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dreamwavesexploringreality · 3 months ago

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TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE:

(NIGHT IN THE LIBRARY PT3)

Niragi x reader

TW: Violence, Alcohol Consumption, Harassment.

Niragi had not slept well a single night since the encounter with Y/N. All those memories he had kept buried deep in his mind, hidden behind the persona he had created to survive in Borderlands, had surfaced tumultuously.

He no longer knew who he was. Was he truly the violent, threatening man, rifle in hand, whom everyone feared? Or perhaps he was just Niragi Suguru, her Niragi, as she used to say—the man who stayed up late at the library trying to escape his ghosts.

Y/N's arrival in Borderlands had turned his world upside down. Once again. And now he could do nothing but drink late into the night to forget, to forget that she was there, somewhere in that dangerous world, playing deadly games, facing rivals, facing people like him... Or maybe she was already dead. He could never rule out that possibility in Borderlands... and so he drank more. He drank more to forget.

Pool parties until the early hours of the morning, encounters with women his drunk mind mistook for her, shouts and screams from the people he threatened and beat violently simply for being in his way... only amidst that chaos did Niragi seem able to silence the voices in his head, to blur her image in his mind and quiet the fears that gripped his body, sending shivers down his spine. He had lost her.

It was due to all those extracurricular activities that Niragi did not learn of her arrival at The Beach until the following day.

Y/N had been kidnapped, from her perspective, by a group of people who seemed to have been impressed by her in the last game. A diamond four, nothing too fascinating in her view, but those men did not seem willing to let her go once the game was over. They put her in a car, blindfolded and tied her hands “to avoid complications,” they said, and drove what seemed like an eternity to her until they reached an old hotel that stood imposing in the middle of nowhere.

“There’s electricity,” was the first thing she noticed, and the idea of staying in such a place became a bit more appealing. When she also saw the pool in operation, indicating the presence of running water, and the image of a warm shower formed in her mind, she decided that the place couldn’t be that bad.

“Welcome! Welcome to The Beach!” A curious-looking man, who would later refer to himself as The Hatter, greeted her in a room illuminated by the first rays of the morning sun. “I’ve heard about you and couldn’t wait to have you in our ranks!”

Y/N remained silent, assessing the situation. The room was not too crowded—four people beside the Hatter, two by the door, and two others behind her.

“In this utopia we call The Beach, you can enjoy the comforts of a luxurious life... as long as you contribute,” continued The Hatter.

“Contribute how?” Y/N thought, of course, there had to be a catch.

“I don’t ask too much, Y/N, just follow a few basic rules and play all the games assigned to you, returning here with a card for me,” the man said simply, while watching the girl, studying her reaction.

The woman was surprised that this man, whom she had never seen before, knew her name, but she did not show it. She immediately understood that this place was based on a hierarchy where the Hatter was at the top, and that was exactly what he intended to demonstrate with his cheap trick of calling her by name.

“Alright, I agree to stay,” Y/N nodded. The advantages that the place seemed to offer were too tempting to refuse.

“Oh, darling... you don’t have a choice,” The Hatter laughed.

An hour later, the girl had her own room, a swimsuit too sensual in her opinion, and a bracelet with the number 12 around her wrist.

Y/N walked around the room, scrutinizing each corner with suspicion. The first thing she noticed was the impossibility of locking the door. “Security measures,” the white-haired man with the hoodie who had accompanied her to her door had simply said. The next thing that caught her attention was the huge bed occupying more than half of the room, and from that moment on, her body started to act on autopilot, lying down in the plush sheets and surrendering to sleep. That morning, with the sun lighting up the room and the fresh memory of a bloody game just hours before, Y/N slept like she hadn’t in a long time. Perhaps it was the lack of rest in recent days, the nights of solitude and uncertainty, the vivid memory of Niragi in her mind... but that dawn, tangled in those fluffy and cozy sheets, the girl found a peace and serenity she never thought she would experience again.

Time passed unnoticed by Y/N until some screams beyond her window jolted her from her deep sleep. It took her a few minutes to remember where she was as a frustrated sigh escaped her lips, longing for a few more minutes of sleep.

More shouts filtered through the window with the curtains drawn, and Y/N got up heavily from her comfortable paradise, approaching the window and searching for the source of the disturbance. Beyond the glass, a pool party seemed to be taking place, people yelling with joy, enjoying the water and the afternoon sun. There were barely a few hours of daylight left before the moon rose in the sky and night overcame day. “I’ve slept a lot,” the girl told herself. She spent a little more time observing the crowd before deciding to go down. She had never been much of a party person, not even in college. While her peers enjoyed a “wild night,” she preferred the quiet of the library in the company of Niragi... and there it was again, that thought. She quickly discarded it from her mind; she had promised herself never to think of him again. Never again.

Before she knew it, she had blended into the crowd, blending in among drunks and intoxicated people, making her way to the bar. If she was going to stay in this place, she had to adapt to it, as if it was just another of the many games tormenting her in Borderlands. She ordered a drink she recognized as alcoholic and headed to an available lounger near the pool.

“Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Y/N turned towards the voice. A tall woman with braided hair looked at her with curiosity from the lounger beside her, chewing on what seemed like plastic.

“I’m Kuina,” she introduced herself.

“Y/N, nice to meet you, and yes, I arrived today.” Although making friends wasn’t on her list, Y/N couldn’t help but be drawn to the woman’s aura and, upon reflection, it wouldn’t be bad to have an acquaintance in a place like this.

“Well, if you’re new, you must still be in shock… Have you tried the showers yet? They have running water!” Kuina said excitedly.

Y/N smiled. Yes… there was something about that woman that gave her an instinctive trust, a good feeling accompanied by a warmth in her chest as she smiled for the first time in a long time.

The girl was about to respond to Kuina when a sudden silence fell over the pool. The atmosphere became tense, and, without apparent reason, what had been a party was buried under a bitter unease that made her hair stand on end.

“The Militants,” Kuina whispered.

Y/N turned to try to figure out what Kuina was referring to. She saw a group of armed men advancing as if they owned the place, with arrogant and haughty expressions, following a serious-looking man who seemed to be their leader.

“If you want to live peacefully here, don’t mess with them...” Kuina whispered again, still watching the group as they pushed aside those who seemed to bother them with their mere presence.

Y/N watched nervously as the men drew closer to her position. She had faced games, the life beyond the placid comfort of The Beach, but for some reason, the presence of that group sent shivers down her spine. She observed the leader moving forward with a steady gaze. “He looks like a military man,” she thought as she studied his firm and calculated movements, and almost jumped in fright when the man stopped right in front of her, still looking ahead. He turned his head towards her, his body rigid, and she felt his penetrating gaze examine her from head to toe. Y/N made a move to shield herself from his gaze as the man turned to his subordinates, nodding in her direction.

“Bring her to me,” his voice echoed in the silence.

The girl’s heart skipped a beat as she realized the situation she was in, and she quickly felt a hand on her thigh gripping her tightly, as if fearing she might fly away. Kuina had taken on an almost defensive position, holding her in place.

But the leader didn’t even notice; he was watching one of his men intently.

“Didn’t you hear me, Niragi? Bring her to me,” he spat through clenched teeth.

For a brief moment, Y/N thought her mind was tricking her by making her hear that name she had been trying to forget for days, and the next moment, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole as she made eye contact with the man holding the rifle, in a patterned shirt, and facial piercings who had been frozen in place.

Niragi’s world had crumbled once again upon seeing the woman that Aguni seemed to have his eye on. Normally, he had no trouble obeying his leader’s orders with sarcasm and arrogance, but this time, although he wanted to, his feet felt like lead and his legs refused to move. Additionally, his mind was reluctant to comprehend his boss’s words that seemed to be relegated to the background while he stared at the girl in astonishment, not even able to understand how he felt at that moment: Happy? Confused?... no. He was scared, of that he was sure.

“Niragi!” Aguni’s roar seemed to snap him out of his daze, making him aware of his situation as he was observed with curiosity by everyone at the pool. His image was in danger if he didn’t act at that very moment.

He took a step towards Y/N, horrified as the girl trembled at his approach. He didn’t even know what he would do when he was in front of her, he was supposed to grab her and hand her over to his leader, but all he wanted was to hold her in his arms and beg for her forgiveness.

“What’s going on here?” A new voice echoed through the silence and tension of the moment. The Hatter had arrived. Niragi let out a sigh of relief, halting his advance and standing still, watching Y/N, who had slid back on the lounger as if trying to keep the maximum distance between them. He could also see the woman he recognized as Chishiya’s companion holding Y/N’s thigh tightly as if trying to prevent her from being taken.

“Hatter,” Aguni greeted, clearly annoyed.

“You can’t just take people away like that,” The Hatter said as he approached the scene with a hint of mockery in his voice, raising both arms nonchalantly. “I’m in charge here,” he spoke closer to Aguni, with a touch of tension in his voice.

Aguni clenched his jaw, staring at the other man before turning away.

“Let’s go,” he shouted to his men, who quickly started walking behind their leader.

Niragi seemed to hesitate in his movement, his mind maliciously assuring him that he would never see her again if he left at that moment. With his eyes locked on hers intensely, he tried to convey a message of reassurance: “Don’t worry, I’ll come back for you,” but Y/N only saw in his gaze the monster she had seen days earlier in that alley, the monster she was desperately trying to erase from her mind.

The paradise... it was too good to be true.

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The third part of Night in the Library has just been published!

What do you think? Your feedback is much appreciated. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts.

Should I continue with the next part?

#aib x reader #alice in borderland #niragi suguru #aib #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #fanfic #ao3 #arisu ryohei #kuina hikari #niragi alice in borderland #niragi x reader #suguru niragi x reader #niragi suguru x reader

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prolix-yuy · 1 year ago

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A Gift of Light and Joy

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader "Conejita" (Plus Sized Reader)

Summary: Javi wants to spoil you, but his good intentions put you in a difficult position.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), cumming on someone, minor cum play, negative body image, toxic shopping culture, some angst, Javi is clueless about women's clothes shopping but he makes up for it.

Notes: Happiest of happy birthdays to my darling, my sweet friend, the indescribable @ezrasbirdie! I was planning to post this around November but I couldn't pass up a chance to give you a fun little Javi present. I am so lucky to know you and get to yell about stories together!

While in the two previous stories Conejita wasn't described as plus sized, I always headcanoned that she was from the start. There are a couple references to the previous stories, but you can also dive in right here! Like most stories this is me working through a few bad experiences of my own, and while Javi may be a little thick in the beginning he will get to make up for it.

Cross-posted on AO3

Continued from On the Right Flight and A Bearable Weight

“I have a surprise for today.”

Javi’s gleeful face ramps up your own excitement as he ushers you into his car.

“I thought we were going to have a picnic?” you ask as he flops into the drivers seat, curls bouncing almost as much as he is.

“That was my distraction,” he says, picking up your hand and kissing the back of it. Your heart still flutters, even months after that first one at the stroke of midnight.

Dating Javi had, of course, been just as much of a step off the deep end as you thought. Even being close by now that you’re back in LA for work and he’s hobnobbing with the Hollywood elites, some days getting dinner feels like making a doctor’s appointment. Matching schedules down to the half hour, groaning when something comes up. But it’s all worth it when the stars align and he’s on your doorstep with all-encompassing hugs and breathless kisses.

At first Javi’s dates were low-key and low-stress - a day at the beach, movie nights of course - but as you got closer and closer he started to take you places that had dress codes and extravagant names. He always beamed like you were the only one in the room, but you’d been in enough spaces you didn’t belong to feel eyes and judgements skitter across your back.

You could be poised, and knowledgeable, conversational and charming, but nothing changed how you looked. Javi was always dripping in Armani, Burberry, Brioni. Your paltry wardrobe didn’t stand a chance. Every new art show or movie premiere sent you running to a department store to find a new dress (pretty girls on their rich boyfriend’s arm didn’t reuse eveningwear) and inevitably you’d be pinched or poked or squeezed into something not made for you. Long minutes spent in the bathroom wondering if Javi would notice the bra strap divot in your shoulder, or the dark lines of seams pressed along your skin. Pretending you enjoyed slipping into a silk robe every time you spent the night was more palatable than the embarrassment of wriggling out of shapewear in front of him, or refusing to let him undress you in case a zipper pulled too tightly.

Unfortunately, you didn’t hide your discomfort as well as you imagined. Sometimes you caught Javi’s concerned look when the built-in corset made you squirm in your seat, or when you winced at the chafe of your heels.

So when he parks his car on Rodeo Drive he’s the picture of pride and sunshine. You, on the other hand, leave your stomach on the sidewalk behind you.

“I wanted to do something special,” he’s saying, muffled words bubbling up as your feet trudge to a gleaming glass door. There’s security inside, sales people scattered around holding hangers up to discerning buyers. “And before you say anything about money, I don’t want you to look at a single price tag.” Javi turns your face to him with a gentle nudge, breaking your doom stare through the glass. “I want to spoil you a little. You never let me spoil you.” His pout brings a little smile to your face, dipping in to kiss him.

“We can do anything Javi. I don’t need things,” you try to deflect, hoping you can convince him away from the inevitable rejection you’ll receive inside.

“Just one time?” he asks again, soft brown eyes imploring you. How could you say no?

“Okay,” you breathe out, steeling yourself for the worst as Javi beams back at you.

“I thought this place would match what you like,” he says as two suited doormen guide you inside. It flutters your heart. He’s right, you’ve always liked this designer’s silhouettes and styles. It’s exactly what you’d choose…if you were several sizes smaller.

“Hi, do you have an appointment?” a small-framed woman with black plastic glasses and a bouncy ponytail asks. She’s dressed head to toe in the designer’s current collection, sleek black throughout with stylish red earrings that dangle down her neck. Her smile isn’t as cold as you might expect. You’d heard horror stories of snide sales people practically insulting clients to get them to spend more.

“Yes, Gutierrez,” Javi offers smoothly, placing a grounding hand on your lower back. “For my girlfriend.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He doesn’t get the chance to say it often, but when he does you love the way girlfriend rolls off his supple lips.

“Ah, yes, miss…” the sales woman begins, letting you offer your name. You catch a fleeting look of concern cross her face. Her cheek sucks in like she’s chewing on it, smile still bright but eyes more cautious.

“My name is Melanie, if you’d like to follow me to your consultation space,” she says, leading you and Javi to a curtained-off partition with several chairs, a changing room and a pedestal that makes your stomach flip.

“So what are you here to find today?” Melanie asks. Javi settles in a chair, spreading his knees and leaning back so sexily you can almost forgive him for the anxiety pumping through your veins.

“Whatever my Conejita desires,” he says, and you’re torn between smacking or straddling him. Melanie turns her attention to you and you wrack your brain.

“I guess…a dress would be nice?” you say. Javi reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly, adoration so clear in his eyes. He truly has no idea it’s the most likely to have ease in the sizing. You might make it out with one and blame it on not wanting to overspend. Javi would get his wish, and you would make it out with most of your ego unscathed. Win-win.

Melanie leads you out of the space and into the clothing racks. The choices are sparse, a few items hung per rack in an exclusivity motif. As soon as you’re out of earshot she starts chatting.

“Your boyfriend is very sweet to be treating you today.”

You hum and nod, chewing the inside of your lip. Some of the pieces are very pretty, flattering cuts and classic shapes, but none of the silhouettes look large enough for you.

“Does he…do this often?” Melanie asks carefully, and when you look at her you see an understanding that soothes you ever so slightly.

“First time.”

“A surprise.”

“Yeah, pretty big one.”

Melanie smiles at that, arms wrapped around an iPad. Her nails are very pretty tapping against the device.

“Let’s take a look back here,” she says, leading you off the main floor and further into the store. The racks are fuller back here, but not nearly enough to make you think success is within reach. Your chest tightens, but you put on a cheery smile when Melanie turns back to you.

“Men are just…so thick sometimes,” she sighs, and the sharp change makes you bleat out a laugh. “I’m sure Mr. Gutierrez has the best intentions in mind…”

You nod and finish her sentence.

“...but you don’t have anything here for me.” Her hands clutch at the tablet again, going white around the knuckles.

“We might have a few things, but they’ll be simpler. Not like the current collection.”

“Simple is fine,” you rush to say, her smile making your own come to the surface.

“Okay, let me go digging. I think we can make it work. I’m…” She pauses to clear her throat, lowering her voice. “I’m sorry this isn’t fun. I hate it. I just want everyone to feel happy in their clothes, not…left out.”

You turn your comfort to her, squeezing her shoulder.

“I appreciate you trying to help.”

Melanie scurries off to the backroom, leaving you on the bustling floor with ten other women who could slip into anything off the rack no problem. Weaving aimlessly, you peruse the dresses. Each one holds promise, which only makes it more disappointing when the tag numbers run too small. But you’re keeping positive, searching for Melanie’s bouncing ponytail returning with anything. You’d gush over a mumu.

