#Notorious BIG: Bigger Than Life

[kismetlotts]

cw: angst, mentions of sex, best friend Simon Riley, mentions of knives, mentions of hurting yourself but no implications of actually doing so or having done in the past, mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol, clueless Simon Riley, crying in each others arms, helping out your best friend, reader is self less

part 2 of Best Friend Simon Riley Angst (I recommend reading part one first to understand certain elements better)

You woke up in the morning, daylight shining through your curtains and you already knew it wasn’t sunshine- bound to be nothing but grey clouds out there, flooding the sky like a polluted ocean. Your nose and head ached in the silent flood of last nights memories, your crying, your actions and worst of all, your best friend.

Oh Simon, what a dickhead you were. Why did you have to come here?

Your body flushed against the cold sheets behind you, a weightless bed, giving you the impression he’d done a runner. Typical him honestly- you wouldn’t be surprised if that was what initiated their breakup; the same breakup that was at fault for all of this.

He was always so forward, front and confrontational within the field. The notorious ‘Ghost’ that installs fear in every enemy he has to face. He’s a fighter at work but ironically, in life, all he knew was how to retreat. Pull away before he can cause anymore damage, pull out before the mess gets bigger.

You flung the covers off you, their pretty, pink, innocent pattern already making vomit surface in your throat. He’d flopped down on that bedding countless times in the past: memories which made it hurt more came to mind. The knives that were already jammed in your gut, heart and what’s seemed as your brain, twisting a little deeper before freezing up in place.

You remembered the times when his body would accidentally fling you around the mattress, grunting and smirking while he settle down and got comfy. You remembered the way his fingers tapped on the cotton as he leaned over to see what you were looking at on your phone. Nosy but never prying in too much.

Imagining how you looked when you watched his hand sweep across the duvet on movie night, pushing every crumb onto your bedroom floor with a laugh and an apology leaving his lips. His hands, shooting into the air as he surrendered in playful shame. Not really paying attention as your voice scolded him for eating in your bed.

Your fingers stripped the bedding from its covers. Tossing them into a pile on the floor beside your laundry basket, the sheets so stained with both of your sweat and dirt from the situation, your nose scrunched up at the sight. You left it there ready to put in the wash later.

Though, a part of you can’t help but wonder if they will ever feel as clean as they did before.

If they’ll ever give you the warm, comforting sensation you got every night before nodding off to sleep. Would you ever hear their soft cries to slip back in bed when you wake up early for work? The covers flopped back in agony, silently pleading for you to come back and have five more minutes?

No. Now they just feel like you never got out of that bed, the duvet still wrapped around your body keeping you hostage and forcing you to go about your day. The weight of everything on your shoulders enough for you to trip and fall on the material.

You’d burn them if they weren’t so big.

The whole thing was absolutely ridiculous, why the fuck did you let it happen anyway? The sex with him wasn’t anything like you’d wished or dreamed of nor would it have never been.

He didn’t love you but something inside you obviously can’t comprehend that. Every chance you get to show or pretend that the two of you were more than what you were- you’d leap for it: eyes sparkling with the same hope a lost kid has.

He used you last night and you let him like the pathetic, lovesick loser you always were. It wasn’t sex, it was nothing more than a mere distraction and waste of time. A waste of his time, more hassle just for him.

Your fingers wrapped around your smooth doorknob as you pushed open your bedroom door, trailing into the kitchen before an aroma of pancake batter and fresh baking gripped you by the throat. Your big eyes meeting Simons, his familiar, large figure pressed against your kitchen counter as he sucked on his bottom lip.

His face was pale and his brown pupils never left the plate of fucked up pancakes, left on a placemat on the table.

You laughed. You laughed because you couldn’t trust anything else to come out- You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t break down crying, that you wouldn’t scream or hurt yourself in front of him, that you wouldn’t wince at this- idiotic gesture.

Was this an apology? Was this all you meant to him? A plate of sweet treats you’d have to force yourself to eat, to swallow down and help you forget everything bad that happened. Maybe, or perhaps it was pure coincidence it summed up his perspective of the night; perfectly.

“Did you make me pancakes?” The tremble and nerves in your voice was apparent and he nodded slowly, gesturing to the massive bag of groceries on the countertop.

“With berries and sugar on top. I’ve got some other things here though, chocolate- all kinds, some syrup and honey and other fruit in that bag if you want any. I just added berries because I know they’re your favourite.” He rambled on.

“When did I tell you that?” Your head turned to the side, twitching in uncertainty as you sat down in front of the plate. Eyes squinting as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You said when we…-oh.”

That’s not her, Simon.

His hand lifted to his eyes, rubbing them to avoid looking anywhere. The rise and fall of his chest grew faster and you just knew how is heart felt, flooding with guilt and embarrassment at his own actions.

Staying mad at him was hard when you knew him so well. Mistakes get made and feeling get trampled on but he wasn’t a bad person. That’s why you fell for him all that time ago.

The knife in your hand cut through the pancakes like butter, your posture up straight and distant from the plate while your appetite warned you not to bite. Your eyes flickered over to Simon again, seeing his hands still firmly placed over his eyes, broad shoulders retracted inwards as his body jolted in silent cries. The metal rattled against the table as you put the knife down and jumped out of your chair.

“Simon don’t do this-“ You spoke comfortingly, lunging over towards his body. Your soft skin met with the roughness of his arm but before you could say another word he shoved your body away from him.

A voice you’d never heard before coming out loud and brute, as you took a step back from his harsh rejection.

“Can you just fuck off trying to make me feel better constantly- I know i’ve fucked up and I know i’ve upset you. Stop acting like everything is alright when it isn’t, you do this every time- i’m not a kid!” His fist clawed at his shirt. Pulling it away from his chest as if he wanted to rip his heart out to stop the torture he was suffering.

Spit flew from his mouth and his eyes looked red, sunken with despair. Your voice died in your mouth, tongue soaking up all your saliva and you tried to swallow.

He was lost. He ruined the thing he needed the most- fucked about and caused chaos with his lifeline. You were his saviour and always had been. He didn’t need for you to fix his relationship or his problems, he needed you to fix him. He didn’t sleep with you to use you intentionally, it was a drunken mistake and a shitty timing.

He inhaled through his mouth, his throat croaking as he gripped the counter for stabilisation. Face was locked down to the floor, glued and staring at his shoes on your kitchen floor.

The drops of his tears on the black leather of his boots and the drops on your tiles reminding him of how pathetic he was being. He was a man, he worked in the military. He had slept with people before, cheated, and ruined relationships but nothing hurt like this hurt. Nothing knocked him down so hard he was afraid to get back up, he was afraid to lose you. Simon was scared.

“I made a mistake and I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I can even do to make it up to you- fucking pancakes- it is stupid I should know better and I should know what to do but I-” The whiteness in his knuckles disappeared as he lessened his grip on the counter. Hands falling to his side as he broke down on the spot.

The hard armour he lived in unraveling like flimsy pieces of ribbon. His wet eyelashes hitting his cheeks as he wiped his nose and face on the back of his wrist.

“I can’t think. I can’t be me without you here and I don’t know what to do, please, i’m so sorry just please come back to me. I know i’ve lost a part of you and I will fight until the end of day to get it back, but for now just let me have the rest back. I need my best friend back.” His hands met your lower back as you flung your arms around his neck, your own eyes dripping with tears of outrage and hurt but above all you needed Simon too.

You sobbed silently into his shoulder as he held you close to him finally getting his breathing back to normal. You bit your lips shut and breathed slowly so he couldn’t feel your body shake for air. You didn’t want him to realise how much you were struggling in his arms- how lost and abused you felt. You didn’t want your emotions to worsen his because he had to come first.

He’d lost the love of his life and he needs someone to be strong for him, help him get on his own feet. Be beside him with wide arms and a welcoming face. It wasn’t him being selfish, it was something you had to understand Simon to understand.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you hesitantly sat down and talked. It was a long talk hidden by cheap smiles and forced laughter but of course, he didn’t catch on. You let him speak, you gave him advice- hugged it out and as weeks passed by, the two of you were back to normality again.

He’d found a new girl quicker than you thought he wouldn’t, pretty girl and ironically she your figure and eye colour. The more you watched them interact the more they seemed to happy together, kissing, hugging, buying each other gifts. It felt just like how it was before.

Back to Simon and his lovesick best friend that will always be there for him even if he’s never there for her. Back to Simon and his awful dating life as he hops from one awful breakup to the next because they all are missing something.

All he wants, is girl with your hair colour. A girl with your eye colour and your smile. All he longs for is a girl that he can hold hands with but can also roll his eyes at when she teases him for being too cheesy. He wants a girl who can laugh and joke with him but still support him and by there for him in more ways than one. Not just a girlfriend but almost as if a best friend at the same time. That’s all he wants and asks the world for but for some reason she just isn’t out there for him.

And until he realises why he looks for you in every girl he meets. Until he steps back and opens his eyelids to everything right in front of him. She won’t ever be.

[yeyinde]

Outlaw!Price, the enigmatic leader of the notorious and deadly 141 gang, who stumbles upon you one evening near the stables (attempting to steal the mare he had his eyes on, no less) as you try to sneak out of the city (and away from the awful, awful man you're supposed to be married to in the morning), and decides to help you get away.

But if you think it's altruism that's making him lend a helping hand to a stranger, you're wrong. In this life, he knows it's kill or be killed.

And most importantly:

finders keepers.

“How's this,” he begins, and everything inside of you screams to run. “I'll accompany you across the desert. Get you somewhere safe.” 

“Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure,” you sneer, edging backwards. “As if I'm dumb enough to believe that.”

“Can't leave a maiden—” your scathing hiss makes his lips twitch beneath the thick moustache; “—all on her own like that. I know these parts like the back of my hand. No harm will come to you. That, you have my word for.”

“And what's that worth?” 

He dips his chin. “Far more than you could imagine, love.” 

You swallow. “I don't know. I don't trust you—”

“Smart,” he nods, drops the cigar on the ground before snuffing the end out with the heel of his boot. “But I ain't very patient. Better make up your mind quickly.”

“Well, in that case—”

“But," he cuts your scoff off with a low hum. "I'll put it this way for you: do you want me to be the one to accompany you across the desert or the one they'll pay, handsomely, tomorrow morning to drag you back home, mm?”

“You scoundrel—! You dirty, rotten—”

“It's business, love.”

“I don't have any money to even pay you to—”

His eyes are searing when they catch on the threads of your lace collar, razing over exposed skin like he's owed the privilege. You've never seen such hunger on a man's face before.

Your skin prickles. Heart sinking low with each rasping sweep of his eyes across your body. It's as if you're meat. Something to be bartered with. Bargained.

The rasp in his voice makes you shiver. “You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure something out.”

“I—”

“I'll leave it to you, then, mm?” He starts forward, then, chin ducking low into his collar to stare down at you through the wide brim of his hat. Each thud of his boots echo against the floor in haunting harmony with the metal clink of his spurs. 

More of his bulk is revealed as he steps out from the shadows and into the pale moonlight, and somewhere in your chest, the air becomes trapped. 

He's huge. Bigger, now, where most of him blended in, almost seamlessly, into the shadows. A massive mountain of a man. 

His shoulders seem to stretch the fabric of his vest and waistcoat taut, pulling sharply on the straining threads. The heavy brown of his jacket sweeps down to midthigh, the seam tucked behind the leather holster of his gun tied tight at his waist. The brass buttons of his dress shirt crease against the pull of his broad chest and barrelled stomach. The softness around his midsection speaks almost highly of a luxurious lifestyle—pure hedonism. The sort ladies back home whisper about. Violence, women, and booze—ruffians, the lot of them! But it seems to belie the power in his gait. In the flex of his thick, corded thighs bunching in the tightness of his denim trousers and the leather caps covering them.

He has the walk of a bear. Lumbering, sloven. A touch clumsy. 

And yet—

The softness about him hides the raw strength under the thick pelt. Deadly. The slow, meandering trawl of a man who knows, unequivocally, that he needn’t run or rush anywhere. 

It lodges somewhere inside of you. This knowledge, this fact. He'll outpace you in spades. Catch up no matter where you flee to. 

Your stomach folds, looping over itself. It's nausea, maybe. And something else—

He's so big. Burly. Thickened like the strong trucks of ponderosa pine. A man cut from the wilderness; made in the likeness of the savagery of the wild. The brutality of the desert, of mother nature herself. Kin to the affinity this land seems to have in taking every ounce of a man and leaving him bereft in the face of the looming unknowns in the vast desert.

None of the men you've ever met before look like him. Grizzled. Hardened.

His scarred, tanned skin speaks of a life living outdoors. On a horse, on the run—hard work made with his bare hands. You think the softness, the callous-free palm that gripped your fingers tight in a vice, and can't help but to lean, just a little, into him. Drawn there, like a moth to a flame.

There's something about this man that makes you tremble. Something that curls inside of your guts. Something deeper, darker than fear. Primal. Animalistic. There must be something wrong with you, then. Most know to run from the predators—not move closer.

He comes to a halt less than an arm's length away from you, close enough that you can scent the heavy musk of him so thickly in your nose. Something purely masculine—loam, humus—and yet unfathomably different from the men you've known your whole life. Horse, and sweat. Sun. The headiness of riding nonstop through the sprawling deserts of New Mexico. Leather, and gunpowder. 

The novelty of it all is enough to make you dizzy. And, as if to reinforce it, he leans down, the brim of his hat narrowly missing your forehead, and he rasps, guttural and dark, 

“and I do expect to be paid back in full, love,” his voice is felled timber. Low, and firm. “Or you'll find you don't like the consequences very much. Am I clear?”

The unmistakable iron in it snags on the tendrils of your resolve, pulling messily at the threads. No escape. It winds tighter, tighter— 

Still. 

Your only other option is to stay here, and in the morning, marry a man who made it abundantly clear that the sole use he has for you is to rebrand a dwindling legacy (women ought to be seen, not heard, darlin’, and I think it's high time someone teach you that); or— 

Make off on your own. Through the unmapped, untamed wilderness of New Mexico with nothing for protection except whatever you could reasonably steal away with uninterrupted, which. Isn't much. Not only that—this man, this outlaw, had made it abundantly clear that there would be a bounty on you come sunrise. One he'd be most eager to fulfil. 

