vi un mundo más allá de mi entendimiento, presenciado a través de un resplandor como de horno.

Vi una bandada de estrellas acercarse a su alrededor, y parecía adorarlas y mimarlas como un cazador a sus sabuesos favoritos, y me habría desmayado si no me hubiera quedado helado de terror. Porque no eran motas y ascuas lejanas en el cielo, consuelo y guía de un marinero, sino cada una un infierno arrancado del Cielo; torvos centinelas a los que no se podía ocultar ningún secreto. Luces tan terribles harían que los fuegos terrenales de Nabucodonosor parecieran triviales.

Las palabras son carne y bebida para mí, pero estoy contando esto tan mal que debería avergonzarme y no volver a levantar una pluma. Aun así, no importa porque ¿quién lo leerá? Cuando termine, guardaré este escrito y no pensaré en él. Contando esto me ganaré un poco de paz.

Había estado en silencio, pero ahora lloré, y reí, y supliqué la misericordia de Dios, y el ángel me miró. mSobre la coraza reluciente El Creador había colocado una máscara de pergamino fino y sin mancha que parecía un rostro amable, frente al fuego sagrado. De hecho, era una linterna bondadosa de una compasión tan ilimitada que caí de rodillas e intenté arrastrarme hasta el fuego, para poder sentir su perdón. Entonces sonrió (como nunca podría hacerlo una máscara), y todos mis confusos pensamientos se desenredaron y me sentí simultáneamente un bebé, un tonto, expuesto y protegido. Bajo esta atención suave e indulgente me desmayé, sólo para despertar en mi alojamiento, vestido, pero no cansado, incapaz de recordar cómo había llegado hasta allí.

#hashytag good omens #they aren’t wheels they’re parhelia #unofficial Appear Unto #Now with added Spanish

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teddyeyeseddie · 9 months

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To Hell I Go

If She Wants A Cowboy

✰ bull rider Steve x reader

masterlist

✰ cw: broken bones, an er visit, steve in a sling, an eddie debut, first kisses, straddling steve in a creek, smut, minors dni, oral (m rec), boot riding

✰ a/n: this series has been flopping but I am so in love with dandy and our boy that im gonna keep writing it bc they deserve to have their story told, thank you @lofaewrites for betaing :,)

now playing: If She Wants a Cowboy

Steve is rushed right back when he gets to the ER, grumbling an “I’m fine” when he sees the amount of sick kids in the waiting room. Despite his efforts to wait in the lobby, it only takes 30 minutes and he is sitting in a room awaiting his results.

Steve tears up at the news, knowing what this meant for his career. It came to an abrupt stop, throwing Steve forward into a mess of emotions. They did x rays to find that his shoulder was, in fact, broken. His coach eventually leaves, only able to offer so much reassurance and solace.

He sits cooped up in the ER for what felt like hours, left alone to his devices, those emotions from earlier bubbling and breaching the surface now that he was alone. His dad was right, just like he always is. The job chewed him up and spit him out. Usually, a broken shoulder meant the gig was up, not many riders can recover from a serious injury like that.

He wills away his spiraling, putting his head back in order to rest. When he’s about to fall asleep, a soft knock resonates through the room.

“Hey cowboy,” the voice is like music in Steve’s ears, the sound flowing into the air and causing goosebumps to rise on his skin.

“Dandy, they let you in here at this hour?” he questions, a small smirk on his face as he adjusts himself in bed, wincing when he disturbs his shoulder.

“Jus’ had to tell them I was your wife,” she replies sheepishly, wincing slightly.

“I did give ya a ring, didn’t I darlin’?” he cracks a wide smile.

You settle yourself into a chair next to the bed, digging in your purse to find the small paper ring Steve had made you days prior. You slip it on your finger once you find it, flashing it at Steve causing him to let out a full-bellied laugh.

“You kept it?”

You offer a small nod, reaching your hand out to hold Steve’s free hand. The other slung up as the two of you waited to hear what the next steps are in Steve’s recovery.

“What’s the verdict here?” you question softly, rubbing your thumb over Steve's calloused hand.

“Shoulder’s broken. S’ a clean break but fuck if I know what that means,” he groans, throwing his head back as tears form in his eyes.

“Shit Dandy- I’m sorry, don’t mean to turn into a mess while you’re here. It’s just this could be the end of the line for me,” he pulls his hand away from yours in order to wipe his eyes.

He settles his hand back in yours, squeezing it as he stares forward at the wall in front of him.

He didn’t ask you to come and the fact you did makes Steve’s heart flutter inside his chest. You came on your own, and that is more than Steve could ever wish for.

“I’ll be right here with you, Steve,” you break the silence and lean up to kiss his cheek, the first time you had displayed any sort of affection aside from holding hands.

He leans into your touch, relaxing and letting himself be loved on.

The doctors come in moments later, setting his arm and immobilizing it with a fancy looking sling.

Six weeks.

Six weeks of being rendered useless, Steve groans into the night air once he’s been released at the odd hour of 5 in the morning. Hand in yours as you guide him to your car, helping him get settled into the passenger seat.

“I guess in the grand scheme of things, I’m lucky,” he says once you get situated. His head is leaned back, exposing the column of his neck as he turns to look at you.

“How so?”

“A whole summer of being doted on by you?

“Who said I was gonna dote on you?”

“Mmm I just gotta hunch, Dandelion,”

Steve isn’t wrong, you are there every day you're off work, going on walks with him or helping his mother cook dinner.

It’s been about 2 weeks of helping take care of Steve when you pull into his driveway at the early hour of 8am. You softly knock on the door, smiling when you hear a quiet, “come in” from the other side of the door.

You and his mother, Donna you had come to learn, had become well acquainted, spending the evenings cooking dinner together giving you time to converse regularly. You got all the stories of Steve when he was younger, your favorite being the time he peed off the side of the pool when he was potty training.

“Is he awake?” you question, setting the groceries Donna had requested you bring the night prior.

“He’s not, had a rough night last night. He said not to let him sleep in if you’re here though,” she says with a sly smirk on her face, like she knows something you don’t know.

You ignore her look, not wanting to read much into it, trudging upstairs to wake Steve up.

You smile when you see him, he’s propped up by some pillows, something his mom helps him do every night so he is more comfortable.

You sit on the edge of his bed, extending your arm to caress his cheek. He stirs a little bit, waking with a small jolt when you begin to run your thumb across the expanse of his jaw.

“Good morning, Dandelion,” he smiles, his voice thick with sleep, the groggy melody making your cheeks flush.

“Good morning, Steve,”

He sits up at the waist, using his free arm to push him up on the bed. He’s right beside you, free hand coming to rest on your thigh. His lips press a soft kiss to your temple.

“Didn’t think you’d be here this early, sorry I wasn’t up,” he mumbles, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“S’ okay honey, liked getting to wake you up,”

You get up, turning back towards the bed to help him stand. His pajamas are slung low on his hips, soft hair traveling up his belly and to his navel. He looks peaceful like this, freshly woken up, sleep in his eyes and bed head- it makes your heart warm.

He stretches once he’s standing, averting your eyes as his already impossibly low pants stoop even lower.

“You gonna shower?” you question, picking at the comforter on Steve’s bed.

He shakes his head, turning towards his closet and pulling out a pair of wranglers and a t-shirt.

He turns away before dropping his pajama pants, your cheeks flushing at the sight of Steve in just his boxers.

He grabs the clothes he laid out on the bed, shimmying his pants up his legs, frowning as he gets to the button.

“C’mere,” You mumble, buttoning his wranglers, knuckles bumping into his soft belly.

He smiles down at you, brushing a hair out of our face.

“Gonna help me with the top now, dandy?”

You nod, grabbing his top and sliding it up his hurt side, carefully threading his arm through while it is still bent. He chuckles as he pokes his head through the top, easily pulling his other arm through.

You wait on his bed after you get his sling back on his arm, Steve having perfected his one-handed bathroom routine.

He peaks out of the bathroom once he is ready, padding across the room to grab his hat.

“Ya ready?”

You nod, following him downstairs.

When you reach the living room, you’re surprised to see Charlotte and Eddie sitting on the couch.

“Mudslinger! How ya been?” Eddie gets up, pulling Steve into a hug, Lottie shooting him daggers as he does so.

“Careful with the man, Eds. He’s fragile,” Charlotte scolds, pulling Eddie away when he starts to get too rough.

Eddie listens to the woman, settling in beside her with a protective hand on her thigh.

“Wanted to come visit ya, see if there was anything you needed before I head down to the barn to get some lessons started,”

The two of the men fall into easy conversation but you and Charlotte find yourselves stowed away in the kitchen, chatting about anything and everything.

“So- You and Steve, huh? He’s never brought a girl around,” she says as she stirs her tea.

“Yeah- He uh saved me from Billy Hargrove,” you take a sip from your mug, glancing into the living room to check on Steve.

