#its fucking triggering for people and creepy
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Seriously people learn to post your fics under a read more or something. When I go to Ewan’s tag I want to see posts about him and not scroll past billion of fics that aren’t under a read more. Also people thirsting on him from his disturbing movie where he plays a literal r*pist by posting gifs of his scenes DONT DO IT???
#ewan mitchell#that movie was so disturbing why are y’all posting gifs and thirsting over him in that movie#its fucking triggering for people and creepy#also can’t even go to his tag anymore without seeing lots of aemond fics#like if i want to read aemond fics or other characters he plays i go to that tag instead#why post it in ewan’s tag when he’s the actor#a real life breathing person#i am so annoyed by this#i just had to rant about it#idc
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Obvious shit I noticed part 3 (spoilers for welcome to heaven)
Look at her! "Teehee"
Also she's nervous! Foreshadowing omg 🤯
STICKERS! Two pride stickers and a cute donut. Gives me an idea to draw Chaggie at a donut shop while everything is burning down <3 (I'll probably do it but if any artist wants to as well go ahead!)
*CHOKES ON COFFEE* I LOVE THEM. I'M SORRY I GET SO GIDDY WHEN THEY HAVE EVEN THE SMALLEST INTERACTION BUT UGHHH I NEED MORE, IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH 🙏🙏
KISSY! MWA! *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*
Vivzie give me more, moar now. MOAR
DAMN. SHE CAN THROW- or maybe it just exaggerates the perspective in this frame but still- ZAMNNN
Cherri x Sir Pentious fans RISE UP.
I wasn't ever really a fan of it myself but I always thought it was CUTE. Like 3 seconds before this part I was already begging for them to kiss 😭
More foreshadowing!
AAAAAA CREEPY BIRD THINGS!!!
Oh wait- Sera's hot and Emily's already adorable
If heaven don't look like what this is in the show, I DONT WANT IT! (THATS A JOKE PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME)
JEALOUS GIRLFRIEND VAGGIE!! Can I just say how much I love Vaggie's face expressions? Not just here but like all the time. She's just made to be so exaggerated, out of all of them I thought it would be Charlie who would have the most dramatic faces but Vaggie wins it for me. I JUST GIGGLE SO HARD WHEN SHE LOOKS LIKE THIS BAHAHAH
Okay yeah. It's very obvious now. Vaggie is definitely an ex-exterminator. They don't close in on Charlie here so it's made to subtly nudge the attention to Vaggie. HOW DID THEY IMMEDIATELY NOTICE IT WAS HER THO??
Hot-
That's it.
SHARE THAT MOTHUSSY GIRL-
YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE GREW OUT ALL OF THAT HAIR?!? YEAH ITS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE THEN BUT STILL AJJSJD.
But overall the design is pretty meh. I always loved the idea of short hair Vaggie and even have seen art of it but it's just yknow, alright. Reminds me of Cassandra from Tangled: the series. IM LISTENING TO ONE OF THE SONGS RIGHT NOW HELPPP
THIS SCENE HERE! WOOOOO! SO GLAD WE KNOW WHEN AND WHERE THEY FIRST MET!! Wish we got it extended tho. And also probably push it to next episode so it would have a better impact(atleast I think thats when they'll have the duet). BUT WHATEVER SOMETHING IS BETTER THAN NOTHING! or uh whatever
Vaggie must've been a bit terrified at first. The only sinner she ever sent mercy to was a child. Then to see someone who to her is an adult sinner who just looks really human, that must be crazy. BUT THEN IF SHE WAS TOLD THAT CHARLIE WAS ACTUALLY THE PRINCESS OF HELL? HOOOO, LOCK IN AND STEAL HER. THAT'S SOME WATTPAD SHIT. Also, I wonder how long Charlie thought of redeeming sinners. It would make sense to be after meeting Vaggie, since it could have been a wake up call to the fact not all sinners are bad people. Even though Vaggie isn't a sinner technically, Charlie didn't know that at the time. But maybe Charlie was always like this but just needed to meet someone who could start her dream with her. Long rant uhhh
Haha penis 🫵
SCRAP WHATEVER I SAID IN THE FIRST PART. THEY PROBABLY DO FUCK- OR DONT?? I DONT KNOW- ANYWAY LESBIAN SEX (BOTTOM TEXT). WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH??? SOMEONE PULL THE TRIGGER.
Lute looks like a basic asf anime gorl. Adam doesn't ever take his helmet off, or maybe he just can't. OH HE'S DOING THE GAY SIGN 💅💅 Very appropriate for what he's saying
Mentor, apprentice. I love that Husk is just trying to help Angel grow but isn't going to force him into it if he doesn't want to.
Im not a fan of huskerdust and think they'd be better friends as I can't imagine a relationship with them at all. But it's still nice and they are supportive of eachother so that's like- yknow. Basic rules. Or something like that. (HELP. I ruined it all at the last part)
I- girl- WHY IS SHE GROWLING?? GRR GRR RR (INSERT TWILIGHT SAGA HERE)
VAGGIE'S FACE. SENDS ME. WHO GAVE HER THESE OVERDRAMATIC EXPRESSIONS, I APPLAUD YOU RGAGAGA
Ooo... I didnt like this part at all... Instead of making the choice she just runs off. Then because the plot demands it, Adam says nothing. Kinda whish she atleast avoided the question, maybe in some way that would require actual thinking? For a character like Vaggie, she could choose either way and it feel like it's still her. If she chose to protect Charlie's dream, she would still be perfectly loyal to her but in the act of so would reveal a secret that could harm their relationship(which does happen at the end but that's because the plot wanted it like that). If she chose to side with Adam, she'd be hurting Charlie emotionally, sure, but it would keep a secret that could make Charlie see Vaggie less than who she is to her already(atleast what Vaggie might think would happen). Imo it should've been her deciding to protect Charlie, since it would mean she's devoted to her at all times.
ANOTHER THING! IF SHE COULDN'T MAKE THE CHOICE, THAT IS SOMETHING INTERESTING TO GO INTO. Maybe it could go deeper into how Vaggie doesn't know who she is without Charlie. So when she has a choice to make, like here, she can't do it without feeling the need to ask Charlie. BUT NOOO, YA HAD TO GO WITH THIS!! Wow. That was a long ass rant. Wtf 😭
Maybe I'm a dumbass. Maybe they'll talk about that next episode, but still, atleast touch on it a bit to not seem rushed?
Angel looking out for his kids like a mom. We always did need the motherly figure, the one closest to that being Charlie but girl needs a mother in her life too(damn, wait, I did her so dirty).
Huh, so why does it work here then? 🤨🤨 if it was said in the contract that Valentino can do whatever he wants only in the studio, then why is this the exception? 🤨🤨
Yes I'm stupid. Why do you ask? (No genuinely what's happening here)
OH ITS THE IMAGE! I really like Sera so far, hope we get more of her soon or in season 2.
Now that we know the context of this, yeah, that's fucking insane. And badass. WOMEN.
HMM. THATS STRANGE. DID YOU NOT FOR ONCE THINK THERE COULD BE A POSSIBILITY SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN ANGEL? Okay I probably wouldn't either but I have an excuse, I'm an idiot. Some girl with a standing out outfit, with one eye, looks unusually human, right after/during the extermination... that's pretty solid ass proof. But I'm dumb so don't take anything i say seriously :D
Imagine this. No- shit. Just-
JUST LOOK! THEY ARE SO CUTE! EVEN THOUGH CRAZY SHIT IS HAPPENING.
*SWEATS*
Vaggie is DESPERATE. PLEADING. That's obvious yeah, but don't mind me I had nothing to say for the last 3 images I just thought they were cool
I mean. Slay I guess. 😍💅
Do all the exterminators look similar or is it just Lute and Vaggie? 🤨
Even though Vaggie and Charlie may be going through this horrible thing with a hard punch in the gut, but Vaggie is always going to comfort her and I just think that's so adorable.
Also Adam looks like a chicken hah.
Everyone fears to be like Lucifer. If they don't do bad things they believe are for the greater good and make sacrifices that put them higher than those in hell, they could themselves be fallen. It's really interesting but I don't know if it's going to be fleshed out enough with the amount of episodes left. Which also worries me about everything else that still hasn't be concluded. There's gonna be loose strings I just know it. Hopefully though they rather do that then rush everything out y'know?