“Excuse me,” comes over your shoulder, and you turn to another sales woman hovering expectantly behind you. Her brow is lifted high, barely waiting for you to shift before tugging a garment off the rack. She turns quickly, but in the split second before you see it. That stomach-dropping look that screams good luck slathered in sarcasm. Your throat clenches, hands coming to your middle and you wish you could just collapse into yourself like a dying star.

“Fuck this,” you whisper, tears shining in your eyes as you hurry back to the consultation space. You’ll tell Javi you have a headache, that you’re too hungry to shop right now, anything to convince him to get the hell out of here.

“Cone…” he says as you burst in, snatching up your purse and steeling your voice. The sunshiney excitement trades quickly for concern. “What is wrong? I promise the cost…”

“Actually, I don’t really…I don’t…” You try to get out your white lies with an even tone but when Javi cups your face in his large hands your composure crumples. A fat tear breaks rank and rolls down your face, Javi’s eyes widening with shock.

“Conejita, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” His eyes darken a fraction. “Did someone say something to you?”

Your heart skips a beat, which you blearily file for later introspection. Resting your head on his shoulder, he envelops you in his arms. Orange peel and musk surrounds you, Javi’s soothing hands traveling up and down your spine. When your breaths stop warbling you pull back, wiping your face.

“I’m sorry…” you start to say, but Javi moves you to sit. He drops to a kneel, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No, Conejita, you are not apologizing for one second. What has upset you? Was it someone out there?” When you shake your head, his eyes soften. “Was it me?”

“Oh Javi,” you sign, squeezing his hands. Your lashes are still wet with tears, but you can see his dread so clearly. “I really appreciate this, all of it. I’m sure it’s flattered lots of people before. But I’m…me.” You release a big breath, the pain of keeping all your anxieties in finally easing. “I can’t shop at places like this, Javi, I don’t…they don’t make clothes like this for people my size.”

Javi’s concern smashes into confusion.

“But they must have seamstresses in the back. They take your measurements, no? Find an acceptable piece and tailor it?”

The laugh you bark out is watery but it does raise the corners of your lips.

“Men have it so easy,” you bemoan. “I think the closest size I saw was still in the single digits. And even then, the numbers rarely mean anything.” Javi’s confusion only deepens.

“But how do you know what to buy? Surely the measurements are the same. Inseam, waist, sleeve length, how can it be so different?”

“Javi, I’m rarely the same size at the same store.”

Javi sputters. “That’s madness. How does anyone put up with that?”

You giggle lightly, the tears finally receding. “I just go to the department stores. More variety, more sizes. No pushy sales people. Though Melanie is really nice.”

“But you are still uncomfortable,” he says, stroking his thick thumbs along the back of your hands. “I did not want to say anything, but I noticed. You do not seem to feel good in the nice things you wear.”

You shrug. “It’s not perfect, it’s just…easier.”

His eyes implore up at you. “I wanted you to feel good with me.” Your heart patters, Javi’s face falling. “But I have made it worse. Please forgive me, Conejita, I truly did not know this would be so painful.”

You pat Javi’s cheek and give him a quick kiss. “I know, Javi. I know you didn’t mean for it to be.” A tap on his nose makes him smile. “But next time, when the lady doth protest too much, maybe listen?” Javi’s cheeks pink as he nods.

“Shakespeare has always been wiser than me,” he jokes as he helps you back to your feet. He leads you back to the front of the store with one hand on your back, and for a few seconds you do feel like the most beautiful person in the room. Women looking at you in awe, Javi’s fingers pressing in a way that’s subtly possessive. You could be lady Godiva riding a Shetland pony and not feel a lick of shame when he looks at you like that.

“Mr Gutierrez!” Melanie calls as she hurries up to the front to intercept. Her hands are empty, which is a relief.

“Thank you for your help, I just don’t think there’s anything for me here,” you say in a practiced tone that makes Javi pull you closer and Melanie’s eyebrows knit in the middle. She nods, extending a folded piece of paper to Javi.

“I’m sorry they didn’t have something for you today,” she says, and Javi takes the proffered paper. He leads you out of the store and into the fresh sunlight of the street. Unfolding it, he raises an eyebrow then secrets it away in his jacket pocket.

“What was that about?” you ask, tucking your arm into his elbow. He shakes his head.

“Nothing important. What is important is going to get some lunch, then we are going driving with the top down and dinner at my place after.”

“Javi…” you say with a little warning, but he tuts at you as his long stride pulls you down Rodeo drive.

“I know, I know what you will say, but bear with me because I am learning how to love you the right way. Today was not so good, but I would like to try and make it better.” He slows down when he catches your wide eyes and dazed smile. “What? What have I said now?”

“That you love…” the last words disappear on the wind as Javi’s smile crinkles his eyes.

“Of course, Conejita. Dios mio, of course I love…I love you,” he rushes out, barely able to finish before crashing his lips into yours. Wide palm cupping your head, you couldn’t care less that you’re making pedestrians part around you. Javi loves you, even if he’s a little clumsy about it. But when someone wants to learn to love you the right way…how can you not love every atom of them back?

The following weekend finds you in one of the lesser-used rooms in Javi’s house, sitting on a chair by the window. He deposited you there with a cappuccino and a promise to wait, so now you’re doing just that. Javi does love surprises, but you never expected Melanie to walk in the door.

“Oh my god, hi,” you manage to get out, standing up to shake her hand but are treated to a tight hug instead. She looks brighter, lighter than the last time you saw her, black ensemble traded for a pale blue button-up and floral patterned pants.

“Javi told me it was a surprise, and I want it on the record that after this one he’s not allowed any more!” You sit across the little cafe table from her with visible confusion.

“I am a bit…lost…as to the surprise,” you giggle out nervously, which has Melanie opening a smart black bag and taking out folios and fabric swatches.

“I’ve been trying to get my stylist business off the ground and…” She pauses for a moment before making genuine eye contact. “And if there’s anything I was meant to do, it’s find people clothes that make them happy. So I offered him my services and he’s…well, he’s been very generous.”

Pride swells in your chest. So Javi.

“So what we’re going to do today is figure out what you like, don’t like, colors, styles, and then I’ll start building your wardrobe. Sound good?” Melanie’s smile is contagious.

“Sounds amazing.”

You don’t quite understand every step of the process. At one point she drapes color swatches on your chest like a bib and you can’t help but giggle. But it’s fun, maybe for the first time you can remember. She writes down that you hate side-seam zippers and skirts cut above the knee. That you love color but not too garish. And when you catch Javi pacing outside the glass door to the patio, peeking in anxiously every five minutes, your smile softens. She probably doesn’t write that part down. That’s written on your face.

You can’t stop twirling in the mirror, inspecting from every angle. You try to scrutinize, but you can’t find a single thing wrong.

It’s perfect.

After the wardrobe cleanout, the basics overhaul, and the lengthy plan Melanie made, she asked a thrilling question.

“What’s the first piece you’d like me to find?”

“I’ve always wanted a little black dress,” you replied, and her smile almost eclipsed her face.

“I have the perfect one in mind.”

She wasn’t kidding. It’s full and flouncy, smoothing in all the places you normally criticize and accentuates your figure in the best ways. The fabric is sumptuous under your fingers, just the right weight without dreaded sheerness. You can imagine yourself with hair done up, your favorite lipstick, Javi’s hand on your lower back, that possessive glint in his eyes. All of the excitement makes you spin three more times, the room tilting briefly before you catch Javi standing in the doorway.

“Hey!” you call out breathlessly, smoothing the skirt again. “It’s the first thing Melanie’s sent over. I…oh my god, I love it so much.” You turn to look in the mirror again, and in the reflection you see Javi’s mouth parted, eyes dragging over you. His fingers are rubbing together at his sides and…is he clenching them?

“She took everything I said and just found the most perfect dress.” Your thumb catches in the fabric and you spin back around to gasp, “And it has pockets!”

You’ve barely taken your hands out of them when Javi is on you, all greedy mouth and firm hand on the back of your head. His tongue demands on your lips, slipping inside when you gasp for him. Arm banding around your back, he steadily walks you backwards towards the bed.

“Conejita, mi amor, eres tan hermosa,” he pants, his wandering hand settling on your ass and squeezing. It crackles between your thighs, white-hot arousal at how he holds you. Javi has always been generous in bed, and highly competent, but this is a side of him you haven’t seen. Maybe briefly when he asked you if someone bothered you at that awful boutique store.

Before you can rationalize anything further he guides your hips down to the bed, teetering on the edge. He quickly drops to his knees and dives his hands under the skirt, sliding one knuckle along the seam of your pussy.

“Javi…” you squeak out, but his touch leaves to curl around your underwear and yank them down your legs. The rip of a seam makes arousal gush between your legs, spreading them instinctually. He licks his lips before fisting your skirt above your waist and ducking down to taste you for too brief a moment. Your hips buck, teeth nipping at your inner thigh before he lifts up to kneel between your legs.

“Javi, the dress,” you caution, and with a sweeter smile he shifts his knees to make sure the fabric isn’t trapped between. When his eyes meet yours again he plants a hand by your head and laps between your lips, slow and sensual. The clink of his buckle coming undone aches deep in your core, fisting his button-up across his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Conejita, I just…cannot control myself when you look so beautiful,” he confesses as his fingers tease at your entrance. A choked whimper ekes out as he opens you up on two, pumping mercilessly into your clenching heat. He swears in Spanish into your neck, and your quiet whines grow to moans when his thick cock begins thrusting into the crease of your hip. His panted breaths start to take on a rumble, then a growl as his fingers match his shallow thrusts. Overwhelmed, you grasp at what words will make him give in.

“Javi, please, oh my god, please fuck me,” you finally manage, rocking your hips with his frantic pace.

“You’re ready for me?” he husks, your vociferous affirmations drawing his fingers out to leave you achingly empty. He slicks his cock with you, lining up and pressing just the head in before he plants his hands by your head and just…looks at you.

“Dios mio, eres una diosa,” he breathes, all of the sweet man you love. Grabbing around his wrists, you roll your hips down to sink more of him inside. He stretches you so deliciously, filling your cunt and lungs.

“Take it, Javi,” you rasp, head tossed back. “Show me I’m yours.”

Javi bites his lower lip and looks at you with a depth you crave. Infatuation and devotion and a desire so hungry you want to sate him for hours. In a dizzying flick of his wrists he now presses yours into the bed.

“Mine,” he purrs, and the snap of his hips as he buries himself flush draws a lusty cry from your lips. “My beautiful Conejita,” he grits out, grinding his hips deep to press punishingly into your g-spot. You writhe under him, legs clamped around his waist as he slides out just enough to punch back in. “You are mine, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Javi, yes, I’m yours,” you beg, and it’s exactly what he needs to begin fucking you earnestly, scooping his hips to drive deeper and deeper. The friction of his grind strums your clit just right to tremble around him. Pinning you with a rumble, he fucks you into the mattress until his wandering hands can’t stop from palming your breast, rolling your nipple through the fabric. The spike of pleasure urges you to meet him stroke for stroke, riding him just as hard back. He grabs your chin just firmly enough to coax more slick to coat his cock, guiding you back to his demanding mouth. He steals your breath, sucking your lower lip between his teeth and groaning when you shudder around him.

“Not going to last, mi amor,” he whispers, lacing your fingers together as his thrusts lose rhythm.

“Cum on my pussy,” you plead, and with a strung-out moan he pulls out just quick enough to cover your mound with his hot spend. It drips lewdly, sliding to gather in the crease of your thighs. His eyes are fixated on it, the brand of his lust sticky on you. Your orgasm tips over as he slides his thumb through his cum to press firmly on your clit. His name is all you can manage as pleasure laps over your skin, his touch grounding as he praises you over and over.

In the afterglow, Javi folds the length of your skirt well above the mess he made.

“I will be sure to send this to drycleaning before you want to wear it,” he says, pulling a juddery giggle from your chest. He stands oh shaky legs and you glimpse his wet cock in the vee of his open pants, realizing you just fucked like college kids so horny for each other they couldn’t even undress properly. It makes you giddy as he brings over tissues to clean up, careful not to leave any of his spend where it could stain. When he’s finally satisfied he drops down on the bed, opening his arms for you to snuggle into. Once fitted together, eyes heavy, he murmurs in your ear.

“It wasn’t the dress.”

You hum sleepily, sitting up to look into his sated face.

“You are most beautiful when you are happy,” he says, the earnestness earning him another sweet kiss.

“I am very, very happy Javi.”

He doesn’t need to tell you that he is. It’s written on his face, and in his heart.

END

#javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x f!reader #javi gutierrez x female reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #tuwomt fanfiction #tuwomt fanfic #the unbearable weight of massive talent fanfiction #prolix fics

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nanaminokanojo · 5 months ago

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ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 61

-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur

CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 61 next>>

A/N: Narrations after the 7th panel. Also, I've updated Parts 56 and 60. The video is working on the former and I forgot to add the narrations on the latter prior to the video. Idk what I was thinking with this last update. Sorry for that and for this very brief update. Smutty things to come in the next chapters!

You were left to think of what Uraume told you, said in such an unsentimental manner that one would have thought that they were just talking about something trivial. But it got you thinking of so many things all at the same time, perplexed about the meaning behind those simple words, thrown out in the wind, free for interpretation.

However, you were no longer able to ask as the others returned, Choso immediately slinging an arm over your shoulder and asking after you. “You look flushed. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Y-yes, thank you.” Your eyes immediately flicked to Sukuna who was standing beside Uraume, and you felt your face heating up all the more when he smiled at you. “It’s just really hot.”

“You sure?" he asked, snickering. You knew what he was getting at, but you didn't say anything.

“Hi, princess,” Naoya greeted, blocking your view of Sukuna.

You thought he was nice although he could be rather full of himself. It wasn’t in an annoying way, just in a funny, disarming way. Noisy, too. “Hi.”

“Call me Naoya.”

You nodded but you did not say it, suddenly remembering your confliction about what Uraume told you. You did notice it, too, the way everyone called Sukuna by his last name. Everyone just referred to him as “Ryomen,” and you pondered on whether it meant anything that you’re the only one who called him by his birth name.

The thoughts plagued you even as you sat in the car, your eyes remaining trained on him in the tense silence that seemed to have followed your last words when he asked you if you were ready to go home. You still couldn’t shake the same feeling you had earlier when you were watching him play, your senses seemingly hyper-aware of every single detail of him. Your heart felt full as the afternoon sun shone through the windows, touching his being that you thought, if you blinked, he’d disappear like a mirage.

It was the case up to the moment he parked on the spot next to where your own car had been sitting in the garage since the accident. It was gathering dust, but you have grown accustomed to the passenger side of Sukuna's car, the apple-cinammon air freshener he used and the feeling of having someone to talk to and laugh with while going places.

You didn't like the idea of driving on your own anymore, always alone inside your car.

TAG LIST: @catobsessedlady @kyo-kyo1 @lavender-hvze @guacam011y @eyered @hellomeow12 @light-yagami-l @domainofmarie @noble-17 @weebbuscuit @lu-c1na @vinnieswife @the-haitani-baton @iaminyourfloors @needtoloveoutloud @r-ryuko09 @somestardeww @swirlingcurses @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @bronze-metal @iluv-ace @kidd3ath @ichorstainedskin @ti-mame @hellyyy06 @shuujin @lysaray @lilc77 @toffeebrat

Guys, I can't tag you: @junehasnotbeenfound @its-princessmara @mythoscalliope @sukunasbudussy @pheonix-eclipses @multifandomloner

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

#sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna #sukuns fluff #sukuna smau #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smau #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjx smau #jjk fluff

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guppybibi · 4 months ago

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It's Showbiz, Baby.

𖦹 pairing: Kita Shinsuke x fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 2460

𖦹 content: shinsuke is in deep denial, slowburn…very slowburn. hints(?) of body image issues and eating disorders. shinsuke is insanely oblivious. mild cursing.

𖦹 notes: a lot of the farming terms are from google…i i dont know how it works. Also just posted it on my AO3 ! (hearts4abbie). I apologize for any misinformation about the topics here, all of these are from google. next one is them having a silly 'date' tee hee:p

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ Part 1 ┊ Part 2

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

It was the break of dawn, and Shinsuke was already up and about in the fields; sleep was still in his system. He yawns as he tends to his rice grains, spraying on some fertilizer to increase the yield. Adjusting his hat that keeps him cool while under the sun, he yawns while intently watching the sky as he waits for the sun to rise. To his own surprise, he was met with a light tap on his back which obscurely startled him. His body instinctively does a little jump, yet his face said otherwise as it was still the same as before. Turning around to see who it was, expecting it to be his family. You were standing right before him in humble clothing, one wouldn’t think of you as a viral sensation with how you looked like right now. Shinsuke mentally shook his head, he shouldn’t stereotype that all celebrities prance around in designer clothing..

