#<- tagged for those who tweak the fuck out because of that thing
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Red's Favourite Women Of All Time: Angela Orosco
"Or maybe... You think you can save me? Will you love me? Take care of me? Heal all my pain? Hmph. That's what I thought."
#Crimson's Gifs: Silent Hill#Silent Hill#SH#Silent Hill 2#SH2#Silent Hill 2: Directors Cut#Angela Orosco#Angela (SH)#Angela (SH2)#Angela (Silent Hill)#Angela Silent Hill 2#James Sunderland#Abstract Daddy#<- tagged for those who tweak the fuck out because of that thing#I swear I start moving like I'm freddy fazbear every time I see this thing its so fucking grotesque as a concept#Masahiro Ito i am in your walls and behind you always like Lisa in P.T.#I actually beat a procured version of P.T. the other day and it was really funny because the sink fetus looked like a red block because the#didn't put the actual model in or something. That and some random dude was giving out shoutouts at the end instead of the trailer rolling#Anyways Angela Orosco thank you for being the most thought provoking character ive experienced in a while#I genuinely think SH2 is a masterpiece and I havent even beaten it on my own yet#I keep bringing up Marys photo every 5 minutes like the camera menu in FNAF 2 if I don't get the Leave ending I'm gonna In Water real.#<- Greetings federal agents the last tag was Satire#Theme: Favourite Women Of All Time#Theme: Psychological Horror
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strawberry
Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader
summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.
warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.
MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.
word count: 2.4k
a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.
He’s fucked you plenty of times before.
But never like this. No, never, ever like this.
He’s relentless.
His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.
It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.
Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.
No, he was pushing you past your limits.
Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.
“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”
“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”
“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”
Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.
“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.
“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”
Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”
You had been so certain that you could.
Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”
Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.
You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.
His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.
You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.
Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.
“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”
His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.
The man you belonged to, the man you loved.
Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—
“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”
Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“But Daddy, I just can’t—”
You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.
And you really, really can’t.
He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”
“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.
Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”
“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”
It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”
Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.
“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”
Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.
“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”
“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”
“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”
Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”
Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.
“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”
“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”
In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.
“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”
“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”
His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”
“For using the safe word—”
Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”
Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”
“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”
“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”
“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”
“I should’ve listened to you.”
He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”
You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”
“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”
“Really? You promise?”
Joel holds up his pinky.
“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.
“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”
You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.
“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”
“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”
“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”
You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”
Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.
You trace his collarbone with your index finger.
“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”
“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”
“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”
He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”
You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”
There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.
Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”
The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.
My good girl.
My perfect girl.
I’m s’proud of you.
I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.
After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.
“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”
You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”
“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”
“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”
Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.
He knows that. Of course he knows that.
It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.
You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.
“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.
“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”
“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”
You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.
“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.
“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.
“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”
You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.
“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.
Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”
You stop him and point to the empty bowl.
“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”
He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.
“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.
“Too late.”
divider credit to @saradika 🍓
#tw daddy kink#tw: daddy kink#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fluff#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller one shot#joel miller drabble#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader
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ASKING FOR IT !
ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
tags. p in v, smut, cheating (not on reader), ooc leon sorry, he’s mean, negging, misogyny, reference to past rape/non-con, unresolved trauma, suicidal thoughts duhhh, he calls reader ugly a lot, leon subs for his gf but doms reader, non-con to consensual sex, manipulation, some .. uh waterboarding? he dunks your head in water, opioid addiction but it’s minor LMFAOO
note. haii… um feedback whether it’s good or bad appreciated really forced myself to write this so im like ack. hating everything i write but! ignore typos :3 it’s not as fleshed out as i wanted .. soooo it reads pretty jolty but yah 😭 and the smut is like not. IDK I’m ugh not into it just couldn’t bring myself to extend stuff that I really wanted to develop n he’s ooc. BUT!! again ignore typos or I’ll cry n feedback/constructive criticism appreciated <3
Leon has a girlfriend. He can never hold down a girl, his ability to scare women away is preternatural, so it’s a big deal. And she’s fucking hot. Not like model hot, but pornstar hot. She’s got tits so firm they might as well be bulletproof. Bottle blonde with eyes that swallow up her whole face. Her stomach doesn’t crease when she sits. It’s the type of beauty that takes its form in slashes of red lace and nylon. Not many women are out of his league, but she is.
They have hot sex like attractive people tend to do, and it goes something along the lines of this.
He goes:
Is that dick good, baby? You like it? Right there, baby?
And she goes:
Fuck, yes, baby! Harder, deeper— Oh, right there!
And then she doesn’t cum.
So there’s that, but he’s working on it.
Leon doesn’t take well to tips on how to fuck. Reading advice columns in the Men’s Health magazine leaves a funny taste in his mouth. It might be the blood from the castrated image of his masculinity. Who knows.
He struggles with that sort of thing. A nice face does nothing for a man who doesn’t actually like anything about himself. Leon’s still that wimpy self-hating loser he was all those years ago. In all fairness to God, there are a few added tweaks here and there. Some bug fixes. Now he’s drunk and shallow too! Misanthropic when he’s at his very best.
As a kid, mom told Leon to be a nice boy so he was a nice boy. Not because he was ever a particularly nice boy, but for her sake. So instead of acting out he would go and crush ants beneath his thumb in the front yard because there is this mean part of Leon that splinters inside of him like cooked bones.
Life to Leon is being fucked into apologising for being alive so it’s no wonder he’s still harbouring the insecurities of a boy he isn't.
When he was eighteen it was by ugly old men who abhorred him for being the embodiment of whatever it was they were hiding from their wives. His legs looked nice thrown over a pair of big shoulders. They were so thin back then, model-type shit. All of those men mildly resembled his dad, but that’s something he wouldn’t quite like to crack down on yet. Leon’s being open enough as it is.
When he was twenty-one it was his headache of a first girlfriend. It was the bullet wound in his shoulder. When he was twenty-two it was being passed around boot camp like a dirty needle. When he was twenty-seven it was Luis who was nothing and everything in between. It was a picture book princess like Ashley. The scar on his shoulder. Stigmata. Glory Be. Whatever.
(And Jack, it was always Jack. Pale all over like a healed scar.)
What Leon is trying to get across, he’s not quite sure. Maybe that he's nice in theory and the reality is he’s a self-confessed charlatan of niceness. Or that he can’t fuck. He can’t fuck because he is deeply traumatised. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say. It’s an excuse, sure, doesn’t make it the truth though. Leon can’t fuck ‘cause he’s useless at most things that don’t include guns. He can’t fuck ‘cause he was unattractive as a teenager and that solidified the way he feels about himself now.
Leon’s got one thing going for him - he fingers her pussy till his fingers prune. Eats her out till he gets lockjaw.
“Oh, you’re so good at that,” she says, kissing his slicked-up lips.
Then her eyes flit to his hard dick and she gives him that strange half-smile. One that seems to say: Not with that. His dick. Obviously.
His shit is big enough, it’s long enough— It’s enough. And it’s pretty. Could put a bow on to make it real cute. Could manufacture a dildo inspired by it. So Leon cannot for the life of him wrap his head around her problem. It’s not his dicks fault her pussy is fucking broken. Her broken pussy doesn’t get to make his dick sad. Doesn’t get to lay devastating blows on his gone-with-the-wind ego.
Another thing is, her sister is an ugly bitch. That upsets Leon and his dick in tow. You’re a student, taking a break for some reason Leon has not bothered to fathom. He couldn’t care less. Go do it someplace else. In this house, you’re nothing more than a cockblock. Leon could forgive you for being a cockblock if you weren’t ugly. Or vice versa.
It would be okay if Leon wasn’t stuck at home with you for hours at a time. Work fucked up his back, so he’s staying here in his girlfriend’s apartment eating her food, running her taps, fucking her badly and shitting on her sister.
You’re sat on the other end of the table with a soggy bowl of cereal while he nurses a juice box like a real man. What do ugly little things like you think about anyway?
When Leon was ugly he thought about forcing his dick into the cute girl next door between his more regular thoughts of what to eat for dinner and whether he stocked up on toilet paper or not.
When he was ugly, his day was made simply by a pretty girl looking in his general direction. So Leon makes sure to look in yours. Y’know, to fuel your perverted wet dreams. Your rape fantasies. What freaks think about when they’re near hot guys. Well, it’s strange actually. You tend to totally ignore him. When the two of you make brief eye contact, you don’t flounder or duck or bow your head like you’re shy— You just move on with your life. That bothers him. Leon’s hot now. He’s not the type of man you just brush over like that. He’s the type you gawk at in broad daylight, he’s the sort of guy you see in soft porn magazines.
“Good morning,” his girlfriend greets, “have a good sleep, sweetie?” She bumps your hip when you stand up to hug her.
She’s wearing stockings today. Oh, he loves stockings. He loves pencil skirts. He loves— He loves office wear. He wants to be put over her lap and spanked raw perhaps.
“Yeah, it’d be nice if your boyfriend stopped moaning like a girl though.” It’s said into her ear, but Leon hears it.
“I’m going now, honey,” his girlfriend tells him.
Like a good boy, Leon stands to bid her goodbye. Her blouse is sheer, shows off her black bra and he eyes it with distaste.
“What’s wrong, Leon?”
He doesn’t speak. Just glares at her perfect set of tits like a baby weaned off milk.
“I can’t take them off,” she snorts.
Leon wishes she could. Hang ‘em up in the closet and pop them back on when it’s time to play. Tits are for the bedroom. Otherwise, they’re too much of a distraction. Instead, he settles on slipping his hand up her skirt to check if she’s wearing panties. (There’s no panty line showing through her pencil skirt and that’s always a bad sign.) She shoos him away.
So Leon leans in for a kiss, and she says, “Nuh-uh, honey, you’ll ruin my makeup.” Then she gives in ‘cause Leon can be kinda cute when he tries hard enough. “Just one, okay?”
“Yeah.” Leon nods. Her kisses are analgesic. Which is unfortunate considering he has an opioid addiction. Almost an addiction.
“One,” she counts, Leon kisses her again, “two, three, four.”
She’s teasing him now.
“Okay, well, keep an eye on her, Leon.”
“I’m not twelve,” you say, exiting the kitchen to spare yourself the sight of him groping your older sister.
Yeah, and Leon’s not a bang nanny.
He wipes the red from his lips, takes his juice box from the table where you’re no longer and decides jerking off in the shower will make him feel better. Leon does. He finishes. Watches his seed wash down the drain and wonders if that was wasteful. A short intermission is taken, then he jerks off in front of her full-body mirror. His biceps flex and his abs tighten, and he looks fucking good.
Why isn’t she cumming? What’s wrong with her? Is she getting too old? Is menopause hitting already? She’s only thirty-something. It can’t be that, and she asked Leon to pick up tampons last week— Unless they were for you.
Nobody in this house tells Leon anything. Another shower is what he needs. No, he needs a smoke. Leon doesn’t smoke. He does the next best thing, rests idly against the railings of her balcony, observing the ballet of D.C. life. Man, he could throw himself over right now. Splat against the asphalt and that would be it. It’d all be over. Hauling his weight over would be no problem. Catastrophizing to pass the time. Men used to do this for a living in Ancient Greece. What happened to philosophising? Leon could be a philosopher, all they did was spout nonsense and he is good at that. Not at fucking, however.
Beer. Yeah. Beer. That’s what he needs. Leon ransacks the fridge to no avail. Health-conscious living is the reason for misery, he believes. See, very insightful, modern-day Socrates right here. Lean proteins, vegan substitutes, low-fat yoghurt— It’s so girly it makes him sick.
“She’s still on a health kick,” you say from behind him, “I thought it was a New Years thing, but she’s still, like, super into it.”
Why are you talking to him? Leon blinks at you owlishly. “Right,” he says.
You give him a funny look, turning back to the counter to use the coffee machine. Don’t you want him? You’re not shy. Why aren’t you shy? Shouldn’t you be shy? Ugly Leon was mute around girls whether they were short, fat, ugly or pretty. Shit, he is clucking for a beer.
“There's Chardonnay under the sink.” Well, that’s unhelpful.
“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t drink that.” He would like to finish his sentence off with ‘girly shit’ but you seem like the type to find that offensive.
“Figured.” The coffee machine whirs. A lobotomised silence ensues. “Good talk.”
You’re so ugly you’re asking for it. Perfect subject for the ‘I can’t make my girlfriend cum, is her pussy broken?’ experiment. Ugly girls don’t count as a fuck, right? Not when they’re sent to the very back of your mind after said fuck. He wonders how many girls counted the uglier him as an official lay.
You’re on your tummy reading a book. The Beautiful and Damned. Leon had no idea they wrote a book about him. The door creaking exposes his creeping against his will.
“Do you need something?” you ask without batting an eye.
The swell of your ass is nice. “Uh, yeah, I do.”
Rolling over and sitting up to face him, you tilt your head to the side. “Go on.”
“I want to have sex with you.” Woah. Okay. That’s a genie he can’t put back in the bottle. Fuck, why does he do this stupid shit? Leon should just kill himself. All roads lead to suicide. Every sign points towards suicide and he is still holding on for dear life.
Think about Sherry. Sherry won’t care, kids hit sixteen and don’t give a fuck about much, he reasons with the voice in his head. How about Claire? Oh, she’ll think good fucking riddance. Redfield? No way. You are truly out of options, Kennedy.
“I’m sorry?”
Oh, god no, Leon’s the one that should be sorry. “You heard me.” The apology comes out incredibly wrong. “I’m helping you out.”
“Helping me out with what? I’m sorry, Leon, I didn’t… I didn’t think I— I don’t know what made you think I wanted this from you, but I don’t like you—“
You don’t like him? Why not? He’d like a list of reasons with a page-long explanation. What’s not to like? The hair. It’s the hair. Blond is too girly. That’s what it is.
“—I mean, you’re with my sister, did you really think I would say yes? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused, where is this coming from? Gosh, I really… I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m helping you out,” Leon repeats, using his hands to gesture at your face, at your body. “No one else is gonna do it.” This apology has gone way out of bounds. A simple sorry would have sufficed.
“What..?” Something doleful crosses your face, then it twists unpleasantly. “You think I want to have sex with you… ‘cause I’m not cute? Like, you think I’m…”
Ugly, yes. He does. Only a little. Can you turn over? He wants to make you cum. “You’re a virgin, yeah?”
“Oh my god, there’s, like, something wrong with you!” You stand to your full height in a pitiful attempt to appear frightening. That face is enough to scare a man away already. “Get out— And I am so telling her when she gets back home, I told her I didn’t like you, I told her and now you just-“
Leon grabs you by the jaw, squeezes you so tight it clicks. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s how this is going to go,” he starts, taking both your wrists in a single hand, “we’re going to start over, and you’re going to be a good little girl and apologise to me like you really mean it.”
“Apologise for what?” It comes out muffled through your forced pout so he chooses to ignore you.
“I don’t know what you fuckin’ said.” Leon should just end it here, he should let go of you and check into the nearest asylum. He’s hot. Leon is box blond. He’s tall enough to dwarf most girls. His face is nice. His body is nicer. So he doesn’t know what his problem is. Once pinned down, you shrink away from him, expression so sour your skin looks ready to melt off your skull.
And then he fucks you till you stop screaming. He leaves you in a withered heap, heads back to his room to take a well-deserved nap, hides his face in the pillows. They smell like her. He should think about killing himself some more. That gun looks awfully shiny. Nth time could be the charm.
She gets home in the evening, drops her bag on the floor to alert him of her entrance.
“I missed you.” Leon noses at her neck.
“You were sleeping.” She ruffles his hair like he’s a child.
“I still missed you.”
“Even when you’re sleeping?”
In the least creepy way possible, he wants to wear her skin as a suit, and she thinks his body doesn’t yearn for her at every sleeping second?
“The most when I’m sleeping, have bad dreams without you,” Leon mumbles groggily.
“How cute,” she muses, “good day?”
“Great day.” Leon nods. “Real productive.”
“Oh yeah? What’d you get up to?” A singular red nail strokes along his spine.
“Thought about you,” he answers, leaving out the part where he spent half of his time jerking off. Oh, and the part where he fucked her sister into submission. He raped you. He did. Leon doesn’t like that word. Far too harsh.
