#gordy sees something

[technicallywrite]

Cosmosgate update 11 — Wake up and smell the accelerant

I'm doing the reasonable thing this week! No, not focusing on my day job, that would be silly. I mean, splitting a monster chapter into two well-balanced* parts.

So here is Chapter 11 of *that Cosmosgate fic*, aka part 1 of my spin on the Big Finish audio story UNIT: Assembled: Call to Arms (which you hopefully don't need to have listened to for this to make sense, but if you have/do it may enhance your experience). I originally planned to do the whole thing as a single chapter but my narrative ambition is once again proving too much, because I had to go shove some ship progression in there.

On the menu: a staff briefing, coffee with Gordy, revelations (because I can't effing help myself apparently), the beginnings of some actual action, and a rough helicopter ride for our favorite flight-averse scientist.

(* I don't know about well-balanced, since I've only written part 1 and I have a rough estimate for part 2, and historically that has meant very little -- anyway the point is this is mainly aspirational)

[saintaviator]

hey… oh my god… im in love with the way you draw gordon and barney your art made my day it’s so colorful and lively so cool!!!!

waauuuaauauau thank you …… sniffles….

tiny Barney 4 u anon. 🫶

[wildflowercryptid]

i'm sorry, but klara/gordie is so fucking funny. i just know they'd bring out the worst in each other and be so annoying, i love it more than anything.

[millenianthemums]

i was thinking about how a lot of horror stories set in one location get the “why don’t they just leave” criticism, but in real life it isn’t usually that simple. even really mild reasons characters might have for not leaving or for going back to the scary place can make total sense sometimes. and i thought about OJ’s “i got mouths to feed” thing, about taking care of the horses.

but then i was like “well OJ didn’t JUST care about the horses, it was also about not wanting Jean Jacket to win. but yeah he cares a lot about the horses, it makes sense. and he’s not the type to make big heroic speeches anyway, he’s not showy like that.”

and then i realized something cool about OJ as a character. OJ not being showy, not caring about spectacle, is what sets him apart from everybody else in the movie. others see the spectacle, he sees the people and animals caught up in it. in his first scene the others want to hurry and film, but he sees the horse is stressed; if they’d listened to him and backed off, it wouldn’t have kicked. he tried to save the motorcyclist who was just yelling at him to get the camera before being eaten. he’s the kind of person who wasn’t around on the Gordy set, who knew when to stop pushing and listen before something bad happened.

He was the only one who realized not to look in Jean Jacket’s eye. He didn’t give in and look up at the spectacle in the sky. He kept his eyes low, and because of that he saw the ones on the ground who were suffering and wanted to help. He SAW the horses, he cared for them and he risked his life to save Lucky. He SAW his sister when their dad broke a promise to her for fame and money.

Emerald was the one who got the “money shot” of Jean Jacket and defeated it. i think that was important and good for her to do. Defeating this thing that had caused her so much pain, that had killed her father, her friends and maybe her brother. And in doing so she captured proof of what she and her friends went through, made sure that suffering wasn’t all for nothing. OJ helped it happen, he was behind the scenes staring down Jean Jacket while she escaped. But Emerald was in the spotlight at the end. She won.

But with all this in mind, I think it’s really beautiful that the final shot of the movie, the REAL money shot, wasn’t Jean Jacket. It wasn’t anything all that weird or spectacular. On the contrary, it was deeply familiar.

It was OJ, on a horse.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || william killick x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || your husband sometimes gets carried away with his devotion to you...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || noncon/heavy dubcon smut (18+ only!!! rough sex, breeding kink, marking kink, hair pulling, praise and degradation, dark but the reader is lowkey into it lmaooo), jealousy and possessiveness, yandere vibes?, gaslighting/manipulation, established relationship, alcohol consumption

"Heavens, you look stunning!" Gordon announced when he saw you, opening his arms wide as an invitation for an embrace.  You only went in for a quick hug, but he grabbed you tight and kissed the top of your head as you laughed delightfully.  "Doesn't she look ravishing?  Don't I have excellent taste?"

The other ladies nearby nodded in agreement, hanging off of him like they tended to.  That was the way Gordon was: magnetic, for his personality just as much as his looks.  Blonde curls with light brown eyes and that megawatt smile… as long as you'd known him, he'd never had trouble with ladies— he just made trouble for them.

"Aren't I the greatest literary agent you ever had?" he asked you, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're the only I've ever had," you reminded him.  "You represented me when I was a teenage girl trying to sell my assignments from secondary school!"

"Yes, so I win by default," he decided with a big kiss to your cheek that made you scrunch up your nose.

"But that makes you the worst I ever had, too, doesn't it?" you noticed as Gordon relaxed his embrace to just an arm around your waist.

"See?" he prompted the nearby women, "Didn't I tell you?  Can't get anything past this one— sharp as a whip, she is—"

As you shrugged in dismissal of the praise, you looked around the room in awe of all Gordon had done for you now.  He had a taste for the extravagant, clearly; truth be told, it was nothing like you'd pictured it, and nothing like what you'd asked him for when he insisted on throwing a party.

"So, please, drink up, be merry, all of that," Gordon instructed his ladies, motioning out towards the crowded room, "get properly sloppy if you must— all in honour of this lovely woman right here… a genius of writing, and one of my longest and dearest friends."

As they departed in search of free drinks, you turned to Gordon with a nervous frown.  "I'm not sure this is really all for me, Gordy," you sighed.

"Of course it is," he chuckled heartily, "I told you I'd throw something to celebrate another year of us working together— I wanted to have a gala for your novel's first publishing, but you were too busy on the honeymoon then—"

You smiled just at the mention of your honeymoon.

"All these people, doll, they're here for you," Gordon assured.

"The people, maybe; but the evening wear, the drinks, the music, the glamour?  That's for you, isn't it?" you smirked.

But before he could respond to the accusation, his eyes fell somewhere at the other end of the room, and he turned you to look the same way.  "Speaking of people here for you…" he trailed off.

You perked up when you saw William, slipping through the crowds of people, already approaching you with his hat tucked under his arm.

"You came!" you squealed with excitement as you jumped towards your husband, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.  "Oh, dear," you sighed when you saw that you'd printed berry-red lipstick on his cheek, starting to wipe it off with your fingers.

"I couldn't miss it, of course," he smiled at you, his voice so soft you barely heard it over the hustle and bustle of the party.

"They shouldn't have let you in," Gordon said, making you both look back at him.  "It's black tie only, you know."

William smiled slightly with his lips pressed together.  "He's only joking," you realised with an awkward mumble.

"The uniform seemed to go over alright," William replied, sticking his hand out towards Gordon for a shake.

"Oh, don't be so formal," Gordon laughed as he yanked William into rough side-hug.  "We know each other, don't we?"

"Sort of," William answered under his breath as Gordon put a heavy hand— adorned with golden decorative rings— on his shoulder.  

"Though I've half a mind to rough you up for convincing my star author to publish her next book under her married name," Gordon continued with a haughty laugh.  "She's already so established with the maiden name!"

"I didn't convince her of anything, I only married her," William defended.  

"Never thought you'd manage to tie this one down," Gordon smirked, "independent as she is."

"She didn't put up too much of a fight," William winked at you, and you felt a little flushed as you blinked quickly.

Apparently tired with that line of conversation, Gordon stood beside you and flipped it back to the real topic of the evening: your writing.

“She’s quite a prodigy!” Gordon exclaimed with a wide grin, wrapping an arm around you, then.  “You’ve read what she writes, haven't you?”

“Some of it,” William admitted with a nervous laugh, looking down for a moment.  “The rest is too sad for me, I’m afraid.”

“Her latest is a masterpiece,” Gordon assured.  “Forbidden love, secrets, affairs—”

“Sordid stuff,” William frowned, shaking his head.

“Sells, though,” Gordon winked.  “Men and women— we’re even selling copies in America!”

William only nodded, not seeming too convinced, and you deflated slightly as you reached out for your husband’s hand.  “Aren’t you proud of me?” you asked, sounding much more pathetic than you meant to.

“Of course, darling,” he smiled at you, “always.”

“You don’t mind if I borrow your lovely wife again, do you?” Gordon beamed.  “There’s some people over there she should meet— they might just sponsor the tour for her next novel.”

“All these book tours, I feel as if she’s hardly ever home,” William sighed.

“Well, we’ve got to keep her on the tours,” Gordon chuckled, “or that pretty face will go to waste!”

William’s jaw tightened as he nodded curtly in agreement, and you felt nervousness turning in your stomach.

“You should have a drink, soldier,” Gordon offered to lighten the obvious tension, handing William a wide glass of champagne.

He patted your husband a little too roughly on the back as he drank, before dragging you off to talk to some publishers or whatever— you glanced over to try to see your husband at the bar, hoping to catch him smiling at you, but you only caught his icy stare over the edge of his glass.

~

Enough liquor loosened you both up, and you managed to enjoy the party well into the hours of the night— it was almost one in the morning when you got home, yet you had a shocking amount of energy still coursing through you as you started to undress at the vanity.  It must’ve been all the people there, and knowing they were all celebrating you; it was electrifying, even as someone who preferred to be cooped up alone with her typewriter.

William leaned against the bedroom doorway as you shed your heels and stockings, then unpinned your hair.  When you saw him skulking on the reflection, you smirked to yourself, taking out one of your earrings.

“What’s the matter, love?” you asked sweetly, but he said nothing.  “Love?”

“I guess I’m not much of a partier,” he explained flatly.

You smiled a little, taking out your other earring and then reaching behind your neck to unclasp your necklace.  You didn’t even really notice the silence before it was broken.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” William said suddenly, and you scoffed— once you realised what he was talking about.

“He’s just that way,” you assured, “I don’t take it personally.”

“And all the talk of your genius, of your prodigious writing— that’s not personal?”

You shrugged slightly as you turned slightly and looked at him over your shoulder, smiling but knitting your brows together in confusion.  “Isn’t that why you married me?  I thought you liked the way people fawn over me.”

“But you know him,” William insisted again.  “You knew him before you even met me, you work with him— you spend long hours with him, when I’m gone—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you laughed, standing up, but he only glared at you.  You tilted your head as you approached him.  “William, you couldn’t really think—”

“Don’t patronise me,” he sneered, and when you reached out to touch his face, he snatched you by the wrist and yanked you closer.

“William!” you scolded, whimpering as he moved his face close to yours, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily through them.  “William, please—”

“Look at me,” he demanded, grabbing your face with his other hand.  “Look at your husband, darling.”

You bit your lip to suppress its shaking, meeting his fiery— yet cold— stare.  “You’re hurting me,” you whispered, tightening your hand into a weak fist as he held it painfully tight.

“I can see, you know,” he told you sharply and quietly through his teeth.  “I can see the way you laugh at his jokes, and let him pull you closer.  His hand on your hip—”

“It’s nothing, William,” you breathed, and his hand moved down from your face to your neck, then your chest, where he brushed his fingers over the neckline of your dress.

