#and one monty python reference

[maxxxines]

tweet of the year

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

For your random heroes and villains prompts, cna you please do the word "Knight"? 🛡️⚔️👀

Love,

@heroes-villains-side-blog

Hmm, a tricky one because I can’t think of knights without thinking about these Going Medieval articles, but let’s see:

Knight

“Hero, you make me think of a knight of the ancient times.” “Really?” “Yes, really. You’re a mercenary lapdog used by some authority to control the masses by force.”

Henchman has accidentally set up a trap in the evil lair and is now stuck in the dark tower. Villain has to come to their rescue and the only way is to...climb it? Aw, come on.

Hero doesn’t live in a peculiar town. They go wherever there’s trouble, accepts every quest on their way, then leaves and never looks back. This time, someone wants to convince them to stay.

By mistake, Villain has given life to some old windmills. Only a brave knight can save us now, maybe with a sidekick on a donkey.

Following time hijinks, hero’s idol has come straight from the past, a noble knight who has won countless battles. However, there’s one hell of a generation gap between them.

Hero and Villain are both skilled horse riders. However, Villain’s horse is white and Hero’s horse is black. Who has ever heard of a dark knight as a Hero? Confusion ensues. Public is dissatisfied. They have to make an exchange.

“A sword? You fight with a sword? You are so dead. Do you know what country this is?” “I have holy hand grenades, too. You’re welcome to try them.”

In this world, heroes has one person assigned that they have to protect before all. Of course, Hero has to protect Citizen, Villain’s secret identity.

To be one day a full hero, sidekicks have to obey them faithfully, to follow them in their quests and be at their constant service. Sidekick is...not okay with this.

Supervillain has released a dragon that wrecks the city. Hero is supposed to fight and kill it. Villain wants to adopt it. It’s on.

*

More prompts like this under this tag.

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

[surrealisticduvet]

I mean, look at arson.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

second to last song on this album babyyy we're gonna finish it!

many thanks to @bienmoreau for the album art; i think i forgot to thank you last time, sorry! check out @greenlikethesea's most recent entry in this series if you wanna get your heart broken but this is tumblr so y'know, probably you do.

"Will the Wise" is the first track off Eddie's third album in @greatunironic's seminal steddie fic the most remarkable thing. i thought that was a fascinating choice of an opener. will of course becomes a professional writer in the most remarkable thing 'verse, so even beyond the experience of having been queer in hawkins, he and eddie would have a fair amount to bond over once they started talking.

this is meant to be a song where eddie really stretches his songwriting muscles and tries to force himself to write about something, anything other than steve, BUT i do feel compelled to add that i think eddie is really impressed that will at least tried to confess romantic feelings for mike, because eddie still finds the prospect of doing the same with steve entirely unimaginable. i think will would probably not describe himself as brave, but that eddie very much sees him that way. also, surviving everything will's survived is arguably metal as hell.

this is a song about queer friendships and creative friendships and, metatextually, about so admiring a friend for something they do (transmute painful emotions into making something) that you kind of miss that you are doing the same thing! also a lot of things rhyme with "wise" so of course that helped.

Take a moment take a breath a vict'ry lap: yeah not dead yet 'cause we are out here cheating death til it comes to collect

make a promise make a start make it past your hungry heart sing, muse of a kid so smart he sees you as you are

Will the wise knows my disguise he's walked the road I stumble down a fort, a heavy crown a pen becomes his saber

Will the wise can recognize they've called him every shitty name but he fought past the shame the colors on the paper…

rolling onward roll the die roll with it yeah, low or high square it up, or at least try even if you just scrape by

Will the wise with ageless eyes he tells me he's not sleeping he's seen the nightmares creeping the shapes stole out of vapor

Will the wise can alchemize pain straight into paint, and when my hope is fading, the colors on the paper the colors on the paper the colors on the paper...

[whosname]

Yeah, did a cat Gintoki version, but he would say it more in that "I AM WOUNDED" Frasier tone, like, HOW DARE YOU?

Also, sketch

Cat Gintoki is easier to draw tha cat Zura, but, again, naturally wavy hair cat, naturally wavy hair me

I know, right @sebfreak?

[kaaaaaaarf]

well, hello fellow photo id holder! 🤝🏻 but yeah, if my friend from vancouver has the funds to rent a car and i would pay for gas and anywhere else we go to (lunch, dinner, etc) but i would hate for her to experience the ttc especially that there seems to be more violence these days. hope you're doing well, k! today (tuesday) was my first day back at work after vacation and i thankfully survived

You wanna know whats funny? I never actually bothered to get an Ontario card until 2021. I was running around trying to get establishments to accept my health card as ID for an age. Never, under any circumstances, underestimate my ability to be lazy

I mean, I honestly don't know what's worse— driving in the city seems like a nightmare, and I think the TTC profits off that.

TTC: Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Everyone else: ...Do we have to? TTC: Yes.

Congrats on making it through the day! Honestly, what an accomplishment. I hope you got yourself a little treat.

[suprememayobros2]

Person who's only ever been exposed to monty python watching british comedy: getting big monty python vibes from this.

[orteil42]

you ever think about the life cycle of jokes? how a joke has to die and decay before a new one can grow there without having to compete for space. what i'm asking is how much longer before a guy pretending to ride a horse is seen as its own joke rather than a monty python reference

[quillyfied]

When you go back and reread some of your own OFMD fic and the GOmens references slap you in the face

[munson-blurbs]

The Boy is Mine (Bug's Version)

Part of @carolmunson's writing challenge! Thank you for spreading some love and joy in this community, and I hope this fic makes you smile.

Summary: A cozy night in with your sweet boyfriend who is a nuisance in the best way.

Warnings: allusions to smut, allusion to spitting, lewd jokes, basically just fluffy fluffness

WC: 1k

--

Poke.

Poke poke.

Poke poke poke.

Poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke–

“If you don’t stop,” you hiss without looking up from your chemistry notes, “we’re gonna have a problem.” 