“Now, don’t push it, mister.” When she smiles there’s a lack of wrinkles— Not even smile lines, it’s artificial almost.
Leon’s good at pushing buttons. He should get paid for it. “It’s true, if you said jump I’d ask how high.”
“You’re so funny, Leon.” She kisses his head and laughs all prim and proper.
“Serious, babe, I’m super partial to jumping,” he says to hear her laugh again. He’s more partial to suicide. It’s great. A one-way ticket off of God’s green inferno. Who would he even be without suicide ideation?
“Alright, but I’d like you all in one piece.” She kisses his cheek. “No jumping, okay, honey?” She kisses his neck and his collarbones and his Adam’s apple and he’s unable to breathe.
“Okay,” Leon says. He gets it now. She’s mommying him. Maybe this is what Leon needs. To play house. A daddy to fuck his throat and a mommy to sit on his dick and tell him that he’s a good boy and he’s needed and he won’t have to think if he has a mommy and daddy to do that for him.
Can he backtrack on the rape thing? Trust Leon to take a good thing and ruin it in the worst way possible. If he kissed you he could’ve wormed his way out of it. Told her it was the medication he’s on, that he had a mental breakdown, a midlife crisis.
At dinner, your silence slips under the radar like cumstains on motel bedsheets. You pick at your food, and when Leon’s knee brushes yours under the table, you excuse yourself. Sometimes he thinks that he is a bad person, this can be backed up by many things. Violating you might outweigh saving the world.
In bed, he thinks about changing, about calling his therapist in the morning, he might take a leap off that balcony, cleaning up his act sounds terribly hard. Leon does this all with his head tucked into the hollow of his girlfriend’s neck. The thinking has killed his boner and now he can’t get it up. So he pretends to fall asleep. It’s an unconvincing performance ‘cause the moment she swipes a hand over his ass he lets out a disgruntled noise. Leon clenches so quickly his stomach caves in.
“You don’t like that, honey?”
He shakes his head, overgrown bangs falling in his eyes. Leon has a nice ass. It’s no wonder she wants to touch it, leg presses have done him wonders, but still, it’s off-limits. She can’t sweet talk her way into this anytime soon.
“Why, Leon?” She’s cupping his ass like he’s a girl. Leon’s not a girl. “You’d look so cute.”
“No,” he whines, and it sounds kind of sexy. He gets it. He can see the appeal.
“I think you just need some encouragement, baby.” She’s taking him apart like a gun. Folding him like laundry. Milks his prostate so well he sleeps like a baby. Not even a shadow of an orgasm to be seen from her side.
She leaves early the next morning and he’s left alone to ruminate. What he finds out today is that you’re pretty diligent at sucking dick when forced.
Leon thinks he would like to break you in a way that only he can fix.
He pushes your head down on his dick till your lips are stretched so far they split at the corners, you gag wetly each time the fat tip knocks the back of your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin.
“Aww, look at you,” Leon coos, “little girl taking big things.”
Fat tears well in your eyes, a faint tremor betrays your effort to hold them back, a single blink and they roll down your cheeks like dewdrops. It might be the dick lodged in your throat, pulsing under your tongue— Yeah, no, it’s his dick in your mouth. That’s why you're upset. No other reason for it. Leon finds you a little ungrateful. A lot of women would pay for this, to drain his balls. Hell, your sister loves to do it.
“One at a time, sweetheart,” he says as he guides you to his balls, “can’t have you choking, can we?” You look up at him blankly. Leon thought he was funny and that’s all that matters. “Go on, spit on ‘em, get me nice and wet.” The drool pooling beneath your tongue drizzles his balls in clear strings, his drippy tip bumps the bridge of your nose, rests comfy on your brow ridge.
You’re struggling real bad. He’ll take it as a compliment. The thing is, you refuse to just lick them, pulling off each ball with a wet pop! and a dry cough. Leon starts to zone out so he shoves you off and quite pathetically, you fall flat on your back.
“You didn’t shave,” Leon notes in distaste, he was going to do you a favour too.
“No— Not for you.” You squirm like a fish on the docks when he hovers over you.
“Not for me, right.”
“Anyone but you.”
“You're not gonna do it for anyone, sweetheart, know why?” Leon clicks his tongue when you dodge his kiss, twisting your neck to keep a distance.
“Why?”
“No one else wants you,” he states, “you’re lucky that I want you.”
“Well, that’s not true.” You’re stubborn amongst all your other undesirable traits.
Leon scoffs. “What, so you ever had a boyfriend?” He runs his index finger along your slit. Bone dry. Serious? He assumes you’re still sore from yesterday.
“That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Don’t get mad at me, honey, I’m just helping you out.” Leon spits on your pussy, then on his thick cock for good measure, jerks his shaft and presses a thumb to his tip to guide it into you. Your lips fold inwards around him as he breaches your tiny hole. There’s too much resistance for it to be a smooth sailing journey, and you’re new to cock, cunt pushing him out as your body tenses. “I’m being nice to you, so you should say thank you.”
“Oh, god,” you mutter, brows knit in what might be pain or pleasure.
“Yeah, that’s what you’re calling me now?” The look you give him is priceless, small hands settling on his chest as you push at him weakly. “No, baby, you don’t get to do that.” Leon bottoms out, he rolls his hips forward to grind the head of his dick into your cervix, the fleshly opening moulds to his tip and you cry out. He can never tell if you’re enjoying it.
Leon sticks his fingers in your mouth to coat them in spit, you retch and he rubs figure eights on your clit, only then does your cunt loosen up its hold on him. It’s a quick process, the quicker he rubs you raw, the wetter you get, biting down on your tongue to keep quiet, but low groans slip past your cracked lips.
“Oh, there we go, baby, that’s it,” Leon coos, his cock slicked up by your wet pussy, sliding in and out with ease. His hips snap forward, forcing himself deeper into your messy little pussy, so wet you’re dripping down his balls, wetness stuck to your inner thighs.
“Fuck— I can’t, I can’t do it, ‘s too big,” you whimper, a hand slipping between your bodies to lay on your stomach. What you don’t understand is that he is big, yeah, but your pussy just needs to be broken in. Like a new pair of shoes.
“You’re doing it, baby,” Leon says, ‘cause you are doing it. You’re taking it. Body going rigid with each brutal thrust into your sopping wet hole. Whether you can take it or not isn’t for you to decide anyway. “I’m going to stuff your little pussy full,” he tells you.
“No,” you choke out, scratching at his chest, nails too blunt to do any sort of damage. Thank fuck. His girlfriend would go nuts.
It’s a satisfying victory, he covers your mouth to concentrate all his energy into this creampie, fills you to the brim, seed thick enough to stick to your insides. The original aim of his ‘experiment’ is forgotten, Leon doesn’t care if you cum or cry or pass out on his dick.
“I’m tellin’ her when she comes home.” Your threat is weak. He feared the consequences of yesterday, but you said nothing.
“You’re not telling her, you like me too much,” Leon decides, “I know you do, baby.”
“I don’t like you at all.” Your bottom lip trembles, fists balled up by your sides. The contempt only turns him on.
“No, but I think you know I’m right, don’t you?” No one else wants you, and you know that. Leon knows you know that. He’s the only one that is ever going to fuck you.
“Right about what? You’re a fucking psycho— I could get you locked up, I should get you locked up.”
“You should, so what're you waiting for?” If you did report him, Leon would just kill himself, going to prison sounds like a bore. “I think, sweetheart, that secretly, you really like it when I rape you.”
And your silence proves him right.
That report never comes. Duh. You love his dick. You like being roughed up. You know you’re deserving of it. Jesus Christ, Leon needs to call his shrink. Honestly, being around you is hard. It’s like his guilty conscience has developed a human body, shambling around the apartment in the shape of a malformed ghost girl, reminding him of the shit he’s said and done to you. You’re spinning in his necrosed brain like one of those music box ballerinas.
“Leon, be a doll and do me up,” his girlfriend is facing away from him, the smooth skin of her back and shoulders bared to him.
Leon only hears the ‘do me’ part, kissing the nape of her neck, reaching round to grab at her fat tits. “I love you…”
“I love you too, baby, but what do you think you’re doing?”
Leon makes a motion with his fingers, she sees it in the mirror.
“What is that, sign language?”
“No, I want to finger you.”
“Oh, well, that’s lovely, baby, but it’s not the time for that. I asked you to zip me up, Leon.” He zips her up while wondering how she can be so unaffected by him being so stupid.
“Hey, are you ready to go?” You knock on the door, you keep hiding your face from him today. His girlfriend said it’s ‘cause you have makeup on. Apparently that changes things. It’s sort of cute. Like, are you shy? You should be shy.
“Oh, no one likes cliffhangers, honey,” she says, forcing you to swap out some open-toe sandals for a pair of her heels. “Okay, Leon, I’ve left your dinner in the fridge, yes?”
Yes, mommy. “Yeah, babe.”
“And there’s snacks in the cupboard now, oh, and don’t use the tap water, it tastes strange so I stocked up— Leon, will you stop doing that with your jaw?”
Sorry, mommy. “Sorry, babe.”
“He’s totally fucking gurning,” you inform her in a way that screams playground snitch. He’ll choke you out for that.
“Gurning, what’s that?” His girlfriend asks cluelessly. This bitch is in her early thirties, Leon has no idea why she acts fifty. Whatever, it’s hot, he gets a girl with all the traits of an older lady without the sagging.
“Like, y’know, ‘cause he’s on meds.” What a little shit. Is this you getting back at him? Some petty fucking act of revenge? Getting his medication taken away from him by his health freak girlfriend?
“Medication? I didn’t know about this, Leon.” She looks at him like he’s killed her mother. Or raped her sister. If only she knew.
“Yeah, for my back, my back hurts, babe— Th-That’s why I’m on leave. My back hurts.” What a compelling act. Totally not a dude that’s two minutes away from injecting black tar heroin.
“Who prescribed them, a doctor or a vet?” You cock your head to the side. Fine. You fucking got him.
“Same thing.” Leon shrugs.
She makes him empty the bedside desk of pills. “Leon, good boys don’t do this. We don’t take drugs in this household, let me take them off your hands.”
“They’re- Babe, they’re not drugs, they’re for my back— I hurt my back.” Granted, his back stopped aching a few days back, he’s just taking advantage of the break. Also, he’s not a child.
“Your back, honey, I know it hurts.” She waves him off. “We can fix it, huh? I can book you in for acupuncture or cupping— Oh, what about a chiropractor?”
“Fine,” Leon says, voice cracking, watching in devastation as she takes his pills in a black garbage bag.
“Bye, Leon, see you later, honey.” She blows him a kiss and he catches it. He has to catch it.
“Yeah, bye, Leon!” You wave at him, looking happier than you have in days.
The door opens an hour later and Leon takes his hand out of his pants. You stand in front of him with red eyes and messy makeup. Leon, being the gentleman he is, takes you into his arms and rubs your back to soothe you as he tells you, more than a little cruel, I fucking told you so.
At least now you know that some guys aren’t as nice as Leon. Some men will spit in your face without considering how tight your pussy is, they won’t even think about how good your tits look in that push-up bra. See? That’s what the real world is like.
The bath fills as he bends you over the sofa. You’re prettier from behind, dress hiked up, soaked panties around your ankles. His hand smooths down the front of your stomach to cup your puffy cunt, prodding at your swollen clit. You shaved. Funny. Thought you were going to get a dick that wasn’t his.
Leon kneels, he spreads your ass cheeks to lick into your pussy from behind, tongue lapping up the beads of arousal that dribble down the seam of your cunt like sticky honey. He laps at your hole and you arch your back to push into him, his tongue fucking your pussy so well, sloppy sounds fill his ears.
“Been wanting to do this,” Leon says into your cunt, tongue making its way back up the centrefold of your fat pussy, he blows spit bubbles on your clit and then he nips at it until you cry out, startled by the jolt of pain. His dick kicks in his sweats. You taste good to make up for that face of yours.
You cream in his mouth so sweetly, toes curling against the wooden floor. Leon wipes his mouth on his forearm, then he wraps it around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. In his chest, his heart flutters when you press a delicate kiss to his bicep. He feels it and you can’t unfeel that.
“I’m sorry, Leon,” you get out through shaky moans as he sandwiches his shaft between your chubby pussy lips, bumping the tip into your clit as his hips move back and forth. “I’m sorry… Didn’t know-“
“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses behind your ear. “It’s alright ‘cause you know now, huh?”
“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, tilting your head so it rests on his broad chest, he gives your pout some wet kisses.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm, baby?” Leon nudges you with his nose.
Your idea of cleaning up might be far from what Leon’s is. He doesn’t think you were expecting something so extreme. But it’s for thinking you’re worth something— For thinking that anyone else would do as little as touch you. It’s to wash off that pitiful attempt at makeup.
He bends you in half over the tub. Your tits hang low enough to be squashed against the edge painfully as Leon dunks your head into lukewarm water. Holy shit. Tomorrow will be the day he overdoses. Why is he doing this?
A strangled noise passes your lips as he lets up, and you re-emerge, Leon wipes a hand over your face to rid you of the streaky mascara and sticky gloss.
“There we go, sweetheart, nice and clean.” He presses the tip into your leaking cunt, it catches on your hole, and you flail, water spilling over the edge, surface tension broken as it ripples.
Honest to god, Leon hasn’t fucked a pussy tighter than yours, and when he holds you beneath the surface? Man, you might deglove his dick. He works his cock into you, and when he’s balls deep in your sloppy cunt, Leon allows you to lift your head to which you pant and gasp and cough. All the shit a drowning person does when they’re tossed a lifesaver.
Your body sags, hanging limp with only Leon to hold you up as he roughly fucks in and out of your poor hole, heavy balls slapping against your skin.
“I love you, Leon,” you tell him, rubbing at your stinging nose with your fist, pussy tightening when he pinches your throbbing clit.
“Aw, do you, baby? You love me?” Leon laughs, the mean smile on his face hidden in your shoulder, “That’s so cute.” He rocks back and forth, shallow thrusts that are more for him than they are for you, rabbiting his dick into your squelching pussy until his balls pulse and his shaft twitches inside of you. “Real— Real fuckin’ cute,” he grits out as he buries himself to the hilt, shooting his load in your willing little pussy.
“I think so,” you whimper, thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach snaps and you coat his cock in your slick. Hey, his dick isn't a problem then.
Leon thinks about calling his shrink. The bad shit he does won’t fix itself like he wants. “Clean up,” he tells you, looking at the wet ground. The soaked rug. Your face.
“What… Leon, where are you going?” You use your palms to mop the excess water from your face. “Seriously, Leon? I just… I told you that…”
He has things to do - Leon’s going to call his shrink and very promptly throw himself over the balcony when she doesn’t answer his call.
#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy angst#leon s kennedy smut#resident evil x you#resident evil angst#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut
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Day 1 - Helpless
@febuwhump day 1!!!
CW: Mean caretaker (who is caretaking against his will), said caretaker making whumpee cry, multiple mentions of drug abuse, one mention of broken glass, one mention of broken bones, little hints of classism and ableism, annoyance at whumpee's fidgeting.
Notes: Top ten men who break the Hippocratic oath by being fucking losers. Happy Febuwhump Day 1!!!! As this challenge continues, I may link related stories together. For those who are new, welcome to the hellscape!
***
They’re still awake. Of course they’re still awake.
And sure, Seiah may be a medic, clinically certified and all, but hell if it means he can’t be pissed off at Felic Fucking DiMaggio.
“You got percs?” That idiot, the little whiny rat quietly digging a hole into the sofa cushion, hadn’t talked in almost fifteen minutes, which Seiah had hoped meant they’d be falling back into half-sleep soon enough. No such luck.
“No,” he snaps, hazel eyes tinged with streaks of insomnia roll up at them over his laptop. “Forty minutes and you can have more meds. I’m trying to study.”
Back to silence. Or almost— he swear he can hear threads ripping with every quiet tap of Felic’s fingernails against the seam. Just because it’s an old couch doesn’t mean anything. Just because they’re a 'friend' doesn’t mean anything.