Rock, hard place. No escape. 

You steel yourself, grappling with trembling fingers against the dwindling options in front of you, and offer a slow, jerking nod. 

He heaves a breath in response. “Good choice, love.”

It doesn't feel very much like one. It doesn't feel very good at all, even. 

In this little stable just outside of town, you sell your soul to the devil in New Mexico while the cicadas in the background scream through the ink black night. The sounds they make seem to ask, 

what have you done?

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓖𝓸𝓭’𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷

Dark!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: What you assumed would be a routine sale to a regular customer turns into a drug deal gone wrong when you realise it's not her, but her uncle, that has showed up to bury the hatchet

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT DDDNE, NONCON/R*PE, mentions of DEA, age gap [reader is in her early 20s Javi is in his 40s], reader sells drugs, reader wears a skirt, rough sex, semi public sex, knife and threats with blades, reader is actively experiencing Stockholm syndrome, degradation, dumbification, humiliation, victim blaming and punishment [he is teaching her a lesson], size difference [Javi is bigger than reader and can lift her], using panties as a gag, crying, very mean!Javi, domineering!Javi, slight praise, petnames, choking, creampie, unprotected P in V [don't do it!!] this is much darker than my other work. I may not have included something that could potentially trigger you, so please proceed with caution. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: Surprise dark Javi Peña for you lovelies. Please heed the warnings, this may not be for you, it gets pretty dark. If it isn't, scroll past. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Big thanks to @toxicanonymity for brainstorming with me about this like a year ago (when it was meant to be about Joel) lmao! I finally finished it!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!! Mwah!!

Masterlist

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Go tell that long tongue liar

Go and tell that midnight rider

Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter

Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down

Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down

What you did was a little side job, a way to make a quick buck after long school hours had tired you out beyond measure. Frankly, that was all you had to say about it. 

Business in the wealthy part of town was far from rough- kids in picket fence houses were your prime demographic, after all. They had the time, and they sure as hell had the money. If you weren’t going to supply it, someone else would. Of course, if their parents got a whiff of how their children scrambled to you like a pack of dogs you wouldn’t hear the last of it. 

It's not like anyone would have suspected anything to begin with– not from the neighbourhood’s golden child. But you had to thank your parents for that reputation. No one would expect something like that from a sweet thing like Sarah either- which is why you were surprised when she rang you up on your second phone shortly after her 18th birthday. 

It had been a couple of months since she’d been coming to you– before parties and such. You didn't ask many questions. She was only a senior, but who were you to play moral policeman? You were barely two years ahead. 

Besides, she wasn’t really a resident of your neighbourhood– just came to hang at her uncle’s every weekend. 

It probably felt a lot more dirty considering you knew him quite well. Well, knew was a strong word. Your parents were acquaintances and he’d helped fix the fence of your house a few years prior. You’d see him every now and then and even tried the batch of cookies Sarah had roped him into baking and sent over. 

He’d often see you around and ask about college and the like. He had quite a good impression of you and you just couldn’t stomach telling him you sold his niece drugs on the weekend. Especially because, when he wasn’t getting roped into baking cookies, in his day to day life, Javi P was your neighbourhood’s most beloved narc. 

You wondered how Sarah didn't let the fact that her uncle was the head of the DEA and its most notorious, cartel busting agent, deter her from calling upon your services. You couldn't deny, you felt quite bad. You usually wouldn't. His job be damned, something felt a little dirty about lying to a sweet, kind man like Javier. 

But that was not your problem. 

Everytime Sara showed up no qualms- with the money, and her backpack, in the exact location you instructed her to. 

Spring came and went. So did summer. And before you knew it she had become a regular. 

Which is why you weren’t irked at all when on a drizzly autumn Friday Sara had asked to meet you around 5pm in your usual spot– near the fence behind the Willson’s orchids– in between those brutalist brick sheds you’d sneak off to with boys you liked. 

She was punctual, in fact she was always there a good ten minutes before you showed up just to be sure– which is why you continued forward when you caught a shadow and a rustle of the leaves emerge from the shed’s side. 

You brushed a stay raindrop from the side of your cheek as you looked up at the grey, drab sky. Thank god for the leaves– they painted the brown of the path and all that stood in your way fiery reds, yellows and oranges. 

As you approached you heard the wet ground crinkle under your feet– the leaves and the mud swallowing your shoes with every step forward. You felt them stick to the soles, and you made a mental note to leave Sarah as quickly as possible as to not be late to family dinner. There was no way you could walk fast- or even briskly, considering the state of the ground. 

When you neared the shed and rounded the corner however, you noticed Sarah's shadow seemed to have caught the light a different way– looking a lot taller, a lot more elongated under the last of the autumn sun before the clouds completely eclipsed it. 

She looked a lot taller, a lot more imposing, with broader shoulders and a cut jaw, with short, curly, dishevelled hair. A crack of thunder sounded in the distance. At a moment you knew that shadow, and you scrambled back on your feet to get up and out the Wilson’s orchid. 

But the mud in the ground was damp from the rain, and your shoes were stuck to it like toffee, and before you could realise it was pouring rain. You stumbled on the garden rake that had been leant against the shed. 

A voice called your name from behind it.  

You might as well have thrown up seeing simple, warm eyed, cookie baking Javier Peña leaning up against the wall instead of his niece – looking neither simple nor warm eyed, and sporting the scent of a hard day’s work out on the field rather than the scent of baked goods. 

You desperately tried to suppress the lump in your throat as he came into full view. His white button up shirt was damp from the water the trees had been steadily dripping onto it, his hair dishevelled, curls haphazardly sticking to his forehead. Another crack of thunder sounded, closer this time, and you felt your sweater become all the more wet every passing second. 

For a moment you contemplated playing coy, but you knew that he knew exactly what you were doing there. If he had a problem with his niece ’s purchasing habits he ought to take it up with her, you were merely supplying a demand. And that was exactly what you told him– albeit a lot less courageously than you would have liked. You could barely recognise your own voice- monotonous and flat, but importantly shaky and scared. 

And he noticed. 

He scoffed, shaking his head and giving you a slow once over– in your tattered socks and sneakers. “Disturbing the peace of this neighbourhood, corrupting the kids with your behaviour. You’re ruining it.” 

“I-” a leaf drifted through the wind and landed on your wet hand, cutting you off as you squeaked, dusting it off yourself. 

He stepped to the side, then took another menacing step in front of you. By the time he’d met you chest to chest you were backed up against the wall without realising it– unable to escape, trapped. He smiled at you- tight, and sickly sweet. He reached for the damp hem of your skirt. You felt your skin crawl under his touch. 

“Goddamn. To think I thought ya were a good one” he shook his head, a humourless laugh ringing in your ears. “Should’ve known…” You shivered when he lifted his hand to your cheek, stroking your face with his thumb and a false sense of gentleness. 

“Those whorey little skirts- tight lil tops” the lump in your throat grew as he continued, mind blank and racing simultaneously. It was nothing short of appalling. His words were harsh and cruel. His hands dropped to the waistband of your skirt, fingers slipping in to curl it. He didn't care that you recoiled at the touch, and attempted to shake off his prying gestures. He laughed again. “‘S the only way remembered ya played tennis” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, watching horrified as he grabbed your shoulders and shoved you backwards. Your back hit the shed once again, more violently than the time before thanks to his push, his voice had picked up that aggressive tone that had simmered down since he first started talking once again, and you felt your heart jump at the change. 

“Y’a poor dad thought I was so invested in your lil family…”  his fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, toying with your sweater to expose your soft flesh to the harsh cold of the autumn rain. Each swipe of them leaving a trail of fire behind. 

You didn't dare meet his eyes, nauseous at the very thought. You caught a bolt of lightning strike behind his back, the grey sky complimenting the tone of the entire situation. The fingers that had been drawing shapes on your hip had slid up your chest to find home around the column of your throat, and as they squeezed– gently but threateningly, you felt your legs finally begin to give way under you.  “Shame ya ain’t a good girl huh..” 

“Real fuckin shame.” he shook you lightly, and your hands flew to grip his wrist. Unsurprisingly, your efforts were to no avail. His hand maintained the unrelenting grip on your throat, his eyes trained on yours like a predator. You screwed your own shut, unwilling to meet the fury in his. 

The sound of the swish of a blade barely registered in your head. Before you could look down to catch a glimpse of the utility knife Javi had clicked into place, it was being pressed gently against your jugular. “To think ya had the nerve baby…” 

The blade grazed your skin, a hair away from piercing your skin and slicing it open. “Couldn’t even keep yourself away from the girl with a DEA agent for an uncle?” The tear that streaked its way down your cheek almost burned a hole in your skin. Followed by what seemed like a thousand more, your watery eyes set you a harsh reminder of the mess you’d fallen into. And yet you couldn’t seem to muster up the courage to actually respond to him. 

Javier seemed to like those tears though. “Oh baby, babygirl…” the hand that wasn't holding the blade against your skin came to gently cup your cheek. “Shhh, shhh, my babydoll.” With his thumb Javi wiped the tracks off your face, leaning down and kissing the dampness lightly on each side. The touch of his lips made you wince.  “Don't wanna cause a ruckus..” That sweetness of his voice made you shiver, made your chin wobble. 

“Please, Mr-” 

You yelped, feeling that blade press just a little harder against your neck, then drag itself to lift up the hem of your sweater and move under to shift between your breasts. “I said shut that whore mouth.” There it was, that harsh, cruel tone once again. You felt the blade drag up and down your skin, then hook at the collar of your warm sweater to slice through that cable knit pattern you so loved. 

The sound of the wool fraying and splitting apart rang in your ears, distracting you momentarily as Javi bunched up the fabric of your skirt, grabbing you by the thighs and hoisting you up against the rough wall of the shed. You had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist to keep yourself stable, and away from the knife that was so close to your throat. 

The rain thundered and came down against you, its sounds drawing out your weeping and whimpering. A sheet of mist and water engulfed the both of you in a horrid blanket of union. You felt Javier’s hard length press against your clothed core and you shivered. Despite it all you felt your panties dampen at the contact. 

He chuckled against your skin, knowingly, mockingly, and slid his fingers between you to rub your now wet cunt through your panties. “Cant even help yourself can you?” you felt the arousal pool in your panties, but shook your head nonetheless. Your eyes rolled back at the feel of his fingertips drawing slow circles on your clit. “Look at that, sluts gettin’ all wet and achy, huh?” 

The thunder and lightning only picked up pace as his calloused fingers pulled your panties aside roughly, fingertips grazing your swollen, sensitive flesh. “Fuck, such a pretty pussy” The elastic of your waistband tugged against your soft skin, rubbing against you– leaving you sore, tender. You were dripping, and the feeling made you turn your head away from Javier in disgust. 

He notched his tip at your drooling entrance and you whined, wiggling your hips to shake off the desire that stirred in your tummy. “Don’t ya worry baby, gonna take care of this tight little snatch.” You shook your head no, and he only responded with a laugh. 

In a sharp, single thrust you felt his throbbing, hard length stretch you open. There was no mercy, no grace period, just a snap of his hips towards yours and his cock parting your insides in that cruel, uncaring manner. “Y’a gonna shut your ass up take what I give to ya because it looks like you’ve got no choice.” 

“Excited for family dinner? Gonna be a lot more fun when you’ve got my cum leaking out of ya.” The length of him stretched you open, no time to adjust with his sharp, quick thrusts. The pain came in sharp just the same way, made you wince and squirm at the burn. 

You had never felt so full, every sensitive spot inside you being nudged just the right way by his cock. He continued to thrust inside your wet heat, fast and deep. A tightness began to build in your tummy. 

His thumb brushed your lip and the urge to part your lips to take it into your mouth for a sense of comfort overtook you. Had you not been as frozen as you were, you would have acted on it. But that thumb pressed itself against your lips, a silent order to hush yourself as Javi’s thrusts became all the more gruelling, faster, harder, harsher. 

“Ya’ might be an adult- but y’a sure as hell act like a dumb little girl” The drag of his cock against your throbbing walls had an unwelcome moan tumbling from your lips–the pleasure more horrifying than the pain. His words had your stomach flip flopping. 

His fingers wrapped firmly around your throat, palm placing enough pressure against your skin to stutter your breathing. “Listen baby, I know words are really fuckin hard… they’re so big, and confusing. Too much for your pretty little head.” He heard you heave a loud, stuttery breath, but left his hand where it was for a few more agonising seconds. “So I had’ta’ tell you a way ya understand” 

You felt the blade that had momentarily lost contact with your flesh drag slowly against your waist and under your skirt. Yet again the sound of fabric ripping rang in your ears, the elastic of your panties snapping against your hips only marginally less painful than the feel of Javier's thick cock splitting you open. When you turned your head to catch Javier’s gaze, his own eyes were inspecting the tattered white cotton that had once had a place on your hips between his fingers. 

“Goddamn. Pretty even underneath it all? Expected something more…” He laughed maliciously, then turned his head like he was searching for the right words. “Slutty…..? whorish?” His relentless thrusts didn’t cease. “But goddamn, like keepin’ it holy dont ya?” His hips snapped towards yours again, and he groaned in pleasure. “You ain't foolin’ me.” 

“No-” you were promptly cut off, face unable to dodge his hand. Javier rolled his eyes, annoyed by how animated you were being– too much for his liking. He forced the fabric into your mouth, and you had no choice to let him.

“Goddamn, that college degree don't count for much huh? That oughta shut you up, bitch.” Soon enough, and to your horror the wetness between your legs began to spread, each movement of his prompting more sounds of pleasure than pain to embarrassingly get muffled against the fabric of your own panties. 

The way his brow furrowed, the vein on the side of his neck bulged from the strain, from how good you felt around him, from the way your pussy was milking his cock, it was all a lot more appealing of a sight than you were willing to acknowledge at the moment. “Fuck, should try whoring out this pussy for some extra cash too.” 

“Next time ya wanna make a buck, walk that pretty little ass down the block” Splinters from the wooden shed wall grazed your skin, poking through the cable knit ever so slightly, an uncomfortable little pinch that palled in comparison to the delicious stretch of his cock splitting you open. 

“Would be nice. Won’t have to drive on down to the whore house.” His cock thrust achingly out of your wet heat, building a tension inside you so strong it set your skin on fire. “Would fuck this pretty little cunt in my bed.” Your hips felt heavy, the spot between your thighs tense, aching with a desperate need to feel a release that had unwillingly been building inside you. 