Eddie pulls his forefinger back from where it’s pressed against your earlobe, his shit-eating grin morphing into a pitiful pout.

“But it’s date night,” he whines, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You promised me we could curl up and watch Monty Python after an hour, and it’s been…” he glances at the digital watch wrapped around his wrist, “...one hour and three minutes.”

“I’m still trying memorize–”

He snaps the small notebook shut and pulls you closer to him, effectively cutting you off. “And you will–after the movie.” Leaning back against the couch, he lines up his finger to once again prod at you. “C’mon, Sweetheart; we never get the place to ourselves on Friday nights.”

He’s right; his uncle has off on Friday nights and usually prefers to spend his free time relaxing at home, but he’s on a fishing trip this weekend with some of his old army buddies. 

“Okay, okay.” Truthfully, you are in dire need of a break; the formulas and lists of molecular compounds have all become meaningless squiggles right before your eyes. Your back hurts from being hunched over the snack table you’re using in lieu of a desk. Whatever ‘studying’ you do now will likely be unproductive, so you might as well snuggle up next to your boyfriend and enjoy a movie. “But only if I can study after. Some of us would prefer not to spend an entire decade in high school.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. You’re the only person who’s allowed to crack jokes about him being held back–twice–and you milk it for all it’s worth. “Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. It’s only been six years. And I’m gonna graduate this time. So, ha.” He sticks out his tongue, making you giggle in turn. “But, fine. You can go back to your smart person mumbo-jumbo once we finish the movie and have sex.”

The last item on his agenda snags your attention as you swing your legs onto the cushion, its stuffing poking out from beneath its worn fabric. “Excuse me?” You cock a brow in disbelief.

“As compensation for the three minutes you spent neglecting me,” he explains with a shrug. “‘S only fair.”

“Sure. You usually only need three minutes anyway.” You lift your foot to dig it into his side, but he grabs it before you can tickle him, playfully bringing it towards his open mouth as though threatening to bite it. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Best three minutes of your goddamn life.” His smirk makes a triumphant reappearance as he stands up and pads over to the kitchen. The refrigerator light illuminates him in a bright glow, a juxtaposing halo on the man wearing a shirt with a cartoon devil plastered on the front. “Wayne took all of the beer with him, but we have Mountain Dew, some orange juice that I think is still good…oh, here it is!” He rummages through the top shelf and pulls out the last can of Diet Coke, the one he’d shoved towards the back so no one drank it before you could.

You shoot him a grateful smile that he returns easily. He plucks two mugs off of the wall, both of them gag gifts he’d given to his uncle, pouring Mountain Dew in one with Ask Me About My Nuts spelled out in bolts and screws and your soda in one with a three-dimensional pair of breasts jutting out from the body.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups,” he says sheepishly, likely referring to any container that didn’t allude to body parts. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.” 

Eddie sets the drinks down on the snack table, careful not to spill on your notebook. “Okay, pretty girl. C’mere.” He places a throw pillow on his lap and pats it, signaling that it’s time for you to assume the prime cuddling position. 

As soon as you rest your head, his hand finds its home on your upper arm. His thumb, calloused but gentle, makes gentle strokes that have both of your hearts beating slowly and in sync.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

You roll over so you can see the stubble that’s starting to prickle along his cheeks, jawline, and under his chin. “You forgot about the movie. And the snacks.”

He groans, using his free palm to rub his nose in frustration. It’s one of the cutest habits he has, and part of you always wonders if he does it just to make you smile. 

“‘M too comfy to move,” he grumbles, peering down at you with a guilty expression. 

“Me, too,” you agree. “But…snacks.”

Eddie chuckles, stretching to grab something from his side of the sofa. “We’ve got this,” he says as he procures a half-eaten can of vanilla frosting. “I swear I just opened it last night. And we can just talk until we fall asleep, like we did when we first started dating.”

The memory floods your body with warmth. Even before the two of you became a couple, when you and Eddie were only friends, you would often stay up on the phone until your consciousness gave way. No conversation topic was off-limits; on one night when he’d been more than a bit tipsy, he’d divulged some of his more…private preferences. 

“So she spit in your mouth?”

“Mhm.”

“And you like that?” 

“Abso-fuckin-lutely, Sweetheart.”

Neither of you know where tonight will take you. Maybe you’ll become a familiar tangle of limbs, trading sloppy kisses and murmured sweet nothings. Maybe the sugar from the frosting will rejuvenate one of you enough to actually put the VHS in the player. Maybe you’ll just soak in each other’s softness, letting comfort envelop you until your eyelids become too heavy to keep up.

Wherever you go, you and Eddie will get there together.

--

[alectothinker]

the unwanted guest reference compilation (revised, thank u tltblr!) (scroll down for additions)

every day i thank tamsyn muir for her planet sized brain (and the new short story). will be quoting heavily from TUG so spoilers under the cut!

woo this is a long one. (will probably miss stuff, im a non-western zoomer) 

References are in the order that they appear in TUG ->

Pal’s mask being a reference to his shattered and glued-back-together skull:

“This is PALAMEDES SEXTUS, whose mask is distinguished by being plain, of shattered wood clumsily taped or glued back together.” (page 480)

Pain (slight pain) (jk. pretty good amount of pain)

2. An Inspector Calls by JB Priestly: 

“IANTHE Oh — Inspector. How terribly good of you to call so late.” (page 483)

Ok there are so many other parallels to AIC in this story (the setting, the stage play format, overall message) and I’ve written briefly about it here

3. This better not awaken anything in me [original clip from community thank u @what3ver]

“[Ianthe gayly describing infinite strip poker with harrow] Yuck. I hope that hasn’t awakened anything in me.” (p492) 

(she’s tucking the image away in her mind palace as we speak)

4. Ace attorney (i LAUGHED)

"Palamedes slams both hands down flat on the lid of the upper coffin, then thrusts his arm out to point an accusing finger at Ianthe. PALAMEDES you're avoiding the question!” (p493) 

Insert ace attorney OBJECTION dot gif here 

5. and right after ace attorney, Monty Python:

“IANTHE No. It's a fair cop, guv'nor. But, in this instance, society really is to blame.” (p493)

Probably a reference to Monty Python's Flying Circus, "Church Police". Quote taken from tvtropes: 

Man: All right, it's a fair cop, but society's to blame. Church Policeman: Right, we'll arrest them instead.