“Do you need a stress ball or something?” He’s trying to be nice. He really is.
“You got one?” They still sound seconds from crying, or maybe that’s just the city drawl, thick in the back of their nose like they’ll hack it up with a hairball. They sound sick, look sick, they always look sick. Sick when they’re tweaking in meetings and sick now, bits of glass and two fractures in their leg and still they’re acting like they’re using every little scheming wrinkle in their brain to act normal. Not normal; something worse. Someone competent, or well-off, or anything other than a leech tagging along with the Rift Guard to seem like a savior.
And they reek like burning plastic.
He digs through his desk drawer. “Best I’ve got is a box of paperclips.” It leaves his hand with a rattle, a tinny sound that makes Felic twitch their head with a grimace, as the box hits their leg and falls into the cushion divot. They seem to paw it like a cat. “I can check the bedroom, but I need Gabe to rest…” he trails off.
“Nah, ‘s fine, ‘s fine.” They’ve maneuvered into some other horribly contorted position, leg still dangling off the couch like something dead. He hopes they’re content. He swears, if they’re not… but no, now it’s back to his pediatrics assignment, back to… reading this same section, again, and...
Holy fucking shit.
They’re using the paperclips. To pick at the fucking couch.
“No. No, you know what? Screw this.” Maybe it’s that stupid ugly couch, or his own lack of sleep, or how disgustingly pitiful they look in an oversized hoodie and bandages down an entire pale, skinny leg. “Done studying. Not even gonna try. Is that what you wanted? You want my attention? Gonna keep me up another three fucking hours because your tummy hurts when I don’t let you take every pill in this city?”
Maybe he should’ve thought that through more. Maybe, but it’s too late. Sue him. If this bitch wakes up Gabe, if they disrupt the final second of peace anywhere in this world at all—
They’re crying. No, no, no.
Shit, they’re crying.
“Felic.” His whisper-yells get more frantic. “Felic. Felic. Felic, hey, no, Felic, I’m sorry, I didn’t, I’m just tired, we’re all tired, Felic please,” out of his chair and onto the ground in front of them, they’re shaking like a leaf, no sounds but little sob-hiccups as their hands twist and wring themselves in their sleeves. They really are some helpless little thing, a pigeon stuck in a storm drain. “Look at me, look, I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at you. Calm down, calm down, just, I didn’t even do anything Felic, please just do this for me please…”
A knock at the door. Gabe.
“What’s going on?” His voice is rough with sleep, hair falling in curls over his eyes. And Seiah loves him, he loves him so much, but the look on his face when he sees Felic. As if they deserve it. As if the rat deserves any of this. “Did they have a nightmare?”
“They were never asleep at all, actually, which is—“
The glare Gabe gives him shuts him up quick.
“You need to give them space.” He motions Seiah away, impatient yet calm, locking eyes with the hairball having a breakdown on the couch.
“No, listen, everything’s fine.”
“Clearly it’s not,” he retorts, still as calm as ever. “Go get some rest, Seiah, I’ve got this.”
“We need to talk about this later.”
“Yes. Later. Shh,” he motions, and now he’s back to Felic, and it’s like Seiah isn’t here at all. Is this what his fucking job at the Rift Guard is? Keeping the rats on a leash?
Well, there’s no reason to stay here anyways. Seiah rises to his feet, computer abandoned, boyfriend preoccupied with a little bitch.
Whatever. It’s not even a nice couch anyways.
He shuts the door.
#febuwhump#febuwhumpday1#helpless#whump#whump challenge#original writing#mean caretaker#broken bones tw#bad caretaker#substance abuse tw#ableism tw#felic dimaggio#seiah lanelle#gabriel harano
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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter II.
gif credit / @azertyrobaz
PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character
SUMMARY: Javier is slowly beginning to realize that monotony isn't as bad as he initially thought…
WORD COUNT: 9.4k
RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.
CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: Mutual pining, mentions of masturbation, they really wanna fuck each other, that good slowburn angst, lots of smoking, southern gothic vibes are strong with this one, if you love worldbuilding then this is the fic for you, mentions of a religion, mentions of sex workers, dbf!Javier Peña because I have no self control.
DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Lexi, my beloved, who has been a BIG help in helping me figure out this crazy ass story. Love you bestie, I don't know where I'd be without you < 3 I am… so obsessed with these two and the little universe they live in… *muffled screaming* I hope everyone reading so far is having a good time because I know I am! I've got a lot in store for this pairing, and if you're a fan of the horror/thriller aspect of this plot there's a lot comin' your way ;) Anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback on this blog < 3
♰ read on ao3. ♰
♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰
It’s an extraordinarily warm day, which isn’t uncommon for the area however it’s the type of warm that reminds her that summer is just around the corner.
It’s Paloma’s favorite season. While the Seminary heat was unforgiving as all hell; she loves the way the sun feels against her skin, the thin layer of sweat that clings to her gives her the perfect glow and nothing beats cooling down by the creek. The town is also much more lively during the season, too, since tourists heading west often take a rest stop in Seminary.
It’s how she gathers most of her summer weekend crowd. People who do not expect this drive through town to be as charming as it is. While small, it has a community actively keeping it thriving. The businesses that line the streets of their downtown all owned by families who have been here for decades. A lot of love has been poured into their settlement, and while most of the time Paloma feels suffocated by the repetitiveness of her days, she’ll always have a soft spot in her heart for her hometown.
She’s become the performer that she is by staying here. Her shows at The Whiskey Fox have been the perfect training grounds for her to get a comfortable grasp on her stage presence, which aside from singing, is the most important thing about being a musician. An aspiration that she keeps to herself, mostly, just telling those who ask that she’s doing this ‘singing thing’ as a hobby. That her ‘real job’ would be going full time at the library.
That is her plan, the future she damns herself with. As quick-witted and rambunctious as Paloma can be; she’s still not valiant enough to take control of her own life.
Instead, she’s at the beck and call of her father’s.
It is much easier this way, she justifies it to herself like that all the time. If she goes out into the world, pursues her want to be a musician; there’s a chance that she fails and has to return home with her tail tucked between her legs like a shameful dog. At least staying here in Seminary provides her with a stability to keep her content for the rest of her life.
But would she really be content? Would she regret not trying and potentially not even failing?
Paloma bikes the familiar path from her house down into town, woven bag with her belongings in the basket that’s zip tied to the front of the bicycle she’s had since she was in high school. There’s a small grocery list and an even smaller to-do list accompanying her things; a brown paper bag with her father’s lunch also tossed in there.
When Darla, her 1970 Buick Electra , officially died on her; she hated having to bike everywhere. Her father was able to take her places whenever he could, but most of the time it was just Paloma and her bike against the world.
The sheriff even made the suggestion of sending one of the deputies to escort her wherever she pleased, but Paloma despised the idea of having an officer always following her around. So after a few awkward car rides to and from town; she decided it’d be more convenient for her to bike it until further notice. The only time she requests an escort is after a closing shift at the library or a show at the bar.
The most peaceful part of the trek is riding over the abandoned railroad tracks near the old train station. Something about the scenery; being surrounded by the lush forest with nothing but her and her thoughts for miles and miles is very comforting to Paloma, so whenever she arrives at this little landmark of hers, she makes a point to stop and soak it all in.
On days like this, where she doesn’t have much to do; she stays for a while.
Paloma approaches the familiar tracks, stopping entirely and propping her bicycle against a nearby tree. She pops a Linda Ronstadt CD into her portable player, the headphones slipping over her ears as she approaches the tracks. The sound of the gravel crunching beneath her boots is muffled out by the soft country tunes that begin to play. Paloma sits right on the track, a little unorthodox but she doesn’t care. Using her bag as a makeshift pillow, she lays flat and looks up at the sky until her eyes shut close; sighing wistfully as she slips away into another world entirely.
She has been struggling to finish any of her music lately, inspiration lackluster to the point where she’s had to revert to covering songs instead of performing original material at The Whiskey Fox . It is frustrating, to say the least, especially when she knows she is more than capable of writing a good song.
There just hasn’t been much happening that warrants a spark in her passion. No romantic love to pour her heart over, no life-altering event to process with instruments and lyrics. Nothing exciting.
She was in a rut…
That was until a few days ago.
Mind seemingly wanders over to the handsome man that had been in her family home.
Those dark brown, intense eyes that had her flustered any time they made eye contact, the strong cut of his jaw and how it flexed when he spoke, lips that looked so inviting underneath the mustache that she hates she’s so attracted to.
This is the first time any man has left such an impression on Paloma. She giggles softly to herself, remembering how she was harping on her own father for bringing out the fancy scotch in order to impress Javier.
“ Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel. ”
Now she understands why. Aside from being quite the eye candy–– she found herself completely engaged in any conversation he partook in. While he was not a man of many words, the few that he did have had her feeling like a freshman schoolgirl crushing on a senior athlete.
She is particularly interested in the fact that he had lived in Colombia for a better part of however many years; curiosity bubbling anytime he mentioned anything about his time there. She is envious that he has been able to experience a country filled with such culture and ecological beauty, even though she understands that the nature of his job probably didn’t entail to him sightseeing much.
That’s another thing; he was very vague about what his role was down there. All Paloma knows is that he was a DEA agent, responsible for cornering one of the most notorious drug traffickers to exist in the modern world. One thing led to another and now he’s back in the United States as a Deputy Sheriff for a small town in the middle of fuck-knows-where Texas.
It intrigued her to know his backstory and how that led him here. What all he’d done and witnessed, even if it wasn’t any of her business.
She finds it fascinating and it adds a layer of mystique to his persona.
Then her thoughts begin to turn into something more… sinful as she imagines the way his mouth wrapped around the colored end of the cigarette, his fingers flexing around the drinking glass before downing its contents in one swift movement, tongue peering out to lick at his lips. Fuck , her eyes flutter open and she squints slightly as the sun beams down on her. Her skin is warm, just how she likes it, buzzing with excitement at the image of the older man nuzzled in between her thighs, teasing her until she was at his mercy.
She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, fingers slowly trailing down her torso then drumming along the exposed skin of her lower stomach. The thought of moving her digits beneath the fabric of her panties crosses her mind for a split second before she remembers where she is. Not that she would be interrupted at this time of day but she has to have some shame, right? It’s already bad enough that she’s fantasizing about him, no need to fuel that fire by touching herself in plain daylight.
Paloma sits up, removing the headphones from over her ears and twisting her body to reach into her bag as she pulls out her notebook and pencil, a sudden stroke of inspiration striking her.
–––––––––––––––––––
Javier lazily leans back against the leather chair he’s sat in, typical cigarette dangling from his lips as he scans the report in front of him, brows pulled in to a frown as he half ass reads it. He’s only been in Seminary for a week and it hadn’t taken him long to fall into routine.
He gets up early to exercise, finding the time in his day to be able to do that again, eats what he considers a ‘healthy’ breakfast (it’s just toast and eggs… maybe some fruit if he’s really feeling it) then heads to the sheriff’s department. The day drags by until he’s at home again. He spends the evenings glued to his couch, takeout remnants on the table, nursing a beer and watching reruns until he goes to bed.
That is the part he dreads the most. The night time. Javi has always had trouble sleeping, but his time in Colombia only made the insomnia worse. He’ll stare at the ceiling, replaying all his fuck ups over and over until day breaks and soft sunlight seeps into his room.
On the nights where he does manage to fall asleep, it’s restless and doesn’t last very long as he jerks awake from whichever nightmare decides to plague him that night. He has a few that revisit him often, involving Helena and how things ended with her. Others about Carillo and his untimely death.
It is quite a vicious cycle that he has not been able to break himself free from. It was much more easier to get ahold of it back in Colombia where he could go pay for a distraction at a brothel or bury himself in the demanding job.
Here, there isn’t a damn thing he can bury himself in.
Well, there’s one person he’d love to find a distraction in but fucking the sheriff’s daughter just to get some sleep is not the best move for him to make considering he’s trying to be a better person nowadays.
There is barely anything happening at the station. The few deputies employed are constantly out on patrol, which Javi had recently revamped by giving new routes for them to follow. A task he’d conjured out of pure boredom yet left Sheriff Leighton impressed by his proactiveness.
Furthermore, the department is left partially empty with just himself, Romeo and Lorraine holding down the fort.
With no further updates in the ongoing homicide cases; there isn’t much to do. He isn't in the mood to go make small talk with the locals, and he’s already driven and familiarized himself with most of the roads within town limits, so he’s stuck in this building for the time being.
The sheriff had reiterated many times not to expect the same hustling and bustling he experienced back in Bogotá or Medellín. A fact that he knew when coming in, but experiencing it is just so damn grueling.
Instead of going home and bullshitting there, Javier decides to be responsible and help Lorraine reorganize their filing system. It is outdated to all hell and messier than anything he and Murphy could have ever conjured up at the embassy, but in attempts to be a more… responsible person, he tells the front desk clerk to not worry about a thing and that he’d handle it all himself.
He might have gone in over his head, but they’re just files. The tedious task something he is very familiar with. Javi had done his fair share of mindless tasks during his DEA days.
He’s at his desk, an unused one he plucked from the center of the room and moved over into a corner that gave him just a pinch of privacy. Romeo apologized about the lack of space for a private office, but Javi didn’t mind it. Being in an office is stifling; and he enjoys, for the most part, being out in the open.
Also, Lorraine is great company. Very unfortunate that she shares the name with his ex-fiancée.
Javier sets the sheet of paper he’s reread a dozen times down, ashing his cigarette and scratching at his nose with his thumb when he hears the sound of their front door opening.
His eyes lazily trail over to the entrance and an immediate smirk tugs at his lips, crease between his brows disappearing.
Paloma Leighton.
Oh, how he’s been thinking about her since that night he had dinner over at their house. How wrong it is of him to be pining after a woman like her.
It is not that difficult to capture Javier’s attention, he is very self aware in that regard. As long as you were interested; you were pretty much on his radar.
Javier loves women. He loves the way they look, the way they smell. Their soft moans and pants in response to his coaxing, how their nails feel digging into the soft skin of his shoulders as they come down from an intense orgasm.
Can anyone blame him for being so attracted to them all the time? Women are a godsend.
He watches her carefully as she saunters over to his desk that’s on the opposite side to where her father’s office is.
“ Now, Miss Leighton–– to what do I owe this pleasure, hermosa ? ” He asks, taking another drag of his cigarette as he keeps his position leaned back in his chair.
With an air of curiosity, he casts a lingering gaze over her form, his lips moistening involuntarily as he drinks in her presence.
She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts that hug her in all the right places and a halter top with an exposed back. She isn’t wearing a bra so her stiff nipples are prominent against the fabric. The sight gets him stirring below his belt, and he has to keep smoking in order to keep his antsy hands off of her.
“ Take a picture, it’ll last longer. ” She throws the typical line at him with a smirk.
“ I forgot my camera at home. Mind comin’ back to mine, cariño ? I’ll make sure to take the prettiest pictures. ” He ashes the cigarette, flirtatious as ever despite telling himself he was not going to go down this route.
But there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting, right? Especially not when she’s playing into it.
“ Clever, charming and cocky. I’m starting to sense a pattern here, cowboy. ”
“ And what would that pattern be? ”
“ I’m still figuring that out, unfortunately. ” There’s a brief pause, “ Those things’ll kill you. ” Paloma changes the subject entirely, nodding her head towards his nicotine stick.
“ I’m going to die eventually. ” Javier rebuttals and she just hums, honey colored eyes watching as he takes another long drag.
Javi is thankful that Lorraine had left early today. He's certain that this little conversation of there’s would have played out differently had there been a third person in the room.
Maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all and he would have been stuck fantasizing about her like a perverted fool.
“ S’that why you’re here? To criticize me smoking? ” His toned biceps flex as he brings his hands behind his neck, fingers interlocking and cigarette hanging from in between his lips.
“ No, just stopped by to drop off daddy’s lunch before I ran some errands. That man wouldn’t eat if it weren’t for me. ” Now it’s her turn to do the ogling, her gaze traveling from the cigarette to his arms, eyes sparkling down at him.
“ Sheriff isn’t in right now. ” He informs her but something tells him she already knew this. Her brows raise at the news and she shrugs.