“Wearing the dresses he buys for you,” he noticed with a sneer.  “God, he’s got you looking like his fucking whore.”

He shoved you back and you tripped to land on the bed, hiding your face in fear and shame as he stalked towards you.

“Now you want to play innocent?” William spat as he towered over you.  “I told you to fucking look at me!”

“I can’t!” you sobbed, fighting when he grabbed your arms and tried to pry them apart, attempting to force you to turn onto your back.  “I can’t, William, not when you’re like this!”

“You made me like this!” he accused, eventually getting you to turn over so he could pin down your wrists on either side of your head.  “You made me like this,” he said again, voice lowered from shouting to a soft growl.  “You let him put his filthy fucking hands all over you, didn’t you?”

“No, William,” you denied, crying weakly as you shook your head.  “Never.  I love you— I love you more than anything.”

“But you won’t tell me the truth,” he snarled.  “The truth, darling, not another story— not another one of your goddamn stories!”

“He kissed me!” you admitted suddenly, and before you could explain, William roughly slammed his lips onto yours.  You whimpered into it, struggling against his tightening grip, and he pressed you down into the bed with the weight of his body.

“Tell me how it happened,” he demanded, lips still brushing against yours as he spoke, eyes still piercing through you.

“I swear, Will, I told him to stop,” you breathed, “I pushed him away.  I told him I love you, William— and I do, don’t you know how much I do?”

“He kissed you,” William repeated, rage tinting his voice.

“That’s all, I swear,” you promised.

“And you didn’t tell me—”

“I thought you’d get angry,” you defended weakly.

“You didn't tell your poor, doting husband,” he groaned, “your heartbroken husband—”

“I’m so sorry, William,” you whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me, hm?  Because you love him?”

“No!  Fuck, no,” you cried.

“Because you considered it— because you thought about letting him make love to you?”

“No!” you shouted, but he suddenly put a hand over your mouth to muffle it.  When you stopped, stilling briefly as he looked down at you, he took his hand away and stroked your cheek with it.

“He must have forgotten,” William whispered under his breath, petting your face and acting oddly sweet.  “He must have forgotten that you… belong to me.”

You blinked quickly, shivering as he pressed a slow, short kiss to your lips.

“That these lips belong to me,” he continued with a sigh, “that this neck belongs to me—”

He kissed it, but brushed his teeth teasingly over your pulse.

“That every single, beautiful, perfect part of you,” he went on, hands running down over your chest and settling on your waist tightly, “belongs to me.”

He bit down harder on your neck and you whined.

“Did you forget too, darling?”

“William, you’ll leave marks,” you whimpered, “you’ll bruise me—”

“Good,” he purred, “then you can’t just take your ring off and act single, can you?”

“I never take off your ring, William,” you swore, “not even to bathe…”

“I still want my marks all over you,” he explained darkly, “I still want you bruised tomorrow.  I don’t just want them to know you’re married, darling— I want them to know how good I fuck you.  I want them to know that your husband fucks you.”

Suddenly his hands were at your dress, tearing it to shreds right down the front.

“And I want them to know,” he continued with a groan, “how much you love it.”

He flipped you over roughly, yanking you up by your hair until you were forced to scramble onto your hands and knees.  Your head dropped defeatedly when he let go of your hair, and he held your hips tightly with one hand as he opened his trousers with the other.

“W-wait,” you stammered, but he ignored you, reaching up under the tatters of your dress to yank your girdle and panties down.  Before you could beg for some mercy again he slammed into you, making you choke out a wavering cry; instantly he was fucking you hard and fast, making you shake all over and try to reach back to grab his hips so he might slow down.  “W-Will, love, please—” you whimpered helplessly.

“Fuck, if that son of a bitch could see you like this,” William sneered.  “If he could see you now— he’d know who you belong to, wouldn’t he?  If he could see you on your hands and knees, begging for me…”

He fucked you even harder— his hand reached up to hold onto your shoulder so you wouldn’t fall forward from the force of it.

“If he could see what a dirty little wife you are,” he groaned, digging his fingers into your skin— more marks, you were sure.  “Fuck, you’re soaking me already, darling.”

A whimper slipped from your mouth as he leaned down, holding you tightly and speaking right by your ear.

“You like it, don’t you?  Playing with me,” he hissed.  “You like driving your poor husband crazy, thinking you might be stepping out on him?”

You shook your head, choking on a moan as he slowed his movements to make sure every thrust reached as deep into you as possible.  “N-no, love, no—”

“You like how I fuck you when I’m angry, don’t you?” he went on anyways, biting the shell of your ear until your channel clenched around him.  “Is that what got you so wet, darling?”

Biting your lip to hide your moans, you held tighter onto the sheets beneath you, and one of his hands came down to wrap around yours.

“So sweet,” he cooed, “such a sweet little wife.  You look so innocent, darling, they have no idea what a slut you are— none of them do, but fuck… they will.”

He sped up again and you whined loudly; the pain and the pleasure together made your legs shake, hardly able to hold you up on the bed.  He snatched one of the nearby pillows and shoved it under your hips— it kept them up when he began to fuck you so hard that you fell forward, and the angle hit just right inside you as a desperate scream was muffled by your face falling into the sheets.

"Yes, there she is," he praised, "my whore wife— how she loves to be fucked, reminded of her place.  This is your place, isn't it?  In my bed, sweet cunt taking my cock?  Not out with that awful man— not on those godforsaken book tours—"

When you tried to reach back to keep him from going too deep again, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them back beside your face as he kept thrusting even faster, making the whole bed bounce and shake.

"You can take it all, darling," he promised with a groan, "you can fit your husband inside, all the way— fuck, you're so beautiful like this.  You're so perfect, my angel…"

He buried his face in your neck as he thrusted into you, his own moans rivalling yours while he kissed your neck and ear and shoulder.  

No one could accuse your husband of lacking passion, even if they didn’t see him like this— which you really hoped they didn’t.  From the very beginning, he’d pursued you fervently: he read one of your short stories, and wrote rather effusive fan mail to the magazine in which it was published.  And then when he came to your publisher’s office hoping to meet you, he took one look at you and became properly obsessed.  He insisted you were the love of his life… and before you’d even really gotten to know him!  You were nearly offended at first; but the longer his seduction went on, the more you couldn’t help but fall for him.  Strong yet tender, kind yet stern, intelligent yet sensitive… and creative, much more than you expected.  He had quite an imagination.

Unfortunately, that imagination had a dark side, especially with his tendency to be quite jealous.  It had never gone this far before, though.

He pulled out of you, only a moment of relief and disappointment, before turning you onto your back and hovering over you.  “Look at me,” he demanded again, though his voice was low and gentle now, “look up at me, beautiful.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, admiring the tears in your eyes with a tender sort of expression.

“Oh, my darling,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck as he slowly pushed back inside you.  Your back arched and he slipped one arm under it to hold you tightly as he set a more careful pace than before— though still not all that slow.  "My beautiful girl— you can't help it, can you?  The way men feel about you."

A slightly deeper thrust made you gasp and reach up to hold his shoulders, blinking through the watering in your eyes.

"Of course he kissed you," he breathed, "if you were another man's wife, I'd kiss you too.  I'll always have to have you, darling, nothing could stop me."

"I pushed him away, love," you swore again.

"I know, I know," he cooed.  "But I still can't stand to think of it… of my darling wife being kissed by someone else.  He would've only done that if he thought you'd kiss him back, you know— he thought you would let him fuck you."

He picked up his pace, staring deep into your eyes and gripping you tightly.

“When you’re pregnant, then he’ll know,” William announced proudly as he held your hips.  “Then everyone who sees you will know: you fucking belong to me.”

Overwhelmed by it, you felt yourself get even hotter and slicker between the legs at the idea of that.  He was wrong about you wanting to make him jealous, but neither of you could deny now that you got some gratification out of it.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I belong to you,” you promised, “I’m yours— you know I’m yours, love, always—”

He hummed in agreement, pumping deeper and faster into you as your head spun.  “You’ll be the most beautiful expectant wife there ever was,” he purred, a rough hand tugging your bra out of the way and groping your breasts.  “These nice and full— all of you swollen and soft—”

“W-William,” you stammered, hardly able to breathe with his weight on you and the way he filled you.

“Big belly,” he cooed, “and my baby inside— our baby.  Fuck, how can I wait to see you like that?”

“F-fuck,” you choked out, “don’t stop, please… please, my love—”

“I’ll fill you, darling,” he promised lowly, baring his teeth as you started to fall into it— your head tilting back into the mattress, pleasure overtaking you, your fingers digging into his shoulders.  “I’ll give you everything I have, every night, until it takes—”

“Please,” you begged, holding him tighter and lifting your face up with what little energy you had to bury it in his shoulder.  You cried from the intensity of it all— from everything— as shudders wracked your body.  He groaned as he felt you pulsing around him, kissing your face and groaning beside your ear.

“What a good little wife,” he praised as you came, “what a perfect little wife— you want it, don’t you?  To be pregnant, have my child?”

You barely managed to nod, you were so overcome by every sensation running through you.  But you did, and he growled proudly.

“You will, my angel,” he promised, “I’ll make sure of it.  Just say one more time that you love me, darling— that you’ll always be mine—”

“I-I love you so much, William,” you swore, muffled in the jacket that you clutched needily.  “I’m yours— I’m always yours— oh!”

You lost track of your words, but it didn’t matter then because you were drowned out by his gasps: heavy, low breaths as he pressed into you one last time and filled you completely.

Instantly, you were flooded with even more emotions: shame, ecstasy, confusion, hurt, love.  It was too much to take even if you weren’t still slightly tipsy and entirely sleep-deprived, but altogether it just turned you into a mess.

After coming down from his high— though he was still catching his breath— William seemed to sober up in a second as you cried harder.  Cooing gently at you, he wrapped his arms tighter around you and hugged you close.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he breathed as he held you tightly, “I’m so sorry.  You know it’s just my love that makes me this way— I just can’t stand to see another man lay his hand on you… I just can’t imagine you with anyone else, it breaks my heart, darling.”

“You break my heart, William,” you whispered back, still hiding in his shoulder, “when you think I could ever hurt you like that.  When you accuse me of something like that—”

“I just get scared, darling,” he sighed, petting your back slowly as he rocked you in his arms.  “I just get scared that you’re too good to be true.  That this beautiful creature can’t be all mine.”

You smiled against his skin, holding onto him tighter.  “I love you so much, William… I’d never— you have to believe me, I’d never—”

“Shh,” he soothed softly, as he held your head and kissed the top of it.  “I know, darling, I know.  Because you belong to me.”

[unacknowledgeable]

For the SK reader series, will the reader get a love interest?? Because there's something so dark yet hypnotic when u find someone who doesn't want you to change, they accept you as you are, worms and all. Something akin to Hannibal and Will Graham if you get me.

Anyways, just wanted to say your series is so addictive and I can't wait to read more!