I want the next episode to be mostly focused on Vaggie and Charlie's relationship and the healing of what happened. Not for the entire episode of course, it would feel drawn out if it did, but atleast address the problem for the first like I would say 10 minutes? Then the rest would focus on one or two loose threads while also having Vaggie and Charlie acting upon moving on. That's just my idea but yeah-
#MORE OBVIOUS SHIT I NOTICED#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin angel dust#hazbin charlie#hazbin husk#hazbin hotel vaggie#hazbin hotel sir pentious#hazbin hotel cherri bomb#hazbin hotel lute#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel sera#hazbin hotel emily#chaggie#hazbin hotel chaggie#rainbowmoth#hazbin chaggie#hazbin hotel spoilers
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My dear lgbt+ kids,
I have been openly living as a trans man for some years now. And I'm at a point where it doesn't take up so much mental space anymore.
Don't get me wrong: I certainly do not mean "it doesn't matter anymore" here. I am not a "just call me whatever pronouns, I do not care" person and I don't think I ever will be. Nothing wrong with feeling that way, it's just not how I feel. Being adressed with my name and my pronouns is still important for my mental well-being, and it still triggers feelings of dysphoria when people misgender me.
Even apart from misgendering: My identity is still important, and it always will be! Being trans is not some small thing that loses its importance over time. It's who I am. Being a man - and having grown up in a society that told me I wasn't - influences the way I experience everything in my life (from my self-image to my relationships with others to... well, everything).
What I do mean here is: Before coming out to others, and also before coming out to myself and accepting myself as a man, there were naturally a lot of questions running circles in my brain. Why do I feel so sad when adults tells me I'll grow into a woman? Why does it cause me so much stress when mom tells me to put on a dress? Why does it make me so euphoric to use masculine scents? When I try to picture myself kissing a boy, why do I see two boys? Ah, I just learned trans people exist, why does this fascinate me so much that I can't stop thinking about it? Am I creepy for being so fascinated by them? I'm older now, why is that sad feeling not going away? Why is it only getting worse now that I have "grown into a woman"? Why do I keep getting this horrified feeling that I took a wrong route somewhere and was never meant to arrive at "woman"? Wait... could this mean I am trans? Is it too late to realize I am trans at my age? Can I really be trans when the whole thought of even just considering surgery feels overwhelming and scary? Will I ever be ready to actually come out as trans? I really want to get married some day, could I even find love as a trans person? Can I ever be happy in a relationship if I hide who I am? Can I go on living in the closet? Okay, I am trans and want to come out, is it safe to do that? Will my family still love me? Will I ever be brave enough to come out to people outside of my immediate circle? Will people take me seriously? Will people hate me? Will I regret coming out? What if I fuck up my life?
Well, I came out and the world didn't end. All these questions, I either found answers to them or they just dissolved over time - and that frees up a lot of energy and mental space. The space that was occupied by these questions and concerns is now available to me again.
I do not wonder if I am a man anymore. I just am one. It has become something that is just self-evident to me. It goes without saying - or without conciously spending time thinking about it. Of course I am a man, of course I am Oliver. Who else would I be?
We all have a limited amount of things we can focus on, and many trans people share this experience that over time they do not need to focus so much on it anymnore. But this is not unique to the process of figuring out you are trans - in the sense that a cis gay, bi, ace etc. person could also relate to this, but also in entirely non-lgbt-specific ways. Think about a person prepping for an important exam for example. A lot of their energy and mental space will be tied up in exam related questions... which obviously will not be a permanent state. After the exam, they will naturally no longer by preoccupied by wondering how the exam will go!
I'm telling you all this because one of you asked me if I struggled with coming to terms with being a trans man - and this is my very long way of saying: Yes, I did (and it's pretty normal to do! It's a really big realization about yourself!) but struggling isn't a permanent state.
You'll find answers to some questions, some questions will just fade away. You'll figure things out.
With all my love,
Your Tumblr Dad
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idk if you’d be comfortable writing this but I was wondering if you could whip up an Aphrodite!reader who’s fed up with her beauty. She stops attending school and stays the full term at camp which makes Luke confused. So she tells him about how random dudes would hit on her and be creepy at her school or something. She’d prolly join him with Kronos bc she wants to feel respected for once. Would be such an angsty but filled with femme rage although totally cool if you choose not to write this~ Just wanted to share it with someone 💛
Pairing: Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader
Summary: Maybe you didn't want to be beautiful anymore.
Content: pretty angsty, brief mentions of male harassment but nothing explicit or triggering, again sorry for the wait i had w block pls forgive me. also not proofread sorry yall its been a rough week.
You were only faintly aware of the noise around you.
The chatter of the city was a mere buzz in the back of your head as you marched down the street. It amazed you, really, just how unbelievably dickish mortal boys could be. This one in particular; Mike Schwartz, a five foot something jock who sat on the bench at every game. He’d been a bother in your life since you started high school. Back then, you took the endless prospects as a compliment – you truly were your mother’s daughter. It was a boost to your weak teenage confidence.
But as the years went by, the constant asking for your hand became an irritant. Especially when they couldn’t get the hint – at fourteen, turning down guys felt amazing, but when those same guys kept coming back for more, it made your eye twitch. Couldn’t they take the first no, tuck their tail between their legs and fuck off?
Apparently not.
After four years of putting up with it, you were done. Storming out of the cafeteria, grabbing all your things, hailing a cab and getting the hell outta dodge. Maybe you should’ve stopped to think — called your dad, taken a few deep breaths. But the harder you thought about it, after trying not to for so many years, you came to the conclusion that you would’ve ended up here anyway.
Here being the peak of HalfBlood Hill in the middle of September. It was only slightly unusual, because when you usually arrive at the start of summer you get to watch the crowds of arrivals setting up shop at camp. Now, however, it was fairly desolate. Less people, you knew.
It was also a split second shock when you stepped across the border and felt the drastic change in weather. From the cool breeze of the autumn air to the warm summery spring that camp was in year-round. A shift that made you pause, but you kept on down the hill anyway.
Chiron was waiting for you on the porch of the Big House, and without so much as a word, gestured for you to follow him inside. He was fairly understanding of your situation, but made you Iris Message your dad and tell him of your decision. He, too, was more glad you were safe than angry you ran off.
“We can talk about this when you feel like talking.” He’d said.
So you’d done it. Finally, you’d gotten yourself away from the hey hot stuffs and the you seeing anyone baby?s. You were back at camp, you were where you were most happy.
But you weren’t happy.
Being a year-rounder, you’d discovered, was a lot less busy than being a summer camper. You got more days off, longer breaks between activities. You found yourself spending more time in your own company; something you never really got to do before. Most of the time you were with your siblings, or your mortal friends, or you were being hounded by some frat boy and their friends.
It took a minute to get used to the loneliness, but you did. You explored camp, found places you hadn’t seen before. A cute clearing near a stream on the east side of the forest, or a Satyr sanctuary on the far end of the beach. You read more books, you trained a little harder, you perfected six new hairstyles on your little sister Elena and Annabeth from the Athena Cabin.
And yet, you were still pissed off.
“Why?”
Luke Castellan was a name everyone knew in this little corner of Long Island. One of the oldest campers, head counsellor of the rowdiest cabin, token tour guide for the new kids. Oh, and the best swordsman camp had seen in, like, three centuries. He was cute, that much you’d heard all around your cabin. But you’d never really held a solid conversation with him until you became a year-rounder. The fewer people around, the more you run into him.
You’d been practising a few neat tricks with a dagger when he spotted you. Said he was there to train himself for once and that you wouldn’t even notice he was there. You did, though. Especially when he took his shirt off twenty minutes in.
You shared a water break, he asked you why you’d transferred to being a year rounder, and you indulge him in the story. He was super nice about it too, which made you angry. Was Luke the only nice guy on the planet?
“But at least you’re happier now, right?” He’d said. You weren’t, you told him that much. He gave you this knowing look you’d never seen on him before, and asked Why?
You shrugged, “I don’t know. I love it here, I do. But I shouldn’t have to uproot my entire life and bring it here just to get some semblance of peace. I shouldn’t have to give up my education, my friends, my dad, just so I don’t have to get harassed every day. It’s not even like my mom gave me anything to help combat it, either. She just made me beautiful and told me to deal with the consequences! I mean,” You let out a weak chuckle, holding up the dagger you’d been toying with, “This was a birthday present from a friend in Cabin Six. Not even my mother, who is a warrior herself, could bother sending me a weapon. They really don’t give two shits about us, do they?”
He’d parted his lips, eyes shining with something, and looked at you through his bottom lashes, “No. They don’t.”