“Um..Shinsuke, right? Can I ask you something?” You asked in a rather meek tone which Shin didn’t really expect, sure he had already met you yesterday but he couldn’t just automatically assume how a person acted based off of one single interaction. He won’t lie, he has watched multiple of your movies with his sister and you coincidentally played all of the roles that required you to be rude and mean. He just..expected you to act that way in real life as well since you were so good at playing those types of roles. It was like you were meant to be playing the role of an antagonist in every movie you star in, yet the figure in front of him tells him a completely different story. “Yes, what do you need Ms.- um..Y/N.'' He curses himself in his head when he slips up, he had permission from her to address her casually; after all they seemed to be about the same age as each other. “Well I’m sorry for bothering you if I did but I heard there’s a plaza nearby? Do you know the directions to it?” You ask, fiddling with your hair as you anticipate his answer.

“The plaza..? Well I’m not so sure which plaza you’re referring to but the nearest one here is about an hour away..” He replies and gets a disappointed look in return, hearing you mutter an “oh..”. The air of dismay surrounding you struck something in him, he wasn’t sure he knew what it was but he couldn’t stand seeing you feel that way. He assumes it’s just his hospitable nature striking a chord in his system, a lady was in need of help; his client out of all people so he needed to help. “I’m actually stopping by there later this afternoon to drop off some deliveries, maybe you could tag along?” He offers, quickly catching your attention. “I’d love to! Thank you so much, I’ll pay you-""No need to pay me with money, I don’t need it.” He bites his tongue to stop himself from offering her to help her around the farm or cleaning his home, remembering that she was a guest and a celebrity. He shouldn’t let her lift a finger, she was here to relax; not to scrub the floors of their porch. Though you notice he was about to say something, urging him to continue. Humans had the right to speak after all! Unless he was an alien–no that was stupid..You couldn’t help but visualize him as an alien though..”No no! Go on, I’m not that sensitive. I’m sure I can handle whatever you were going to say.” You insist, the white haired man still looking unsure. “I..Maybe you could help with scrubbing the floors..?” He suggests, his voice barely audible as he tries to avoid your gaze. “That’s it?” You question, tilting your head to the side.

Shinsuke looks at you, raising another thin little brow. You spoke of the chore like it wasn’t a laborious task, sure it wasn’t the hardest one but it still required a good amount of effort. “You don’t really need to-” “No! I- I mean, I’ll do it!” Shinsuke knew that he had no place to argue back, whenever he had disagreements with women he always somehow managed to lose. Whether it be with his grandma or sister, it seems like it hasn’t changed until now. “Alright, I’ll take the silence as a yes. When do I start?” You ask, looking oddly excited to do such a chore. Shinsuke thinks about how his whole family is still asleep right now, not to be awake in a few hours or so. It would be best if she started while his sister was asleep so she doesn’t go batshit crazy when she sees her idol scrubbing the floors of her home. “If it’s okay with you, you can start now. When you’re finished, come back to me.” He instructs while you nod in agreement.

“The things you need are in the closet over there, thank you. If you don’t want to do it, you can always stop whenever.” “I’m not made out of glass, I can scrub a few floors here and there! I’ll be back.” Then you set off, Shinsuke could see your figure from afar–on your knees as you cleaned the floors. He can imagine his dear grandma scolding him for making a guest such as her clean their home. Eventually, you finish the task given to you; putting away all the supplies you used and proudly standing before the now squeaky floors. Looking over to the field, you see that Shinsuke was already pretty far. Running over to him, following his instructions earlier; you weren’t so sure if you were panting because you’ve been running too quickly for a while now or if your body is just tired from the task you just did. You always felt tired, you didn’t know why. Everyday you just felt so low on energy, like you were about to collapse and fall asleep. It never really worried you, you weren’t a sickly person–even as a child.

You stop in your tracks once you reach Shinsuke, who is still doing farm work. Hands on your knees and sweat beading on your forehead as you pant, you looked like you ran a marathon. A concerned expression arises on his face, about to reach out to help you before you start waving your hands. “I-I’m alright! I finished scrubbing the floors, they’re squeaky clean!” You babble, hands on your hips as you finally managed to lift your body up. “Um..alright, thank you Y/N. I’m actually about to finish up so we can have breakfast together? It’s 7AM already, unless you’ve already had your fill before coming up to me earlier?” Have you eaten yet? You don’t really remember, it’s not like you keep track of everything you do daily. You shook your head no, feeling your stomach grumble at the idea of food. You blush as you hear your tummy growl, wanting to shame your own belly from loudly announcing your hunger in front of your acquaintance. Shinsuke just smiles though, almost identical to the one his grandma always has. He doesn’t really notice the sounds of your stomach, not that he cares–it wasn’t any of his business. “Very well, come with me. I’ll just reheat some of the rice porridge we had last night, if that’s fine with you?” Rice porridge..It sounded nice, considering that the rice was made by them; a bunch of well trusted rice farmers–it must’ve been good. Yet the next words you blurted out next were quite different from what was on your mind. “How many calories does that have again?” You swore you sounded like a crazy health nut just now, realizing that it may have been interpreted as something rude. “It’s about 80 calories, I don’t see why it matters-” Stopping himself yet again, something felt weird..Shinsuke has never doubted himself, never. So why does he feel like he’s walking on eggshells when he’s around you?

Is it because you’re a literal leading light in the entertainment industry and could quickly trash his whole family’s name with a snap of a finger? No, with how you’ve acted so far; he can safely assume you wouldn’t do that over something so simple. However there really is something churning in the bottom of his stomach, you didn’t seem right to him. “80 calories huh..Well since I’m on vacation, I should treat myself to a good meal!” You mumble to yourself, shrugging as you watch and follow Shinsuke while you both trek back to his family home. You were honestly pretty surprised how welcoming he has been so far, is this how all province folk are? Wondering if his family was the same and that Shinsuke wasn’t an exception. You might as well move right here, this instant! “After you,” The bicolored man spoke, sliding the wooden door open carefully so as to not wake up his still sleeping family. Looking around his home as you step in, awe fills you once you see the traditional interior of the home. It felt strangely comforting, nothing you’ve ever felt even when staying at the grandest mansions back in the city. Everything truly has its own charm..”Make yourself at home, I’ll just heat up the food.” As Shinsuke excuses himself out of the room, while he heats up the food; the feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away. Perhaps it was just hunger, it must’ve been.

He’s never felt this way in a rather long time, the feeling has a similar tinge to when he was looking after his volleyball team way back. Watching over them like a proud father, feeling obliged to take them under his wing. Or the first time he saw his little brother, light shining on the swaddled baby as Shinsuke thanked the Gods above them. Care. That was what he felt. But why did he care about you? You were a mere client to him, ones he came across with everyday. What exactly made you different? He just couldn’t put a finger on it..He decides that he’ll soon do what he thinks is best, questioning his family about it.

Having breakfast with you felt natural, chatting about your two contrasting lives surely kept you both entertained as you gulped down the meal. The calming aura surrounding you both that felt just right was disturbed when Kimiko entered the kitchen, still in her pajamas with bed hair as she rubs her eyes open. She stood by the doorway, staring at you; recognizing you almost immediately. It took everything in her not to pounce onto you in excitement, she doesn't even know what to do first–is she still dreaming? She pinches herself, hoping she wasn't in a dream.

“Good morning Kimiko.” Shinsuke greets, interrupting Kimiko’s buzz as he drinks some water. Then you figure it was time for you to greet her as well, it’d be awfully rude not to. “Good morni-” “OH MY GOD! I- And you're having breakfast with my brother!?” She even takes a double take to make sure you were really eating together with her brother and he didn't even bother to tell her! She couldn't believe this, it was practically betrayal! “I’m Kimiko, it's so so so nice to meet you- I’m honored-!” She blurts out, taking your hand and shaking it instinctively. She was in such a thrill she didn't even notice she was crossing your boundaries a little bit.

What she did notice is how bony your hands are, a punch from you would definitely hurt..The inner Kita family hospitality and concern arises in her system, looking down at your linked hands. They were veiny but that was normal, but someone of your age and height shouldn't be this skinny. She slowly sets your hand down, apologizing for her actions. “It's alright, no need to apologize. It's a pleasure meeting you Kimiko, your family has been nothing but great since I got here.” You commented, flashing her one of your signature soft smiles that made everyone melt.

“And, thank you Shinsuke for the meal. I’m going back to my cabin, I’ll get ready for the ride later.” You then excuse yourself and leave the two siblings alone, once Kimiko makes sure you're out of the vicinity she gives her brother a knowing smirk. “A ride, huh? Got a date?” Shinsuke shook his head no, he was just doing you a favor after all. “No, she's going to the plaza so I figured it’d be best if we go together.” He gets a disappointed sigh from Kimiko, huffing as her excitement dies down. “Awh..too bad, I thought my brother actually scored a date with a celebrity!” The bicolored man was unfazed, used to her sister's teasing. Shinsuke never really bothered about his love life, putting his work and family as his top priorities. He knew it was important but he had to set goals first.

“Ya know I got eyes on the back of my head, I know you have a thing for Y/N. To be honest, you really aren't the only one so I’m not surprised. I wouldn't mind her being my sister in law!” Her words made the man think, he simply believed that this was just infatuation. She was a beautiful young woman after all, the whole world was aware of that so it really wouldn't be anything extraordinary. He wasn't one to believe in things such as ‘love in first sight’, those were just things entertainment made up. Kimiko knew what her brother was thinking, annoyed at it..or she's just a ‘little’ bit of a hopeless romantic. “I know you're thinking this is just infatuation again, and I’m not pressuring you to start a thing with her or anything–but if you feel something for her then go for it. Take the chance.” Again, this made Shinsuke think. He knew she was right, still–he never really had the heart to go further as ‘friends’ with the people he met. Not that he was uneducated about it, he was honestly just a busy guy. The part of her being a celebrity set him off a little bit though, her life was far from private and quiet. The complete opposite of what he desired, he felt like it wouldn't work out in the long run. “Um..yes, alright. Though I do believe a ‘crush’ of some sort is formed over time thr-” “Yes yes, we get it! No need to do some rocket science explaining, now go prepare the packages. I’ll have breakfast and clean up.” She cuts him off, pushing him out of their humble family home. Shinsuke grumbles under his breath..

“Maybe for once in my life, the results won't be just a byproduct.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x female reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke x you #kita x you #kita x y/n #kita shinsuke fluff #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke #hq kita

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spacetime-asriel · 2 months ago

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Almost two months ago now, I noticed something odd while going through the MCSM skintones site. I had gone onto the site to grab the Warden's skintone for reference, but, out of curiosity, I decided to look at other characters within the Sunshine Institute section too. When I went into the Guards subsection, I noticed that Guard A seemed strangely familiar. I decided to grab them as well and placed them next to the Warden.

Then I realized why they seemed familiar - they were perfectly identical to the Warden!

I went to look in a video to verify and sure enough, there she was!

I use feminine pronouns for her because of her feminine voice. (Also side note: she has a lot more dialogue than other associates for some reason? It's a little weird, but very welcome to me.)

Here's a clip of her! (I apologize if the video is cropped really weirdly or distorted!)

So, my (likely not canon headcanon) explanation for this girl?

My base headcanon is that she is the Warden's identical twin and one of them transitioned.

My sillier, yet sadder, headcanon is that she ended up here because Romeo mistook her for the Warden while he was on the surface and he sent her "back." He only realized his mistake when he went to the Institute himself to punish "the Warden." The real Warden reasonably freaked out at the sight of his sister and Romeo proceeded to refuse to put her back when the Warden begged him to. Eventually, they compromised and she became an associate.

As a final note to this post: in the intro of Episode 3, her model is used twice in a single scene. From what I know, there are only four models in her group so it isn't quite a surprise that this happened. Personally, I believe the guard that chases Jesse in the intro is NOT her, as the one in the tower speaks with her voice. Perhaps this is actually an identical triplet situation and Romeo messed up twice? How many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old man?!

Anyway, here are two bonus images!

Thank you for reading this, if you did! - Lemon :D

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #minecraft: story mode #mcsm warden #mcsm romeo #lemon's wild ramblings #im not sure what i should officially call her yet but #warda and gertrude are the main ones ive used #im number one fan of this fictional unnamed block girl lol #is this really my first actual serious rambling post?

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jotun-philosopher · 5 months ago

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A narrative clothesline

The following ramble isn't what I think is *likely* to happen in S3; it's more of a narrative clothesline that my brain has constructed almost completely independently of any conscious effort on my part, influenced by various metas and my own and others' speculation, and it serves as a thing onto which I can peg images and vignettes and headcanons that I really like. (My brain is a very interesting place and tends to make stuff up without me noticing...) This gets VERY LONG, so have a bookmark handy!

Wackiness under the cut! Also torture, psychological abuse, violence, PTSD -- tread carefully.

Now, on with the motley!

***

Long, long before any sort of beginning, eons (if such temporal vocabulary makes sense here, given that time hasn't been invented yet) before a certain flame-haired starmaker realised he needed a hand with his blueprints, the Archangels Raphael and Azrael become suspicious of the Metatron and his interpretation of the Great Plan, becoming the first two angels *ever* to question when they start probing his motives. The Metatron takes great exception to this, and by the time he's finished with them, there isn't enough left to make two whole angels. Scenting a possibility for experimentation, he stitches these remnants together into a single new angel of lesser rank, who he hopes will be more compliant and biddable.

...Okay, you can stop laughing now.

[Main Titles]

See, in modern times (a couple of months or so after Gabriel's shock resignation), the Supreme Archangel "Raphael" -- resplendent in elaborately draped robes of Heavenly white (difficult to run or defend oneself in) with wide bands of elaborate gold decoration at the wrists and high collar (which, looked at another way, resemble symbolic chains) over bare feet (terribly angelic, but a classic way to humiliate captives while making it harder for them to flee). The overall effect is of regal, ethereal magnificence and dignity -- unless you know the full context, in which case the clearest impression is one of mockery, contempt and "We own you -- mind, body and soul -- and can do what we like to you with absolute impunity. Think about that before you consider rebelling."

The facial features and shock of fluffy white hair are heartbreakingly familiar, the utterly blank facial expression and stiff, upright demeanour less so. His voice, when he speaks, is many octaves below the 'soft bookseller' tones one might expect. Also unusual is "Raphael"'s tendency, when unobserved, to stare into space while touching his mouth or fiddling with a mysterious silvery trinket; otherwise, he goes about his duties in the manner expected of an Archangel, knowing only what he needs to know to prepare for the Second Coming. Which means that when his predecessor in post and a former Duke of Hell sneak in via an unregarded rear entrance to plant bugs, "Raphael" doesn't notice or react to them at all!

Cut to Crowley sprawling on a bench in some rural area, brooding deeply and looking portentously undisturbable (his native optimism is taking a while to rev up after the recent emotional whammies). When someone unexpectedly stands between him and the sun, he starts to snarl at them, only to be interrupted by a cheery, "Party name of Crowley?" Crowley leaps up, startled, accusatory and hostile, but the International Express delivery guy hastily clarifies, "It's ok, sir, just a mundane delivery -- but the lady was very specific about where to find you." Crowley (recognising the style) simmers down enough to take the letter with some grumbled thanks, opens it and is stopped in his grouchy tracks by a reference to the body swap that could *only* come from someone deeply familiar with the Nice & Accurate Prophecies.

Attention thoroughly caught, he scans the rest of the letter, swears in ancient Sumerian and bolts for the Bentley, nearly colliding with four startled, nervous-looking angels in militaristic garb. Crowley reaches for his crank handle, but then notices odd details -- the large wooden box one of them is holding, the dishevelled state of the uniforms, the insignia, all four of the angels bowing to him with deep and genuine respect... "Hang on, you lot are from Aziraphale's old platoon, aren't you? What the blazes are you doing here?"

The angel holding the box stutters in fright for a few seconds, but manages to get out, "Th-The L-T... He's...not exactly dead, but we're not sure what the Metatron did to him. W-whatever it was, it was bad, so we, that is the platoon, got together and drew lots and we gathered all the L-T's personal effects we could find and deserted..." The angel proffers the box to Crowley, while one of the less-intimidated angels explains, "You're effectively the L-T's next of kin, the whole platoon saw him desert in favour of you during the last go at Armageddon, and we've decided we respect him and you more than we fear the Metatron."

Crowley is very impressed, and says so. "But what about the rest of you?"

"They're back Upstairs, keeping watch over the L-T in case of untoward developments."

"Rrrrright... Oooooookayyy... I take it, then, that you're willing to take orders from me until the Second Coming is foiled?" The deserters nod. "Right, in that case -- you know where the Bookshop is? Meet me there, but don't teleport directly; it's too easily traced." The deserters salute crisply and set off flying, while Crowley climbs into the Bentley and takes a moment to investigate the box. It does indeed contain Aziraphale's clothes and personal effects, and he spends a couple of minutes just holding the familiar old waistcoat against his cheek and inhaling its scent, before starting the engine and veering off at speed. He's so awash with emotion that the one item missing from the box doesn't immediately register...