“Oof- Eddie used to work on Billy’s ranch breaking horses. Never got paid enough for the work he did, here though? He’s taken care of, Donna makes sure he is anyways,”

You had learned that a lot of the ranch bonuses and raises used to come from Donna pestering Richard until he caved, that was until Steve came around and gave everyone their well deserved performance based raises.

“Steve’s running it right finally, taught his Daddy more things than he’s taught Steve probably, I can’t wait to see what happens when he finally takes over, maybe he will settle down now that he’s broke himself,” Charlotte rattles off, your stomach lurching at her words, remembering why you’re here.

Steve hurt himself. If he hadn’t been rendered useless in terms of bull riding he’d be off riding in other competitions and eventually nationals. He was kept at home by a broken shoulder, not by you.

You shake the thoughts away, Steve would have wanted you wherever he was, you had to convince yourself.

You and Charlotte continue conversing, finally steering the conversation away from you and Steve.

“Dandy-” You hear Steve shout from the living room, you set down our mug and straighten out your skirt before making your way to him.

“Whatcha need cowboy,” you question, smiling when you round the corner to see him standing, cowboy hat situated on his head.

“Come to the creek with me?” he questions, smiling softly as he holds out his hand.

You turn back towards Charlotte, who is now left alone now that Eddie has gone to the barn to start lessons for the day. She nods her head, shooing the two of you away and out into the summer sun.

Steve laces your fingers with his, boots crunching on gravel as he makes his way to the stables.

“Wish we could take sonny today,” Steve says, frowning slightly when you pass them. You distract him with a kiss to the cheek, bumping into his hat causing him to let out a chuckle.

“Tryna kiss me stupid here, honey?” he asks as he continues walking, dipping into some trees at the edge of the property.

“Just tryna kiss ya, cowboy,” he smiles back at you as he leads you through the trees, finally stopping and letting you settle in next to him once you reach the creek.

You release his hand, kicking off your shoes in order to step in the creek, turning to Steve who is still on the bank.

“Comin’ in?” you grin, looking up at him. He scratches at the scruff that is forming on his chin, contemplating kicking off his boots and joining you.

“I dunno, Dandy,”

“C’mon, don’t make me enjoy this all alone,”

With that, he toes off his boots as you step forward in the water in order to roll up his jeans for him. You hold your hand out, Steve taking it and stepping into the water with you. The two of you wade in the shallow creek, your back to Steve when you feel a splash of water hit the bend of your knees.

You whip around, scowling at Steve who has a wide grin on his face. You bend over, skimming your hand in the water in order to splash him back. Steve walks backwards, tripping over his feet, sending him tumbling, falling on his ass.

You rush to him, dropping to your knees in the shallow water next to him.

“Are you okay?” you question, looking him over as if you’ll see any physical damage.

He simply smiles at you, on your knees-so close to his lap. He wishes he could pull you onto him and kiss you breathless.

That’s when he realizes there’s nothing stopping him.

He hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him. He mumbles a soft, “C’mere,” as he motions with his head for you to get on.

You swing your leg over his lap, heartbeat high in your throat as you look down at him. It’s a little awkward, his sling taking up much of the room between the two of you, but it doesn’t matter.

Steve’s eyes travel to your lips, a smile forming on them as your hand raises to pet the hairs adorning the nape of Steve’s neck.

“I think you’re the one that’s trying to kiss me stupid,” you breathe.

“Just tryna kiss ya,”

With that, he leans in, capturing your lips in a firm kiss. It’s slow–calculated, each movement well thought out as he guides you. You eventually crack a smile while kissing him, teeth knocking together as Steve begins to smile too. You finally pull away when it’s time to catch your breath.

“Why’d you wait so long, cowboy?” you ask, hand still petting at his hair.

“Kinda thought you deserved more, Dandy,” he breaths out, thumb rubbing at your hip as his eyes flash back towards your lips.

“Well- why don’t you let me worry about that, mudslinger” you lean back down, kissing him sweetly before pulling away and getting off his lap. He looks up at you in a daze, lips pink and full as he cracks a smile.

You help him up and out of the creek, using your now half soaked cardigan to dry your legs off before slipping back into your shoes. Steve gets along fine with getting his boots back on, but you can't help but giggle when you turn to see his jeans still rolled up. You bend down to fix them, Steve mumbling a soft thank you.

You walk hand in hand back to the house, offering Eddie a small wave when you pass by the stables.

You’re both still sopping wet when you make it to the front porch, Steve groaning when he’s intercepted by Donna at the door.

“I know you are not about to come in here with those sopping wet jeans on,” She scolds the two of you.

Steve playfully rolls his eyes, nudging past her and making his way inside.

“I’ll clean it Mama,” she playfully smacks his good shoulder before retreating back to the kitchen to continue cooking lunch for the Saturday workers.

Steve opens the door to his room, closing the door after you.

“Skirt’s pretty soaked, do you want some shorts and a new shirt?” he questions, turning towards his closet to grab himself a change of clothes. You squeak out a small “yes” as you kick off your shoes. He hands you a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, turning back towards the closet.

In a surge of courage and confidence, your hands find the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head while Steve’s back is to you.

When Steve turns around, he feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His lungs are void of air as his eyes rake over your frame, drinking you in. He swears he sees stars when your fingers dip into the waistband of your skirt, dropping it to the floor with a wet thud.

You stalk towards him, fingers hooking in his belt loops as you guide him to the chair sitting in the corner of his room.

“Dandelion- sweetheart what are you doing?” Steve asks as you drop to your knees in front of him, eyeing him sweetly.

“Just let me take care of you, Cowboy,” you push him back by his hip, satisfied once you force him to sit in the chair.

Fingers come to unbutton his damp wranglers, cock already straining against the rough fabric. You pop the button, slowly unzipping his pants, tapping his thighs so he will lift his hips.

He’s looking at you with glassy eyes, pupils blown wide as he watches your hand sneak into his boxers and pull out his hard member.

“Fuck, darlin you don’t have to do this,” his hand reaches down to caress the your flushed cheek.

“Want to,” your hand strokes him, the drag causing Steve to throw his head back, loud groans leaving his lips as he indulges in the feeling of you taking care of him.

You suck the head of his cock, tongue swirling around the tip. Steve’s hand comes to thread through your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling just hard enough to get you off of him.

“You wanna feel good too?” Steve questions, free hand coming to stroke himself. You nod your head, pleading eyes meeting Steve’s.

“Ride me then,”

“S-steve your shoulder,” He laughs, the hand that was stroking his cock now caressing your face. His boot begins tapping on the floor beneath you.

Tap-Tap-Tap

You look up at him through hooded eyes, biting your lip as you lower yourself onto his boot. You let out a soft mewl when the rough leather catches on your clothed clit. You begin to rock back and forth, riding his boot as you take him back into your mouth.

You take him to the back of your throat, nose bumping into the soft pudge of his tummy, being tickled by the pubic hair that adorns the area.

He groans, the deep growl echoing off the walls causing you to pull back and shush him. Steve chuckles as he guides his cock back towards your lips, you greedily sucking him in.

Your hands come to rest on his hairy thighs, your own shaking from the impending orgasm, the coil in your tummy tightening as you use his boot to get off.

“Jesus, Honey. I’m gonna come if you keep takin’ me so deep like that,” he moans as you release his member with a soft pop, a giddy smile on your face as you look up at him.

“Kinda the point, Honey,” you begin to stroke him, hand slippery with your spit and his precum.

“Gonna come,” he grits out, your mouth enveloping him as his hips stutter and his cock twitches in your mouth, hot cum running down your throat.

You pull off him once he winces at the overstimulation. Your hips are still moving, your sopping cunt still dragging across the ridges of Steve’s boots.

“You close honey?” Steve asks, a little hint of pity lacing his tone. You whine when he begins to mock you.

Three more thrusts of your hips and you’re coming undone, panties now soaked with your release and seeping onto his cowboy boot. You slump forward when you’ve finished riding out your high, face resting on his thigh mere inches from his now softening cock. His hand pets your hair, letting you rest there for a while before breaking the silence.

“These pants are still wet darlin, need to change,” he taps your cheek, causing you to rise from the spot in his lap and pull yourself off of his boot. You wince when you disconnect from him, blushing when you see the wet spot you left on the leather. Steve however, props his foot up on the ottoman that you were just wedged between and admires the slick spot on his boot-proud of what you’d done to him.

“Might keep it there,” You whine at his words, embarrassed you’d just come undone so easily for him.

“Hey- don’t pout,” he says as he gets up, a soft grunt leaving his lips as he does so. Tall frame towering over yours, his hand coming to brush your unkempt hair out of your face.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, pushing down his pants and stepping out of them. He digs around for a pair of boxers before turning and offering you a pair.

“Figured you’d soaked your-uh,”

“Panties?”

“You just had me ride your boot, now you’re shy about my wet panties?” you question, a small smirk forming on your lips as you take the pair of boxers from him.

Now he turns bright red, cheeks flushing at the mere talk of your underwear.