6. Looney tunes: 

“IANTHE (Brightly) That’s all, folks! Back after the break.” (p495)

Here’s a clip of porky pig saying it bc why not: That's All Folks HD

7. Hamlet

“VOICE ‘Use every man after his desert, and who should ‘scape whipping?’” (p500)

Original quote:

“Use every man according to his desert and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity, the less they deserve ... the more merit in your bounty.”

notes: very hot of dulcie to know shakespeare

8. Haters meme (?)

does this even count as a meme at this point. Idk but i love that dulcie said it. 

“VOICE Truly, wonderful news for my haters.” (p501)

9. The bible (ofc)

“PALAMEDES (as if reciting) ‘And her body was like the chrysolite, and her face as the appearance of lighting, and her eyes as a burning lamp; and her arms, and all downward to the feet, like in appearance to glittering brass.’” (p502)

Palamedes quotes Daniel 10:6 when Dulcie reveals (?) herself to him. I'm not super familiar with the bible, but depending on dif sources from google (lol), the original quote describes either Christ or the angel Gabriel appearing to Daniel:

"And his body was like the chrysolite, and his face as the appearance of lightning, and his eyes as a burning lamp: and his arms, and all downward even to the feet, like in appearance to glittering brass: and the voice of his word like the voice of a multitude." (from the Douay-Rheims Bible)

ok finally stuff that might be a reference but I havent been able to figure out a lot has been figured out! additions from tltblr here:

p481 

> probably nothing, but any significance re pal’s calling card being the skeleton hand?  probably a reference to the skele hand harrow made him in htn (via @guyrunsbackwards)

p482

The Almond Room?? Is this anything. It seems so weirdly specific lol

 “IANTHE the master will see you in the Almond Room, sir.”

crowdsourced possibilities:

the almond room representing babs' borrowed amygdala, which is involved in processing memory, decision making, and emotional response; would make sense for the investigation/interrogation to take place here (via @confusedbyinterface)

may be a reference to the game Clue, where the individual rooms in which the mystery happens have specific names (via @the-light-of-stars);

a reference to cyanide, which smells like almonds (@the-light-of-stars, @satans-poptarts); + @winged mentioned that in a lot of early 20th century whodunnits, someone has a revelation about the real conclusion when they smell almond somewhere it shouldn't be (vs pal and ianthe having their revelations about babs' soul in the almond room)

p487

"IANTHE False things have a piquancy which the real can never match.  PALAMEDES     is that from something? IANTHE      Everything's from something.”

• ianthe is this actually from something. google yielded no straightforward results :(

p503

"IANTHE You look to me like a small boy holding a tail when he doesn’t even know where the donkey is.”

Nothing in particular just the image of tiny pal playing pin the tail on the donkey is so. He’s baby. Also he probably found a way to be very good at it via psychometry lol

@mayasaura: Under the circumstances, the donkey thing also reminded me of Buddhist parable of the blind men and the elephant, about the limits of perception in understanding the true nature of being. Or, to quote Wikipedia: "The moral of the parable is that humans have a tendency to claim absolute truth based on their limited, subjective experience" <- ianthe turbo roasting pal, love to see it

Miscellaneous / theatre techniques:

> What's up with the coffins?

@tangelotime: the coffins might be a black box theater technique, using boxes to represent certain settings rather than faithfully recreating them on the stage; @the-light-of-stars mentioned that the arrangement of the coffins depends on Pal's questions:

first he asks a philosophical question thus the arrangement in the style of a greek symposion - their style of dialogue also is in reference to Plato's work 'Symposion', as well as Ianthe offering Pal wine and the servants placing velvet cushions. The next question is about Babs' murder thus arrangement in style of a courtroom. Then a question about Gideon, the cavalier, thus arrangement in the style of a fencing ring. The last arrangement follow a question about Ianthe's motives for Corona and they are playing cards- both a classic trope symbolizing a battle of wits and a metaphor for Ianthe holding secrets (cards) that she has to reveal one by one (via @the-light-of-stars)

@transbutchbluess, @gwydionmisha also ID'd the greek symposium scene as a parody of a socratic/platonic dialogue, which "presents a discussion of moral and philosophical problems between two or more individuals illustrating the application of the Socratic method." (via wikipedia)

> continuing with the theme of theatre, @valence-positive also mentioned that the servants thumping the coffins at the same time after each question may be a theatre technique to underscore Pal's question; @winged made the connection to bells/gavels/gongs, which are often used for judgement (which occurs during the discussion of Babs' murder and Ianthe's intent/endgame.)

the coffin thumping might also be a reference to the bell toll in A Christmas Carol (via @winged again, you have a huge brain); it's also implied that Pal's visits parallel the three ghosts who visit Scrooge and induce a moral awakening:

"IANTHE Five minutes to midnight, I'd say. You can't last much longer, and we both know it. PAL You said that three visits ago." (p483)

vs the original novella by Charles Dickens (taken from sparknotes again):

“You (scrooge) will be haunted… by Three Spirits… Without their visits,” said the Ghost, “you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls One…. “Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third, upon the next night when the last stroke of Twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!”

Pal makes Ianthe realise that Babs' soul has been slowly fusing with hers all along, which is similar what the third ghost does in ACC:

"The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come leads Scrooge through a sequence of mysterious scenes relating to an unnamed man's recent death...Scrooge, anxious to learn the lesson of his latest visitor, begs to know the name of the dead man. After pleading with the ghost, Scrooge finds himself in a churchyard, the spirit pointing to a grave. Scrooge looks at the headstone and is shocked to read his own name."

