#it's a little bit more cartoonish than what i usually do

[quentinfiletmignon]

» THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T EXPLAIN «

PAUL LANDERS & RICHARD Z. KRUSPE • RAMMSTEIN

A4 • STABILO point 88 liners

[haikyu-mp4]

Classroom duty

word count; 1317 – f!reader

Iwaizumi was on classroom duty this week and he used to hate that. It meant that he got to volleyball practice late and didn’t even have time for a healthy snack. In addition, he had to make some kind of small talk with whoever he was paired with. It goes by the pairs in which the desks are placed and he was never the best at socialising outside of the athletic world.

However, classroom duty wasn’t so bad this time around, because ever since last break, he was paired up with you. Iwa didn’t notice you that much before, he just knew you were bright and kind. And of course, he couldn’t deny to the universe that you were nice to look at, but he would still keep trying to deny it to his friends. 

He knew he was fond of you. You with the cartoonish drawings of the teacher on the sides of your notes so you could make him smile in class. You with the lipgloss that looked like it might not taste good, despite how it made your lips look so biteable. You with the evil little laugh every time your paper ball would hit the trash and his didn’t. Yeah, Hajime Iwaizumi was very fond of you.

“Iwa?”

“Sorry,” he shook his head and chuckled awkwardly, glancing around at the pristine classroom. “What did you say?”

You snorted a laugh and turned around pointing to the garbage bags collected by the door and ready to be thrown away. “I said, let’s go?” Hajime spurred into action, happily finishing up here and putting those muscles to good use.

Usually, there was this thing where the people on classroom duty did rock paper scissors for who took the trash, letting the other off. No one knows who started it, but it stuck. Oikawa seemed to believe you and Hajime were the only ones who didn’t follow tradition.

“Why does she even go with you when all she does is hold up the lid on the trash can while you do all the heavy lifting?” Oikawa complained now that his best friend was finally back in his volleyball uniform. Some might say he was jealous.

Iwaizumi shrugged, about to answer when someone else did from behind him, making him turn around and causing Oikawa to lift a brow at the interruption.

“Sounds like she likes you.”

“Mad dog?” Oikawa exclaimed dramatically with a gasp. Kyotani glared at the setter.

“No, we just do it that way, you know?“ Iwaizumi said, sounding a bit like he was fishing to hear it again. Hear that you might like him.

“Okay, whatever,” Kyotani grumbled. Charming as ever. His two per cent of extra respect for Iwaizumi went into that effort and now it was spent.

They went back to practice, and Oikawa forgot about the interrupted gossip as soon as the practice game started, leaving Iwaizumi to mull this over himself. When this week was over, would you stop talking to him so much?

The next morning, you’re both there early to prepare the classroom, and Iwaizumi greeted you with a shy nod. “Last day!” you cheered. Iwaizumi’s eyes followed you for a few seconds as you skipped over to the teacher’s desk, where you picked up the note left by the teacher and then walked over to the chalkboard to prepare it. He liked how you were always so bright, even as you had to be there earlier than everyone else. And then he was happy to see you weren’t invincible, when you looked a little more tired in the evening while walking out with the trash, stubborn smile still directed at him like you refused to give up.

But for now, it’s still morning. “You sound excited, any plans this weekend?” he asked, leaving the mop in the corner after mopping the floors. Then he strolled up beside you, picking up the sponge to go wet it. You turned to glance at him exactly when he turned away. Maybe he’ll ask me out if I say no?

“Not much. Just happy it’s the last day we have to do these chores,” you said, seemingly carefree in adding little hearts and stars around what the teacher wanted. It made Iwa smile as he placed the wet sponge on the little edge beneath the chalkboard.

Wait, she’s happy we’re done? Maybe Kyotani is totally clueless. “Oh,” he said, not meaning to. “Me too.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” you teased, putting the chalk down and turning to him. “You like taking the trash out?”

“Maybe…” he said defensively, clenching his fists and then unclenching them again. “I like hanging out with you.” There, at least he said something.

“Iwaizumi…” He looked at you hopefully but glanced away quickly when he realised his face was burning. “You know we still sit beside each other when the week is finished, right? It’s not like I’ll stop talking to you.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, embarrassment sinking into every nerve of his body because he hadn’t much thought about that. “Of course,” he said first like it was instinctual. I just like hanging out with you alone. That’s what he should have said. Instead, he stuttered out meaningless sounds for a second before the bell rang and students started rushing to their seats, meaning you had to move too.

Oikawa sighed from the entrance to the classroom, in absolute disbelief at how his best friend, the ace of all aces, in his opinion, could fumble so badly for a girl.

“Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi closed his eyes at the agitating, grating voice that interrupted his peaceful lunch on a bench outside in the sun.

“Shittykawa.”

“Hey! I’m here to help you.” He sat down beside his best friend, opening his bento and stuffing some food in his mouth. Iwaizumi was chewing slowly and waiting to hear more with a disinterested look on his face.

“With?”

“Your love life.”

Oikawa went on a rant about grand gestures, making some very grand gestures himself while explaining, and Iwa could just not figure out why the girls swooned for him when he looked so stupidly invested in his stupid plan for his stupid love life.

“Are you even listening?” Oikawa asked, angrily stuffing another spoonful of food into his mouth.

“Absolutely not. I will not be renting a horse and armour.” And even though that was evidence he had in fact listened, Oikawa was not pleased that his best friend didn’t seem to understand what an expert in love he was. “She’s probably not even interested.”

“Iwa!” Another voice said, making him turn around and almost knock over the water bottle beside his bento.

“That you listen to.” Oikawa mocked from his side, but anything he said went in one ear and out the other once again, when his eyes fell on you.

“Hey,” Hajime greeted you, somewhat awkwardly as you hadn’t chatted much outside the classroom or on the way to the trash containers. “What’s up?”

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” you asked, your words sharing space with a sigh as you had jogged over.

“He’s not,” Oikawa answered, and while that would normally make him annoyed, he just repeated it while still looking at you.

“I’m not.”

“Maybe we can go out for some ice cream? Or a coffee?” you asked further, and it was obvious that you were nervous despite trying to seem confident, not smiling like you usually did. He didn’t answer right away, so you involuntarily went into a word vomit. “I was waiting for you to ask, but then you didn’t and if you’re not interested then we can just forget this, but…” You stopped and looked at him hopefully, one hand on either hip.

“Take him, please.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even need to look to plant his hand over Oikawa’s face before giving you an endearing smile. “I’m interested. Coffee sounds perfect.”

masterlist

/a special thanks to @cottonlemonade for helping me with my writer's block for this one

[chlorinecake]

PDA —⊹ N.RK (西村力) 🐈‍⬛

⭑⭒ 🪞 when you initiate physical touch with your shy boyfriend in public for the first time …

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠… 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ shy boyfriend!riki x fem!reader

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬… 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ fluff, public affection, hugs & kisses

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬… 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝟕𝟓𝟔 -> “Make it quick, alright?”

“Why do you keep laughing like that?” Riki asked with a slight chuckle in his voice while walking beside you, your hand flying to cover you mouth as a way to conceal your persistent giggles.

Your laughter was a sound that always had a way of tickling the ever-present flutter in your boyfriend’s lovesick heart.

“Like what?” you asked back, a warm smile and blush staining your face at his words.

“Like that! ‘Ehehehe’…” he said, mimicking your high pitched giggles in a playful tone, “you sound so goofy... but in a good way, obviously...”

You nudged his shoulder while walking beside him, now watching as he shyly smirked to himself at your sulky reaction.

Currently, you were both on a mission at the local convenience store in search for tasty snacks for your late night movie marathon.

His pushing pace of the shopping cart stalled as you two approached the sweets aisle, a certain thought meddling in your head before you spoke, “Hey… I just thought of something…”

“Mhm? …. Go on, I’m listening,” Riki smiled, nudging your shoulder in a similar way before reaching at the top shelf for a pack of cookies to examine what flavors it came with.

“Well… remember how when we first started dating, you didn’t like it when I tried displaying affection in public?” You started bashfully while fumbling with your fingers, despite how his piercing gaze wasn’t even on you in this moment.

“Yup… I remember,” he nodded, narrowing his eyes to get a better look at the tiny words he read on the package, “what about it?”

“Well… you just look super cute today…”

“Thanks, babe,” He giggled proudly, putting the cookies in the shopping basket and finally making eye contact with you, “tell me more…”

Now you were really starting to feel nervous about this.

“It’s just… the messy look of your hair from us cuddling earlier… and that plain black tee making your pretty little moles stand out even more…”

He almost couldn’t believe how much you were complimenting him in this moment.

“Y’know, if we were home right now, I’d give you the biggest hug and kiss for saying that,” he nearly whispered, giving your cheek a squeeze as you continued.

“That’s what I was just getting to!” You continued with a drawn out voice.

“Uh huh, and what’s that???” He returned in the same mimicky tone, peering closer to your face as if it’d help you dress up sooner.

“Uhm… is it okay if I give you a hug right now?” You pouted, leaning at the end of the basket and batting your eyelashes at him in a cartoonish way.

He chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his hair as his eyes now struggled to meet yours.

Finally looking back up at you, he smiled to himself before waddling over like a penguin, holding his arms out in a snowman manner and tilting his head at you, “Make it quick, alright?”

“Eeekkk!” You squealed, not even hesitating to wrap your arms around his waist as you melted into the comforting feeling of his heart beating against your skin, his warmth being more than enough to make you sigh into the embrace.

“You good now?” He asked, arms still hanging out like a scarecrow as he peered down to see your face snuggled into his chest.

“Mhm, almost,” you replied, taking his extended arms and guiding them to wrap around you, too.

Usually, Riki would’ve felt a bit uncomfortable with you acting this way, despite how behind closed doors, he would always cling to you like a baby sloth.

But something was different today.

You felt those strong arms squeeze around you even tighter, his fingers drawing lazy shapes at your sides before his lips sealed with the crown of your head.

You couldn’t believe he just kissed you…

And in public, at that.

Feeling as though both of your hearts were about to melt at this point, he loosened his hold on you , leaning down to your ear before whispering, “I love you, my little touch-deprived snuggle-bug…”

“I love you, too, meanie.” You replied with a tiny giggle, his heart skipping a few beats at the sound again.

Even though this was only a small step for your relationship, you’re glad Riki found it in himself to reciprocate your affection towards him.

“Alright, alright, let’s go get checked out now,” he said with feigned impatience, letting you ride on the end of the cart as he pushed the basket down the aisle, adoring fits of laughter slipping past both your lips.

tysm for reading this quick lil fic ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆

🪷 𓂃 𓈒 tags: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @ot7sevenlvr

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 9: Off-Limits

Had an idea in mind for this one, then @soupdweller pretty much solidified it for me with this piece of art. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1868

Content warning: non graphic depicitions of death, obsessive behavior if you squint really really hard, reader discresion is advised

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You wish you were taller. Maybe not super tall, and certainly not eight or nine feet tall, but a couple inches you think would be nice. A couple inches could potentially make you feel a bit less, small, in this situation. 

The Daycare Attendant looms over you, that cartoonish grin and dead eyes certainly not helping your nerve. You swallow. You were not going to let him intimidate you, you were not going to let him intimidate you-

"Friend."

"Sun," Your voice is more squeaky than you'd ever like it to be, you clear your throat, "Can I get past you, please?"

His rays click sharply to one side, "I'm afraid not. This area is off-limits."

"I, understand that, but it's also my job as a guard to check that everything is in order-"

He moves suddenly, bending down so that your faces are now inches apart, he tilts his head, "Off. Limits."

You have it in you to get a little annoyed then. You don't really know the Attendant all that well, and from what you've heard from other staff he's usually pretty friendly and even a bit, oblivious. 

This was not that. 

From the moment you'd met he'd been off-putting, a little creepy, and in a way, hostile to you and everything you did. You almost wondered if it was a work hours vs after hours thing, but whenever anyone else was around he had that chipper persona. It was just with you that there was a problem. 

"What's in there that's such an issue?" You ask, trying to peer around him, ignoring the way his 'pupils' seem to shift and watch you, "Last I checked the Plex doesn't have any big secrets. Not any that I as a guard wouldn't know about at least."

It's hard to tell what's back there, mainly because of the near blinding light coming from the doorway to contrast with the darkened space you're currently standing in. And from what you remember, it was all just storage space. One of the bigger ones to your understanding. Actually, how'd the Attendant even get over here? You don't remember there being another entrance to this location. And furthermore, why is he-

"That," He puts a hand on your shoulder, "Is not," You're shoved backward, "Your concern."

Okay, now you're irritated, "For the last time, this is my job. Last I checked, you're the Daycare Attendant, and I'm the security guard. So, you can either move out of my way, or I make you move."

Sun stands upright again, clasping his hands in front of him, "You can try."

"Why do you even care? Why are you even over here?" You point your finger at him now, "You know, you've been honestly kind of a jerk to me since I started, and I'm kind of sick of it. I've never done anything to you!"

A click. You continue. 

"I have tried to be nothing but kind and considerate, I don't stay in your space too long, I wave when I see you, I compliment your art and yet you've been nothing but cold, impassive, and downright rude."

The Attendant is stock still and frankly, you don't care.

"What did I do to deserve this, huh? What made you decide I was going to be the target of your just, straight vitriol toward me?" You throw your hands up, then slap them against your legs. 

Your breathing is heavy now. But at least you've said your peace. 

It's then that the bot laughs, not the reaction you were expecting. For some reason, it sends a chill down your spine.