“I’m a gentleman, Dandy,” you roll your eyes, mumbling a soft, “not in the sheets” as you walk by him.

“Come on mudslinger, let's get dressed. I’ll make us some lunch once we get downstairs,”

#Steve x reader #steve Harrington x reader #steve x you #steve Harrington x you #steve x reader smut #steve Harrington x reader smut #steve Harrington x reader fluff #steve x reader fluff #steve Harrington #steve Harrington fanfiction #steve stranger things #steve angst #steve fanfiction #steve harrington fanficton #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst

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thepolysworldau · 1 month

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For Tord: Hey Tord, you doing ok? The others left to do something so you're by yourself-

Yeah, I am fine. I got Tom's message after walking around the house like 5 times looking for someone. It is kind of weird, though, I am not used being home alone? Hell, last time they left me to my own devices was before...anyway--

But I should be good, I mean, we have the security system installed so if anyone even tried to get in, they would regret it. Just kind of bored at this point, I never really know what to do while in my own devices.

( you all get a lovely shirtless Tord render due to them winning the polls. Enjoy it ):< )

#eddsworld ask blog #eddsworld fanart #eddswolrd #eddsworld #eddsworld tord #ew tord #shipsworld #polysworld #lore

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chaifootsteps · 5 months

Note

sarcastic productions did a vid recently about this thing called Tone Armor and it explains something I've had issues with in HB but struggled to articulate

so Tone Armor is, to simplify it (but I do recommend the vid) what the audience understands the stakes of the show to be. I.e. in a Loony Tunes short no one expects a character to be seriously hurt falling off a cliff, getting shot in the face, getting a piano dropped on them, etc. It's kind of part of suspension of disbelief - some shows exploit tone armor by having an early twist that goes against the conventions of the genre. The twist in Madoka Magica ep3 works entirely off this - if you've seen a lot of magical girl shows like Sailor Moon and Cardcaptors you're used to their stakes and you don't expect anyone to really die. In ep3, someone really dies.

And that's a big problem I have with HB - it can't keep its stakes or tone consistent to save its life. In Harvest Moon, Stella hiring Striker to kill Stolas is played like a dark comedy joke. We're supposed to take it like a dramatic beat but also a kind of wacky demon thing. But then The Circus drastically shifts the tone and expects us to treat Stolas and Stella as a straight example of domestic violence - which they do by having her try to slap him, something which is much less violent than the hit she's already ordered on him episodes before. They've already had Stella escalate to the end point most abusers get to, played it as a joke, and they want to turn around and demand the audience instead take it seriously instead of treating it like just a thing demons do? It was already shaky ground in ep5 whether we should judge Stella for ordering a hit given that the premise of the show used to be about imps running an assasination business, and their targets used to be in Hell!

The show also can't make up its mind whether the audience should be worried about the characters being in real danger at any moment in time. Western Energy is the absolute nadir for this - one minute Stolas is dodging holy bullets like he knows he's in danger, the next he's calling Blitzo and speaking with no more urgency than he did when he hired him as a bodyguard in Loo Loo Land (and the episode seems to expect us to blame Blitzo for not dropping everything to help him? Why wasn't Stolas screaming in terror on the phone then???). Worse, when he gets cut off Stolas says out loud 'am I in danger right now?' like he wasn't just tied up on the back of a horse bound with blessed rope. What in gods name happened to his intelligence in this episode?

Then it's right back to wacky hijinks right as the tone was starting to shift with the Striker song from the imp trio and Stolas is still making jokes ('how does one get their own theme song?') until the episode then decides it's going to be serious and act like the audience should be worried Stolas could die. Besides the fact Viv was never going to kill her Creator's Pet, it is way too late to demand an audience buy into this plot line on a dramatic level. To make it worse half the fight scene is scored with a bubblegum pop song on the radio and it keeps cutting to the much lower stakes Blitzo trying to get Loona to take her shot, like it makes any sense at all to cross cut between the two! That episode is absolute garbage imo and I have no idea why it ended up the way it did outside of Viv probably insisting there needed to be a plot device that would render Stolas helpless (which begs the question how Striker hasn't managed to finish off half of Hell's nobles by now if he has blessed rope or at least Stolas, given he's also dumb enough not to bother using his eye powers or his demonic form earlier - the power levels in this show are also massively inconsistent)

And then to put the cherry on a very bad cake Blitzo asks 'he can get hurt?' like he didn't already know blessed weapons exist and he didn't already fight Striker for trying to kill Stolas with one of them (which he should have let him do to spare us all the badness of this never-ending plotline)

Extremely good point.

Tone armor is definitely a thing, and Viv's problem is that she wants it to be both ways. She wants this show to be Looney Tunes and Madoka, and she wants to alternate back and forth between the two whenever she pleases, and when her audience inevitably complains or is confused, to blame them.

And that's not how this works.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #helluva boss critical #actual blog post

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oogalaboogalabich · 2 months

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I love the idea that Gortash and Durge designed the gauntlets together.

I like to imagine they doodle new torture devices in their spare time and put them on each others fridges.

Edit: oshit yeah i should probably credit for the reff i used for the gauntlets. Krotek on Etsy has 3D models for cosplay and rendering. they came in very handy cause holy hells that level of detail is beyond my patience level to just eyeball.

#durgetash #gortash x durge #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #durge

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 month

Text

Origins (Be A Doll AU)

Vox x doll!reader

CW: Torture, Manipulation, Mind control, Hypnosis, Electrocution, Power imbalance (so, so much), objectification (a little), Vox being an asshole (he’s in hell for a reason), AU typical events.

Note: Vox is manipulative, possessive, jealous, impulsive, controlling, and harsh in this AU. He can be extremely violent towards reader, and is consistently abusing them either way. He is not a good person! If anyone is sensitive to or may have a negative reaction from these topics, I recommend clicking away now.

Summary: Vox finds a pretty little doll and wants them all to himself. Yeah, the warning above probably gives you a good idea of what happens. This is how doll!reader got into the entire mess that is the Be a Doll AU.

I woke up in a dimly lit room, my head pounding. I tried to move, but my limbs were bound tightly. Panic set in as I saw Vox, his TV screen head flickering with slight static marring his features, looming over me.

The room felt suffocating as I stood before Vox, his piercing gaze fixed on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "What's your name?" he demanded, his voice laced with authority.

I hesitated, my mind racing as I grappled with the implications of his question. Why was he asking? Why did he need to know? An overlord knowing my name would be a dangerous thing. What did he want with me?Before I could formulate a response, Vox's expression darkened, and he raised his hand, a small device clutched tightly in his grasp.

"I asked you a question," he growled, his tone brooking no disobedience. "What's your name?"

A sense of dread washed over me as I stared into Vox's eyes, his gaze bearing down on me like a leaden weight. "I-I can't," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just let me go."

Vox's lips curled into a cruel smile, and with a flick of his wrist, he activated the device in his hand. A jolt of electricity shot through my body, causing me to cry out in pain as searing agony coursed through every nerve ending. It felt like my very bones were on fire, the intensity of the shock rendering me temporarily paralyzed.

As the pain subsided, I slumped in my chair, gasping for breath as I struggled to regain my composure. Vox loomed over me, his eyes ablaze with a mixture of amusement and malice. "Now," he said, his voice cold and unforgiving. "What's your name?"

Trembling, I forced the words past my lips, a sense of defeat settling over me like a heavy blanket. "My name is..."

"My name is..." I began, but the words caught in my throat, choked off by a wave of fear and uncertainty. Vox's eyes bore into mine, his expression inscrutable as he waited for my response.

When I remained silent, Vox's patience wore thin, and he raised the device once more, electricity crackling ominously in the air. "I'll ask you one more time," he said, his voice icy with warning. "What's your name?"

The threat of another shock hung heavy in the air, and I knew that resistance was futile. With a heavy heart, I whispered my response, each syllable laden with resignation and defeat. "My name is..."

But before I could finish, the device sprang to life, sending a surge of electricity coursing through my body. The pain was blinding, overwhelming, and I cried out in agony as my muscles spasmed uncontrollably.

As the shock subsided, I slumped in my chair once more, panting heavily as I struggled to regain my senses. Vox stood over me, his expression devoid of mercy as he demanded compliance. He looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Again," he commanded, his voice like a whip cracking through the air. "What's your name?"

Trembling, I forced myself to speak, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "My name is..."

And once again, the device unleashed its fury, sending shockwaves of pain rippling through my body. Each shock was more intense than the last, and I felt as though I were teetering on the edge of oblivion. He was playing with me, as if it were a game. He’d ask but cut me off with a shock before I could respond.

But still, Vox persisted, his determination unyielding as he sought to break my spirit and bend me to his will. And with each repetition, I felt myself growing weaker, my resistance crumbling in the face of his relentless assault.