“ ‘Course he ain’t. Probably already went down to Carl’s for lunch. I keep tellin’ him his arteries are gonna get all clogged up if all he eats is greasy burgers and beer. ” Javier can sense a hint of irritation in her voice.
“ So just let him. He’s a grown man, M’sure he doesn’t need nor want his daughter looking out for him every second of the day. ” He interjects, watching her carefully as she rolls her eyes.
Her hair is in two neat braids, bangs framing her beautiful face leaving the entirety of her back exposed to him. A few droplets of sweat slowly roll down her spine due to the weather and he imagines himself licking them right up; preferably while he has her bent over his desk.
“ Well if I don’t do it then who will? He’d barely last a week on his own. ” Though she is irritated, Javier catches how she genuinely seems to care for her father so with that, he decides to not meddle in their family business and instead moves on swiftly.
“ You know him better than I do. ” Leaves it at that, finishing his cigarette, “ Heard you got a show comin’ up ” And when he says "heard," what he really means is listening to everyone else rave about the sheriff's daughter's incredible talent and how he simply must attend one of her performances.
That sparkle in her eye glistens brighter at the mention of her show and she nods, “ Yup, ” pops the ‘p’, fiddling with the pens he’s stuffed into his faded DEA mug, her body turned slightly to face him. “ Every Friday and Saturday. Will we be blessed by your presence, Mr. Peña or are you going to hide out in your trailer home all weekend? ” Hearing his surname coming from her has his jaw ticking ever so slightly and he watches her eyes take notice of it.
Paloma likes it.
“ Dunno… gotta check my schedule, querida . Things tend to get crazy ‘round here. Or so I’ve heard. ” Sarcastic banter continues paired with a smug smile.
“ Well… if you do decide to find some time in that busy schedule of yours; the show starts at six both nights. ” And who was he to deny her? Especially as she bats her eyelashes at him, an unspoken way of letting him know she wants to see him there.
The front door bell dings, announcing the arrival of someone new, interrupting the comfortable pause of silence they were sharing.
That someone new is the sheriff, and Paloma immediately rises from her spot on the edge of his desk, making her way to her father. Javier straightens up, picking up the previously discarded sheet and feigning interest in it; but Romeo doesn’t seem to notice a thing. He looks deep in thought.
“ There ya are. I brought you lunch. ” Paloma calls after him but he’s already in his office. She lets out a sigh, looking over her shoulder at Javier whom she catches getting an even better view of her backside.
“ See you around, Mr. Peña . Maybe you should start carrying around that camera of yours. Y’know… to get all them pretty pictures. ” She makes a point to sway her hips as she walks away and he runs his tongue over his front teeth slowly.
This girl is going to get him into trouble.
At least he won’t be so fucking bored anymore.
–––––––––––––––––––
Paloma leaves the building twenty minutes after getting her father to agree to eat the lunch she brought and not go down the street to the local diner. He seemed pretty distant so she didn’t press him like she usually would, instead giving him a peck on the cheek before leaving his office. Her gaze wandered over to the opposite corner, hoping to find Javier sitting in his seat already watching her but he was nowhere to be found.
She felt the slight pang of disappointment in her gut at his absence but she pushed it down, a budding smile at the thought of seeing him at her show.
She doesn't even care that the man is older than her, she’s down bad for him.
Paloma swings her leg over her bicycle, kicking the kickstand inwards and riding down the street towards the farmer’s market until she’s stopped by a familiar voice calling her name.
“ Paloma! ” It’s Sloane, who’s jogging to catch up with her.
Sloane McCarthy is the only best friend that Paloma has ever had. Like, ever .
Growing up, she was a very shy child and only had your typical schoolyard friends, but not any that she would willingly swap secrets with or any of that other stuff girls usually do within their social circles.
After her mother’s death, Paloma became more of a recluse. She didn't maintain a friendship outside of school, instead all her focus and energy was put into her artistry. To her, instruments were her best friends. They would always be there to listen, to help her navigate through her grief alongside coming into her own without a mother to guide her through the trials and tribulations of girlhood.
As lonely as it sounds, it was probably for the best that Paloma chose her musical hobbies to be what got her through the hard times. It allowed her to navigate the creation process at her own pace, figure out her strengths and work on her weaknesses.
She is grateful, however, for the guidance she received from Tammy, Kristy and Lola: the sisters that owned The Whiskey Fox .
They helped fill the void left barren by her mother, Abilene, and were the ones who convinced her to start performing at their bar when she was only fourteen.
Paloma met Sloane a few months ago at the library. She had come in with two other guys whom she can barely remember now, asking her about Seminary’s selection on books about the occult. There are hardly any , she had replied, since this town is too obstinate to allow many sacrilegious books on their library shelves.
Ever since that afternoon, they had hit it off and began to hang out together more regularly. Paloma had even hooked her new friend up with a job at The Whiskey Fox as a bartender.
She stops, steadying herself as the girl hugs her from the side then rounds the bike to stand in front of her.
“ Hey Slo, whatcha up to today? ” Paloma asks, eyeing the book in her friend’s possession before meeting her gaze.
Sloane possesses a striking beauty that captivates all who behold her. Waves of rich brown hair cascade down to her collarbone, framing her face like a halo. Her button nose, perfectly proportioned, adds a charming innocence to her features, while her inviting chocolate-colored eyes shimmer with warmth and depth.
But it's the freckles that truly distinguish Sloane's visage, far more pronounced than Paloma's. They form constellations upon her round face, like tiny stars scattered across a canvas of porcelain skin. And above them, her signature touch: baby blue eyeshadow delicately applied across both eyelids, enhancing the allure of her gaze with a hint of playful elegance.
Paloma found herself being envious of Slo and comparing her beauty to that of her best friend’s; especially when she was the main one being approached whenever they went out.
Not that Paloma cared about male attention, however, she still felt that pang of rejection deep in her belly each time Slo was being hit on while she was left making small talk with the bartender or waitress, depending on where they were.
It wasn’t because she wasn’t attractive, anyone could tell you that Paloma is one of the most beautiful women in town; but more so because of who her father is. Sometimes, men don’t approach her in fear of being shot at by the sheriff. It can be very frustrating, but it does help keep the creeps away.
“ Well… ” She drags out, “ I went to the library to look for ya, but Olsen said you didn’t work today so I’ve just kinda been roamin’ town… hopin’ to run into ya before poppin’ up to your place unannounced. What are you so smiley for? ” Her bubbly and chirpy southern accent reminds Paloma of the bright smile she’s still sporting.
“ Just havin’ a good day, s’all. Why are you lookin’ for me? ” She questions, deciding not to tell Sloane about her infatuation with newly appointed Deputy Sheriff Javier Peña just yet, gaze once more flickering down to the thick book in her grasp.
“ ‘Cause, babygirl, I got the answers to all those existential questions you think up in that pretty little head of yours. ” Shows off the printed work, “ Right here. Got a sec? ” She asks but with the look Sloane gives her, Paloma knows she can’t say no.
So they situate themselves on a nearby bench, Paloma’s bicycle propped up against the backside of it. Sloane turns to her, their knees knocking against each other as she begins to explain.
“ Ya know my friend August? He wrote that poem I showed you a few weeks ago… the one that had your face as red as a ripe tomato. ” She pokes fun at her friend, pinching her thigh which Paloma swats away playfully.
“ It was more explicit than anticipated, but yes I know who you’re talkin’ about. Didn’t he come in with you that one day? In the library? ” She just barely remembers him, since he hadn’t said much; just browsed the shelves with the other guy as Slo did all the talking.
“ Sure did! Well, he’s written a few books, none of them published…. they’re more so for record keepin’. However, I told him you were… a fan of his work–– ”
“ Fan is a bit of a stretch, don’t ya think? ” She snorts, stare flickering over to Slo.
“–– So he asked me to share this with you. It’s his prized possession. ” She continues, eyes twinkling as she slides the book over to Paloma.
Paragons of the Sacrificed
By Augustus Rutherford Dixon
“ Augustus ? What a name. ” Is the first thing Paloma notices, thumbing through the book and scanning some of its contents. “ This reads like a manifesto, I’m not sure I’m all that interested. ” She tells Slo, closing the item shut and attempting to give it back.
Sloane blocks her from doing so, shaking her head. “ No ma’am, you’re gonna read through it. I promise you’ll enjoy it. I know how you like to get lost in your books and music… this is right up your alley. ”
She seems almost desperate as she makes her case, so Paloma reluctantly keeps the book in her lap.
“ Right up my alley. What exactly does that mean? ”
“ You know… the adventurous fantasy stuff. He’s really into religion and history but not in a weird, bible thumpin’ way how the people ‘round here tend to be. Eye openin’ stuff… real, tangible things that make you want to pack up all your shit and get the hell outta dodge. ”
Slo doesn’t have to say much after that, it’s as if she knew exactly what words to say to get Paloma to be more open minded about reading the book. She chews on the inside of her cheek, eyes falling to her lap and she sighs, giving in.
“ Sure, why the hell not. If it’s crappy, though, and you waste my time I swear I’m gonna get it back in blood. ” She teases, nudging Sloane with her elbow.
“ Oh please, I wouldn’t be bringin’ this to ya if I didn’t think you’d be interested. ”
–––––––––––––––––––
Sloane was right. This book is right up her alley.
After getting over the initial weariness of the man’s introduction, she is fully immersed in the historical events he writes about as well as the practices of an unorthodox religion that’s been on the rise, according to him, since the birth of Christianity.
Her relationship with religion in general is pretty unadorned. Paloma is a practicing Catholic, just like the majority in Seminary, and she attends mass every Sunday with her father.
It’s enervating, in a way, but she knows just how much it means to Romeo for her to accompany him every week so she does it just to pacify him. Now whether she’s as devoted as she makes herself out to be is a completely different story.
She’s not. Paloma believes in a greater being; but not in the same manner that organized religion does.
It would quite literally break her father’s heart if he heard her say that outloud.
August is a talented writer, his words transporting her entirely while also making his message concise and informative. Paloma’s been tucked away in her room, obsessively reading the book for about three hours when the landline in her room suddenly rings and it makes her jolt out of surprise.
The antique clock on her nightstand indicates that it’s nine o’clock and she blinks away the sudden tiredness at the realization. Inserting her bookmark on the page she’s currently reading, she closes the book and reaches over to pick the receiver up and wedges it in between her ear and shoulder.
“ Paloma speaking. ”
“ Hola, hermosa . ” Javier’s voice cuts right through her and she’s instantly smitten, the book she was so engrossed in not even a minute ago now forgotten.
“ You sweet talk every girl you meet in Spanish? ” She can't help but ask, feeling butterflies in her stomach at the way he flirts with her. Between his sultry southern accent and alluring dash of Spanish; Paloma can’t decide which one she likes to hear more.
She hears him shuffling on his end of the phone, “ Why? You don’t like it, cariño ? ”
The Spanish. She definitely prefers the Spanish.
“ I do. It’s different. ” Twirls the telephone cord around her index finger, “ You call just to shower me in pet names? ”
He chuckles, the deepness of it having her bite down on her lower lip.
“ No, querida , was hoping I could speak to your father. ” This makes her frown slightly, but also what other reason would he have to call their house at this time of night?
Call for her ? Talk her through an orgasm through the phone, telling her to imagine his fingers instead of hers and whispering those goddamn pet names until she’s panting; wailing out for him? Or even better: offer to come by to get her out of the dry spell she’s been under before her father made it back home?
Both so appealing. Both so ridiculously out of this world.
She realizes she’s been quiet longer than intended, so she snaps out of her sudden wet daydream, speaking up.
“ He’s out with some friends from the bar. Don’t anticipate him comin’ back home till way later so you’re just goin’ to have to catch him at his office tomorrow, Mr. Peña . ” She had taken notice of the way he was so bothered by her calling him by his last name earlier that she does it again, just to fuck with him.
“ You make me feel so old callin’ me that. ” He scoffs and her smile doesn’t budge.
“ Well aren’t you? ” Fuels the teasing, wondering how far she could push it before the fire she’s been harboring burns her.
“ You really want to play this game, corazón ? ”
“ Maybe… ”
There’s a swift pause, all that’s heard is both of their breaths on either side of the line. Paloma braces herself for whatever racy event decides unfold but he breaks the silence first.
“ Just be a sweetheart and tell your dad I called. Have a good night, nena . ” He doesn't even give her the opportunity to give a closing remark, the dial tone ringing in her ears before she pulls the phone away and sets it back into place.
She hadn't realized how tightly her thighs had been clenched throughout that whole exchange. It’s embarrassing how her body reacts to him. Whether it just be his voice or his presence itself.
Paloma groans, standing from her bed and deciding to shower to calm herself down, August’s book being placed on her nightstand next to the landline.
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Javier walks in to the crowded bar much later than he intended to, stuck at the station with some chatty citizen who called to complain about her neighbors dog.
This is the life he lives now. Went from tracking down dangerous sicarios to listening to elderly women bitch about pets.
Nevertheless, he does what he’s been hired to do.
He hears the music that’s currently got the entirety of the place rumbling spilling out into the street upon arrival. The decently sized bar is filled with so many patrons, that it took him a second to recognize it. Honest to God.
Javier has definitely underestimated Seminary. It becomes clearer the longer he's here. While he does find himself complaining about the monotony most of the time, he’s slowly but surely easing into it.
He finally makes it to the bar and orders himself a whiskey, neat. It’s been his go to order for as long as he’s been drinking.
Dark eyes scan the crowd until they land on the stage where the first person he notices is Paloma; dressed to the nines with a bright smile. A smile he mimics as he watches her strum her guitar, the three other woman sing along with instruments of their own adhered to their bodies. Paloma isn’t currently singing, just adding in to the instrumental of a song that he doesn’t recognize. After paying for his drink, he maneuvers the crowd until he finds Romeo sitting front and center, swaying along to the music with nothing but adoration in his eyes for his daughter.
When he sees Javier approaching, his entire face lights up.
“ Javi, my man! You made it. ” The two share a friendly handshake as Javier sits down in the empty seat besides him, digging in his leather jacket for a smoke.
“ Woulda been here earlier but had a Margaret Lipton call complainin’ about how her neighbors dog won’t stay on its side of the fence. ” He grumbles, lighting the cigarette and taking a lengthy drag as the song finishes.
“ Sounds just like her. Expect a lot more’a those. Poor woman is just lonely; her husband of fifty years died not too long ago. Ever since then she’s been callin’ nonstop over petty shit. She’ll complain if a fly buzzes by, I tell ya. ” Romeo adds on, taking a sip from his drink and this gets a brief chuckle from Javier, making a mental note to limit his calls with one Margaret Lipton.
The next song begins, a very lively country tune that immediately shifts the atmosphere of the already buzzing bar. People begin to flood the dancefloor in front of the stage, but it doesn’t obstruct his view from the person that he’s here to see. He watches as she strums her instrument before approaching the microphone.
♫
“ Came into this world,
Daddy's little girl,
And daddy made a soldier out of me. ”
Her voice is so rich and smooth, ears perk up at the angelic singing and he takes a swig of his whiskey, eyes not leaving her for a second.
“ Daddy made me dance,
And daddy held my hand,
And daddy liked his whiskey with his tea. ”
She shoots a wink towards their table, and while Javier knows it’s directed to the man besides him, he can’t help but be selfish enough to think that’s it’s meant for him.
That her attention is all for him.
“ And we rode motorcycles,
Blackjack, classic vinyl,
Tough girl is what I had to be.
He said, "Take care of your mother
Watch out for your sister"
And that’s when daddy looked at me... ”
The music picks up, can feel it embedding itself in his bones and he’s so entranced by watching her perform that he just barely notices when Romeo leans over to talk to him.
“ Told me she wrote this with me in mind. Swear I’ve never been more proud of her. ” Javi peels his gaze away from her before the man notices how he’s basically eye fucking his daughter.
“ She usually write her own songs? ” He can't help but ask, her voice ringing out passionately as the song continues.
“ Majority of ‘em. Always got her nose stuffed in one’a her journals. When she’s not writin’, she’s at the piano or on the porch with her guitar. Melts my heart every time I see it. ”
Javier doesn’t say much in response, intrigued to hear how her voice sounds when it’s just her singing.