You and Luke grew closer after that. A lot closer. By the time summer rolled around and the rest of the campers returned, you were inseparable. Many rumours spread but you two ignored them in favour of sneaking into that clearing you’d found and talking in whispers about your hatred for the gods. Who cared if they could hear you? Let them.
It was Luke who had come up with the idea to steal the bolt. A quick job, in and out, and maybe then they’d listen to what you’d have to say. But they didn’t — they did exactly what they always did and risked the lives of two young demigods and a satyr just because they couldn’t be bothered doing it themselves. Selfish — that’s what they were. They didn’t care about anyone —
“ — but themselves!” You glared at Thalia, who stood before you atop Mount Tamalpais with her spear in your direction. “I mean, look at your dad. He didn’t care enough to stop the monsters from killing you, oh, but it’s okay because he turned you into a damn tree!”
“This isn’t the way!” Annabeth yelled from afar. Her hair was twisted in a style you’d taught her how to do that first year as a year-rounder. It broke your heart that she couldn’t see how right you and Luke were.
“Curse them, Thalia.” You said plainly, holding up your dagger. Half mortal metal, half celestial bronze. A gift from Luke. “Curse your father and his children. His brothers. Curse them all like they deserve to be cursed! They deserve to be toppled.”
You tilted your head, looking at them all. Luke and your army were heading steadily up the mountain. If you could convince them now, there wouldn’t need to be a battle.
“Where are they now, huh?” You raised both your arms, “You’re fighting for your life against a titan on a mountain and the only god who came to help out was Artemis? And that’s just because she was here already.” You scoffed out a laugh, “You should thank us, really, for taking her. Had we not, you’d be dead already.”
Annabeth watched. You were unrecognisable in that moment — your face streaked with dirt and blood, curled into a dark sneer that any of your siblings would berate you for because of the wrinkles you’d get. You didn’t seem to care all that much, though. Not when Thalia was lunging for you and attempting to pull you out of the rage you were in. Not when her spear and shield were no match for your measly dagger and you went toppling down the mountain.
The next time any of them saw you was in Manhattan — after believing you to be dead for a year and a half, it came as a shock when you emerged from the crowd of monsters. Your hair was hacked short, and one of your legs had been replaced with a bronze prosthetic. You fought with a ruthlessness none of them had seen in you before, whether it be because you were on the losing side or because Luke had given his body to the Lord of Time before you had the chance to tell him you loved him. You were still angry, and even if you hated Kronos, you didn’t hate him nearly as much as you hated the gods.
When Luke died, you were kneeled beside him. Your face was dirty, your hair was knotty, and there was a dent in your bronze leg. He lifted a hand to your face, “I’m sorry to have to say this, but…you’re sorta beautiful.”
“Sorta?”
He grinned, and then he died, and you were filled with such unbridled rage that you pushed yourself down to the ground of Manhattan and tore through Kronos’ army with fire in your eyes, not stopping until Apollo got rid of your sight and forced you to calm down. You didn’t know if you’d ever be calm, since the only person who ever understood you just died in your arms, but you dropped your dagger and stomped your way back up to Olympus like a bratty child anyway.
Zeus didn’t punish you for what you did, but he did say he’d be keeping a firm eye on you. You joined the hunters, much to your mothers disdain, and didn’t ever allow yourself to look back.
#@lia’s works#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians
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August: Nice Girls Don't Stay For Breakfast
part one of fountain of sorrow
⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader
⇢ rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni
⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother!reader [child won’t play a massive role], canon compliant gun violence [starts with a snippet from s1e7], mention of canon compliant violence against women [javi remembers helena], terrible exes, mention of past relationship abuse [nothing specific or graphic], creepy guys [not javi], sassy chucho, alcohol consumption, brief SMUT, car sex, unprotected p in v sex, post-sex photos, cigarettes [are bad for you], javi’s gonna make a good girl dad, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, protective!javi, no use of y/n.
⇢ word count: 7.3k (woof, sorry. there was a lot of exposition to get out)
⇢ series masterlist
⇢ a/n: switching pov’s in this one. very excited to share this series with y’all & would love to know what you think about it! as always, i’ve done my best to tag the warnings, let me know if you think i’ve missed one.
Two shots. One right after the other. That’s all it took before he managed to get his first shot off. Well, that and the sound of lead whizzing by his head. Clear and present threats to his life trying to break skin and shatter bone. In another lifetime maybe he’d have been a little faster. A little quicker to the trigger. When out on raids like this, he wasn’t sure why his finger wasn’t perpetually in a half pulled position anyway. What use was it trying to take these guys alive? They shot first and asked questions second. Why didn’t he? If they had no qualms killing a DEA agent, why’d he take precautions to save that of a sicario?
These are fanciful thoughts. Ones you can only think about after the fact. Ones only after you’ve almost had your life ended, when your adrenaline has played its role – when you’re no longer running through the streets of Medellín, praying that when you round the corner, some guy with a .38 isn’t going to clock you in the head. Bullseye.
Those are thoughts that have to come later because running after a guy nicknamed ‘Sure Shot’ doesn’t instill one with a whole lot of confidence that he’s going to get out of this alive. Hell, maybe it’s lucky Poison fired the first two shots through the window. Maybe it was fate that he’d had those couple seconds to shoot back and make a run for it before Sure Shot lifted his handgun.
Not that anything that followed was lucky.
Murphy had gone after Poison. He’d run after Sure Shot, who, while on the run, seemed to disregard his nickname and the fact that he had a weapon in his hands. Before they’d separated too much, he could hear shots ringing off and knew Murphy wasn’t having the same experience with Poison. Rather unfortunately, the streets were crowded with people going about their daily lives, put right in the middle of the action through no fault of their own other than the misfortune of their geography. They were making it hard for him to keep pace. And should things go even more amiss, they would become collateral damage.
He rolled his ankle once while propelling himself over a wall. When he landed, he knew he fucked up. Not as spry and nimble as he used to be. And surely not as much as the man he was chasing. But they were leaving the crowds. Dodging the busy streets and trading them in for back alleys which left them virtually alone. That was when it really all went to hell. He’d gotten Sure Shot pinned in his crosshairs. One could call it a perfect sting operation as Sure Shot slid his gun over. But if there had been one thing Javier Peña had learned being in Colombia, it was that he should never count on being lucky, especially when it came to anything Pablo Escobar related. Because money spoke, but it spoke louder in the slums.
And the child that had arrived pointing a handgun at him, demanding Sure Shot be let go? Sometimes twenty dollars looked too damn good. And to a child who’d been exposed to cartel violence for the entirety of his life; being handed a gun with the money was like a dream come true. They weren’t playing cowboys and indians. They were playing policía y sicarios.
Up until that point, the worst thing he ever had to do was point his government issued sidearm at that child. He didn’t know it at the time, but that would eventually lose its place on his growing list of ‘worst things he’d done’. He couldn’t even blame the kid who was only acting in favor of a hero, so he added it to the list of reasons to hate Escobar.
Javi blinked. He was no longer in Bogotá or Medellín, but in Laredo, Texas. His hometown. Gone were the days of chasing someone down and being shot at, for now at least. Now his days consisted of helping his dad out on the ranch or DEA desk work. That was the one perk to Laredo. It sat right up against the US, Mexico border with an international airport a stone's throw away on the Mexico side, in Nuevo Laredo. It was just the right place for a DEA field office to set up and watch drugs try to enter the US. But it was also the place Javi had run from. The first chance he got, despite conversations with his father about how he could run but he might not like what he found. Truth was, he didn’t. The world outside Laredo was… pretty terrible. But he never regretted leaving. There had been some remorse there for what had happened with Lorraine, but never regret.
Javier closed his mouth and swallowed. It had run dry in his moment of blacking out. Honestly, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten into a car wreck. He rested his arm on the car door and drummed his fingers against the hot metal. It had spent the better half of the day baking in the sun while he sat at border watch. Now it’d bake a little longer while he helped fix a fence on his dad’s ranch.
He glanced out his window, squinting despite the sunglasses over his eyes and had to do a quick double take. You gotta be kidding me. Going along the sidewalk, arms swinging haphazardly, a little girl walked all by herself. She couldn’t have been more than six. Pigtails bounced with each step she took. Little Mary Jane shoes buckled over white socks, a navy blue and white checkered dress. She looked entirely out of place in the horribly country town. An innocent little creature in a world full of wolves. And as Javi continued to watch her, slowing down to accommodate for a red light but also to keep in line with her, he saw the wolves start to come out. The little girl remained oblivious to all of it, as a child who doesn’t know the world is full of evil would. A stark contrast to a lot of the children in Colombia.