Y’know, I've thought about love interests so much this week, because ppl seem very interested in me introducing one and I genuinely can't decide which one I like the most, because I find them all utterly hilarious. 

For the “so what are we” Gothamite, think Mikasa from DeathNote lol. Those are the major vibes I'm getting from them, and I just jotted down some conversations I imagined. I'll just call them the ‘Near Victim Interest’ lol. 

SK!Reader: “I will rip your intestines out through your mouth and dance the night away with them lining my neck”

NV!Interest: “Oh dear god…Baby you promise?”

SK!Reader: “...What?” NV!Interest: “What?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: “That is the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

SK!Reader: “I literally said I was going to split your head in half starting at the throat.”

NV!Interest: “Yeah, exactly.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: “Haha, sweetie is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see- oh i've been impaled.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: (Laid out on the embalming table, having gotten into readers work place) “paint me like one of your crime scenes”

SK!Reader: “How… did you get in here?”

NV!Interest: “Oh the commissioner let me in once I told him we’re dating! Gordy’s so nice, right?”

SK!Reader: “Wha- Gordy?? Wait- we’re NOT dating! I don't even know you!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, one of the other “love interests” I've thought about was someone within the same Elite circles as SK!Readers “Mini-Brucie” persona. 

They’ll probably end up looking at this ditzy, airheaded, charismatic moron and, for just a second, catches a glimpse of how truly calculated the twitch of your lips are, how your eyes flash in cold fury at the touch of hands dragging you around the room, how the precise snap of your words works the room in your favor, intricately crafting every conversion you’ve been dragged into under your control, but never to the center stage.  In the blink of an eye, it’s all gone and they’re left thinking, ‘oh I could make you so much worse.’

 This person basically wants to groom the reader into the next “big bad” of Gotham, or maybe into joining The Court, without realizing just how far off the deep end SK!Reader already is. It’s like trying to teach someone the alphabet, while not knowing they can already read at a college level. 

They want to mold you into the perfect mastermind, able to rival the likes of Batman on wits alone, and wish to chisel at your marbled potential so that they may unleash their magnum opus upon the unwitting populace of Gotham. 

But… you just aren't interested in using your intellect for more than what you are now. You're quite content with operating as you have been, thank you very much. You have no intention of disrupting your meticulously maintained status quo. So, it's safe to say that this is getting proceedingly more frustrating on both sides. This person thinks you're putting all your potential to waste, unaware just how capable you really are, meanwhile you're trying to get this pompous asshole off your back so you can continue business as usual.

And my last love interest idea was diving more into the Jinx aspects of SK!Reader and going full TimeBomb lmaooo 

~Masterlist~

[wilwheaton]

I hadn't seen that Lego image before. The "crying Wesley" annoys me. Big, goofy, Boimler-esque grinning Wesley would have been great, as I always remembered the character being excited and enthusiastic.

I was of the age that Wesley was my audience identification character. I preferred when he was more complex and interestingly flawed in later seasons, but I always wanted to be more like him.

I'm sorry that you endured all of that crap over the years. It's REALLY not fair to you, and I can imagine how tedious it must be. But I'm glad that you were part of TNG, I was always thrilled when you made guest appearances after leaving as a regular, and I love much of your work after your work in later years (Chaos 4EVER!).

So yes, there are many of us that loved Wesley. Especially us fellow Gordies. Thanks for doing what you do and have done, even (and especially) when it's been really hard.

You are so right! Thank you. I would love to see him with that level of enthusiasm.

I have this fan fiction idea where Wesley goes to the Cerritos, and all he wants is for Mariner to think he's cool, because they went to academy together.

Meanwhile, Boimler is just BESIDE himself that Wesley, who knows and works with a lot of Boimler's heroes, is on the ship. So he keeps interrupting Wesley, and somehow Wesley really steps in it.

Boimler feels badly about it, so he just nerds out REAL HARD at Wesley about something, and it speaks so loudly to Wesley's inner nerd, they end up on a major science project together that OF COURSE saves the Cerritos.

And at the end of it, when Wesley is about to leave, and he thinks he's impressed Mariner, she just ROASTS him in the most hilarious way possible. I haven't figured out what it is, yet.

ROLL CREDITS.

[reveluving]

it bleeds for you ; oj haywood x reader

summary: no extraterrestrial creature is getting in OJ’s way, not especially with you.

warnings: s~mut obv (minors DNI!), jean jacket & a bloodbath scene + major character death but y'all safe tho, very brief mention of s-cide, a hint of angst but mostly a heart-stopping sexc time & some fluff, reader is jupe's shyer sister (blood or not is up to you!)

a/n: had this idea for SO LONG, but just never found a justification to post it because it was one of my 'bolder' works at the time of making it jkdakdhs BUT NO MORE! don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out this year's 'reve's quirky reverie' m.list! 🕷️'!

» smut includes: possessively soft & sweet oj your protective beloved, unprotected s~ex (p in v), edging, 'good girl's, guided cow~girl position, coping with grief but not really (you'll see :>)

'And with how much OJ had given and given and given, putting himself aside, for once, he wanted to change that. That even in a horrible situation, he found you.' ;

You didn’t think there would ever be a time when OJ would comfort you from the presence of Jean Jacket looming over Haywood’s residence naked.

You had just lost your only family, albeit, an estranged one since he became addicted to the limelight. He treated you well, but you wished he had given up his need to be a star since the cancellation of Gordy’s Home. You’d come around to see his kids, and he’d occasionally hang out with you when he wasn’t busy thinking about fame, but for the most part, you and Jupe had nothing more than the ‘siblings’ title. 

Even more so when you met the Haywoods and the existence of Jean Jacket, and when you confronted your brother, to put a stop to his suicidal attempts for public attention, that what had happened between him and Gordy before the animal got shot was ‘pure luck’, he didn’t listen to you. 

To choose to revive one’s dead fame over their own family was your final straw, and your last words to Jupe were ‘good luck’ and to be careful before Em whisked you away as you teared up, offering you a spot at their house to help them solve the uncertainties with the aerial being.

You didn’t think OJ would come back with bad news days after, that Jean Jacket had sucked up everyone in the event, including Jupe, his wife and kids. He immediately held you tight when you finally broke down, because, at the end of the day, they were still your family. Your only family, now nothing more than victims of an extraterrestrial monster.

It shouldn’t been inappropriate to be making out and removing each other’s clothes upstairs when you were supposed to be grieving but there was something about OJ that you couldn’t resist. 

The same way he felt about you.

You understood each other, in a way, having siblings of polar opposites, though he always pitied the relationship you had with your late brother. Em, despite her behaviour at times and her occasional jokes about putting Jean Jacket out to the world, OJ knew that like him, she would put family first. Plus, even with your shyness, you and Em got along very well, with the two of you respecting each other’s personalities.

You also took good consideration of animals’ behaviours, including his horses, and when he explained Jean Jacket’s tendencies to hunt the curious, you listened, just like he did when you poured out your feelings about the situation with Jupe. And with how much OJ had given and given and given, putting himself aside, for once, he wanted to change that. That even in a horrible situation, he found you. 

So when you and OJ stayed home, touching and appreciating each other’s bodies as it rained away, the last thing any of you expected was Jean Jacket to return, hovering over the Haywood’s house. 

Even as you mewled both out of fear and from the way OJ stilled his cock in you, you knew not to turn your head at the window, the gap of the curtain just enough to get a glimpse of the mysterious cloud. But you didn’t, and OJ, despite his own rapidly beating heart, comforted you. His arms remained around you, keeping you snug on top of him as he whispered in your ear.

“Good girl. Good girl.”

He held the back of your head to his chest, drifting your focus from the evil above to the pleasure he was bringing you, even as the behemoth dribbled blood from its victims from the fair down the farmhouse. He couldn’t risk you screaming over your late brother’s blood painting the walls outside, and if he was being honest, he was a little too far gone in the sensation, and you couldn’t find it in you to say you weren’t feeling the same way.

For once, you wanted what you wanted, to be loved and appreciated unconditionally, and it felt amazing to be with him. To feel the tears of pleasure brimming in your eyes as he worshipped you the way he saw you, as morbid as it was to feel as such at that moment. To be reassured that he had you, that he would take the reins for you, so long that you would have him.

He moved slowly, to hear the wet slaps of your hips and your little moans directly in his ears and in return, to let you know of his desires growing for you, too, all while trying your best to ignore the groans above.

He had promised to keep you safe, to treat you the way you deserved, and as horrible as he was to say it, Jean Jacket, out of everything it had done, it did everyone a favour by devouring Jupe, including starting a new life for you, and it would only further cement your beginnings with the Haywoods, with OJ, once Jean Jacket would finally be dealt with.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: I don't care how short it is, I'm just so happy I finally got to share this 'crazier' idea with y'all! another form of appreciation for another underrated character!! ;; gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[auroravictorium]

unraveling (k.b.)

"My head is clearly muddied, and I'm so sick of coming undone." - Aeroplane Bathroom by Gordi

Summary: when a plague claims reader's sister's life, the news is delivered in the form of a letter; when she distances herself from everyone and hides the news, kaz fears that something serious is going on until she confesses what happened. Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship - they've been together for a while, so kaz feels comfortable being somewhat close to her) Word Count: ~2.6k Warnings: loss of a sister, heavy mentions of grief, mentions of a plague, brief violence (reader strangles someone) Genre: hurt/comfort Request? Yes (@morrigan-crowmwell)

Author's Note: i'm baaaaaaack and FINALLY on break!! i hope you all enjoy this (not so) little hurt/comfort work - i promise i'm following up with a fluffy one soon :))

It started with a letter a low-level Dreg delivered while the Crows gathered to plan a job.

He passed it to you with a murmur in your ear, and with furrowed brows, you flipped it over to see the return address. It was scrawled in the corner, a few letters missing or blurred together in the author's haste to send the missive, whatever it was. Kaz knew from the surprised look on your face that you recognized the address, but the expression disappeared before the rest of the Crows could notice or Kaz could evaluate it further. 

"I'll be right back," you said quietly, rising from your seat next to Kaz and disappearing into the relative privacy of his room. Had you known its contents, you would have gone to your room a floor down and opened it privately.

When you returned, you seemed unaffected to everyone but Kaz. He noticed the troubled purse of your lips, the way you fought to keep a neutral mask in place. You avoided his gaze as you sat back down, and you hardly contributed to the rest of the meeting, your eyes on the now-crumpled envelope in your hand.

In the two weeks since the letter arrived, you had withdrawn. You didn't visit Kaz in his office, you didn't take shots with Jesper at the Club, and you weren't seen outside your room unless necessary.

When the day for the next job came, you were uncharacteristically sloppy. What should have been an easy in-and-out theft of bank information on a close potential associate of the Dime Lions was nearly botched; knocking the guards unconscious took you longer than it should have, and you almost missed the correct papers in the target's desk. When you found them, the guards were beginning to stir again, and the Stadtwatch were en route.