He takes a step closer, then another. It gives you an idea as he once more bends down to your level. 

"What you've done?" Several rapid clicks of his rays turning to the right, "You want to know what you've done-"

You quickly sidestep him, darting inside, "Maybe some other time! Let's say after my patrol, how's that?"

He makes a loud sound then, which you take as merely mild frustration. Something that in hindsight, was a mistake on your part. You snickered, served him right. You were just trying to do your job.

The storage room was a lot bigger than you were expecting. Grander. Many aisles of boxes piled to the high ceiling on either side of you, along the backwall, and is that a connecting room behind? Geez, why is this area not patrolled more often? Seems like there's a lot of stuff to grab, regardless of there seeming to just be the one entrance. 

You think you've lost Sun, for now anyway. If he catches up to you again it's not like he can do anything except complain. The thought instantly peeves you. 

You're nearing one of the back corners of this front room now, deciding to radio back to the main office, "Hey, working on the last bit of my route, there a reason we don't check this storage room more routinely?"

"We don't.... manpower.... -eople have... -ssing. Wasn't supposed... -your route. -ou should probably-.... -here." Is the response you receive.

You frown, speaking into the device again, "Hey, you're cutting out super bad, could you repeat that?"

All you get is more garbled static as a response. You shrug it off. Must be a dead zone near this room. Annoying, but that's life.

There's a smell in here, you're realizing. And it's not dust, even though there's quite a lot of that. It's decay. 

And the closer you get to that back corner, the stronger is gets. 

Now, a normal person would say fuck it, and call a custodian to deal with whatever poor animal had gotten in here and died. And maybe on a different night, you would have done that. But for some reason, that wasn't the decision you were going to make for tonight.

You round the corner and find-nothing. Just some more boxes. But god that smell is strong now. You're getting ready to turn around and high tail it out of there, when you notice that there's something sticking out from the corner, between where the boxes on either wall collide. 

You don't need to get a closer look to confirm what it is, but you do. 

You can only stare on in complete and utter disbelief. 

Yup. That is indeed a shoe. Attached to a foot, attached to a dead body-a dead security guard's body-which you're 99% sure is what you were smelling. 

The surprising part of all this was exactly how many dead bodies were stuffed into that corner. All in various states of decay. 

"I warned you."

You jump, whipping around to find Sun staring at you. Somehow, the blank look in his eyes is more unreadable than ever before. You swear there's like, a shimmer to optics. Kind of, purplish. But your eyes are probably playing tricks on you.

Your instant reaction is to pray, but you think it's a little late for that. Your second reaction is to beg. 

Your voice wavers as you speak, hands up defensively, "Pl-please don't, don't, hurt me..."

"Hurt you? Oh no no no, sweet thing. I'd never want to hurt you," Sun tuts, his words have a softness you've never witnessed before, "I'll admit I haven't done the best job of showing it, but I do care."

In your shock of it all, you can just stand there, fear dissipating just slightly while blinking a few times, "Excuse me?"

He goes off on his own little tangent, starting to pace as he speaks more to himself than to you, "Believe me, coming to terms with the idea that you of all people would catch my interest wasn't, easy, but I think I've been dealing with it to the best of my ability," He turns to you, hands together, "And now, you've made this entire process that much simpler!"

"...Simpler how?" You're still processing the dead people thing; you aren't even comprehending the idea that Sun likes you. 

"Well, now we can so spend time catching you up to speed," Sun tilts his head, tone eerily cheering as his eyes lift into crescents, "You didn't think you could leave now, did you?"

You bolt.

You try to remember how you got back here, which ways to turn to get back to the front. Given you're kind of freaking out right now, it's not easy.

Sun's behind you, somewhere. Sure you can hear him; those bells were loud on top of the mechanical clinks and whirls his limbs emit as he follows after you. The problem is that he's eight feet tall and you can only run so damn fast. 

You find the entrance. The door's shut.

"Shit. Shit, come on," You fumble for your keycard, shaking hands swiping it through the card reader. 

"Access denied. Access denied. Access denied."

You hear Sun a few aisles over, "Ah, ah, ah. Leaving so soon? After you worked so hard to get in here?"

You curse under your breath as he continues.

"And really, to not bother to listen after I told you to stay is really, quite, rude," From the sounds of it, he's now where you just were, and seemed to be expecting you to still be trying to get out, having the gull to be annoyed about it, "Well there goes that dramatic reveal."

You don't know where you're running but you realize you're going to need to find a destination soon, because you're going to eventually run out of stamina. And Sun will not. 

A hiding place. You need a hiding place. 

"I put in a lot of effort to keep this from you, Starshine," Sun says to the empty space, "Spare you from this thing, that I've become."

There is nowhere to hide in here. It's just the same repeating rows over and over again. Could you maybe circle back? Start climbing? Just something-

"It's not a willing participation, you know. If you understood how this f̴͉̲̲̳̐̑̈́̍̀eė̴̘̽̋l̴͍̣͎̙͎̉̃ṣ̶̪̀, maybe you'd be a bit more sympathetic. Though I suppose that's a big ask."

You need to quiet your breathing, collect yourself a bit. Find another option.

You swallow, trying to calm down as you rest back against the cardboard. It sort of works. 

Until you become acutely aware of the fact that Sun is now silent. 

You strain your ears, eyes flicking back and forth to either end of the aisle. You're closer to the one on your left than the right, but you wonder if it'd be worth the risk to dash to the other side. 

Unfortunately, you don't get the chance.

You take a step away from the makeshift wall, only able to react after the fact as Sun comes from around the corner, the surprise of seeing him making your trip backwards as you spin to face him. 

He catches you, and you notice that the ribbons which usually wrap around his wrists are missing. He tricked you.

"Caught you friend~" He chuckles lightly at the joke. 

You can only look up at him with fear. His pupils are purple, you're sure of it now. He leans in, rays spinning. 

"Maybe next time you'll listen when I say something is off-limits."

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Since y'all liked reading the notes I write for Confused Spirit, here's the one I wrote for this lmao:

You can read the others here, sorry for being late with this! As you can see, she was a biggin'. Thanks for reading!

[vidavalor]

Thank you so much for all your wonderful metas - I enjoy them a great deal. I hope I am not going over old ground here, but I have just finished your defence of Aziraphale's choice (which I agree with 100%) and it has prompted me to ask your opinion of the following:

Having witnessed the Metatron impose upon Aziraphale's good will and impeccable manners and endless sense of obligation with a sodding coffee, WHY did Crowley allow the angel to leave with this wily, manipulative being?

Now, admittedly, Crowley did get to his feet and follow them briefly (after being on the receiving end of that terrifyingly pointed glare from the Metatron) but is immediately distracted by Muriel and thoughts of breakfast with Aziraphale.

This is the same demon who is never still. Always wary, always on guard, always patrolling. Yet, after that ridiculous coffee conversation, after Aziraphale looks to him for direction ("Ummm.."), after that glare, he just waves the angel off on his way for a chinwag.

I actually wrote the scene out so that I could "see" it differently, but it did not help me come to any conclusions.

I would LOVE to know what you think.

Sorry. I wittered on a bit there. 😊

Hi @vernajarrett 💕 Thanks for reading & asking! I'm happy to chat about what I think is going on in the moment Crowley acts like a pod person and Derek Jacobi's character gets all that Big Damn Villain Music in the score. I've got the coffee brewing. Oat milk and a dash hefty jigger of almond syrup? 😜

To answer why Crowley is acting so massively weird during the part of 2.06 that you mentioned, we have to start a little before it with the arrival of the last visitor to the bookshop in S2:

a character played by Derek Jacobi:

When the last new character to arrive at the bookshop door in S2 first arrives, we are down to six other characters in the shop. Five of them-- Aziraphale, Muriel, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael-- are angels and the sixth character-- Crowley-- is a demon. Upon the arrival of Derek Jacobi's character, all five of the angels fail to recognize this person. This is a true shock to us because we think we know who this is, right? That's The Metatron.

We know what The Metatron looks like; we've seen his head quite dramatically huge and in our face on several occasions. We feel qualified to say that if Sir Derek Jacobi shows up it must mean that we're looking at The Metatron. What we tend to ignore is... well, everything else that happens here lol... all of which says we are incorrect about this.

First off? All of this is just (entertainingly) weird: The Metatron is a floating head who thinks himself above humanity but he's here now in a body on Whickber Street. He abhors food but he's stopped to get a coffee at the shop and have a chat with Nina. We first spotted him outside by Mrs. Sandwich in line-- is there a more incongruous place you would expect to see The Metatron than that? lol. It makes it very engaging to watch but these are also the first clues to suggest that something really odd is afoot here and when this character goes inside the bookshop, we really get that sense hammered home by the fact that this being we thought we had correctly identified really easily is unrecognizable-- to not one, not two, but five characters on our show, all of whom should instantly know exactly who this person is.

It's at this point that I'll mention that we technically still do not know who plays Satan on Good Omens. The first time he appears, he possesses Crowley by speaking to him using the voice of Freddie Mercury-- so, Satan is being played by a voice actor doing Satan-as-Freddie-Mercury. The second time he appears-- in 1.06-- he there for Adam, who is eleven years old at the time. Satan appears as a gigantic, cartoonish, cliched-red-with-horns-and-hoofs monster, voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch. It is completely at odds with how GO usually does its more horrific and frightening elements. You could argue that Satan appears this way in 1.06 because it's how he would appear to Adam-- to an eleven year old boy. Everyone sees Satan as Adam sees Satan when Satan comes for Adam. A parallel to that would then be the arrival of the character played by Derek Jacobi in 2.06.

Why can't these five angels identify the person who just arrived?

It has to be because they're angels. It's the only thing Aziraphale, Michael, Uriel, Muriel and Saraqael all have in common.

They can't recognize the being at the door because they're angels; meaning: they're not familiars of The Devil.

This is not The Metatron. This is Satan:

You might notice that one of the angels-- Saraqael-- eventually catches on. What they do is another huge clue to who this is. If Saraqael's realization was that this must be The Metatron, they would have spoken up and said that they recognized him, if only to suck up to the boss. But they do not so that is not their realization...

Instead, they don't say a word. They look afraid, look Up, fold their hands together and start to pray. Since this being is obviously one of them and not human-- based on what he said to Michael upon his arrival-- Saraqael has figured out that if they, Michael, Uriel, Muriel and Aziraphale all cannot recognize him, it has to be because this is Satan.

Saraqael doesn't tell anyone else what they've figured out. They just start praying in case it's their number that's up today. The irony of all of this, of course, is that three of these angels who can't recognize the face of evil-- Michael, Uriel and Saraqael-- are honestly pretty garbage people themselves and also that there's not much of a difference in level of evil between The Metatron and Satan. But, technically, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael are angels, just as Muriel and Aziraphale are angels. All it really means in this case, though, is that they've never been thrown to Hell and, because of that fact, they cannot recognize Satan. (It also helps to illustrate how being cast to Hell is political and doesn't really have much to do with whether or not you're a terrible person. It's just who has gotten caught while getting in The Metatron's way.)

Demons can recognize Satan, though. The problem is that they also can be possessed by Satan and influenced into not even knowing he's there... which is what starts happening to Crowley upon the arrival of Satan in the bookshop.

Satan can make Crowley's words sound natural and of Crowley's own volition-- and then make it so that Crowley doesn't even remember saying them. This is why Crowley is acting weird when "The Metatron" is in the same room with him in 2.06.

We've seen something like this a bit when Crowley put Sister Mary in a trance so he and Aziraphale could ask her questions back in S1. Sister Mary really looked like she was in a trance and that's because it wasn't really necessary for either Aziraphale or Crowley to instruct her to act any differently. They were the only other ones around and they weren't manipulating Sister Mary's behavior in an attempt to use her to influence other people-- they were only seeking information from her. How she acted when giving them that information wasn't something they were terribly concerned with because it didn't really matter.

When they had all the information they thought she possessed, Aziraphale brought her out of the trance by telling her that she was now awake and had just had a dream of whatever she liked best. As he and Crowley are walking away, we see Sister Mary seem like she just woke up a bit from actual sleep and she looks calm and refreshed-- like she really did just have a dream of whatever she likes best.

In that moment, Sister Mary is unconcerned with the fact that such a thought is completely incongruous with the fact that she is standing, dressed in work clothes, in the hallway of her workplace. She does not remember the two people who were just there asking her questions or what they asked her. She believes she was dreaming because that is what Aziraphale told her to believe had happened.

The point is that while Sister Mary didn't know she had been influenced like this and could not remember what had happened while she was being influenced, the effects of it remained a little afterwards, as she continued to believe what it was she was told while under the influence. Aziraphale's instructions to her were comparatively pretty innocent-- he told her she had a great dream so she continued to believe that to be true. Satan in 2.06, on the other hand, is not telling Crowley that he just had a dream of whatever he likes best.

Satan possesses Crowley from the start of the scene, accounting for Crowley's quiet and stillness in the early moments of it. He not only tells Crowley to identify him as The Metatron to Aziraphale and the other angels but he makes Crowley believe that he is The Metatron for real. He tells him to make it sound natural when he tells the angels who he is so that they will believe it. That's why Crowley doesn't sound like he's in a trance, the way that Sister Mary did in S1.

I want to throw in here something else, too, that's kind of a foreshadowing/paralleling scene to this as well that comes a couple of episodes prior to this one we're talking about and that is... whatever the fuck exactly was happening to Gabriel in the "tempest" scene.