Though she was able to continue on her way without notice of the world around her, Javi couldn’t. Not as she passed a group of boys on bikes – probably only a few years older than her – and how they tugged on her pigtails when she walked by. She waved her hands at them, brushing them out of her ringlets, the permanent smile not leaving her face for a second. The boys followed her for a few steps after she passed, probably thinking she’d pay them some attention if they teased her loud enough. But the moment they were behind her and no longer in her line of vision, it was like she had forgotten they’d ever been alive. Not once did she turn around to them, and finding this game now boring, the boys turned back and pedaled away. But those boys were the least of her worries. Sure, the boys were annoying but they proved to be no real threat. Kids didn’t carry guns here like they did in Medellín. At least, Javi didn’t think they did.
There was, however, a real threat. Or one Javi perceived to be a real threat. He doubted the little angel realized she was walking through a potential lion’s den. Now fully stopped at the red light, he kept his focus squarely on her. He didn’t want to think too hard about how useless he was while actually in his car, but regardless, he continued to watch. She skipped past a group of three men. Using the profiling skills the DEA had drilled into him, he figured these guys were around his age, though a little worse for wear. Each had a cigarette hanging from their lips and beer bellies hanging from beneath shirts. And every single one watched the little girl pass by. The conversation the men had been having stopped almost immediately, and gave way to what could best be described as ogling. Only once did one of the men manage to tear his eyes away to glance up and down the street. As if fully realizing this little angel was indeed alone they all started to chuckle.
The red light had thwarted the little girl’s advance. She reached up on tip toes and pressed her tiny fingers against the metal pedestrian button. Traffic in front of her and the group of men behind her, she was trapped in the middle. Javi almost thought he’d just continue on his way. That girl’s parents had made the decision to let their child walk alone. Prey to the world. And he had responsibilities to get through. His dad would tear him a new one if he was late. The fence had to be fixed by nightfall to keep coyotes from killing the chickens. He really thought he’d go on his way.
But they whistled at her.
And though not in the way Javi had been guilty of doing to a hooker or two, but in a way of trying to get her attention in lieu of candy. They whistled at her. And he prayed she’d continue to ignore the world around her. For just a second more.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Javi tore his eyes away from her long enough to look over his right shoulder, make sure he was in the clear, and then broke a few traffic laws to get to the curb. He threw his car in park, mumbled another profanity to himself, and got out of his car. Even breaking a few more laws to cross the street as the light turned green. But he had to get to her. Maybe to the public, he looked no better than the guys who had whistled at her. But he knew himself. He trusted himself a helluva lot more than he trusted those guys. So dodging traffic, he ran to her side of the street as the men advanced toward her. Despite the light now showing the little walking man, giving her the right of way, she didn’t move from the curb. Just stared at the street as Javi approached, “muñequita!”
The sound of his voice was enough to get the men to pivot on their heels and walk away from her. Javi was glad about that. He didn’t want to try to go up against three beer bellies. But the sound of his voice hadn’t been enough to get her attention. He tried again, now stepping up onto the curb beside her, “muñequita.”
Finally she looked at him. Hands clasped in front of her, head tilted back, and big, brown, soulful eyes looked up into his. The smile still on her face. Painfully unaware of the world around her. “Muñequita, where’re you going all by yourself?”
“Home,” she lifted one hand and pointed straight ahead.
Javi looked in the direction of her hand, finding that the light had already turned red again. He reached past her and hit the metal button again. “Where’s your mom?”
“She’s working!” the little voice chirped. High-pitched and very clear. Obviously, strange man, mommy is working.
“What about your dad? Where’s he?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know.”
Javi pursed his lips and nodded. He must’ve been out of the picture. Surely wasn’t the first deadbeat dad in the world. Javier crouched down, wincing, and rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. “It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, muñequita. Can I drive you home?”
The little girl shook her head but the smile remained, “mommy said not to get in stranger’s cars.”
“That’s right. Your mommy’s very smart.” He looked back at the streetlight. It had turned green for them again. “Can I walk you home, then?”
She nodded enthusiastically, probably just happy to have a ‘friend’ along for the walk that she could muse too. So Javi stepped off the curb and started crossing the street. But when he looked down to ask her if she knew her address, he found that she wasn’t beside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and found her standing on the edge of the curb. Her arm outstretched. Her delicate little hand opening and closing in his direction. Help, help, help. He took a breath and lowered his head sheepishly, he should’ve known, and made the few steps back to her. With his hand held open, she slotted hers in it and jumped off the curb with flair, skipping along to keep up with him.
It melted his heart. This sweet, little creature. A Lamb of God. And though she wasn’t pointing a gun at his face, she reminded him a lot of that little Colombian boy in Medellín. That boy had been given a gun and left alone. Sent to do the work of a drug lord who was far too willing to sacrifice a child’s life as long as it wasn’t his own. And this one… what was to become of this angelita left alone? If the crimes he’d seen committed against children in Colombia hadn’t been bad enough, the crimes he witnessed against women had been. At that moment, looking down at the little girl, Javier only thought of Helena. He wondered where she was. Where she ended up. Had she gotten to America? Had it been kind to her?
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Javi knocked on the front door and took a step back. He glanced down at the little girl, her hand still firmly gripping his. She hadn’t let go of it since they crossed the street. It also wasn’t the only thing she didn’t stop doing on the rest of the walk. She hadn’t stopped talking. About the clouds, every dog they passed, her school friends and their first grade-sized drama. He’d learned she was five and a quarter and one of the youngest in her class. Her favorite color was purple. And she liked her scooter because she was afraid of her bike.
And above all, she did not seem concerned that there was no answer at her house. Javi knocked again, but the girl pulled her hand out of his and ran back down the porch step, down the small paved path, and cut across to the lawn. Javi immediately turned and went after her, taking a couple steps in her direction before he slowed down when he saw what she had set out to do. Crouched down, singing to herself, she plucked a flower from the grass and came skipping back to him.
“Look!” She thrust the tiny flower in his direction.
He glanced at it, shifting his focus between the little, yellow flower and her. “Wow,” he feigned excitement.
She tugged on his hand again, “‘s a buttercup! Sit, I want to see if you’re good!”
Javi took a deep breath and looked around the neighborhood, wondering if anyone had seen him arrive with her. If they were suspicious as to what some random man was doing with a little child that wasn’t his. But she tugged on his hand again so he sat on the step and she curled in closer to him, resting her free hand on his leg.
“See!” She held the flower beneath her chin, “‘f’it glows lellow, that means you’re good!” She grinned and got impossibly closer to him. “Is it lellow?”
He ducked his head and spotted a faint colorful glow on her chin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the sun was reflecting it. “Yeah, it’s yellow,”
“I’m good!” She shrieked and reached her hand towards Javi’s face, “lemme see if it’s lellow for you,”
Javier stretched his neck, raising his chin to give her access to the spot she needed for her experiment. There was a little pause, the petals brushing against the bottom of his chin as she inspected it. His eyes locked on her, watching.
“It is!”
She yanked her hand away and Javi lowered his chin, a new, wide grin spread across his face. “I’m good?” he asked, looping his arm around her back when she flung the flower away and scooted in closer to him.
The little girl nodded and opened her mouth to say something else but her attention was quickly diverted when a set of tires crackled along the gravel driveway. She hopped to her feet excitedly, but stayed planted beside Javier, her hand clutching his leg to steady herself.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Panic set in at the sight of an unknown man sitting, waiting at your house. The panic turned heart-stopping when you saw that that unknown man had his arm wrapped around your young daughter. Worse, he seemed to be smiling… beaming… at her. As if he’d found the greatest of prizes. Though his smile did vanish upon the sound of your tires crunching along the gravel driveway.
And the way you exited your car? With speed you didn’t know was in you. The story you’d heard about a mama bear instinct kicking in, in times of crisis had never exposed itself as fiercely as it did in this moment. It had only come in shades of gray before. Now it was full on technicolor. You were seeing it in living color and it felt as though you’d been removed from your body, floating above it all, getting a bird’s eye view. The way this man stood clutching onto your daughter’s hand, and the way she hesitated to obey your command to get away from him in order to give him a hug around the leg. A bitterness rose in your throat and only slightly settled when she finally bounded toward you. Still from your bird’s eye view, it was as if you watched yourself inspect her for harm done but found none. And temporarily satisfied, you suggested she carry on to the backyard. A gated safe haven and more importantly, far, far away from the strange, mustached man, staring at you both.