Back in Soho, things are fairly slow in Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, so Nina's got time to chat with the customers. They're interrupted by the sound of a recklessly driven 1933 Bentley blaring Velvet Underground dopplering up the street in their direction. The Bentley turns within its own length and slips neatly into position outside the Bookshop, before disgorging a goth-punk redhead and a snatch of vocals -- "RUN RUN RUN RUN RUUUUN". The redhead slams the door, hefts a large box under his arm, yells, "FUCK THA SECOND COMING!!!!! HAHAHA!!" skyward (with accompanying hand gestures) and swaggers into the Bookshop as if he owns the place. Following a stunned silence, the customers ask, "Who...was that?" Nina replies, "Oh, that's Mr Crowley. He's one of our local, uh, characters. Basically co-owns that bookshop with his husband."

Inside the Bookshop, Crowley calls, "Oi, Muriel! You there?" and is answered by a nervous squeak from a pile of books on the mezzanine. He leaves the box by the till, bounces up there and glances from the haphazardly stacked volumes to the extremely worried scrivener hiding behind them. Plopping comfortably on the floor, he asks, "Lord of the Rings, eh? [waves the book in question] How're you getting on with Tolkien?"

Caught a little off-guard by Crowley's sudden appearance and friendly demeanour, Muriel replies, "Um.. I-I-I... It's good, but I found it a bit overwhelming. I-I liked the bit about the elves only guarding their forest, not ruling or owning it, though."

"Yeaaah, Tolkien's style can be a bit much if you're not used to it. He was a pretty interesting guy, though, great linguist. You'd've liked him. Anything else grab your interest?"

Muriel brightens up a little. "Yeah! The Discworld stuff is great! There's so much there to think about that I hadn't even considered before! There was this bit in one of the later ones, about sin being treating people as things, and um, I..." Crowley gestures for them to continue. "Well, it got me thinking about how the Metatron was before, with the stuff in the trial we saw, and just telling Mr Fell that I was going to be in charge here without giving him a say, which is a big overreach and a kind of theft, and I think the wards are damaged but I can't fix them myself because that would really be theft, and I think the building's a bit sapient and resents my presence, and I haven't opened or anything because I don't know how bookshops work and don't have Mr Fell's permission to sell things, and I... I don't want the Second Coming to happen because there are so many books I haven't read yet!!!"

Crowley makes a 'simmer down' gesture. "Okay. Taking it from the top: Thinking is always good, never stop doing it. You're absolutely right about Heaven and the Metatron sinning by treating people as things. We will need Aziraphale here to reset the wards, but there're ways to shore them up without committing metaphysical theft. This building may well be a bit sapient, like my car, because Aziraphale's put so much time and love into it. If you're truly against the Second Coming, then you have my permission to be here. Aziraphale actively tries to avoid opening or making sales anyway, so you're doing fine on that front. Okay?"

He's about to say more, but is interrupted by a sound from outside that could be described as "a six-foot-tall cat played by John Hamm negotiating the expulsion of a particularly obstinate hairball while in extreme emotional distress".

Of course, what is actually is, is a certain renegade Supreme Archangel who's seen something that's upset him to the point of dry heaving and loud emotional meltdown: "THEY KILLED HIM!!! THEY WIPED HIM LIKE THEY WERE GOING TO DO TO ME AND THEY PUT HIM IN MY OLD JOB AND THAT SOMEHOW MAKES IT WORSE!!!" Beelzebub tries to calm him down, and they eventually succeed in directing Gabriel's attention to the Bentley, the Bookshop and the startled redhead leaning out of the doors.

It's a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Crowley lets them into the Bookshop without a word of snark. He directs them to the sofa, pours himself into the chair opposite and stares at them with a quizzically raised eyebrow. "Why'd you come back?"

Gabriel is still gathering himself, so Beez answers, "We got talking... We both have a lot to atone for, and Gabriel wanted to repay you and Aziraphale for your kindness better than he could have done when everything blew up before [Gabriel nods emphatically]. Then we reasoned that the destruction of everything in Armageddon round two would catch us wherever we were, and we'd be just as dead as if we'd been executed for returning..."

"...so we figured, what the heck, let's make it worthwhile!" Gabriel takes a slightly shaky breath. "So we came back to help you and Aziraphale mess up this Apocalypse, and we snuck into Heaven to plant spy flys [Beez smirks while Crowley does an impressed double-take], but then we saw..."

"Yeah, I heard you." Crowley pulls out the letter from earlier and hands it over. "Aziraphale's not dead, he's way too stubborn for that. We have more allies than you think, but we've got to plan carefully or we're stuffed. Speaking of allies..." He launches himself upright and swaggers to the door, where the deserters he met earlier have just landed. In something of a Regimental-Sergeant-Major mode, he says, "Right, you lot, this Bookshop is pretty much HQ for now, but the wards are damaged and we can't properly repair them without Aziraphale. Set up a guard duty rota covering all possible entrances and exits, at the double, but keep it discreet. Got that?" That done, he gently dragoons Muriel into helping him get his plants out of the Bentley and into his and Aziraphale's bedroom. When he's alone once more, he spends a few moments puttering around, sorting out his angel's clothes from the box (noting the missing bow tie with a twinge of sadness) and lining up the plants on the windowsill and anywhere else they'll fit. That done, he sternly tells them, "Right, you lot, listen up! You live here now, got it? So you'd better look nice for when Aziraphale gets back or else!" The plants visibly stand to attention as Crowley wields his plant mister threateningly, before gently spritzing their leaves.

Up in Heaven, "Raphael" has by chance managed to scrape up enough independent thought to wonder about the strange silvery trinket he's been holding on to without properly noticing its existence. Once the idea enters his consciousness, it won't leave, and he suddenly can't focus on anything else [the vibe and camera angels I have in mind are very 'Professor Yana properly noticing his pocket watch', but less evil]. He happens to still be holding it when he starts absently touching his mouth again, he accidentally swallows it...And there's a burst of mental white light, a garbled flood of memories -- Aziraphale is restored! He takes a couple of seconds to reorient himself, stretches his neck from side to side, wiggles his shoulders and generally limbers up to be a Chaotic Murder Hornet... Then Saraquel forcibly re-imposes the "Raphael" persona, but squashing Aziraphale inside his own mind rather than erasing him outright; she has her own plans regarding the Metatron, and can't afford to let Azzy be too chaotic too early.

Aziraphale is understandably furious and immediately starts testing the bounds of this latest development with subversive intent. (Beware the fury of a patient angel!)

Back in Soho, a day or two later, Nina's becoming increasingly worried about Heavenly and Hellish matters that she's witnessed or inferred; she's feeling a little awkward about contacting Crowley, but sends a message across to the Bookshop anyway. Crowley swaggers across the road in reply at about closing time (after a long shift monitoring the spy-flys), helps Nina carry some stuff inside, then sprawls in a chair with a raised-eyebrow Look. "Got your message."

Under the pressure of the sunglasses and the eyebrow, Nina quails a little, but says, "I... I owe you an apology." Crowley's other eyebrow goes up. "For raving hypocrisy. I shouldn't have tried to lecture you on how to run your relationship right after telling you off for doing the same thing. I'm sorry."

"We're even, then." Crowley sits up and leans forward. "There's something else, though. You're scared, about something you can't ask anyone else about. What is it?"

Nina hesitates, worried about sounding odd, then says, "You know Wintersmith?" Crowley nods emphatically. "I was reading it last night, and the part where Tiffany's critiquing a romance novel's depiction of a sheep farm made me think about coffee shop AU fanfiction and the stuff they get wrong -- like the characters running off in the middle of the morning rush to interfere in their neighbours' love lives -- and then I realised there're a few things about Maggie that don't add up, and there're angels and demons all over the place and WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON???"

Crowley is more or less unruffled. Gently, he tells Nina, "I'm the last person to discourage asking questions, and I understand why you have them, but this is one of those situations where getting answers is a risk; you can't un-eat an apple and expect to get the same apple back afterward, and the truth you're asking about would probably look like cosmic horror from a human perspective. If you and any of the other Whickber Sstreet Traderss really want answerss, I'm prepared to give them -- say, tomorrow evening at the Bookssshop? -- but be very ssure you truly want to know. Ok?" Upon her confirmation, he takes his leave, sashaying back to the Bookshop as Nina starts to work out why he used an apple metaphor in particular...

The next evening, the Bookshop is more full of people than it has been for quite some time; the Whickber Street Traders & Shopkeepers have (as Crowley suspected) been wanting answers about what's going on since the Meeting Ball. He's trying to call the meeting to some kind of order when there's another knock at the door. Suspicious (everyone he was expecting is already present), Crowley approaches the doors just as two file cards are pushed through the letterbox, showing Prophecies 3008 and 5004. Once he's recovered from the surprise, Crowley tears open the door to reveal Anathema Device and Newt Pulsifer and invites them in without further ado. Introductions are swiftly made, and Anathema explains that she knew she'd be needed tonight to explain about Agnes, and wanted to take the opportunity to pass on the Nice & Accurate Prophecies card index to someone who'd truly appreciate it for what it is. She then has to shake Newt a bit, because he's been rooted to the spot, staring in awe around the Bookshop. "This place is brilliant! It's kind of the Platonic ideal of old bookshops! I... [excited squeak, gesturing]"

Flattered on Aziraphale's behalf, Crowley smirks, notes that it's kind of Newt to say so, then saunters over to the till and rings the handbell for silence. "I hereby call to order this Truly Extraordinary Meeting of the Whickber Street Traders & Shopkeepers Association. I know you all want answers about what's been going on, and you definitely deserve them. Where would you like to start?"

Nina raises a hand and asks, "That metaphor you used yesterday, about eating apples -- there was a reason you used that, wasn't there?"

"Ah, yessssssssss!" Crowley grins hugely. "An excellent choice! Imagine, if you will a desert, and within that desert, a huge walled garden with a certain tree in the centre. A certain demon has been told to 'get up there and make some trouble', but he isn't really used to being a demon yet and has doubts about this whole 'evil for evil's sake' business, so he does the least troublesome thing he can think of that fits the brief, finds the official response a tad excessive, recognises the cute Principality on duty at the Eastern Gate, slithers over for a chat, the angel admits to giving away his flaming sword out of compassionate concern, and, well..."

"Vavoom?" Gabriel seems to be trying hard not to squee too obviously.

"Vavoom!" agrees Crowley, not buying the act for a second. He proceeds to recount (in as concise a manner as he can) the 6000-odd years of his and Aziraphale's joint history, not going into too much detail on specific incidents, apart from the Job business (at the request of Gabriel and some of the shopkeepers who'd never liked the 'official' version -- Gabe's pretty good-humoured about how daft the whole affair makes him look) and somewhat on the Bullet Catch (to impressed noises from Mutt and his spouse). It's all surprisingly lighthearted until the account gets to the arrival of the Antichrist and the first Armageddon, at which point Crowley becomes focused and deadly serious, calling in frequent contributions from Gabe, Beez, Newt and Anathema (the story of the body-swap dodge gets a rousing cheer, though!) and emphasising that what ultimately resolved the crisis was humans being magnificently human. Things get even more serious when the explanations reach Gabriel's casting-out and the impending Second Coming/Armageddon v2, and once the story's finished, the Whickber Street Traders have a moment of overwhelmed silence.

Nina breaks the silence by rather numbly commenting that Crowley really wasn't kidding about the cosmic horror thing. Other traders join in, contemplatively noting that the Ineffable Husbands are humanity's unofficial godparents and the ultimate queer elders, and Mr Brown (who's old enough to remember both) remarks on the parallels with both the Cold War and the dark times when homosexuality was illegal.

The atmosphere is rudely broken by an indication that someone Upstairs wishes to speak to Muriel immediately. Beez, the shopkeepers and guests immediately dive for cover behind every available bookshelf, while Crowley and Gabriel throw Muriel candles for the summoning circle and take cover themselves.

Muriel greets the activated circle with a cheery, polite, "Hello, this is the Angelic Embassy in London, Muriel speaking, how can I help?" A familiar (?) silhouette forms in the light within the circle; the Archangel "Raphael" is checking in to make sure that nebulously defined preparations on Earth are going well, and he is in addition curious as to why there were so many humans in the Bookshop earlier. Muriel explains that they were hosting a shopkeepers' association meeting, adding on the spur of the moment that it's part of their Earthly cover. As soon as they mention that, "Raphael"'s expression visibly twitches and glitches, as if there's some fierce internal struggle going on, he hunches over, looks up -- and it's Aziraphale in control once more, forcing himself out from under the imposed persona and visibly terrified.

Gabbling with nerves and fidgeting agitatedly with his hands, Aziraphale delivers a frantic apology for messing with everyone's heads at the Meeting Ball and begs Muriel to pass the message on if they can, because he's not sure he'll live to deliver it in person or be able to make practical amends. While Muriel is promising to pass the message on, Mutt notices something about Aziraphale's hand movements -- subtle pulling and folding among the agitated flailing -- and laser-focuses on that through a gap in the bookshelves. Cautiously, Muriel starts to ask whether there're any messages for Crowley, but Aziraphale notices there's someone listening in on his end and frantically gestures for Muriel to stop talking (in the process concealing a subtle wrist-flick throwing motion). He has a split-second to make eye contact with Crowley and attempt to convey "I love you more than anything" via eyebrow movements, and to receive a raised-eyebrow nod that conveys "I love you too, I'm working on things down here, I know what I'm holding without looking, and the answer to the associated question is yes," in return, before the "Raphael" persona is forcibly reimposed.

It's unsettling to watch -- his body is yanked mechanically, involuntarily upright like a puppet having its strings pulled, and he settles too smoothly back into the formal posture from the start of the call as his face becomes utterly blank once more. The call ends in a thoroughly conventional fashion, leaving the meeting attendees creeping out from their hiding places looking extremely shaken.

One or two people, once they've found their voices again, start to wonder aloud whether Aziraphale's apology was remotely sincere. Crowley confirms that it was, in a tone that suggests he's perplexed and a bit offended that anyone could think otherwise. Mutt backs him up. "He was in fear for his life! Who'd waste time lying in that kind of situation?!" He takes a couple of calming breaths, "So, yes, completely sincere, but I got the sense that it was at the same time a sort of misdirecting patter. Did anyone else see what he was doing with his hands? Looked like pulling something out of his sleeves and throwing it out of the circle right before he..."

"You're absolutely right." Crowley holds out his right hand and opens it to reveal a small, roundish tartan lump. As he unwraps Aziraphale's bow tie from around the package, he continues, "The thing about conducting a millennia-long clandestine relationship with painful annihilation as the price of discovery is that you have to be, or get, very good at communicating in ways that won't be understood or noticed by anyone who doesn't know the full context [quick sideways glance at Maggie and Nina]. For example, this..." He finishes unwrapping the bow tie to reveal Aziraphale's signet ring. "...means, among other things, 'I trust you with everything that I am.'" No-one dares say a word as Crowley slips the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand and secures the bow tie around his watch strap. He then wearily dismisses the meeting, responding to queries from the Whickber Street Traders about how they can help by saying, "Just... Keep being human, as hard as you can. That's what did for Armageddon last time..."

Up in Heaven, Saraquel is worried and speculative as she watches "Raphael" depart to resume his duties elsewhere, looking unusually shaky. She consults the memory-mangling app on her angelphone and realises that repeatedly imposing the "Raphael" persona without first erasing Aziraphale has rendered that persona increasingly fragile and liable to be thrown off permanently at any time.

Aziraphale does just that as soon as he's sure he's unobserved, but (warned by his previous experiences) acts as if he hasn't, all while weaving a small illusion miracle to bolster the pretence until he's ready to cast it off.

A couple of days later, Crowley is sitting in Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, brooding deeply and knocking back inordinate quantities of Nina's strongest espresso after a night watching the spy-flys. He's jolted out of his reverie by the arrival of the International Express delivery guy, cheery and businesslike as ever, bringing a letter from Anathema and a large parcel she's passing on for someone else. Crowley opens the letter first, reads it in mounting agitation, quaffs the last of his latest coffee and races back to the Bookshop. While Muriel's examining the letter, Crowley opens the parcel to find a number of things from Aziraphale -- Gabriel's scarf and tailored overcoat (along with an apologetic note about not being able to find more of his clothes), all records of his attempted execution and Gabriel's kangaroo court, information on the murders of Azrael and Raphael, a complete list of angels who've been memory-wiped without Falling (Muriel is perturbed to find their own name on the list), change logs for the Book of Life, details of other things the Metatron has been doing in an attempt to impede the Ineffable Husbands' ability to muck up Armageddon round 2; all in all, a very helpful mound of evidence for anyone intending to take down the system. In mounting fear for Aziraphale's safety and warned by part of Anathema's letter, Crowley leaves the Bookshop, the parcel and its contents under the temporary care of Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel and goes tearing off in the Bentley, Best of Queen blaring from the radio. Near the M25, though, the playback is interrupted by an ominous announcement: "Peoples of the Earth, please attend carefully. The information that follows is vital to the future of all of you..."