“Fuck ya till you’re a mess.” He growled in your ear, lips ghosting your skin. “That’d be nice, huh? Might let ya scream that time..” The image of Javier shoving you on his bed and taking care of you flashed in your mind– perhaps a soft, gentle, deep lovemaking that you were horrified to find appealing at the moment. 

At some point the expanse of his chest became a security, his broad, looming shoulders a sickening comfort. “Look at you- fuckin liking it. Tight little snatch squeezin’ my cock.” If perhaps that gentleness had come to you some other way you would’ve died for it, but now you were crooning for it, silently begging for it, for some respite, for a sick sort of comfort that gave you butterflies. 

What you had thought to be the unbelievable, the merciful, law abiding, law enforcing protector of the innocent and the weak, was ripping you apart piece by piece, watching you crumble around his cock, your eyes roll back with that pleasure you couldn’t ignore, your hands reach for him because you pined for the gentleness he had given you a taste off.

Your sweater caught the wood of the shed, you were sure it was full of holes at that point, the knit pattern ruined forever, something to remind you of the way your pussy quivered around his cock. “Look at that… fuck… bein’ a good girl now arent ya? Learning how to behave.” The obscene sound of your wetness, the squelch of his cock pumping in and out your swollen, abused cunt had you cringing, had your heart pounding desperately against your chest. “Never too late to change your ways.. Feels so good you can't help yourself huh? Just wanna cum..” He closed the blade that he had previously had a close grip on and shoved it into his pocket. 

Your mouth loosened around the damp fabric of your panties, pleasure shooting up your spine and making your toes curl. “That's it, learnin’ well now, aren't we?” You felt hot and cold simultaneously– a chill of terror so strong you began to sweat. He pulled your hips against his, chuckling at your desperate squirming in an attempt to put off your release. 

Javier caught your face between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing your cheeks and relishing in the sight of you drooling around your panties. Showing some mercy, he pulled the fabric from between your lips, tossing it onto the dirty ground. “Wonder why a slut like you would even bother with these?” He chuckled in your ear, then pressed a sloppy kiss against your neck. 

His tip brushed that sweet spot inside you, made you tighten your thighs around his waist. “Feel so fucking good.” You felt your chest burn, your pussy bare down on his cock. The tension inside you finally snapped, a ragged moan escaping from your throat and slipping past your lips. You felt yourself gush and quiver around his cock, whole body on fire with the intensity of your release.  

“That's a good girl– fuck” His voice was strained and low, a gravely sound dripping like honey from his lips as he neared his release. The praise made your heart flutter. With a few final, sloppy thrusts Javier’s hips stilled, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you– painting your still fluttering walls with his spend. 

You felt your pussy clench around nothing when he pulled out. 

He pressed his head on the shed wall beside your cheek, catching his breath. The smell of cigarettes off his hair finally registering in your mind– something you were perhaps too preoccupied to notice prior. Another stray tear slid down your cheek, along with an ice cold raindrop that fell from the sky. 

Javier’s hand reached for your face and you flinched. He stroked your face and took it in with his eyes once again. You dared to meet his cold, unwavering gaze– so detached you wondered if he even registered life in anyone else's. Their browns drew you in despite this, and called you to make a home in them. 

He sighed, dropping your thighs from his hold and pressing you against the shed with his body.You felt his spend leak out of you and drip onto your thighs obscenely. Your hands flew to grip his shirt to maintain your balance, but Javier was quick to step back. 

Your knees shook violently as he finally retreated from the side of the shed. The damp soil and crackly leaves clung to your wet thighs as gravity forced you to the dirty ground. Instinctively you pressed your back against the shed, bracing yourself for another one of Agent Peña’s cruel jabs. You caught a glimpse of your white panties– dirty, torn and unusable, discarded on the ground. 

Worse however, you watched him fix his shirt and jeans as you trembled and caught your breath, paying you no mind whatsoever. With his body no longer shielding you from the rain you felt the gentle thud of the raindrops against your cold skin, drenching you even more than before. 

When you sank your fingers into the mud to find your bearings you felt a tickle on the inside of your ring finger. You looked down momentarily to catch a stay earthworm wriggle out from beside your hand and attempt to scurry away. 

You yelped, bringing your hand to your chest, and tucking your knees further into your front– too exhausted to pick yourself up off the ground. 

Javier's soft snicker rang in your ears like a merciless, menacing bell. When you finally looked back at him it felt even more dirty than the first time. His face scrunched in displeasure at the sight of you huddled on the ground, your clothes and overall appearance dishevelled. “Got fuckin lucky today, dirty bitch.” His words made you shiver. 

He stalked over to your hunched form once again, towering over you. His shadow covered your entire body in its shade as the evening sun peaked out from under the clouds, the final drops of the shower cascading down the sloped roof of the shed and onto your damp shoulders. 

“I better not see ya around Sarah again.” 

Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

Workin' in the dark against your fellow man

But as sure as God made black and white

What's down in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

This one was much on the darker side, but I hope you enjoyed! Thank you to everyone who reblogs and engages with my work- you keep me writing!! 💗🐝

[zackprincebooks]

🥘Feast Day 🥘

As a kitchen serf in the fortress-monastery, you love feeding your lord angels. If your meager work is one of the few pleasures they can enjoy in their endless war, then you are happy to serve. But your decadent meals are not the only pleasure they seek, and you will come to serve in a different way. (Gadriel x Reader, explicit. 2nd person PoV, Reader is not addressed with a name or gendered pronouns.)

Want to read this on Ao3? Click here!

-------------------------

Fragrant steam rises from the kitchen, fogging up the glasses of the head chef as you open the oven to remove your roasting pan. Some juices dribble off the saber bear roast and splash into the oven, making a sizzling sound and producing even more steam.

“Careful! We still need to braise the grand chestnuts in the sauce, so don’t lose too much jus.” The Master of the Refectorium cleans his glasses on his apron and puts them on, groaning as they immediately fog up again. You take a knee to remove the roasting pan, huffing as your sweaty, mitted hands struggle to lift it onto the counter. 

“I need an extra pair of hands here!” Immediately three people rush to your side as the roasting pan threatens to tip over, pushing it back with their hands wrapped in dish towels. Together, you hoist the roasting pan onto some trivets waiting on the counter. Your fellows clap you on the back and one of them offers you a towel. 

“Many thanks.” You wipe your glistening brow with the proffered towel before throwing it over your shoulder. “If I dropped this and wasted eight hours of roasting, I couldn’t show my face around the monastery.” The thought of explaining to the Lord Angels that they would go without dinner was enough to make your knees weak. 

You didn’t fear them; you loved them with every inch of your weak, mortal heart. Feeding the Emperor’s Angels was a holy duty in and of itself, and you could not meet their disappointed gaze if you had to tell them you ruined one of their few pleasures in life. 

The saucier takes the pan of drippings over to the stove with a bottle of wine and a sack of chestnuts, and you are forced to wash the pan’s rack as you let the roast rest on the counter. It’s watching you, teasingly, begging you to cut into it to check if the inside is done. For such a powerful animal, saber bear meat was notoriously finicky. One minute over its extensive roasting time, and those delicate proteins would start breaking down into gray, unpalatable mush.

“Are you trying to kill it again?” Your saucier teases, giving the chestnuts a little flip. Drops of wine sauce glitter in the air like precious garnets, but your focus is directed towards your precious roast. Every time someone walks by, your breath hitches for fear that they would accidentally knock it to the floor—despite the roast being too big and heavy for anyone but a Space Marine to nudge it off the counter.

Finally—fucking finally—you can cut into it. It’s a thing of beauty; adorned with spices and herbs and the carving knife cuts through it like butter. Each plump slice is a beautiful ruby red, adorned with glittering pearls of fat. More juice spills from each cut, flowing over your knife like reams of crimson silk. You swallow the desire to fawn over the individual slices; it will be almost dinner time, and serving the lords cold, flaccid meat would be a bigger disappointment than serving nothing at all! 

You’re halfway through slicing the roast when you hear the distant sound of a bell ringing, heralding the approach of the Lord Angels. Despite that, you hold off on cutting faster; the roast needs to rest for a second time before you can serve it, and you will have plenty of time during the first course. Nothing but the best for your angels.

The metal window opens up to the dining hall, and you briefly look up from your work to admire the gathered angels.  Many of them have come from the baths with hair still damp and cheeks flushed red from steam. Sometimes you envy the bath serfs, who tend to the lords at their most vulnerable, but you would never relinquish the joy you feel from filling their bellies.

Their first course is an array of broiled root vegetables, many of them slathered in cheese, erdripper bacon, or both. While you bemoan the sheer amount of grease and fat, reaching the ten-thousand calories required to keep a Space Marine fed and running was no easy feat. At least they were getting their vegetables, and not fully subsisting on nutrigruel and amino-porridge. You shudder to think of what your angels eat on the battlefield without your spoon and pan!

Lord Gadriel glimpses you cutting your roast, and his blue eyes light up. “I hope that’s for me later,” he says with a smile, nodding towards you. His blond hair is damp from the baths and the light glances off it, giving him a true halo. You blush and look down, continuing to cut.

From behind him, Lord Chairon lets out a deep throated chuckle that rattles your ribcage. “Don’t be greedy, brother! Leave some for us! That’s a prize of a roast.” He thwaps Gadriel on his bare bicep with a powerful fist and you watch it bounce.

When Gadriel takes his first course, he levels his gaze at you and the warmth in your lower belly tells you he’s not thinking about the roast. -------------------------------

If your fellow cooks knew you wanted to stay late to get a slice of the saber bear roast to yourself, they didn’t show it. The master bids you goodnight, tossing his soiled apron into the hamper as he leaves.

To your credit, you do wash, chop, and wrap the chimera fruit and cobblemoss in preparation for breakfast tomorrow, and you’re in the middle of cleaning your workstation when you hear footsteps down the hall leading to the kitchen doors. The bulky shadow on the opposite wall makes your heart throb in your chest and you abandon the washrag on the counter to approach the double doors.

“Lord Gadriel, may I assist you? Was tonight’s dinner not enough to satisfy you?” While mealtime was over, the kitchen was open to anyone who needed food.

He smiles at you, his head tilting to one side. “I am quite satisfied by tonight’s meal; it was delicious. Thank you for your hard work. I have never gone hungry, so long as you are in the kitchen. But I feel as though you have gone unsatisfied…”

Your breath stutters as your gaze drifts down to the bulge in Gadriel’s sweatpants. It felt too obscene to see that part of an angel; to know that they lusted and wanted just as a fragile mortal. It feels even worse to stare at it, but when you drag your gaze up to Gadriel’s face, you find his expression is as hungry as his body. Your legs clench as though you can feel his tongue against the apex of your thighs as he licks his lips.

“I would never demand you to feed me, my lord,” you protest weakly.

“Nor would answer your demand,” Gadriel counters. You try to hold your ground as he advances, but Gadriel's oppressive weight eventually pushes you against the steel wall behind you. It cools your sizzling skin but doesn't temper the flame of your arousal.

One of Gadriel's hands reaches out to touch the meat of your bottom lip, skimming the bite marks in the soft flesh. You can smell the nourishing oils from his bath earlier, making his skin soft and tender. You resist the urge to lick it, even though your mouth is watering.

“I want you to beg for it.” His growling voice makes your belly clench. Suddenly you feel horrifically empty; starving to feel Gadriel inside of you even if he would shred you alive.

“Please feed me, my lord. Fill me with your need and allow me to sate you.” Your lips brush against Gadriel’s thumb with each word, and you punctuate your pleas with a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb.

“Open wide,” is his only warning before Gadriel pushes you to the floor. He's gentle about it, but for an angel, it means you're lucky that your knees don't break when they impact with the floor. He winces when you do, and whispers “sorry,” as he runs his fingers through your hair as penance. With his opposite hand, Gadriel slowly pulls down his sweatpants until his cock manages to pop out. He's not as long as you expected him to be, but he is deliciously thick and veiny, with a large, red head. The dusting of golden hair on his crotch is well-groomed…had he been expecting you? 

Waiting for you?

Wanting you?

This is a delicacy to be savored. Opening your mouth, you press a sucking kiss to the head of his cock before sticking out your tongue to wet his slit. He's still too long for you to take him wholly into your mouth, so you use one hand to stroke what you cannot reach as your mouth slowly engulfs him.

Gadriel's primal groan is sweet on your ears, as is his hand pushing your face further into his groin. The head of his cock bumps the back of your throat and your futile attempts to relax your throat to take more only make you gag sloppily. A dribble of saliva is forced out from the corner of your mouth with his next thrust.

If looking at Gadriel's bulging cock was obscene, this is a blessing. Your only lament is that you cannot take the whole of his cock into your mouth so that he could properly fuck your throat. But you take some sadistic pleasure in watching the tremble of his hips as he valiantly holds himself back.

The hallway behind the kitchen is soon filled with the wet noises of your sucking and Gadriel's deep moans. Your muffled whimpering joins in as your free hand dives under your apron and into your pants to touch yourself. It feels wrong to take your pleasure when Gadriel hasn't finished, but the burning between your legs is only heightened by his noises.

Your sounds do not go unnoticed by his sensitive hearing, and his chuckle sends shivers down your spine. “Does this make you feel good? I can make you feel even better than your mere fingers. Would you like that?”

With your eyes watery, your lips puffy, and your face red with exertion, you're sure you look like a mess. But Gadriel's blue gaze is soft as he watches your mouth contract around his cock.

“Would you like that?” He repeats, gentler this time, and you nod, unintentionally bobbing around his cock so his breath stutters. “G-good.”

Your whine of pleasure turns to one of disappointment as Gadriel pulls his cock from your mouth, glistening with your saliva. You don't even have time to wipe your lips before Gadriel tugs you to your feet with one hand on your shoulder.

Lifting you against the wall until you're at eye-level with him, Gadriel pulls you in for a kiss. It muffles your initial “mmph!” on impact, but Gadriel's lips coax softer sounds out of you. You can taste the slight sweetness of cream on his mouth from tonight's dessert. Pressed between the bulk of his chest and the unforgiving wall, you just barely fit your arms around Gadriel's shoulders to run up and down his back. Under your hands, his broad shoulders flex and bulge.