She obliged, as she always did. She was an angel. And after your ex – her father – all but split at the pregnancy announcement, an angel was exactly what you needed. The expectation was never that you’d become a single parent, but you figured it was a better option than sticking around with that deadbeat. Which, as you approached the stranger on your porch, made you wonder… where was that deadbeat? It was his day to pick her up from school.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You spat, now in killing distance if you so pleased to do to this guy. “So help me, I will cut off your dick and balls, put it on a pike, and march it through town! She’s five for fuck’s sake!”
Javi to his credit, not particularly known for his abundant patience, didn’t yell back. Didn’t fly off the handle in a fit of anger. Didn’t even let his expression show the slightest hint of sorrow. In fact, he had a smile on his face. And if that didn’t piss you the hell off even more.
“Is this your thing? You follow a little girl home, scoop her up, and poof! She vanishes. You fuck right off.”
Smile still plastered on his face, clearly finding some form of enjoyment from this spectacle you were putting on. But when the rampage simmered down, awaiting an answer, he lifted his hand, palm turned upward in an invitation to embrace yours, and grinned a little wider, “Javier Peña, DEA.”
You scoffed, staring his hand down and crossing your arms over your chest, “you think it’s better that you’re a cop? One bad apple…”
He rested his hands on his hips, “technically a Fed. For drug enforcement. And as far as I know, she didn’t have any coke-laced lollipops on her.”
You opened your mouth for another smart response, anything to show that you had the upper hand here. Concerning your kin. On your property. But Javi took a step forward, effectively forcing you back off the singular porch step, and there he stood towering over you, on the high ground. Though he would’ve towered over you anyway, even had you been on equal footing.
“If I were a cop, I’d be lecturin’ you about how it’s irresponsible to let your child walk home alone. And worse that she’s only five, as you so generously pointed out. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, you need to be worryin’ about the fuckin’ group of men whistling at her. Tryna get her attention.” He stepped off the porch, now on even ground with you, and just as suspected, he towered over you. Broad shoulders straining against a button-down cotton shirt, square jaw and strong nose to boot. “You don’t have to believe this, but I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life today. ‘cause in my line of work, I have seen kids go poof. And for the little girls, they’re lucky if they go poof. It’s usually a helluva lot better than the alternative,”
Despite the height difference, you stepped closer, coming face to chest. Doing your best threatening glare. “If I see you around my daughter again, I will parade your severed penis around town like it’s a fourth of July float. Do not fucking try me, Javier Peña,”
It wasn’t until you let yourself inside the house and slammed the door behind you, that the smile returned to Javi’s face and he crossed through the front yard to get back to the sidewalk. While talk about one’s severed penis was rarely a reason to smile, it was one of the least violent things that he’d been threatened with and he figured that sort of punishment was far better than the kind that he’d watched Los Pepes commit in Colombia. And, yes, the cause had been just – in the effort to take down Pablo Escobar. But he knew the ease with which Los Pepes murdered sicarios in Medellín would one day be turned against him. They would have found a justification for his murder. And that, mixed with the fact that what he was doing was definitely illegal, was the reason he was back in Laredo. And the reason he’d been able to keep the muñequita safe today.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
He knew he wouldn’t make it to Chucho’s ranch before sundown. No chance. And his dad, also not particularly known for his patience (at least where it concerned his son), wasn’t bound to be too pleased about his son’s absence today. Hopefully he’d managed to fix the fence without him.
Javier’s suspicions proved to be correct when he pulled up his father’s long, dirt driveway and came upon the main house just as Chucho and his longtime ranch hand, Pancho, were stepping out the front door. For the second time that day, Javi found himself murmuring, “fuck,” beneath his breath.
Headlights illuminated the two older gentlemen, who still donned their boots, cowboy hats, and dusty jeans from their laborious day. Javi threw the car in park nearly before he hit the brakes, surely stripping the gears, and hopped out of the cab, ready to plead his case.
Chucho held up his hand. The wrinkles etched deep in his skin after decades of hard work in the sun. “No mames!” He shook his head and muttered to himself, “pinche naco. You owe Pancho a couple beers.” The elder Peña rounded to the driver side of his truck with Pancho letting himself into the passenger side. But before he fully entered the cab, Chucho looked back at Javi with a shout, “meet us at the Tack Room!”
The Tack Room. One of a handful of watering holes in town that boasted a kitschy barn theme. But it had the distinction of being the only one that was actually in an old barn. It had been transformed into the bar in Chucho’s young adulthood, and it had been his go-to place ever since Javier could remember. It was nothing fancy. Just a small town dive. Truly a place for locals though it wasn’t as if Laredo had much tourist appeal. Drinks were cheap. Domestic beers hovered around a buck. The food was greasy. Perfect for soaking up the alcohol already consumed and making patrons believe they could tolerate more. To Chucho it was home away from home, and to Javier, it was the place he’d gotten hooked on cigarettes. And places like it had been the reason he’d been so keen on leaving town as soon as he could. In a town as small as this, the local dives harbored three types of people:
The townsfolk who gossiped and got into everyone’s business.
The rancheros who never thought about leaving town.
And the deadbeats who never even tried.
And he’d gone to school with a lot of those in column number three. It was the bubble. People settled down here with jobs that barely paid the bills. They got married and started families. Those kids grew up, and never having the care, ambition, or opportunity to venture outside of southern Texas, stayed put. They fell in line with the work they’d watched their parents do and eventually started having babies of their own. And the cycle continued. All Javier knew was he had to get the hell out of there. So he did… despite the lump of guilt in his stomach about leaving his aging father behind. And when leaving brought him all the way to Colombia, Javi never thought he’d step foot in The Tack Room ever again.
It never failed to smell like sweat, burnt oil, and sawdust. A unique odor that all but singed his nose hairs and left him thinking his sense of smell would forever be compromised. The taste of Tecate didn’t even help. Not even the second one they were all on.
“Did you get the fence up, dad?” Javier asked, side-eyeing the girls at the next table over. If they weren’t old classmates or old girlfriends, he’d have a chance at warming up his bed tonight. They both looked like strangers to him. He could take his pick… or perhaps get both.
“No thanks to you, pendejo.”
“Alright, pop,” He took another sip from his pint glass. “I said I was sorry. I got held up, what do you want from me?”
Chucho lifted his cowboy hat off his head and smoothed out his hair before placing the hat back on. “Don’t think askin’ my son to stick to his word is too much. Instead Pancho has to help and his back’s–” Chucho interrupted himself. Then, looking past his son, and with a tone that dripped soft saccharine, “hola, chiquita!”
“Hola, Chucho!”
“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
The day hadn’t been great to say the least. No day in Laredo was great but thanks to a deadbeat baby daddy and an even deader-beat judge, it was where you were holed up. Traded in San Antonio for it and cursed yourself everyday. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t any getting out of Laredo. Not for you. Not for any of the townies you’d come to recognize. Everyone just stayed put. The reason as to why hadn’t yet revealed itself. There wasn’t anything great in Laredo.
Well maybe that wasn’t entirely true.
A deadbeat baby daddy for an ex was the reason you were here but without him you wouldn’t have had actual sunshine for a daughter. How she ended up like that while being genetically half of him, you’d never know. But if having chosen a different guy meant you’d never had her, it’s a mistake you would’ve made over and over and over again. She was just about the greatest thing ever planted on God’s green earth.
And your job wasn’t so bad. Your first job, at least. There was some sort of cruel irony that job number one was as a clerk in the same courthouse where that deadbeat judge had told you it’d be “beneficial for the girl to grow up around her father”. He obviously didn’t know, or care to learn, just how terrible that guy was. Truthfully anyone – literally anyone – would be better off not being around him. But clerking was a job nonetheless. One with a steady schedule and pay. Easy to plan life around. Not like the second job.
Very few good arguments could be made for The Tack Room. And even less for being a bartender there. Originally you thought a small town bar only full of locals meant that everyone would treat you kindly. But you learned people were pretty much dicks anywhere you went in the world. See, a small town bar full of locals meant that the patrons started to get a little too comfortable. And since no respectable woman would be caught dead drinking at The Tack Room, it meant the place was full with large, aggressively masculine men, who’d spent the day working in the sun or bumming it on the couch while their woman brought everything to the table. And those large, aggressively masculine men, when given liquid courage, started to think they were God’s gift to humanity. Glorified machines to move their penises from one room to another. A normal shift meant being catcalled, grabbed, hugged, or pinched more times than you had fingers. The other girls blushed and cowered and took that behavior. They were raised here – worse, they’d known some of the older men who were now pinching their asses, as children.