"What happened today?" Kaz hissed, shutting his bedroom door behind him with a firm click. He leaned his cane against the wall and shed his coat and hat, hanging them on a hook haphazardly nailed into the wall.

You didn't respond, dropping the rolls of parchment onto the crooked table in the corner. The letters of your parents' note to you swam in your vision, and you could still feel the guards' pulses slowing beneath your fingertips as you choked them into unconsciousness. Your eyes burned, and you refused to face Kaz, instead crossing to his window and sitting on the bench beneath it. You wanted to be anywhere else.

If you didn't look at him, you wouldn't have to see or bear his disappointment and anger. And if you didn't see it, you could indulge in the numbness that was easier to feel than grief. It settled over you like a coat soaked by rain: heavy, but at least it protected you from the worst of the weather.

The consequences of your indifference would rip your temporary armor from you and push you into a cold, harsh reality. Your sister was gone, a life taken by a plague brought by an unwelcome merchant to your small town. It was a truth you weren't willing to face yet. So numbness it was, even as Kaz and the letter burning in your pocket urged you to confront your grief.

"Y/N," Kaz said, watching as you seemed to go somewhere else right in front of him. What happened? What did that letter contain? His anger about the job dissipated, and worry rose in its place as you refused to even look at him. 

He dragged a chair away from the crooked table and settled beside you, stretching out his right leg to ease the ache. You didn't acknowledge him moving closer, your eyes locked on the crows pecking outside Kaz's window. 

Some said crows were messengers from beyond, intermediaries between the lost and the living. You scoffed at the notion once, the same way you brushed off the idea of Saints looking over you.

That was before you lost someone. Now, a tiny part of you hoped it was true so you could say goodbye to something. Even a damned bird.

Kaz brushed your knuckles with his gloved hand to get your attention. His eyes scanned your face, so carefully arranged in a facade of neutrality. But there were cracks in it; the wobbling of your bottom lip, how your eyes seemed to shimmer as tears brimmed in them.

Sick and selfish as it was, Kaz wondered if that letter had something to do with him. Was it a warning for her to get away? Was it a threat to her life? Was it a detailed list of every awful, heartless thing Kaz had ever done, making her fear him and regret joining the Dregs?

"What's going on?" Kaz said quietly. His earlier anger was gone, replaced by a worry that ripped away the cloak of numbness you'd shrouded yourself in. Just as you suspected would happen.

His concern left you unshielded and exposed to the tempest of grief you'd tried so desperately to ignore, to push away until it left you alone. Now, your numbness was darkening, like storm clouds rolling over the harbor and promising havoc on the city. It twisted and roiled until it was no longer numbness but the all-consuming feeling of loss.

You wished you could hide from Kaz just so he couldn't see the tears beginning to slide down your cheeks. They were hot and salty and dripped down your neck, and you wiped them away as if you could conceal them. "Don't," you said hoarsely. "Don't ask me that." Maybe he would leave it be, and you could hide again for a while longer.

But it was Kaz. He watched you unravel before him and knew he couldn't leave it be. He wouldn't.

"What did the letter say?" he pressed. Usually, he didn't push you to share your secrets. Saints knew he had his own that he refused to reveal. But he couldn't watch you fracture before him and not know what was happening, especially if he could do something to fix it.

You knew Kaz wouldn't relent until you answered. Numbly, you took the letter from your pocket and held it out, still looking out the window at the crows. They were hopping around one another, picking at the remnants of seeds Kaz had thrown out for them the day prior. 

Kaz took the letter from your fingers and looked down at it, taking in the tear stains blurring the scribbles across the page. Still, the short message was decipherable, and Kaz suddenly understood. As he read those words, he was nine years old again, grieving the loss of his brother and watching birds pick up scraps of food and trash from the streets. Kaz knew precisely what you were feeling, down to the weight on your chest that threatened to crush your lungs.

"I'm sorry," Kaz said quietly. He took your hand and brushed his thumb over the back of your knuckles. This was one of the times when Kaz wished to be close to you. He longed to hug and hold you until sleep came, so you could get a short respite from the grief and know you weren't alone. "I'm so sorry, Bluebird."

His words broke your composure completely. The tender nickname ripped a sob from your throat, and you covered your mouth with your free hand to muffle the sound. You hunched over and hid your face in your knees, losing sight of Kaz and the birds and the world around you as the currents swept you away. You broke your hand free from his, curling in on yourself as you finally let yourself cry before him.

Hesitantly, Kaz moved from his chair to the open side of the bench. He swallowed, forcing away the nagging terror that rose as he gently pulled you into him. Kaz wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you against his chest, letting you hear his racing heartbeat. It wasn't the smoothest or most confident hug, and he fought hard to battle the discomfort of having you pressed against him like this. But he was trying. If it eased your pain for even a moment, he'd bear the cold harbor lapping at his flesh and the memories of floating bodies tugging at his mind.

It meant more to you than you could tell him, and you couldn't bring yourself to question whether he was sure about this. Instead, you threw your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest. He was warm and here and alive, and he was everything you needed right then as the dam exploded and any semblance of being okay disappeared. You sobbed into his vest as the truth came crashing down on you, crushing your lungs and making your head throb from the pain of trying to process it.

You weren't sure how long you cried. Somewhere between those initial moments of Kaz's arms around you and when you could finally catch your breath, the sun disappeared, and the stars emerged from behind the clouds. Turning your head to rest your ear against Kaz's heart, you blearily looked out the dirty window; above the clocktower in the distance was the brightest star in the sky. In your exhausted mind, you imagined it was your sister. That brought you more comfort than the legend about crows. She would've hated being a bird.

Somehow, in the warmth of Kaz's arms and with those words in your mind, you drifted into an uneasy sleep. Everywhere your dreams turned, there were crows. Sometimes your sister's laughter replaced their squawking. They dropped bright tulips on a fresh grave before flying away, their wings beating against the cloudy sky.

Kaz thought you had to be uncomfortable with the windowsill pressing into your back and your legs curled up at a strange angle. He carefully shifted, sliding one of his arms under your knees and the other around your shoulders. Then, Kaz stood and carried you over to his tiny bed. You stirred as he set you down and tucked his threadbare blanket around you. He held his breath, hoping you wouldn't wake, and he slowly let it out once you lapsed into stillness once more.

He stayed nearby as you slept, settling on the bench and looking over the city. When his eyes started drooping, he shook himself awake. When that didn't work, he grabbed a book and forced himself to read about Kerch's history.

As the night reached its darkest point and the East Stave reached its most raucous, you stirred into consciousness again. Your eyes were swollen from crying, and your head pounded. Yet the smell of Kaz, all smoke and rum and something rich, enveloped you and soothed you enough that you weren't severely bothered by your physical discomfort. 

You slowly sat up and scooted back against the wall, trying to shake off some of the heaviness lingering over you. Kaz lifted his head from where it was bent over the book in his hands and straightened up when he saw you were awake.

"Hi," he said softly. He closed his book and swung his legs off the bench. "How did you sleep?"

"Poorly." You crossed your legs and looked everywhere but at his face. This was what you'd hoped to avoid. This tense air between the two of you, the result of your inability to keep your shit together until you got to the privacy of your own room. You felt weak, unworthy of being a Crow. You wished the numbness would overtake you again.

Guilt joined the lineup of emotions, and you looked down at your hands. You were lucky they weren't stained with your friends' blood.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Though Kaz's tone wasn't accusatory, you flinched away from it. 

"I didn't want to burden you." You thought you'd be able to grieve in private without worrying the Crows or disrupting a job. Clearly, that wasn't the case; everything reminded you of your sister.

"You're not a burden to me," he said firmly. He understood your words and reasoning all too well, and he hated that he did. But you weren't a burden on him, the same way you never treated him or his failures in your relationship as such. To you, his struggle to touch you wasn't a failure. To him, your grief wasn't a burden. 

Kaz wished you would treat yourself with the same kindness you gave to him.

You kept your gaze fixed on your hands, even as his words caused your cheeks to flush. It took all your self-control to keep tears from brimming in your eyes; you couldn't tell whether they were from sadness or how he said the words as if they weren't up for debate. Like he didn't question the truth in them.

"When I was young, I lost my brother," Kaz admitted. His voice was quiet and suddenly seemed very far away. Your head lifted, and you looked at him in surprise. Kaz didn't notice, and his eyes focused on the Dekappel portrait across the room.

"He died of the Queen's Lady Plague. I got it soon after." He shuddered. He could still remember the feeling of the fever as it immobilized him, weakened him until he couldn't swim and had to use Jordie to get to shore. "There was nothing I could do, and I was alone in the city after that." His gaze finally turned to yours. "But you aren't alone. You have people who understand." I understand. "And you aren't a burden on me, so talk to me. The Crows, the Club, the Dime Lions, they can wait." 

Kaz hoped that you understood the words he wanted to say. You're more important than all of them.

Your bottom lip wobbled, and you slid out of his bed and crossed over to him. You sat beside him and took his hand, though you longed to throw your arms around him again. That was a level of physical contact he needed to initiate.

"Thank you," you whispered. Your eyes shimmered in the moonlight with more tears, and you wiped them away before resting your head on his shoulder to hide your face. You clasped his hand in both of yours and felt him lace his fingers with yours to comfort you. "I want to throw a tulip in the harbor for her tomorrow." Your voice cracked, and you swallowed before continuing. "It was her favorite flower."

"As soon as the sun rises," Kaz promised. He wished he had a gesture to offer for his brother, but Kaz Brekker wasn't known for sentimentality. It wasn't his style.

You lifted your head and wiped away a traitorous tear with the palm of your hand. "We'll bring a flower for your brother, too," you said quietly, watching Kaz's face. Was it too much to suggest? It felt wrong to not offer after he opened up to you.

Kaz's throat tightened, and he turned to look down at you. "That sounds nice." His eyes softened at the earnestness on your face, and he gently squeezed your hand to thank you.

Your shoulders loosened in relief, and you rested your head on his shoulder again, turning your eyes toward the Dekappel on the wall and watching as the moon's rays darkened the rich oil paint. The room was silent, but there was no need to fill it. Instead, you let yourself think of your sister and her tulips.

You'd start to knit yourself back together come morning.

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yodaa, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt

[pynkgothicka]

ＸＳ ＫＳＪ

Pairing - Jupe! Dark! Kim Seokjin x AFAB! Reader

Synopsis-Based off NOPE, you and your friend visit a new attraction called Jupiter's Claim, and a grown up child actor begins to fall for you. Part One of the Movies Series

Featuring - Megan Fox

Word Count - Around 2k

Tags and Warnings - Kidnapping, Allusions to Death

Authors Note - While studying the movie and pulling what I wanted, Steven Yuen was looking FARRRR TEW FINE. Also cried at the end, the unknown is scaryyyy

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

You hated RV parks.

You felt trapped at Megan's make-up artist job. The only benefit you had was being able to be around the horses they had brought in regularly. You stood by one in particular, Lucky, and next to .him was a quiet man, who you learned his name was Oj.