For the record, I do not believe that it was Satan possessing Gabriel in that scene. I actually think it's some witch-related stuff--I swear the voice speaking with him is Anathema-- but I bring it up even though we don't know what this is totally all about yet because it has some paralleling things that we can already see are relevant.

First off? Where Gabriel is when this happens:

He's sitting in Aziraphale's desk chair. I'm not trying to say the chair itself is spooky (though it is as a result of all of this? lol) so much as I'm saying that both Gabriel and Crowley acting weird and taken over while sitting in Aziraphale's desk chair (which is very much symbolizing Aziraphale) is one of the many things reinforcing that Aziraphale is falling because here are these two characters who parallel him the most-- the two, other most important characters in the show, arguably, and the two also living in the bookshop in S2-- and they're both falling victim to darkness while sitting in his chair.

But what I really want to point out here is what happens to Jim after his possession. Watch Gabriel's eyes at the end here:

There are a few seconds more as well in the show when his eyes resettle on Crowley. Gabriel disappears entirely while he's being possessed. He is speaking words that Crowley can hear and that Crowley recognizes as coming from Gabriel's voice... but when Gabriel blinks back into the room and looks at Crowley, he has no idea what just happened.

He doesn't remember what he just said. He isn't aware of the fact that someone was just possessing him. He feels a little disoriented and anxious-- which is also sort of Jim's default state in S2-- but what we and Crowley witnessed him saying? He has no idea about that. Shax shows up outside the bookshop and causes a distraction that keeps us and Crowley and Gabriel from sorting all of this out until S3 but Gabriel's expressions on the other side of his possession indicate that he has no idea where he just was mentally, what he just said or did, or that someone was in his mind. This is another scene emphasizing this aspect of possession on Good Omens-- no matter who is doing the possessing. The exact same effects of possession is what is happening to Crowley in 2.06.

So, Satan uses Crowley to identify him to the others as The Metatron and makes him believe that he is The Metatron to cover up the fact that he's been in his mind. Crowley has no idea that Satan has been in the bookshop. The moment this becomes clear, though, is the first one you mentioned in your ask, which is when Crowley really confirms for us exactly who Derek Jacobi is playing by doing something so wildly out of character that it's almost impossible to justify without considering the idea that he's being possessed:

encouraging Aziraphale to go somewhere alone with who he believes to be The Metatron.

Next time you're watching this scene-- and GO, in general-- look for where the music stops altogether. There are moments in GO when the score just ceases to exist entirely for a period of time so that we can hear the words that are being said without any distractions. I've found that scenes where this is happening are usually pretty pivotal, either from a wordplay perspective or a plot perspective or, often, both. There is basically no music in the whole scene in which "The Metatron" appears to have arrived at the bookshop.

The score disappears upon "The Metatron's" arrival and it only returns with that big bit of organ-y "DUN DUN DUNNN" villain music right at a pivotal point in the scene you're talking about:

The music comes back at exactly the moment that the camera holds on "The Metatron" as he is staring at Crowley. Why here?

They really, really want you to notice this glare that this person played by Derek Jacobi is leveling at Crowley. We already don't trust this character if he is The Metatron and he's been nothing but a dick since he arrived, really-- he used "demon" to refer to Crowley, he called Muriel "dim" (he can rot for that alone), and he was a total prick to Michael and Uriel. As awful as they are, no one should be spoken to like that. No one-- including most of the audience-- sees this as being extra-villain-y because this is just how The Metatron is so it's expected behavior from who we might think this character is.

So, to show us who this really is, they can't just rely on us noticing that he's in a dark coat and tie (why is he in Hell colors?!) or that he brought along a temptation coffee or that he uses language from Mary Poppins ("spit spot") when speaking to the angels. All those are clues, for sure, but the moment the music comes back is when the show is trying to give us the biggest of the clues to who this really is-- when the scene is structured to show us that he is attacking Crowley.

Because this isn't actually The Metatron glaring at Crowley; it is Satan giving Crowley instructions to stay put.

It's why Crowley doesn't follow them afterwards and continues to believe that The Metatron was who was in the bookshop-- even as Aziraphale has figured out who it really is. Look at Aziraphale's response here and you'll see that this is one of the scenes that suggests he is pretty damn sure this is not The Metatron:

Aziraphale's head whips over to "The Metatron" in response to what Crowley said because he knows what the only explanation for that response out of Crowley is. If you are looking at "The Metatron" while Aziraphale is still turning his head, you can see that he's still staring at Crowley because he was instructing him to tell Aziraphale to go and to not come with them. Satan pastes on a fake as fuck smile when Aziraphale looks at him but it's actually too late-- Aziraphale already knows what's going on. He just doesn't want Satan to know he knows.

Aziraphale knows that there's no way in the universe that Crowley-- who was so worried about danger yesterday that he escorted him to, like, Arnold's Music Shop and Mrs. Cheng's restaurant lol-- would ever just chill in the desk chair while Aziraphale went somewhere alone with The Metatron.

Ever.

The Big Damn Villain Music shows up after "The Metatron"'s fake smile to Aziraphale. It is in the exact moment that he looks at Crowley again and finishes the instructions he was giving before Aziraphale turned his head. It's because this is one of the biggest clues to this character's identity-- who can do this to Crowley? Satan.

Based on the scenes that follow, Satan here is telling Crowley something like:

You will not follow us. He will be back soon. Everything is fine. I was never here; I am The Metatron. Aziraphale is not in any danger. Stay where you are.

This scene-- the one highlighted by the music-- where Satan is silently giving Crowley directions is the one most like the time we see Satan possess Crowley in 1.01. It has a similar effect for a moment, which is probably why the music kicks in here as it's the best way to remind the audience of who can do this to Crowley and how.

In that 1.01 moment, there was no one else around and Satan was not possessing Crowley for the purposes of having him speak to influence someone else's behavior. Since he did not need Crowley to speak in the scene, Crowley does not. He is silent and still while Satan speaks in his mind and gives him instructions. We see that Satan can take such full control over Crowley that Crowley is trapped within himself. He can't speak, he can't scream, he can't move-- so, he can't drive the car and his connection to the car is shattered to a point that The Bentley is almost in a head-on collision with a truck. This is our introduction to the level of possession that Satan has over him-- all contrasted with the fact that Crowley is supposed to be on a date with Aziraphale in the sushi restaurant. This is all coming back around in 2.06.

Its return is also foreshadowed by this Shax bit during the bookshop attack... Crowley missing when he's supposed to be safe with Aziraphale and Aziraphale worried that Satan has Crowley because the demons are circling and Shax... who exists to get inside people's heads a bit... as if echoing Aziraphale's thoughts, says:

Shall we send up the sushi?

After all... do we really think that a season that spent all that time on whether or not actual demons (representing a person's inner demons) were going to be able to get into the bookshop (symbolically, Aziraphale, and Crowley & Aziraphale) is going to let those demons into the bookshop and then just... decide Satan is on vacation for the week? Or do we think that it's not coincidental that the offer Aziraphale is presented with also happens to be the one thing in the entire Universe that could ever tempt him to Hell?

Hmm... 😉

Anyway, back for a moment to the scene in 2.06 when Satan influences Crowley into staying behind and telling Aziraphale to go with "The Metatron"... The undersung thing in this scene, imho, is Aziraphale's reaction.

If Aziraphale really believed this to be The Metatron with 100% certainty, he could have responded to what Satan just made Crowley say by pressing this idea of them going for "The Metatron's" proposed stroll. He could have said aloud to Crowley: "why don't you come with us?" or he could have told The Metatron that he didn't want to go for a walk and why didn't they just sit here in the bookshop instead and anything The Metatron wanted to say to him, he could say to him and Crowley together? If Aziraphale really completely believed that this was The Metatron, he could have-- and would have-- tried either of those things or something like them in response to what Satan made Crowley say.

Instead, what does Aziraphale do?

He *immediately* starts for the bookshop door. Why?

Because he knows that Crowley is not speaking of his own free will and that the person he identified as The Metatron is, in all likelihood, actually Satan. Aziraphale immediately starts for the door because Satan will have to follow him out, since he was the one who proposed this stroll. Aziraphale abandons the idea of Crowley coming with them when he sees that Crowley is being harmed. Instead, he goes alone with Satan, immediately luring him out of the shop so as to get him away from Crowley.

He leaves the bookshop with Satan to protect Crowley. It also foreshadows the fact that he's going to fall over a temptation that is related to Crowley's safety.

Look at how Aziraphale looks back to make sure that Satan is following him and quickly... how nervous and shaky he looks. He would be nervous if this were The Metatron, sure, yes, absolutely. In this moment, though, he's just living one of his worst nightmares-- the bookshop that he built that protects Crowley has been overrun and Crowley has been harmed right there in front of him.

This is their house. It's their living room, where Crowley's lounged for thousands of nights. Crowley is in Aziraphale's own desk chair. This is supposed to be the place where they both feel safe but now there is no safe space so Aziraphale is doing the best he can in the moment by just responding intuitively and protectively by saying with his actions: Get away from him. Follow me. You can have me. Leave him alone.

So, they go out, right? What happens next but the other scene you mentioned in your ask: Crowley and Muriel.

Crowley gets up out of the chair basically the second Satan and Aziraphale are no longer in the shop because Satan's hold on him in that moment is gone and he probably unconsciously needs to move, since Satan was literally not letting him get out of the chair. This is where the weird behavior gets even more weird-- Crowley doesn't follow them. He literally watches from within the shop through the window for a second as Aziraphale leads "The Metatron" over to Marguerite's. Why doesn't he go after them? Because Satan told him to stay in the shop. Just like with Sister Mary believing she had been dreaming, what Crowley has been influenced by Satan into doing lingers with him gone, since he was instructed by Satan to stay in the shop until Aziraphale gets back.

Crowley paces a little circle like a caged tiger, going back further *into* the bookshop-- a totally normal response to his partner going for coffee alone with a murderous psychopath. He mutters to himself:

"They'll be back soon."

WHAT. THE...? How is there anybody who thinks this behavior is normal at this point?

Crowley turns around and Muriel is there. He jumps a bit, having forgotten they were still in the shop. So did the audience, honestly. This may or may not be significant in S3. Muriel being there in the background, blending into the walls during this scene also means that Muriel is now maybe the only character who could actually tell Crowley what happened during the scenes we have been talking about here because he doesn't remember anything involving what he said.

If you were to ask Crowley at any point from the time "The Metatron" and Aziraphale leave the shop on in S2 who identified "The Metatron", he couldn't tell you. If you were to tell him he told Aziraphale to go with "The Metatron", he would not remember doing that. He has as much memory of the words he spoke in the scene with "The Metatron" as Gabriel does of his "there will come a tempest" moment-- which is to say, none.

Crowley knows that Aziraphale has gone with The Metatron and that they will be back soon. He doesn't know how that came to pass and he has been rendered by Satan incapable of leaving the shop or considering the idea that he should follow them.

If the being at the door is Satan and if Aziraphale's fall is where we left the end of 2.06, Aziraphale could lose his memory, at least for a time, which means that the only character who was a reliable witness to Satan influencing Crowley in this scene is Muriel. One purpose of having them in the shop during these moments from a writing standpoint-- as opposed to sending them over to Nina's coffee shop earlier-- might be to set up a character in S3 who can tell Crowley what it was that actually happened here. (Lucky Muriel lol.)

As you pointed out, Crowley starts speaking to Muriel casually, as if nothing is going wrong. He tells Muriel that they should leave the shop, too, and Muriel says:

The Metatron-- really: Satan-- did tell Muriel to wait in the shop but he did so just by pretending to be The Metatron. While there's no possession there with Muriel, Muriel's line to Crowley is also emphasizing what actually just happened to Crowley himself to the audience. "The Metatron" has told them both to wait in the shop-- so, they are waiting in the shop. They're both following directions they've been influenced in different ways to follow. By Muriel saying that they've been told to wait-- even if they were told in a different way than Crowley was-- it suggests that following a directive is also the reason why Crowley himself is still in the shop.

Crowley's response to Muriel, though, makes him sound like he's back to himself-- and, in several ways, he is. He is remaining in the shop because of the influence but he is not currently under an active influence so he can say what it is that he chooses to say. When he's a little sarcastic with Muriel, it sounds like his normal speech because it is. What he doesn't understand is that he's been influenced to do the same thing Muriel has been-- to wait there in the shop-- just against his will, as opposed to Muriel's conscious decision to follow the directive.

Here's where we have to consider Crowley's audience when we talk about what he says next. Crowley likes Muriel; of all the angels not named Aziraphale that he's met, Muriel's definitely top of the list. That said... Muriel is still an angel who is desperate to please The Metatron, as they just proved to him again in this scene by being excited to have been singled out to assist who they believe to be The Metatron. Muriel whole thing is that they're an Inspector Constable; they are literally the (supernatural) police and Crowley wisely doesn't trust the police.

Crowley has no doubt that, after Muriel does leave the shop, that they'd tell The Metatron anything he said. Crowley actually does believe that Aziraphale is in big trouble because he doesn't trust The Metatron-- he's just been rendered incapable of realizing that he's staying in the bookshop because he's been instructed to do so by Satan, who is really the person with Aziraphale in that moment. As a result, Crowley's mind has jumped to a plan for when Aziraphale comes back from coffee with whom Crowley believes is The Metatron.