Finally, like other references in TUG (An Inspector Calls, Dulcie's Hamlet quote), A Christmas Carol criticises the treatment of a disadvantaged class. AIC and ACC both end with the characters faced with the morality of their actions. (intertextuality! delicious)

I also thought the thumping was similar to the synchronisation thing we see in ntn:

"[Ianthe] flounced up the dais, threw herself back into her chair—the dead bodies jerked their left hips convulsively, all in unison" (Nona the Ninth, p335)

Ok that’s it thank u for reading the whole thing ???? And thank you so much for contributing guys! Feel free to leave a reply or dm me if you have any additions <3

[blueywrites]

The Riddles Three

eddie munson x reader, smeagol!eddie (4k)

18+ for smut. praise kink, use of 'sir,' teasing, cockwarming, copious pet names, dnd names, no y/n, eddie is a menace, eddie fucks you while roleplaying, equal parts horny and absurd.

this came about because of a shared tiktok and a group text spiral, so enjoy this absolutely ridiculous smutty thing that was supposed to be a blurb but ended up being 4k. whoops!

thanks to @fracturedarkness, @abibliophobiaa, and @breddiemunson for the convo that began this, and a special thanks to @myosotisa for some killer dnd lines and riddles in here, and for being so repulsed by the idea of Eddie using this voice that I had to write about it.

also it's 1am and I didn't fully edit this, so oh well 🐲

Eddie Munson has never been anything less than himself. This is a man whose presence atop cafeteria tables barely turns heads anymore unless he starts truly yelling. He revels in the reactions he receives when he flashes crazy eyes and devil horns and lolls his broad tongue menacingly at classmates, deserving and undeserving alike. He has some obscure metal reference at the ready in every conversation because he can always find a way to connect it to what at least one person is saying. He’s got entire sections of the film Monty Python and the Holy Grail memorized; sometimes he backs you up against his locker, plush lips skimming your ear as he whispers, ‘How could a five-ounce bird possibly carry a one-pound coconut?,’ and other times study hall will be utterly silent until you hear him muttering under his breath, ‘I fart in your general direction.’ He also has an Alf costume in his closet, though he’s never been Alf for Halloween, as far as you know. Eddie Munson is always himself, and what he is is a fuckin’ weirdo. 

You knew this. And yet somehow, it still comes as a surprise that, as his broad hands span your hips, ruddy fingers digging into your soft flesh while his cockhead finally pops inside as you begin to lower down onto him, your blissful moan is overpowered by the most ridiculous groan you’ve ever heard pass from Eddie’s lips. It’s a croak, pushed up high in the back of his throat, nasally and raspy and so disturbingly unmistakable that your face puckers up in disgust. Eddie’s filling your hole so deliciously, just as he always does— the stretch of his thick cock is hot and tight as he guides you down onto him, slowly splitting you open inch by inch— but you can’t even enjoy it. Because his wild curls are splayed against his pillow, his beautiful eyes are closed in bliss, and his moan just sounded like Smeagol from Lord of the Rings.

 You think maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe you were just so overwhelmed by Eddie’s cock sinking into your pussy that it scrambled your brains, and you merely imagined that your boyfriend moaned like Smeagol. But when you fall flush with his pelvis and he finally bullies up against the end of you, making you whimper despite yourself, the breathy sigh he releases is still far too nasally for comfort.

“Eddie,” you say with a hint of cautious warning, though your voice catches as he starts to move your hips in a circle, pressing insistently with his warm calloused palms to guide you in grinding your clit against his public hair. You can’t help but bite your lip as the feeling sparks pleasure that throbs low in your pussy, and you brace your hands against his chest as your brain blanks and you lean forward. His eyes blink open lazily, his plush lips crooking with a satisfied grin, and you hum your satisfaction as you let him move you on his cock. 

And then he starts talking.

“Our precious is soooooo nice to us,” he says, nasally and high, his contented expression unchanging though you stiffen up immediately. He keeps moving your hips, though it’s not so fluid anymore, quite staccato, really, as you aren’t helping him whatsoever. “So tights,” he continues, ignoring your indignant eyes. “So warms. Don't we love it when we sinks inside?" 

“Eddie, please—” It comes out more like a whine than you’d intended as you thump your fists petulantly against his chest, but maybe you can win him over with honey instead of vinegar. “Please don’t do the Smeagol voice again.” 

You put on your best pout: poking out your bottom lip, softening your eyes, making them go big and beggy. You uncurl your fingers, scratching them lightly down his abdomen in that way you know he loves, and when he shivers and doesn’t reply, you think maybe you’ve won him over. But then he answers himself, sounding thoroughly delighted, pitching his voice lower and more hoarse though still absurdly nasally. “Ohhhh, yes. We love being insides our precious.”

It’s not just Smeagol this time. He’s being Gollum, too. 

You sag with dismay, watching Eddie’s teeth drag against his bottom lip, how his eyes drink you in, roving over your curves in that way that always makes you feel beautiful. The sight of his desire for you is undeniably tempting, as is how he slides his hands back to palm the fat of your ass, kneading your flesh firmly. And his cock is still hard inside you— harder, even, now that he’s teasing you because you know he loves to make you squirm. Despite the way that voice gives you the ick, you decide that maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe you can endure it after all for the sake of your own gratification. And as you start to move, pressing Eddie up against your front wall as you lift up and drop back down onto him, the pleasure does start to build— the flame of your arousal, stoked faithfully by the feeling of his cock in your cunt and his hair against your clit and his pretty face beneath you. 

But Eddie can’t help himself. Smugly, he says, “See? Precious likes it whens we talks to her so nice as she bounces on our fat cocks. You like our cocks inside you, precious?”

Despite the disgust that shivers down your spine at the sound of that ridiculous voice, you can’t deny how Eddie’s words affect you: you pulse around him, pleasure thrumming within you. It makes you lift a little higher to drop down harder against his hips with fleshy smacks. Your dismay at Eddie using that voice has transformed to dismay at yourself as you finally resort to bargaining, brow crumpling as you plead, “Can you at least not put the s’s at the end?”