Paloma reproaches the microphone after the long instrumental that had the crowd dancing along to the upbeat country track concludes.
“ My daddy warned me about men like you
He said, "Baby girl, he's playing you!
He's playing you! ”
She sings with a vigor he was not expecting, making eye contact with him and he catches the way her red-stained lips pull into a smirk.
Just like that, she has captivated him all over again.
Under the stage lights, Paloma emanates an otherworldly glow, her presence as captivating as a celestial being. Clad entirely in black, she stands out against the band's more colorful attire. A leather miniskirt, paired with sleek black stockings, hugs her form, the oversized silver buckle of her belt gleaming under the spotlight's embrace.
Her leather jacket, mirroring the skirt's allure, features intricate silver detailing that catches and reflects the light with every movement. Beneath it, she wears nothing but a black bra, veiled by a sheer mesh top that adds a layer of sexiness to her ensemble.
Paloma's long brown hair cascades around her like a veil, framing her face in an aura of natural elegance. Atop her head sits a black cowgirl hat, a bold statement that perfectly complements her outfit. And completing the look, her feet are adorned with matching black boots, tying everything together with an air of effortlessness.
She appears absolutely mesmerizing. Javier finds himself reaching for another drink, needing its warmth to steady his racing heart.
“ 'Cause when trouble comes in town
And men like me come around"
Oh, my daddy said shoot
Oh, my daddy said shoot. ”
The chorus is repeated once more by the performers and some of the crowd, which has him wondering if this was a Seminary original song.
“ Oh, my daddy said… shoot…. ”
They drag the last lyric out with the rattle of the drum’s percussion before the song officially ends and The Whiskey Fox erupts into a boisterous applause. The women take turns hugging and congratulating each other, though his focus is solely on Paloma. He doesn’t even acknowledge when Romeo gets up to get them all another round of drinks.
" Well, folks, I reckon y'all just witnessed a taste of the good ol' honky-tonk spirit here at The Whiskey Fox! Ain't nothin' like harmonizin' with these talented sisters and feelin' the energy of this fine establishment. Let's raise a toast to good music, good company, and good times at the Whiskey Fox—where the spirits are high and the music's just right! " The bar laughs and this gets a bemused chuckle out of Javier, who stubs out the cigarette he’d been puffing on throughout the performance.
“ So another ‘round of applause for the lovely Lone Star Sisters . ” After a few more formalities and some announcements, Paloma disappears for a brief moment before he spots her again, this time heading in his direction.
She’s stopped a few times along the way by some patrons who simply cannot get over her and her performance.
All Javier does is admire and be amused at how they treat her like she’s a celebrity. Even watches as she signs a slip of paper and crouches down to give it to a little girl. The interaction has his heart racing so he downs the drink in front of him to slow it down.
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The adrenaline that Paloma feels after a show is indescribable. It’s like she transforms when she’s up there, giving it her all and making sure that the crowd watching is being entertained to the fullest extent. It’s why she absolutely loves it when she sees everyone dancing, has even spotted a few people singing along to some of the original songs she performs regularly.
It’s an even better feeling when she gets off stage and is being praised left and right; it makes her feel like the art she puts out is important as it’s being appreciated by everyone and not just those in her immediate circle. What really melts her heart, though, is when she sees the gleam in the eyes of the younger girls who come see her play. As if they’re looking up to her, seeing their own aspirations performing out on the stage. Knowing that she’s somewhat of a role model to them is all she needs to stay content in her passion for creating music.
After finally getting through the crowd of… admirers (she doesn’t like calling them fans; it feels odd), Paloma reaches the table her father always sits in but is pleasantly surprised to see just Javier there.
“ You came. ” She doesn't even try to hide the large smile on her face, heart still beating wildly in her chest due to the high energy performance.
“ Found a small window of opportunity in my very busy schedule to be able to make it. You’re lucky, hermosa . ” He teases and she laughs with a shake of her head, shaking off the leather jacket on her shoulders and removing the hat that sits on her head.
It is entirely too hot for her to sport it for the rest of the evening, so she drapes the jacket over the back of the chair and lets her hat hang over the corner of it.
“ You’re a damn good singer. ”
The compliment has those butterflies stirring in her stomach again. Paloma won’t ever admit that she made sure to be on her game tonight in anticipation of his attendance. She doesn’t want to come off as desperate, despite how flirtatious their interactions have been since they met.
“ You sayin’ that ‘cause you mean it or are you just tryin’ to become my groupie? ” She cocks her head to the side slightly, sliding into the seat across from him and crossing her legs. She bites her lip once she watches his eyes divert down to her thighs; the top of her stockings showing and a soft slither of her olive skin teasing him to make a move.
“ I genuinely mean it, querida , but being your groupie doesn’t sound half bad. ” Paloma giggles, scrunching her nose and he smiles at her.
Why does she feel like she’s drunk off him? What the hell does he lace his attention with?
Romeo returns right on time, setting down three glasses on the small, round table.
“ Alright, a bourbon for me, whiskey for Javier and a root beer with muddled cherries for my beautiful daughter. ” She reaches for her drink, ignoring the look Javier gives her and she takes a lengthy sip from the straw; the carbonation feeling so refreshing as it travels down her throat.
“ No celebratory drink? ” He asks her, fingers once more fishing out his cigarettes and lighter.
“ I only drink on occasion. Try not to do it when I sing unless I need to loosen up the good ‘ol pipes. ” Two fingers tap against her throat to emphasize her point, his dark eyes trailing the area and she knows his soft lips would feel divine against her warm skin.
The trio fall into small talk for all but five minutes when Javier’s pager buzzes in his jacket pocket. He excuses himself from the table and he saunters away to the pay phone outside of the bar. Paloma’s gaze follows him all the way out, sound of her father talking muffled as he overtakes her thoughts.
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Javier digs into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a few coins to insert into the public telephone then punching in the familiar number of his former partner. The line rings three times before Murphy picks up.
“ We got him. ”
The words knock the wind out of him and he stabilizes himself by sticking his hand out to lean against the payphone stand.
“ Alive or dead? ”
“ Trujillo shot the fucker right between the eyes. ”
He presses the phone against his forehead at the news, eyes closing as he allows it to fully sink in. Knows he should be relieved… that the weight on his shoulders should dissipate now that Pablo Escobar is dead.
Not in custody or cornered. No, dead .
Yet he isn’t relieved. Not as much as he would have wanted to be. It’s a bittersweet feeling, really. They can rejoice now that they got one dirty narc over and done with but if Javier has learned anything in the past few years–– it’s that this war on drugs is far from over. The rest of the Medellín cartel has yet to fall and Cali just reached its peak.
You know what they say: cut off one head and two more take its place.
But that’s no longer his problem. He had been reassigned, sent somewhere where he could chill the fuck out and start making amends for his fuckups in Colombia. His only focus now, as long as he’s concerned, is dealing with what happens in Seminary and Seminary only.
He and Steve finish their conversation, reminiscing on all the crazy ass shit they had to do and endure in order to get to this point. Steve ends the call by telling him that he should have been here to see it all the way through and that, in a strange turn of events, he was proud of everything they accomplished together despite the bullshit that ensued.
Javier doesn’t say much, as per usual, but he doesn’t have to. Steve knows he’s appreciative.
Fingers itch to pluck out another cigarette but he goes against the urge, instead collecting himself before reentering the bar.
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Paloma was left alone shortly after Javier left to take his phonecall, her father being pulled away by his buddies while she finished up the rest of her drink.
When Javier does return, she immediately notices the change in his demeanor but doesn’t know how to ask him what’s wrong without coming off as bothersome.
“ Everything good? ” Is what she decides on, leaning in to rest her chin on the palm of her hand as her elbow sits on the perpetually sticky top of their table.
“ Everything’s alright, muñeca . ” He takes his seat again, still being flirtatious but there’s an edge to it. He grabs his drink and swishes its contents around the glass before downing it all in one swift shot.
Paloma doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t get the chance to when her father returns to them.
“ I gotta go handle some shit that’s popping off with the Sullivan’s. Go get your things, baby, we’re leavin’. ” This pulls a groan from the back of her throat.
“ I do not want to tag along while you deal with whatever the fuck they got goin’ on. Not after last time. ” Very rarely does she tag along with her father when he’s on the job; and last time they had been called to the Sullivan farm–– she didn’t expect to be there for almost three hours trying to help calm down Mrs. Sullivan, who was threatening to shoot her husband with their shotgun.
The conversation seems to intrigue Javier, eyes darting between the both of them as he begins to smoke again.
“ Well, you’re gonna have to hitch a different ride, then. ”
“ That’s no problem, Mr. Peña will take me. ” They both look over to Javi as she’s just volunteered him to drive her home.
“ Paloma––– ”
“ It’s fine, Romeo. Go handle it, I’ll make sure she makes it home safely. ” His thumb drags against his bottom lip as he stares right back at Paloma and his intense gaze has her shifting in her seat, the familiar feeling of arousal shooting heat up between her thighs.
It doesn’t take much convincing to send the sheriff on his merry way, her body tingling at the idea of being alone with Javier in his truck as he takes her home.
“ You gonna make sure I’m fine? That I make it home safe and sound? ” Paloma asks with a bat of her eyelashes, leaning close enough to where their knees brush up against each other beneath the table.
He follows her lead, leaning forward and taking a drag from his cigarette. “ S’what I’m here to do, princesa . Make sure beautiful girls like you stay safe. ”
There’s still some bite to his words but it’s hot the way he flirts with her. She catches the scent of his musky cologne mixed with the liquor and cigarettes he's consumed and it’s intoxicating.
“ I thought I told you these things’ll kill you. ” She plucks the nicotine stick from between his middle and index finger, putting out the nearly finished thing against the ashtray.
“ And I thought I told you I’m gonna die eventually. ”
“ Try not to make it anytime soon. ”
“ Why, would you miss me, cariño ? ” His brows raise inquisitively as he asks her, brown eyes gleaming beneath the dim lighting.
Paloma shrugs, sliding out of her seat. “ Probably not. I’ve just met you. ” Is said nonchalantly, despite her head spinning from how badly she wants him. She grabs ahold of her jacket and hat, “ I’m going to go pack up my things. Meet me in the back alleyway in ten. ”
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After getting her stuff into the back of his truck and watching her say goodbye to everyone, Paloma is sat in the passenger seat as Javier drives along the familiar road towards her house.
It’s quiet at first, the radio playing some song softly to fill the void from the absence of conversation.
“ So… you got a girlfriend? ” Paloma’s question catches him off guard and he actually laughs in her face. “ Or boyfriend–– I don’t judge. ” She raises her hands defensively.
“ Why, you tryin’ to apply for the spot? ” Javier briefly takes his eyes off the road to look over at her, biting his tongue once he sees how she’s staring at him.
She leans against the door, the soft hue of the radio's blue light casting a tantalizing shadow across her face as she draws one knee up to her chest. In that moment, she exudes an aura of irresistible allure, beckoning with every curve and contour bathed in the seductive glow. Javier contemplates pulling over just to grab her by the neck and press his lips against hers.
She just rolls her eyes, playing with the ends of her skirt.
“ Not really, just curious. ” He can hear the sincerity coating her words and while he usually wouldn’t divulge in his personal life, let alone his romantic relationships, he decides to answer her truthfully.
“ No girlfriend. M’not really the settle down type of guy. ”
“ Ah, so he’s got commitment issues… ” Paloma trails off, messing with him.
“Somethin’ like that. ” He isn't offended by her assumption, since it is the truth.
“ So no girlfriend back home? Or in Colombia? ”
“ Why the sudden interest, princesa ? ”
“ Just trying to get to know you, cowboy. ” There she goes with that nickname again and he just shakes his head softly.
“ The honest truth...? No girlfriends anywhere. Lots of hookups in Colombia, though. The women there are very beautiful. ”
She’s silent, which has him looking over at her again yet this time she isn’t staring back, instead looking ahead at the road in front of them.
“ So you’re a slut. ”
He laughs again, much more lively this time, “ Most people would agree with you, yeah. But I had my reasons for sleepin’ around. ”
“ Aside from pleasure, what were the reasons? ” Her brows raise, her arms crossing against her chest, pushing her breasts together and the sight is like something straight out of a Playboy magazine.
“ Most of ‘em were informants. Prostitutes who had vital information about the criminals we were after. ”
“ So in return for intel, they got to spend a night with you? ”
“ That was part of it. ”
She hums and he turns the question on her before she starts asking about other aspects of his life in Colombia.
“ What about you? Got a boyfriend–– or girlfriend. I don’t judge. ” He repeats her own playful words back to her, making a turn then flipping on the brights as the street lights have decreased to none; leaving them traveling down the dark back roads.
“ No, not at the moment. I’ve only ever had one real boyfriend. ” Paloma leans her head back against the window, eyes still trained on the emptiness of the night. “ And that ended terribly so I didn’t bother trying again after that. ”
Curious to know this terrible ending she speaks of, Javier proceeds to stay on topic. “ Must’ve been real bad if it got you to give up entirely. ”
“ Yeah. His name was George. We dated in high school... can you keep a secret? ” She sudden;y asks, ripping her gaze from the windshield over to him. He can see her from his peripheral.
“ For you, nena , of course. ”
“ We were supposed to get married and run off the night before graduation. Had planned the whole thing out, even bribed an officiant to wed us in the middle of the night down by the cemetery. It didn’t take him much convincin’; told us he had a soft spot for young love. ” Javier doesn’t say anything in response, instead letting his silence speak for itself and allowing Paloma to continue on with her story.
“ The big night came. I was so nervous I coulda puked. Me and the officiant waited for what felt like an eternity until eventually he apologized to me and left. I cried there all night, a stupid and naive part of me hoping George would eventually show… he didn’t. ” She sighs heavily and Javier wants to reach his hand out to rub comforting circles with his thumb against her thigh but he doesn’t, instead driving down the driveway that led to her home.
“ Found out the next day that he had left for the army. Which was so heartbreaking since that’s why he wanted to leave Seminary. He didn’t want to enlist like his brother and father had. Guess something changed his mind… haven’t heard from him since. I never told anyone about it, and the officiant passed away shortly after so… ” She trails off and Javier genuinely feels for her.
However, he can relate to an extent. Not to her but to her ex. His relationship with Lorraine back in Laredo a haunting reminder of the type of man he was slowly turning into. Instead of leaving for the army, though, he’d left her at the alter to run off to Colombia.
“ That’s… tough, querida . ” He's never been the best at comforting and it doesn’t seem like she minds his scarce sympathy.
“ It is what it is. I got over him eventually. ” They roll to a stop once they’re at the large country home, he puts the truck in park and cuts the engine; letting a comfortable silence fall over them.
“ Thank you–– ”
“ Do you need–– ”
They both speak at the same time, interrupting the other and they share a laugh about it. “ Ladies first. ” He beckons her to continue, shifting his body slightly to face her.
“ Thank you for bringing me home. I know I didn’t give you much of an option. ” The soft click of her seatbelt being undone brings a sense of reluctance over him, knowing that her departure is imminent and he's already dreading the moment she must leave.
“ Anytime, hermosa . ” Javi's dark eyes soften, “ Do you need help getting your things inside? ” Paloma nods and he’s quick to hop out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for her before she even gets the chance to reach over for the handle.
“ What a gentleman. ” She purrs, her hand brushing against his shoulder as she walks past him to help unload her equipment.
The desire to push her up against his truck and passionately kiss her, have his hands explore every inch of her body is tempting as all hell but he shows some self restraint.
They get everything into the living room and she walks him over to the front door.
“ I appreciate your help, Mr. Peña . ” Paloma leans against the doorframe with a teasing simper. They’re close enough to where he can see all the small imperfections that litter her skin. His eyes taking in how beautiful she looks up close, their bodies slowly gravitating towards each other.
“ You ever gonna stop callin’ me that? ” He asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands landing on either sides of his hips.
The girl shrugs, blinking slowly. “ Not till you’re not bothered by it. ” They exchange a lustful stare until he decides it’s time for him to leave before things escalate and he crosses a boundary he’s helplessly trying not to overstep.