Crowley has no doubt that Aziraphale will come back because he's been influenced to believe this to be true, which is why he keeps saying "they will be back soon" and "when Aziraphale does come back", instead of being terrified that Aziraphale will not come back at all, which is what he normally would have been if Aziraphale were alone with The Metatron. It is, in this case, going to be true that Aziraphale returns because that is part of Satan's plan and one of the reasons why he influenced Crowley into believing so.

So, anyway, Crowley thinks the big threat is The Metatron potentially erasing Aziraphale into non-existence by deleting him from The Book of Life. This isn't actually a thing, as Crowley told Beez back early on in the season, but Beez, being horrified to realize that they might have been manipulated by something they themselves and Crowley made up ages ago, doubled down out of embarrassment on it being real and led Crowley to believe in its existence as a result. Crowley has spent the season terrified that Aziraphale is going to be made to have never existed. The plan he's cooking up to save Aziraphale from that fate-- which is what he thinks is going on-- is not one he wants to share with the police. It's not one he's going to say aloud in front of Muriel because that might as well be saying it to The Metatron, as far as Crowley is concerned. We won't actually hear Crowley's plan until he delivers it to Aziraphale in coded speech in The Disaster Kiss Scene and by that point, everything is going, um, really, really badly.

(It's the reason why there's no music in that moment so you can literally hear the words echo around the room when Crowley starts in on it and basically shouts the "THIS PLANET" part at Aziraphale but that's straying from the scenes you asked about so *focuses* 😊)

So, Crowley instead says what he'd really, truly, honestly love to be doing for the rest of the morning and he does so in the way that he and Aziraphale do when someone who doesn't speak their language is around and annoying them-- he says it in Ineffable Husbands Speak to amuse himself and, probably, to amuse Aziraphale, whom he plans on telling later. (He'll do this again a few minutes later, when Maggie is ticking him off by saying he and Aziraphale don't talk.)

Crowley says:

Does Crowley want a little Us Time with Aziraphale when he comes back? Does he want to go with him to have an extremely alcoholic breakfast at The Ritz? (Ineffable Husbands Speak for boozy brunch and sex after too long without it?) Yes. Eventually. But he knows there's very dangerous trouble to be dealt with first.

Crowley says that because he wants Muriel to think that he is just preoccupied with thoughts of Aziraphale and breakfast-- because that's what he wants The Metatron to think and he knows Muriel will tell The Metatron what it is that he said.

Crowley wants The Metatron to think he doesn't have a plan.

But, really, when we have known Crowley to not have a plan? 😊

The problem is that it's a plan for the wrong scenario.

It's not The Book of Life that's happening; it's Aziraphale's fall.

It's not The Metatron at the door; it's Satan.

This is almost the entire communication mess of That Disaster Kiss Scene. They're being watched and whatever the fuck happened to Crowley, he can't see that freezing time to speak openly is an option so he and Aziraphale are boxed into trying to each convey what they think is happening and their plans to stop it using their cant vocabulary.

The ironic thing is that while they-- like the audience lol-- have two different ideas of who the being watching them is and what the threat is as a result, they actually both have almost exactly the same plan... with one, key, very romantic difference.

But that's another meta. 😜

In the meantime, I'll just leave you with a reminder of what "The Metatron" said in a moment when Crowley was still in the room:

[sugar-crash]

🏎️Turbo (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader🏁

(Drunk Turbo Edition!)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Request here! Oh this loser… He just screams Oingo Boingo vibes, which is a bit ironic considering they were very popular during the 80s… I feel like I’ve probably already said this but I don’t care if I did or did not you know? I have a nasty habit of repetition lol)

- Who knows if alcohol (I believe Tappers sells Root Beer cause… Kids arcade game) or even cigarettes exist for the arcade members, but it’s fun to think about.

- I for one think him getting drunk is kinda rare, mostly because I think smoking and being self-absorbed among other things are his main way of coping with his emotions over drinking… Though he isn’t exactly against it.

- When he finally lets himself let loose and drinks at Tapper's… He drinks. Getting drunk as a goddamn skunk, like how Fix-It Felix chugged it in the… Sequel that must not be named, as witty as the name is. A real waste of a good movie name ngl.

- ANYWAYSSSS, I think he either somehow miraculously manages to find his way to you or you find him after one of your… Dare I say, friends?? Mutuals??? Complain about him being a drunk little shit and killing the mood.

- Honestly I think he flip flops from mean drunk to emotional drunk, really empathizing the turmoil that goes on in that gold ball shaped head of his.

- Going from wanting your comfort to insulting you, his speech is even more slurred than it usually is as he clutches onto you…. Freak.

- He’s so pathetic in that state, which is partly the reason why he doesn’t drink that much, against his whole thing of not being perceived as vulnerable keeping him from relying upon you like that.

- That reflects in his insults towards you as one might assume, insults elementary on the surface but tells you what’s going on in that fuzzy pea brain of his a lot more than it usually does.

- Alcohol really dumbs him down for a bit, too focused on standing up or the bug that’s clinging to the side of the wall to really string his thoughts together more concisely as words just pour out of his mouth if you poke and prod him just enough.

- Something tells me he does do the stupid ass cartoonish drunk hiccups when he’s smashed just enough… Why not? He has a bit of cartoonish whimsy to him.

- The type to try to get into a bar fight if he gets offended by some minuscule thing someone did or said, wrangling him is lot harder than one would think.

- Overall it’s usually not a great experience for any party though he does have his extremely rare moments of chilling the fuck out while drunk, mostly when he’s only sort of buzzed and still has some of his wits while being at home.

- Again I can see him being more clingy, not in a “Hehe I just like holding them💫💫🧚” but in a “Oh fuck I think I’m going to fall HELP—” Kind of way, he’s not the most graceful by any means.

- Like definitely as tripped over his shoelaces and makes you swear to keep that to yourself when he’s sober and embarrassed as all fuck when he’s able to recall the foolishness he partook in.

- Oh and keep him away from his kart— You think he’s a menace behind the wheel sober?? He is an absolute scrounge when he’s drunk, that one meme personified— Has definitely attempted to drive his kart into the Game Central Station before you put a stop to it much to his drunken annoyance.

- In a way, he was always wild, ‘liquid courage’ was just a more bitter way for that to be less constrained under his urge to maintain a powerful main character persona, makes him more honest but more incoherent.

- Rambling about what anything that comes to mind as he grips onto you as you lead him to Turbo Time to try to get him to wind down and hopefully sober up before opening time.

- Honestly, I think the more drunk he gets the more emotional side of his drunkenness comes out other than the usual slurred snarky remark he makes towards someone as they simply walk past him. Like I said he’s a little shit.

- A little attention-monopolizing hobgoblin who just so happened to get more than he should’ve drank.

- Hungover Turbo is a kind of creature you don’t want to mess with… Mean as a mother fucker, you just know his fellow racers taste his even uncaring cruelty as he fights back a migraine.

(. -. .. --. -- .- - .. -.-./.-. ..- ... .... . -../.-. . -.-. -.- .-.. . ... .../--- -... ... . ... ... .. ...- ./.-. .- -... .. -..)

[writeawaythepain]

That Funny Feeling

Jimmy Solidarity x (gn!reader)

…Hey! I’m not dead! And I finally have the urge to write again! Hope you enjoy my spiral into a new fandom!

tw: self-deprecating thoughts, angst (don’t worry there’s a fluff at the end)

Word count: 1.7k

Prompts:

“You are worthy of love and friends and respect.”

"why do you care!" "because i’m in love with you!"

Summary:

You walk in on Jimmy having beef with a fence post, and though you're not really surprised, you wonder if he’s dealing with more pain than just that of his injured foot. Includes you giving the poor guy a much needed hug, and a slip-up that lets him in on how much you really care about him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You don’t think you’ve ever really seen Jimmy upset…not really. He never minded being the butt of any joke, laughing along at any jab or insult. He didn’t mind if people made fun of him as long as it made someone laugh at the end. He was selfless like that. You were always a little bit jealous of his resilience, and maybe that’s why you always thought of him as almost…invincible.

So, when one day you came to check up on how the Sheriff’s new building was going, you were surprised to see that barely any progress had been done. It actually…seemed like he’d torn parts of it down. You approached slowly, taking in the half done walls and foundation, a door frame without a door, and started to look for him. 

Before you can even call out to him, though, you see the back of a familiar blonde cowboy. A cowboy who was seemingly talking to himself. “No- come on Jim! You know you can do better at this- you just gotta… just gotta…” He stops, clenching his fists and yelling out in frustration. “It’s not that hard!” He emphasizes the last word by kicking a rickety fence post, but it must have been sturdier than he expected because he instantly flinched back, grabbing his foot and crying out in pain.

The whole sight was almost cartoonish, with him wearing his cowboy hat and boots, so you couldn’t help but snicker even as you reached out your hand in concern. “Oh my god Jimmy, are you ok?” You can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face, but it wavers slightly as you approach him and notice…are those tears in his eyes? He quickly wipes his face, replacing his frustrated look with an excited smile. 

“Oh hi! I didn’t even see you there! Me and this fence post are having beef, actually- See, it won’t do what I tell it to, and make my stuff look good so I was reminding ‘em who's in charge round here!” He laughs a little as he says it, his smile so bright you're inclined to believe him…it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes though, and you still wonder if the kick hurt him more than he was letting on.

“Yea, you really showed him!” You try to mirror his energy, shaking off some of your worries as he replies in his usual chipper tone.

“Yea I did!” He laughs but then slightly turns away from you. “Listen uh…you know I always love having you around. You’re welcome anytime! But uh…I really have a- a thing I gotta do and…” Your smile drops as you see him wince a little as he puts his weight on the foot he ‘beat up’ the fence post with.

“Hey Jimmy, is your foot ok?” You walk up to him, concerned. “Maybe you should sit down-“

“Nah I’m fine…probably anyway.” He laughs like it’s a joke, but when you look at him you're not smiling.

“You're limping. You might not have broken anything but- here, sit down.” You gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s really nothing, I’m just being an idiot...” He moves away from your touch, shaking it off and puffing up his chest a little. He tries to shoot you a smile again, but it did little to aid your concerns.

“Just, let me take a look at it? Maybe I can help-“ You start, a little frustrated at his stubbornness.

“But I don’t need help! I can take care of it myself! I just- I just stubbed my toe. I’ll be fine!” You sigh, giving him a weird look, but deciding not to push it.

“…why were you beefing with the fence post anyway…did it kill your grandma?” You joke, hoping to fix the awkward air that had somehow come between the two of you. It’s weird, you’d never felt awkward talking with him before.

Instead of responding, Jimmy just turned towards his half finished building. And stood there. After a while he finally spoke. “Listen I’m, kinda busy right now. Maybe you can come back another time?” …Alright that’s it-

“Ok Jimmy, what is up with you? I came here to see your build, which looks less finished than when I saw it days ago may I add, and instead I see you kicking a fence post, getting defensive when I try to help, and now you don’t even laugh at my Trolls joke? …ok maybe it's an old meme but still-“ You chuckle, still kind of hoping he’d just turn around and start acting normal again. You’ve never seen him act like this before.

All he did was stand there…and as the silence grew longer you couldn’t help but start to get worried. “Gosh…I really am useless.” He finally says.

You almost roll your eyes, “Your not useless Jim-“ 

“Yes- yes I am!” He says it so firmly you freeze. You’ve never heard him raise his voice like that before. 

“I can’t build, I can’t fight, I can’t even be the guy who smiles all the time! I’m- I’m basically worthl-“ He stops himself. “…and I don’t know why I’m telling you this- I’m sorry.“ You're so surprised by his words you don’t even know what to say. “I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just-“ He takes his hat off of his head and grips it in his hands. “It’s so stupid- I’m so stupid. It shouldn’t be this hard for me to just-“ His grip on the hat tightens.

“…Jimmy, you are not worthless. You don’t have to smile all the time to be the brightest ray of sunshine I know. You could probably make me see the silver lining of getting stabbed for god's sake-“ You almost laugh at your own words, hoping it would get through to him. “You are worthy of love and friends and respect. And I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough.” You walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He slowly spins around, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I’m just being a baby-”

“No, no you're not. It’s ok to- to feel bad sometimes.” You interrupt gently before he can insult himself again.

“Why- why do you even care?” His voice wavers, and now you can see the tears streaming out of his eyes. 

“Because I love you…you idiot.” Jimmy freezes, and even you are a little surprised at your own words, but it’s true. “People care about you- I care about you! I don't care that you can’t build giant castles or fight dragons, or that you get mad or sad sometimes-“ Your rambling a bit, trying to recover from the bombshell you just dropped. Jimmy was just staring at you, eyes wide. 

“…you…love me? Like…love, love me?!” He says slowly, not really paying attention to anything else you said after.

“I- this is probably not the best time to just- but, yea. I really do.” You can’t help but look down as you admit it, and when you look back up at him he’s crying all over again. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

He steps forward and wraps you in a hug, sobbing into your shoulder. You hug him back, rubbing his back and giving him some words of encouragement. Slowly his sobs get quieter, and eventually he pulls away from the hug.

“Um…” He sniffs. “I know I probably look like a mess right now-“

“Just a little.” You tease gently, wiping a stray tear off of his face.

“Right- but um…I love you too. Just so you know.” He avoids your eyes as he says it, then looks directly into them, gauging your reaction, as if to ensure this wasn’t all a joke.

“Like…?” You start.

“Yea…like that.” He gently bumps his forehead against yours, his regular confident smile returning to his face. “I cannot believe you fell for my Sheriff rizz.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Don’t- don’t say rizz-” You try to suppress a giggle, pretending to be upset. “Great, now you ruined the moment.”