You knew better than to not bother him as he seemed on edge, but you liked being around Lucky. You would pet her mane, and just like being around her.

Soon however, Megan finally had her things together and motioned towards you. Letting out a sigh you wave towards Oj. “Bye, thanks for letting me hang out with you.”

“It’s nothin’.” He mumbled singling you off with a hand gesture.

“You like him or something?” Megan said walking next to you as you guys walked to her RV. You laugh her off slightly shoving her.

“Nah, I liked Lucky though. Oj was pretty chill, he just kind of let me be around. Guess I wasn't pestering him like the rest of that crew…” You deduct making your way inside her RV. You had your own space, in which you settled in. You dropped down on your bean bag exhausted. “Besides didn’t you want to go to that attraction or something?”

“Jupiters Claim? Of course, I paid good money for it, so you can bet your candy ass we’re going to see what's there.” You groan at Megan's want to go to some random attraction. You honestly rathered the RV at that point.

“Fine, just let me rest before we head out. You know I hate being out there in the sun like that.” You complain. Megan lets out a small squeal as she tackles you onto your small bean bag.

“Thanks! I could just kiss you right now!”

“Mhmm, the things I do for you.”

🏇

Walking into the attraction you were quickly put off. The old-time Western theme wasn't appealing to you at all. But from what Megan had told you on the way there, she wasn't there for the actual attraction. “I’m telling you, that kid Jupe, from Gordies Home, he owns this place.” Megan raves leading you towards the back of the attraction up towards the staircase to the main office. “I paid good money to see his memorabilia and talk to him.”

“Why not use it for something valuable, like a nice piece of jewelry or something?” You say walking behind her as she opens the door.

“Because I had extra money lying around and well I wanted to spend it.” Walking inside you were greeted by two people, one of them being a lady in a baby blue dress, cowboy hat, and boots complete the look. She stood talking on the phone and Megan tapped on the class making a motion towards the back door.

The lady smiled and gave a thumbs-up before getting back on the phone. Megan led you into the back office space. Sitting behind the desk was a man in a white top, obviously fitting the western aesthetic. His hair was black and slicked back, lips curving into a sweet smile. “Megan right?” He asked looking at her and shaking her hand.

Then his eyes turn to look into yours. He stood in a daze looking at you.

You give him an awkward smile and take his hand. He shakes his head and takes your hand in a firm grasp. “Sorry, I should’ve said something about bringing her around,” Megan begins clearing her throat. Even she could tell it was awkward. “She's cool people trust me.” Jupe seemed to be in his own world before finally pulling away.

“Oh it's fine, you know I don't usually let people bring others around, but just this once I'll let it slide.” He says laughing. He steps from behind the desk and puts a hand on the small of your back to move past you. You jump and look at him, Jupe giving you a smirk before continuing to move past you.

Megan smiles laughing along with him. “Trust me she's like a tag along, real chill.”

He smiles turning to look at you. “Let's just hope you’re a real Gordies Home lover.”

“Trust me, I’m really not.” You say laughing awkwardly. You really wanted to leave already.

🏇

Once his tour was over you felt weird about it all. Megan was ecstatic though, finally coming one step closer to one of her special interests. She asked questions the entire time, while you stood at the door pensive.

Megan then dismissed herself to take a call. This left you inside with Jupe. “So, are you usually traveling with her while she does makeup?” He asks as you stand near the window peering outside, watching Megan. You turn around nodding at him.

“No, I just tagged along when she invited me.” You say before speaking up again. “Listen I’m sorry if she was just being a lot in there. She's my friend but I know you have feelings and all.” You say looking at him. He seemed to be lost in his own world before snapping back to reality.

He blows out smiling. “It's right really, thanks for caring though. But let's not focus on that. What do you do for a living?” He said standing up and laughing, making his way closer to you.

You laugh with him awkwardly. “A horse jockey. Yeah, I mean when I saw some of the horses you guys had, I was excited. Like a way to be committed to the western theme.” You ramble on leaning by the window. You really just kept talking to not focus on how close he was getting towards you.

He nodded smiling towards you and sat on his desk, his body close to yours. “Yeah, I know a ranch where I get them, real quiet bunch… I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He said looking at you.

“Like what?”

“You don't seem to fit the whole being a side character to Megan's story. Like just look at you, you’re just gorgeous.” Jupe rambled leaning in. You leaned back as he got closer. “I think honestly you’d like it here. I can make you a star ya’ know.”

You tilted your head shaking it at him. “Listen Jupe-”

“Jin. The name is Jin.”

“Jin, I’m not really interested in whatever you’re trying to do. I’m just here because I want to support my friend.” You say putting your hands out to put some space between the both of you. “I’m not here for my claim to fame moment.” Jin shakes his head, pursing his lips together.

“You sure you don’t want more than what you have? You never even considered all you could have is someone, who gave you a chance at getting it?” He rambled. His hand went back as he grabbed a stapler on his desk. “I can make you happy… happy with me.”

Seeing him go for it you ducked as he first swung it. Your back hit one of the walls, your hand trying to stop the blow. But that failed as you instead injured your wrist. You held onto it losing your grip on the wall. “Get the fuck away from- AH!” You’re cut off by the stapler hitting your head. You see a bright light before you officially are knocked out.

Jin let out a deep breath as he dragged you into his memorabilia room. Jin closed the door, locking it, but not before making sure you were knocked out. Just around then, Megan comes back inside looking around. “Sorry, did she leave or something?” She asked looking around. Jin nodded going to sit back behind his desk.

“Yeah, she said she had a headache or something. Talked about going back to you guys RV.” He said snidely. “Did she not tell you before leaving?”

“No… Thank you once again, I'll head back now.”

🏇

He kept you in that room for weeks.

Only just recently were you moved out from there, and put in one of his set dressing houses.

He preached about falling for you and wanting to spend his days with you. Laying with you late at night, his hands around your waist. He laid kisses on your neck as he would tell you sweet nothings, yet what was even more messed up was that the entire time you were chained to the foot of the bed.

Of course, the chain had some length but still, you felt as if it was fruitless to escape. But you didn’t dare stay locked up forever. Especially after he told you Megan filed a missing persons report for you and had been asking around for and about you.

She even decided to go to his live show just to get her mind off things.

So you began walking and dragging the bed as you walked around the home. The bedframe would hit the door and you pulled at it hoping to snap off the leg the chain was hooked to. You kept doing it until it was the day.

The day of Jins live show.

Jin stood in front of you showing off his tailored suit. “Do you like it my Star?”

You hated that nickname.

“Yeah, I-It’s amazing… It’s really fancy.” You replied feeding into his decisions. Jin smiled and kissed your lips. Before standing up and heading for the door.

“Be safe okay, after this I’ll be back, and Amber will be gone.” He smiled wickedly walking out and locking the door. She was one of the reasons he moved you here. He wanted you away from his wife, who obviously hated you. You could've sworn whenever you did have to stay trapped in his office, that she tried to poison you more times than once.

But that's beside the point.

You heard the sounds of people, music everything. You spent that day continuing on your escape. You finally pulled off the leg and started banging a heavy piece of the chain on the doorknob.

The loud PA system made you speed up as you growled slamming the chain on the knob. The incessant drone of Jin talking acts as background noise to what you are focused on.

“And so, as I said, in just under an hour, ‘The Star Lasso Experience’ is gonna change you.“

CLANG!

“Stay in your seats. So that was new. They’re early...”

CLANG!

You let out a loud fuck as you cry out.

Then you hear it.

Screaming.

You stop what you're doing as the wind blows in the distance, the same amount of distance as you hear the screams. It's droning and you stop what you're doing to cover your ears, your head hurting at the sound. You wait as it all goes away before you put down the chain realizing you were probably in a life-or-death situation. With one final kick, you knock the door down.

Looking around you see that Jupiter's Claim is a mess. You couldn’t even begin to figure out what happened. But you begin to clamber away, your body hurting as you do so. You hadn’t moved like this in a while.

You make eye contact with a man. It hits you exactly who it is, Oj.

He stares at you too in shock. “Help…” Was all you could muster up to say to him. He makes a motion for you to follow him and you do. You speed up getting into the truck as he grabs Lucky.

“Just get me the fuck out of here now.”

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[gumnut-logic]

Jeff Tracy lost his wife in childbirth, giving him only one son, but fate gave him so much more.

-o-o-o-

It was a day to end all days.

The meteorite took out his father’s cornfield and the tractor shed.

It also landed only a week after he lost his wife in childbirth. All the technology they had and still…

His first born slept quietly in his arms as he stepped out onto the porch. His mother was fortunately still asleep. She had taken it all as a personal failure and was exhausted.

A destroyed tractor shed was minor in comparison.

If he had been himself, he would have rushed to put the fire out and save everything he could. But he wasn’t. Grief had him bowed over his little son who didn’t know what had been taken from him yet. Little Alan, so fragile and precious.

All he had left of Lucille.

The flames flickered orange light over his sleeping face.

He stood their staring at the shed as it eventually came down in a pile of burning rubble. It was loud enough to wake both Allie and his mother.

He was still trying to settle his upset little boy when Jeff was joined by his mom.

“What the hell happened?”

“Would you believe a shooting star?”

She stared up at him in the orange darkness. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head and rocked Allie a little more. That drew his mother’s attention to their newest family member.

Consequently, neither of them saw where the young boy came from. About ten years old he stepped away from the wreckage and approached the Tracys, determination in his eyes.

He said something in a language neither of them could understand. But he led them towards the smoking ruins and a capsule in a crater half buried under the remains of their prize tractor.

Three more young boys were curled up asleep inside what was obviously not a meteorite.

Jeff couldn’t see the colour of his eyes in the darkness, but morning revealed their startling blue.

And a considerable intelligence. The eldest boy was speaking English before the sun rose and his story was of a dying planet, the need for refuge and dead parents.

His visage cracked just a little as he mentioned Jor El.

He had three younger brothers, the youngest little more than a toddler.

It was like Lucy had sent him the family they both wanted from beyond the grave.

When asked why they had landed in the Tracys’ backyard. The answer was simply ‘Eos’.

Jeff didn’t know when the decision to keep the boys was made, how he was going to hide them from the authorities, who, no doubt would be on his front lawn first thing…perhaps it was the dark-haired younger brother crying on the eldest’s shoulder, the toddler drawing circles in the dirt with his finger, or maybe the middle youngest with hair of red-gold that stared at him with no emotion, yet every emotion on his face at one time.

Jeff had worked for the government. Jeff had been in space. Jeff knew what would likely happen.

The eldest had flame in his eyes.

But for whatever reason, the decision was made and Scott, Virgil, John and Gordon Tracy joined their little family and Alan had a whole set of big brothers to look after him.

To protect him for life.

-o-o-o-

Parenting four sons of non-terrestrial origin had its challenges. Scott was his biggest ally and to be honest, Jeff had no idea if he would have been able to manage it without him.