“ I’ll see you around, Miss Leighton. ” Very reminiscent to their last goodbye, her smirk softens into a smile.
“ Goodnight, Javier. ” One, two seconds pass before she’s leaning in to place a gentle kiss against his cheek, the feeling has his heart racing and she pulls back slowly before taking a few steps back and closing the door.
Javier is left in a stunned silence, the small act of affection impacting him more than he would like to admit.
#javier peña fanfic#javier peña narcos#javier peña smut#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal character fanfic#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#javier pena smut#javier pena fanfic#javier pena fanfiction#pedro pascal
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AI-Generated Art
I wanted to reserve judgement of AI-Generated art until I had more info, and now I have it.
AI art should be a novelty. It should be something we have fun with. It shouldn’t threaten the jobs of real artists--the works of which are essentially stolen (read: “trained on”) by the AI generator.
Yes, to make it clear, all the AI are you make comes from dozens of pictures at a time fed into an AI system or network, then mashed together to your specifications. The AI doesn’t magically know what “Cat sitting on the beach” looks like, and doesn’t create that art out of a vacuum. It looks for art tagged “beach” and art of “cat” and then puts those things together. Then maybe you decide you want a palm tree with a shadow over the cat, and the AI recognizes the words “shadow” and “cat” and “over” and finds art that would fit those specifications.
Then you’re like, “well, I can’t get a commission from my favorite artist Margaret Artbomb, so I’ll just ask the AI to make this art in her style.”
And because she’s known for drawing cats on beaches under palm trees, you get a near-exact stylistic match that doesn’t exactly line up with any of her other art.
But it has trained itself on her art, and has used elements of her art to make yours.
Then you advertise this work of art as being for sale, even though you didn’t make it, and you essentially stole another person’s art to put yours together.
The problem is that some dudebros on Twitter (and elsewhere, I’m sure) think this is art:
As it turned out, he EXACTLY trained this request to an actual artist, Greg Rutkowski, who has said “don’t fucking use my art to make your AI shit.” ...except he said it a lot nicer. I’m just angry.
Not only is this straight-up theft, but it REALLY shines a spotlight on why some bros think commissions are too expensive, and they won’t pay an artist their due for real art (that actually has soul and isn’t anatomically questionable.) If these were real pieces, they would have taken ME at least 6 hours. Probably more because I don’t do realism a lot.
But this guy spent an hour and a half tweaking settings, and he was like BOOM. ART. Sure, and how many man-hours went into the production of the source art these came from? Hundreds, probably. But sure, claim this shit is real art.
And before anyone is like “yeah but parody” ... no. If you think this falls under the copyright exception for parody, you’re an idiot, straight up. Parody is derived work, and the US Supreme Court has ruled that you can’t just take someone’s art, mash it up how you want to, and call it an original work. Look up Rogers v. Koons.
If you want it in plainer terms, if you’re asked to write a report from school, and you go to an encyclopedia and copy/paste what you need in a different order from the original text, then turn that in, it’s STILL PLAGIARISM. Even though it doesn’t read exactly the same as the source, you have taken exact elements from the source, which you did not write yourself, and claimed that writing as your own without references.
You can’t do that. It’s the exact same situation with AI art, and I am DESPERATELY hoping courts realize this when, inevitably, people start trying to sell AI-generated art.
This isn’t debatable. It doesn’t matter how much you play with settings or tweak your request. You did NOT do that art, and you shouldn’t be able to claim it as yours. You shouldn’t even be able to post it without permission of the artist(s) you stole it from.
So don’t fucking do it.
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Get to know a simmer
Okay, soooo I was tagged by @silentsundown (thank you so so much for tagging me, I really love to talk, ramble and even most of the time overshare on this blog, so thank you! I really appreciate you tagging me, I hope you're having a really nice time of the day!! 💗)
1. What’s your favourite sims death?
Meteorite death in The Sims 3, definitely! And maybe werewolf bite death and I'm not sure if it's a mod, buut I love when humans die by being sucked out too much blood by a vampire, like blood loss death or? Oh! And being eaten by the cowplant. Also, death by a myth from High School Years pack. It's super creepy for me personally. Please note that I'm not really a player, so I don't remember much deaths, I'm sure there's so much more interesting. creepy and kinda funny ways to die in Sims 4!
2. Alpha or Maxis Match CC?
It's both! I equally love alpha and maxis match, and mix those two styles because honestly? There's too much gorgeous and unique cc to both of these styles to just choose or prefer one.
3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight?
No? Maybe because they don't because even when (actually it's IF) I play I cheat their needs :DD OH, and I also have some MCCC marks or whatever it called in English (метки) so their appearance won't be reseted or be able to change because I'm too tired of their presets changing for some reason when I enter live mode.
4. Do you use move objects?
HOW CAN YOU FUCKING NOT USE THIS CHEAT????????
5. Favorite mod?
I don't really remember all my favorite gameplay mods, but there are some I can't play without (not including some obvious ones such as MCCC and WW and UI Cheats and cooking mods that I have a lot):
ALL mods from SpinningPlumbobs, especially the Expanded Mermaid and Werewolves! These are super detailed and amazing for players who mainly focus on occult sims. It makes occults so much more interesting to play and it brought me back to somehow enjoying gameplay.
ALL mods from PERSEA, but especially Realistic Life & Pregnancy mod because it has so much cute interaction and it truly brings in so much depth and a sense of feelings to sims. Like real emotions and buffs, also cute dialogue options!
ALL mods from Lumpinou. But especially RPO, Open Love Life, Psychic Sims and Rambunctious Religions (if you wanted to have a cult in your game, esp occult cult - it's possible!!! And god I LOVE having sexy priests that are really priests in my game). Actually, every single mod of this creator is my must-have for gameplay, so YEEEEAH.
ALL mods from Maplebell. I do think that the Acting overhaul was a very needed mod for the game, as well as the socials & more kisses mod!
ALL mods from Adeepindigo, but especially education system overhaul AND PARANORMAL CAREER & GHOST HUNTERS!! Family activities and custom nuptials are the mods I find myself using the most, as well as Pet Care Activities. Also, the tweaks & small mods are VERY useful! The only mod I don't use from this creator is dental care - although it's super cool and realistic, but it's too overwhelming for me (thanks OCD), same with the most recent - Divergent sims, it's incredibly detailed but I'm not ready to deal with the same shit I go though every day in The Sims too lmao. It's overwhelmingly realistic & very detailed!
There's so much more, but my brain is super dumb, so I can't remember, but! If you see any detailed occult mod esp for vampires - you KNOW i'm already using it because that sort of mods are the most amazing for me. I love gameplay mods. although I don't really play a lot, but I have much of them.
6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got?
I'M A FUCKING PIRATE HOW DO I ANSWER? I got them all at ones time yeeeeeah I'm too cool for this question 😎😎😎😎😎 But if I'm being serious, although I got on a pirate ship when I was a teen, I started playing sims 4 when I think Cats & Dogs came out? So that can count as the first thing I got just because I started there. But If i'm being serious, I don't remember lmao. When I was a teen, I was pirating everything I saw on russian torrent websites, but I remember being instantly more interested in TS4 when pets expansion came out. SORRY I'M STUPID AND MY MEMORY IS TERRIBLE
7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing?
aLIVE. But overall, I have no idea how it should be pronounced. And with LIVing it sounds so dumb I'm sorry-
8. Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?
ANSEL ANSEL ANSEL ANSEL ANSEL ANSEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH AND- LUCINDA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN'T CHOOSE! THEY'RE MY FUCKING KIDS!!!! I LOVE THEM ALL!!!!!! IT'S CRUEL TO PICK SOMEONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
9. Have you made a simself?
Lucinda is enough of simself. I think. She has my appearance for the most part, and tbh, she's my vent OC so I guess?...
10. What sim traits do you give yourself?
I DON'T KNOW. WAIIIIT I searched for the post-reblog with traits, so yeeeeeah I found it! My brain doesn't know English today bc I just forgot how the traits translates in English, so....
LONER 🐺 DOG LOVER 🐕 PARANOID 👀 GLOOMY 🌧️ BOOKWORM 📚
11. Which is your favorite EA hair color?
ALL THE NEW 6 COLOURS SIMS ADDED IDK 2 YEARS AGO?? BUT ESP THE NEW BLACK & NEW VERY BLOND SOFT ALMOST WHITE COLOUR IIIII CAN'T HAVE ENOUGH OF ITTTTTTTT
12. Favorite EA hair?
Wait, howwww they even look? I haven't used any EA hair in the recent months or even years, so I had to look them up in CAS lmaooooo. Okay, so! Probably all HYS & Growing Together hair, almost all black hairstyles! AND I LOVE DREAM HOME DECORATOR AND NIFTY KNITTING HAIR!!! they're so good wowwwww! and i'm a fucking fan of Paranormal mullet! AND ALL THE HAIR FROM COTTAGE LIVING TOO! The way I didn't know about them until I started writing this tag 👁️👁️👁️
13. Favorite life stage?
YOUND ADULT. I'm scared of aging and death everywhere, so I have NEVER played a sim older than young adult. It may be oversharing (which is my love language btw and I just can't shut up SO BEAR WITH ME and my loud personality here), but the only thought about elders make me extremely sad and almost makes me hystericly cry for hours- NO IM NOT OKAY but my phychiatrist says it's getting better you know!!!! ALSO. My god infants are incredible cute and I love playing with kids because my god they're so adorable in game! I'm a child hater btw, but the game infants are super cute!
14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?
I'm sorry but NEITHER. But if i need to choose, I'm choosing building because it's so good but also! Not nessecerealy building, but decorating! I don't build I'm fucking dumb & scared of floorplans, roofs and terrain painting. But decorating? Anytime, please!!
15. Are you a CC creator?
NO- At least yet, but we'll see! Btw, I almost forgot that I wanted to recreate a fucking pose from the sexy french anti-smoking campaign poster 👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️
16. Do you have any simblr friends/a sim squad?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY MUTUALS ARE MY FRIENDS BY THE ONLY FACT WE'RE MUTUALS EVEN IF WE INTERACT ONE TIME YOU'RE MY FRIEND AND I'D KILL FOR YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
17. What’s your favorite game?
Ummm... Bloodborne & The Forest & Alien: Isolation?? But if we're talking about Sims, then it's TS2! The townies are the best although I didn't really grew up on The Sims in the way most simmers did, I played TS2 with my older sister all the time and this game has such amazing humor (although yeah it's pretty crude and mature BUT THAT'S SO COOL WWAAAAAAH) and personality, It's super good!
18. Do you have any sims merch?
DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW MUCH DELIVERY TO GERMANY COSTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Although I want to have the merch maybe like?? Plumbob headphones or like headband? That would be so cool!
19. Do you have a YouTube for sims?
NO. I wanted to be simtuber for some time, but I'm too scared of hate that comes with particiapating in youtube community, so NEVER THANK YOU!
20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing?
I have no idea, I'm sorry. And I don't really have my much older sims or screenshots or save files? But I think I started being more risky and using much more CC and using heavy alpha CC which I adore! Also, my sims started to become more and more gorey and dark-themed. Like- I feel like my sims were less horror-like few years before, they were casual occults. GOD I HOPE ONE DAY WE CAN HAVE TRUE BODY HORROR (MORE EYES PLEASE!!!!!!!! I WANT MY SIMS TO HAVE EYEBALLS EVERYWHERE ON THEIR BODY AND I WANT THEM INSECTS GROWING UNDER THEIR SKIN PLLLLSSS!), like imagine having open lungs. more than two hangs or other body parts?? OR BLOODY DEER ANTLERS OR- sorry im fucking unhinged and maybe one day I'd get my lazy ass and create it all myself BECAUSE I CLEARLY NEED IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
21. What’s your Origin ID?
It's a secret. There's nothing and I was banned for piracy while sharing sims (no CC ones btw, and they were fucking normal like USUAL sims) TWICE. So nope!
22. Who’s your favorite CC creator?
I have 300+ GB mods folder how do i answer this.... Okay, let's do it! And BTW, I'm scared of tagging creators and tagging in general, so I won't do it this time so I won't spam or annoy anyone and won't be this anxious myself.
@pralinesims EVAN I'M SORRY BUT I'M TOTALLY TAGGING YOU!!! You- First of all, as I remember, you were the first creator with whom my journey with CC began and even then, you had a superior quality CC, and it was and still is the best CC content ever! I know I've said it a million times before, but! Your CC is a true must-have for me, I literally can't imagine CAS without it, it changes so much and adds necessary little details that give my sims a lot more personality :') AND SPECIAL THANK YOU FOR THE GORE!!!! gore forever!! I love gore!! AND FOR THE EYES!!
@lady-moriel (I know I tagged you twice in this post, but it's for a different purpose 😭😭 pls forgive me) has the most amazing fantasy/ occult cc which is really high quality AND MY GOD THE ARMOR!! AND DRUID STUFF!! It's so unique and done just so amazingly, all the details- it looks beautiful in game and I fucking swear, I can't live without your CC! And I still can't get over your Leshey set, because my god... I can talk about it for hours, it's just- It's a perfection, and you need to know that it's only thanks to you I can have literally Zone Blanche in my game-
Now, creators I'm afraid to tag in this ramble thingy. IT'S GOING TO BE SUPER LONG SO BE PREPARED LMAOOO
23. How long have you had a simblr?
Favorite skin details/skins creators — @/obscurus-sims, @/northernsiberiawinds, @/poyopoyosim, @/ddarkstonee, @/sims3melancholic, @/lamatisse, @/nesurii, @/angissi, @/twisted-cat, @/squea, @/thisisthem, @/simbience, @/sammi-xox
Favorite presets creators — @kashisun (!!!!), @/hi-land, @/viagosims, @/cinnasims, @/meeshi, @/ssspringroll, @/sammi-xox, @/arenetta
Favorite clothes creators — @/backtrack-cc, @/eunosims, @/nucrests, @/gorillax3-cc, @/plbsims, @/lumysims, @/trillyke, @/amelylinaa, @/arethabee, @/liliili-sims4, @/cinnamon-sims I don't remember more I'm sorry- I use much cc but do I remember creator names? mainly not 😭😭 my brain is not braining i-
Favorite hair creators - @/sheabuttyr, @/simandy @/ebonixsims, @/icchixxxxxx1, @/clumsyalienn, @falsogod, @/0o0ghost0o0, anto, @/leahlillith, @/aladdin-the-simmer, @/simstrouble, @/zaozzaa, darknighTt on tsr, @/1-800-cuupid THERE'S SO MUCH I'M JUST DUMB AND I HAVE MEMORY LIKE A FISH-
I came here in March, I believe! So like... 3 months? And my god I never felt this accepted in any community before, although begging was very scary and still is a bit, but the more I shared my OCs, edits and screenshots with you, the more accepted and loved I felt and my god, this is such an amazing feeling when you see how everyone share their amazing creativity and love for franchise and just- It's truly amazing to see everyone's amazing creativity and I still can't believe how different everyone's sims and game is! IT'S JUST SO COOL! I love seeing such different and unique visions being connected by the one game.
24. How do you edit your pictures?
OOOH It's a lot! First of all, I have pretty heavy and detailed reshade (but my PC is very much okay with this, so don't worry), I have a couple of favorite presets that make the game look SO MUCH DIFFERENT AHH! But keep in mind that I change a lot of settings and have my MXAO's set differently. The ultimate favorite of mine is Softee preset by Lustrousims! Its truly amazing and I use it every time. What I love about it is colour scheme and the way it DOES work with POC sims which is AMAZING! So for gameplay or build (which i have like... three, maybe?) or cas posts I don't really edit anything, maybe use a couple of color ajustments + dust + light leaks + resolution enchance + blur background a bit or make some details pop, but that's all!
But when It comes to my edits.... I do use blender, so you can see a few of my renders here. I edit them and in-game pictures either in GIMP or Photoshop (I pirate it too btw) for psd actions or if i'm editing while at work or while going somewhere - i use mobile editing apps such as Photoshop Express & Lightroom, Glitch Lab, Polarr, Vaporgram! Sometimes mobile apps are more useful for specific things than GIMP or Photoshop on PC lmaooo, so yeah.