His bravado instantly drops, “Wait. No wait I didn’t mean to-” You shut him up by yanking his neckerchief and planting a kiss on his cheek. “To…to…” His face slowly reddens as his brain catches up to his speeding heart.

“Fixed it.” You say simply, chuckling softly as your Sheriff still reboots. “I think I’m the one with the rizz~” You laugh.

“Yea, no I see how that ruins the moment.” You laugh even harder at his reaction, and he can’t help but join in. After a few moments, you end up gazing into his bright hazel eyes.

“You know you can always talk to me when you're feeling upset.” You say seriously, taking one of his hands with both of your own. “Don’t just…no one should be alone when they're feeling like that.”

“...I know…You're right, as always.” He smiles appreciatively, grabbing one of your hands with his free one. You both stand there, swaying your interlocked hands gently back and forth, just enjoying the other's company.

“You know, when you're feeling up to it, why don’t I help you finish this…” You look over the half finished building, realizing you had no idea what it was actually supposed to be.

“Barn. It’s – ” he sighs, as if even bringing it up makes him feel tired all over again, “ – ‘supposed to be a barn.” 

“Barn! Right, and we could even ask Joel to help.” His eyes widen.

“No! You can’t tell him- Oh my god I’d never hear the end of it!” You laugh at the urgency in his voice.

“Ok! Ok. It’ll just be me. I’ll help you…” You let go of his hands and instead interlock your fingers behind his neck. “It’ll be our little secret.” He gazes into your eyes with a look only comparable to a lovesick puppy.

“Gosh I really wanna kiss you right now-” He lets out with a whisper, and then it’s your turn to get a little flustered.

“Well…then kiss me cowboy.” You lean in and he meets you halfway, and the kiss is just as sweet as the blonde Sheriff you share it with.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[mavcancees]

drawing realism is pretty funny because you start hyperanalizing your subjects' traits and find out fun details about them that you don't perceive at first (or originally thought of them differently)

anyways here a list of dnf anatomy details that i've collected through intense studying:

1. dream does not have a large jawline actually. his top one is just completely straight, and his bottom one has no side downward curve. usually human skulls will have the top jaw sit at about a 30° angle, but his is just flat. it makes his bottom jaw look a lot more out. this carries all the way up to his forehead too. his bottom jaw is also almost completely straight from the mandibular angle to the chin.

2. george has THE HIGHEST CHEEKBONES. he just has an equally wide mandibular angle (meaning, his jaw doesn't taper in as much), so it doesn't look like it until you compare his cheeks to his side brow bones

3. george also has very long lips horizontally, and a very angular chin, which gives him this constant almost pouty look, so when he smiles he just has a beautiful lip shape

4. dream has a very consistent beard. no splotchiness whatsoever.

5. he also has a mole immediately below his jawline on his right side (or the side of the ear that is not pierced)

6. one of george's eyebrows is significantly taller than the other one on the arch. the start of his eyebrows are also fairly thin and sit pretty low. (he is not escaping the eyebrow plucking/threading allegations imo, they are so incredibly clean)

7. dream's nose looks almost cartoonish from the side from how soft the curve is. from the front, the tip sits pretty low compared to his nostrils

8. george's is a little more hooked AT THE END (he does not have full hooked nose, his bridge is very inwards on the top half), and from the front the tip and nostrils sit at the same height. it makes it look kind of like a tiny wide triangle

9. they both have very long cupid's bows, george a bit more than dream (see late point 8)

10. "dream is puppy coded" and it's because his eyelids are diagonal in the same way puppies have diagonal eye curves ! he very literally has dog eyes

11. dream's middle lashes are very long, and they get darker as you go out. george's are long all around and VERY full. they both have pretty crazy bottom lashes

12. i am once again highlight george's bottom lip. what a beautiful man

13. cameras need to stop hatecriming dream's freckles. set them free. (they mostly sit directly under his eyes next to his nose. he also has some on his chin, it's very charming)

14. gnf comes from the miranda cosgrove school of fake wasians. having deepset eyes, extremely hooded eyes and consistent, very deep aegyo sal will do that to you. (i say this as an asian with much love). don't be scared to draw his eyes properly, he's not beating the wasian allegations, you're allowed to post your "concerningly asian looking" gnf fanart (whoever says this to you send them to me i will beat them up). that's just how he looks. just make sure his nose is right and you're good 👍

15. dream is a LOT larger than what you think in the horizontal axis. door width. huge forearms. his waist is just "small" (average male waist size). don't let it deceive you

that's all for now i'll reblog with more as i find them have fun arting

[pictureinme]

kinktober xii. SEMI-PUBLIC - neil lewis

word count: ~900 tags: blow-jobs, car sex, somewhat subby neil as per usual, raisinet propaganda, also pushing my opinion of a film onto y'all masterlist | ao3

“Got the snacks ready?” Neil pulls into the parking space, trailers still playing on the gigantic drive-in screen.

You nod, grinning widely, “Yup, we got some Sno-Caps, Twizzlers, Milk Duds… and Raisinets!”

His face contorted to one of disgust, “Jesus, you actually like Raisinets? I thought that was just for like, old people, or whatever.”

“Man, come on, they’re really good!” You pout, and push one against his tightly closed lips, “Just try one, for me?”

Shaking his head quickly, Neil leans as far away as he can from you, still being in the seat next to you. He speaks through his closed lips to the best of his ability, “Get that shit away from me, heathen!”

You manage to sneak it in while he calls you a heathen, and he spits it out at your face, hitting your cheek, “Ew, ew, ew! Neil, you just fucking spat on me!”

He cocks an eyebrow, smirking, “You’ve had things a lot worse than that on your face, (Y/N).”

Rolling your eyes, you begin to retort, but the screen begins to dim, “This movie better be good, tickets were way too expensive for a dingy ass drive-in like this…”

Neil jokingly flicks your forehead, “Shush! Don’t insult this place of honor.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you kiss him on the cheek quickly, “Pass me the popcorn.”

The two of you snapped up the opportunity to watch the 1930s horror film Condemned To Live in a genuine restored drive-in theater. Restored was a strong word, the parking lot was full of barely trimmed weeds, and the quality of the food trucks surrounding it was subpar. The screen was falling apart, the whole shebang.

You prayed the movie would be the saving grace of your evening, but it turns out it was the cherry on top. It was dreary at best, suicide-inducing at its worst.

Neil looked as if he was enjoying it, but you mustered up something he might enjoy more. You sneak your hand onto his thigh, gently tracing shapes into it. He didn’t seem to notice your fingers moving their way up, or maybe he was playing along.

Biting your lip, you ghost your hand over Neil’s somewhat tightening jeans, and his hand stops you, “What do you think you’re playing at, babe?”

Smiling rather innocently, you whisper, “Oh, nothing in particular. Movie’s just a bit… dry, is all.”

“Well, I find it to be rather exciting, so you better keep quiet.”

He didn’t tell you to stop, so you take that as a good sign. Beginning to unbutton and unzip his slacks, you hear his breath catch. Your hand slips into his checkered briefs– how cartoonish– and you feel just how hard Neil is.

Teasing him for it would be so easy, but you don’t wanna interrupt his enjoyment of the movie. Leaning your head down, you kiss his tip gently. Neil’s thighs shuffle in the sudden discomfort of his car’s seat, but he doesn’t stop you or urge you on.

You bob your head down suddenly, take as much of his length into your mouth as you can, and your hand reaches what you can’t. His hand quickly comes down to hold your head, practically petting your hair.

“God, your mouth…”

“Keep watching the movie, big boy. Thought you liked it?”

Neil groans as you move up and down his length again, and you smile at the noise. He was so easy, and you ate it up. Your other hand that wasn’t gripping his dick like it was a lifeline moves down to cup him, and his hips thrust up.

You choke, but laugh at his desperation, “Easy, now.”

His eyes roll, but his impatience fades when you lean down to suck at his balls especially hard. Your tongue passed over them incessantly, and his little moans were almost loud enough to alert anyone else in the drive-in.

“Stay quiet for me, come on.”

Neil pulls your head back up by the hair, motioning you to suck him off again, “Please, (Y/N).”

You oblige, but not without giving him a quick squint. You want him to come in your mouth as soon as possible, the movie’s dialogue was making you feel murderous. Working hard, you flatten your tongue and suck at his tip, feeling his hips twitching at every tiny ministration.

“So close, come on, come on, please!”

It took everything not to mock Neil for being so eager, but you were a bit preoccupied with him beginning to fuck your mouth. Relaxing your jaw, and letting him use your mouth like a toy, he quickly stutters into your mouth, releasing down your throat.

In any other situation, you would’ve spat it out, but this time, you decided to show him you swallowing. Neil’s eyes widen, even in his lethargic state, and his mouth falls open in a whine, “God, you’re sexy, (Y/N).”

You kiss him harshly, the taste of his release still on your tongue. Unexpectedly, he starts to suck on your tongue, and you smile widely into the kiss.

“Did you even like the movie, Neil?”

“Fuck, no,” he bites at your bottom lip, “Was hoping you’d find a way to make it enjoyable, and you delivered.”

[f0xgl0v3]

Octavian headcanons :3

Another round of general Octavian headcanons, family edition! Would first like to state I’m not touching the legacy strands currently because stuff like Augustus Caesar and his demigod status in Pjo and all of that messes stuff up and I need more time to think about that and actually reading ToA and stuff.

Anyways, motivation for the Octavian post is to settle pre-audition jitters. Drama club beauty and the beast production, and auditions are tomorrow :,] gonna have to weasel my way through the singing part and hope my acting carries me the rest of the way through (in the words of Perseus Jackson; if I tried to sing I’m pretty sure it’d cause an avalanche.)

*Update because I’ve been writing this post for a day; we had dance auditions first! Pretty much just seeing where we are in dancing skills for this, it was really chill and fun and vibes were immaculate! Sorry this post is kind of ajifnsdb and I couldn’t get names down for these people, but I’d want to do that after figuring out.. naming work?

But ajdienajdjfneb whatever onto the headcannons!!

Big family, BIIIG family. In my head he has 8 other siblings (he is indeed the eighth child just for my amusement and it works for the little time before I work on how I think New Rome does naming, and I’m not touching that with a 39 and a half foot pole)

Old money family too. They’re descended from Emperors and they’ve managed to continue that legacy and have a family business, aware of Triumvirate holdings, may even have positive work relations.

Octavian is the 2nd youngest, in order his siblings go; 1st eldest, 2 kid, 3 child, 4&5 were twins, then 6,7,8,9. His poor mom has so many kids- but got solid breaks between them, though I don’t want to calculate ages at the moment.

Staring with his youngest sister. It’s Julia, that Julia. The one that’s Terminus’s little ‘assistant’. Octavian likes getting the opportunity to see her more often than most of his other siblings. She’s a little menace but gets away with it, nothing bad though, just mischievous.

Skipping Octavian we go to child 7. Who doesn’t have a name but just got out of the legion a few years ago, and moved out of the legion/New Rome. Bit of a rebel, but just wants to settle down with a family of their own and distance themselves from the family. They had a neutral-to negative relationship with Octavian. Octavian doesn’t like his siblings distance from Rome, and sibling likes Octavian but can’t help worry over him.

Kid 6 would be probably Gaius or something (again. Not about to go think too hard about what is gonna end up being Octavian’s Oc siblings. I can think about them later) he got out honorably after Mt.Tam, I like to think he’s still looking for a job and drifting in that University stage.

Kids 5&4 are twins, fraternal (maybe identical but I want more fraternal twins) and absolutely wild?? Jobs set up probably as something like loan sharks, they help upkeep the family fortune. Think like Ebenezer Scrooge or how Bob Marley are described in Christmas Carol. Taught Octavian everything they knew about blackmail, manipulation, etc. but they’re generally silly. Both usually try to charge people for various scams, think of the cartoonish dealer with the giant trench coat.

Child 3 has their own family and works for Bombillio’s (?) pretty comfortable with life. Fascinated with the mortal realm, slips on trips their parents take for business.

Child 2 and 1 have significantly branched off and live sort of anywhere, I feel like 1 is supervising that outpost in Canada (that’s another Hc I have that I talked about a LOOONG time ago) and then 2 probably lives out with their partner in San Fran and cats.

Okay a sorry I’m a little jittery because it is SNOWING!!!!! Where I am at least but still, SNOWING!! Sorry I couldn’t name anyone but still, wanted to get general family stuff down and writing posts like these calm me down when I’m feeling a bit aaaaaurgh.

Octavian has mostly good relationships with his siblings. Though he feels like he’s the only one really invested in being a citizen of New Rome and upholding the family name.

I’ll probably change around the siblings and their order whenever I decide how their ages work. But I feel they’re all relatively close in age and then Julia is just the odd one out.

His mother is a legacy from a newer family in New Rome, she’s pretty silly and generally just wants the best for her family.

His dad inherited the unnamed, unspecified family business/company and currently runs it, preserved his old crown awards and has them framed in his office, takes his family very seriously.

Okay, I’m working on the rankings research. It’s… a thing, but for now I might just make more of these random little hc posts, in between larger posts and passion stuff y’know?

Also maybe other fandoms? I’m still very much a Pjo person but I still wanna talk about other stuff lol,

Anyway here’s a quick Octavian thing I did, I’m still messing with his design, I feel like this might stick but I’ll still mess around with his hair, but I just wanted to add a little more to this post because it felt… pretty empty lol.