Not you. You could thank your deadbeat ex for that. No man was ever going to lay a hand on you like that again.
“Hola chiquita!” The soundwaves drifted in your direction, wrapping the sing-song lilt around your atmosphere, and settling warm in your chest.
Actually, there was one good thing about The Tack Room. Chucho Peña. A quiet, aging gentleman from a bygone era; he was an unforeseen light. He’d liked you since the day he met you a year or so back, here at the bar. First shift, carrying a tray of empty beer bottles, Pepe Hernandez (that asshole) grabbed you by the back pocket of your jeans, pulled you back into him until you were seated in his lap and while he thought he was hung like a horse, you realized he was working with a chode. You told him as such – something mean and cutting since he’d already been rude with you – and instead of quietly nursing his bruised ego, he cocked a fist back and tried to take a swing.
Another thing to thank your deadbeat ex for. He taught you that fists were fast but your reflexes could be faster. You dropped the tray, beer bottles crashing to the sawdust floor, and dodged his hand. He may’ve missed but you never did. Landed one punch straight to his nose. With the commotion, you could hear your boss rumbling, coming out from the kitchen to see what the matter was. And before you knew it your little unforeseen light, Chucho Peña, was beside you. He nudged you out of the way and stood over Pepe.
Your eyes widened at Chucho, but your boss arrived at the scene you’d created but Chucho was taking credit for. He wanted to holler and cuss someone out. Crack some skulls for causing a ruckus. But finding Chucho (who, you’d later found out, had given your now boss his first ranching job as a teenager), your boss backed down and kicked Pepe out.
That first night, Chucho had given you his classic Peña wink and introduced himself. He didn’t like men around acting like fools and making his beer taste bad. But he liked you. Liked your grit. Your guts. And maybe because he knew you could rip him apart, he always treated you extra nice. To make up for the fact that no one else did.
“Hola, Chucho!” You yelled back over the noise of the bar.
“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”
You handed your purse to the bartendress behind the already crowded bar and got an apron from her in return. Wrapped it around your waist and tied it tightly around your waist on your way over to the table Chucho and Pancho were sitting at. Chucho had mentioned his son only a couple times in passing. You got the sense it was a sensitive subject and never cared to pry too much.
But this son… your blood ran cold at the sight of him. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, clean shaven save for the mustache…
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Out of all the faces he imagined coming up to the table per his father’s offering, he never guessed it’d be you. And that fact made a little chuckle erupt from his throat when he held out his hand for an introduction you didn’t need.
“Hey, chiquita,” he smirked, all charm and nerve. Even more pleased with himself when you shoved your hand into his and told him your actual name.
But less pleased after you practically ignored him after that. Only spent a couple minutes making small talk with Chucho, trying to remain polite despite wanting to get the fuck away from his son. Maybe one day you’d fill the elder Peña in on how his son was caught with a five year old.
After you politely excused yourself from the table so you could get to work, and Javier realized he’d been practically silent the entire time, he glanced at his dad and found him gearing up for a ribbing.
“Didn’t you used to have game with the ladies?” Chucho grinned and took a sip of his beer.
“She’s not my type,” Javi grumbled.
“Ah ha. You mean she’d take a bit of work,” Chucho nodded, easing his cowboy hat back out of his eyes. “Son, it’s the women like that, that you gotta hold on to,”
Javi shook his head absently, trying to write off his dad’s comments. But he still spent the rest of the night glancing back at the bar every now and again to get a glimpse of you. He wondered how much “work” it’d take him until you bent for him just like every other woman. To his dismay, you didn’t come back to the table the rest of the night. Instead, another waitress made the rounds and filled up the beers. She didn’t seem to have any problem with him. She’d be an easy one to get. But his dad’s words rang in his ears, and despite the waitress putting in a mighty effort to get his attention, he just kept looking back at you.
Until about midnight when he needed to close out. That waitress had stopped coming around when Chucho and Pancho left and she realized she wasn’t going to get any attention from him. He stood from the table and wandered over to the bar, pulling his leather billfold out of his wallet. Foot propped up on the kick step beneath the bar, and forearms on the wood bar top, he smiled when you made eye contact with him, practically forced to help him.
“Closing out?” you asked, noncommittally.
He nodded affirmatively, waiting until you were back in front of him with the printed tab before he asked, “who’s watchin’ your kid now?”
And you could deck him. Really could. Put some serious thought into it. But he seemed to catch on that his little joke wasn’t too funny.
“Sorry,” he bowed and slid his credit card over to you.
You ran his card, taking deep breaths so that when you turned around to face him, you wouldn’t be seeing complete red. It worked just a bit, and when you turned to hand the bill back to him, you only saw shades of dark pink. “Chucho never mentioned his son was DEA. Sounds like a lie,”
Javier smiled again. While he slid his credit card back into his wallet, he simultaneously slid out the badge that got him into the local office. Presenting it to you and adding the same blank expression on his face as his picture on the badge, he figured you believed him.
“She talked about you all day,” you shook your head and ran a towel over the bar to wipe away lingering condensation. It gave you something to do other than get lost in his eyes. “The buttercups told her you were good,”
“Not sure who taught her that, but buttercups aren’t very good judges of character,”
“I did,”
He pressed his lips together and leaned a little closer to the bar. “Well, they’re not. But they didn’t lie,”
You nodded, relenting. “Then I guess I should thank you. And apologize for that stuff about severing your penis and marching it through town,”
“Trust me, I’m sure you’re not the only woman in Laredo interested in separating me from my penis,”
“It does some damage, doesn’t it?”
A flush worked its way up to Javi’s cheeks and he laughed softly. He figured he’d let that one go without response. Your brain could imagine for itself what kind of damage he could do.
“I’m off in a half hour. If you stick around, I can show you how sorry I am,”
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Maybe this not so great day was turning around. That’s the only explanation you could think of as to why you were currently seated on Javi’s lap in the passenger seat of your car, knees planted on either side of his waist, pressing against the coarse seat fabric. Tight t-shirt pushed up as far as it would go with your arms still in the sleeves. High enough for your breasts to be exposed; lace bra hiding the last bit of skin you had to offer. His hands had a crushing hold on your hips, rocking your body along his length. He was perpetually bottomed out, the lack of space giving no chance for reprieve. You brought one hand to the back of his neck while the other flung up and pressed against the roof of the car, trying to keep yourself down despite your body involuntarily inching away from him. Not that the confines of the space, or his grip on you, would let you get too far.
“C’mon, give it to me,” he growled with a labored breath.
A moan ripped through your chest and throat. Thighs quivered around Javi’s hips, which he undoubtedly felt because a chuckle rumbled past his lips and into the space between you both. You lowered your head, looking down into his eyes which were already boring into your soul.
“Already?”
“Shut up, Peña,”
He snapped his hips upward, where the head of his cock pressed against your cervix, searching for entry into a depth your body couldn’t accommodate. But entry wasn’t the ultimate goal, it was just to prove to you that he could. So he wrapped one arm around you, keeping you pinned to him where every movement of your body on his created friction against your clit.
“Javi, querida. It’s Javi,”
Your head lolled forward and tucked into his neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses. Despite you being on top of him, he seemed to be everywhere. His body encompassed yours like a weighted blanket. Arms snaked around you to keep you close, as if you had any intention of furthering yourself from the pleasure he was giving you. “Javi,” his name lingered on your lips, singing two syllables that had never sounded so sweet. “I’m gonna come,” you gasped into his neck, closing your mouth and suckling gently on his skin.
He smiled and licked his lips, trying to focus on the feeling of your mouth on his neck. Anything to not give in to the feeling of your anatomy squeezing him within an inch of his life. He didn’t need you to tell him you were close; he could tell. “I feel it. Feel you pulling me deeper,” he lowered his head closer to your ear, his arm doing most of the work to keep your body in its steady rhythm, thrusting along him. “Go on, soak me. Give me your best,”
“Javi, Javi,” you panted. Then quickly, your head was pulled away from his neck. Both his hands cupped around your cheeks, forcing you to look down into his heads.