Thirdly, I enchance resolution on PC by Topaz AI and on mobile with Remini, which is super useful because it does add details and really unblur pics.
25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far?
OKAY SO. Please keep in mind that my opinion may be weird, but that's because I never paid a single euro for The Sims 4, I KNOW most of TS4 packs and content in general is super overpriced and bad if you keep in mind how much you paid for it, but I haven't, I have it all for free, so I just mostly enjoy everything when I truly explore or play it. I do still shame EA tho lmaoo.
Expansions: Get to Work (mainly because of aliens and active careers), Cottage Living (HAVE YOU SEEN THE CUTEST COWS??HAVE YOU SEEN THEM??), Cats & Dogs, Growing Together, Island Living.
Game packs: Vampires (OBVIOUSLY!), Strangerville, Realm of Magic, Werewolves
Stuff packs: PARANORMAL, Vintage Glamour, Movie Hangout Nifty Knitting, Tiny Living, Laundry Day!
26. What expansion/game/stuff pack do you want next?
Okay, sooooooo......
Expansion: music groups & choirs & opera pack that will bring more ACTIVE careers for musicians, more music instruments, PLEASE GIVE ME OPERA AND BALLET THEATERS (... my russian side truly wants to have it, like pls), tours and trip-hop as in-game genre! Also, It would be amazing if they'll add something like church choirs or something like that.
Game pack: FAIRIES. And bigfoot. Please. I want to have those in my game so bad! Also, I think it would be amazing if we'd another pack where we'll get the whole funeral system, like funerals and graveyards! I WANT TO HAVE THOSE SO BAD. And I want this pack to have maybe mortician career. maybe even an active one? As well as active funerals, more coffins with cross-pack compability so that vampires can sleep in them too. Also! You know this message your sim sometimes get about their very far relative passing away and giving them money? I want it expanded & it's a great ability to add an option for a sim to own a multiple homes and apartments, like having their own and the house that was passed for them by a grand-someone.
Stuff packs: something for toddlers and infants, maybe including functional strollers & new interactive toys (like a mini piano or a book that can sing them songs) and more clothes and bb objests. I think we need more gameplay for toddlers and infants! And also, maybe a separate stuff pack for kids? ALSO WE FUCKING NEED THE SPOOKY STUFF REFRESH!
Lastly, I'm tagging @alinelie, @lady-moriel, @lunarspellsims, @noeyinthemist, @the-daydream-archives, @2013trait, @isthisdesire98. I know it's not a lot of you, but I don't remember who I've seen doing this tag, so yeah! Please feel free to ignore this and I also apologize in case I annoyed you. I hope you're having a good day! I love you all just so much!
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MULTIMUSE QUESTIONAIRE
RULES: Answer the questions with the Muses that would best fit the answers. Bonus if you give details why. If tagged, copy and paste into a new post – DO NOT REBLOG! ( willow edit : since it's just emilia on here, all answers will be about her / questions will be tweaked when necessary 🩷)
1) Rank your softest Muse and your toughest Muse. (Personality-wise) - she can be both, which feels a little like a compromise, but it's the truth. she learned to have a very thick skin when she was living in nyc and trying to make a living with her photography, but she's also incredibly empathetic and affectionate with those she's close to & cares about.
2) Which Muse would blow through $1000 quickly? / what would emilia blow $1000 on - camera equipment, and it would be painfully easy to blow the whole 1K not just in one go, but on one piece of tech. lenses are so unfathomly expensive i wonder sometimes how emmy was even able to pay her nyc rent on a regular basis.
3) Do any of them have nicknames? Is there a meaning behind them? - emmy, em, melly are all pretty common. her middle name is rose, so several members of her immediate family would call her rosie. ( which she actually misses, considering who would be the ones to use it. but since her middle name isn't common knowledge / she isn't often asked what her middle name is, there aren't a lot of opportunities for it to come back up. )
....... also please take this as a blanket plea to give her nicknames and i will love you for eternity.
4) Are any of them up-to-speed on the latest trends? Anyone more old school? - social media was never her thing ( which is a shame because her instagram probably would have been lovely ), and she was always a fan of vinyl over cds when it came to listening to music. her cameras of choice for recreational photos tended to be older models while saving digital for her professional work for ease of use with clients. fashion was never a huge deal for her ----- she is/was very much a black & neutral color type. and still loves a good jumper.
5) Who has the best relationship with their siblings? - she had a good relationship with both her brothers ( charlie & thomas ). being the youngest and the only girl meant she had two very protective older brothers watching out for her growing up, but they were both able to let her fight ( sometimes literally ) her own battles when she needed to.
6) Karaoke night! Who is likely to grab the mic first and bust out a tune? - it'll take some convincing, but she'll eventually get up there and sing. yes, she has done a spice girls song, and yes, she would do a spice girls song again if given the chance.
7) Who is least likely to enter a beauty pageant/model? - she did some modeling as a favor for a few classmates while she was at NYU for projects and the like, but never anything serious because absolutely not.
8) If your Muses visited a haunted house where actors scare you, who would panic and who would be unfazed? - she doesn't scare easily, ( especially in settings like this where she knows it's all fake ) and surprisingly, she's typically more of a fight over flight type of girl -- but she's still capable of falling prey to a jump scare like anyone else. she'll probably scream-squeak and drop a substantial line of 'fuck!?!?'s.
9) Are any of your Muses particular about taking certain modes of transportation? - she's taken both the tube in london and the nyc subway in her lifetime so she's certainly seen some things ... that being said, she's not really thrilled about heights, so flying was always a bit tricky for her. at least now that's not something she has to be concerned about.
10) Share a little-known fact about any Muse. - emilia has a very keen sense of smell ( which is .... a lot of fun in a post - apocalyptic setting ), and memories for her can be / will be very scent - forward ( which considering her talent for photography / documenting moments visually, i guess would make her a double threat? ). she will ultimately assign a scent to your muse probably without even realizing she's doing it.
tagged by: @wexarethewalkingxdead🩷 ( thank you for giving me an excuse to go on and on about emilia it's my favorite thing )
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do you now know what first lap incidents are or are you just dense because you don't like daniel? because with sai and mag those were first lap incidents where he did take responsibility and apologized. not to mention daniel has had little incidents on his 10+ long career so this revisionism is crazy. it would be like saying lewis is a dirty driver for silverstone 21.
about the yuki incident, he was penalized, he served his penalty during the race and there was enough time to get a good result in the race. same way lewis was penalized at silverstone, served his penalty and then there was good enough time to get a good result in the race. they're incidents, they happen. it's not an agenda.
I think it's so bold saying you hope daniel gets his karma as if last year wasn't enough and everyone who reported on him said it was bad. like I get it if you dint like daniel but this is asshole behavior.
not to mention "he should have confiere considered nyck's feelings when taking the seat"??
same way oscar considered daniel's? nah fuck outta here with that. not to mention helmut explicitly mentioned the writing was on the wall already and he said that if daniel didn't have the pace on the tyre test, they would have gone for another driver. or would it be okay if another driver took the seat? it's a sport.
Guess what guys I got another long post incoming. With screenshots too because maybe I am not being clear about my perspective on the situation 🥳🥳🥳
I addressed the 10 second penalty in the tags of the post. I don't think I'm tweaking but ruining 2 people's races in back to back weekends when you're already getting released from your contract ain't a good look.
Don't bring Lewis into this because it ain't about him. I know you're making the comparison because Lewis is my favorite driver in order for me to ~empathize~ but I never said anyone was a dirty driver. You're putting words in my mouth 🤷♀️. The Mexican GP thing was to put things into perspective as to how people react in situations involving him. The general consensus for that race was "the race was boring, and Daniel was the only person who did anything notable, but he took out a driver, but causing someone to dnf is fine because we saw some of the old Daniel". Of course Yuki fans won't forget this incident 😭. Not a lot of people were sad for Yuki that weekend even though he was close to the points (y'all saw the AlphaTauri last season it was not good). If someone was celebrated for ruining my chances at succeeding I'd have a chip on my shoulder.
I think Daniel at his prime was world champion material, but the reliability issues he had during his first stint at RedBull ruined all of that. Maybe my feelings about this are wrong as I was not a f1 fan in like 2016, and I'm sure someone will correct me in my inbox.
So I said this because I believe it's alright to have these expectations for him. ~12 years vs ~3 years, the more experienced veteran generally performs better. If he believes himself then he should be just fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. I only share my opinions on platforms where I know the driver won't see it for a good reason.
I really do sound like a broken record. So my main problem is a driver with ~12 years in f1 replacing a rookie on a team that's meant for development and getting used to F1. You can't expect a rookie to produce good results if you give him a car where the brakes don't even work properly. And my annoyance is exacerbated by F1 media still pretending Nyck didn't exist. Like has any official F1 account posted about Nyck since this went down a few days ago? I don't think so. That is what's getting on my nerves.
I don't think I need to go over the differences between the Oscar situation and Daniel's. If you can't figure it out by now I doubt me explaining would change much 🤷♀️.
I literally can't envision a situation where they would replace a rookie with another rookie in the middle of a season. Would I be just as annoyed if this were to have happened? Most likely yes? I need this to actually happen in this era of F1 to form an opinion.
TLDR: I know why Daniel was put in AlphaTauri but I don't agree with the way it happened. Would I be upset with a rookie replacing a rookie in the middle of the season? Probably.
#f1#formula 1#daniel ricciardo#nyck de vries#yuki tsunoda#i didn't say a lot of things you're accusing me of saying tho so let's not do that
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Hi there buddy, my name is Athena. I'm coming to say hi, see how you're doing and this is a chance to ramble about your wips. Have any of your wips been influenced/inspired by podcasts or any other media?
Hi Athena :)
YES! Thank you for asking <3
All of them!! So...let's start at the beginning...take a seat...get a drink and a snack...this will...you know what, get that drink and a snack and I'll break this down so you can go potty in between WIPS. Otherwise you'll be doing the potty dance and trying to read faster and you might skip something...and no one wants that. *grins happily*
We'll start with The Imperium Chronicles (@theimperiumchronicles )
Okay - the original concept started as an RP a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time ago with some super cool and super good friends of mine. We used Cassandra Claire's Mortal Instruments book series as kind of inspiration, but there were parts of her mythos we thought were crap and her characters were too young and we HATED the whole chalice thing....so we kept a little and threw a WHOLE LOT out...and came up with the original crew - Abriella (who was an existing char of mine that I tweaked and was known as Brie then), Cruz, Dez, Talon, Talia, Raguel, Arioch, Char (she's dead and we're gonna leave her that way), and Deacon. Some people wrote more than one. None of the characters were actually based on characters from Claire's stories, we more based it one her setup and if you saw our stories then and some of the old stories I wrote for Brie, you'd recognize it. It's been almost 20 years now...she's evolved some.
NOW...the obvious inspiration for the current arc is kind of the Bible - 4 Horsemen and all. But again, there is a twist on it. Mainly because having done some Biblical study, I am aware that what we have today is at best the English translation from the Latin from the Greek from the Aramaic...or something along those lines....there may even be a few other translations thrown in there. In some cases there were multiple meanings for one English word. For instance when Jesus is walking on the water the more accurate translation is NOT "Fear not, it is I". It IS "Fear not, I AM." Why does this matter? Because God was know as The Great I AM. He was declaring his divinity within the statement but what seems like a minor translation issue is a HUGE one in context. Sooooo....I've used this to my story's advantage. In no way is my story related to reality or religion in any way, I'm just using something that is real in my fiction.
ALSO...Leandre, Andronicus, Orpheus, and Thenasus are completely and wholely based on the BBC Musketeers series, save the last season which IMO sucked balls. They are even based on the characters that share their FC. Leandre is my blorbo baby...Tom Burke *swoons*. ANYWAY...completely inspired by...blorbos were born watching the series while writing Abriella stories. Demanded they be born and allowed to participate. So, here we are.
Thinius...yep...he is alive and kicking because Imagine Dragons seems to write songs that just inspire the fuck out of the entire The Imperium Chronicles gang. And they demanded Dan Reynolds be a FC of a character as such. Don't ask where his personality come from other than when I saw them live in NOLA, it came to me watching that man literally bounce around for over 4 hours on stage like the Engergizer Bunny.
Kellen got his FC before I saw Shadow and Bone, but he became more formed and his character changed some afterwards. The plot didn't but he absorbed some of the elements of Kirigan that Ben played, elements that I had been struggling to figure out with Kellen. It was tied into the world building for Uffern, and as soon as he grabbed onto those tiny details, everything fell into place for Uffern and all the others who live there...including Korben's curse. z
POTTY BREAK...I'll start @bendingthelaws after I finish eating my lunch
TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing @blind-the-winds @shipping-through-eternity @outpost51 @inkspellangel @blind-the-winds @sunset-a-story @writingmaidenwarrior @clairelsonao3 @toribookworm22 @there-goes-thefighter
Please let me know if you would like +/- From the list
#the imperium chronicles#my ocs#my writing#writing inspiration#inspiration#asks answered#answered asks#writeblr#writeblr connect#writeblr community#writer community#writing community#story ideas#writing ideas#where plot bunnies come from#plot bunny
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Okay so since I'm shifting more focus onto this muse, I want to throw out some interaction guidelines for the blog. They're going to be different from what I have on Giacomo, and my Caard will be updated accordingly once I have the opportunity.
For those of you who came over here from seginbeats, let me inform you that Giacomo is 100% the type of character I'm not used to writing, he's definitely helped me improve my range. I've been an antagonist writer primarily for about 14 years out of my almost 17 years of RP experience. Characters like Legato Bluesummers from Trigun, Lucy from Elfen Lied, Vaas Montenegro from Far Cry, Ryomen Sukuna from Jujutsu Kaisen and Alexia Ashford from Resident Evil, are my forte: fucked up people who do fucked up things. And Proton is a fucked up person that is going to do fucked up things.
Writing with the type of antagonists I put together can be confusing/intimidating, so, here's some guidelines to help you guys out.
Our muses do not have to get along. I am totally, 100% okay with, and excited, to write the bad guy. It's something I legitimately have fun with, and I feel that it opens up doors to a lot of character development. If you want to write with Proton, but the only thing stopping you is the worry of our muses clashing, fret not! I'd still love to write with you.
I'm not interested in writing redemption plots. I've been at the villain game for a long time, and I need to accept the fact that writing a redemption arc for my character makes me lose muse-- because I am no longer writing a villain. However, I am completely cool with writing plots where my muse atones for his actions, I think that has potential for some really unique writing.
Win or lose, I won't complain, as long as it is fair for all the characters and muns involved. Proton is not always going to win a conflict, he has several major weaknesses built into him to make it possible for him to be defeated. But, I do not want my muse to be underestimated. He is still very much a threat. I also do not plan on underestimating any muses that I'm writing with. Let's put a fun plot together! I really love when heroes lose against a villain, only to come back and defeat them-- and vice versa.
Please keep unprompted harassment and bullying of my muse to a minimum. It's genuinely exhausting for me to deal with at this point. It's funny once or twice, but, if all we're going to do is have Muse A come in and degrade/bully Muse B, it's not fun for me. It's gotten a little out of hand on Giacomo's blog, and as much as I think it's funny for people to make fun of my little DJ boy, I'd like for it to tone down there, and here.
Please let me know if you need a trigger to be tagged. This blog is going to explore some extremely dark, and sometimes disturbing topics. I don't want to cause any distress.
If you're ever in doubt on how to reply to something, don't be afraid to reach out to me. You'll never offend me if something needs to be tweaked in order for things to make sense for the interaction.
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I posted 7,039 times in 2022
That's 7,039 more posts than 2021!
342 posts created (5%)
6,697 posts reblogged (95%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@hawkeshep
@moss-flesh
@commander-krios
@plisuu
@alongtidesoflight
I tagged 6,845 of my posts in 2022
Only 3% of my posts had no tags
#art - 2,806 posts
#dragon age - 2,385 posts
#other - 1,527 posts
#mass effect - 1,319 posts
#shepard - 745 posts
#lavellan - 443 posts
#cullen - 315 posts
#garrus - 307 posts
#solas - 293 posts
#hawke - 229 posts
Longest Tag: 134 characters
#for the piercings - i wish i had some artistic talent because i would die to see her with some extra piercings i can't see in the game
I sent 3 gifts in 2022
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
my friend just sent me this video and I just -
those are some pretty crazy rock formations
51 notes - Posted September 12, 2022
#4
Random OTP Asks
I scraped a random assortment of questions from this mega post so that I could answer them in a very self-indulgent way. I didn't originally number them, and it turns out I ended up with an odd number. Sorry to all Increments of Five enjoyers out there.