Up in Heaven, the Metatron is hijacking every sound-emitting device on Earth to transmit the "good news" about the Second Coming. He makes a smarmy, patronising speech about how wonderful it's going to be and how humanity should rejoice about the culmination of the Great Plan etc. etc. before introducing "Supreme Archangel Raphael" and handing him the trumpet to blow to formally begin hostilities. "Raphael" takes the trumpet (a tad dubiously, but the Metatron's too full of himself to notice) but doesn't immediately move to use it. Instead, in a deep and resonant voice, he says, "Before we begin, there is a quotation that I feel is very appropriate at this juncture." He then drops the "Raphael" illusion entirely and scrunches up the trumpet like tissue paper as he says, "As a wise and wily serpent once said, 'Great pustulent mangled BOLLOCKS to the GREAT BLASTED PLAN!'", his voice rising through the octaves to the familiar Aziraphale tones.

As Metatron has a major 'oh crap' moment (and Crowley, barrelling along the motorway, registers surprise, affection, pride and intense concern simultaneously), Aziraphale builds on his advantage of surprise to bluntly explain exactly what's really intended to happen, viciously and succinctly eviscerating the concept of 'Rapture' and the idea of Heaven and Hell giving a flying fuck about humanity, utterly condemning the celestial/infernal ego games and urging any angels or demons who've been doubting the plan to desert, explore life on Earth for themselves and make their own decisions.

Metatron, having recovered from the shock, tries to get his plans back on track. "My Lord Archan--"

"No." Aziraphale starts determinedly walking towards the elevators. "My name is Aziraphale. I am a Principality, and I claim the Earth and every living being upon it as my protectorate. The Archangel Raphael died a very long time ago, as you should know full well, Metatron, given that you murdered him."

The Metatron switches to faux-concern: "You have to do this! you're going against the Great Plan! You'll be damned--"

Aziraphale shrugs and keeps walking. "I am reliably informed that it's not so bad once you get used to it."

The Metatron is furious now: "You're a worthless remnant stitched together from worthless remnants, and if you want to have any value at all in your miserable little existence--"

Aziraphale makes a dismissive gesture and keeps walking, outwardly unaffected. (Cutaway to Crowley: "Oh, angel... I'm gonna pamper you SO HARD when I get you home...") He's making surprisingly good progress, between the confusion he's sown in the ranks and the support of those members of his old platoon who elected to stay behind and keep an eye on him. The Metatron manages to exhort a very few of the really fanatical loyalists to try to stop Aziraphale by force, heavily outnumbered though they are. Not many of them get through to Aziraphale, and he manages to dodge them in such a way that they end up hitting each other -- until Sandalphon, by an unlucky fluke, manages to catch him hard on the face. There's a breathless moment of shocked silence, broken by Aziraphale wryly snarking about how sloppy and complacent Sandalphon's form has become since Sodom and Gomorrah. He takes advantage of the confusion this causes to disarm Sandalphon of his sword and neutralise him, then hesitates as if to turn and support the anti-Armageddon rebels he's convinced -- they urge him to get back to Earth and Crowley. He does so with considerable haste, meeting comparatively little resistance. (Cutaway to Crowley, looking more worried than ever as the Heavenly transmission cuts off.)

[My ideas form a four-way branch at this point; the commonalities are Aziraphale crash-landing somewhere with his wings broken and/or on fire, Crowley picking him up and doing loads of healing miracles, creating a scabbard for the sword that Aziraphale is clutching like grim death, wrapping him in blankets, carrying him to the Bentley and driving him back to Soho, all the while fretting over him.

--Version 1: Aziraphale falls past an airliner and lands somewhere isolated enough that a search-and-rescue team with helicopter support comes looking for him. Aziraphale is traumatised enough to be very twitchy about letting the paramedics (who, kind or no, are after all strangers) do anything to him until Crowley shows up; he flatly refuses transport to a hospital and (by some chain of events) ends up staying the night with Crowley in the guest bedroom of a nearby cottage that proves to belong to Madame Tracy and Shadwell.

--Version 2: Aziraphale lands in the sea a couple of miles off Beachy Head, with his wings on fire -- or in some other highly visible way that sets off an immediate flurry of calls to the Coastguard. Eastbourne RNLI are tasked to the rescue, and once the Deputy Launch Authority's gotten over the initial 'WTF?' reaction, they decide to launch the station's Tamar-class all-weather lifeboat to fish him out (reasoning that when rescuing a casualty with a 12-foot wingspan, it'd be sensible to have the larger, more stable vessel). Crowley roars up to the lifeboat station in the Bentley right as the Tamar is launched, pops his wings and flies off after the boat with a cry of, "AZIRAPHALE, YOU MAD BASTARD, WHERE ARE YOU???" He actually finds Aziraphale first, grabs his hand and holds on to him with grim determination, which makes things a lot easier for the RNLI crew -- a demon with huge and distinctive wings is a heck of a lot easier to spot than a football-sized lump on the surface of even slightly rolling seas. Plus, between physical and psychological fatigue, injuries and voluminous, waterlogged robes, Aziraphale probably wouldn't have been able to miracle himself afloat long enough for the lifeboat crew to get there. Thanks to Crowley, though, get there they do, and once the Ineffables are safely on board they turn back for the lifeboat station; Crowley fusses around Aziraphale, doing healing and drying miracles and getting in the way of crew trying to do casualty care, while the coxswain tries to figure out how to put all this into the post-rescue report. Back at the station, the crew check the Ineffables over again, feed them choccy biscuits and hot sweet tea, then see them on their way. (And there's a *very* interesting segment on Saving Lives At Sea a few months later!)

--Version 3a: Aziraphale lands in St James' Park and drags himself over to their bench without intervention from passers-by, who (if they notice him at all) assume he's doing some sort of performance art.

--Version 3b: Aziraphale lands in St James' Park and is immediately besieged by solicitous bystanders -- some genuinely want to help, but some others in the crowd are classic Nice Little Old Ladies who think they Know Best and everyone should do as they say because they go to church in fancy clothes every Sunday; they barge around being unhelpfully helpful and ignoring or steamrolling over Aziraphale's protests that he's fine and just needs to rest, until one of them grabs his broken wing, saying, "My grandson's an ornithologist, dear, I know what I'm doing," and twists it. Aziraphale screams in agony and Crowley, already approaching at speed, teleports over and verbally tears the little-old-lady brigade a new one, all hissy and snarly and protective.]

Regardless of branch, cut to Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, where Nina is wrangling a gaggle of obnoxious influencer types out of the door, to cheers from the regular clientele. One of them comments jovially about how worrying it'd be if she ever lost her knack for that, which leads to a more general discussion about people acting out of character -- fading abruptly when Nina notices something outside and makes a grim comment about people who normally drive like absolute bloody maniacs suddenly acting like they're transporting fragile glass sculptures. Crowley's driving is notorious enough in Soho that everyone immediately rushes to the window to see the Bentley creeping gently into its spot outside the Bookshop. Crowley clambers out slowly, closes the driver's door quietly and moves around the car while Nina and the customers speculate about the fluffy white bundle they briefly glimpsed in the passenger seat. Their hypotheses are blown out of the water when Crowley straightens up, holding a sleepy Aziraphale in a bridal carry (wings, robes, sword and all), bumps the car door closed with his butt and carries his angel gently into the Bookshop, popping his wings for umbrella purposes when it starts raining.

In the Bookshop, Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel are almost more perturbed by Aziraphale's injured state than they were by the Heavenly transmission earlier. Without anything being spoken aloud, they help Crowley get him out of the Archangel robes and tucked up in bed. Crowley takes a certain savage glee in picking up the removed robes, chucking them out of the window and setting them on fire before removing boots, shades and blazer and snuggling next to his angel.

The next morning, Crowley drifts awake to find that Aziraphale has wriggled around significantly during the night and is now clinging to him big-spoon style, with all the tenacity of a particularly traumatised barnacle. Unwilling to deny his angel the comfort and closeness after the trauma of the past couple of months, he dozes and snuggles quietly, until the sound of the angelic deserters changing guard duty shifts reminds him that the Bookshop still isn't fully secure. Aziraphale has by this time woken up and is keenly aware of the same issue. He's determined to get the wards sorted immediately if not sooner; Crowley knows he's right that it needs doing, but is worried that he's pushing himself too hard, too soon. They bicker about it lightly while getting dressed -- a process slightly complicated by Aziraphale still feeling rather shaky and having considerable trouble pulling his wings back in. Crowley helps out with some small miracles, hands Aziraphale his walking stick from 1862 and does his bow tie. He takes a step back to bask in the warm fuzzies of seeing his angel looking like himself again; Aziraphale in turn gets very mushy about the exact finger his signet ring ended up on, enough to grab Crowley's lapels and pull him in for a quick smooch before they get to work.

Downstairs, Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel are worriedly discussing Aziraphale and the upcoming apocalypse, until the angel in question appears on the mezzanine, chiming in with some authoritative, reassuring statement. Between his outfit, demeanour and wings, he cuts a very impressive figure; the effect might have been undercut by an uncertain wobble as he starts to go down the stairs, but Crowley deftly draws attention away from that while going backwards down the staircase ahead of Aziraphale, reassuring him along the lines of, "I'll catch you if you fall." Once down, Aziraphale is businesslike in corralling Team Ineffable to help scrub out the summoning circle and prepare for the re-casting of the wards. When the time comes for him and Crowley to actually perform that particular miracle, though, he hesitates, remembering everything that happened as a result of the last joint miracle. Gabriel picks up on this and points out that this time around, there's absolutely no need to be clandestine -- and given that the super-subtle hiding miracle clocked a game-breaking 25 Lazarii, he personally is very interested to see what this one'll do. Buoyed up by this, the Ineffable Husbands set to the working with a will, creating a fairly epic lightshow!

Cut to Heaven, where the miracle detection system goes interestingly berserk and then explodes.

Cut back to the Bookshop, where Aziraphale is leaning slightly on Crowley and making his way to his comfy chair as all the angel-adrenaline of the past few days finally presents its bill.

Shenanigans happen! Team Ineffable and their human allies do awesome things! The Second Coming is a damp squib because so many angels and demons refuse to play along! The whole rotten house of cards gets torn down! Jesus nopes out of the whole mess and leaves the Ineffable Husbands with a means of contacting him, along with an offer to do their wedding catering pro bono! Mysteries are resolved in the most positive way possible! All the other weirdness is explained! The Ineffable Husbands talk about stuff! The Metatron is permanently banished to an inescapable plane where he can do nothing except tread barefoot on Lego and sharpened metal d4s for all eternity! Crowley gets to ask questions of God and Aziraphale gets to call Her out in detail for being so fuckin' awful, treating people as things, condoning so much cruelty in service of a never-explained Plan and calling it 'love'! She offers to marry them then and there, but they both refuse because that feels too much like an offer of Heaven's approval on Heaven's terms, not theirs! (and so on and so forth)

A few nights later, Aziraphale and Crowley head to the roof of the bookshop. Crowley fishes out a sheaf of notes and sketches which he's been working on for the past week or so, sets them floating and flirtatiously asks Aziraphale for an assist with the night's planned miracle. Aziraphale (knowing exactly what's needed because Crowley's been consulting with him closely regarding tonight's hijinks) sets a miraculous filter over London that cancels out all of the light pollution without messing with the working of the streetlights and so on. As the sky becomes a glorious Bortle class 1 panorama, he hugs Crowley from behind and they both pop their wings as Crowley calls down cosmic dust from one of his nebulae and gets to work on it, making a ring. Once done, he turns to Aziraphale and stutters and mumbles at length, forgetting his planned speech now that it comes time to give it. He eventually finds some sort of words and goes down on one knee, offering the ring. Aziraphale is happy-squeeing and wiggling so hard he can barely put his acceptance into coherent words, but Crowley finally puts the ring on his finger and they proceed to snog each other senseless. After about five or ten minutes, a cork whizzes past their heads, close enough to ruffle their hair, and they look over the parapet to see the Whickber Street Traders breaking out the champagne, evidently having figured out what was going on treating it as something worth celebrating.

The next day, #DameVeraLynn is trending and Berkeley Square is playing host to an impromptu convention of very confused bird-watchers and breathlessly excited BBC reporters. Because the Whickber Street Traders are taking the view that 'if the Bookshop's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'', so the Ineffable Fiances don't find out until mid afternoon, when Mr Arnold drops by with the ornithological gossip and a brochure of upcoming concerts at the Royal Albert Hall. Other engagement presents come in from the Whickber Street Traders over the next day or two -- tiramisu brownies from Mrs Sandwich (her special extra-boozy recipe) for example, and a stack of Steeleye Span records from Maggie (Cam Ye O'er Frae France [one of my audio-stimmy faves], Thomas the Rhymer, The Making of a Man [Pterry's favourites], Gaudete [super appropriate for GO in like 3 different ways], The Dark Morris Song [my top favourite]), who thought Aziraphale might like them even if they're not his usual thing.

A few days later, Saraquel comes to the Bookshop having finally finished cleaning up in what's left of Heaven -- and immediately bounces off the restored wards. Trying not to be visibly intimidated by Aziraphale's obvious annoyance as he opens the doors, she requests entry, but he flatly denies her, icicles dripping from every phoneme. "You are directly complicit in the attempted or actual murder by ego-death of thousands of angels and two instances of attempted omnicide. You stole my memories and tried to squash me out of existence twice; don't you dare try to pretend you were being merciful there. You were perfectly happy to try to murder two of my neighbours who I consider valued friends. Your bridges are burned, Saraquel. You are not welcome here. Leave Earth of your own volition and never return, or Crowley and I will eject you by force." He takes Crowley's hand in preparation for a joint miracle, and Saraquel is alarmed enough to flee immediately (Michael and Dagon, lurking and observing in the background, wisely decide to bugger off to Betelgeuse rather than test the Ineffables' patience further). Aziraphale quietly closes the Bookshop doors and leans shakily on them and Crowley.

Cut to the Ineffable Wedding! It's a handfasting at Tadfield Manor, with the former Sister Mary Loquacious officiating. The occasion is very well-attended -- the Whickber Street Traders, Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell, Anathema and Newt, the Them, the entirety of Aziraphale's old platoon (who adapt the tradition of forming a sabre arch for the newlyweds to walk under), Gabriel and Beelzebub are in attendance, with Muriel as Best Person. The catering is being ably handled by a cheerful guy who seems to produce amazing food and drink out of nowhere, the reception playlist is delightfully varied, and a good time is had by all! The Ineffables take a breather in the Bentley afterwards to let the fact that they did it properly sink in, then hold meaningful eye contact for about five seconds before smooching passionately and driving off to their honeymoon.

At a certain South Downs cottage, on an early summer evening -- there's a garden full of fruit and vegetables and herbs and spices and flowers. Aziraphale brings tea and cakes out to a neat little table on the patio as Crowley finishes intimidating the climbing roses on his mini-observatory and sashays over, pausing to pluck an apple from the tree. They share it as they appreciate their freedom to be truly together, as well as how far they've come since making that nebula...

[Pan up to sunset over picturesque landscape, roll credits]

***

Whoof, that was a bit of a marathon! As I said at the start, I doubt most if any of the events recounted above are going to happen in Season Three, but my brain does tend to run away and do its own thing! For what it's worth, what I think is *likely* to happen in S3 is a combination of elements of The Magic Trick You Didn't See (especially the burning-cinema-screen in the opening sequence as a pointer to memories/data files being corrupted and restored from backup) and @vidavalor's terrifyingly plausible and well-grounded hypothesis that Final-Fifteen!Metatron is actually Satan, Aziraphale has capital-F Fallen and is going to start S3 amnesiac and in Hell. (The Great Balls Of Fire meta dropped when I was partway through writing this post, and on that basis my brain has careened off in an entirely different direction XD) *meep* I guess we'll just have to exspecta videque!

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fic #fanfiction #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #speculation

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bubuslutty · 1 year ago

Text

Skin & Bones

Frank Castle's masterlist

pairing: frank castle x skinny!fem reader (platonic or romantic? who knows)

word count: 1.5k

tags: fluff, 3rd person pov, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as darling/Frank's darling, insecurities, body image, poc friendly, sfw

warnings: none

summary: Frank's darling is petite, skinny, scrawny, whatever you want to call her. Frank can easily break her in half if he wanted. She might be strong and incredibly intelligent, but nobody is absolutely safe from feeling insecure from time to time.

a/n: uhhh I wrote this cuz I was feeling insecure abt the way I looked, I don't feel that way a lot but sometimes I do and I hate it. and I just wanted to write Frank to provide some comfort to reader. that's all 💙

Everyone has insecurities. Some more than others. Some know how to cope with them, and others don't. And God help you if you were a woman born into this world, because every made up insecurity under the sun will be shoved down your throat, or they will try at least, to make you feel like shit and buy whatever product they're claiming will change your life and solve all of your problems.

Frank noticed a lot of things, and lately he's been noticing how his darling stares a bit too long at the women around them.

He hears her sigh once in a while when she's alone, and he watches how her smiles start to dim and how much quieter she becomes, lost in her thoughts.

He notices how her eyes sparkle and shine in admiration and awe when they're hanging out with Karen. And he sure does hear her ramble and talk about how beautiful and cool Karen is when they're in the car, on their way home.