Then, I was silent- well, mostly. I was gasping for air, sweat already forming on my brow. As the shock faded into a dull ache, Vox's stood tall. Unbothered, unsympathetic, in fact, he now had a small smile on his face, something that hadn’t been there before. I was still reeling- the sensations of this torture seemed to swallow me whole. His eyes bore into mine, cold and calculating, as if searching for any trace of defiance that remained.

Without a word, he turned and strode from the room, leaving me alone in the darkness. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint hum of machinery and the sound of my own ragged breaths. Then, I received a small shock. Almost playful. Not nearly as unbearable as before.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each moment dragging by like an eternity. With no way to gauge the passage of time, I was left to dwell in my own thoughts, trapped in a prison of uncertainty and fear. A shock would be administered at random, and I had no way of knowing when that would be. I was anxious.

Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of fabric, sent shivers down my spine, and I found myself jumping at the slightest sound. The air felt thick and oppressive, pressing in on me from all sides as if threatening to suffocate me.

But it was the uncertainty that was the most unbearable, the gnawing fear of what would come next. Without knowing when Vox would return, I was left to stew in my own anxiety, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with each passing moment.

And as the minutes turned into hours, I felt myself sinking deeper into a pit of despair, my thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt and self-recrimination. Was this punishment for my defiance? Or was it merely a precursor to somethi-Bzzt!

Another shock. Stronger.

Unable to find solace in the darkness, I curled into a ball, wrapping my arms around myself in a feeble attempt to ward off the chill that seeped into my bones. But no amount of trembling could shake the sense of isolation that weighed heavily on my chest, a constant reminder of my vulnerability.

The next few hours were torture. As the shocks surged through my body, each one more intense than the last, I struggled to maintain consciousness. My muscles tensed and convulsed involuntarily, making it nearly impossible to form coherent thoughts.

I cried and yelled and scratched at my bindings, the pain threatening to overwhelm me. But Vox was relentless, each shock and the isolation that followed driving me closer to the brink of madness.

Hours passed in a blur of agony and darkness, punctuated only by the relentless jolts of electricity coursing through my body, given to me at random.

After what felt like an eternity of isolation, Vox returned, his footsteps echoing ominously in the dimly lit room. He approached with purpose, his movements deliberate as he reached out to me.

I flinched hard and tried to move away. I couldn’t. I was far too weak for that at this point. I struggled against his grasp, but his strength was overpowering, rendering me helpless as he bound me tightly, immobilizing me completely, even more than before. Panic surged within me, my heart racing as I realized the extent of my vulnerability.

A hypnotic spiral appeared on his screen, its swirling patterns drawing me in with an irresistible allure. I tried to look away, to resist its pull, but I found myself unable to tear my gaze from its mesmerizing depths.

Vox's voice echoed through the room, its tone low and hypnotic as he spoke of a world beyond imagination, a world where pain and suffering were but distant memories. He painted a picture of power and control, promising me a future of endless possibilities.

As I listened, his words began to take hold, sinking into the recesses of my mind like tendrils of smoke. I felt myself slipping into a trance-like state, my thoughts growing hazy and disjointed as the spiral continued to spin.

In that moment, Vox held all the power, his words weaving a web of influence that ensnared me completely. I was at his mercy, lost in a sea of hypnotic suggestion, unable to resist the pull of his persuasive rhetoric.

"Join me," he said.

I shook my head slightly, my knee jerk reaction to such a proposal from anyone so dangerous, but before I could protest, another shock coursed through me. My body convulsed, and I felt powerless against him. I couldn’t manage a scream anymore, only small noises.

Vox continued to speak, his words weaving into my consciousness like a spell. I felt myself slipping, my resolve crumbling with each passing moment.

He moved my head roughly, forcing me to meet his gaze. I couldn’t look away as the hypnotic spiral on his screen captured my attention, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

“What’s your name?” he asked once more, his voice low and commanding.

I whispered it, my raspy voice barely audible over the hum of the machinery.

Finally, Vox nods, as if he already knew my name all along. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” He asked, leaning in close, his screen flashing with black and red hypnotic patterns. “There’s so many benefits to joining me, you know. Especially for someone like you.”

“Aren’t you tired of living such a pathetic life?” Vox asked, his grip tightening on my face, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. I could feel myself succumbing to his influence, my willpower crumbling under the weight of his hypnotic gaze. I felt like I was in a sort of haze, my thoughts muddled and feelings muffled. I could only focus on him as he spoke again, softer. “I could make you everything you ever wished to be.”

He let go and pulled up a chair, sitting besides me, his arm around my shoulder. He spoke of power and control, of a world where I could finally be free from the pain and suffering that had plagued me for so long. And despite my best efforts, I found myself nodding along, repeating some parts, the words slipping past my lips like a prayer.

As the hypnotic spiral flickered on the screen, casting its enchanting glow throughout the room, Vox's voice resonated with an eerie calmness.

"Do you see it, doll?" Vox's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "The path to freedom, to power, to everything you desire."

I didn’t struggle against the restraints like before, the lingering effects of the electric shocks still coursing through my body, leaving me weak and vulnerable. Each jolt had served as a reminder of Vox’s power, instilling a sense of fear and obedience that lingered long after the pain had faded.

Vox continued to speak, his words like velvet tendrils wrapping around my consciousness, pulling me deeper into the trance-like state induced by the swirling patterns on the screen.

"You long for control, for autonomy," Vox's voice echoed in the recesses of my mind. "I can offer you that and so much more. All you need to do is submit to me completely."

The electric shocks pulsed through my body, an occasional reminder of Vox's power and control. With each jolt, my focus sharpened, my attention drawn inexorably towards the hypnotic spiral before me.

I felt myself slipping further into Vox's grasp, the boundaries between reality and illusion blurring until they were indistinguishable. In that moment, I was entirely at his mercy, my will subjugated to his every command.

With each passing second, Vox's influence grew stronger, his words becoming my reality as I surrendered to the irresistible pull of his persuasive rhetoric.

He grinned and fell silent for a moment, brushing his hand across my cheek gently. Almost comforting or kind. No shocks came this time. His words played on repeat in my mind, sinking in deeper and deeper. I didn’t realize I was still nodding slightly.

As I lay there, restrained and helpless, Vox's voice echoed through the room like a sinister melody, weaving its way into the very fabric of my being. Edging me on.

"Imagine a world where pain and suffering are but distant memories," Vox's words were hypnotic, reaching beyond my consciousness, lulling me into a state of vulnerability. "A world where you hold the power to shape your own destiny, free from the constraints of your current existence."

I listened intently, my mind awash with visions of a brighter future, one where I held the reins of control. Vox's promises sounded like a siren's song, irresistible and alluring, promising salvation from the torment of my current reality.

"You crave control, autonomy," Vox's lies sunk into the depths of my psyche, stirring feelings of longing and desire within me. "With me by your side, you can achieve greatness beyond your wildest dreams."

His words resonated with a truth I wanted to believe, something that struck a chord deep within me, igniting a spark of hope in the darkness of my despair. The thought of casting off the shackles of my past and embracing a future filled with limitless possibilities filled me with a sense of exhilaration.

"You will be revered, feared, respected," Vox said, softer.

The allure of power and influence beckoned to me like a beacon in the night, promising a life of luxury and privilege beyond my wildest imagination. With each passing moment, my resolve faded away, my mind muddled from the torture and desperately searching for some reprieve.

At last, Vox asked the question again, his voice a mere whisper in the darkness.

“Will you join me?”

A small shock shot through me before I could answer. Unbearable. “Yes,” I said softly, breathing raggedly.

He nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I will have your soul in return for all the benefits I just mentioned. Do we have a deal?”

Without hesitation, I answered.

“Yes.”

Vox's screen flickers with satisfaction as he releases me from my bindings. “Good,” He said, with a slight nod. He watched me slump over like a rag doll without the support of the bindings, a wicked grin forming on his face.

"Now," Vox's voice rang out, commanding and authoritative. "You are mine, body and soul. From this moment forth, your every action, every thought, will be in service to me."

“I was going to keep you as a pet but…” he trailed off and picked me up, my head lolling to the side. I was unable to move much. He repositioned me, supporting my neck and head more, so he could see my eyes. They were glazed over, compliant. “I think you’ll make for an excellent doll, instead.”

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luckthebard · 1 year

Text

Ok so here's the second half of my meta thoughts on C3E51 and encounter design, focusing on the powerful NPCs (former PCs, if you will) (first half of this meta is HERE):

It's so fun and makes narrative sense for Caleb and Beau to be there but I don't think they were ever going to stop Ludinus, no matter how Liam and Marisha rolled. The low rolls meant they got captured as opposed to assisting the Hells more, but once they were captured I kind of breathed a sigh of relief? Not a huge one because I figured Matt wouldn't cross that line, but it was confirmation that they have some degree of plot armor. If Matt wanted Beau and Caleb to truly be in danger of dying without their players controlling them (imo, a breach in ttrpg etiquette unless there were serious conversations about it), Ludinus would have killed them right then. Instead we got a full: "Now Mr. Bond, it would be smarter to kill you, but you must be here to witness my triumph!" Which I love, to be clear - monologue your heart out, Ludinus!