Your kiss breaks with a quiet smacking sound and Gadriel steps back for a moment. He takes the time to step out of his pants, though he doesn't remove his shirt. There's a thin sheen of sweat gathering at his collar that you want to lick, but it dawns on you that you’re in the middle of a hallway behind the kitchen.

“My l-lord, should w-we really b-be doing this?” Gadriel’s hand pauses as he reaches for the strings of your apron.

“Do you want to? If you are afraid of the consequences, then I will cover for you. It is no trouble,” he says quickly as you open your mouth. “I want this.”

“I want this, too. I just feel a little…” You gesture to the hallway. “Exposed. And we are not fucking in the kitchen.”

Gadriel chuckles, pressing his powerful arms against the wall. His head tilts downwards until you are fully boxed in, sheltered by his body. Occasionally, you can feel his breath feathering the top of your hair. “Still feeling exposed?”

“Not anymore, my lord.” You smile at him, which he returns.

You meet again for another kiss; gentler this time. Gadriel's jaw rubs yours and you can feel the stubble under his chin where he missed shaving in the bath. His hands slide down your body, spanning the entire length of your ribcage before dipping down to cup your ass and lift once more against the wall. He breaks the kiss and tilts down to kiss your neck before nibbling. It's almost ticklish, and you giggle for a second until he bites.

“Oh, oh,” one of your legs attempts to kick out but Gadriel holds you firmly against the wall. Almost as if he's showing off, he holds you with one hand while his other unties the strings of your apron.

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. You manage a trembling no, and he nips underneath your right ear. Gadriel lets go of your legs again and backs up by a half step.

“Turn around for me and put your hands against the wall for me...yes, just like that.” Gadriel presses a fleeting kiss you the back of your neck before his weight leaves you. You feel his bulk settling somewhere behind you, under you, and his hands reach around to your front in order to unbuckle your belt and pull down your pants. The cool air hits your bare skin, but even as Gadriel pulls down your underwear, you still don't feel chilled. Not when his warm hands are caressing your ass and spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole.

“Now this is a treat,” he murmurs under his breath before leaning in and licking a stripe up your crack. The warmth and wetness of his tongue on your most intimate and vulnerable place makes you melt and moan. Your breath fogs up the steel wall as you pant from his questing tongue.

Not only is he skilled, but he is also relentless. Gadriel assaults your tight pucker with licks and sucks; if anyone dared to walk down this hallway, they wouldn't need to round the corner to hear the lewd noises that bounce off the walls. You hide your burning red face in your folded arms against the wall, but it does nothing to quiet your moaning and whimpering.

Once your hole is properly wetted, Gadriel sits back on his heels to admire his handiwork. You dare to look over your shoulder down at him. His expression is so fucking smug that it would be almost insulting, if it weren't for the fact that you were both naked from the waist down.

“You're being very good,” he murmurs, giving your ass a squeeze, “just a little longer, all right? I don't want to hurt you.”

“All right.” You turn your face back into your arms, but not before you watch Gadriel insert three fingers into his mouth. There's a soft sucking noise, akin to the sound he made while he ate your ass. He wets them thoroughly and pulls them out of his mouth with a pop.

Though your previous experiences with anal were few and far between, you know enough that you don't flinch when the first of Gadriel's thick fingers breaches your asshole. He's loosened you enough so there's nothing more than a brief pinching sensation before he's able to start pushing in and out.

“You're very tight in here,” Gadriel muses, “has it been a long time?” When you hesitate, he kisses the swell of your ass cheek. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“It's been a while,” you hedge, “with, ah, work and everything.”

“You work so hard,” and Gadriel thrusts more forcefully on the word hard, making you gasp, “let me help you relax.” He adds a second finger, and you moan at the stretch.

You attempt to raise a counterpoint, “I-I serve...the angels...”

“Then let me serve you, for a chance.” Gadriel spreads his fingers apart to scissor you open. “I wasn't lying when I said I'm always satisfied with your meals. You feed me so well.”

When he adds the third finger, your vision goes white. Your moaning has turned into sobbing, tears of pleasure running down your cheeks. You could cum like this if not for the larger prize awaiting you.

Gadriel seems to notice, and he slowly withdraws his fingers from your hole, making a lewd, squelching sound. You don't know whether you're more turned on by the sound or by what it means when Gadriel stands up. You attempt to brace yourself against the wall for the punishing pounding you're about to receive, but Gadriel grasps you by the waist and turns you around one final time.

“I want to see you when I take you.” You lean on him to untie your shoes and take your pants off all the way, and when he lifts you in his arms one final time, his blue eyes fill you with warmth.

“Thank you.”

This is a familiar position for you by now, with your thighs bracketing Gadriel's sides and his chest pressed against yours—only this time, the head of Gadriel's cock rubs against your stretched, wet hole. You rock your hips until it catches the rim of your ass. You're not sure who gasps when the head sinks into you.

You scrabble for purchase on Gadriel's back and he holds you closer, sinking in little by little. “Angel,” you choke into his ear, and he responds with a cracked moan of your name.

He's so big. That's the only thing running through your mind. Though you held Gadriel's cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago, it somehow feels longer and thicker as he sinks you down onto it. When you feel his balls on the swell of your ass, you can't help looking down to make sure there's not a bulge in your stomach.

“It's in?” Gadriel pants, and you nod.

“It's in. A-all of it. Oh, Throne, I took all of it...” He chuckles weakly, kissing your temple. 

“Do you think you're ready for me to move?”

“Yes!” The word is barely out of your mouth before Gadriel thrusts, pushing you upwards against the wall. You scrabble for purchase on his back, rucking up his shirt and exposing some of his ports.

“So tight, am I hurting you? You feel...so good.” Gadriel pants directly into your ear, his warm breath cascading down the collar of your shirt.

“No, doesn't hurt, but—” Gadriel fucking stops and you muffle your scream by biting his shoulder. “It feels like you're splitting me in half!”

“That's the plan,” he huffs, and resumes thrusting. The positioning is a little awkward; you almost wish Gadriel took you from behind. But on a particularly harsh thrust that makes your toes curl, you watch Gadriel's lips part softly and his eyes roll back into his head.

That alone makes everything worth it.

Despite your best efforts, you cum first. Gadriel holds you through it, continuing to grind his cock into your asshole so you can ride it out. When you pull back, you stammer your apologies at the wet spot your orgasm left on his shirt.

“No, don’t apologize. It was beautiful.” Gadriel kisses you, gently wiping your tears with his thumb. “Do you want me to cum in you?” When he grinds into you again, you swear his balls feel fuller than before.

“Please, Gadriel,” you whimper, and his next kiss devours your mouth. You can barely breathe even through your nose as your oversensitive ass is pounded by Gadriel’s cock, molding your hole to its shape. When Gadriel pulls away, the long string of saliva connecting your mouth snaps as his head throws back with a deep moan. You seize the moment to pounce and bite down on his exposed neck, relishing in the whine Gadriel makes as he pumps your ass full of hot, sticky cum.

After all the sounds you’ve made, the hallway is silent as you both come down. You nibble on Gadriel’s neck and rub his back, careful to avoid his ports lest you overstimulate him. His hands squeeze your thighs in appreciation before lowering you onto the ground. Both of you wince as his cock slips out of you.

“Oops,” Gadriel laughs sheepishly, reaching beyond you. Looking over your shoulder, you watch Gadriel touch a dent in the wall made by his forceful thrusts.

“It’s all right; nothing important is on the side of that wall,” you reassure him with a kiss. Gadriel helps you put your pants and shoes on, sneaking kisses and copping feels as he ties your apron.

“Did you at least enjoy it?” The shy expression on his face is so cute, you want to kiss him—so you do.

“It was amazing. But I think I would enjoy it more in a bed.” You lean back and stretch, wincing as your back cracks.

“That can be arranged, if you’d like?” Gadriel pauses in the middle of pulling his sweatpants back on. “I understand there is a stereotype of Space Marines sleeping on slabs of rock, but my bed is quite comfortable.”

“I’m very tempted,” and Gadriel’s nigh rakish grin is enough to make you reconsider, “but I have other plans for the rest of my night. Though you’re welcome to join me?”

It takes a few minutes to reheat the sauce, as it has coagulated since dinnertime. But soon, the kitchen fills with the sounds and smells of simmering red wine sauce and grand chestnuts. You let the sauce go while you prepare the roast. Gadriel’s patience is adorable; keeping his hands to himself as you occasionally pass him with hot pans and sharp knives.

The kitchen is quiet as you both eat, hunched over the counter. You savor every bite, letting the tender flesh fill your mouth. With the tender sweetness of the grand chestnuts breaking up the robust flavor of the roast and the acidic quality of the sauce, it’s the perfect dish.

Well…

Your eyes cut over to Gadriel. He catches you staring and gently nudges you with his elbow, eyes twinkling.

Almost perfect.

[littleeyesofpallas]

So I guess this is a good time to do a recap of some old Ukitake posts: [1][2][3][4][5][6]

Ukitake[浮竹] Juushirou[十四郎] actually has one of my favorite names in the series as it feels like it says a lot about his core concept beyond what we're really given in canon. The family name reads uki-[浮]: "Floating" and take-[竹]: "Bamboo." That same "floating" is part of the word fuurou[浮浪]: "vagrant/vagabond" and a few other colloquial terms, a generally circling around a homeless person or a drifter. (In fact the other half of that compound word, [浪] is the "wave" in ronin[浪人]: "wave man/person" as in a masterless samurai.) Bamboo being a staple lumber in Japan of course but also notorious for its fast and rampant growth, as it is quick to spread and choke out other plants in an environment. The idea of "floating..." or "vagrant bamboo" gives an impression of being plentiful and common, even excessive.

The personal name, Juushirou[十四郎] just reads "14(th) Son" which always implied he came from a large family. A profile in the back of vol. 18 long ago confirmed he had brothers and sisters, but curiously all younger than him. The implication seemed clear that as a sickly person from a big family, he was poor and that there were 13 prior children who died before him, which is really the only reason you'd name a child the way they did. This feels like it works in tandem with the family name to again emphasize a family of many, but also almost expendable. The big family is also why he's got an affinity for children

That said it always felt to me like the backstory should have been more grim? Like rather than just praying to a god to save his life, it seemed more like he should have been a sacrifice made to ensure the family line continued. Like first 13 kids died, they were afraid he was their last chance, but he was sickly, so they sacrificed him to basically ensure the next ones would come out alright. Hence the kids younger than him surviving in spite of the ominous past implied by his name.

(Also the "shiro" phonetics in his name as a homonym with shiro[白]:white point to his hair. Kubo makes an explicit joke about this as Toshiro, also white haired, shares a similar wordplay, his name Toshirou[冬獅郎] meaning "Winter Lion Son.")

Then there's his shikai, Sougyo-no-Kotowari[双魚理] which reads "PairFish's Reason/Logic/Natural way of things." (sougyo-kyu[双魚宮] is the Japanese name of the constellation Pisces.) It appears to be an allusion to daoism/onmyodo, and the yin-yang diagram of balance, and this theme gets built upon by other contextual information like the zanpakutou arc's designs borrowing from onmyoji, and Ukitake's presence in conjunction with fish imagery and metaphor in the Jaws of Hell arc.

The little preamble to that chapter, about the two fish in balance until one dies and then the other grows bigger, is itself synonymous with sougyo-no-kotowari: The Natural Order of Two Fish.

The release command [波悉く我が盾となれ]: "All Waves be my shield," [雷悉く我が刃となれ]: "All LightningBolts be my blade" is fairly straight forward and just evokes the image of a stormy sea, which actually seems to have surprisingly little to do with the rest of the themes in play? I mean sure, waves and fish and floating, but when the floating and fish are less than literal the waves and lightning without any additional reading feel kind of out of place?

Of note: the onymoji was a prestigious class of sort of advisor in the japanese imperial court was at its peak in the Heian period, the long standing era of peace in ancient Japan that came just before the descent into the civil war of the Sengoku period. (Subsequently the onmyoji lost most of their power and clout during the waring states period as power shifted from the imperial court to the shogunate.) They were associated with and consulted for a wide range of things from medicine, to architecture, to city planning and meteorology, and divination, and perhaps most well loved by media, as exorcists. This ties into things like his beyond bankai form in Bleach Brave Souls where they opt for a more shinto purification theme, in either case making him fit something of a paragon role as Shinigami as ""cleansing"" hollows rather than destroying them.

Actually those shinto motifs all link to the recent addition of shinto themes in Mimihagi pretty directly, but I'll get to that in a bit...

It's worth noting that with Kyoraku's emphasis on a leisurely city life in the capital(Kyoto), and the onmyo mystic themes of Sougyo-no-kotowari, Kyoraku and Ukitake appear to both represent aspects of the Heian period, and thus cultures that predate the Sengoku period, and the rise of the samurai, lending to their role as two of the most senior members of the gotei 13.

People often forget but technicaly Ukitake was the first captain we were introduced to, well before Byakuya showed up, the Captain title just wasn't present at the time. When Rukia has her flashback to a then uncertain event while Ichigo fights Grandfisher, it's Ukitake she's hearing speak and that we catch just a brief glimpse of the back of the head of. Like I said there were no captain ranks in the story a that point, so he just appears as long flowing white hair over an all black shihakusho. I think his hair was always meant to help him embody an element of balance between black and white, and thus the very series title: Bleach.

I think there was always an implicit siniste quality to the idea of "Balance" underlying the shinigami that Kubo tried to gesture towards with the general vibe of the Soul Society -v- Rukongai dynamics, the Shibas, that flicker of a twist in the Fullbringer arc that Ichigo just ignored, and even with a lot of the loose and ultimately unfulfilled themes he set up for the TYBW arc with Yhwach's plans for a new world and Juugram's Balance schrift.

Oh I forgot the whole MIMIHAGI bit, despite teh being the whole subject of this week's episode:

東流魂街七十六地区『逆骨』に伝わる単眼異形の土着神。

An indigenous God of Grotesque/Suspicious Single-eye passed down in East Rukongai 76(th) zone "Sakahone(Reverse Bone)"

太古の昔、天より瀞霊廷に落ちて来た霊王の右手を祀ったとされるもので、自らの持つ「眼」���外のすべてを捧げた者に加護をもたらすと言い伝えられている。

(In)Ancient Times, From Heaven to the Seireitei the fallen right hand of the Rei-Oh is said to have been enshrined.