But then she would lock herself in her room and he wouldn't hear a single sound from her, except when he knocks on her door to call her to come and eat.

His darling, so intelligent and pretty, who, in his eyes, belongs in a painting, hung in a Museum, rather than with him, stained with blood and dirt, the ghosts of every person he's killed attached to him like a disease.

And yet, here she is, helping him take out any scum they believed needed to be gone. She investigates, looks for clues, interrogates before he goes to interrogate whoever they're holding captive, hacks whatever needs to be hacked, orders new weapons and ammunition and is the face of their little weird twisted family. She's the one who speaks at the bank when they need to open another account under fake identities. She's the one who sweet talks them out of sticky situations without having him break someone's nose or windpipe. She's the one who negotiates for their benefit.

But she's also the one who's used as bait to catch killers with fetishes, predators and disgusting scums. She's the one who distracts and deceives while Frank is handing out tickets to the afterlife like free sweets behind her smile, staining the back of her legs and slim neck with fresh blood.

And when they're all done for the day, she helps stitch him up, helps clean up their equipment, cooks something to eat when she has a bit of energy, and on days she can't get herself to make anything, she orders them something nice to eat.

More often than not, they'll end up on the sofa, in fresh pajamas and eating while watching a random show, and then Frank would fall asleep and his head would roll to the side, resting on her shoulder. Darling would pet his dark short hair and slowly push his heavy head away, and try to wake him up so he'll sleep on his bed instead.

This is just a glimpse of what their life consists of, but let's all come back to the beginning; insecurities.

Frank's darling is petite, skinny, scrawny, whatever you want to call her. She's shorter than him, her arms are long and he can hold both of her wrists with one hand with ease, he could practically break her if he wanted.

On most days, she was comfortable in her skin, making peace with the fact that no matter what she ate, or how much she ate, her body remained the same. Sometimes she would bang her hip bone with a table and hiss, and sometimes she wouldn't be able to open things or support the weight of certain guns with one hand alone, and that was alright, because Frank was there to do it for her. There were many things Frank could do, but also a lot of things he couldn't do.

Frank would notice how annoyed she becomes when they're out shopping for clothes, and no pair of jeans would fit around her waist, infuriating her. But that was alright, he would grab her hand and walk straight to the next store, to get her a pair of jeans that would fit as intended.

Even bulletproof vests have to be tightened a lot, especially when she has to wear one, but no worries, Frank would be there to adjust the size for her when need be.

"Hey," Frank knocked on her bedroom's door, which was already wide open.

Darling looked up from her position on the bed, she was curled up in the middle against the headboard, wrapped in a blanket and hugging one of her pillows to her chest. And Frank could practically smell the upset oozing out of her.

"Frank?" She said in a quiet voice, smiling a bit.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Darling scooted a bit to the side and allowed Frank to sit next to her, making sure his boots didn't touch her clean bedsheets, staying on the ground.

"What's wrong?" He asked, not looking at her, instead at the random clothes and objects scattered around her room.

"Nothing really, just feeling a bit weird that's all." She shrugged, hugging her pillow closer to her chest.

"Hm, weird." Frank repeated, nodding once and scratching his chin.

"Yeah, just… feeling weird." She repeated, glancing at him.

"D'you wanna talk about it?" He offered, now properly turning his head to look straight at her, his eyes showing nothing but safety, Frank’s safe, he's safe-

Darling thought about it for a long time and nodded, pressing her body closer to his, trying to hide somehow. And he threw an arm over her shoulder, squeezing her tight against him.

"Do you– Do you think I'm pretty?" She whispered and Frank was a bit taken back.

"Of course," Frank said without hesitation.

Darling looked at him without saying anything, and sighed, "Are you saying that because you're a gentleman or do you really mean it? It's alright, I won't be offended if you don't think so, because I still will be more good looking than you, at least."

Frank cracked a smile and chuckled, "I'm being honest, I think you're very pretty, I won't lie to you."

"Okay," Darling whispered, nodding, "But do you think I'm too skinny?..."

Now, Frank frowned at that, "What's wrong with being skinny?"

"I don't know? Maybe because I'm not that strong, I'm not really– I'm not really curvy like most women and I don't know– Maybe I want to be a bit bigger?-" Darling rambled, avoiding eye contact with him and fiddling with her fingers.

"Beautiful, the way you look doesn't matter unless it affects your health, trust me." Frank said, cupping one of her cheeks and turning her face so he could make her look at him.

"I know, but sometimes I wished I had bigger hips, y'know? Maybe more fat under my skin, and maybe I wanted bigger boobs as well? I feel so much smaller and like- like puberty skipped me or something! And it's unfair! I want to look like other women as well-" Darling said, eyes shining with unshed tears as Frank watched her panic and hold her head in her hands as if that was an absolute catastrophe to have skinny hips and small boobs.

"Come on, stop with that bullshit." Frank gently scolded.

"You know it's true, Karen is so beautiful, she's so stunning and I look like a teenage boy." Darling said, now actually crying.

Frank's heart dropped a bit and he immediately collected her in his arms, rubbing her back in an attempt to sooth her.

"Let me tell you something, you're perfect just the way you are. Your body is constantly changing, you won't stay the same forever, you know that, right?" Frank said against her temple as she clutched tight onto his black t-shirt.

"I know, but it still makes me feel like shit sometimes. I know it's stupid-" She cried against his chest, feeling even worse because her periods are due in a couple of days. So she couldn't tell if she did really feel that insecure or if the feelings were amplified by hormones.

"It's not stupid. Everyone has shit they're insecure about, but you need to know that whatever you're insecure about is just a bunch of bullshit. Nobody cares if you're not curvy, if someone likes you, they'll like whatever you look like." Frank said, patting her back.

"But what if I don't find someone that'll like me because they think I'm too skinny?" Darling whispered.

"Now that's stupid." Frank scoffed, "You won't even speak to anyone who'll prioritize the way your body looks over what's in that brain, baby."

Frank's darling's crying was now reduced to small sniffles against his chest and she slowly looked up at him, wet eyelashes, runny nose and all.

"The only thing that I like about being skinny is that you can carry me like a suitcase so I don't have to walk." She said, shyly cracking a smile when Frank laughed, "Attagirl,"

"That's my girl, you're beautiful and smart, don't let anyone try to make you think otherwise, or I'll kidnap them and their kids." Frank said, making her burst out laughing.

"Not the kids!"

"Not the kids." Frank chuckled and placed a kiss to the crown of her head, smiling in her hair and vowing to punch anyone's esophagus if they ever made his girl feel insecure about her looks.

His darling might have bony arms, a tiny waist and a bit of the outline of her ribcage can be seen everytime she stretched. She can have bony hips and hit herself against tables once in a while, no flesh or meat cushioning her hipbone. But he doesn't give a shit what she looks like.

Because he knows how beautiful she looks when she's not looking at herself in a mirror or toying with her fingers and thinking about what ifs.

He loves that she can easily wrap herself around him, like a baby koala, with her long limbs, and sleep against him. He loves that she can practically fit in many tight places that he can't fit in, so that's more places to keep her safe when shit hits the fan.

He loves that many of her opponents underestimate what she can do, resulting more often that not, in their death.

He loves how different they are, yet so similar in certain things. They both want to get rid of shitty people the justice system struggles to hold accountable. They both share a drive to survive that is completely outmatched, he'll claw his way to hell and so will she.

Frank wishes that he could help her understand the way he sees her, but he doesn't think he's that good at expressing what he really means. So as long as she's fine by his side, so is he.

thank you for reading 💙

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crying-fantasies · 1 year ago

Text

In Denial

Masterlist

Part 1 | part 2: In acceptance | part 3

Sometimes you remember the past, a younger you, one that choose seclusion in a group of people around your age with music that wasn't even to your liking in the background just to try and be part of the group, one that tried to desperately look at everyone and pray to feel something, someone that could make you feel better, feel head over heels in love, be it by physical attraction or sexual intercourse or whatever, even if it wasn't what you were really searching for you wanted to feel something more than just friendship or one single glance, zero feelings.

Younger you wanted desperately to feel attraction to humans, wanted to forget and bury deep the memories of something else as a whole, try to forget the way his voice made you red in the face or his friendly touch felt warm, make you remember over and over that he was only being friendly.

Jazz was your friend is what you tell yourself years after he returned to the neverending war, as he mournfully refered to his people's civil war, fighting for his people on earth and for the humans, coming back and forth in different countries, sometimes he didn't even say a thing and you were oblivious of his presence in Earth from time to time, sometimes he does contact you but it isn't more than a few words, talking to you about something that catched his interest, sometimes he doesn't talk and what you hear is a song, not aware of how you carry the communication device he gave years ago like a treasure and how foolish you looked in your quick movements to answer his call as fast as it's possible, don't even mention that time you kissed the floor in your hurry, Jazz is your friend when he returns, appearing as a handsome young adult in a classy and expensive car while opening his door for you, smiling just as charming as he can be while people look at such an expensive looking car, no one believing what is happening, not even you, it takes a moment to realize the little static that coils in his supposed skin and the way he is smiling.

Wow, he looks... better, as in... alive, not so much older than you.

His holoform has changed, improved, for a moment you feel relieved that you feel attraction to the image of a human but then you realize it's because of him, by the simple fact that it's him, even when you weren't sure who was in front of you.

"It's been a long time" his voice is familiar, more human if you could describe it as so.

Ah, I know you, your brain finally reacts to what is happening, connecting the dots between his autobot badge and his alt-mode, recognizing the voice that brings you years back when this kind bot tried to help time and time again, almost as he tried to mind other things, you asked him and Jazz, with all his honesty, told you that he liked to believe that other things outside of the war were also important.

Lonely child that you were then felt special, younger you realized that he only wanted to escape war for a moment, older you would try to understand him more and let go of the little anger younger you had harbored over the fact he only searched for your company then as a way of distraction.

"Ah"

Great, good thing to say after years of not seeing one another, super cool, not something that you feel proud about but he is obvious in the way his smirk extended over his face, noticing your recognition of him, while signaling you with a move of his finger to come inside.

"Thought you would use a ride home"

"Right"

Stiffness makes your way to his seat way more long than it really has to be, looking upfront in order to avoid his visor (how can he look so good with those even in human form?), never once looking to another direction, even helping you put on the seatbelt when you can't reach it in your stupor, falling in the pit on your stomach while screaming internally, he doesn't say anything about your whole body behavior, also looking forward when his original body start to drive upfront and music blooms on his speakers higher.

Recognizing that song makes you look at his dashboard where his radio is displayed for you, maybe is your imagination, he couldn't possibly remember your favorite song from so many years ago.

"This one is still a hit for you?"

He did, he really did, and that was making things to you, again.

"Not really" honesty is first, at least this much, trying to calm your fast beating heart, knowing that inside of him, in his passenger seat, every change in your biology could be scanned by his system and, right now, you don't want to explain why you feel funny in your belly.

How to tell him the nights you heard this very same song when he was away, it had been years, yes, but you can still feel tears falling in your cheeks while the song was in an almost permanent loop to the point it's own uniqueness dried up, your favorite just felt way too used, way too engraved in your brain and left his image a permanent reminder behind your closed eyes.

"That's so, well, humans have this new gadgets to hear music, we can give it a try"

Jazz is a transformer, he can do something as simple as changing music or tuning a different radio in a blink, but he still moves his holoform to reach the radio even when he doesn't have a real necessity to change the music manually, so close, to the point where you can't ignore his presence.

You couldn't, because he is all around you, feeling every moving, his engine revving, the leather seat gently vibrating under you.

"You have Bluetooth?" Before, Jazz's favorite thing about human vehicles was the music player, the while radio, apparently that didn't change, keeping his old one, now considered vintage, contrasting with his alt-mode in some sense of fashion.

"I've got nice things along the years" his words make way for a song, then another and so on, if this was any other person or bot you would suspect of how long this drive is taking, pretty sure that you aren't going to be near your house for a while, yet, this is Jazz, it isn't the first time that he took you in these improvised outings relaying on the setting sun to cover him from curious eyes.

Everything is fine with the world, at least your inner one, finally relaxing and feeling the seat, looking outside the window, your heart calm with every song, he still can't calm his hunger for the 80's but still playing a variety of genders, maybe trying to go the extra mile while looking at you from his holoform point of view, attention in your reaction with every song that comes and goes.

"When did you come back?"

"Um, been 'round for a few cycles already" maybe he tries to play it cool, but his holoform looks to his own side for the first time in the whole ride, showing that, maybe, he returned way before.

You don't ask him why he didn't come to you before, at least a call, something to make you know, but you don't say anything and maybe his processor catches on to your change, on your distant sigh and the drop of your shoulders, probably, and his holoform is looking at you before pressing a finger to his radio.

"Jazz"

"Um?"

"Are you okay?" Is that a loaded question? Maybe it is, you aren't such a fool to ignore what others say of the aliens around, it doesn't help how Jazz was even present in a program that somehow ended with a full negative message for cybertronians.

It shouldn't be a surprise to see Jazz's holomatter stiffness, or how he takes a few seconds to move again once the red light has changed, you didn't mention the particular incident but the problem was obviously there.

And also the reason of why he got to look out for you when he didn't before.

"Yeah, everything is fine, nothing wrong in here" he is lying, painfully obvious as it can be, you aren't sure if he is doing it because he has had enough with that and wants to change the subject or if he really thought you'll fall with such a ridiculous lie.

Silence is something that he gets to like, but not with you looking worried, that's his job, he's the one to worry about what is happening on earth, with the humans and with you since the moment he got you into the ark, he'll forever deny it but he just couldn't let you alone in the middle of nowhere, but dragging you from one country to another wasn't his best move so far and he accepted it solar cycles ago.

Still, he can't just let you alone with all that's happening, just look at what happened with Hunter, but he isn't going to tell you such a thing, he needs to get you distracted.

He remembers, like it was a solar cycle ago, music is something that could reach out to you, even with all the differences, guiding you to meet him at least halfway in what you were feeling and what he could interpret from it, as it has always been.

Yet, when that song started to play it took you a second to recognize it and one more to realize it.

Maybe he took the acceleration of you heart beat as something good, smiling, even getting the volume higher, his system telling him how fast your heart was going and being happy by your supposed positive reaction, reality was far from it by the chord progression of a song that you know way too well for your own liking.

"Heh, didn't know that you were into grunge now" no drop of judgement can be heard in his voice, is strange, hearing it come from a mouth, from a human that is supposed to be him, maybe it's that, you finally realize, it's not because of what he is, but of who he is.

That only makes it worse.

This song, while a hit for many is almost a shootout to your inner turmoil, exposing you in front of the very last living being that you wanted, this song, one that you know way too well, one that accompanied you in lonely nights or ones when you wished to be alone, trying to forget when things were better.

"Pretty good" you aren't sure if he really likes it or tries to do it, Jazz is the kind of bot that even now thinks highly of radio interference, in reality he is only trying to go with the flow of the song, every song has a meaning even when there is none, he's always liked human music for that very reason.

He isn't going to lie to you and if he does he may have a good reason for it, or that's what you want to believe, if he doesn't like it he would simply say that it's not his preference, and you don't know if he is implying his liking of it because of you or because he wants to take the bait and expose you.

After all this years keeping your own secret while your tendency to read between lines gets you to another level of anxiety.

How odd the world can be when he noticed, once again, the way that humans get old, tastes change, views of their own world, even you, still little but with an additional growth spurt since the last time that he saw you, heart beating fast for this song.

Couldn't look you in the eye

Maybe it's your favorite now.

"Stop"

How wrong he is.

"What?"

And how wrong you feel with every word and chord.

"Jazz, stop"

What would others tell you? What would he tell you if he knew?

The mere idea of him taking distance from you got feelings of despair, right, there was this time, multiple instances in reality, in where you didn't see or know much of him when war was again on his way and he really acted like you were nice company, only to leave you behind when things got harder, you understood, of course, but how do you feel with it at the end of the day?

It was a cycle without a break, and your fear for it to end, to never see him again was enough to make you open his door, at least try, Jazz was fast enough to close it again before parking next to the road, he wanted to talk to you, ask what was wrong, expecting your sincerity as always, but you were already on your own way before he could change to his bipedal form, holomatter dissipating in flashes of light, you were walking but your fast beating heart took you away way more sooner than he expected.

"Is everything alright?" he reached his servos out to you, trying to hold you as it was normal to that point, stopping altogether when you flinched away from him even before he got to touch you, and it was indeed painful even for you when his intake closed and what looked like a frown and a sad expression crossed his faceplate.

"It's not" sincerity is what you always gave him and you don't want to change that, one thing is to lie and keep a fact for yourself is a totally different matter.

Jazz looks at you, not knowing what is wrong and trying to think what he is going to say next, he knows you're in a thigh spot due to the changes going around your own life, physically and mentally, he remembers how humans go, but this is so different from what he expected.

You are different from what he can remember.