So yeah we don't 100% know what happened to Caleb and Beau in the aftermath, but if they weren't killed earlier there's no way they were killed off screen. And the players are clearly thinking about checking in - Liam called out "who has the sending stone to Caleb" before the ended the episode so it's likely we'll get someone trying that out and rendering any speculation moot soon anyway.

Regarding the other former PCs, Keyleth's role in the encounter was very similar, in that of course she would be there, but this is not her story. So she was more of an encounter beat and an important piece of the narrative, and not as active of a presence. Same goes for the Champion of Ravens, who functioned more as a plot device.

And all of this, really, is related to how this is Bells Hells' story, and not any other party or character's. Keyleth and Beau and Caleb and Vax are there, sure, but they're there to raise the stakes or add texture and tension to the world or, in Vax's case, to be a plot device. They're not active in the way Bells Hells are, even though we know and love them. They're not centered here. It's like how Allura had her own history with Thordak, but even with that she was never the one leading the charge against the dragons, and Vox Machina spent a while not even knowing if she survived the initial attack on Emon.

What is centered in this encounter design and the narrative that comes from it is Bells Hells. They are the active movers in the narrative that unfolded, and they will be the most active pieces moving forward - because we're following them, even as the world continues around them! They did enough damage to somehow mess with Ludinus's plan. There has not been an immediate negative outcome on a planet-wide scale to the machine turning on, although one is surely coming. And Bells Hells are now taking a lot more information (what is powering the machine, the knowledge to target Otohan's Echo machine to weaken her, etc.) into future encounters.

#meta #cr spoilers #critical role #ok I think that's all my long rambling thoughts spewed out across two posts lol #now to get on with my Saturday

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pixelatedtaken · 2 months

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Alastor, Vox, and their Rivalry

...or the nothing it gave us

S1 Analysis

this is based on information the show's s1 gave us. this can and will most likely change once the next seasons release.

disclaimer: this is not a ship analysis. you can read it however you like, but it's not intended for ship purposes

SPOILERS AHEAD ↓

Even before Vox was introduced, it was made clear that Alastor has a... distaste for modern electronics. Even so, he seems to know how to navigate them. He's familiar with TVs and their mechanics, watching and making commercials.

So let's start with:

Radio vs. TV

By default, both represent different eras of media: the Radio and the TV.

It's a very old classical tale of old vs. new that to this day, there's debates on it. Alastor and Vox are exactly that. The debate of which is better. The old and reliable way or the new developed way. The one that doesn't appreciate the changes being made and the one who embraces it. A Radio Demon and a TV Demon.

And they are that simple old vs. new dynamic. Different but similar.

Alastor vs. Vox

Vox first gets mentioned through the title of the Vees by Sir Pentious. And even with Alastor's response, "Oh, nobody important." we're hinted at a dynamic, in this case indifference, which is mostly how Alastor tends to treat and act towards Vox. Mostly...

On the other hand, Vox is obsessed. From knowing that Alastor was gone for 7 years, the hate drawing, the 'fuck alastor' mug, the cameras, the ripped photo, you can even go as far as saying their outfits– he's not subtle about it.

As soon as Vox learns about Alastor's return, he has an overdramatic response with his nails digging into the table, voice changing, and his cameras instantly on Alastor. In general, Vox has cameras probably all over hell, but keeping an eye on Alastor is tricky when the man glitches every time he's being recorded etc, etc. This is also stated by the fact that in the 7 years Alastor had been gone, not even Vox knew where he was.

And Alastor is very aware of the fact that Vox is watching him. So aware that he even posed for the camera (you can argue all you want, he posed). Midly encouraging the behavior as such. Either by the pose or by saying that Vox needs to try harder in his endeavor.

This is where I say that Alastor is also obsessed. In a different way but not any less.

Here's a core attribute the two demons share: Attention.

They want attention, to be the center of it. And although Alastor barely, if at all, provides Vox with it... Vox certainly does provide to the fullest, and Alastor is more than happy to let it happen. With that being said, when Vox was broadcasting the tarnishing of his name, it was a different story. He went back to his tower as quickly as possible - grabbing a cup of coffee on his way - and more or less owned Vox's ass.

Speaking of the song, it's worth noting that Alastor perfectly responded to the part of the song that was never broadcasted, the beginning. It could have been for thematic purposes. It could have been that he somehow knew, the how alludes me.

Let's bring up a certain picture:

Throughout episode 2, much of their relationship was hinted and kept mostly hostile, but this picture gave a whole new meaning to it all.

Alastor, the demon that distorts devices and renders them unable to capture him on film, has a photograph taken of him without any glitches. And next to him in that photograph is none other than Vox.

Meaning:

Alastor allowed the picture to be taken.

Alastor and Vox were close.

They had formed a bond, and the closest thing we can call it, is a friendship. But between the then and the now, something broke that bond.

One thing could have been Alastor's dislike for modern technology vs. Vox's like for evolution, which could have played a role in their fallout. As such, a chain reaction of events begins to unfold.

If it was that dislike, resulting to disagreements, where it started or not, we don't know, but we do know that their relationship fell apart after Vox asked Alastor to join his team, and he refused. They became hostile towards each other, most likely beyond repair since, before Alastor disappeared, they had a fight.

We don't know how brutal the fight was, but we do have the line, "You still pissed he almost beat you that time?". Keyword: Almost. Alastor ALMOST beat Vox but decidedly did not. From Alastor's backstory, we know he's more than capable of defeating overlords without a second thought.

Here's a question: Why didn't he kill Vox?

Maybe it's for stupid reasons. Maybe it's not. Who knows, but we know that he didn't kill him and that Vox was resilient enough to not be easily beaten.

One thing is for sure, the picture re-contextualizes behaviors and actions.

Although at its core, their relationship is a rivalry, adding a possible friendship changes the initial view they gave us of them.

And I'll end it by saying that Alastor calls Vox 'old pal'. If that means something or absolutely nothing, I don't know.

BTW! Calling Alastor obsessed isn't in the same context as Vox. Alastor is obsessed with the never-ending attention while Vox is obsessed with Alastor himself. Just a clarification. Though I wonder how many people stuck this long to read, it's not like I'm saying something new here. I can't wait for all of this to be trashed and debunked somehow in the future.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin analysis #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin spoilers #alastor #vox #radiostatic #staticradio #but not so much in a ship way but rather just an analysis of the relationship #the red/blue dynamic strikes my brain again #im just saying that they can be so very complex if you think about it #a rivarly that can give us something more #feel free to ignore #ok bye

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planefood · 7 months

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Wtf is up with browsers the past couple years, I feel like i'm going insane but does anyone feel like browsers and browser based apps (like discord) are becoming ridiculously slow? I was accustomed to that kinda speed like a decade ago and expect better. I USE FIREFOX!!! This has been an issue on every browser I've used. The tower PCs at my uni struggle to run chrome and firefox sometimes and those guys are for rendering 3D animation, so if a computer like that struggles with browsers what the hell is happening, a browser is something every modern internet connected device should have easy access too and now I can't even open another window without it crapping out and crashing my entire computer. I clear out the history regularly... Is this just a me thing?

#I feel like everyone just throws 'use firefox' at issues like this #dont get me wrong i love it but its still clunking up all the computers i use

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your-punk-mom · 2 months

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Do the red geraniums matter?

When we think about media literacy, we often think about tropes, cinematic and literary devices, references, and Easter eggs. All of these are explicit ways for creators to communicate with us, the audience.

But we know there’s a lot of *implicit* communication happening too, such as how a character is lit from scene to scene, the color palette of the set, and camera angle.

Not everything in an artwork is on purpose. But Rem’s red geraniums must be intentional, at least in Stampede. They qualify as a repeating motif, even rendered gigantic in E12.

So what the hell do they mean?!

Well, kids, I consulted the Oracle today. By which I mean I Googled it.

Have you heard about the language of flowers? Go check it out, it’s almost as fascinating as tarot and not nearly as likely to get you kicked out of church.

Turns out there’s a ton of possibilities here. It could be as simple as Rem’s birth flower. That would make her a Scorpio, and some say Scorpios prefer dark red flowers.

It could be a reference to the book “To Kill a Mockingbird”, which uses red geraniums to signify redemption, forgiveness of cruelty, and above all hope for a better future.

In Wicca, red geraniums symbolize protection. Rem gives up her life protecting others, and Vash spends all his energy and time protecting others. So red geraniums fit perfectly with this theme.

I think we can dismiss the love-letter meaning “Your smile bewitches me!” Even I can’t rationalize that one. But there’s a lot of other weird stuff too, like how the Victorians defined all geraniums as “stupidity or folly”. In numerology, it’s supposed to be the number 7. They also apparently are good for repelling squirrels, attracting pollinator insects, and are deer resistant. Make of that what you will.