浮竹の行った『神掛』は、体内に宿るミミハギ様の力を全身の臓腑へと広げる事で、全ての臓腑をミミハギ様に捧げ、その依り代になる儀式である。

Ukitake's performed "Kamikake(God debt)" was, the power of MIMIHAGI dwelling in the body spreading to the whole of the viscera/entrails, offer up all of your entrails to MIMIHAGI-sama, it is a ceremony/ritual to become a Yorishiro*

『神掛』を成功させた浮竹は、霊王の右腕そのものとなった。

Ukitake succeeded at/with "Kamikake", he had become the right hand of the Rei-Oh.

*i don't have a more concise way to translate this... the translation listed run something like "object representative of a divine spirit"/" object to which a spirit is drawn or summoned"/"object or animal occupied by a kami​" and it's specifically a shinto thing.

When you see big deified trees with the shimenawa ropes and shide paper talismans, those trees are yorishiro. or rather they're Shintai, because a Yorishiro is a thing capable of being host to a kami, the Shintai is after they've been deified. (And technically when you do that to a person it would be called Yorimashi, not Yorishiro. I don't know if that's meant to specifically dehumanize Ukitake or if its a broad enough term that it doesnt really make a difference. Although if you really wanted to stretch it you could argue that Ukitake is an object and not a person because he did die from his illness and the thing deified wasn't a "living" person it was a corpse. Which would very curiously position him as an inversion of Ichigo, who was human, "died" in that his soul was deliberately severed from his body, but continued to operate as nominally human while getting to dip a toe into the shinigami powers and the spirit world.)

These little eye catch data cards really aren't giving us anything new huh?

[leilakisakabiri]

Haunted House (Gavi)

Summary: You’re Gavi’s hometown friend and connect after months apart. One thing leads to another and soon you’re acting a little too friendly in a haunted house. 

Warning(s): None 

A/N: Surprise it’s me! I’ve missed you guys so much. Here’s a draft I had from a while ago. I heard there was a little Gavi drought so I’m here to provide. Also working on new stuff right now. Getting to requests soon!

Word Count: 2k+

Masterlist

“Oh my god, you’ve grown so much!” You exclaimed, hugging Gavi as you got off the train.

“Shut up Y/n. You saw me last summer.”

“No seriously. Last time you were down here.” You retorted, moving your hand down near your shoulder to show how short he once was.

He let out a dry laugh, “Haha. Well, I’m still taller than you.”

“By an inch. And I’m a girl!”

“Wow I thought you were all about feminism Y/n wha-,”

You hit his shoulder in annoyance, cutting him off, “Not like that! I mean I’m on the taller side for girls, and you’re on the..” you trailed off a smile taking over your face as you saw him give you the dirtiest side-eye.

It was October in Barcelona and Autumn was in full swing. The wind wrapped around the both of you as you walked, the leaves falling encompassing the city in shades of orange and brown. The air was crisp, and the smell of hazelnut and toffee wafted through the air from various street vendors.

You finally approached your destination and you let out a squeal seeing how massive it was, “Holy shit I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger haunted house!”

You felt Gavi stiffen beside you, “Yeah it looked a lot smaller in the photos.”

You turned to look at him, eyes gleaming, “Oh c’mon tell me you’re not scared.”

“Pfft. What no way!”

You narrowed your eyes at him but let it slide. 

“Let’s go.” You said grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with you.

Once you had made it through the queue and got your tickets, the reality of the situation began to set it in.

The two of you were at Barcelona’s scariest and most famous haunted house. In years past attendees had fled the property saying they were too shocked and mentally scarred to recall what they saw. People had speculated for years that those customers had been paid off, and you believed it, now, however, standing in front of the gloomy house you were beginning to realize there could have been some truth to the story after all.

You were always a big fan of anything scary – after all Halloween was your favorite holiday for a reason. You were known in your friend group as the only one that would willingly watch horror movies, and play ‘supernatural’ games, always interested in the slightly darker things in life. However, even you, who could handle all of that, were a wee bit scared of the haunted house in front of you.

It was one thing to watch movies where you could predict what was going to happen, and yell at the main character through the screen, but to actually live through it, where someone could jump out at you around every turn was a little unnerving.

Especially since you were going with Gavi, someone who was notoriously known for avoiding those types of things at all costs. The only reason Gavi had agreed to come with you was because he had been asking you to come to Barcelona for weeks and this was the only way you would make the trip up. A compromise you could say. But now even you were wishing you took up Gavi’s offer to go to the aquarium instead.

The worker operating the front of the house called you over, pulling you from your thoughts.

“2?” He asked.

You both nodded, and he opened the door allowing you to enter.

You were greeted with a vast entry room with ceilings extending about 30 feet up and walls covered in cobwebs. The only light source was a barely there candlelight flickering in and out.

The monitor in front of you started playing. It explained the rules of the haunted house, and you felt yourself become more nervous once they started talking about the former customers they had tormented hard enough into leaving.

Suddenly the monitor cut off, leaving only the candlelight as a light source. You both watched as a new door creaked open.

You felt your palms begin to sweat.

You both stood rooted in place.

“Gavi,” You finally spoke, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of scared.”

Gavi whipped his head to look at you, panic already visible in his eyes, “Wait what?! Don’t say that Y/n, I’m already scared! You said you liked haunted houses!” He exclaimed.

You pursed your lips, “I usually do, but I feel on edge.”

The candlelight flickered off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness aside from the green glow of the open door.

“Oh shit Y/n I knew this was a bad idea. Fuck, what do we-?”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before a man with a chainsaw and a painted clown face jumped at him, sending the boy into overdrive.

He screamed, hands scrambling to grab your body as he rushed forward into the green glow, desperate to escape the killer clown.

Gavi’s scream set you into a fit of laughter, and you let yourself be tugged by him, too weak from laughing to stop him.

“Joder I swear I just went into cardiac arrest.” He said letting go of you and catching his breath.

You contained your laughter, only a few giggles escaping, beginning to feel at ease again now that the haunted house had officially begun.

“At least the first scare out of the way! The first one is always the scariest!” You said brightly walking forward, further into the house.

You felt him mutter something behind you, probably about how you were such a good friend for caring so much about him, but you didn’t give it a second thought too engrossed in the house.

You continued walking as random creatures jumped out of broken windows and walls trying to grab you, but you were quick to sidestep them. You noticed Gavi walking extremely close behind you to the point where you were sure that if you let your foot rest for a second longer on the ground he would step on it.

You finally stopped when you could feel him breathing down your neck, the little puffs of warm air sending tingles down your spine. 

“Y/n don’t make fun of me but I’m kinda scared.”

You just stared at him.

“Ok maybe really scared. This isn’t good for me you know, I have training I can’t be getting my blood pressure up like this.” He persisted.

You groaned, “Oh my god – fine just hold my hand.” You tried to remain annoyed but you couldn’t stop the flutter in your stomach when his warm hand enveloped yours.

You stared at each other and you debated saying something before the moment was cut short by Gavi’s shrill scream, having gotten scared by an actor that jumped out of the wall.

You pulled him along with you as you entered a vortex tunnel with a faulty bridge.

“Nope. No way, I’m going to have an aneurysm.” Gavi spoke once seeing the path, trying to pull his hand away but you held on tighter.

“There’s only one way to go. Just close your eyes and give me your other hand.” You argued.

He groaned but did as he was told, “I hate you.” He muttered as you moved to grab his other hand and put both over your shoulders standing in front of him.

“Oh please you love me.” You smirked, starting to make your way through the tunnel.

He didn’t answer but you felt his grip on your hands tighten and you smiled softly.

You were almost done with the tunnel when you abruptly stopped causing Gavi to run into you.

“Why are we stopping?” He asked.

You bit your lip, not wanting to admit the truth.

“What? Is it that scary?” He questioned opening his eyes.

“I don’t see anything?”

“There’s a bird.” You whispered, eyes never leaving the small bird flying manically around the hallway, seemingly trying to find its way out after getting trapped.

“Y/n Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of birds.” Gavi shook his head smiling.

You sneered, “Of course I am. Those things are demonic.”

He rolled his eyes at your antics.

You had been terrified of birds since the day you were born, anything that could fly, peck, and chase you scared the shit out of you. And now the fact that a bird was flying around frantically, in an enclosed space, that you had to walk through- oh shit, you were going to die here because there was no way you were walking past that bird on your own free will.

“Please keep moving.” An operator’s voice sounded.

You groaned, putting your head in your hands as you decided what to do.

“Y/n we have to go.” Gavi urged, attempting to move you forward but you stood still.

“Just give me a second.”

“Here I’ll hold you, ok? That way the bird can’t get to your eyes. Only mine.” Gavi spoke.

You laughed at his weak excuse for a joke, weighing your options, “Fine but if that thing even touches me I’m shoving you into it and running.”

Gavi smiled down at you as he wrapped an arm around you, “Oh Y/n what a sweetheart you are.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before curling into him, snuggling your face into the side of his sweater, and squeezing your eyes shut so the bird couldn’t claw them out.

He wrapped both arms around you, shielding your head and shoulders from the bird.

You felt the birds squawking get closer and pulled him even closer, “I got you linda relax.”

His voice was soft in your ear, and you focused your attention on him and the beating of his heart rather than the manic bird two inches away.

Once the threat had been cleared you lifted your head in disbelief, “You’re alive! I can’t believe it, I thought for sure the bird would have had one of your eyes at least.”

He gasped at you, his arms loosening around you, as he dropped one, the other sliding to rest on your waist, “Oh please. It wasn’t even bad, poor birdie just couldn’t find the exit.”

“Yeah poor birdie.” You muttered sarcastically.

The rest of the haunted house passed uneventfully, and thankfully there were no more jump scares, saving Gavi from the cardiac arrest he claimed would be happening any day now.

Gavi’s hand stayed around your waist for the remainder of the house and while you could lie and say it was because he was still scared, you knew that the way he was holding you and the way you were leaning into him was a little too friendly to just be because of ‘nerves’.

Once you got to the outside world again you moved away from him, your eyes adjusting to the light.

“Well, thanks for coming with me Gavi.” You said, feeling grateful that your blush had faded when you were still in the dark.

“Woah this again! What’s with Gavi?” He asked you, an irritated look on his face.

Your eyebrows rose in shock, “That’s your name?” You asked confused about why he seemed annoyed.

“No I’m Pablo.” He said referring to the name that nearly no one called him anymore.

“Pretty sure the whole country knows you as Gavi estupido.” You rolled your eyes, hand coming up to hit his head playfully.

Gavi grabbed your hand, squeezing it, “Yeah but to you, I’m Pablo, ok?” His voice was sincere, and his eyes were shiny and bright.

You gave him a puzzled look, but still squeezed back, “Ok.”

You went to drop your hands, but he caught you by surprise again, holding yours firmly, “I think I like this better. My hand’s a little cold. You know it being fall and all.”

You smiled biting the inside of your cheek to not give yourself away, stay cool Y/n! 

You nodded at him, “Oh for sure. Can’t have Barca’s golden boy falling sick.”

[bl-bracket]

Build-a-BL: Off the Market

From Aof Noppharnach and Jojo Tichakorn, comes a new show.

Night (First Kanaphan) has been struggling financially for years now, having to pay off his late mother's debts. Until one day he hears about the opportunity of a lifetime. At the upcoming local night market, there is going to be a special exhibit, featuring many priceless artifacts for display. A new job opportunity puts Night right by the artifacts. If he can manage to just grab one of the items being displayed, selling it would give him more than money to pay off the remaining debt and set up a new and good life for himself. But stealing something with such tight security is not a task for one man.

Ace (Khaotung Thanawat) is a burnt out private eye who had long been disillusioned about what good he could do against all the corruption in the world. What's worse, his cases keep causing him to run into Mercy (Mix Sahaphap), a notorious jewel thief that gets in his way and under his skin. At first he wrote it off as an unlucky coincidence, but when Mercy kept showing up at all of his cases, even those that there was no real reason for Mercy to be involved, he had to concede that for some reason Mercy was pursuing him. Against his better judgment, Ace finds himself in bed with Mercy more than he'd care to admit.

When Ace hears about a night market hosting a series of valuable items for display, his private eye senses scream at him that there's something more to what's on display, which is how he meets Night. Inevitably Mercy also gets involved and soon the trio find themselves tangled together as they begin to unravel something far bigger and sinister than they imagine.

Meanwhile, Night's estranged step-sister Dawn (Milk Pansa) is a rookie detective. When she hears about suspicious activity surrounding a night market, she goes to investigate, but is surprised that none of her superiors seem to have any interest in the matter. Things get more complicated when she keeps hearing the name Viper (Bible Wichapas), a respected businessman that all her colleagues seem to respect, tied to what's happening at the night market. What's more, she recently met the mysterious Ruby (Silvy Pavida), who seems to know more than she lets on, but Dawn finds herself inexplicably drawn to her.

Things only escalate by the sudden involvement of Prince (Jeff Satur) a master thief and Mercy's long time rival. Except Prince doesn't seem to be at the night market to steal and his apparent connection with Viper causes more confusion.

Will Night, Ace, and Mercy be able to work together to accomplish their goals? Will the tangled web of corruption be revealed? What are they willing to sacrifice to create the future they want for themselves?