He tries to appear less intimidating to you, who looks like the first time he got in contact with- no, it's more accurate to say that you found him by sheer coincidence, he is now kneeling, reaching out a helping servo but not entering your personal space, he waits for you to get closer to him.

"I could help ya, try to ease your burden"

"I want you to take me home"

In a beautiful world

Being sincere, Jazz expected for this outing to go different, he even got his holomatter avatar upgraded in order to take you into the city and don't raise an uproar, take you out to eat something nice and watch you do it with a smile on his face, he even go a little extra in order to upgrade his avatar with eyes that would look more real, more alive.

Still, he feels his natural confidence waiver a little with your words, your whole body tense to his own presence, changing to his alt-mode and opening his door for you, he reamins still for all the time it takes for you to open his back seat's door, surprising him, asking himself if he really did something so bad to have this results and how to change it.

And he remembers, music, you have always been responsive to music, to songs, what's better, he knows what your favorite song is now.

I wanna have control

He learns faster than ever that he is wrong, all this day he's been wrong since the moment he got to you to forget his problems as always and expecting to forget about those in your presence, failing in doing that and failing you in the process, even feeling awful when he hears the words in the song with detailed anxiety that isn't normal in him but keeps scaling with every beat of your heart from the moment you take place in his seat to the moment he parked on front of your home, opening his door faster and going out before he can say something, anything to you who only said "sorry" before walking to your door.

She is running out

Music has always been what connects people or bots, you told him that when you found him for the first time, damaged but online, his radio malfunctioning and dragging along a radio station, your favorite song at that time blasting in a weird way from his speakers.

Music connected people, feelings and ideas.

Whatever makes you happy

That's what Jazz repeats in his processor when you don't respond the communicator he gave you years ago, he knows it's kind of low, he didn't used it usually for years when war took him away from where you were and he knows that it's even worse to admit that he forgot about it.

He doesn't know if you'd even say sorry again if he admitted he kind of forgot about you for what felt like a few cycles when in reality it had been years for you, Jazz wouldn't be surprised if he was confronted by your anger.

He begins to think of reasons as to why you don't take on his calls, maybe you forgot how to use it, he told you about it almost years ago and it would be normal to forget about it, the idea that maybe you lost it is also valid even when it pains him a little, because it was a gift, as farfetched as it can be, he requested it with you in mind, only responsive to your DNA just in case to prevent any human from getting their hands in cybertronian technology, but he knows that humans change, he gets it and he would understand if you lost it or damaged it.

He isn't even surprised when you keep on missing his calls, what takes him for surprised is when he calls you, expecting for the line to end as always, he is near to recharge in his berth only to hear in the middle of the night cycle how the call is refused from your side.

Whatever you want

He finally accepts what you say and gives up on it, for now at best, he still wants to talk to you, he still wants to spend time together here on Earth, basking in the moment of peace that's so rare, before something happens and when it does, one of his pledges to Primus is for you to take on his call so he can talk to you, maybe for the last time, say goodbye due to what is going to happen soon, a massive space body reaching earth, getting near by the second.

You're so fucking special

You know this is low, but you really want to keep distance right now, quite curious, not even a year ago you wished to hop back in his passenger seat, relishing in fantasies of physical touch that you'll feel as endearing, people start to cry out in the streets, they're running, trying to escape, classes are ended and even your teacher tries to get all out.

I wish I was special

The moment you get out you wish to get back, feet almost floating above ground when you see a thing in the sky, approaching, you want to go home, run like the people around you, but you only stay there even when your hair starts to levitate too, even your clothes, people is sucked to whatever that thing is.

Maybe is not that bad, something dark in your minds tells you in all the panic that wrapped the whole place in near massive hysteria, bloodied screams asking for help.

I'm a weirdo

Jazz tries to contact you more than once, specially hearing what is coming, what is really happening.

He can hardly wait for an order when worldwide news show the first countries overshadowed by Unicron's massive body, people starting to be dragged out to space, he wants to go there, he wants you pick up the line, he wants to get you out if there when the reporter keeps naming the countries under attack on an almost neverending list.

Earth is succumbing, people that don't die in the exposition to Unicron are being hunted down by it's monstrosities, but Jazz has to remain calm, he always needs to be, he has to recognize and hear his orders, he has to make it possible when a plan is given to him and he needs to act upon it.

What the hell am I doing here?

For a moment, he really wished to never have put a pede on Earth, to never have been sent here, to never have been in contact with humanity with all it's good and bad things, every good and bad decision done he wants to go back and erase it, to never have meet you and know you, is all happening again, his life was good, not perfect but it was good, and he cherished it as hard as he could, just to have it once again be ripped off, torn apart, destroyed to it's very core like war once did, now loosing what he has now makes him realize that he can't accept it, his spark can't take it when your country is finally announced on the list of points destroyed by Unicron.

He wants to call you, he really wants, at least to say goodbye, to hear your voice for the last time and say sorry for whatever he did, he wants to have hope in all this mess, but he admits his hope is practically a dim light when in place of the call being in wait or denied on your side he only gets radio silence, Jazz can almost see your communication device destroyed and being dragged out to space.

I don't belong here

He can't bear the silence, he liked it so much before, a moment of peace in-between the never ending war, so he plays your favorite song in his audial receptors, feeling tears falling from his visor when he has to take a gun again while the lyrics are engraved on his being and his spark hums along with the chords, he knows it's wishful thinking, but Jazz wished to destroy Unicron's spark or whatever it's keeping it alive with his bare servos.

I don't belong here

Jazz wished you were there, telling him that things would get better.

#reader insert #x reader #angst #tf mtmte #transformers x reader #jazz x human reader #jazz x reader #tf jazz #transformers idw #idw transformers #idw jazz #transformers fanfiction #tf Hunter

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newartistgirl · 2 years ago

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Lu little details (1)

It’s the little details what make me hallucinate every single time there’s an update. Now, eventhough I may forget plenty of the ones I noticed while reading or thinking through (and some other I might have missed), I’m gonna try to list some of them.

Im going to focus more on reference-to-games details not little details about the dynamics between the group.

1. The first posts actually are full of references. Like really full. It would be endless to point out all of them. (Twilight and the soup, Legend and the seagulls, time being the one talking to the fairy, different views of the princess, Wind and the soup too, Twilight quoting Rusl (It’s not the only time), Legend thinking of “a separete world”) My favourite, probably, is Wind asking for Kaepora to repete what he had said. In this category I might add everything she took under consideration when decicing not just their personalities but also even their ages, and all the answers to some questions, being actually incredible the fact that Twi is ambidextrous (Tbh i don’t know what’s actually more impressive, the fact that jojo carefuly has in mind the dominant hand of each Link or the fact that someone, actually managed to notice Twilight would change hands) (Maybe I was not paying attention) (Now, I’m wondering if that drawing of Time shooting it was intentional. Because, if you look carefully, he is actually holding it like a right handed person would)

2. Wild not knowing about wallmasters. This is the most obvious and straight to the point one of the boys having lived in different Hyrules and having had different adventures, however, in the comics that follow the stroryline you can also get from what they say several times hints of this exact same thing. Anyway, my favourite example of this is Sky asking who Ganon was.

3. I would add here the different opinions of the Links on different matters (I’ve already mentioned the different views Hyrule and Wild have on the princess). Another example of this would be Wild and Wind “arguing” about Kings of Hyrule. It makes so much sense. (I’m not gonna go down that opinion/personlity lane, but it’s worth mentioning) And Twilight and Legend complaining about knights, all based on the game experiences.

4. That image of Twilight holding a puppy and Wild, completely unbothered, next to him. I really like that kind of sense of humour, and it’s a funny tiny irrelevant detail that I very much appreciate.

5. Warriors referencing his game. I think it’s happened three times. First, when they are talking and he hides himself from a lady and Hyrule laughs at him saying it’s the third time he’s done that, because being a lady’s man has already been proven as a danger .Second time, with the traitor little comic (I missed that one, ups). And third, while talking about the master sword and how “believing you are invencible” it’s a dangerous way of thinking. I know all Links actually make references to their respective games, but some other references feel more remarkable.

6. I almost forget about it. That conversation between Time and Wild about having entered Gerudo Town is another example of diference between the Links. It’s just that this one has a special place in my mind merely because I had never actually thought of that and it’s in fact wonderful how Wild reacts to hearing Time’s approach into granting himself respect and access to the town. Similar to this, due to the fact that it’s straight up linked to Wild, we have that scene where the gerudo outfit is descovered and he gets teased. (Fun fact; I had no actual clue that goron spice was actually a cooking item in botw until I red this. I had never shopped in the Goron City. And yeah, either I had already beaten Ganon or I was about to)

7. In Lon Lon Ranch, as expected, we also have several references. Being the most noticeable; Malon explaining Hyrule wht they keep sugar water bowls around, the couple’s mask hanging on the wall, or how sky loves cuccos. (A little also “innocent” one may be that Malon straight up mocks her husband’s nose? Being this a reference to the design of the hero of Time)

8. One that I also skipped (and very much love) is Twilight seeing some kind of resemblance between Time’s Captain’s hat and the Heroe’s Shade. We also see more Majora’s Mask references, being maybe the most obvious one Time saying: “Poor kid... He met a terrible fate”. Like, I can hear the Salesman’s laugh.

I`m gonna leave it here for now evethough there are plenty more nice details that show the attention to detail of this comics. However, maybe it’s better to divide this into more defined categories, such as the different games or even characters. And maybe, that way, I can stress how much I appreciate some of those, because, let me tell you that I could rant on about every single one of this nonstop, specially if it’s related to who they are as characters. There’s in my opinion just too many good things to say about this guys and how the whole group works.

(please, correct any spelling mistake. I’m not a native speaker)

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe rant #lu rambles #Lu rants #lu #lu time #LU Twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu sky #LU Malon

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x-manson-annotated · 4 months ago

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X-Manson Annotated Chapter 5 - Part One: INFILTRATORS.

Holy shit, the final chapter. This is where I really like a lot of concepts. The Avengers make a proper appearance and everyone's favorite sapphic Carol Danvers has a shitty time. See the reblogged version for the rest of it, since Tumblr has a limit on only 30 images.

If i'm not mistaken, this places the year that Kitty is watching the documentary as 2000 whereas before it said "Present Day" or "Today" . This places Kitty and Dani at probably 23 and 26 respectively.

**Dwight Hammer, like all cops is a goddamn moron.

Paid Schill.

1999 the y ear of the raid? Xavier's psychics forcing people to confess to murders that they didn't commit?

*I'm not sure if Dolores is a reference to someone special or just a filler character.

**I don't know why the spelling of her name with the 'e'. I've looked at multiple versions of the story and that detail remains in all of them.

**ALIENS EXIST IN THE CULT AU.

Motherfucking Carol Danvers!

*I'm not totally sure if that's something Supergirl used to be like.

** Rogue. I'm not sure who the intelligence agency is, since SHIELD seems to be a known quantity in the world.

*** That isn't really a thing she's known for either.

*Carole uses that very insistent phrase "the Kree that fucked me up". In the comics, she gained her abilities from an explosion that mixed her DNA with Mahr-Vel. So, is it possible in this au the Kree intentionally experimented on her?

**Pretty green eyes convince Carole Danvers that Rogue isn't a tech. Gay as hell behavior, champ.

***Further gay behavior. Much less traumatic loss of her powers as opposed to what happened to her in the comics.

*This is referencing her lesbianism within the story. I don't know if this is Benway's potentially homophobic perspective on Carole's sexuality, or if it's meant to be a purely in-universe sense of present homophobia.

Rogue's Mom, Destiny is being a cryptic old biddy. She's present twice the story, but Mystique isn't. Maybe she died a while back after some encounter with the cult, resulting in Rogue being sent in as an agent. But, that's just my headcanon.

*See.

**Rogue gave Carole a type.

**Why didn't she decay? Because of Carole's powers?

***Destiny was able to see that Carole was going to fuck her shit up by kissing Rogue's corpse, but not that Rogue would get murdered? Like, c'mon, that's your daughter.

*I might be right.

**I'm so fucking sick of Vance taking every single incorrect lesson from his life. Of course, she was angry, Vance. She was in near-constant pain, you unbearable prick.

***Probably doesn't help that she was being cryptic about what happened.

*I still love how angry he is with American spy agencies.

*Possibly this universe's version of Freedom Force?

Xavier loaning out cult members for odd jobs?

*Sorry HOXPOX fans, Moira isn't a mutant.

**So that's where they're potentially filling up their ranks?

***My immediate thought was Gambit both because of the title and the New Orleans connection. This might also be Amahl Farouk, who has a history of employing pickpockets, but he was based in Egypt. Though, I don't want to discount him totally because of my biased headcanon.

*Tracking the cult's activity from the ground up. But, how is the cult going to all of these places constantly? How far spread are they outside of Westchester?

** Nice to know that Black Tom exists in this au. Hope he and Cain have a summer cottage together somewhere on the coast where they can grow old together, far away from any of this cult horseshit.

Spain

Morocco

Romania

Hungary

Yugoslavia

Westchester, New York.

So, Sean was likely trying to infiltrate them after making contact in Yugoslavia and then ended up being inducted into the cult, proper.

That is so goddamn scary it's unreal.

*was their a psi on the isles manipulating the local Interpol agents? Can Xavier or Cable stretch their influence that far?

*Rahne Sinclair

*I just now noticed that Terry in this story is eleven. My god. That's an especially horrifying ordeal at that age.

*if Sean was pleading, it's possible that either they didn't have him under psychic control yet (not coring him) or the distance allowed the connection to break. But who else is with Logan that's coercing Sean into action?

*She could tell almost immediately that Rahne was a mutant and not some kind of freakish dog.

The river to confuse Logan's tracking ability?

*Rahne's home in the woods.

*They don't see her transform in the dark, but she can take on a human or at least human adjacent shape. Rahne Sinclair is a saint.

First Voice, Unknown.

Second Voice, Logan.

*My first instinct was that this is Sean, but Moira would have clarified if it were. Maybe it's Cable or Piotr?

**Rahne can take on a human shape, but is functionally feral and cant understand human language.

*Logan's voice again.

**Cars everywhere. Some of them look burned. Sunfire? Is the second voice Sunfire?

*Christ alive, they massacred ten whole police officers and special forces agents.

Logan sticking around to threaten the family by leaving shreadded vehicles around? Why not murder them?

#marvel #fanfiction #x men #xmen #x men 97 #annotations #x-men #Rahne Sinclair #Theresa cassidy #sean cassidy #carol danvers #captain marvel #ms marvel #moira mactaggert #Rogue #anna marie darkholme #anna marie lebeau #fanfiction analysis

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goodgifswithfreetoolschallenge · 1 year ago

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Best Practices for Quality/Best Visual Result When Uploading Gifs to Tumblr

NO MATTER WHAT METHOD YOU USE TO MAKE GIFS

Whether you screencap gifs and load them into GIMP or 🏴‍☠️ Photoshop, or screencapture and output with Giphy or ScreenToGif, or grab clips and load them into a video editor and then export as GIF, or use ezgif.com, or make your gifs on a command line, here are some of my personal practices (so far) to get the best visual quality from your gifs!

1) If you plan to have gifs in a single column orientation, scale them to be exactly 540 pixels wide.

Or at least do your best! 540 px is the width that single-column oriented images on Tumblr will snap to (unless they are very very small).

If your image is smaller than 540 px wide and you try to put it into a 1 column orientation, Tumblr will scale it up to 540 pixels for you (unless it is VERY small), but your gif/image only has so many pixels—fewer pixels than the size Tumblr is trying to snap it to! So when Tumblr scales it up, your gif will probably look very blurry or fuzzy!

Even if your image is larger than 540 px wide and Tumblr has to scale it down, you may notice (though the difference will not be as intense) that Tumblr does not do as good of a job at scaling your image down to 540 pixels as the software you use to make your gifs does! Scaling your gif down to 540 pixels wide yourself will also reduce its file size!

You can see all the pixel dimensions for the different Tumblr image orientations here!

I have not found, in all cases, that this same advice about scaling down produces noticeable differences for gifs in 2 or 3 column orientations uploaded with widths larger than 268 and 177 pixels wide respectively (though it definitely still matters when scaling up). However, if you know you want to upload your gifs in one of these orientations, do be aware that you could scale them down to those widths to reduce your file size if you need to—just don't make them any smaller than 268 or 177 pixels wide respectively or they are going to be very blurry!

2) Be thoughtful about aspect ratio.

Aspect ratio refers to the width versus the height of your image. For example, if you have a 1920 x 1080p video, that is a 16:9 aspect ratio (the height of the video is is 9/16ths of the width of the video, or 1920/16*9 = 1080). You can see what many common aspect ratios look like in the image below.

Image source

Many videos you'll want to gif will start out in a 16:9 aspect ratio. However, if you upload your gifs with that 16:9 aspect ratio, even in a 1 column orientation, your subjects will often look very small, and the frame may contain objects taking up valuable pixels that could have been used to show more details of the subject you actually wanted people to see!