There was also his mother, Kyrano and Ohana, there were plenty of parental figures. But his boys were blatantly more than human.

The day little Gordy fell in the dam and didn’t come out sprouted more grey hair than Jeff thought he was capable of growing. Learning that, for his sons, breathing was optional…

Once Gordon discovered it, there was no keeping him out of the water at all.

Fake scuba diving equipment was invested in eventually, but for years, Jeff and Scott managed to cover for him.

Virgil’s artistic tendencies were another matter. They discovered the apparent ability to throw some kind of laser-like heat beam from their eyes the day Virgil burnt a rendition of the Mona Lisa into the living room wall.

There was a painting spree after that.

But it was John who revealed the most important skill they possessed.

The boy was obsessed with the stars. Jeff wondered if it was a determination to find a way back to where they had come from. Scott spoke rarely of what had happened there, but it was obvious all four boys were traumatised.

John cried out in his sleep, dreams wracking the six-year-old from the very first night in their new home.

He and Scott talked a lot. Jeff tried his best, but there were limits. So sometimes all he could do was be there and hold him as he cried.

As he grew older, the dreams grew fewer, but they always returned.

So it was with a little fear that Jeff watched his third eldest stare up at the stars.

But being the supportive father he was, he built an observatory on the roof. John was often to be found up there, listening to Eos as she spoke of stars humans hadn’t even discovered yet. Sometimes he perched precariously on the railing as if he was a bird who could launch himself into the sky and fly away.

And one day he did.

Perhaps not quite as elegantly as he could have. Jeff had just arrived home from a business trip late one night just in time to see his little stargazer fall off the damned roof.

He fell out of sight and Jeff was out of his car and running for his life. Only to find John spread-eagled mid-air, floating with surprise on his face.

It was chaos after that.

His boys took to the sky like a flock of birds. Even Scott who proved more a natural than should be possible.

The boy found freedom up there.

By this time Jeff had met Hiram Hackenbacker and at the risk of everything, he had let the young scientist in on the secret.

Jeff had needed money to keep his family safe and protected. It was the capsule that provided that income – unbeknownst to the world at large. Small technologies built patents and Jeff, with his business and aeronautical background, Scott’s and Eos’ help, was able to build Tracy Industries and earn far more money than he had initially expected.

The Tracy farm became a fortress of his family’s safety.

Outside its boundaries, they had to act human. Inside, his boys could be themselves, use their skills and play.

But as they grew, it became obvious it was not enough and Jeff began looking for another solution. His boys were good, they wanted to help…everyone.

Hell, Virgil was banned from watching the news and John had blocked him from all the news internet sites.

They hurt him too much when he knew if he was there, he could have helped, saved, all those people.

His boys were good and kind.

So, using the one thing he had that could help, he bought a distant island in the Pacific and with Hiram, who had a heart of gold, and Kyrano, whose heart was even softer, built the infrastructure that would enable them to do good and stay safe at the same time.

International Rescue was born.

No one needed to know the thunder of the sound barrier being broken wasn’t from the rocket engines built into Hiram’s miraculous machines, but from his sons pushing from inside, using the specially designed superstructures built into the craft.

Of course, all the brothers had a different skill set. Scott was obviously made for the sky. Gordon fell in love with the ocean the moment his eyes landed on it. The boy even built his own underwater habitat just to the south of the newly christened Tracy Island. Declared it his ‘fortress of solitude’ just inside the privacy barrier encircling the Island.

And then promptly invited Alan down there for a movie night.

Jeff just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

Perhaps he should have been worried. After all, Alan was simply human and did not possess the various skills of his older brothers.

But if there was anything the four eldest cared about beyond helping people, it was Alan.

Alan had four brothers who would do anything for him. He had to be the safest human on the planet. The four Krytonian children may have been adopted by Jeff and his mother, but they had adopted Alan in return and for all his human frailty, he was safe in their hands.

He flew with Scott and Virgil, swam with Gordon and stargazed with John.

In fact, Jeff was pretty sure it was Alan who kept John on the planet and not amongst the stars he so loved. There was a reason why Thunderbird Five was built, beyond John’s love of those far off points of light.

It was because Alan followed him.

Perhaps in the footsteps of Jeff who had gone to space himself, but here was a brother who could reach the stars unaided.

So, Allie became part of International Rescue, albeit with the protection of the elder four.

Jeff managed the business that kept them hidden and supplied while his boys went out and saved human lives.

It was a good life.

Until one day after a business meeting in London, Jeff met a man by the name of Hood.

Who smiled as he picked Jeff by the front of his shirt.

With one hand.

-o-o-o-

Supermen AU

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 37 - Ready

Story to date in order (Tumblr / AO3)

Ch 35 & Ch 36

… *sneaks this one out and pretends it’s only been a couple of weeks*…

Herewith some soft bros working through stuff then Gordon takes charge.

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The sketchbook was heavier than the jacket.

Both were tucked under Scott’s right arm as he clung to Virgil’s hand with his left. His brother seemed to float along after him, unresisting, barely aware of his surroundings. That was… not ideal. The jacket just hung innocently from his forearm, as if it hadn’t been the cause of all this… but the book? The book and all it contained was conspiring with gravity and actively trying to escape him. He pressed it hard into his side with his elbow to prevent it slipping any further. The spiral binding wire dug into his hip.

The temperature in the villa was as perfectly climate-controlled, as ever. But Virgil was shivering despite the flannel and undershirt.

Time to get him up into the sunshine. He pulled a little more firmly and they passed into the kitchen.

Gordon, looking up from his plundering of the fridge, raised an eyebrow as they passed. Scott inclined his head - he had it in hand but had no objection to the squid covering his six. Gordon snapped his heels together and raised a half-eaten bratwurst to his forelock in a snappy, if objectively ridiculous, salute. Scott rolled his eyes before calling “Bear snacks would be good actually, Gords” over his shoulder.

Virgil didn’t acknowledge any of this at all, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. However as they stepped outside he closed his eyes and turned his face towards the late morning sun then murmured:

“It’s ok, I’m not, uh, seeing anything I shouldn’t be. I’m fine.”

Scott snorted. “Your definition of fine is worse than mine.”

Virgil sucked in a breath and huffed a small laugh “Pretty low bar that.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Steering him carefully across the deck and around the pool, he engineered his little brother into a lounger then pulled another alongside. Gradually the tension eased in Virgil’s shoulders and he melted into the chair with a sigh and a muttered “Sorry Scotty”.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Vee.”

A little wrinkle between the eyes betrayed some disagreement with that statement but Virgil didn’t appear to have the energy to argue.

The sun beat down on both of them.

Scott leaned back in the chair and pretended to relax too, while carefully assessing Virgil out of the corner of his eye. His breathing seemed to have evened out. That was a good sign. He closed his own eyes for a moment and tried to steady his own stampeding heart rate.

Watching his brother in the throes of the kind of panic attack he recognised so vividly but had always tried to kid himself into believing most of his precious family would never have to understand first hand… it felt like something was clawing at the inside of his rib cage. None of them should ever have had to have known it… Gordy sadly excepting, of course, but at least nobody, even Scott himself, could truly believe that what happened to his little fish has been his fault, whereas this… this was more complicated. At the moment he couldn’t work out if he was more sad or angry or… something else entirely.

It was taking everything Scott had in him not to suggest they abandon the whole scheme. And then to wrap his brother up in something fluffy and build a 12ft wall around him.

And fire the uniform into the sun.

He reached a hand over to take hold of his brother’s but found Virgil still had the pencil clutched in his fist.

“I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“It doesn’t have to be today.”

Virgil looked up, exhaustion painted all over his face. “If not now, when? I have to beat this, Scott.”

“Do you, though? I can just get rid of it. You never have to see it again?”

His little brother closed his eyes again and shook his head.

“It’s not… really about the clothes though is it? I have…” he gestured irritably at his own head “neural pathways to fix.” Another little frown “No, not fix. Retrain.”

“I understand.”

“I know you do. Look maybe I’ll never really be actually ready but I think I’m going to have to just do it anyway?”

“Ok, as long as you don’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Virgil grimaced. Then pushed himself upright and held his hand out to Scott. It was almost steady. Scott took it and squeezed but his brother didn’t open his eyes.

“Pass it to me.”

“Now?”

“Right now. Please.”

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Virgil pulled the jacket across his lap and tentatively laid a hand on it. The adrenaline rushed back - he shivered again - then took a deep breath and lifted a sleeve a little to study the weave .

“Do you find the texture unpleasant? Is it like me and crunchy towels?”

He scratched at it gently and noted the whispery hiss of the robust fabric under his fingernail. “Hmm no, not really. It’s only that… it’s kind of unique isn’t it? Nothing else we wear is made of this and i guess it reminds me of when we left you the first time… I was hugging you and… and dad dragged me off because I was embarrassing you and I tried to grab your hand and missed and just caught the sleeve.”

“You weren’t embarrassing me. I nearly ran after you actually.”

Virgil smiled weakly. “But it makes no sense because it’s not as if you were wearing it the last time before… uh, before you didn’t come back. If anything it’s that white USAF hoodie I should have a problem with.”

“Just as well, I still wear one of those. Or at least I did… not seen it in a while actually.”

“Gordon.”

Scott rolled his eyes and groaned “Whyyyy?? My stuff doesn’t even fit him.”

“Bad rescue. He couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

They both looked over at the kitchen where the little brother in question was busying himself with making ludicrously extravagant cocktails.

“I guess… none of these things have to be completely logical, right?” Scott glanced back and reached over to squeeze Virgil’s shoulder.

“Hmmmph. Maybe. Would be easier if it was.”

In fairness there wasn’t much his brother could say to that. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Scott was holding himself very still in a way that betrayed he was trying very hard to look relaxed. Virgil wasn’t fooled and slyly observed him - every so often his eyebrows would raise a little as if he was about to say something but caught himself.

“What do you want to ask, Scooter?”

“I was just wondering… look we don’t have to talk about it now. Don’t worry.”

“I’d like to though. What are you wondering?”

“Ok I was wondering… What happened, Vee? In the hospital? I know you were there, you were the only reason I knew I was out of… There but… my memory is, well it’s pretty hazy. I looked up your records… I’m sorry” he chewed on his lip “I guess that was out of order but I needed to know how to help and what the psychiatrist and grandma were talking about. But all I could see was you were admitted and there was some security incident but no details and then you were seemingly staying in the same ward as me but as a patient? And you… you had an injury? And… I was just worried whether…that, that wasn’t me lashing out, was it? When I was… I didn’t…?”

“Scotty it wasn’t you. I promise, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Ok. Ok that’s good. So what… did… how were you?” Scott trailed off inarticulately and in the face of his brother’s confusion, Virgil found himself suddenly, finally equal to the task of talking about the time he’d spent a decade trying to pretend was a horribly vivid dream.