The smugness drops from Eddie’s face and his fingers still on your ass. The ridiculous voice is gone, but it isn’t a consolation when he sounds so serious. “Baby,” he admonishes, “I have to stay authentic to the character. I can’t just neuter Smeagol and Gollum like that. It would be an insult to Tolkien.” He shakes his head at you as if disappointed, as if you’re the one in the wrong here.

Your hackles raise a bit at that; your eyes narrow, hands planting on your hips as you kneel tall over him. “You act as though it’s an unreasonable request for me to not wanna get fucked by that stringy-haired, raw-fish-eating, brother-murdering gremlin.”

The fact that you’re able to recall so many details about the character off the cuff seems to mollify Eddie. His thumbs trace a soothing pattern against your ribs as he draws his hands lightly up your sides until you soften for him. “Look, babe,” he says, almost sympathetically, “I know what you want.” One hand cups the heft of your breast while the other trails low, stroking lightly across your mound, tickling the skin there. “And if you want me to make you cum so many times my cock turns you stupid, you gotta let me do it as Smeagol and Gollum. I don’t make the rules.”

You scowl. “You very literally do make the rules—” Your grumble cuts off as a sudden idea lights your eyes. “Let me roll for it.”

Eddie’s head tilts in interest, frizzly curls rasping against the pillow, wide dark eyes lighting to match the sudden enthusiasm in yours. He’s intrigued enough to continue speaking to you normally. “Roll for what, princess?”

“Roll for persuasion,” you answer instantly. “To see if I can convince you not to do the voice anymore.” 

Eddie purses his lips, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he deliberates. You rock your hips slightly in an effort to entice him, though you more end up just teasing yourself as your walls hug him tight. Finally, those plush lips stretch in a smirk. “I’ll allow it,” he purrs, adopting the deep smoke of his Dungeon Master voice. This voice makes you shudder for an altogether different reason, and his eyes darken as he sees your nipples tighten. “Dice are in the drawer, Ohazia,” he adds, addressing you by your character name. 

You make to lift off him, but Eddie’s arm quickly wraps around the small of your back as he leans up, bracing a palm behind him, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive skin between your breasts. “Ah, ah,” he admonishes, voice still a purr. “Where do you think you’re going, sweet girl?”

You scrape your teeth against your bottom lip as Eddie’s curls tickle your breasts, and his brown eyes shine with mischief as he turns his head to mouth at the left one. The moist heat of his breath makes your voice waver. “T-to get the dice.” 

You feel Eddie’s lips skim against your skin briefly before he says, “We’ll go together.”

Well, going together apparently means awkwardly shimmying across the bed until you’re close enough to reach the bedside drawer with him still buried balls-deep in your cunt. You root around, first pulling out a d12 and second, to your chagrin, a shiny rock Eddie had found in the woods one time before finally landing on the d20 on your third attempt. Eddie keeps firm hold on your hips to ensure you don’t fall off the bed and break his dick, and you clumsily push off the nightstand to get yourself upright again, disturbing the pile of books already precariously balanced beside the lamp.

There’s a long series of thumps and flutters as they fall, and you both blink at the mess before Eddie says, “I’ll clean that up—”

“Never,” you interrupt, pursing your lips against a smirk as he squints up at you flatly. You shake the d20 between your palms, rolling it in the concave space between his belly button and ribs and cupping your hand over it before he can see. “I know you, Munson. You’ve never voluntarily cleaned your room in your life.”

He ignores your ribbing. “What’d you roll?”

You tilt your hand to peek, gaze flashing between the dice and Eddie’s face. Begrudgingly, you admit, “Thirteen.”

Eddie’s brown eyes sparkle as he looks up at you. “And remind me what your charisma modifier is again.”

“It’s plus two.”

The quirk of Eddie’s brow is subtle but noticeable. “Are you sure?”

Your tone is dangerously even. “…be very careful what you say next, Edward.”

Eddie’s eyes widen as you stare down at him, and his palms tap nervously against your hips before rubbing briskly. “Well,” he says quickly, “you had to meet or beat a fifteen, so…” He sighs resignedly, nearly pouting up at you. “Unfortunately, you have successfully persuaded me not to speak in the Smeagol voice.”

A pleased smile spreads across your lips, your eyes deepening to half-lidded. “Is that so?” you ask, rolling your hips for the first time in a long while. You hear Eddie’s breath catch, your smile widening as his adam’s apple bobs in a thick swallow. “You gonna fuck me stupid now, like you promised?” You grind on him again, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you feel him pulse inside you. With your victory now secured, the embers of your arousal are quick to catch again, reigniting with each roll of your puffy clit against his pubic bone. It even makes you feel playful as you slide your hands up Eddie’s chest to his shoulders, laying yourself flat along his body to relish the heat of his soft skin and the rasp of his sparse chest hair against your nipples. Eddie’s hips tilt to accommodate you, and you thread your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, making him hum. Eddie’s expression is lax, eyes deep and hazy as he watches you, letting you play with him as you swipe along his plush lips with the tip of your tongue before cooing, “Oh, Kaxes the Generous. My faithful bard.”

The broad, manic grin that crinkles the corners of Eddie’s suddenly gleaming eyes makes your pleased smile fall. “What?” you ask baldly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie’s calloused palms meander across your back, stroking slowly and soothingly. Well, it would be soothing if it wasn’t for the wicked expression on his face. “Oh, my dear Ohazia,” he says, mimicking your coo. “Didn’t you notice the gulf between us, able to be crossed only by the single rope bridge? And in order to reach Kaxes the Generous, you must make it past the bridge troll.”

Eddie’s broad grin never falters, even as you groan and slap his shoulders, using them to push upright and glare down at him again. “Seriously?”