As an example, consider these two versions of the same frame:

The first image is in its original 16:9 aspect ratio, while the second image has been cropped to a 1:1 (square) aspect ratio (and both have been scaled down to 540 px wide before upload—no sharpening effects or anything). When the first image is scaled down to 540 pixels wide, many of those meager pixels end up being taken over by dark shadows in the left and right sides of the frame! When I crop inward to only capture my subject (Dean) and then scale to 540 pixels, Dean gets to take up those pixels instead, so not only is he closer to the eye so it's easier to see what's going on with him, but he also gets more of those meager pixels all to himself, resulting in finer detail!

Sometimes, you may still want or need a 16:9 aspect ratio, for example, if your subjects are very far apart in the original footage like in this gif I made as the header for a gif set:

But if you can crop to a 3:2 or 4:3 aspect ratio (or even a 1:1 aspect ratio) without part of your subject falling out of frame, it's definitely worth doing so!

Your best practices would be:

Try and use rectangular aspect ratios wider than they are tall only in 1 column orientations (16:9, 4:3, 3:2, etc). If you use them in two or three column orientations, all your gifs will seem very small and short and will be hard to see.

For 2 and 3 column sets, always use square gifs or gifs taller than they are wide (1:1, 2:3, 3:4, etc). This will give you the largest possible gifs in these orientations with the most detail on your subjects.

For 2 and 3 column sets, make sure two images planned to go side by side have the same aspect ratio. If they don't have the same aspect ratio, the "taller" gif will have its top and bottom "cropped" by Tumblr to fit beside the other gif in the set so they are the same width and height. This is especially undesirable if you have captioned your gif, as your captions may end up being cut off.

3) Order of operations matters!

For the finest finish, you almost always want to do operations on your gifs as you make them in the following order (when possible):

Cropping.

Color adjustments (when available).

Scaling.

Captioning.

Sharpening (when available).

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helmetjellyfish · 9 hours ago

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hello! this post is going to be a little different from anything i've written before, because today we're looking at fish.

this fish, to be exact.

this fish is one of the many prehistoric creatures we see in minato's dreams from ch. 48. the translation team did a wonderful job identifying several creatures and explaining them in general, but i haven't seen any specific discussion about this one yet. so i figured i'd talk about what i think this fish is and what i think it represents.

the rest of this post will be under the cut, because there's lots of images and it's going to get quite long. here we go!

so what fish is this?

let's start by looking at these three images for reference:

(you may have noticed that the head shape of the fish in the first image is a bit different from the one in the second. however, since the rest of their bodies are very, very similar to each other, i'm assuming that they are intended to be the same fish and the head shape of the second one is closer to the 'correct' bodyplan.)

to begin with, we can see that the fins are attached to the body with these fleshy lobes, meaning that this fish is probably a "lobe-finned fish" belonging to the clade Sarcopterygii.

Sarcopterygii can be split up into three more clades:

Actinistia - the coelacanths and their close relatives

Dipnoi - the lungfishes and their close relatives

Tetrapodomorpha - the tetrapods (four-limbed vertebrates) and their close relatives

just based on morphology, we can narrow it down to Actinistia. so coelacanths! the thing with coelacanths is that one of their most notable characteristics is their weird tail:

this is a replica of the West Indian Ocean coelacanth (Latimeria chalumnae), which is one of the two species alive today. here you can see that the tail is split up into three lobes: the top and bottom lobes are the same width and length, while the one in the middle is smaller and protrudes further out. their tail is diphycercal, which means that the vertebrae extend all the way to the tip of the tail and the tail itself is symmetrical.

both living species of coelacanth have a diphycercal tail. in fact, almost every single genus in Actinistia has a diphycercal tail. but our fish doesn't. its tail has only two lobes, where the bottom one is much bigger than the top, which is a heterocercal tail. why is that?

it turns out you have to look really, really, really far back in Actinistia to find fish without diphycercal tails. and when you look back far enough...

you find Miguashaia, a fish that lived during the Devonian period 365 million years ago. a fish that also happens to be the most primitive coelacanth we know.

in other (slightly more overgeneralizing) words, it's the oldest coelacanth, so old that it doesn’t even have one of the main features we now associate with coelacanths. neat!

okay. why do i care about this fish?

isn't it odd that we see this same fish following minato for multiple pages during the dream sequence, when most of the other creatures only appear for a single panel or two?

it's especially weird by the time we get to the reunion with nagiko, when we stop seeing any other prehistoric creatures in the foreground (save for the basilosaurus skeleton). but this fish still stays next to minato, and neither him nor nagiko seem to acknowledge its presence. it... doesn't really do anything either. it just hangs around at minato's side or right behind him, like it's watching over him.

doesn’t it look a bit out of place in this scene?

and then what’s stranger is that we see it again later on. when haruno voices his concerns about minato's mental state in ch. 50, the implication being that he thinks minato might follow his wife to the grave, we get this panel to go with it:

there’s the whale skeleton and lion’s mane jellyfish, both of which have been previously used to represent nagiko. there's minato, reaching out to the jellyfish with the hand he wears his wedding ring on. and then there’s... the fish again. as before, minato doesn't interact with it at all. in fact, his back is completely turned to it, but the fish is still continuing to watch him from afar.

i already had some suspicions even before ch. 50, but this panel is the one that made me go "oh, okay, so that's definitely supposed to be a person, right?".

nagiko isn't the only character in the story who's connected to a particular deep sea creature or two: there's nagisa with the dumbo octopus, shizuka with the basket star, ryou with the cookiecutter shark, etc. we haven't had anyone with a prehistoric species yet, let alone a prehistoric coelacanth, but we do have someone who's depicted with modern day coelacanths pretty frequently:

so who would be a likely candidate for its ancient relative: a fish that's distinct enough from its kin to be recognized as a separate entity, while still sharing many visual similarities?

who's the person that's the most likely to come to mind whenever minato thinks of nagiko? a person who had always been at his side in his younger days? a person that minato can't truly see or talk to in his dreams, because he remains out of his reach?

a person who still continues to haunt him, even now?

wonder who that could be.

#mine #deep sea aquarium magmell #long post #it's... fish analysis and then some. sorry for mentioning [redacted] for the third time in the past few weeks #he's a load bearing wall of a character & so is [redacted2] and the fact that they'll be in the spotlight soon is making me jittery #hence all the posting. i've been waiting a while for this (gently taps the blog url)#but i hope this post makes sense and doesn't sound too outlandish. the fishposting part was also fun to look up stuff for

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tizeline · 1 year ago

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Can I ask how you draw the mutant mayhem turtles’ anatomy? And proportions. ALSO I LOVE YOUR ART IT IS SO GOOD AND JUST AHHH

(Hopefully that wasn’t weird)

Waaaa thank you!!! :,D!!!!

Uhhhh yeah sure why not. Just so ya know, not great at giving art tutorials so I have no idea how helpful you'll actually find this, but I'll try my best 👍

And this might not need saying, but just so we're on the same page, when I draw the MM turtles I don't exactly stay 100% on model. I generally try to draw them similarly to how they actually look, but I also take some ✨artistic liberties✨, as is the nature of fanart.

Okay let's start with heads, that's probably the one of the MM boys' most distinct feature. For Raph and Leo it's easy to divide their heads up in two main shapes. The lower part of their head sticks out quite a bit compared to the upper part. I dunno how clear it is in these images but compared to Leo, Raph has a bit of a wider head (mostly the cheeks) and the top of it is flatter. Leo's head is a bit more round-ish while Raph's is slightly more angular.

For Mikey and Donnie it's easier to just view their heads as one single shape (The lower part of their heads are still wider than the upper part, but it's not as noticeable as it is with their other brothers) Mikey's head is just straight up an oval. Well, not exactly, like an oval and a rectangle with mixed together. Donne's is less stretched out, like a circle and a rectangle mixed together.

But that's the movie, when it comes my art I have a tendency to dial down the differences between their heads and draw them a bit more overall roundish. (Except for like Donnie, I actually tend to make his face a bit more stretched out and rectangular lol)

I'm still figuring out how exactly I wanna draw these guys TBH, so my art of them isn't super consistent. That being said, there's a lot of squash and stretch going on in the movie's animation when it comes to facial expressions. So even in the movie their head-shapes aren't super consistent either.

Anyway, body proportions!

Aside from maybe height the brother all have pretty similar body-types. Raph I would say looks the most different, being a bit wider. Particularly his carapace is almost bit pear shaped? It gets wider the further down it goes is what I'm trying to say. Leo, Donnie and Mikey have a more consistent rectangular shape. (Another detail I noticed while making this was that it seems that Leo and Donnie have six scutes on their plastron, while Raph and Mikey have 8. It's a bit hard to see tho because their belts are kinda in the way)

With specifically their limbs, Donnie and Mikey are a bit lankier, while Raph and Leo have slightly thicker muscles (tho still rather lanky compared to other iterations of the turtles)

When I draw them they (like with their head shapes) end up more similar to each other than they are with their canon designs. I also draw them with slightly less thin limbs.

Shell! It was hard finding good images of the back of their shells so I dunno exactly how many scutes they have back there, but it seems to be 3 columns at the very least? (Also I think Leo might have a comparatively slightly smaller shell than his brothers?)

The shells also generally take up a bit more than half of their side-profile. Looking more closely at these reference images have made me realize that I draw their shells a bit flat lol.

I don't know how much more help I can give when it comes to their designs. I just end off with some details to remember when drawing them.

Raph is missing a tooth, and Mikey has braces. (Leo had braces in the concept art and I'm stubborn and insist on drawing him with them also because fuck you)

They all have a few scratches here and there, but in typical Raph fashion, he has a LOT of scratches on his plastron. Also his beltbuckle has tape on it.

The space between their eyes is narrower than the size of one of their eyes, except for Mikey. Him having a wider face makes his ...nosebridge(?)... whatever, the space there is approximately the width of one of his eyes. Some facial anatomy for ya'

Another face anatomy thing, the ends of their mouths mostly lines up with the outer edge of their eyes (they're pretty wide)

#tizel talk #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #mutant mayhem #tmnt mm

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theoreticallycatholic · 7 months ago

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Day One: Genesis 1-3

4/22/24

I was gonna read through chapter 4 but this post was getting pretty long already so I decided to stop here. I did say I was prone to rambling...

Definitely not going to go this in-depth every single time 😅 my 12th grade Sacred Scripture class just happened to spend a lot of time on the Creation narrative so I have a lot of previous knowledge I want to share.

Genesis 1

Looking through my 12th grade theology notes on the creation narrative, I have a table there that looks like this:

I wish I had taken more in-depth notes. I feel like there should be much more to say on this but I can't elaborate. I think I understand what that means but not enough to explain it. Although, thinking of the sun, moon and stars as being created to "rule" light makes the idea of light being created before the sun make a little more sense to me.

"God said, 'let the earth produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and fruit trees, each bearing fruit of its own kind within it." Gen 1:11

Okay, maybe slightly off-topic, but I've always wondered if there were any foods that Jesus didn't like. Because I mean, he's God, so he created them, but he's also human, so I would assume that maybe that means he had the human experience of having certain foods he didn't care for. Did he ever eat a vegetable as a kid and then go "why did I make this"?

"God said, 'let us make man in our own image, in the likeness of ourselves, and let them be masters of the fish of the sea, the birds of heaven, the cattle, all the wild animals and all the creatures that creep along the earth.' Gen 1:26

Let US make man in OUR own image, in the likeness of OURSELVES. I never noticed that before. I thought it might just be this translation but I went and checked RSV and NAB and they both say that as well. Is God referring to himself as the trinity? All the way back in Genesis chapter 1? Or...am I just...thinking too hard about it?

This is one of the scenarios where I wish I could understand Hebrew because I want to go and read this passage in the original Hebrew. I'm marking this verse to come back to later.

Also, my favorite explanation of the Trinity and the one that makes the most sense to me is this: if human beings are made of a body, soul, and a will, and they are made in God's image, then God is also made of a body, soul, and a will—with Jesus as the body, the Father as the soul, and the Holy Spirit as the will.

Genesis 2

"But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you are not to eat; for the day you eat of that you shall die." Gen 2:17

From the footnotes: Eating from this tree means usurping the divine privilege of deciding what is good and what is evil; the temptation is to proud independence, questioning God's judgement of good and evil.

This is indeed the way the tree of the knowledge of good and evil was explained to me in 12th grade, which I am thankful for because it used to be so confusing to me when I was younger. I thought it meant that eating from the tree would grant the ability to tell the difference between good and evil, and I could never understand how that would be a bad thing.

It also makes perfect sense because it seems the root of practically all problems in society is that everyone has their own ideas about what constitutes moral goodness. Even as a bad Catholic who struggles to wrap her head around her own faith I cringe every time I hear the "you have your truth, I have mine" line.

"The LORD God said, 'It is not good that the man should be alone. I shall make him a helper as a partner.'" Gen 2:18

My mom quotes this verse whenever my dad does something dumb.

"Then the LORD God made the man fall into a deep sleep. And while he was asleep, he took one of his ribs and closed up the flesh in its place. The LORD God built the rib he had taken from the man into a woman, and brought her to the man." Gen 2:21-22

According to my theology teacher, the ancient Hebrews believed the soul was contained in the chest/lungs and that the rib protected the soul; so Even being formed from a rib means women are built to be protectors of the soul..? Or...something like that. Again, I wish I'd taken more thorough notes.

There was also this thing I heard from somewhere else about how calling women inferior to men because Eve was created from a piece of Adam is dumb, because the pattern of creation is that each new thing God created was better than the last, and Eve was the last thing he created. But that sounds like a point a radical feminist would make so I'm sure that wasn't the whole explanation haha because I'm fairly certain the speaker was a conservative Catholic man.

Genesis 3

"Now, the snake was the most cunning of all the wild animals that the LORD God had made. It asked the woman, 'Did God really say you were not to eat from any of the trees in the garden?'" Gen 3:1

I have always wondered why the devil is portrayed this way and that's still something I don't quite understand.

From the footnotes: In Hebr., 'snake' and 'dragon' are the same word; the dragon will lose its proud stance and become wormlike.

If we're imagining the serpent in the garden as not a tiny talking snake, but a giant monstrous serpent, it's sort of weird that Adam just...lets it chat with his wife. Because he was standing right there—

"She also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate it." Gen 3:6

Another thing my theology teacher said: "Every covenant failure begins with a man failing to stand up for his bride."

"Then the eyes of both of them were opened and they realized they were naked. So they sewed fig leaves together to make themselves loincloths." Gen 3:7

I have a few things to say about this verse. The first is just that I've heard the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is believed to be a fig tree, both because it mentions Adam and Eve sew together fig leaves here and also because of that one passage in the New Testament where Jesus curses a fig tree.

Also, I noticed that the very first thing that happened after committing original sin was that Adam and Eve felt shame and immediately began to hide themselves from God.

I think there has to be some significance to their being ashamed of their naked bodies, something that relates to how throughout history human sexuality has been perverted, but it's not something I can put into words right now.

"He said, 'Who told you that you were naked? Have you been eating from the tree from which I forbade you to eat?' The man replied, 'The woman you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate it.'" Gen 3:11

This was something else I heard: obviously God already knew that they ate from the tree; what he is doing here is giving them the chance to confess. Like, as in the sacrament of reconciliation, I think.

Also, Adam immediately pointing fingers at his wife like a kid trying to get out of a punishment. Very classy of him. Eve also tries to blame the serpent but I feel like it's a little worse that Adam tries to blame her, since they are supposed to be partners who love and protect each other.

"'I shall put enmity / between you and the woman, / and between your offspring and hers; / he will bruise your head / and you will strike his heel.'" Gen 3:15

First of all, does anyone know why verses 14-19 are written in this format that's reminiscent of books like Psalms and Isaiah?

Secondly—although, this is probably common knowledge so I probably don't need to say this here—

The woman's offspring = Jesus

He will bruise your head = Jesus will triumph over sin

You will strike his heel = At the same time, he will suffer and die

Okay! So, that was Genesis chapters 1 through 3. This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would be. Again, please do not expect this level of detail from me through this whole series. 😅

The thing is, I find this stuff fascinating and I can talk about it like this but when it comes to actually believing it I have such a hard time wrapping my head around it. Even with everything I learned in that class there's still so much I don't understand.

I suppose there will always be things I don't understand, because there are things that we don't even have definite answers to. And those are the gaps that faith is supposed to fill.

Here's one of the stupid questions I have that I mentioned in my first post: does reciting prayers make a difference?

Right now I especially struggle with prayer and reciting prayers such as the Our Father is the only way I feel I'm capable of praying right now. But it doesn't feel like anything. It just feels like me saying words, even if I try to reflect on what they mean. Should I still say them anyway? What value does it have if I don't feel like I'm actually connecting with God?

Thank you to anyone who actually took the time to read this whole thing (if anyone did, that is...) and especially thank you to the support I have already received. I feel welcomed :)

#oh boy this is long #bible study #christianity #christian #catholicism #catholic #bible #genesis #sacred scriptures

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