“I don’t remember it so very well myself. I got told later that I wasn’t compliant with the meds and so most of what I remember isn’t exactly… y’know... uh reliable? But I believe you and I escaped a secure ward and scaled the side of the building in quite unsuitable pants. Well it was only me in the bad pants, you were…” he frowned and shook his head “Well. Not… not there. Actually. So… heh. It’s academically quite interesting because I can see you there in my memory as clear as anything else. But you weren’t of course… anyway at the time I was adamant it was all your idea which, err, concerned them. Obviously. Dad was… well I dread to think about his reaction. You were on the seventh floor so um… yeah. It was probably nuclear. But he was unusually gentle with me. And I guess somehow during that I cut myself on something. And after that I slept in your room which must have been contrary to every policy in the book but he’d probably threatened the entire hospital administration with something unpleasant and legal so… yeah. I was there while you were getting better.”

“You climbed out a seventh floor window?”

“In. My room was lower down. Maybe only a floor or two. To be honest I mostly just remember having to hold up my own pants as they had no waistband to speak of… you were entirely unsympathetic about that, by the way.”

Scott blinked then tried to school the smirk off his face as Virgil blushed.

“So even while unconscious in a hospital bed I still managed to get you into a ludicrously dangerous situation.”

“That’s about the sum of it, yeah.” Virgil grinned back, suddenly feeling a weight lifting as the incident became a source of humour rather than fear. Catching amused blue eyes he added in a quieter voice: “I had to find you, didn’t I?”

Scott reached for his hand again and seemed to be searching for the right thing to say when Gordon materialised bearing a broad grin and a tray precariously loaded with a wide range of comfort foods and brightly coloured cocktails.

Scott cleared his throat, accepted and took a tentative sip of the blue one. Then screwed up his face and spluttered:

“Fie, Squid! What treachery is this?”

“Sherbet! Some fruit purées. Rums. A smidge of chilli, that blue stuff. Standard summer cocktail fare Scotty boy.”

“Rums PLURAL?”

“It’ll put hairs on your chest! Relax you a bit.” Gordon added something under his breath but Virgil was distracted from asking him to repeat it by the more pressing matter of observing his elder brother’s attempts to scrape the fizzy residue off his tongue with a cocktail umbrella.

Virgil eyed his green-containing glass with some trepidation.

Yours is virgin, Virgie-oh. I’m not stupid. Last time you painted a portrait whilst drinking, John had a giant eye on his cheek.

“It was a cubist piece! You’re even more of a heathen than he is!” The tiny head jerk towards Scott was unnecessary.

“Hey! I get art!”

Virgil conveyed his skepticism through the medium of eyebrows.

“Well… once you’ve explained that’s it’s meant to be art… then I get it!”

“So, gentlemen,” Gordon cut in before Virgil could launch himself into a distracting but satisfying lecture on art appreciation, “have you got a plan?”

Virgil tried to remember how to swallow and let Scott confirm that no, they hadn’t got that far yet.

“Well lucky for you chumps, your genius little brother does!” He grinned like a trashy quiz show host from the 1900s then pointed at Scott and the glass of blue stuff:

“You - drink that. Ideally in one. And you…”

His wingman’s finger of inevitability swung to rest on Virgil’s nose.

“You’re ready.”

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[puckpocketed]

whats up w jamsen 🤔 why do u like him? why does he keep not playing?

He's a 2020 7th round pick I've become enamoured with LOL!! he signed for a 2 year ELC just this summer and i did a little digging and. well. he's the creachurest boy to ever live

a scrungly angel in a previous incarnation (used to bleach his hair)

lame ass stupid ass cringe ass designer/hypebeast obsessed LOSER <- the la kings keep signing guys i want to bully

He makes rap music on the side - stage name KIDJAM$EN - and plans to pursue music if hockey doesn't work out

was very popular back home apparently! flashy player. one of the first clips i saw when he got signed was him hitting a michigan

calls himself BOYWONDER <- all caps ! on his instagram

im 99% sure he brought exactly one (1) maroon suit with him to north america after trawling ontreign flickr and seeing him in the exact same suit with a rotating roster of fuckass beanies... i think Marco Sturm should give him special permission to wear his shitty hypebeast gear to games tbh

eurotrap weed dj yes-and thread (including neonfretra art!! <3)

I just love big personalities so much. I think I saw in media the Reign boys think he's a bit shy but I'm sure that'll change quick!! Jack Studnicka drives him to the rink :3

As for why he's a 4th liner who rotates in and out... Anyone's guess is as good as mine. I suppose they're trying to get him to acclimate to NA ice after playing in Europe? And there are other players who come before him on the depth chart (Fagemo, Chromiak, Pinelli) He's also been injured recently (right after his Gordie Howe hatty.... </3) so I'm sure they want to ease him back in.

He's very much a soft-skill winger despite the bouts of mean purse dog (here he is being picked up by an official after getting into a fight. We can't actually see his feet dangling off the ice but I like to imagine they are)

Sturm was making him take faceoffs when I was watching the Reign regularly a couple months back, apparently wanted to get him more puck touches. I have a sample size of a handful of games and I think he's adjusting well.

when I complain it's mostly performative, I love holding petty grudges that mean nothing!! The Kings really like building through the draft, they've said so in a few draft videos I've watched, and I mostly trust their development pipeline... the Reign being so competitive at the same time as the Kings is certainly helpful and I'm sure Sturm is part of that lol

and honestly as to why I like Jams... at first it was his vibe but I've actually found it's pretty exciting to watch him with the puck on his stick!! He's a good carrier and passer, I can always count on him to do something fun, a little sideways.

despite the poor odds i hope he sees time with the Kings <3

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 4

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Look who has finally decided to grace us with her presence!”

“Hello, Vic” I say, giving her a hug. She is my best friend from university, the first person who talked to me on my first day, and the one who always helps me and shares her notes with me when I need them. If it wasn't because of her, I don't know how I would have passed most of my exams. 

“You don't know how much I miss you, Inés.” 

“I miss you too” I say, squeezing her a bit tighter. 

After her, some of my other friends and classmates come to say hello, and then…

“Inés?” Pedri says as he leaves the classroom, his smile growing wider as he processes that I actually am real and standing in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“Today we finished training earlier because it was recovery day, and I told myself… Why don't I stop by the campus, pay my friends a visit, and maybe invite them to have a drink all together? I can't remember the last time we did that” I shrug, making his smile grow a bit more when he understands my reference.

“I think that's a wonderful idea!” Vic says.

“Are you guys in?” I ask them. Besides Vic, I am the closest with two other guys, Ander and Nacho, and a girl, Lucía. Though she is sick and hasn't attended class today according to what they have told me.

“I can't say no to free beers” Nacho laughs.

“Pedri?” I ask him. He looks weird, as if he has seen a ghost. And his smile is completely gone.

“I…”

“Gordiiiiii!” someone with a very high pitched voice screams.

“Not her” I hear Vic say before rolling her eyes.

“Who?” I ask.

“Hello, gordi” the girl says, completely ignoring us all and hugging Pedri by the neck before forcing him to kiss her. Because the one screaming and calling him “gordi”, is Nerea. His girlfriend.

“Hi” he replies, his arms limp by his sides. 

“Aren't you happy to see me?”

“I am.”

“Then why aren't you hugging me back?” 

“Sorry” he says, doing it the same way you see some famous people do when they take photos with fans and they are uncomfortable or don't want to touch them. “I just wasn't expecting to see you today. Didn't you have class until lunch time?”

“I did, but they canceled it all because our teacher got sick” she shrugs.

“Shame” Pedri sighs. “I mean, I feel bad for your teacher. Because there seems to be some virus going around, Lucía also is sick.”

“Lucky you, you have a future nurse taking care of you” she giggles before booping his nose and now making me roll my eyes. I just hope no one has noticed. 

“Anyway…” Nacho says. “Should we get going? I could do with that beer right now.”

“Wait, were you going some… You” Nerea says after checking the people around her and realising she isn't alone. “Shouldn't you be kicking a ball or whatever it is you do?”

“Hello to you too, Nerea” I reply with my best smile. We have only met a few times, but every single one of them, she's looked and talked to me as if I smelled like rotten cheese. “And no, no kicking a ball for me today.”

“And don't you have anything else to do? Anywhere else to be?”

“Nerea…” 

“What?” she says, looking at Pedri. “She is kind of famous, isn't she? Or that's what you say. Famous people have busy lives.”

“Yes, Inés is famous in the football world and her life sometimes is a bit hectic” Vic says, linking her arm with mine. “But unlike others, she doesn't forget about her friends or where she comes from, and always finds a moment to be with them.”

“She is one of those down to earth ones” Nerea says with a fake smile.

“Exactly” Vic replies. “And now if you'll excuse us, we have to go” she says before starting to walk away, dragging me behind her.

“Pedri, aren't you coming?” Ander asks him.

“I…”

“We are” Nerea says, grabbing his arm and starting to walk.

“I think we are gonna need something stronger than beer to deal with her” Vic whispers.

“What?” I chuckle.

“She's become insufferable, Inés. I don't know what has happened to her, but… You'll see” she says while I look back at Nerea and Pedri. 

She's texting with her free hand, the other definitely digging into his arm as he tries to get free and walk next to Nacho and Ander. You can see it on the way his face twists.

And maybe I am a bit (or very) biased here and I'm basing this in all the romantic movies I've watched and my own feelings, but that… that's not how a happy and in love couple looks like.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Thank you very much” Nacho smiles at the waiter after he brings us our drinks. “Should we make a toast?”

“To Inés” Ander says. “To having an amazing season and coming to visit us more often.”

“Especially if it means free beer” Nacho adds, making us all laugh. All, but Nerea, who didn't want anything to drink and is just sitting as close to Pedri as their chairs allow her to. And him… He keeps looking as miserable as he did before, the chuckle he just left after Nacho's comment being the saddest one I've heard in a long time. Who is this guy and what has this woman done to the funny and cheeky one I know?

“To Inés!” Nacho says.

“To me” I smile when they all raise their drinks.

“Woah, careful there” Vic laughs when Ander almost chokes with his. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. But don't move.”

“What?”

“Don't move, Victoria” he says, sinking a bit in his seat.

“Why?” she asks with a confused look.

“Just don't move!”

“Wait… isn't that girl behind Vic the one I saw you with the other day?” I ask him. 

“What?” Vic says, quickly turning around. “She is! Ander, are you trying to hide from her?”

“Maybe” he shrugs, sinking in his chair a bit more and covering his face with his drink.

“What did you do this time?” I laugh.

“Nothing.”

“Ander…”

“I did nothing, Inés. She's the one who does… things.”

“Things?” Pedri asks him, arching an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, things. Like… intimately.”

“Is she into bdsm or something?” Nacho laughs. “Oh my God, she is!” he says when Ander’s face turns bright red. 

“Holy shit” Pedri laughs, finally sounding like himself.

“It isn't funny, ok?” Ander says, sitting up once the girl has left. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Yes, let's talk about something else” Nerea says. “Like Inés, for example.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. As a famous football player, you must have a bunch of boys sliding into your dms.”

“Not really.”