You tried to lose the eye contact by squeezing your eyes shut, but Javi shook you to attention. “Let me see those eyes when you come all over me,”
Eyes snapped open, pleading. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack. Javi lifted his hips to meet the shifting of your body and that’s when you went rigid. Hands curling into fists and shaking. Your body jerked on top of him, an otherworldly cry erupting through you. He held on tight, leaning over and biting into your shoulder as you continued to tremble through your high. The breath hitched in your throat and it took a few seconds before a new deep lungful air entered your body. By that point, Javier was flexing and shaking beneath you.
“Where–shit–”
He knew you heard him too late. No doubt the throbbing of the pulse in your ears had blocked off the rest of the world. Unable to hear anything over the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins and the shattered cry coming out of your throat. So that by the time you did hear his question, it was too late. And Javi, just as he wasn’t known for his patience, also wasn’t known for his restraint – and yet somehow had the presence of mind and the wherewithal to physically lift you off his member just seconds before he came with a groan; thick spend coating his stomach.
You stared at it, watching the droplets create a line down toward the base of his cock, slaves to gravity. Only when he wrapped a large paw over your thigh and gave it a squeeze, did you blink and look back into his eyes.
“Good?” He asked in the same moment you leaned forward, finding himself face first in your breasts, “hello,” he smirked against your skin and bit into the fleshy mounds.
You squealed, searching blindly in the backseat with your hand before your fingertips found what they’d be looking for. And pulling back, with your free hand latching onto Javi’s hair and giving it a playful tug, you produced a Polaroid camera.
“‘S’that for?” he cocked his head to the side.
But you didn’t answer him. Just quickly held it up to your eye, peered through the viewfinder and snapped the photo.
“Hey!” He snatched the photo away as it printed, currently just a gray square, waiting for the final image to appear. “What is this? Blackmail? You take pictures of all your conquests,”
You laughed and grabbed the photo right back, placing it in your bra and lowering your shirt. “You’re not that special, Peña,”
Leaning back while still on his lap to create more distance for the camera, you held it back up to your eye and inspected the frame. This time his face didn’t make the cut, but his chest, down to his stomach still donning his come with his member laid back against it did. Along with your bare thighs straddling him, one of his hands still had real estate on your skin. You snapped that picture, too, and flipped it over to its blank side. With a pen in the center console courtesy of The Tack Room, you wrote your number and handed the picture to Javi.
He was out of your car before the thing had even finished developing. And in the darkness of the parking lot, he wouldn’t have been able to see the image even if it had been. A cigarette was in his mouth by the time you peeled out of the lot, and his nerves were settling with the overhead lights in his car flicking on. That was when he saw just what you’d snapped the second time. Two bodies. Anonymous. His cock rested limp against his stomach. Your legs secured around his hips. And a phone number on the back with the instruction, call me, Peña.
#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x you#javier pena narcos#javier pena x female reader#javier pena x f!reader#ppcu fanfiction#ppcu#javier pena smut#javier pena angst#javier pena fluff#narcos fanfiction#narcos fic#javier pena fic
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Coffee Shop Woes
Part 2: First Date Jitters
Part 3: Late Night Confessions
Matt Murdock x AFAB Reader
Word Count: 3900
Summary: You’re pretty sure you want to have his babies, but you don’t even know his name. Maybe you’ll actually speak to him next time you see him, but it’s unlikely. Very unlikely.
Trigger warning: the devastation that is Matt Murdock's charm.
Masterlist
You see him every Tuesday.
This little coffee shop, in the heart of Hell's Kitchen, had become your favorite place to frequent for your mid-morning pick me up shortly after you had moved to New York. You found yourself there often, sneaking away from the office for a small chunk of time to grab a latte and one of their to die for blueberry muffins. It was just a few blocks away from where you worked, and the quick walk usually provided enough time to shake off the drowsiness that set in from an 8am boring as all fuck team meeting.
One morning, you had stumbled into the shop half an hour later than usual, bleary eyed and head pounding from staring at too many spreadsheets, only to see him there, calmly waiting on his cup of coffee. Dark hair, a devastatingly charming smile, and dark red glasses you'd sell your digity for to see behind.
He had been flirting with the barista, his ever-so-slightly raspy baritone floating through the shop, and you had struggled to remember your own coffee order, clumsily spitting it out to the woman behind the register. Before you could even finish paying, he had his fresh coffee in his hand, and was making his way to leave, white cane tapping on the floor in front of him. Someone opened the door for him, and he was gone.
If you stared longingly after him, people were polite enough to ignore it.
Despite your frequency at the coffee shop, it took a few weeks for you to nail down his routine.
He was there every Tuesday around the 10 o'clock hour. You had adjusted your schedule slightly to fit his, hoping to catch a glimpse of him when you could. Sometimes you were there before him, sometimes he was on his way out as you watched from half a block away, but for the most part, you got to see his stupidly handsome face for at least a few seconds.
It was barely enough to get you through the day, and by the following Tuesday, you were more than ready for your weekly fix sighting of him.
You often had to remind yourself that following him to his next destination would be borderline stalker behavior, and the last thing you wanted was a restraining order from the man of all your dreams and dirty fantasies.
For five long weeks, you waited for someone to randomly blurt out his name, or for him to introduce himself to someone close by so that you could overhear it. This seemed to be the best way to learn it, you reasoned, as you were too chicken shit to actually say a word to the man.
Like you, he was a regular at the coffee shop. The baristas seemed to know him well, and when he ordered his drink, they never needed to call his name out when it was ready. But one day, much to your ever-lasting happiness, a new barista asked him his name while taking down his order, and you had arrived just in time to hear him give it.
Matthew.
Names shouldn't carry so much on its shoulders, but his held your heart, and it didn't even know it.
You cursed the traitorous muscle that beat inside your chest.
You found yourself mouthing his name, standing a few people behind him in line, a helplessly dopey smile on your face that you're sure looked absolutely ridiculous, and you didn't notice the way his head tilted slightly in your direction as he handed the woman his credit card.
For months you found yourself watching him. You felt like it was on the edge of creepy, but you told yourself that coming to this coffee shop had already been your Tuesday routine, long before you had seen him for the first time. You were able to pine from afar, made all the way easier by the fact that he couldn't actually see you do it.
You weren't sure if that made your pining more or less creepy, now that you thought about it.
"You could always just talk to him, you know," Brittany said to you one time as she made your latte.
"What?" Your eyes snapped up to her face from your phone, the Facebook personality quiz you'd been taking momentarily forgotten.
"Oh, please," she laughed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Your heart eyes are so obvious it hurts."
Horrified, you looked at her, feeling the blood draining from your face. "Did he...? Did you...what do you mean by that?"
"You come here every Tuesday like clockwork, and I see you scan the shop for him every damn time. I can't decide if it's pathetic or adorable," she snickered. She finished making your drink before handing it to you from across the counter. "Maybe you should actually talk to him some time. He's a nice guy. Single, in case you're wondering."
"What...I don't...how would you even know that?" You demanded, trying to come across as nonchalant and failing miserably.
"Because sometimes his friend Foggy comes in with him, and that man is always trying to set Matt up with whatever barista is working."
"Oh."
"He's always joking, of course, but you can tell deep down that he's kinda serious. Seems Matt has probably been single for a while."
"How is a man like that perpetually single?" You asked incredulously. "You've seen his face, right? The gods sculpted that jawline themselves. The gods, Brittany."
Brittany snickered. "And that suit isn't hiding anything. You can just tell he's probably ripped underneath."
You groaned. "Ugh, I know. I've spent too much time staring at those straining buttons on his button-up."
"Same here, my friend."
You shook your head at her, a look on your face that could only be described as exasperated, even as you smiled. "Was your point to get me worked up before going back to work? Or was it to point out that he's extraordinarily out of my league?"
Brittany shrugged her shoulders, grinning. "My point was that Matt's a flirt, but he's not seeing anyone. Shoot your shot. He may not be able to see you undressing him with your eyes, but everyone else can. Maybe it's time to do something about it."
You nodded your head awkwardly, before making a beeline for the front door, cursing Brittany for putting dangerous thoughts in your head. To your horror, the man in question entered the coffee shop on your way out, and you audibly squeaked before stepping around him, avoiding his cane as it tapped in front of him. Brittany's laugh followed you out the door.
In the following weeks, even as you continued to bury your head in the sand when it came to the man you secretly hoped would father your children, you couldn't help but ask Brittany what she knew about him.
"You really should just ask him yourself," she flat out laughed at you.
Rude.