I like the Wiccan protection meaning a lot, but the TKaM reference makes sense to me. Vash believes it is never too late for anyone to choose peace. He is all about redemption and hope.

Anybody else have thoughts to add?

#trigun stampede #vash the stampede #rem saverem #red geraniums #when is a flower not just a flower #this shitpost got out of hand #i fell down a rabbit hole full of symbolic flowers

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infestedguest · 1 year

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Something I’ve never heard anyone talk about that bugs me is that on stranger things ao3 crosstagging has rendered the stancy tag functionally useless without filtering.

I would not be surprised if the vast majority of fics in the stancy tag are steddie and/or ronance or harringrove.

I have the most recent page of the stancy tag open in a different tab right now. 4/20 of those are actually stancy fics. I don’t even mean that it’s just a background ship for most of the other fics, 15 of those 16 remaining fics clarify in their other tags and in their summaries that they are about a different ship involving Steve or Nancy and are only using stancy as a narrative device to further the romantic storyline of the ship the fic is actually about. (In the 16th fic stancy was a background pairing, but even that one is also tagged “Nancy and Steve don’t stay together.”)

Some of these fics have additional tags that either:

Express the author’s distaste for stancy

Explicitly state that it isn’t a stancy friendly fic.

The latter of which completely baffles me! Scratch that, both baffle me! Do these people not realize that people who ship stancy use the stancy tag? Honestly I’m not sure if some of them are aware that people who ship stancy actually exist.

Yes, I can just filter out other ships, which I do, that feature is a godsend, but I shouldn’t have to plug in every single ship involving Steve or Nancy into the filter just to be able to see more than one stancy fic in a row in the stancy tag.

This isn’t a problem for a lot of the other ships in the fandom (thought definitely not all of them). Hell, I haven’t encountered anything like this in the twelve years I’ve been reading fanfiction, it’s ridiculous.

To those considering crosstagging stancy in their steddie/ronance/etc. fic: just tag it “Minor Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler.” I don’t care if they’re relationship/breakup is a major plot point, it still doesn’t belong in the actual stancy tag. When you go into the steddie/ronance/etc tag are you looking for fics where that ship breaks up in order to progress a different ship involving one of its characters? Because that describes a good 80% of the stancy tag right now.

“Minor Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler” is better than “Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler” in my opinion, since last time I checked fics tagged with the latter still show up in the stancy tag.

Edit: I have been informed that “works tagged "minor [pairing]" are wrangled into that pairings tag if it's in the relationship tags. Has to be in Other Tags to not get wrangled there.” Thank you @monstrous-femme for your ao3 tagging wisdom.

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gorogues · 2 months

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I was looking up the Rogues for some writing. When I remembered Trickster and the mind altering stuff that did him dirty. Is this scene the one where Trickster is reverted back to his “original” because of Top. Cause if it is. I don’t think it is. I think Top believed that he undid his own work but what he actually did was mess up Trickster even more.

“He’ll never help anyone but himself.”

I feel like that right there is Top pushing his own views on what Trickster should actually be and the not Trickster himself.🧐

That's one way of interpreting it, and it's certainly a valid one, though we may never know what Johns intended unless he elaborates.

Without any word-of-the-author explaining what he meant, I think it comes down to whether one wants to be charitable to James, or to Roscoe…and I know that most people would rather be charitable to James (he's got tons more fans). And Roscoe's my favourite and I like to defend him against fan hostility so I probably lean towards being charitable to him 🤷

Here's the thing: Roscoe is frequently a huge dickhead, especially in the modern era. But James has also had some real dickhead moments, and I'm not talking about the OOC garbage that was Countdown or the questionable shenanigans of "The Greatest Trick Of All". Even in James' "I'm not a mean man" issue, he intentionally caused a gondola full of people plummet to the ground so the Flash would be forced to save them and he could escape. Sorry James, that was incredibly mean and people could have died. (It probably happened before he even met Roscoe because Rogue team-ups were extremely uncommon at that point, but we don't actually know when the two of them met).

James used his mind-control device on Big Sir -- a man with intellectual disabilities -- and told the Rogues that turning it to the highest setting would eventually render Big Sir a vegetable. The Rogues laughed about it, as did James. And James' reform was pretty much because he didn't want to go to Hell and be at the mercy of Neron, which he stated very clearly. He wasn't doing it out of some intrinsically noble nature, it was largely self-interest.

So neither of these guys is innocent, even if James is definitely kinder and gentler than Roscoe. James is unquestionably a better person. But what I'm saying is that he also has darkness in him and has had it since the Silver Age, even if we don't see it very often, so Roscoe didn't need to force anything into him for it to appear. And thus whether Roscoe did or didn't do that is likely up to individual interpretation.

#demonbirdsforever #words #the Trickster #the Top

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asimpforhotpixels · 2 years

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Title: The Creator's Guardian (Chapter 1)

Summary: a tale of Teyvat's creator's adventure as she tries to retrieve what she lost and hopefully purge her world of the corruption that plagues it. a tale told by a very overworked guardian as they try to save their beloved creator from her own stupidity and flirtiness

Series Warnings: Spoilers probably, Blood, Violence (a lot less than most impostor fics but still pretty gory) Overlooked trauma, Bottled emotions. will add more as the series progress

Additional Tags: Semi-Canon compliant, Women-centric as hell, OOC characters, Self-Indulgent series, Kinda SAGAU, the more accurate tag would be semi-soft! impostor cult AU. Creator/Guardian!Reader/Genshin Women. A very flirty, stubborn, "humor is my coping mechanism" Divine God. Omnipotent Characters. (A very sleep-deprived author so if you're confused, don't worry I am too.)

Reader Pronouns: They/Them

Word Count: 3541 words

Author’s Note: I...might've been too self-indulgent in this one- constructive criticism is welcomed <3, have fun loves <3

Taglist: @chocoenvy @moorzy

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“Have you decided on a name for yourself yet?” she asked you in an affectionate tone

She’s standing right beside you as you walked together in her garden. Your sense of smell is overwhelmed by the scent of countless flowers as your hands brush their petals. You opened your legs slightly as you walked when you felt the little fox cubs with their squirrel friends running between them.

“I still don’t see why that’s necessary, Your Grace.” you replied, carefully picking a flower to place behind your creator’s ear

“Why not? Aleizal (Ah-Ley-Zuhl) already chose hers.” she chuckles, caressing the Calla Lily that you placed

“Oh please, I rather not you compare me to…whatever she is.” You scoffed

“Is this jealousy?” Your creator teased, poking your cheek while giggling like a child

“I simply prefer offering everything I have and am to my one and only creator, is that perhaps too much to ask Your Grace?” You smirked, which made her lift an eyebrow with a slight red tint adorning her flower-framed face.

“My, my, my. You’ve been spending too much time with the Kitsunes haven’t you?” She pats your cheek before walking away with you right on her tail

“Have you ever heard of the saying ‘It is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye?’ “ She speaks after a few minutes of silence

“Yes?” You ask, confused as to what exactly she’s implying

“Well, it is important for my heart that you gain a little autonomy. After all, whatever would you do when I’m gone if you’re too dependent on me?”

“My sole purpose is to be your guardian, your sword and shield. That’s all I-” your words got cut off when she unleashed a strong jet of hydro right into your mouth

“I created you as my companion. My friend if you will, perhaps even more.” She winks at you, enjoying the way ores began to appear on your face, your body’s way of expressing embarrassment

“I never wanted you to discard your own safety for my sake. But that’s exactly what you did, didn’t you? You threw yourself right in front of me when he attacked me, rendering you completely useless. Useless. You’re the reason I died in the first place.”

What? This wasn’t how it went-

“Of course, it wasn’t how it went.” Someone chuckled right on your ear as the scene in front of you faded into pitch black

“Poor little guardian~ So pathetic.” That voice reverberated around your head as you frantically searched for the source

You then felt a hand grip your jaw, forcing it to stay in place as she played the most painful memory that you keep so deeply hidden inside your brain.

The Creator’s downfall.

You are forced to watch as the same Gods that your beloved Creator made barged into her domain, an eerie-looking device in their hands and leaving no time for talking automatically activated it. Deep, evil smirks on their face as you realized that whatever it is, it posed a great threat to your Creator. You only managed to push her aside, taking the hit that was meant for her.

The last sight you saw was her. Her beautiful galaxy-embedded eyes filled with pure fear and despair. And with that, you remained unconscious and inactive. Until The Tsaritsa along with the First and Third Harbinger, Pierro and Columbina managed to set you free.

Since that night, it was all you could ever remember as you gazed up into the night sky. The moment where you failed to protect Teyvat’s true Goddess.

“Hmmm… Such a deliciously pitiful expression you have there.” She says as she finally comes into your line of sight

“Aleizal.” You growled out, attempting to summon your double-bladed polearm, your signature weapon, only for it to not heed your call

“Oh dear, have the years corroded your brain, or did you just desperately try to forget everything that is connected to me? I must say, that hurts. Whatever that is you are doing? It won’t work” She sighs in faux hurt

“Cease with the hollow and flawed speech and tell me what it is you truly want.” You stared at her annoyingly beautiful eyes.