“No? Why?” 

“I don't know” I shrug.

“C'mon, Inés. You know why” Nacho says. “People believe you and Víctor are secretly together, and they are scared of him. Especially knowing the way he is on the pitch” he chuckles.

“But we aren't.”

“Aren't you?” Nerea asks me. “Because I've seen the comments he leaves on your Instagram posts, all the hearts and heart eyes emojis. And you are constantly doing videos and campaigns together.” 

“I also leave those emojis on Leah Williamson’s posts, and that doesn't mean we are together” Ander says.

“Maybe because you aren't his type? Like at all?” Vic laughs.

“Yeah, well. Little details” he shrugs.

“But if you aren't together, why does he do that?” Nerea asks me. 

“Because he's hoping that it will somehow make Inés fall in love with him” Vic says.

“Fall in love? I think he's trying something else, Vic” Nacho says. “Something like what Ander and that girl did, but a bit more gentle.”

“Nacho!” Vic and I say, hitting him at the same time. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry” he apologises. “But you all know that's what he wants.” 

“He isn't the first person I've seen trying to do that, tho” Nerea says. “To somehow try to convince someone to sleep with them by leaving that kind of comments… or by liking all their Instagram posts” she says, looking at me. 

Shit. She's noticed. Of course she's noticed! It's her boyfriend’s Instagram, Inés! If Carla noticed after just a quick scroll, of course she has too!

“Don't you find him attractive, Inés?” she asks me. “He's really hot.”

“Too many muscles” I quickly say, taking a sip from my drink to somehow hide that my cheeks have started to burn.

“He could give me half of them and still have too many” Nacho laughs. 

“He isn't your type, then?” Nerea asks me again.

“Nope.”

“Then how do you like your men?”

“I don't know” I shrug.

“C'mon, Inés. We all know our type” she insists. “Like maybe you like them with brown eyes, dark hair, not too tall, with facial hair, an accent…”

“Shit!” Vic jumps when my phone starts ringing, making everything on the table shake with its vibration and stopping Nerea's description of Pedri. The others may have not noticed since my phone covered her voice when she mentioned the accent, but I have and so has he, the way he was clenching his jaw saying it all. 

“I have to take this, it's my agent” I say, getting up from my chair while Nerea doesn't take her eyes from me. I actually feel them in the back of my head the whole time I'm on my phone.

“Everything ok?” Vic asks me when I join them again. 

“I'm afraid I have to leave.”

“What? Why?”

“An interview I was supposed to be giving tomorrow has been rescheduled for today. El clásico week, you know” I shrug.

“Oh, yes!” Ander says. “I'm so sorry I can't go watch you play, Inés… But you know I'm doing this course during the weekends, and I can't skip any of the classes.”

“It's ok, don't worry.”

“Are you guys going?” he asks everyone else.

“I love Inés very much, but you all know football bores me to death” Vic chuckles.

“And I have my cousin's wedding” Nacho says. “Though if I could skip it and go to the game instead, God knows I would.”

“They are gonna give you free drinks and you love that, Nacho. You said it a few minutes ago” Vic says.

“Yeah, but the company won't be the same.”

“Aww” she says, giving him a hug. “What about you, Pedri? Are you going to the game?”

“He can't” Nerea says, stopping him before he is able to say anything. “We are going away on a romantic trip. Aren't we, gordi?” 

“Yeah” he replies, forcing himself to smile.

“Can't wait to be alone just the two of us. It's gonna be so special…” she says before grabbing him by the chin and basically forcing him to kiss her. Again.

“It's ok, guys. Don't worry” I say, trying to ignore what is going on next to me and the way Nerea is giggling. “We'll meet again soon and make up for today and the game.”

“Will you be paying for our drinks?” Nacho asks me.

“I will, don't worry. And I better get going. I'm meeting my agent for lunch and I can't be late.”

“Then let me give you a hug” Vic says, getting up from her seat. “You are so lucky you won't have to deal with Nerea and her jealousy anymore…” she whispers.

“What?”

“She's so jealous of you, Inés” she whispers even lower before looking at her. She is now basically making out with Pedri's neck, him looking the other way while being as stiff as a wooden plank. “Anyway, good luck, and go Barça or whatever it is you say.”

“Go Barça is fine” I smile. “Goodbye, guys.”

“Pedri, where are you going?” Nerea says when he finally frees himself from her grip and stands up.

“To the bathroom. Am I not allowed to?” he says, sounding harsher than he probably wanted to.

“Yes, of course. Go.”

“Thank you” he says, starting to walk in my direction. “See you soon, Inés” he says as he passes by my side, his smile (the one I like and that I know is real) making my stomach do funny things. 

“Bye” I manage to say, my voice coming out too low. And why? Because he has touched my fingers as he walked past me.

And even though it's been the slightest of touches, it's been enough to send electricity all the way up my arm and to other parts of my body, something I hope no one else has noticed, and definitely not Nerea.

Definitely not her.

[fanfic-the-wish-your-heart-makes]

What Gotham Fox Characters Are Like on April Fool's Day (Part 1: Jim & Jerome)👻🤡😂

Warnings: mention of Jerome not being against using bombs

Jim Gordon Busy. He's busy fighting crime. So busy that he'll just nod at whatever prank news you give him. "Did you see the news, Jim? They wrote your name "Jam Gordy". "Mhm." "Look, a deer!" "Love you too, sweetheart." 🤦😂

To his defence: he really does have tons to do. Which means that he'll melt right into his special someone's arms at the end of the day.

Jerome Valeska

Is also busy. Doing crime. But he finds time to tell you all about it. "Let me tell you, I did not expect much from the green guy, but he's got good ideas, alright. Do you have an idea too? Come on, I wanna hear 'em, I'm a spontaneous guy."

Anything you want to do is good enough for him. Be it something small or something as big as a bomb. But best don't mention such things. He might think you stopped talking about it due to insecurities, not common sense 😆.

[deconstructthesoup]

Fantasy High Good Place AU

I am very happy that y'all voted for this, because it's been living in my brain rent-free for the past couple weeks.

So, right off the bat---this is partially self-indulgence, and partially a little exploration of what the Bad Kids would be like as adults if they hadn't found each other... and, well, if they were living in a more mundane world. And, of course, I had to combine and add a couple roles, just to make everyone fit.

Fig: She's in the Eleanor role as the main POV character, and as the first person who decides to learn how to be better. In life, she was a twenty-seven-year-old musician living in Phoenix, Arizona who was still trying to find her big break, and got by via drug-dealing after a string of shitty service jobs. Fig hasn't spoken to her mom in years, even after both Gilear and Gordie (aka Gorthalax) have both died, and she put up a front of selfishness and constant lies due to not trusting anyone and being afraid of being vulnerable. But when she dies and supposedly gets mistaken for a pro-bono death-row lawyer, she realizes that she's gotta ask for help...

Ayda: She's in the Chidi role---a high-strung ethics professor who devoted her life to figuring out the deep secrets of the universe, often at the cost of her own mental health. She's not as indecisive as Chidi, but she's very much of the mindset that ethical standards should always be upholded, and she initially sees nothing wrong with the points system. As Ayda becomes closer to Fig, she starts to pick up on how the system doesn't count for extenuating circumstances, and how much of an actual minefield ethics is... and she starts to reflect on her own life, where she never knew how to connect with others and stayed in her comfort zone of academia. Throughout bonding with the others, she slowly learns how to let her walls down and challenge the system.

Fabian: He's in a Tahani role, as the upper-class socialite who pretty much bought his way into "heaven" and definitely has a bunch of narcissistic tendencies. Unlike Tahani, however, he's very much aware of his own failings, and he constantly stresses about how fragile his standing and happiness is---though, he's become incredibly good at hiding it. Fabian's pretty much been living in the shadow of his late father's legacy for his whole life, and he spent most of that life trying to be just as good, if not better, than him... so, when he supposedly gets into the "Good Place," it's essentially proof that he did everything right. Of course, that still doesn't keep him from feeling like there's something amiss, especially since there's some issues with his assigned soulmate...

Riz: In life, Riz was a P.I. who mostly did petty work for rich people and got used to doing things that were vaguely shady in order to get by. By the time he died, he had a very low opinion of people in general, and had a "dog eat dog" mindset... which was immediately blown out of the water the second he realized that he'd been mistaken for a brilliant secret agent, and he was going to spend his afterlife with a self-centered rich boy as romantic soulmates. Riz being Riz, he immediately started to figure a way out of this situation, eventually finding out Fig---and one other person---and agreeing to take Ayda's ethics lessons if it meant he could earn his spot in the Good Place... though, of course, he's still subconsciously picking up on the little hints that something is off.

Kristen: She's in the "Jason" role... sorta. When she was alive, she was a former member of a conservative Christian cult who left when she was nineteen, spent the next five years trying to find another truth to pursue, and spent the last three years of her life partying her problems away and living high on nihilism. So it was quite a shock for her when, after dying, she supposedly got sent to the Good Place... and only because they thought that she's a humanitarian pastor, and straight to boot. Kristen initially doesn't want to waste time with ethics lessons, but as more and more things start to go wrong, she reluctantly agrees---and ends up reconnecting with that curious, searching part of herself that she thought she'd left behind, over and over again.

Gorgug: When he was alive, he was a physicist who made a lot of impressive discoveries---many of which had the potential to really help people---but due to the fact that he had a lot of issues with standing up for himself and believed himself to not be as smart as he actually was, he tended to let himself get taken advantage of and have other people take credit for his work. Getting into the Good Place kind of confirmed Gorgug's belief that keeping your head down and being humble would pay off eventually... until his assigned soulmate immediately told him that she was a) gay, and b) here by mistake. The two of them do become pretty good friends, and Gorgug even sits in on some of Ayda's ethics lessons, learning a bit about himself as he does.

Adaine: She's Janet---or, rather, an "Oracle," one of many informational assistants made by the Good Place (the Bad Place has Informants, while Accountants have Librarians). Every Oracle is given a name upon being activated in order to distinguish her from others, and, well, hers is Adaine. She starts off as your typical cheery, happy-to-help living Siri, but as time goes on and she gets rebooted over and over again, she starts to form genuine connections with the humans, and with connections come actual feelings... including the rise of mild anxiety. Adaine's grateful for that, though, as she sees becoming more human as an incredible experience.

Aelwyn: Honestly... there was no other character who was bitchy, multifaceted, and weirdly loving enough to be Micheal. At first, underneath her quirky and "cool older sister" angel persona, she's every bit the callous, vindictive, and cruel demon who only lives to torment human souls and prove her worth to her boss. But reboot after reboot, she fails, the humans become closer and figure her out... and she's eventually forced to cave. Aelwyn never fully loses her bitchiness and slightly amoral nature, but she does develop a heart and self-awareness as she becomes friends with the humans---and as she forms a sisterly connection with Adaine. Even a demon can learn to grow.

I have more thoughts, but I've spent a lot of time figuring out how to make this coherent, so... yeah!