Also possible post on how some of the weapons characters have look? Would love to draw actual referenced things like IVILIS(? Don’t wanna go check but the Juno sword I think- Jason’s sword-) Reyna’s spear sword & dagger. Octavian’s Pilum & dagger, some hc stuff, maybe actual Camp Half-Blood stuff (because I wanna draw Backbiter)

Okay, I think I’m done now :3

[candyfsh]

Can you write about pony boy turning into a chicken nugget

it was a regular day in the curtis house. except, ponyboy was asleep a bit later than usual. it's been happening a lot recently, and both sodapop and darry thought it was just a part of puberty. this morning, they couldn't let him sleep longer. it was almost noon.

when they entered pony's room, he was just about dead asleep. they decided to wake him up with tickles and cuddles as they usually do. it always gets him in a good mood for the day.

while sodapop was lightly digging his fingers into ponyboy's sides and darry was doing the same, ponyboy quickly woke up and sat up, giggling and kicking them off. the brothers laughed along, but they noticed something was different about their brother's face. he looked a bit strange. his face was slightly more chiseled. they didn't pay much attention to it, only assuming it's the start of puberty once again.

after this, they brought ponyboy to the kitchen for breakfast. darry made eggs and bacon, the typical healthy breakfast. but when they all sat down, ponyboy had a look of defiance written all over his face.

"this is gross," he stated like it was a fact. "can i have chicken nuggets?" his gaze shifted from the plate to his oldest brother. darry knit his eyebrows together and looked at ponyboy.

"what do you mean? no, you can't have chicken nuggets. jus' eat your breakfast, pony."

ponyboy looked angry. it was a look you didn't often see from ponyboy. sure, he's annoyed a lot and he can get mad sometimes, but this is pure anger. sodapop immediately felt worry wash over him as he noticed the changes in his little brother.

"i want fucking nuggets, darry!"

darry slammed his fist on the table and sodapop furrowed his eyebrows.

"don't you talk to me that way!" he scolded in a pure angry tone. he held his finger out to ponyboy, almost as a warning sign. "you don't ever talk to me like that! go up to your room, boy."

ponyboy stood up and stomped away to his and sodapop's shared bedroom. he slammed the door shut. the slam was hard enough to knock down a picture from the wall.

darry had no idea what's gotten into ponyboy. this isn't the ponyboy he knew. sodapop couldn't help but feel sort of afraid for his brother. what's gotten into him?

as soda and darry continue their breakfast, they can hear odd noises coming from the bedroom. it sounds like ripping and growling and quiet screaming. they don't know if they should check on ponyboy or just to leave him alone. but the noises become too much for darry to bear. they're both so worried about their little brother, but darry decides to be the one to check on him.

darry stands up and approaches the bedroom door, and sodapop walks behind him. he knocks on the door gently.

"pone?"

the noises suddenly stop as sodapop's soft voice speaks up. the door makes a slight noise like it's unlocking, so darry goes to open the door only to found out that pony locked it. they try to knock again, but then are met with the sound of glass shattering. the two brothers dash towards the front door and run outside to see if ponyboy hurt himself. what they saw left them in shock.

it was ponyboy's final form. his skin was a golden brown crust, his face was almost cartoonish. he had no limbs. he was a 5'5 chicken nugget. sodapop and darry stared, frozen in shock and confusion.

"ponyboy..."

sodapop muttered, trying to understand. he was trying to figure out if this was real or not. all ponyboy could say were the only words that he could ever speak for the rest of his life.

"gegagedigadagedago..."

[runwayrunway]

No. 32 - Japan Transocean Air Jinbei Jets

Over the past two days, @lillybean730, @whatmorecouldapoorboydo, and @fungaloids have all tagged me in this post, which contains this image.

The link beneath is broken, but based on the text below, I would presume it was posted in response to the introduction into service of Japan Transocean Air's two "Jinbei Jets". ('Jinbei-zame' is the Japanese name for whale sharks!)

That's right, there are two of them! The Jinbei Jet actually comes with a matching Sakura Jinbei! They're both Boeing 737-800s delivered new to JTA (a JAL subsidiary based in Naha which usually just uses the JAL livery, hence the vestigial Tsurumaru logo on the tail) in late 2017; the blue Jinbei entered service in September while the Sakura entered service in December.

These are adorable, there's just no way around it. The low-sitting eyes, combined with the existence of the cockpits, does make it look a little like the plane has two sets of eyes, or one real set of eyes and one set of false eyes to throw off predators, but just - just look at her!

Her little eyelash! The little sakura blossom behind her ear! AAAH!

The methods used here resemble those Amakusa Airlines uses for their absolutely darling dolphin plane. The whale shark design is centered at the nose of the airplane and then allowed to diverge from there, which allows for the general shape of the shark to be expressed well. Together with a very clever use of negative space on the bottom half of the plane, this also very easily renders a white underbelly. Blank space is then left above the dorsal fins to write the name of the airline, and the tail frames the tailplane really nicely.

They're both very well-drawn and pretty designs. While I do wish there was something other than plain white in the background, like maybe a wave design or even just a light blue, I understand the choice, and it's not really what the point is here. The point is the whale sharks. Still, the white feels very sharp as a contrast, and I prefer the way Amakusa Airlines used a lighter blue and limited the white space. The Tsurumaru is also a bit busy. It's a gorgeous logo but I think on a plane like this the whale shark should be the only thing that really pulls any attention. The viewer's eye should be drawn right to the airplane's eye (the drawn on one) immediately, without anything directing it to the tail, like a big bright red logo. While the sharks themselves are incredible, the rest of the plane isn't a particularly good vehicle to present them with.

Again in contrast to Amakusa Airlines, this design is much more realistic and much less stylized. I don't think that's a good or a bad thing. In fact, I think they're both wonderful. Despite both being sea creatures they are very distinct-looking, which I like. One is a very cartoonish and delighted dolphin with two smiling dolphin engines, and the other is a set of two very charming elegant whale sharks with delightful big round eyes. Both of them make me very happy when I look at them. I feel like my job here is slightly redundant because I think my reaction is completely universal.

These are just a pair of really pretty and endearing planes, and I could not adore them more. I think I prefer the vivid pink of Sakura Jinbei, but I also do love the classic blue color. And I think the knowledge that these two are a pair improves each of them even more. They're simply lovely.

An A for Jinbei and Sakura Jinbei!

[elfqueen006]

Mr. Haberdae (Ch.1)

Joseph Haberdae x Fem Reader

This is a bit of a "modern" Bluebeard retelling, or rather inspired by it and many other erotic thrillers~

Please enjoy <33

----

The door chimed open upon your entering. And following your first step was Caryl shoving your uniform into your face.

“Where the hell have you been!?” she yelled, startling a few of the patrons, which, now that you noticed, there were a lot today. Definitely more than your usual quota of customers. It was a full house!

Without thinking you answered, “I slept in.”

Caryl looked at you like you had an unusually large zit on your forehead. Her big brown eyes bulged out of her skull as her smudged red lips pulled into a tight line. She put her hands on her hips and you were extremely cautious of her sharp red nails digging uncomfortably into her pants. You were certain she was holding them back from your throat.

You opened your mouth to say that you’d get to work, but in the next second, she threw her arms above her head. “Oh, you slept in!” She hooted, “Well, why didn’t ya just say so?”

“Carrie, I’m sorry-”

“Now, why are you sorry? That’s good, you slept in! That’s real good that you did that!” 

Her face became redder as she rambled. Movements became more animated as she nodded and gave you a big ear-to-ear smile, though it was more the type that resembled a dog snarling. Her nose crinkled up and her neck was pulled the more she smiled. “You know what? You know something? I should have slept in today! It would’ve saved me so much stress. Hell, I could’ve come over and we would’ve had ourselves a fun little sleepover, y’know? A girl’s night — just us girls!!”

You wrung the fabric of the uniform in your hands that were getting clammier by the second.

But Caryl wasn’t done. She turned her head towards the bar where Dexter, your boss, and the diner’s bartender, stood. He was in the middle of preparing someone’s sundae when Caryl called his name.

“Hey Dex, wanna know something? (Name) slept in while we were packed on Valentine's Day!” Oh. Well, that explained the sudden increase in customers.

Dexter’s face fell, “Was she feeling bad?”

“Ya know what? I never asked!” Caryl whipped her head back towards you, a cartoonish concerned expression on her beet red face. “Were you, (Name)?”

The entire diner quieted, just as interested in what your answer would be. You cringed as you shook your head. Caryl then, turning back to your boss gave an exaggerated shrug. “Welp! What can you do?”

Dexter pursed his lips and went back to taking orders, though you didn’t miss the disappointed look in his eyes, making you feel a twinge of guilt.

“So um, what should I do now?”

Caryl pointed to a man in the far back. He was a big guy and drab looking in his secondhand corduroy jacket. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the diners who were either in their nicest day clothes or paired up with someone. He looked like a grifter. And while those weren’t uncommon in your area, you so rarely saw them outside of bars or street corners.

But one thing that overshadowed all of that was his striking blue hair.

“He got here ten minutes ago. Go over there and take his order,” she said. “I’m going to take my break. You can take the rest since you’re so rested up.” And with that, she turned on her heels and sashayed to the back of the diner.

You sighed. It was going to be a long shift.

—

Caryl had made her point. You could imagine her stumbling over her own heels trying to keep track of every order just like you were at the moment. Even when there wasn’t an order, there’d be a messy table left by a diner and you’d have to clean it up. You supposed that you were getting your just desserts, seeing as this was your fifth time in a month being late to your shift.

There was a family function coming up in a few weeks and your mother had been hassling you about bringing a guest. You’d brung plenty of friends in the past, Caryl included. But your mother was insistent that she’d rather you be seen with male company. You had no one in mind unfortunately. Thus, she kept you up all night with conversation that was 50 percent suitor picks, 40 percent nagging, and 10 percent actually asking about your day. Within all of that, you learned she’d also been telling your other family members you started dating as to “help you save face”.

“You’re just so pretty!” She said, “Pretty and intelligent! How do you think it makes me feel telling my sister that my only daughter is cooped up in her apartment, not enjoying life?”

You somewhat understood her point of view. Somewhat. Sure, with how hectic the city was, you had a habit of being overly cautious, and falling into comfortable patterns. But you really wish she considered your end of the little story she cooked up. It wasn’t as if your aunt and cousins didn’t talk to you. And you actually tell them what you do! Regardless of her attempt to make you look good, you’d both end up looking foolish!

What started as a sleeping off your mothers’ foolishness, became you getting careless with your work schedule.

As you’re cleaning off a table, you glance back at Dexter, still swamped with orders. The anxiety on his face makes your stomach churn and it dawns on you just how much you took advantage of his kindness. He’s a sweet but aged man who inherited the diner for his father, and while he insists he loves his job, you can tell he’s more than deserving of a break.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Another coffee?”

You could swear it was this man’s sixth cup of coffee. You guessed whatever was in his plans made for a lengthy day. And no matter how many times you approached him, the vibrancy of his hair seemed that much more so. You’ve heard of people going blonde or even brunette, but never blue. Maybe that scene from Grease was beginning to catch on in the city.

“You can just call me ‘waitress’, y’know. It’s way less offensive than ma’am.” You said, pouring the pitcher's contents into his mug.

The stranger raised a brow, “How is ma’am offensive?”

“It feels old.”

The man snorts, “Women.” he muttered.

“Yes, women.”

You looked him over for the first time since serving him. He’d looked pretty drab at first glance. But he had a nice soft face with a beauty mark in the right corner of his left eye, as well as a small dimple in his chin. His coiffed mullet that framed his face nicely. He might be what you call classically handsome if not for the eyebrow piercings and various tattoos.

Noticing your attraction to him, he leaned back on the booth. Eager to give your curious eyes a show as his jacket slid away from his shapely chest. It had a decent amount of hair on it. The kind you’d like to nuzzle into and sleep on at night while he held you tight…

“Well…if you don’t mind me asking. How old are you?” He asked.

“...Old enough.”

“What’s your version of ‘old enough’?”

“I dunno… twenty-something.”

“So, you’re twenty?”

“If I wanted you to know, I would've told you, right?”

Stranger scoffs in a good-natured way and turns to you with a big pure white smile. Your cheeks warm up and you feel yourself smile back, though your insides feel as if they're turning to jelly. He's probably had a ton of girls (or guys) fall victim to that smile. It's so photogenic, pleasant, and sweet. And his eyes betray an enticing bit of mischief. It's the kind of smile that should be in magazines and commercials.

Figuring your job here is done, you turn away with a brief word. But you can't help but feel like he's watching your back. You're still walking as you glance back – he is looking. 

You end up bumping hard into Caryl who was carrying a tray. Great. Just as she decides to help, that’s when you fuck it up. You dare look up at her and find her brown eyes are wide with white hot anger, but instead of laying those long claw-like acrylics on you she goes back to the employee break room. 

You hear the strangers’ laughter as you chase after your fuming co-worker.

—

It was pretty obvious you had a crush on the newest patron at the diner. Well, obvious to everyone but yourself. Caryl let you know that much when you came into work one day looking around and Joseph – the patrons’ name (which you learned with some unsubtle prodding) – was not there yet. Your mood was noticeably dim throughout your shift. You took orders and replied to patrons very curtly. As a result, Caryl ended up pulling you aside and made you take a break while she took on the rest of her shift. 

“I said I’m sorry, Caryl!” you whined. You knew that you were being unprofessional, but you hadn’t wanted your job to be in jeopardy because of it; you barely made as much in your regular hours as is.