Unbothered, Eddie’s hands fall again to your hips. “The bridge troll is very obstinate, princess.” You try to maintain your scowl even when one draws slowly from your hip to your mound, his thick thumb trailing down past your curls to the crease below them. “If you want to cross the bridge, you’ll need to answer his riddles three.” Despite yourself, you tilt your hips back to allow him access to you, and Eddie’s cheek dimples as he presses his thumb tighter. “And if you correctly answer his riddles three…” Slowly, as he speaks, he drags it down to your clit; the pressure sparks like bright fire, making your breath deepen. “Then he’ll let you pass.”

You try to cant your hips into his touch, to seek more of that delicious fire, but Eddie’s other hand squeezes at your hip to keep you still. He withdraws his thumb, grasping both of your hips tightly to hold you in place. “Don’t be naughty, Ohazia,” he purrs, and you gasp as he rolls up into you, pressing his thick cock deeper inside. “Naughty girls don’t get to cum.”

You whimper, stilling in his hold. Though you know Eddie is desperate to fuck into you hard and fast, you also know he will edge you until you’re sobbing if you defy him, and you’re far too needy for that right now. “Can I have the first riddle, sir?” you ask, soft and sweet, and you feel him pulse again as you obey him.

“Hm,” Eddie purrs, squeezing your ass as a reward for your obeisance. “I am the beginning of the end, and the end of before. What am I?”

You purse your lips in thought for only a moment before brightening. “The letter ‘e’,” you tell him confidently.

Eddie’s smile is genuine, turning his eyes a bright amber. “Correct,” he tells you. “What breathes, consumes, and grows, but was and never will be alive?”

This one gives you more pause, and in the interim, Eddie murmurs, “Don’t move your hips, okay, sweet girl?” You nod absently, eyes flicking to the ceiling as his hands trail up your sides again to cup your breasts. ‘What breathes, consumes, and grows, but was and never will be alive?’ A breathy hum slips from your lips as he squeezes them softly, then drags his calloused thumbs over your nipples, but you don’t react until he pinches those hardened peaks between his fingers, rolling firmly. 

Pleasure sparks straight to your cunt, and Eddie chuckles when you clench on him reflexively. “No fair,” you gasp, whimpering as you glance down and see the wolfish grin on your boyfriend’s face. “You can’t distract me like that. You know I can’t think when you play with my nipples.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding entirely unrepentant. Mercifully, the answer finally comes to you then.

“Fire,” you say, and the delight in Eddie’s face makes warmth rush through your body. 

“Very good, princess,” he praises you, releasing your nipples immediately. You sigh in relief as he cups your cheek, nuzzling into his calloused palm which easily spans the side of your face. The approval turns his deep voice to silk. “Goood girl. You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”

You whine, brow pinching as you swipe at his thumb with your wet pink tongue, wordlessly coaxing him. “One more,” he promises you. “Just one more, baby. You can do it.” Eddie’s thumb drags down your bottom lip, and as he watches it spring back, you notice then the heaving of his chest; the way his pupils have almost entirely swallowed the brown of his eyes; the sudden hoarseness in his voice. He’s just barely holding on, and the realization of his fraying restraint excites you, sending a shiver of pleasure straight down your spine. 

Eddie gives you the final riddle. “Walk on the living, they don't even mumble. Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble.” His dark, hazy eyes pierce you, his voice a deep rumble in his chest you can feel in your cunt. “What are they, sweetheart?”

The final riddle rhymes. It’s practically sing-songy, making it feel positively childish. But your brain is starting to go fuzzy as Eddie’s hot hand lands on your thigh, rhythmically kneading the soft fat there in a gesture that belies his growing impatience. You try to ignore it, but the knowledge that you’re so close, so close, to having Eddie pound your pussy ‘til you scream has the answer slipping farther away the longer you try to grasp for it. It doesn’t help that Eddie’s thumb is still playing with your bottom lip, either, rasping against the plump flesh as you try to think. Your nose scrunches up with the effort, and your cute little groan of consternation is muffled as Eddie finally slips his thick thumb past your lips and into the wet heat of your mouth. Your groan cuts off in a whimper as he presses it against your tongue, and your breasts begin to rise and fall with your breath as he pulls it out before pushing back in, slowly fucking your mouth with his thumb. You wonder briefly why Eddie is teasing you like this knowing that it will likely only delay your answer, but the hunger in his expression tells you all you need to know.

“Mmm,” you whine, cheeks pinking as you abandon his character name to plead around his thumb. “Eddie,” you beg, and his jaw tenses, his breath going suddenly ragged at the sound of his name so pathetic on your lips. “Eddie, please. I don’t know—”

“Leaves,” he rasps, harsh and intent. “Leaves, just say leaves.”

Your blood rushes hot with arousal and relief at the knowledge of what’s about to happen. “Leaves,” you moan, and instantly, Eddie’s ripping his thumb from your mouth and wrapping his arms around your middle to wrench you over. He flips you while still buried inside, muscles tense and quivering as you gasp, disoriented for only a moment as your back hits the mattress before he’s stuffing you full and fucking you furiously. 

Eddie loses all semblance of restraint, his cock bullying your cunt as you writhe and squirm beneath him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He’d been teasing your flames for so long that the feeling of him finally fucking you makes them grow instantly to a crackling wildfire, consuming you entirely. You aren’t in control any more as your lips open wide, voicing your contentment in helpless whines and desperate whimpers and wild moans as your spine arches in toe-curling pleasure. Your sounds spill against Eddie’s curls as your nails dig into the meat of his back; he babbles his own pleasure into the juncture of your neck, hips snapping almost animalistically against your thighs in great, fleshy smacks that pound and pound and pound without relenting. “Goddamn, baby, so loud f’me, feel so good, oh shit, oh shit, fuckfuckfuck—” 

Eddie isn’t even really pulling out now, just barely an inch before pushing hard and fast into your aching pussy, grinding against that spot inside that makes you see stars. You feel your orgasm begin to surge up from the bottom of you, crackling in the pit of your belly as your moans turn more breathy and desperate. “Oh, Eddie,” you keen, burying your fingers in his curls as the pleasure begins to peak, “Eddie, Eddie—”

“Precious wants my cum, doesn’t she?” Eddie rasps, nasally and high, a throaty exclamation of sheer and utter glee. “She’s greedy, our precious. Wants us to fill her up—”

“Fuck!”  Your scream is ecstacy as your eyes roll back and you cum harder than you ever have before. 