(Full list of details under cut. Also this is 100% a collaborative effort and is about as public domain as a concept for a fictional show can be. If there is anything you want to add or make, please do! Tag me too because I want to see lol)

Country of Origin: Thailand

Primary Genre: Heist

Secondary Genre: Detective

Primary Location: Night Market

Director: Aof Noppharnach (He's Coming to Me, Dark Blue Kiss, A Tale of Thousand Stars, Bad Buddy, Moonlight Chicken, Last Twilight)

Screenwriter: Jojo Tichakorn (3 Will Be Free, Only Friends)

Main Relationship: Throuple

Main Actor: First Kanaphan (The Shipper, Not Me, The Eclipse, Moonlight Chicken, Only Friends)

Love Interests: Khaotung Thanawat (2gether, A Tale of Thousand Stars, The Eclipse, Moonlight Chicken, Only Friends) and Mix Sahaphap (A Tale of a Thousand Stars, Cupid's Last Wish, Moonlight Chicken)

Heat Level: Maximum Heat (Love in the Air, Kinnporsche, Big Dragon)

Number of side couples: 1

Side Couple: Milk Pansa (Bad Buddy, Vice Versa, 23.5) & Silvy Pavida (The Warp Effect, Laws of Attraction)

Antagonists: Jeff Satur (Ingredients, Kinnporsche, Wuju Bakery) & Bible Wichapas (Kinnporsche)

Tropes: Enemies with Benefits & “I would burn the world for you” & Found Family & Anti-Establishment & Sponge Bath

Character Color Theme: Dark Blue (First Kanaphan), Purple (Khaotung Thanawat), Hot Pink (Mix Sahaphap)

Ending Type: Happy Ending

Show Title: Off the Market

Character names: First Kanaphan - Night, Khaotung Thanawat - Ace, Mix Sahaphap - Mercy, Milk Pansa - Dawn, Silvy Pavida - Ruby, Jeff Satur - Prince, Bible Wichapas - Viper

[danothan]

i am female manipulating you….tell me about your hyperfixations and special interests…..

!! well my biggest hypfix rn is arcane and my most pressing special interest is dc, so i’ve been trying to find as many similarities as i can between my respective faves (aka jayce talis and barry allen). no other reason than self-indulgent crossovers and categorizational satisfaction U__U

i’ve done this before, but now i’m also adding a visual component by comparing screenshots/panels! here’s a taste:

[s2e1 spoilers below cut]

i was thinking abt what i said abt their compartmentalizing tendencies, which led me to think abt the different ways jayce confides in his loved ones and how that plays into his inability to see the bigger picture. after his partner viktor nearly dies in the councilroom attack, jayce confides in mel (gf) for emotional support but tells caitlyn (family friend) what he’s actually thinking. when mel asks how viktor’s doing and jayce responds “he’s still breathing,” it feels defeated but leaves room for hope. when cait asks the same, he tells her “honestly, i don’t even know if he’s still in there,” like there’s less stakes to have to hide behind optimism

that’s not to say he isn’t vulnerable w mel ofc, he lies his head in her lap and allows her to comfort him thru his survivor’s guilt. however, this only reassures his emotional unease (sm to be said abt this x his argument style, but that’s for another day). with cait, he’s definitely not confiding for comfort lmao (i still think it’s funny and so very little sister of her to ask jayce how his dying partner is doing and then immediately start venting abt her own problems). instead, it’s more like jayce is trying to process, even if it’s just to be honest w himself

all of this to say, the ppl in jayce’s life have specific roles, which means he goes to them for specific things. this is a normal thing that pretty much everyone does, but in jayce’s case, his compartmentalizing feeds into his tunnel vision + influenceable disposition. having specific ppl for specific things is great for not burdening any one person w all of your problems, but it makes it harder for him to see the bigger picture outside of himself. there’s a reason why jayce is notorious for his recency bias; it’s easy to get lost in the details when you can only see what’s being reflected at you in a given moment

this tendency to compartmentalize is a trait jayce shares w barry “i try not to blur the lines” allen. if anyone is going to have specific ppl for specific things, it’s gonna be the guy that splits his life into two personas (that he refuses to overlap yet can’t exist without the other, but hey, who’s keeping track?). barry does it a little differently tho; whereas jayce is very external in his emotions, barry is internal, going so far as to use his powers to speedrun his grief alone so he can be there for other ppl instead

they’re both very intense in their emotions, but barry bottles his up until they reach a boiling point. if he confides in someone, there’s a calculated secrecy that jayce doesn’t have. for example, barry’s best friend hal (who knew him first as the flash) usually has to force barry to admit his feelings abt smth, while his gf/wife iris (who knew him first as barry) feels like she’s pulling teeth to get any information out of him. “flash is flash, barry is barry”; he tries not to blur the lines, and this extends to the ppl that know him

it’s not that barry wants to hide himself (in fact, his love language is to understand and to be understood), he just has a hard time letting any one person know all of him. he’s social and sensitive but selectively vulnerable. it’s like he scatters fragments of himself so that everyone can have a piece, but no one has the full picture. it’s no surprise he isn’t able to see the big picture himself

between their compartmentalization, their short-sightedness, and their audacious idea of protecting their loved ones, i think the jayce-to-barry pipeline was inevitable for me lol. but interestingly enough, i never realized how different they were in their similarities until i wrote it all out here! i hope this makes sense if you aren’t familiar w the characters, it’s definitely been enlightening for me ^__^

[igbylicious]

*BANGING AGAINST THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE* SCI-FI 99 LINE SCI-FI 99 LINE SCI-FI 99 LINE SCI-FI 99 LINE

YESSSSSS 99 LINE SCIFI ASDKJDSJSDJKSDKJSJKD <3<3<3

okay so this came to me when i felt nostalgic abt firefly lol, so there's a few obvious inspiration points from there. the basic rundown is this;

the 99ers are down-on-their-luck space smugglers who dabble in some minor piracy to make ends meet

the only thing their ratty old, cramped ship has got going for it, is its stealth; so they sneakily poach goods off of big transport ships. when all goes well, they're long gone before the stolen goods (and optional knocked out security) are discovered <3

they're a ragtag bunch, but they're good at what they do

one day, based on a tip from the notorious information broker Kim Hongjoong, the 99ers steal a very specific crate from a very specific corporate science vessel 👀

they don't know what's in it, but they do know Hongjoong will pay good money for it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

so, um, so they're a little surprised when their stolen goods wake up and try to steal their ship 😬

...that's you. you're the stolen goods.

you're also a highly illegal science experiment, who escaped the clutches of famed nanobiotech developer / your ex-lover -> Park Seonghwa 😬

the 99ers quickly realise they're caught up in something way bigger than they're equipped to deal with; Seonghwa will want you back, but you and them also realise there's smth super shady going on with Hongjoong's interest with you

the fic is extremely slow burn

it's a shaky alliance between you and the 99ers

and at the start they only protect you in the hopes it'll get them out of this mess alive. they'd use you as leverage against either hongjoong or seonghwa in a heartbeat if they thought it'd help them

but as you survive dangers together, are forced to work as a team, (and live in extremely close quarters w/ off the charts sexual tension), things slowly start to shift

so when they finally have the perfect opportunity to throw you under the bus and make it out with their skin intact... they can't

and they risk everything to save you 🥺

(PS: Jongho is a hired gun who works for Seonghwa and makes the crew's life real damn difficult ♡ beloved monster of capitalism ♡ ♡ ♡ )

i don't have a snippet that i'm happy enough w/ to share, but i thought maybe i could share this outline of an early conversation between reader and the 99ers (minus mingi, who is busy fixing the damage reader did to their ship oop). it should give a pretty good idea of what the dynamics are like on this ragtag crew lol

(pls ignore the weird capitalization / grammar rip, my writing process works for me but that doesn't mean it's not a hecken mess ^^;;)

WIP TAG GAME

You: WHO IS IN CHARGE? WHO IS THE CAPTAIN AROUND HERE?

Yunho answers NO ONE simultaneously to Yeosang saying I AM.

It’s not arrogance or ego; Yeosang is genuinely confused. Isn’t he the captain? Didn’t they vote on it?

Yunho: YES AND EVERYONE VOTED FOR THEMSELVES.

I DIDN’T, San pipes up. I VOTED YEOSANG.

Yeosang, puffing up his chest: SEE?

Yunho: YEOSANG, WHO DID YOU VOTE FOR?

Thinks for a moment, then deflates. …AH. I VOTED SAN.

San beams at that, AW, and puts a hand on the back of Yeosang’s neck, gently squeezing. THANK YOU.

Yunho, staying calm but at his limit. OKAY, FINE, SO NOT EVERYONE VOTED FOR THEMSELVES, BUT WE STILL GOT NOTHING OUT OF IT. WE DON’T HAVE A CAPTAIN.

Yeosang still stares in silent disbelief, as though his entire world-view just got shaken to the core. Again; it’s not ego, it’s pure confusion.

Wooyoung flicks an annoyed finger at San’s forehead. WHY DIDN’T YOU VOTE FOR ME?

Immediate belligerence. BECAUSE YOU’RE BOSSY ENOUGH WITHOUT BEING IN CHARGE.

Yunho groans in despair — and though they might not have a formally elected captain, you’re pretty sure you have identified the guy who is, in all the ways that matter, their leader. (Or at least trying to be.)

[shotmrmiller]

Can’t stop thinking of sexist Simon who becomes a girl dad. He gets a one night stand pregnant (lord knows no one’s marrying his sexist ass right about now) and for the entire pregnancy she doesn’t tell him, just drops the baby on his doorstep the second she’s out of the hospital and dips. So Simon’s stuck with this kid who he did want and on top of that is a girl. Do you think he’s still just as sexist? Leading his kid on the path to blow loads of money on therapy in the future? Or do you think he becomes one of those girl dads who adapts? Sure he was a sexist piece of shit before but his own flesh and blood is an extension of him and goddamn anyone who insults that. Maybe it’s for all the wrong reasons, sees his kid more as property. But that doesn’t mean she’s treated like shit because she’s his property and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take care of his shit. And can you imagine this kid wants to join the military? In a combat role nonetheless? Does he shoot it down? Or does he know his child is just as stubborn as him? Does he train them up to become the best female combatant there is? Ugh the possibilities. Somewhat comparing him to my own dad, my dad came from a super rural Texas town and went straight to the marines after. While he wasn’t sexist, he was certainly homophobic and after meeting my mom he did in fact have two bi daughters he had to adapt to (which he did). Just makes me wanna put these little mw guys in these situations, you feel me? 😩

simon isn't a misogynist, he just thinks that there are better suited careers for women that aren't putting their life in danger all day every day, going against men who will always be bigger than them. because sure, sniping is more than fitting but there's never a guarantee that shit will go tits up and then you're in danger. and you can best believe that the mission will almost always take precedence over someone who SHOULD be able to fight off grown men.

anyway, no. he'd do his sloppy best to raise the kid. (truthfully he gives kratos with loki fatherhood vibes)

calls her kid too. teaches her how to live off the land, how to tell which direction she's facing by looking at the sky.

honestly, teaches her how to handle guns at a young age too. He's a notorious name, and if someone finds out about her, she's probably dead.

and about the combat role, he'd probably go over shit, graphically so.

the stuff he's done, he's survived. none of it is heroic.

it's ugly, it's war. and he'd definitely tell her that she's gonna get broken by literally anyone who wants to get rid of her. if HE was SA'd and he's a big, ugly brute of a man, imagine her if she falls into the claws of the enemies.

scare tactics cuz he really doesn't want any of that to happen, there's a bright sparkle in her eyes that he lost long ago, if he ever even had it in the first place due to his shit childhood.

[lurafita]

Pirate Malec AU

Mostly raw dialoge that I will likely never write.

Okay, but like, pirate au but with powers (of ones choosing). The premise is that marine Sergeant Alec went undercover in order to arrest the notorious captain bane. When he hasn't returned after a year, his siblings grow worried and against orders, go in themselves. They find the Pirates in some small Port town, partying with the villagers. They spot Alec quickly in the midst, seemingly enjoying himself. Thinking their brother will give them an easy in with the captain and Crew and then they can help alec take them all in. Of course that doesn’t happen. Not only is alec extremely unhappy to see them, he also outs them to the pirates immediately. Izzy and Jace are so shocked it takes them a while to realize that the pirates aren't attacking them.

Later, in a more private accomodation, talks happen. Alec: "They aren't bad people." Jace: "They are pirates!" Alec: "They saved this very town from a tyrant. They beat two of the ten most dangerous and wanted pirates out there and left them for the Marines to imprison. It's because of them the corruption of the 46th unit of the marine corps came to light. the year I sailed with them, I have saved more people than in my whole military career. Magnus is good, and kind, and more noble than a lot of the people I used to serve under. I won't let you or anyone else lay a hand on him. …. or anyone else of the Crew." Izzy: "You are in love with him." Jace: "You could have told us. We could have arranged a covert meet up. Hell, you could have sent us a fucking carrier bird with a written message. Anything would have been better than letting us think that something may have happened to you!" Alec: "I couldn’t trust you." Izzy, hurt: "Couldn’t trust us? Us?!" Jace, hurt also: "Alec!" Alec: "I'm sorry. I really am. But…. Not with him. With anything else. With my life. But not with Magnus. " Then izzy and jace get up and leave the room. Alec stays behind, dejected.

Later Magnus finds izzy and jace.

Magnus: "This might not be my place to ask, but please try not to be too hard with your brother." Izzy: "he said he doesn't trust us." Magnus: "He does." Jace, scoffing: "Apparently with anything else but you." Magnus: "you all are victims of poor Timing. He does trust you. He missed you. Right now, he just isn't in the right frame of mind."

Izzy: "Why? What could have possibly happened that he would question our loyalty to him?" Jace: "And it better be a good fucking reason because he pissed me off big time!" Magnus: "It's my fault. A while ago, we were anchored at a bigger Port. There we met … someone from my past. An ex girlfriend, and the kind of pirate that you really should arrest if ever you get the opportunity. Captain Camille Belcourt. She came to me asking for help. Said she had changed, that she was trying to make up for her past misdeeds. That there were children in danger. Alexander was suspicious, so was the rest of the Crew, but I… I thought I knew her, that I could read her. Maybe I just wanted to believe that she was capable of more than casual cruelty, and that the Version of her I had loved once, wasn't just a facade. Maybe I was just cocky and reckless. I went alone to meet up with her, and she captured me abroad her ship and sailed off. I was her prisoner for 3 weeks, and the accomodations… left a lot to be desired. When Alexander and the Crew finally caught up and managed to free me, I was on the verge of death. It took me almost 4 months to recover, and for a while, we weren’t sure if I would ever be able to walk again. It's still too fresh in his mind. In everyone’s. It's the reason we came here, to get a bit of a change of scenery. Alexander has been very protective of me. Seeing you has most likely brought up some unpleasant associations with the Marines and incarcerations and seeing me in chains. He loves you. He trusts you. Right now, it's just bad timing."