“My, If I were truly the Creator herself, you wouldn’t even dare to speak like this. Too bad I just wear the same face.” She tilts your chin upwards with such force as she languidly runs her fingers on the seal she placed right on your throat

She hums in satisfaction before walking away, allowing you to look around. You know in yourself that you’re still somewhere in Snezhnaya since you can still feel the presence of Tsaritsa’s gnosis. However, you’re somewhere in-

“You’re in my domain. You are as powerless as when you were merely a bunch of ores and flowers when the creator made you in here so don’t even bother fighting the ropes around your wrists.” She nonchalantly says as she sits in an elevated chair. You refuse to call it a throne because she doesn’t deserve that.

“Since when did you have a domain?”

“Since I learned to be independent of course”

“You mean when you betrayed our Benevolent Goddess?” as soon as those words escaped she fixed a cold hard glare right to your eyes as an invisible force pulled you close to her,

“I never betrayed her.” She calmly stated. However, you can see the anger in her eyes, the anger that was slowly boiling over

“I simply… explored other choices. Found other methods to become much more powerful than what our Goddess would’ve allowed” You sarcastically smiled at her

“Ah yes. Did that option involve sucking his-”

“OH YOU-” She tried to grip the collar of your Fatui Uniform but it only passed through as you feel yourself fading away

“Aww, have you been growing weak lately? Not enough divine presence I presume? Can’t even keep your domain up for 15 minutes.” You teased her, knowing full well that in terms of divine presence, you have your reserves running lower than hers since she’s been hanging with false Gods.

“I suggest keeping your mouth shut. The only reason I was able to drag you here was that you were vulnerable to the sudden influx of divine presence. Get off your high horse because I will soon snuff that source out like I’ve done thousands of years ago. Mark. My. Words.”

You woke up with a sharp gasp and with a sharp jolt as you sat up quickly. Only when you felt a cold hand on your shoulder did you release yourself from your stupor, slowly calming down as you took in the familiar surroundings.

“You gave us quite the fright little one.” Tsaritsa guides you back into a laying position as she caresses your hair

“I am significantly older than you, Tsaritsa. Besides, how long was I unconscious?” You groaned, still feeling a slight headache

“3 weeks. We already possess the Geo gnosis, which in turn gives us possession of 3 gnoses. La Signora has secured that and is on her way home with Tartaglia. Lumine has also started searching for the Creator, however, she always seems to be a step too late.” The Tsaritsa recounted as she gives you a glass of water followed by a tray of mysterious medicine

“Dottore dropped these before he left with Pantalone for Liyue, Pantalone appears to have something to fix within the affairs of the Northland Bank. He says that these should help stabilize your body and reduce the headaches, however, you must seek the Creator as soon as possible. Not just for your sake but hers as well. That wretched impostor has issued another decree…” The Tsaritsa walks toward the large window you have in your chambers, it oversees the southwest part of her kingdom, admiring the way the snowflakes glow in her vicinity.

The temperature in your room gets colder, defeating your fireplace’s warmth. The Tsaritsa was never one to express emotions clearly. You must first get to know her intimately, if she lets you that is before you are able to accurately identify her tells. The temperature phenomenon only happens when she’s in a state of red hot anger.

The Tsaritsa explains that the decree was supposedly made after the countless reports of an impostor running around and actively hurting people through suspicious means such as controlling monsters to attack knights etc. Due to that, the ever-so-merciful Creator has ordered a detainment for said impostor in order for a trial to happen.

“Are you implying that everyone in Teyvat is hunting down Her Ladyship?” You stood up, your body’s regeneration skills partnered with Dottore’s medicine have worked wonders and you feel as good as new

“Yes.”

Suddenly a strong quake shook the ground as your fireplace fought to keep your fires contained, Your body shook with the earthquake and a frown adorned your face.

“I will be walking myself down into the abyss first before they try to harm a single hair on her grace’s hair.”

“Yes, yes. I would appreciate it if you do so without either burying my castle under an avalanche, crumbling it, or melting it down. Thank you very much.” She says as she plucks a flaming flower from your head, encasing it in cryo to prevent it from harming anyone

You shook yourself out of your small fit and began dressing, ready for travel as you plan on journeying to Inazuma as soon as possible.

“Well, look on the bright side of everything, Dear Guardian. One of Arlecchino’s children has intel and evidence that Her Ladyship is heading towards Inazuma. Apparently, The Abyss Princess’ twin brother has managed to smuggle her in the Crux.”

“I see. His name is Aether. if you forgot.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You just-”

It was then that you felt a very familiar disturbance in the air, it felt eerie, yet comforting. A gentle prickle on your skin.

“It seems that Lumine is coming bearing some news,” Tsaritsa says as she waits for Lumine to step through

However, Lumine didn’t, instead only her hand came through. As if sensing your direction, the hand darted towards you, grabbing you and pulling you towards the abyss portal.

“Hey! Lumi what gives…” Your voice fades as your entire being rearranges itself.

You are quite used to this since Lumine used to bring you along in her travels but the experience never ceases to be so…disorienting.

Somewhere in Inazuma…

“Oh fuck fuck fuck putangina fuck shit fuck fuck shit pussy cunt fucking goddamnit.” A certain outlander cusses out loud as she is chased by a horde of angry people, quite a lot of them are vision holders, in fact, they were the very same characters she knows and loves, even the fucking archons are chasing her

“This looks like a scene from a movie where there’s a witch hunt, but I’m not a witch. I mean, I don’t think I am, do witches even exist in Genshin? OH SHIT- Barsibatoes’ arrow nearly hit me there woohoo. I guess we leaning and rocking here.” She spoke her thoughts with a breathless huff

“What did I do to deserve this honestly! I should’ve pet more cats since obviously the cat molecules on me isn’t triggering Venti’s allergy-”

“Cease running at once and face your punishment impostor!” Her words were cut by some random shogunate soldier

“Rude! I was trying to monologue here. This reminds me of high school days honestly, only I never remember being so…athletic.” and just as she says that, she trips on a pebble and lands flat on her face

“Fuck. I have read far too many SAGAU fics to know that this happening with 3 archons right on my ass is never a good sign,” she tells herself as she scrambles to get up as she always did.

The fall scraped her skin, thus allowing an inky black substance to trickle down the wound. She knew that these people were right. If she truly fell into Teyvat, then she would be the true God had she had golden blood. But no, hers was pitch black as if the Abyss itself is in her. However what confused her the most is the fact that with every tired step she made, grass would grow so tall as if hiding her from her pursuers. And should she encounter any mob or animal on her way, they would attack those who are chasing her

It was all too confusing for her, however, she doesn’t have even a single second to think because Raiden Shogun, Zhongli, and Venti were sending attack upon attack right at her as she tries her best to avoid it all. She noticed that they had this animalistic gaze fixed on her, their eyes have this flickering reddish-purple tint. Which would’ve been normal on Ei or rather, The Shogun since she is the Electro Archon, however for Zhongli and Venti to have the same? It was suspicious, but she can’t afford to worry about that on top of her own safety.

And then her luck runs out.

She skidded to a stop as she realized that she was chased to the edge of a cliff. Which mountain cliff is she in? She doesn’t know and she doesn’t care to find out. With her heart pounding with adrenaline and fear, her breathing faster than Lightning McQueen, she turned to face her assailants.

“I know I said that I would’ve loved to be stuck down by your booba sword but I meant it in a sexy way, not in a murderous way.” She nervously chuckled at the Shogun who was slowly advancing towards her, with Zhongli and Venti shadowing her.

“I will pay no mind to your distasteful nonsense impostor, so long as you let yourself be tied, arrested, and punished for your crimes!” The Shogun declares as she points her polearm at her

“What crimes?! I simply just woke up in this world with an arrow pointed to my face by that tone-deaf bard over there?! What? Is being this attractive a crime now?! I haven’t done a single thing that would be considered “evil” when compared to the deeds you all have done in your past. Makoto, Guizhong, and whoever the fuck’s body that is you’re wearing would all be so disappointed-” Her words were yet again interrupted as The Shogun slashed her throat with such rage in her animalistic eyes

Her hands quickly went up her throat in an effort to stop the disgusting black blood she now possesses. It overflowed so ominously, threatening. She felt lightheaded as she staggers back. She then gazes up at the people in front of her as if to mock them. She felt how the air crackled with electricity, how the wind picked up speed as the ground shook.

She failed to notice how the non-vision wielders have now fainted.

She failed to notice the pain and confusion in the archon’s eyes

She did notice the very fact that as she struggles to breathe, the skies opened up, a figure gliding down with grace as the crowd parted. They radiate power, elegance, and knowledge.