Your body thrums with sparkling fire that rushes red hot along every nerve, and instantly, everything squeezes impossibly tight. Your thighs lock against Eddie’s hips, and your back bows, and your fingers tighten into fists in his frizzy curls, making him grunt as you tug on his hair. Eddie’s hips rut desperately against you twice more before he bites down at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, groaning into your skin as his cock jerks wildly inside you, doing just what he’d said and filling you with his cum. The sting of his teeth and the warmth flooding your cunt only make you quiver more, body squirming where you’re pinned beneath his heavy weight, gasping little incoherent sounds of pleasure into the humid air of Eddie’s bedroom. 

Your orgasm washes over you in waves of bliss until your tense muscles finally relax. Trembling, you lay limp beneath Eddie, brain entirely blank aside from registering the quick tattoo of his heart and his belly pressing into yours in great heaving gasps as he pants against your neck. You hum absently as he nuzzles your damp skin with his nose, kissing you tenderly against the stinging bite he’d left at the base. The sound is just a reflex; you have, indeed, been rendered utterly stupid by his cock. 

That is, until Eddie starts to giggle. 

The husky sound brings you back to yourself, and you pet back Eddie’s mess of curls and hold his cheeks to see him better. You frown when you see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

The look on your face does nothing to quell his mirth. Your frown deepens when Eddie dissolves into uncontrollable laughter, wrenching from your grasp to bury his face between your breasts, wildly unrestrained in his hysterics. When his voice breaks like a prepubescent child and it only makes him laugh harder, you decide enough is enough.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” You hiss, shaking his shoulders until his face finally pops up from where it’s nestled in your breasts. It’s bright pink now, with a vein bulging in his forehead that would nearly make you worried if it wasn’t for the suspicion that he’s laughing at your expense. “What’s so funny?”

You turn as pink as he is when he finally collects himself enough to say, “I can’t believe my Smeagol voice made you cum that hard.” His cheeks puff as he tries to hold back another snicker, but it just grinds out from his nose until he collapses against you again, curls tickling your breasts.

You sputter with outrage at both the humiliation and the betrayal. “Fuck you, Edward! I can’t believe you still used the voice after I passed my persuasion check.”

Though he doesn’t lift his head, Eddie’s hand snakes up to cup the back of your neck, kneading softly in an attempt to settle your ire. You’re outraged to find that it works, and even moreso when he lifts up on an elbow to hover over your face and whisper, “I didn’t hear you complaining when you were making a mess of my sheets, love.”

Eddie smiles manically, pinching your cheeks and meeting your outraged pout with a firm kiss. When he pulls away, pressing one last dramatic smacking kiss to your cheek, you soften despite your grumbles. Because Eddie Munson is always himself: a fuckin’ weirdo. 

And that’s why you love him.

ask💌 | kofi🌼 | masterlist🌱

[noneorother]

Share your GOS2 bibliography with me

How crazy is it that season 2 has basically forced me to go back to university. I’ve done more reading and critical analysis and historical research than I have in years. I bite my thumb at you, Neil (affectionate).

And as I’m sure I’m not alone in this, I’d love to see your bibliography of all of the references or reading/watch lists. I’m sure to pick up a few good ones! I’ll go first.

Movies + TV Arrival - Denis Villeneuve Clue - Jonathan Lynn I Know Where I'm Going - Powell & Pressburger The Ball - Magnus Dennison and Katja Roberts Every Day - Michael Sucsy About Time - Richard Curtis The Red Shoes - Powell & Pressburger The Small Back Room - Powell & Pressburger The Tales of Hoffmann - Powell & Pressburger Stairway to Heaven - Powell & Pressburger Ill Met By Moonlight - Powell & Pressburger The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse - Steve Bendelack Monty Python's Life of Brian - Terry Jones Monty Python and the Holy Grail - Terry Gilliam & Terry Jones The Twilight zone (The Arrival) Boris Sagal The Twilight zone (The Hitch-Hiker) - Alvin Ganzer Staged (Seasons 1 and 2) - Simon Evans & Phin Glynn Books The Crow Road - Iain Banks The Bridge - Iain Banks The Scholars of Night - John M. Ford Symbols of Sacred Science - René Guénon Catch-22 - Joseph Heller A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens The Colour of Magic - Terry Pratchett Night Watch (Discworld) - Terry Pratchett Parlement of Foules - Geoffrey Chaucer The language of the birds - Farid ud-Din Attar Pride & Prejudice - Jane Austen Persuasion - Jane Austen Midnight Days - Neil Gaiman Negative Burn #11 - Neil Gaiman Chivalry - Neil Gaiman Other Les contes d'Hoffamann - opera, Jacques Offenbach Don Giovanni - opera, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart The Line, the Cross and the Curve - musical, Kate Bush The book of Enoch - Ethiopian Apocryphal trs. Rev. George Schodde, PhD

I'm sure there will be more... sigh. Spoiler alert: there are more! Donnie Darko - 2001, Richard Kelly Nothing Lasts Forever - 1984, Tom Schiller The Ghosts of Berkley Square - 1947, Vernon Sewell Brazil! - 1985, Terry Gilliam No Bed for Bacon - 1941, Caryl Brahms and S. J. Simon Don't, Mr Disraeli! - 1949, Caryl Brahms and S. J. Simon Murder Mysteries - Neil Gaiman The Man Who Was Thursday - 1908, GK Chesterton Small Gods - 1992, Terry Pratchett Ipomadon - Medieval - Trs. Richard Scott-Robinson

[writergeekrhw]

Hi Robert, may I ask you about the references in DS9? Not the Shakespeare ones, those are quite common in the Trek universe but others that may not necessarily relate to the plot. Like in 'Paradise Lost', when O'Brien and Bashir tell direct quotes from a lesser-known Monty Python sketch, or in the same episode, Sisko is reading his friends' names from a manifest which are all characters in Catch-22 (one of the greatest books ever written btw). Have these been added for fun or to pay respect? (My guess is both.) Were there any copyright issues because of these (except for the James Bond thing)?