Who is always horny and will have sex, at any place and at any time?
Who slides their arm around the other’s waist?
Who tops and who bottoms?
Who acts tough but actually is really submissive?
Who is louder in bed?
Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the ER after it backfires?
Who likes to give the other hugs from behind followed by a kiss?
Who causes the tomfoolery and who has to try and stop the tomfoolery?
Who’s ready for marriage first?
Who wants kids first?
Who’s the first to break down because they’re going to be parents?
Which one has more insecurities? Over what?
Would they hate-fuck if they were mad at one another? If they had a falling out?
Which one stubbornly tries to pretend they aren’t sick?
Who initiates PDA the most in public?
Who is your OTP’s unofficial/official child?
Who pulls the other closer while sleeping?
Who likes to sit in the other’s lap?
Who still blushes when their partner compliments them?
Who asks the other’s father/father figure to marry their son/daughter?
Who sleeps on which side of the bed?
Who would be a lovey dovey drunk?
Who do they ask to be their bridesmaid(s)/best man/men?
Who distracts the driver by being a bit too provocative in the car?
Favorite canon moment of them?
Least favorite canon moment of them?
Which one fixes up the other one’s outfit in the morning (adjusting a tie, putting hair in the right spot, etc)?
What theme would their wedding be, if they were going to get married?
See the full post
76 notes - Posted September 16, 2022
#3
A few months ago, I was l lucky enough to receive the most amazing commission of my girl from the lovely @lilithkb (LilithKBArt on Twitter) 💖
I have been absolutely obsessed with this since I got it back. The amount of detail that Lilith put into this blows my mind. I love the tweaks that they made to the armour to make it more Mihri, the colours that we worked together on to make it more meaningful*.
I'm never good at words when it comes to these things because I feel like words can't really convey the love I have for this. If you're on Twitter, please go give them and their amazing art some love!
*green is Mihri's favourite color! However, I tend to associate her with turquoise for some reason. The armour colors are a lovely blend of both of us.
78 notes - Posted September 4, 2022
#2
I was lucky enough to snag a commission slot from the lovely @jentrevellan, so you know I had to get a bust of Mihri 💖 I can’t get over how she looks in her little dress, and the FLOWER CROWN! Thank you again, Jen! 💖💖
160 notes - Posted August 16, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Cullen's pretty sure he's gonna go grey by 35
722 notes - Posted May 26, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#3% of posts untagged is still really high for me#dislike#1000 more DA posts than ME#the brainrot was real#I came back to tumblr just to get back into mass effect fandom#it was only a kiss how did it end up like this?#the cullen tweet was the only time I was funny in my entire life and I will never be humorous again#tumblr2022#year in review
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hi! youre one of my favorite authors and i was hoping I could get some writing advice from you. i felt inspired by tua s3 and plotted out some ideas for a fic i would like to write (ive never written one before) and im stuck on how to start writing. how did you begin writing multichapter fics? is there any advice or tips you could share?
First of all, thank you! Very kind of you to say and I'm so glad you enjoy my fics so much! And how great you're inspired! Writing came out of left-field for me, to become a hobby, but it's been a great ride and I have a lot of fun doing it.
Advice, though... The main thing I'm going to say is a cliche, which is Just Do It. The hardest step is starting, when you're just staring at that blank page. Any words at all to start breaking that up. Throw 'em up there. They don't have to be good, you can make them good later. Especially if you haven't written before, you don't really know what you're looking for, what your flow is, what your style is, and you do not and should not know right when you start. That's what editing is for. Right now, your only goal is to be trying to turn whatever is in your head into words you can read, and then come back and tweak to shape more into that thing in your head. Just throw words on a page and see what sticks. That's all that writing really is, anyway.
Along with that, though, I think it's important to be writing For You. I won't say it isn't a lot of fun to post works, to get kudos and comments and reader interactions (because it IS, it is so much fun), but you are going to burn out if that's the only thing you're writing for. For me, my first... Four? Five? fics were just fun little for-me projects to fill time. Now, 3/5 of those have been shared (Joining Together, Holding It Together, and the first Christmas fic), but those all started as things that were never going to see the light of AO3 (the other two still aren't - they just aren't projects I'm interested in editing up or finishing to share, and that's ok). You are your target audience, though, so write what it is you want to read, what you enjoy, and then if you happen to share them, odds are there are people who would also enjoy them. If you aren't enjoying what you're writing then what's even the fucking point. And if you stop enjoying while in the middle of a long project, that's ok - step back, take a break and come back to it, poke at some other plot bunnies, and return when you're excited and ready for it again. And if you never come back to it, that's fine, too. No writing is ever wasted because you had fun doing it and you got practice and got better because of it.
Last, how did I get into multichapter fics... Ngl, my first for-me projects were all multichapter, mostly for convenience because they were slice-of-life moments and had POV changes (JT, HIT). But the first things I actually shared were one-shots. Crueler to Remember was my first actual multi-chapter fic, and that was more because it was a one-shot that ran away from me and I retroactively cut it into chapters. I mentioned it in another ask I answered earlier that I'm on mobile so I can't link (but check the #entertain shark on his train trip tag to find it) about how I cut up chapters, and for the most part I don't really think in terms of chapters when I'm planning out a longer fic. It's more of a Long One Shot until I get in and feel out where natural breaks feel, where the natural ebb and flow of the action and such is happening for when a good spot to cut is. I'm sure that's not true for all writers, and that people who actually outline probably do have chapter numbers and contents planned out, but I am not one of those people. Don't worry too much about if you're writing is too short or too long for how long you thought it was going to be - it will be exactly as long as it needs to be and the end word count does not matter.
Where this is all coming to, I think, is do what feels good. Read other people's things to see what you like/don't like, read writing tips and rules if you want for technical prowess, but at the end of the day, just do what sounds good to you, what feels good to you. You're the one who's going to be reading it a million times as you work on and edit it, so if it's not a thing you enjoy, not a thing that sounds good to you, why are you doing that to yourself. The first words you put on the page you do not have to be married to - as you keep writing, you can go back and edit them or throw them out to write different ones because you got a better idea four pages later on how to start that but anyway. It's all a big experiment and the only way to do it wrong is to not do it.
#maybe thats helpful? idk hope something in there is useful for you :)#most importantly is to have fun! enjoy the experience and i look forward to reading whatever you write!#ficblogging#entertain shark on his train trip#writing#side note: it is wild to me that i am a person to ask writing advice from#it didn't really click until recently to me that i am actually a writer and i have written A Lot and that does mean i have experience lol
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4, 15, 48, 60 ?
4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?
I write from only two emotions. Horniness and spite. My inspiration also only comes from these two emotions. If I want to jerk off to something, I'll write it. If I hate something, I'll write a counter to it. That's the fuel that keeps this car going.
15. How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?
I think the most important thing is you have to write from the heart (being horny while you write) because if it can get you, it can get the audience. I also write things specifically for me to re-read them later when I'm going down a specific tag so, it's important that future me is able to continuously get something out of it. I get pretty visual and detailed because I think why/how/where of smut is just as important as what's going down. I want it to feel messy and physical and weighed down by all the implications of what came before it.
I try to be realistic in the sense that I want my reader to be able to flip these two bodies around in their head in a way that doesn't disrupt the flow. I think what I love about writing for a fandom where one character is inhumanly strong and the other one cannot die is that you can get really fucked up with what they're capable of doing so, in that sense, realism is off the table. I do want my smut to make sense, though, logistically.
48. What do you look for in a beta?
I was immensely blessed to have the perfect beta respond to the first chapter I posted and ask if I was looking for one. After that, applications were closed forever and we've been together ever since.
I think House (my beta) has the most ideal approach that I could ask for when it comes to editing my works. They go through the document grammatically, sure, but the most important thing they give me is perspective. Does this scene make sense emotionally, does it make sense in context of these characters, does it satisfy the reader - why - or why not?
It's so valuable for me to be able to send someone a piece of writing and know exactly how the future audience is actually going to ingest it. There are so many things that I have tweaked, or full on re-written scenes because House provided questions and thoughts that I hadn't really considered in the process of writing it. I like to think of my first draft as like the frame of a car, but by the end of the beta edit it's shiny, with new car smell, and ready to hit the road.
I also cannot stress that having someone react to all the parts that you're like "god I hope this makes someone react" is just, so gratifying as a writer. I love getting comments, of course, but my best ones are always from the beta document. I am very, very lucky to have the beta that I have.
60. Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?
I actually had the author who got me into the fandom comment on atlas and I literally almost died. I remember reading their works on my friend's bed years back, being so enraptured by the world they were building and how fresh and organic the characters felt in their writing. I commented on one of their works and told them that they were the reason I started writing for the pairing, and they told me they would check out my stuff, and I was equal parts nervous/excited. I think I re-read the comment they left on it, like, recreationally. It was definitely one of those big moments for me as a writer.
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The “garbage” fic has grown to over twelve thousand words. I have been working on it fairly consistently for two weeks now.
AND IT’S STILL COMING.
I can’t escape this stupid thing. I’ve had projects sit in my head for literal years without me doing so much as lifting a pencil to get started on it. And it only kind of vaguely bothered me. Not enough to, y’know - actually DO anything about it. Or, worse yet, I’d have some free time, sit in front of a screen or page, ready to begin the work of chiseling out whatever I had in my head, and....nothing. Nothing would happen. I had no idea where to begin.
But this? If I don’t work on it, it feels like not scratching an itch. I have to work on it. If I open the document “just to look over it for a few minutes”, I guarantee that hours will go by while I add stuff, tweak it, etc. And in the meantime, food isn’t being bought or even eaten, appointments and work are being rushed to at the last minute, laundry’s getting done but very slowly because I keep forgetting the dryer stopped hours ago, etc.
It’s fun. It’s dangerous. It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Or maybe this is exactly when I needed it. I can’t tell.
Amazingly though, I made another discovery: the flow is contagious. I worked on the garbage fic for a couple hours today, then switched to a different story I’d put down some ideas for a couple months ago, and the flow came with. I was able to sustain interest in working on it until I got to the end of a scene. Fuck, is this how normal artists and writers get their work done? Just set aside some time, sit and....do it?
I don’t know what happened in the last couple of weeks to prompt this outpouring, or why I can suddenly do now what I haven’t been able to do for a few years. I haven’t been diagnosed with anything, haven’t changed my diet, nothing significant has happened. I mean, look at this. I have almost NEVER used my blog for personal posts, and suddenly within the past few days I’ve been spouting off things, and not just in the tags where it’s safe either.
I’m sorry y’all, I know this is a weird thing to get worked up about, but it IS weird and I can’t explain it. Virtually no one reads this blog. That’s not a guilt trip, just a fact: I have 34 followers by tumblr’s count, but most of those blogs are inactive, so the actual number’s probably closer to 10 or so. So it’s not like I got a sudden influx of people that I feel the need to do a little song and dance for. It’s just the same people who have always been here, with the occasional wanderer.
I mean, I’m grateful for the sudden run of words, it’s not a problem (yet - if I keep coming in late for stuff it might be. Nor have I given into the urge to quit my job and go live in a cave with free WiFi somewhere so I can give some creative work some much-needed love.) I just wish I knew how it happened so I could maybe make better use of it.
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Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (380): Sat 1st Apr 2023
This little attention-seeking sack of shit is Anthony. He’s 8 years old (and worryingly his hairline is already thinning) and what he wants more than anything is to go to WrestleMania one day. Today, April 1st 2023 in Los Angeles, California…Anthony gets his wish. WrestleMania: let’s fucking rock!
Early this morning Dad and I decided to shill out for another hotel that was closer to SoFi stadium because while the original plan was for him to kill time and wander around the local area while I went to Mania, there’s fuck all to do around SoFi Stadium. So now we’ve booked two nights at the Holiday Inn that’s apparently a fifteen minute bus ride from the stadium so now I can go to the wrestling while Dad chills in the hotel room. On the bus ride down from our original hotel to our new one a homeless guy got on who was shivering, covered in a bedsheet and carrying a half filled bottle of water like it was a baby. He walked right past the bus driver without paying and the driver in a moment of excellent comedic timing shouted down to him “You leave your pass in your other sheet?”. It must be fucking unbearable being a bus driver in this city. There are so many mental cases that eventually people who work on public transport must just let them in without saying anything or else the buses would never move. All those years that I was getting the bus from my house to the cafe why didn’t I just pretend to be a mentally ill tramp? The money I could have saved probably would have paid for this whole trip! After doing a dummy run to the stadium and back I set off for the real thing. I got the bus play but I had to get off early and walk there because the bus was barely moving due to the traffic and of course having to stop at every fucking intersection. I could never live in America. The constant minute long waits at the pedestrian crossings would drive me insane. I got to the stadium in good time and while I’ve been having nonstop anxiety dreams that something was going to go wrong that meant I wouldn’t be admitted the lady scanned my ticket and ushered me straight in. I climbed the stairs all the way to the top of the stadium and took in the scope of a venue filled to capacity with the WrestleMania sign and stage at the centre of it. At this moment the dream became a reality and I realized I had made it to WrestleMania. I wasn’t in my seat long before the show got underway. The whole thing went by very quickly and I didn’t get uncomfortable or anxious to get home at all. I was happy that Austin Theory beat John Cena, the showcase four way tag match was much more entertaining than it had any right to be (though I could have done without seeing Otis’ sweaty taint). The Seth Rollins / Logan Paul match was really entertaining. I love Seth to bits but I think his current gimmick is…..what IS his current gimmick. I know he dances and the crowd do his cool chant but it just feels shapeless. Rollins seems over on the surface but I think it’s the song that the crowd likes not him. There was a cool spot where Seth switched Paul’s mascot on top of him who Paul crashed on top of through the announce table. Dominik vs Rey was really good especially Dom arriving in handcuffs in a police car. Dominik Mysterio is one of the most over heels in the company which is surprising since before this prison storyline he was Blandy Bland. It just goes to show that it only needs to be that one little tweak that can turn you from a jobber to someone with star quality. Rhea Ripley vs Charlotte was awesome. I’m not a big Charlotte fan mainly because whether she wins or loses title matches is irrelevant because Vince/HHH is just going to hand her another one in a month or two so I was happy Rhea won. I left before the main event of Kevin / Sami vs Uso’s was over because I wanted to beat the traffic getting out but when I got back to the hotel I checked the results and saw that Kevin and Sami won the tag titles which made me very happy. I’m struggling to express just how much this meant to me. I’ve been a fan of wrestling since I was eight years old, it’s been an obsession of mine for nearly three decades now and has gotten me through some low points in my life. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and that’s fine, we all have stuff that we think is lame but if you’ve followed wrestling for ages and witness a truly great great moment it makes sitting through all the lame / boring / disgusting aspects of this art form seem so worth it. Since watching my first ever WrestleMania which would have been X8 and seeing the way the wrestlers could command and manipulate a stadium full of fans I’ve wanted to be a part of it. I tried to convince Billy and Bannan to save up for the trip but I don’t think they ever really fancied it and a few years ago Halilaj and I started making plans to go but then both of us ran into money troubles which meant we couldn’t afford it and then in 2019 I came close to commuting to it but didn’t which turned out to be a blessing in disguise since Covid came along the next year and I would have lost out on a lot of money. This year however something inside me decided that I couldn’t wait any longer and WrestleMania 39 would be the one I would attend. It’s been an agonising wait since I booked it back in October but I couldn’t let another Mania escape my grasp. I’m so happy that I can finally cross this off my list and it will no longer be a hang up of mine, constantly at the back of my mind pestering me. I know I spend most of this blog complaining but it’s no exaggeration to say that today has been one of the greatest days of my life. And fuck me I completely forgot there’s another one tomorrow!
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