(do forgive the typos I wrote that on my phone and my phone hates me)

[banmitbandit]

Shoutout to a few of my bloodswap Solluxes :) Infodumps about them in the Keep Reading if I formatted Tumblr Correctly. I just couldn't stop myself from writing a bunch about all of them Q~Q

I always wanna draw more of Sollux so more bloodswaps is obviously the way to go about it :)

Burgundy!Sollux - telosAutotelic

Sollux dies pre-SGRUB, and can't bring up the energy to care about anything anymore, let alone his whole red and blue schtick. Shortly after the game begins, he's "gifted" a new robot body by Equius in return for having done some extensive troubleshooting for him in the past. He's horrified to find his new metal husk has all the features wrong- the horns are wrong, the teeth are wrong, fuck, even the stupid red and blue are wrong, and he hates it so much - he had no idea he could even feel hate anymore - he only uses it when it's more efficient to be a robot than a ghost. He quite literally doesn't have the time to fuck around these days. Equius is miffed his psychological warfare to get Sollux pitch with him fails so spectacularly.

Mutant!Sollux - tacticsAllogeneics

Sollux tells everyone he has red blood, but no one believes him because that's totally not a thing. This is all according to keikaku (Keikaku means plan). Despite this, everyone seems to think he's a pretty cool dude, and so when SGRUB comes around, everyone kind of just looks to him to lead. His only experience with leading is strategy games and a few FLARP sessions. He's absolutely miserable. He ends up learning just how fucked up his friends are in the thinkpans, and it falls on him to have to try and haul their asses into being useful. It causes some ire with his friends who come to the conclusion he sees them as chess pieces rather than people, but really he just wants to get through this game without people kicking the metaphorical bucket. He's forced to play the healer in video games.

Purple!Sollux - tamedAnimus

Sollux is the descendant of one of the most notorious purplebloods of all time, who had the art of subjuggulating down to a science, and he wants nothing to do with his legacy or the church, only maintaining a few rituals out of routine habit. He's found a good couple of heretics who are pretty chill, and as loathe as he is to admit it, he wants to see them thrive. He makes a conscious effort to keep his violent highblooded tendencies in check for them, though his mood swings are both frequent and intense. One problem, a rather big one, is that he can quite literally feel the emotions of those around him, hyper-empathetic to the point where strong emotions from his peers during the game give him migraines. When things start kicking off and people start dying, Sollux acts on the fear, panic, and rage that's flooding him like adrenaline and attacks two of his friends, losing his eye in the process. When everything cools down, guilt eats him into hypervigilance, leaving him paranoid and self-destructive.

Violet!Sollux - trenchantAnglerfish

Sollux has spent his entire life deep underwater, where few seadwellers dare to live. The Continental Catfish keeps itself well fed but Nepeta has difficulty finding the thing most days, so Sollux's small army of fishbots keep an eye on it for her, tracking its movements. Because he's never gone above water, he's something of a NEET, and Nepeta is glad she can push him onto some of her friends when the game starts because he really needs to get out more. He's not the worst, all things considered; he's somewhat petty and spiteful when wronged, but this is mostly a result of his on-again, off-again relationship with Karkat, who happens to think he's a huge tool with an even bigger ego (and his best friend). The first thing he alchemizes is a pair of dark-tinted glasses for his extreme light sensitivity.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

This is also a college Steve and Bucky AU that I can't get out of my head Imagine a jock who is well known for always completing keg stands and winning drinking competitions and being able to guzzle down the most beer without stoping and never being able to back down from a chance at victory and he gets invited to all the parties because people just want to see how much he can take and not-so-slowly he starts to develop a tank of a beer belly that he's in denial about when he's sober and totally doesn't notice when he's drunk and it becomes a novelty at parties to pat him on the gut and hand him another beer and play with his belly and get him as full and as drunk as possible just to see the lasting effects on his growing body, and in his drunken state he slowly starts to enjoy the way people fondle his moobs and play with his gut and call him names with affection, and it eventually transcends into his sober life as well and he longs for people to pat him on the belly and tell him what a good job he's doing and bite his moobs like breasts and he doesn't even know why he has these desires but he finds himself thinking about it constantly, and he only admits how much he wants it when he's too drunk to remember his own name and surrounded by people who are a little more sober than him, who want to make him feel good but also continue to give him beer and alcohol even when he's passed his limit because at the end of the day, they really do just want to see how big they can grow that keg of a gut. He put so much effort into being a jock, and now he's subconsciously putting all that dedication into this instead

Oof, God, yeah, it's like he's turned into the campus mascot! 🥵

And yanno how a lot of college campuses will have those statues around the quad or at the entrance to one of the bigger, more important buildings that has a really shiny part because it's tradition to walk past and pat or rub the statue for luck-?

It's that, but with a student. (I'm thinking Bucky for this 💦)

Just imagine, after a particularly filling party, Bucky is sitting on the couch. His chest is heaving, moobs hanging out, his shirt long gone - who knows if he ripped it off himself in the middle of his feverish, alcohol-induced stupor or if someone managed to peel it off of him when he wasn’t paying attention, too busy consuming - his belly jiggling as he breathes so hard. He’s so packed full and heavy that he’s denting the poor furniture, crushing the padding, making the springs squeak, leaving the wood frame groaning. 

And, as per tradition, when he’s done with the last kegger, groaning his way through it, struggling to fit anything else inside himself, stomach stretched taut so much so that it feels like he’s full up to the back of his throat, even his esophagus filled, people start to come over to rub Bucky’s belly. Drunk college kids stumbling their way toward the spectacle that he’s become, slurring their praises and compliments for how good he did. How big he got. They all know the legend, but it’s one thing to know and another to see.

Bucky is damn notorious for his ability to chug. 

Nobody on campus doesn’t know Bucky’s name (or, really, the shape of Bucky); nobody doesn’t come over when they see him waddling through campus, huffing and puffing, offering at least a high five, if not giving him enough quarters for a soda from one of the many vending machines in every building - gotta keep his capacity up, right?

After guzzling everything the party instigators managed to get their hands on, doing more than one keg because he’s like that, Bucky’s unbelievably big. So round. His skin is clearly throbbing from the stretch of fitting so much inside himself. So, as he sits there, he lazily lets his legs spread wide so his heavy tummy can hang between them, resting on, and overflowing from the couch. He has to take it easy or he’s gonna burst.

So. full. 

As he takes five, his break well-earned, Bucky’s belly gets more and more gurgly under everyone’s hands. The globe attached to him - somehow a part of his body even though it’s so swollen - gets more and more red, too. New stretch marks are almost visibly etching themselves into his skin and he’s begun to shine with sweat, so exerted and heated from consuming so much. Pushing himself so far. 

Soon, a line forms - too many rowdy kids coming over to touch him. 

The touches turn from relatively light pats, everyone wanting to hear how ripe he sounds, thumping him, to harder pinches and slaps. Everyone wants a piece of him. They all want luck from the campus mascot. 

Barrel Gut Bucky Barnes.

No. 1 Greedy Boy.

Rub for good luck. 

So, by the time the party has cleared out for the night, Bucky is left there. Alone. Dazed and stuffed. He’s still sweating. He’s still trying, in vain, to catch his breath. The only difference from when he had just finished the kegger to now is that now his poor gut is redder and hotter with the outlines of handprints from where his fat has been slapped hard making him jolt and belch, the small fingerprint bruises from where he’s been pinched, shocked into hiccups by the way it aches, and lines from the girls who scratched the surface of his globe-gut with their acrylic fingernails until he moaned and shivered, moving as much as he could underneath the immense, oppressive weight of his own overfull body, trapped in place. A statue for everyone to touch and feel and gape at as they walk past.

How could anyone get that full?

Christ.

At this point, they might as well get a fucking forklift under his ass, lift him and this shitty, almost-broken, college-kid-bought couch, drive him over to the middle of the quad, and set him out there for everyone to admire openly. Bucky loves being a fat-bellied mascot but even if he didn't... he's too drunk and dumb to do anything about it now. He's in too deep. He's swollen himself too big.

[creationcitystreet-em]

Foolish One

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Latina Reader

Summary: You are pining after Eddie as you two get to know each other post high school. AU, could be modern but I don't think I get specific enough for it to matter so it could also be 80s

A/N: This was supposed to be shorter, but really it's just an incredibly self indulgent post high school AU with Eddie. It's not my best work, but I'm going through some stuff in my personal life and it was cathartic writing it out pretending it's about Eddie and not a real person, so that's what I did and I thought sharing it could maybe be fun

Warnings: angst, (mutual?) pining, fluff (if you squint), not a happy ending (I'm sorry, if I have to suffer with my feelings than so do all of you)

Also kinda based on a Taylor Swift Song: Foolish One (TV, From the Vaut)

words:~2200

Masterlist

You knew of Eddie while in high school. How couldn’t you? It was a small town where almost everyone knew each other. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in your class or that you had never spoken a single word to each other, you knew of him because everyone knew of him. Since you didn’t really know him, you never had the highest opinion of him either. All you saw was the trouble making metal head who was terrible at school and sold drugs on the side. Not that you were one to judge, you didn’t know his life and he never seemed to cause anyone else harm. You just knew you never would have clicked and your friend groups never crossed paths anyway. It wasn’t until two years after you graduated high school, attending a college in Indianapolis and working a job on the side to support yourself that you finally officially met Eddie. He had transferred stores from your hometown to the location in Indianapolis. You were an assistant manager at this store and it just so happened to be that Eddie was an assistant manager as well. When you heard the announcement of his transfer, your ears perked up at recognizing the name. 

“I know him,” you had said to your work friend. “We went to high school together.”

“Oh nice, is he good at his job?” your friend asked you. “I’m not sure. I mean he didn’t have what I would call the best work ethic in school so I’m surprised he’s a manager now. It’ll be interesting to see how that goes.” You were less than enthused, hoping your job didn’t get harder because someone on the team was a notorious slacker. 

However, as it turned out, Eddie was an amazing coworker. You worked a lot with him, and got to know him for the first time. He was smart and funny and an overall good person. He was in Indianapolis building a fanbase for his band and also earning more money so he could go to a bigger city and hopefully make it big. The two of you shared a lot of similar interests and cared a lot about the same things. You both had this drive for justice, Eddie was a big attendee of protests in the name of different causes and organizations, and you were planning to become a lawyer one day to work for an organization that would help immigrants in situations where they couldn’t afford one. 

He expressed concern for you when you were overly stressed with school and work and tried his best to help alleviate that stress where he could. You also became friends outside of work as he invited you to a few protests he knew you would feel passionate about, and you had enjoyed some nights out with him and some other managers at your store. And it only took a few months to realize that you had developed feelings for Eddie, but that wasn’t a revelation you were very happy about. 

It just so happened to be that Eddie was already dating someone else, and they seemed very happy together being they had been together for about a year already. She had also gone to your high school but while Eddie was only a year younger than you so you had at least known of him, she was a few years younger and you didn’t even recognize her name. Turns out she was living in Cincinnati attending college to be a teacher, and he tried to spend any free time they had to go visit her. 

It made you sad, but you tried to brush it off quickly, scoffing at the absurdity of you dating Eddie anyway. He was friendly to you because he was friendly to everyone at work. You guys had become friends, but it was clear he loved his girlfriend, and you would never be one to break a couple up. Besides, you were too busy to date anyway. You had tried a few times since starting college and they never lasted that long. 

However, no matter how much you tried, you could not stop the bubbly feelings you got every time the two of you spoke about your shared interests, or when you joked about the mundane parts of your job, or when you felt a sense of calmness, happiness, and acceptance whenever you were around him. And with the way he increasingly spent time with you and seemed to feel so comfortable and happy around you as well, you began to see patterns that maybe indicated he felt the same way for you. Like whenever you caught him staring at you while the two of you worked on paperwork in the office, or when he would blush at a compliment or a daring tease sent his way.

“Oh so you’re like a nerd?” You teased one day at work when he had told you about DnD and all the time he’s spent running campaigns. He gawked at you in fake offense.

“Excuse me? Those are strong words coming from someone who got straight As all through high school.”

“And how do you know that?” you asked, surprised because you assumed he never gave you a second thought in high school.

“Are you kidding? How could I not?” he looked at you like you were the crazy one in this situation and not the other way around.

“What are you talking about? It’s not like I went around bragging about my grades to the whole school.”

“No,” he said with a smirk. “But anyone who paid any attention to you could tell you were smart and cared a lot about school. But it makes sense, you have a lot of dreams you’re working towards. Need to do well in school to achieve those.”

“You paid attention to me?” You asked in a brief moment of curiosity overriding your nerves. Now it seemed to be his turn to get flustered.

“I mean, like I said, it wasn’t hard for most people to notice.” The conversation died down as the two of you went back working, but your mind could not focus on anything but Eddie. You felt stupid for constantly convincing yourself that he might feel the same way you did. You wished you were better at deciphering other people’s feelings and that you had the confidence to confront him about it. Your hopeless romantic feelings were just going to end up hurting you more in the long run and you needed to stop letting yourself dwell on something that would never happen. 

You got better at it by focusing more on school and work than before. That was what you needed to do anyway to accomplish your goals. Silly thoughts of whether a boy liked you or not was just a distraction, especially when that boy was already clearly in love with someone else. You thought you had gotten better at pushing down your feelings for him, but you were proven wrong when it was a little over a year after you had been working together and your work best friend realized what was going on. 

“You like Eddie!” She exclaimed as you tried to shush her down so nobody else heard as you were taking inventory at work.

“Ok, yes I like Eddie, but you gotta keep it down ok? I don’t want anyone else to know about it.” 

“But why?! You two would be perfect together, everyone else should know about it so the two of you can get together! It’s obvious he likes you too!”

“What? Are you crazy? He doesn’t like me, we’re just friends. Besides, he’s been with his girlfriend from back home for over two years now. It’s not going to happen.”

“I heard they aren’t doing well right now,” she said.

“What?” You froze at the news, not having heard that yet. But it wasn’t like he talked about his relationship to you often. Maybe something had happened and you didn’t know about it. “Where did you hear that?”

“Kim said she overheard him talking to Brandon last week about it. They’re both really busy with work and school and his band, they don’t see each other enough anymore. It’s causing problems in their relationship.” You pondered over this information for a bit, not sure how to take it. You hated how it gave you a glimmer of hope, maybe they’ll break up and something could happen between you two. You shook your head at the thought. Eddie was your friend, how could you hope he gets his heart broken by ending his relationship.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m sure they’ll work it out. Besides, I’m too busy to start a relationship either.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” she gave you a knowing look and you sighed as you felt your heart continue to hope for something to possibly work out in your favor. 