Also, very important :-) where did the chicken paprikash come from? It even looks perfectly authentic on screen - other than no one would eat it with the salad Sisko is making, it's usually served with a special kind of pasta due to its thick and rich sour cream based sauce. In the early 90's, you couldn't just type it into Google to find a million recipes. Was there maybe a Hungarian cook in the crew you took the inspiration/idea from?

Thank you!

REFERENCES:

You're right, those were done both out of respect and as a bit of fun. Like the names in "Past Tense" or "Little Green Men." We never got any pushback from legal that I know of.

CHICKEN PAPRIKASH

My summer job in college was working at Ghirardelli Square at home in San Francisco, and when I was there, there was a Hungarian restaurant on the top floor called Paprikás Fonó. I'd eat lunch there sometimes and their chicken paprikash was AMAZING. I have no idea why props decided to serve it with salad instead of nokedli. Madness.

[drconstellation]

Portable People

Muriel: "Can I...Can I take a book with me? I was looking at one earlier. They're like people, only portable." S2E6

Crowley's yeeting them around while stress-cleaning the bookshop, Jimbriel is trying to sell them to the investigating archangels, and Muriel just wants to read them all. Should we give a second thought to any of these books?

Er, yes. Yes, we should, I say.

In Crowley's case, both times he tosses the books aside (both in S2E3) it is adjacent to a conversation about memory.

In the first one he remarks to Jim that he doesn't remember why "they" invented gravity. He tosses the books - records of the past, records of (human) knowledge - then moves right back into the present, observing Rodney the Stunt Fly with Jim and then describing his Operation Lovebirds plan to him.

The same with the second GIF - Crowley has to make a decision between answering the phone (which is Aziraphale calling from Edinburgh) or the books. The present wins again, and he has the phone conversation with Aziraphale.

Crowley: Pffft. Humans. You don't let yourself get too attached. Aziraphale: No. No, I suppose not. Um… You haven't actually been selling any of the books, have you?

While we get the impression of Crowley not wanting to hang on to the past, as if its something that's hurt him before and he doesn't want to repeat that, on the other hand Aziraphale was having a lovely time remembering Mr Dalrymple the Scottish surgeon from 1826. This from an angel who hates getting rid of memories books, and we learn keeps a diary! Hmm.

I suppose the question is, is it a real memory problem on Crowley's side or an affected one to get around certain...awkwardness to do with his history? Such as not remembering working with Saraqael or fighting next to Furfur before the Fall?

Jimbriel, on the other hand, is more like Muriel. He is having a wonderful time discovering the delights of Humanity in the bookshop for the first time and is sooo excited to show it to the archangels when they arrive on Aziraphale's doorstep!

[btw, do you notice which side Jimbriel is standing on here? Its actually interesting to pay attention to which shoulder-side he is on in S2, because he is rarely on the left - even in S1, as well]

So while Aziraphale tries to, um, explain what humans do, Jimbriel "fans" one in Saraqael's face and then tries to (horror!) kill Rodney the Stunt fly with the Wicked Bible - the one with the printing error that says "You Shall Commit Adultery." *ahem* (not looking at you Jimbriel, oh no, not all...) Good thing it never works, Jimbriel declares, as the dust flies dramatically.

Edit: This book-banging episode is also a Monty Python reference! I found out over in my Assistant Bookseller meta that Jim's Fair Isle's style vest is a nod the Gumby characters, who all wear that style of vest and have the catchphrase "My brain hurts!" They also bang bricks together occasionally. *sigh* The things you didn't expect to find...Gabriel the Gumby...

The angels take no notice of Jim's antics. Since when do they take any notice of what goes on with humans, anyway? Oh, yes, they are going to keep a close eye on Aziraphale, but some idiotic human - nah! Don't care!

Then there's this travesty:

Aaah! The horror! Aziraphale reluctantly lets Maggie and Nina throw the books of human knowledge at the demons. But that doesn't work in the long run. Only the angel himself can solve this crisis.

[whitegoldtower]

I desperately want to learn how to mod so I can make some of my OCs custom voiced followers 😭😭😭

Specifically Gwalchmai. I could even voice him myself like— but I don’t even know where to start

If I did make him as a custom follower I’d also DESPERATELY want to have him be compatible with Taliesin or at least comment on his presence

“What is on my mind? Your friend, Taliesin. Mysterious, sharp as his dagger… We have much in common, he and I. At the very least, I share his appreciation of the humble apple.”

I’d want him to comment on Caryalind and Nebarra too.

“Caryalind Thallery, in the flesh. Beautiful, isn’t he? Would that he had the same bigoted mindset as his family, just that face would launch a thousand ships. I would kill for him. I would die for him.”

“Nebarra. Such a self-deprecating title for one so proud. Although… his voice reminds me of an altmer nobleman I once had the pleasure of indulging. The… Black Asp, I think his pseudonym was? Very cunning man. Very cunning indeed. Always had a cunning plan.”

AND HE’D 100% DROP MONTY PYTHON REFERENCES

“He’s not the Dragonborn, he’s a very naughty boy.” (When Jarl Balgruuf says, “We are honoured to have you as Thane of our City, Dragonborn.”)

“Oh, you lucky bastard.” (After defeating Miraak)

He would also sing a little elvish (welsh) lullaby to YC at their home if asked

He’d also do the most unhinged imitation of Vingalmo at Castle Volkihar (spoiler: he WANTS Vingalmo so bad)

“Orthjolf claims to serve, but really he’s a flop.” 💅

Moreover, he’d run into combat laughing. If I could make him run with the same cursed sneak-run animation Astarion does in BG3 I 100% would. He’s a vampire, of course he runs teeth first

It’d be really cool if I could give him custom spells too with an initial animation similar to the rage that barbarians can do in BG3