“Nuh-uh! ‘Sorry don't cut it!” she said, “You need to kick that attitude when you come in here, (Name), you are not a child. Stop moping because some fella who can’t even afford a better jacket gives you bubble guts.”

“You mean butterflies..?”

“I know what I mean!” Caryl snapped. “That boy’s got your nose wide open and he’s not even any good.”

Your lip curled up in an indignant snarl, “You don’t even know him!”

“I know dudes like him. He likes the attention little girls like you give ‘im, and he always looks smug when you nearly fall over yourself to take his order. He’s trouble.”

You both went back and forth like that for a while. And of course you weren’t interested in a thing Caryl had to say. She wasn’t even that older than you despite her way of speaking and her height. She said she just had a lot of experience and made a lot of mistakes that she wished she hadn’t. You could understand that she had your best interest in mind – but that didn’t mean the same things would happen to you…

Ding!

You peeked out of the employee break room and who else should you see but Mr. Haberdae? Without even waiting for the go-ahead, you swiped your notebook and pen away from Caryl before skipping outside and up to his table.

It wasn’t like you were in love with the guy anyway. And if things got rough, that’s how life was right?

[traingains]

It was a joke.

A complete joke.

She literally said she was kidding when she put up the goal.

So why the hell does she now have to drink an entire carton of buttermilk?

"You guuuuyysss I was just jookiiiinng! I don't wanna actually drink this!" Chagrin oozes from her outstretched lips and her red flushed face as the chat rolls in and teases her, a classic case of the chatters laughing at the streamer for doing something stupid.

... It's not even that it's too much, a carton is no problem- it's the fact that she has to drink it RIGHT in front of a live audience that is ACTIVELY TEASING HER because they just want to see how fast the fat ass can slurp it all down... What ever... Whatever, she'll just drink it, and be done with it, and then she can just play Elden Ring.

Her pudgy fingers quickly uncapped the carton, removed the seal and got to drinking, it's a tad bit thick, but not nearly as thick as heavy cream as it flows calmly into her throat with each tilt. A good large swig fills up her cheeks with a loud cartoonish "Ulp-" to follow close behind. The humanized jerboa takes... "Little" less pleasure in this than she usually does since it's out of embarrassing necessity than an enjoyable passtime, a flood of tangy liquid enters her belly, expanding on it juuuust a tiny bit, barely noticeable from the vast ocean of lard that is on display.

Small rivers of white stream down from her lips and unto her shirt, she pays no mind when her goal is to finish this up as fast as she can. Not a breath drawn, not a word said when the carton has been drained of it's liquid. Dooby doesn't even take in any deep breaths, for chat it was quite the interesting spectacle, bot for her? A more embarrassing Sunday afternoon, really-

"There! I'm done! Now I'm playing Elden Ring!" Try as she might to move past it as if it's regular, chat just couldn't get their minds out of it. They knew she was a fat ass, but by that much...?

[kindheart525]

This post inspired me to do a little exploration of Gola’s teenage years! She’s not very kind to others as an adult, making a hobby out of rage-baiting strangers on the internet, but one thing she does have going for her is that she’s very confident in herself and her looks. Believe it or not, she was once very insecure.

Her whole thing is that she has a gorgeous supermodel body topped off with a goofy, cartoonish, bug-eyed critter head, and this was not something she was proud of. Especially since she had no hair which really accentuated the oddly-shaped nub atop her shoulders. For a time she wore a wig to cover this up, even though the vibrant blue waves and modest (by her standards lol) clothing only concealed self-loathing.

You might expect a sad girl who clings to her pillow at night and hopes for friendship and joy in her life, but that was not Gola at all. As much as she hated her own looks, she made a conscious effort to ensure that everyone else felt a thousand times worse. To one-up her own bullies and be even meaner than them.

Kip felt bad for Gola. Just a few years ago she was in the same position, feeling so insecure in her own self-image that she made it everyone else’s problem. Even to the point of hurting her best friend. She didn’t exactly try to fix Gola or anything, but she did reach out and try to be a smiling face who she could take comfort in. A glimmer of kindness in what she knows feels like a cruel world when you’re a growing girl. Maybe it would mean something to Gola.

But as you can see here, Kip quickly realized that Gola didn’t want kindness. She might have struggled with her self-esteem but she took joy in being a bully, in stirring shit just for the hell of it. Kip’s kindness didn’t quell that flame, but rather stoked it, reigniting her own insecurities in the process.

But Gola wasn’t free from consequences.

Ell quickly heard about what Gola did and jumped to Kip’s defense, as any good sister would. Gola would usually taunt such vigilantes, but Ell is like a sister to her and it admittedly did feel pretty shitty to get on her bad side like this. The girls who usually conspired with each other got pitted against each other by her actions. This didn’t lead to any sort of epiphany where Gola changed her ways or anything, but it did force her to deliver an awkward apology to Kip and recognize her as off-limits to her vitriol.

Eventually Gola experienced a shift in mindset, a recognition that by covering herself up, she was just letting those assholes win. Becoming a bully wasn’t enough when she was still letting her own bullies control her actions and her opinion of herself. So she ditched the wig and is now showing the world that she doesn’t give a fuck what they think.

She also calmed down a bit with the deeply personal attacks, now only delivering insults to those she feels have explicitly wronged her rather than to every passerby who acknowledges her existence. A girl like Kip might grow from her insecurities as someone who spreads kindness, who does her best to make sure nobody else feels like her, but Gola learned how to fight back. Someone makes fun of her bald head? She fires back with, “I hope you get cancer.”

Besides the fighting back against bullies, Gola does still enjoy the art of taunting strangers through internet trolling. Except instead of having a vendetta against everyone who’s more confident than her, instead of having any ulterior and deeply personal motives, she just thinks it’s funny to watch people work themselves into a tizzy over some comment she made to bait them. It’s not her fault they fell for it and provided her free entertainment.

[guilty-pleasure-writings]

Movie Night - The Triplets

F/M/M/M (all cis) reader insert smut-fic featuring @eldritch-spouse's demon OCs, Ludwig, Obie, and Mervin. Ya'll can read this even if you're not familiar with the characters. It's very NSFW, 4000 words. Divider by firefly-graphics.

Hurt/comfort with emphasis on the comfort. Smut and a tiny bit of fluff. The sex is consensual, but there are dubcon elements (one kink is not discussed before hand or agreed upon). These characters are yanderes in their natural environment, but this piece is entirely mild on that front.

So without futher ado:

(reader who is typically self-assured and mildly controlling, and for unspecified reasons is currently living in perdition) 

When you open the door to Katia’s, Ludwig is the first person you see. He straightens at your appearance, both intrigue and concern duelling for control of his features. The concern wins out when you don’t smile. No boasting or joviality at your bruises, and the smear of blood. No comment on the obvious scrap you’d gotten yourself into. When you step into the circle of his arms, silent, and lean in for a hug, he’s entirely shocked. Your mood must really be down if you’re looking for comfort.  

“You okay?” 

You don’t want to talk about it, closing your eyes and pressing your face against his shoulder instead. The bruises would heal. The scrapes would fade. You were depressed more than anything. It’s an effort for you to shrug. To reply. “Long day.” 

Hesitant, he pats you on the back. You don’t typically go to the triplets for comfort, and you’re not sure they know how to give it, but it soothes you regardless. 

“Why don’t you wash up? There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.” 

You grunt your acknowledgement and leave him, flustered and covered in blood. You take your time in the shower, letting the hot water loosen your muscles. It stings as it runs over your open cuts. The defensive wounds on your forearms burn. It’s a welcome burn. One you have control over.  

Ludwig paces in the lounge. Tries to will his arousal away. Seeing you covered in blood is definitely stirring, but your sombre mood put a dampener on things. He wonders how much the mask is slipping if you can’t even pretend to be okay right now.  

Hastily he texts his brother. ‘U can stop looking. She’s home.’ 

‘Condition?’ 

Ludwig frowns. ‘Seems kinda bummed.’ 

‘Idiot. I mean is she still possessed?’ 

‘Don’t think so. She walked in herself.’ 

He stows his phone when you return, dressed in sweatpants and a loose top. You’re covered in a patchwork of bandaids and bandages, and Lud distantly wonders if he should have helped apply them. Probably. 

You sprawl on the couch where you’ve been crashing with a sigh, and Ludwig blanks on what to do. You’re not usually this despondent. 

“Can I sit with you?” 

He gets a thumbs up. 

He takes a tentative seat, surprised when you roll over and snuggle up to him.  

You lose track of time, snapping to attention when Katia wanders in and starts fussing. “You look terrible, love. Are you okay?” 

You shrug away the memory of being piloted like a meatsuit. “Nothing that won’t heal. I’ll live.” 

The demon frowns, your depression and energy as obvious to her as the blood and cuts are to her son. “Tsk. Get some rest, love. I’ll tell Obie you’re home. He’ll cook you up something nice, I’m sure.” 

You watch her leave, eyes catching on the purple figure in the doorway. Mervin had arrived.  

You manage to dredge up a little smile. Pat the couch beside you in invitation. 

He seems surprised to be invited, but joins you. He’s even more taken aback when you wriggle over, putting your head into his lap, and resting your feet in Ludwig’s. You wouldn’t admit it aloud, but you’re feeling more than a little touch starved. 

“Did you want to watch a movie?” Ludwig supplies helpfully. 

You shrug, eyelids drooping closed. “Sure. Something light-hearted maybe.” 

For once the pair don’t bicker over the remote, and soon some cartoonish plot is playing out on the screen nearby. Ludwig starts to rub your feet, and you let out a content sigh, nearly groaning at the contact. Hesitantly, Mervin’s fingers tangle in your hair. You lean into the touch, letting out another little noise, and soon he’s rubbing your scalp and combing out your trusses. 

You close your eyes, just listening to the movie, when there’s a touch at your shoulder. Obie is crouching in front of the couch. “Did you eat today?” 

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of food. “Don’t think so.” 

The yellow demon frowns. “Let me get you something?” 

With all you’ve seen today, you’re not confident in your appetite, but you shrug. Obie’s cooking is always a treat. “M’kay.”  

You’re wedged between Mervin and Ludwig when he returns with a tray absolutely laden with hot food. You look at the array with raised brows. 

“Obie...” 

He winces at your tone. 

“Sugar... honey... muffin... sweetcakes...” 

“For fuck's sake,” Mervin groans. “He gets it.” 

Obie is still concerned, but his cheeks are reddening with the nicknames.  

“You’re going to have to get another spoon. I can’t eat all this alone.” 

The demon brightens at your solution before racing off. When he’s back you both rip into the meal, with Obie glancing at you between bites, trying to gauge your reaction.  

You’re tired, but not so tired that you can’t yearn for the normalcy of a sweet moment. With that in mind you sample one of the dishes, and offer him your spoon. “Try this. It’s good.” 

His whole countenance brightens, and he leans forward to take your offering, tongue slipping out to clean the whole length of the fork, brushing your fingertips teasingly. 

You roll your eyes at him, conjuring a tired smile. When the food is gone (Obie ate most of it), you relax back onto the couch. The gluttony demon sits on the floor by your feet, the four of you bathing in silence, decompressing after a long day.  

You reach out and stroke the skin between his horns. “Thanks Ob.” 

“Can I get you anything else, Peach?” 

You close your eyes and hum. “Maybe some chocolate.” 

He’s back before you can open your eyes, a whole block of your favourite brand in hand. You smile appreciatively, but instead of reaching out to take the treat, you open your mouth and lean forward. “Aah.” 

Obie’s face darkens with blush. “You want me to..?” 

You nod, impatient. It’s fun messing with him like this. He’s cute when he’s flustered. 

His fingers shake when he breaks off a piece and feeds it to you. 

Mervin snorts. “Pfft. Loser.” 

You pinch him and let Obie finish feeding you. When half a block of chocolate is gone, you withdraw, sprawling out over Merv and Lud again, letting them ply you with soft touches and affection. 

“Thank you,” you make sure to meet Obie’s eyes, drawing out the words. 

He flushes before turning around to lean against the couch, drawing his knees up to hide what can only be a growing erection. 

You nearly drift off, to be honest, spreading your legs a little, and angling your hips up when Ludwig massages higher, making his way up your calves and rubbing at your thighs. The tension finally leaves your body, and you stare up at Mervin with a sleepy smile.  

He blinks at your expression, probably unused to such displays of softness.  

Ludwig is massaging your inner thighs when arousal stirs within you. You squirm, face warming at his persistent touches. You don’t know if he’s doing it intentionally, if he has the patience – he's certainly taking his time, working his way back down your legs. You nearly frown as his hands move in the direction opposite to what you want. 

Mervin is still watching you, his cheeks sporting a hint of blue – you realise you hadn’t seen him blush before. It’s cute.  

Spontaneously you make a ‘come hither’ motion with your finger, grinning up at him. 

Brows raised, he leans down, “What?” 

You link your arms around his neck and lean up to kiss him.  

He goes still. The hands on your legs also freeze. If your eyes were open, you’d roll them. Instead, you slip your tongue into Mervin’s mouth, pulling him closer. 

Finally, past the surprise, he kisses back, one arm supporting below your waist, the other working its way back into your hair. Hands resume movement on your legs, rubbing along your thighs. Lud’s claws are starting to dig into your flesh, and you know he’d rip your pants off if you let him. But you’ve no intention of rushing this. 

Then Mervin grips your hair, making a fist near your scalp, angling your head back so he can suck at your throat. You hum appreciatively, going loose and pliant under his lips.  