Months later, when you were spending time with Eddie, you gave into your curiosity and brought up his relationship. You pretended you didn’t already hear about the problem, and just asked how his girlfriend was doing. He confessed that things were rough as they barely had time to see each other anymore. Seeing him so upset about it broke your heart and made you feel guilty for wanting them to break up. It was obvious that the distance was making it difficult for them. 

You swallowed your feelings and tried to give him some advice. He seemed grateful for that, but it sounded like the two of them were just too busy to make each other a priority anymore, and it also even seemed like they didn’t want to make each other a priority anymore either. It made you wonder if maybe they would be better off just breaking up. Not for you to swoop in and date him, but maybe they both would be happier apart. It sounded to you like they were just together out of familiarity at this point. They had been together for years now, it was hard for them to picture themselves not together so they just ignored how unhappy both of them were. You didn’t tell him these thoughts though, not trusting yourself to be seeing it from an unbiased perspective. And so they stayed together and you stayed pining after a guy you probably would never get to be with.

Sooner than you expected, graduation came around and you were preparing to move to Chicago in pursuit of your law degree. You were excited for this next big step, but also very sad to have only one summer left in Indiana with the friends you had there, especially Eddie. 

Despite your efforts, your feelings for him had only grown more and more over the two years you two worked together. But logic had to win over feelings. How could it even work out for you two even if you did end up together? You weren’t going to stay behind just to stay with Eddie, and you wouldn’t ask Eddie to go with you to Chicago. If by some act of god, the two of you actually got together over the summertime, you would just be split again by years of law school and it would have ruined your friendship for nothing. 

Sometimes you wished you were the type of person to do anything for the chance at love, but you weren’t. You had a plan and dating Eddie didn’t work in that plan, so there was no point in even trying. That’s not how your friend saw it though.

“You’re gonna tell him how you feel right? I mean your chances are running out, you have to at least try!” As much as you wanted to agree with her, you just couldn’t. 

“No, I already made up my mind, I’m not gonna do that.”

“But you two are meant for each other!”

“Maybe,” you sighed in exasperation. “But let’s say you’re right. Let’s say he leaves his girlfriend of 3 years for me. Then what?! I leave for law school at the end of July, we’d be living almost 4 hours away from each other, and we’d be having the same issues that he’s having with her right now.” She gives you a sympathetic look and it’s enough to cause the tears to start forming in your eyes. You let the last bit of romantic hope in your heart out as you continued to explain “I have to hope that what we have is special enough to come back to. Maybe one day it’ll be the right time and place for us. But that’s not right now. So I can’t ruin what we have by telling him how I feel, I just can’t.” 

And with that, it was over. You left for school, kept in touch with your old friends, but distance was hard on any kind of relationship. Of course you couldn’t help but think “what if” with Eddie, but it didn’t matter anymore. The two of you had grown apart and that was that.

[krysmcscience]

MOGUS ART DUMP TIME

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Brown, Red, and Green raised a kid together? Probably, because there's no fuckin' way that kid would end up normal by any stretch of the word, and it would be absolutely hilarious to watch the assured family drama unfold.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if the kid they raised came from an entirely different canon universe altogether? Probably not, but that's what's about to happen in this fukken post, because in an alternate timeline, the kid these three adopted turned out to be Shio. (Yes, that Shio - the one whose canonical appearance typically requires a Body Horror warning. If you want additional context about who tf Shio is, there’s a simple summary of them in this post (some of the deets for other characters is, kinda outdated or wildly inaccurate now, ahaha, C A M), or you can read the WIP for the novel they’re from here. Although, there’s some good or bad news if you take the latter route, depending: Shio doesn’t show up until the end of chapter three, and you already have hella spoilers going in, LOL.)

That being said, get ready for some family photos of our favorite trio of gay space pirates, who have managed to accidentally adopt an impostor baby from a whole other universe, which is a totally normal and average thing to happen to anyone ever, no big deal. Pay no attention to the fact that their brand new impostor baby used to be a literal war criminal, one who attempted to rage-quit life so hard over being dumped that the creation deity of their universe took one long look at them and decided, 'Ya know what would be funny? Resetting this piece of shit back to Babby Status without any memories whatsoever of who they used to be, and then tossing them out into space for a trio of some of the biggest chaosmongers in this other reality’s existence to stumble across and adopt because they think they've just found some weird cute animal, rather than a fully sapient being that is going to molt into what looks like a human baby in a little less than two years. That would be So Fucking Funny and it needs to happen Right Now.'

'Look at how tiny and cute and huggable this lil guy is, surely they will stay this way forever~' Oh, Brown, you poor sweet naive little man. Shio's only three here, they've got plenty of time to grow. >:3c

Plenty of time to grow and decide that they're more of a 'he' than a 'they' this time around, even.

Sweet/sad fact about Brown - he refuses to allow a child of his to go without love and support because of the way he lacked those things growing up (and in general). Hilarious fact about Brown to follow that up with, though - that does not mean he will be responsible and NOT put his all into teaching his child to become a notorious space pirate just like him (with - of course - the Full Backing of Green and Red). So, Shio might not become a war criminal, per se, but, uh. He is Definitely still gonna wind up becoming a criminal. <:]

Yes, Red's shirt says 'Puppy Cannon', and it is indeed a reference to 'Party Cannon', why do you ask? Shio's shirt, meanwhile, says 'Squish Bab', whereas Brown's says 'I woke up like this (48 hours ago)', and Green's gauges have 'BlaXk HUle' on them. (Crinkle assures me it's pronounced the same as 'black hole', and while my brain understands this logically, my eyeballs still have doubts.)

'Well, Shio has gotten bigger and taller than me despite him only being 13, but surely he won't get any bigger than this, right???' Keep dreaming, Brown, this isn't even Shio's final form size.

Has Shio already accompanied his parents on several heists and raids on MIRA property while in some manner of disguise by now? Not according to any of Devon's paperwork. Which Shio helps with on a consistent basis to give his parents some alone time. And who wouldn't trust the beloved Admiral's part-time assistant~? He's such a calm, quiet, and responsible young man~ ;) Pay no mind to the fact that, against Red's wishes and to Green's not-so-secret delight, Shio and Brown have recently and very intentionally caused a full-blown society-wide panic back in Shio's old universe, thanks in part to them learning about his past life and making a series of videos on social media entitled 'Shio Survived So Get Ready For ~Kill All Humanity PART TWO~ LOL'.

In case it's not fully legible, Brown's shirt reads 'I went to another universe and all I stole was my *awesome kid* (and 50 thousand dollars) ... (and a car)'. Meanwhile, Green's 'Slutstomper' gauges are in reference to an absolutely raunchy electropop band from Shio's ex-universe. Red's shirt will be revealed in the next photo, and I can assure you, he does not understand what it means the way Green and Brown do, and it was all Green's idea because he just has, you know. So much class.

'I can't believe my son can lift and carry all three of his parents like it's nothing now. I'm so mad, yet I couldn't be prouder.' People who knew Shio before they got reset tried to warn you that they were an Absolute Unit, Brown, but you didn't listen. This is what happens when you don't listen. 23 years later, you wind up with an adoptive son who can easily pick up not just you, but both of your boyfriends along with you.

Has Shio gone back for another visit to their old universe with Brown by now to fake going on a Kill All Humans crusade for the sake of causing more mass panic? ...Maybe. Did they trick Devon into letting them borrow one of his ships for this endeavor? ...Possibly. Did Red end up so furious that he made both of them do three months of community service to make up for it afterward, and banned them from letting Green go along to help them properly socialize? Well, yes - absolutely yes, in fact - but to be fair, they both knew Green would have spent most of his time there being a slutty menace and flirting with everyone, anyway, and neither of them wanted to have to deal with that. They were already being punished as it was (by having to help a bunch of needy people with a smile), so, no need to make it worse for themselves.

Brown's 'Stabby Babby' shirt definitely features an angry baby holding a knife on it, but Shio's arms are in the way because he's Just That Massive. Also, I apologize for Green and Brown (but mostly myself) for allowing that Pupknot shirt to exist on poor innocent Red. In Shio's defense, he has crafted a very solid mental block around what the joke is and thus Also does not understand what it means. And in my own defense, after coming up with two other puppyfied metal band names, how could I resist the horrible joke that would come out of doing the same to Slipknot? (Okay, that's less of a defense and more of an outright admission of guilt.) As for Green's decals and patches, if anyone wants to see the full-size versions of them for whatever reason, let me know, because I put an absurd amount of work into them, and I want a reason beyond my own fragile artist ego to compile them all into a single cohesive image. Also, in regards to the 'VB' on Green's gauges and one of his patches, it stands for 'Video Bois', which is sort of an AU-canon term for their polycule (video cables = RGB = Red, Green, Brown).

Oh, wait, what's that eldritch creature way off in the background, you ask?

...

Don't worry about it. :)

[alargehunkofdebris]

S3 Won't Be Like S2, and That's Not a Bad Thing

So after the absolute cheese and crackers of this second season (plus that whollup of angst at the end) many Good Omens fans will be waiting for that next level of fluff and angst come S3. Don’t blame you at all.

However.

I think, should we be fortunate and get a new season at all, we must all be prepared for the reality that S3 is not going to be like S2, and remember too that this is not a bad thing.

Middle seasons/movies/books are notoriously tough to get right. Though they function as their own story, they’re also the middle part of an overarching plot. They are, in the plotting world (if you use Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat plotting structure terminology) the “fun and games” part of the plot. You get neither the interesting introduction of all character/plot/main conflicts, nor the highest stakes/climax/resolution of the end. So it’s really hard to keep that level of interest in a season that has no solid beginning or solid end of the main plot.

However, in this particular instance, Neil Gaiman and Co. have the absolutely wonderful benefit of having two main characters that most fans are content to watch paint dry with. The characters and their dynamics are the jewels of this story. So, this second season had another function. It was a “treat” season, in a way, because it slowed everything down and really let us indulge in the little, joyful things – aka, the developing relationship of Crowley and Aziraphale. Season One gave us a lot of that, too – but a great deal of that development was added for the show. With just the book as reference, it was a very plottish story. That’s why it required a season to pull off and not just a movie. On the other hand, if you took the events of S2 and converted it to a book of the same style (aka, focused mostly on the plot and the overall cast of characters, not as much on the main two) it would be significantly shorter.

Now, back to the subject of S3. This future season will be going back to the roots of Good Omens, because a big chunk of that plotting was done back when the original book was created. The major beats have been in place since 1990. So, it would probably be a fair bet to say that there will be a lot more plot-heavy beats, with less laser-focus on the relationship. Where S1 had several plots with one major one involving Adam as the antichrist, S2 was literally a romance story with a mystery element. S3, on the other hand, will likely be a return to form, and this isn’t a bad thing whatsoever. Many will be happy about this, because while it would be lovely to have an infinite amount of time just seeing the domestic side of an angel/demon relationship, we absolutely need some gritty, high-stakes plot points to round off this massively ambitious story.

It doesn’t mean we won’t get a lot of relationship things. We need it too, considering the build up we got S2. It is the heart of the whole story. I just think that S3 will be a perfect balance of what we liked of both S1 and S2. Where some would find S2 a little lacking in speed and stakes, S3 will be faster paced with bigger conflict. Where some find S1 to spend too much time away from the main relationship, S3 will absolutely focus on this as one of the two major plots of the story (S1/the book, on the other hand, had at least 4 plotlines that we switched between somewhat equally.)  

So, when we think of S3 and theorize on its plot, we must think of it more in the context of S1/book rather than S2. We have to imagine that the major beats were figured out in the 90s, and focus on those unresolved setups we got in S2. So, we have the Book of Life, the Memory Wiping, and the Second Coming. I may also suggest the 25 Lazareth Miracle Concept, though I’d probably guess that it’s a modern Gaiman addition/enhancement with its focus on Crowley and Aziraphale’s “stronger together” theme (this theme enhancement was mostly a Gaiman addition in S1, remember, with the Ep 3 cold open and The Switch at the end). I’m still not positive whether this is going to end up being that an angel and demon working together makes the most powerful miracle (which would probably be more in-line with the original 90s plot) or if it’s specifically Crowley and Aziraphale; there would be very different plot possibilities with either. With the first, we could potentially have a return of Beelzebub and Gabrial as an Act 3 saving grace, and with the second they could literally have a “true loves kiss that saves the world” kind of thing, which I don’t think will happen (but Lord, can you imagine?)

All I know is that when a large chunk of S3’s original plot was conceived, the authors had no idea just how popular the angel and demon duo would be. It was written without that influence in mind. And I think this is a Good Thing. Because as much as we all want infinite content of Crowley and Aziraphale, there is always that danger of “too much of a good thing.” In getting only what we want, we would lose all those other parts that makes this story beloved.

Neil Gaiman said it himself, so many times. S2 is the “gentle and romantic” season. It is, in other words, the one that focussed on Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. He said also that he can’t guarantee the fans will even like season 3, and I don’t think that is because he’s going to do anything awful to our beloved characters. I think he’s simply being wary of fans who might take for granted that S3 will have that same level of fluff (affectionate) as S2, and this just won’t be the case. And I very much guarantee that even if we have a perfect level of relationship focus in S3, the sheer glut of it in S2 will create some disappointment and bitterness indeed.  

In short: we are absolutely, without a doubt, NOT going to get that same level of sweet, domestic relationship stuff in Season 3 as we did in S2, and we all should try to avoid throwing undue expectation (and potential bitterness) at Neil Gaiman if there’s that distinct change of pace/tone. Because it doesn’t mean we won’t get a huge amount of relationship stuff in general (we could even get more); it just means it won’t be the sole focus, and it won’t be “gentle and romantic.” There won’t be plots about trying to put on a Jane Austin ball, or trying to play matchmaker for a local couple. There are going to be much higher stakes, with a lot more stuff happening. And this isn’t a bad thing. It’s what’s needed to make a well-rounded trifecta of seasons. So be prepared, set expectations, gird your loins, have a ton of fun in the meantime, and—most importantly—pray that S3 will be renewed at all.