It was then she realized, that this was Teyvat’s Goddess… and that it is really weird seeing your face on another body. This must be how Venti’s friend felt.

In her brain’s last-ditch effort for safety, she figured that death by heights is a much better way to die rather than be a spectacle and die while being gawked at like some animal at a zoo.

And so she allowed herself to fall backward, feeling that familiar tug in your stomach, similar to the feeling you feel when you ride a rollercoaster.

She enjoyed the last bits of life, she always enjoyed the wind rushing through her body, the thrill of it made her laugh bitterly

“I hope this is all just a fucking dream.” As soon as she uttered those words, she felt herself slam into something hard.

It was hard, yes. But it was…softer than what she thought it would be.

“Your Eminence!” she heard someone exclaim, it was then followed by frantic shouts as she felt wave after wave of relief pass through her

Soon enough, she felt good enough that she managed to open her eyes and what greeted her were warm pairs of eyes, so vibrant and comforting that in a haze she clung unto whoever this was.

“Pretty eyes and warm…” and with that, she succumbed to the darkness that was tempting her since ages ago

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop the rage that was now boiling over.

“Herald.”

“Yes, my liege?” Answered the Abyss Herald that Lumine has by her side

“Stay here and guard our Creator. If even the smallest scratch adorns her body while I go and deal with some pest, your head will be on a stick. Is that clear?” You threatened in an eerily calm tone as you carefully set your beloved creator down on the huge comfy leaf that you have conjured up

“Yes, my liege.” He replies with a slight quiver

Take a deep breath in and close your eyes in order to remind yourself that the creator would definitely punish you for killing off every single being in this world.

Well, what the creator doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

And with that, you manipulated the strings of fate, tying each and everyone present as of this moment in an intricately designed web of despair. Their screams echoed into the night, the trees shook as if laughing and the animals watched in morbid curiosity.

“[NAME!]” She angrily shouted, desperately struggling to get out of the chains binding her, cutting her as golden droplets escape her flesh bag.

“I have warned you countless times Aleizal. Harm me all you want for your sadistic pleasure, but never harm Her Grace. It was quite simple, isn’t it? I let you play around, parading as Her Grace for your entertainment while I focused on looking for ways to revive Her Grace. This is the last bit of my patience Alei. Do. Not. Make. Me. Your. Enemy.“ You gripped her jar the same way she did yours, frowning deeply as you resent the malicious and brutish expression on her face.

You resent the fact that she dares taint her eminence’s face and honor with her repulsive personality, expression, and actions.

You suddenly let her go as you stumbled back away from her, scratching your throat with your claws as the sigil embedded there lit up

You’re running out of time.

As much as you’re enjoying this scenery in front of you right now, there are much more pressing matters to attend to. So without a word, you jumped from the cliff and landed right in front of Lumine and Her Grace as you quickly picked up while the Herald conjured up a portal.

“Lumine!” a masculine voice shouts, his head peeking down into the cliff

“Aether…” Lumine whispered, looking over her shoulder

“You can stay, however, I have no guarantee as to how long that rope will last so you have to make your decision… leave him once again, or drag him to Snezhnaya.” You state

Leaving Lumine alone to make her decision you hurriedly step into the portal. While you may have healed Her Grace from her superficial wounds, you sense that her soul has yet to completely pierce herself together, thus letting such uncontrollable streams of divine power and presence escape. She must’ve been so tired.

You heaved a sigh as you realized that not everything is as it seems. The world created by the woman in your arms still has so many secrets that you have yet to discover.

Your eyes then widened as the events that happened today due to your impulses crashed down on you. Walking forward as soon as you felt the cold and the crystal floors at your feet, droplets of red, gold, and black blood drip down from you, a sour look on your face as fatui agents look at you in shock while they fall down to their knees

It was either because of the feeling of awe they felt upon seeing their Goddess…or the despair upon seeing you dirty the floors, either way, all the ruckus has managed to drag all the harbingers and the Tsaritsa out of their chambers.

“[Name]?”

“I think I just started another war.”

You got your creator back…but at what cost?

#genshin sagau #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin women x reader #fatui harbinger women x reader #la signora x reader #rosalyne kruzchka lohefalter #la signora #arlecchino x reader #the knave x reader #columbina x reader #damselette x reader #sandrone x reader #marionette x reader #sagau #I don't know what else to tag this with hhhhh #this was supposed to be a soft fic?

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bri-to-the-future · 1 year

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We all know the original screenplay for BTTF 2 where Biff gave the almanac to himself in 1967 instead of 1955, right? Well, I thought since everyone has been making such lovely stuck in the (insert time period here) AUs, it’d be nice if someone made a…

*drumroll*

Stuck in the 60s AU!

(All credit to PotatoLord’s Picrew!)

It’s just some vague ideas right now, but i love the concept and im definitely gonna flesh it out more once Spaceman from Pluto is finished!

Here’s what i’ve got so far…

80s Doc gets arrested in Hell Valley and insists that he’ll be fine and that Marty needs to go to the 60s and get the almanac

Marty is able to get it after some difficulty (same as in screenplay) and burns it, not willing to take it with him when Doc is at risk

He still gets stop by a police officer, still doesnt have a draft card or id to prove hes a minor, and still gets arrested

He asks Goldie to put out that his name is Marty Klein and that he’s been arrested, knowing that Doc from the 60s still lives in Hill Valley as an inventor

Doc shows up with bail for him and he looks way different than Marty expected. Also, apparently hes a chemistry professor at Hill Valley Community College, which is news to Marty

He gives him a lift to the barn where the Delorean is parked, Marty giving an extremely vague (at Doc’s insistence) explanation on why he’s there on the way, but when they get there they’re both horrified to find that the Delorean is absolutely totalled ((with no 80s Doc to scare the Peabodys away, they didn’t stop at just shooting Mr Fusion and went ham on the car, rendering it completely useless, but thankfully managing to leave the Flux Capacitor in tact))

Doc says he should be able to fix most of the damage but that it will take a while, a good few months at the very least but worst case scenario Marty could be there for a year or two, and there’s no way he’ll be able to fix the futuristic device on the back (Mr Fusion) so once it is fixed they’ll need a new plan to get the 1.21 gigawatts of power, especially since the lightning strike on the courthouse was an isolated incident in Hill Valley’s history

Marty is devastated and spends the first week or so just moping around Doc’s garage and keeping Newton company but after nine days of that Doc insists that some fresh air will do him some good and forces him to come to the college with him

He was right, of course, and Marty finally starts to lighten up and have fun with him again afterwards

After classes are done Doc finally gets Marty to go get some era appropriate clothes with him but when they see Lorraine trying to keep track of an entirely too small Dave and Linda while George looks at ties they immediately turn around and walk into a different store

They’re only able to keep that up for another few days before Marty’s court date comes (who knew his Mom was so anti-war??) and she comes to congratulate him on his innocent verdict after Doc shows the court his (forged) birth certificate proving he’s a minor

When she asks if he’s related to the Marty Klein she knew in high school he tells her they were cousins who were named after the same ancestor and that Doc is watching him for a while but he’s not sure how long

Marty figures out pretty quickly that Doc takes LSD and honestly he’s not sure what to think about that

One day he walks into the living room and Doc is sprawled on the couch with his jacket off for once, clearly tripping his ass off, but Marty spots these bizarre brown lines running the length of his arms that look like scars but were definitely never there in the 80s and honestly he’s a little too freaked out to care whether or not Doc is entirely coherent right now he needs to know what’s going on

“Doc, Doc, what the hell are those?” “What?” “On your arms, Doc, whats that brown stuff!?” And Doc has the gall to look fucking amused! “They’re Lichtenberg figures, Marty. Surely you’ve seen me with short sleeves in the future? The stretch all the way to my shoulders.” Marty is shocked. “Of course I’ve seen you with short sleeves, hell, you’ve had to take your whole shirt off cause of chemical spills, but I’ve never seen those before!” But then a look of realisation crosses Doc’s face. “Oh, of course! They were caused when I accidentally became part of the circuit when the plug came undone that night I sent you back to the future, it makes perfect sense you haven’t had a chance to see them yet.” “They were caused by WHAT!?!?”

Cue Marty having a guilt induced panic attack and Doc having no idea what to do because he’s still mid-trip but eventually getting the hang of it. Once Marty’s calmed down he decides he’s not gonna touch the stuff anymore, not when it impairs his ability to care for Marty (and even when he leaves, what if this had been one of his students?? No, best to leave the stuff behind for good)

Ofc this means once he does fix the Delorean his plan to power it is much less dangerous and terrifying. … its still similar though. Doc will still blow up the safety inhibitor at the power plant and Marty will still hook onto high powered wires, just at the power plant rather than over the grand fucking canyon (the plan is still a work in progress & i havent decided how long it will take Doc to fix the deloreon yet)

When Marty gets back to 85 (now back to perfectly normal Lone Pine Hill Valley, thankfully) the first thing he does is find Doc and give him a massive hug, which he returns just as enthusiastically

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