Obie whips his head around at the noise, finally noticing the commotion behind him. Nobody is watching the movie anymore.  

Ludwig huffs, losing patience and pulling you upright, onto his lap. Mervin rumbles with displeasure, but only for a moment. Your back is pressed against Ludwig’s chest, and he takes over for Mervin, kissing your neck, sucking a line of bites and hickeys along your shoulder. Your legs are spread and pinned open with his own. 

He’s rougher than his brother, and you tremble and whimper each time he bites too hard or grips you too tightly. Still, you’re exactly where you want to be, and you wouldn’t dream of pulling away. 

You blink and Obie is sitting between your knees, hands going to your waistband. It’s not hard to guess what he’s planning.  

“Tsk,” you warn him.  

He pauses, and if his eyes could open any further you know he’d be giving you a puppy dog stare. 

“We have all night.” 

He pouts. 

You hope he backs down. You’d really like to take this slow, and you’re not in the mood to have a standoff. But all is forgotten when Lud pulls your shirt up.  

Obie’s attention immediately switches to your breasts; full and unclothed. You hadn’t put on a bra after your shower, and you can’t help but blush at the attention.  

You tremble and arch when he moves to mouth at those, drenching them with drool. You hadn’t realised that with his long tongue, he’d manage to lick both at once, but it’s certainly a pleasant surprise. You whimper with anticipation at the threat of his teeth, their needle points grazing your flesh.  

There’s another hand on your leg. Warmth at your side. Mervin has sidled up and is watching the exchange intently, his hand creeping up your thigh, to the top of your pants. This time you don’t stop them, instead spreading your legs further.  

Ludwig huffs against your ear. “Needy.” 

You ignore him, bucking your hips with desire. You don’t remember the last time you were caged in like this, and it leaves you feeling high with excitement.  

Mervin’s fingers dip past your waistband, into your underwear. He traces your folds, finding your growing wetness before smearing it over your clit. 

You jolt with the contact, letting out another whine.  

“Be still,” Ludwig orders before latching back onto your neck. 

You try. But between the teeth at your shoulder, the attention to your breasts, and the gentle but precise touches at your core, it doesn’t take long before you’re seizing and jerking as you come. Juices flood your underwear, and you shake with aftershocks. 

Mervin pulls back his hand, sucking his fingers dry. At the motion Obie pauses to growl. “I wanted to taste her first.” 

You’re too relaxed to resist. In fact, you sympathise with Obie enough that you grab one of his misshapen horns and guide him towards your crotch. 

Ludwig chuckles behind you. “You’re forgetting something, babe.” 

You frown and whine. 

“Strip.” 

Ah. That would help.  

You wriggle until you can get your pants around your ankles, not helped in the slightest by the wrath demon holding you open. He does release you long enough for you to remove your shirt, though. When you’re done, you hesitate, some clarity coming back to you. Mostly naked on a couch surrounded by demons, it’s the most vulnerable you’ve let yourself feel in a long while.  

Obie doesn’t wait any longer, pressing his face between your thighs. There’s a single, exploratory lick as he tastes you, slurping up the evidence of your previous orgasm. He groans, enthralled by the taste. Then his tongue is filling you, and you jerk at the sudden intrusion.  

Ludwig holds you tight, burying his teeth in your shoulder and drawing blood. He reaches around to cup your breasts, claws digging into your skin.  

You don’t have room to focus on the pain, instead occupied by the glutton’s tongue, and how thoroughly it fills you. You’d suspected its capabilities, but if you’d known it’d feel like this, you’d have jumped Obie sooner.  

He writhes inside you, poking and prodding in places that are almost uncomfortable, before backing off to caress and stroke other parts of you. It’s- barely describable. Definitely a welcome sensation. Pressure builds inside of you – no, he’s not squeezing more of his tongue inside (yet) - he’s rubbing against your g spot. The pressure is another orgasm building.  

You’re not sure if you’re able to come again so quickly, but the choice is taken away from you by force when Obie grips you by the thighs and stuffs himself deeper.  

“Ffffuck,” you groan through your high, arching against Ludwig and coming again.  

Obie doesn’t stop. Ludwig doesn’t stop. Mervin grips you by the hair and pulls your face to his, devouring you in another steaming kiss. You can barely focus on it, your mind emptying as your orgasm is prolonged and drawn out until you’re a shaking mess (did you just come from penetration alone?). 

You don’t know how much time passes before the glutton comes up for air. He licks his lips with a flourish, looking satisfied. You’re flushed, staring at him through bleary eyes.  

He barely notices, instead ducking back down for seconds. 

Ludwig growls. “It’s my turn.” 

Obie pauses, leveling that almost puppy dog stare at his brother. “But she’s so tasty.” 

“Don’t care. You had a go.” 

You’re suddenly aware of the hardness pinned against your back. The length of it is mouth-watering. And you’re more than a little fuckdrunk right now. Enough that you don’t think before you speak. “Both.” 

There’s a silence as the triplets stare at you, brows raised.  

You writhe against Ludwig’s grip. “Please. Now. Both.” 

Mervin grins. “You heard the lady. She’s enough of a slut – I'm sure you’ll both fit.” 

You whimper at the comment, grinding back against Ludwig. You might not be able to come again, but you don’t want the pleasure to stop. And you really want to be filled.  

Ludwig rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry about fit. I’m taking her ass.” 

You clench at the words, growing wetter with anticipation.  

Ludwig lifts you high enough to free his cock. Lowers you down on to it and moves you back and forth, using your slick to lube him up. With the combination of your juices and Obie’s drool, there’ll be no issue.  

Your heart starts pounding when he presses against your puckered entrance. He feels big, so big, and he hadn’t bothered stretching you, hadn’t bothered with prep.  

He sheaths himself and it hurts. By the Gods and the Icons, it fucking hurts. You’re no stranger to taking things up the ass. But usually carefully. Slowly.  

His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your wail. You shake and seize, clawing at his arms, trying desperately to climb off, but his grip is steadfast.  

You just need to relax. You know the pain will fade, that you’ll fucking adore the sensation, that you just need to relax and it will be okay, but fuck. He’d really stuck his entire length in, in one go. 

You pound your fist against his thighs, hard as you can, cursing around his hand. 

He only groans in response. Then chuckles. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. You’re so tight like this.” 

Even Obie is hesitating, waiting for you to adjust before rejoining. 

“Just breathe, babe,” Ludwig croons at you. “Or keep struggling, it’s really hot.” 

Tears slide down your cheeks but you listen to Ludwig. Clenching and unclenching over and over. It takes almost a whole two minutes before the pain fades. Before you’re able to relax against him, tension draining from your muscles. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your ear. Then he fucks you.  

His pace makes you gasp. Then whimper. Then moan. There’s no more pain, thank fuck, just breathlessness, and the sensation of being deliciously filled. Lud lifts you up and down on his lap with ease, treating you almost like a thing. A toy. 

You reach out, trying to brace yourself, and end up bent forward, with your arms wrapped around Obie’s neck. You whimper and cry and swear against his ear and he lets you, stroking your hair until Lud pulls you upright again, using one hand to pull your arms behind your back. 

At the loss of contact Obie blinks, snapping out of his daze. Then he grins at you and lowers himself back between your thighs, tongue darting out to taste you once more. He flicks at your clit, making you arch and whine, before dipping back inside.  

You gasp and shudder, limbs twitching. You don’t remember the last time you felt this full. This stuffed. You don’t know how they’re doing this, how Obie can coax more of his sinuous tongue inside of you. Ludwig slows his fucking, and you’re entirely grateful. You don’t think you have a millimetre to spare inside of you.  

You try to keep your eyes open, but everything is a blur. A wonderful, fuzzy blur. Your head lolls to one side and you lock gazes with Mervin. It’s no surprise to see him fisting himself, but you still groan at the sight. You lick your lips, filled with envy. Your hands twitch, and if Ludwig weren’t holding them firm you’d be reaching for the pride demon.  

He smirks at your reaction. “Aw. Does our pet want to touch?” 

You nod, nearly mindless at this point.  

His smile softens. “Later, lovely. You look a tad occupied at the moment.” 

You whine. It takes a monumental effort to string your words together. To remember the right things to say to the pride demon. “Please, Mervin. You look so good right now.” 

He purses his lips. Cheeks bluing some more. “Oh?” 

You don’t know how effective your begging is going to be when you’re teary eyed, your hair is plastered to your neck with sweat, and you can barely vocalise your thoughts with the way Mervin’s brothers are fucking you, but you still try.  

“-wanna touch, wanna taste, please, please, please, bet you’ll feel so good-” 

He goes silent, eyes narrowing as he tries to keep his composure. But the way he bites down on his lip and grips himself harder are easy tells.  

“-bet you’ll taste so nice-” it’s hard to speak between Ludwig’s thrusts, “-you look so hot right now-” your head is spinning. “Please Mervin,” you whine his name.  

Obie comes up for air to scowl at the pride demon. “Take a hint, Mer.” 

With the glutton out of the way, Ludwig pauses long enough to turn sideways, bending you forward so that you’re spread across the couch again, kneeling, with your head nearly in Mervin’s lap. He keeps hammering into you, but with the new angle you’re inches from Mervin’s cock.  

You crane your head to stare up at him, awaiting permission. Any other time it might chafe to do so, but you’re so buzzed right now that you have no problem sliding into the submissive role. 

His restraint breaks. Finally, he angles his hips towards you. “Go on, then.”  

There’s no finesse in your actions. The angle’s not ideal and it’s hard to get a good rhythm with Ludwig’s fucking, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You’re practically drooling, mouthing at his cock and licking up the sides before sucking on the tip. You swirl your tongue around, trying to make him feel as good as you’re feeling, fitting as much of him into your mouth as you can; sloppy in your enthusiasm.  

The hands in your hair turn to fists, and soon he’s thrusting up into your mouth, making you cough and gag. You try to relax, focusing on just breathing and getting fucked at both ends. It’s a fruitless effort and soon your eyes are lined with reflexive tears. 

There’s no warning before Ludwig comes in your ass. You relish the way he twitches, clenching hard around him, wishing desperately that there was something in your cunt, or that you had some friction against your clit. You could probably come again with some assistance.  

You shudder when Ludwig pulls out, his cum leaking out of your hole. You can feel the stares on your ass, and can’t help but squirm, moaning around Mervin’s length. He’s deep enough in your throat that he can feel your noises. 

 Suddenly you’re wrenched off his cock and being led up by the hair.  

“Sit. Now.” 

He makes you straddle him, not even hesitating before grabbing you by the hips and plunging into your pussy.  

You thought Ludwig was rough. Mervin surprises you with the force of his thrusts, one hand still fisted in your hair while the other grips your thigh. Your jaw falls slack and you’re powerless to stop the sounds from escaping you. Obscene moans, breathless grunts; all manner of lewd sounds.  

“You. Noisy. Slut.” He punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips. “You could have just said you wanted to fuck me. You must feel so honoured right now. I don’t do this to just anyone, you know.” 

His words blur together as you lose focus. You know he’s just talking himself up, that all you have to do is nod and agree. Still, you can’t help but tune back in when something brushes against your clit. You writhe when it presses harder, and a glance down reveals the spade of his tail pressed flush between you.  

“Are you going to come for me again, pet? Show me how good I make you feel?” 

Insufferable as he can be, you don’t plan to argue, spreading wider, trying to grind against his tail while keeping rhythm with his fucking. It’s nearly impossible. Your limbs feel like jelly, and you just want to collapse on top of the purple demon.  

You must look as fucked out and pathetic as you feel, because somebody takes pity on you; another pair of hands come to rest at your waist, lifting you up and down on Mervin’s length.  

You let yourself go slack; your arms give out and your face presses against Mervin’s shoulder. If you had more brain function left, you might be struck with just how arousing the situation is; somebody else pumping you up and down Mervin’s cock.  

You look down. Yellowed hands grip your waist. And past them Mervin’s tail still grinds against you; the demon now able to direct more attention to your clit.  

Part of your mind skitters towards the demon behind you. The strength of his grip and the press of his erection against your back. But he doesn’t do more than support you, lifting you up and down. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed. Especially as your next (and hopefully last) orgasm starts to present itself; coiling in your core and making your legs shake. 

Mervin’s claws dig into your skin when he shudders and comes inside you. Obie lets go of your waist, but you keep grinding against Mervin’s lap, whimpering with need. He couldn’t stop now, not when you were so close.  

Somebody laughs. You’re released, collapsing into a heap on the couch. Pushed onto your back. Legs spread.  

The touches don’t stop. Thank fuck. 

Brutal pressure against your clit until you’re a shaking mess, gasping and coming with a series of ungodly noises.  

Then the room is still.  

You might just pass out. Partially, at least. There’s the sound of the tv, still going. Some voices, accompanied by gentle, but firm touches. 

“-put her clothes back on would ya-” 

“-needs to shower, idiot-” 

“-thought humans weren’t supposed to sleep in the shower?” 

You’re too floaty to care for the bickering, just appreciative when somebody dresses you and you’re sprawled across the couch again. There’s more discussion; soft, mindful of your presence. Then hands at your hair. Fingers at your legs again, unknotting any sore muscles. 

You crack your eyes open. It looks as if everyone has returned to their previous positions.  

Obie is sitting at the foot of the couch, his head a few inches from your own. He catches your stare and gives you a smile.  

‘You. Me. Later,’ you mouth to him.  

He flushes.