"Come on, Brittany," you groaned. "You know I have the social skills of pre-7th year Neville Longbottom. I am awkward as all fuck and my flirting skills are non-existent."
She snorted.
"I think you can manage a hello, at the very least."
"Please," you all but begged her. It definitely wasn't your proudest moment. "Just a tiny bit of additional information so I know what I'm dealing with."
"Fine," she said with a look of fond exasperation as she handed another patron their coffee. "He's a lawyer, has his own practice with his friends. Known around here as someone who takes cases regardless if the person can pay all the legal fees. Just wants to make sure people have full representation, even if they can't always afford it."
"So he's attractive and an actual good person. That's just.. perfect. Why couldn't he be an asshole?" You resisted the urge to smack your head on the counter, repeatedly. "That would make things easier."
"Would him being an asshole make you stop staring at him like you want to have him for dinner and dessert?"
"Absolutely not."
Brittany laughed again, certainly taking no pity on your apparent misery. "Just talk to him. You never know."
The coffee shop was large enough to avoid speaking and bumping into people, so it justified your reasoning for not striking up a conversation with the man. And despite Brittany's teasing encouragement, it was two more weeks before you actually said anything to him.
To be fair, speaking with him that random Tuesday morning hadn't necessarily been by choice, so you couldn't take credit for the idea. For all of Brittany's nudging, you were still far too shy to say anything.
You entered the coffee shop, unsurprised to see a line ahead of you, and were disappointed to see that Matt wasn't there. Perhaps you had missed him, and you mourned the loss. Sighing, sad that you were doomed to go without your weekly dose of Matthew, you tried not to show the disappointment on your face, knowing would Brittany notice and mercilessly call you out on it.
When it was your turn to order, you took a step forward towards the counter, smiling at Natalie, the young woman behind the register. She greeted you by name, throwing a smile your way, but stopped you before you could place your order.
"So, our credit card system is down right now," she said apologetically. "We've tried rebooting it a few times, but it's still causing issues. Are you able to pay with cash?"
The bell on the door chimed behind you as it opened, but you didn't pay any attention to it.
Your hand reached into your purse and immediately dug out your wallet, frowning when you realized you didn't have any cash stuffed in it. You sighed internally as you looked back up at her. "Uh...no. I don't have cash on me. Do you happen to know where the nearest ATM is?"
"No need," a familiar baritone interrupted Natalie before she could answer. "I've got it."
You didn't need to turn around to know who had just spoken. Days, weeks, months of fantasizing and memorizing that voice had made sure of that.
Your heart skipped a beat, a strangled noise unwillingly clawing its way out of your throat.
Slowly, you spun around to face him, noting the wide smile on his lips and your reflection in his red glasses. He stood a few inches taller than you, just under six feet, and his tie was ever so slightly crooked.
It was so downright charming that you almost hated him for it. Almost.
"No, no, it's ok," you rushed to get out once you finished not-so subtly running your eyes over his lean, but clearly muscled frame. Did he have to fill it out so good? Jesus. "You don't have to do that. It's fine, I'll just go grab cash."
"Or you could just buy me a cup of coffee next time you're in here at 10am," he shrugged, his fingers already opening up his wallet as he leaned around you to rest his cane against the counter. Your eyes widened at the implication behind his words.
"How would you-"
"How would I even know you're in here?" He asked, eyebrows raised, sly grin on his lips. "I'm good at picking out voices and recognizing them. You're always here on Tuesdays, too, and oddly enough, usually at the same time as me."
"It's a coincidence."
"I'm sure it is." He was smirking.
You hesitated slightly, before you slowly put your wallet back in your purse, gulping loudly. You were glad he couldn't see the way your blush had spread to your chest, and the way your hands were shaking noticeably.
He had just completely called you out on your (apparently) pathetic stalker-like tendencies and you were absolutely reeling.
Matt's smile widened even further, as if he knew some secret you didn't. "So, are you gonna let me buy you a cup of coffee?"
"I...yeah, if you're sure." You turned back to Natalie and placed your normal order, before swinging back to him. "Thank you, truly."
He waved it away. "No issue at all."
Unsure of what to do next (Should you continue the conversation? Should you move to Antarctica in hopes he'd forget how awkward you are?), you moved out of the way so that he could order. You waited over to the side as Brittany made your drink, an amused glance thrown your way. She wiggled her eyebrows at you, mouthing a sly "make your move" before she turned around to grab something on the shelf behind her. You glared at her back, heart still hammering in your chest.
Christ, you really were that obvious, weren't you?
A white cane clicked on the ground to your right and you looked away from the barista, noticing that Matt had come to stand next to you. He was without his suit jacket today, and you couldn't help but...want. The sleeves on his button-up were rolled up to his elbows, and you eyed his toned forearms in appreciation.
Even while your head was spinning, you felt the warmth of desire spread down your spine. The man inhaled sharply, but shook his head slightly before opening his mouth to speak.
"So," he began, head tilted in your direction. His cheeks were a little flushed now, too, and you watched as his lips curved into a smile. You briefly wondered what else those lips could do. "Do I get go know the name of the girl who is always checking me out?"
Whatever you had been expecting to come out of his mouth, it certainly wasn’t that.
"W-what?" You sputtered. Eyes widening, cheeks flushing, you stared at him in alarm, all lustful images abruptly exiting your brain. You were glad you weren't drinking your coffee already, or else it would be all over the floor as you choked. "What are you talking about? I don't...I haven't...why would you think I'm always checking you out?"
"It's just a feeling that I have."
"I don't think you're talking to the right person," you objected weakly as you shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. His grin sharpened.
"Oh, I'm positive I am."
You heard Brittany snort, and your eyes snapped to her. She refused to look at you, but you could see the way she was snickering and shaking her head.
Your eyes narrowed even as your panic flared up again.
"Brittany told you."
"Brittany told me," he confirmed, shoulders shaking as he downright giggled.
"God damn it, what a traitor," you swore. Brittany was still laughing, and you had to resist throwing your phone at her. "Why is this happening?"
"She said something about a pretty girl always staring at me, but who was too shy to say anything," he smirked, and even while your horror continued to flare up underneath your skin, you felt a twinge of relief, grateful he couldn't see the grimace on your heated face. "I thought maybe I should buy you a cup of coffee sometime, to at least put you out of your misery."
"How kind of you," you said dryly. You internally begged Brittany to make your latte faster before you died of embarrassment right there in the coffee shop.
He carried on as if you hadn't said anything. "But it turns out that I like listening to the sound of your voice anyway, and I think maybe I'd like to hear it more often."
"Oh God, you totally say that to all the girls, don't you?"
"I plead the fifth," he responded easily, but he didn't deny it. You squinted your eyes at him.
"So that's a yes, then."
"Doesn't mean I'm not being honest," he told you teasingly. His body was turned completely towards yours now, no longer just at your side. You couldn't help but shiver under his complete focus, feeling like he was observing you with an intensity you hadn't felt before as he lay the full weight of his charm at your feet.
"You sure are a smooth talker," you accused him. You were still blushing ridiculously, to Brittany's utter delight. You were never going to hear the end of this.
"So I've been told." Matt continued to grin. "So, dinner?"
Your eyes bugged out of your head as you gaped at him.
"D-dinner? You literally just asked what my name is like 30 seconds ago." You cleared your throat audibly, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably. "Moving a little fast, don't you think?"
He laughed. "I already know your name actually, I was just trying to be polite about it and not come across as weird."
"You're not doing a very good job." You hated the way your voice shook, mentally berating yourself for how socially inept you were. The man couldn't see, but you were 100% sure he knew the effect he was having on you.
"As if you don't already know my name," he scoffed in a good natured fashion.
You objected immediately. "That's not the point! You're the one using all the pick-up lines on me, here."
God, how embarrassing.
"I get the feeling you're enjoying it though," he shrugged as your jaw dropped even lower in indignation. For all of your apparent protests, you knew that he was right, and it wasn't fair that he knew it, too. "Italian? Seafood? I also have a few amazing pizza places up my sleeve."
"At this point I'll be shocked if you don't have my phone number already since you apparently know all my secrets."
"Now that's just pushing it," he said, no doubt aware of the irony. "I want to respect boundaries, of course." His sly grin told you he was only half joking.
"Of course," you muttered, bemused. The man shook his head and took a small step closer to you. You fought against your impulse to take a step back. Being in the same coffee shop as him was one thing, but him being within arm's reach was another, and you were having a difficult time adjusting. Vaguely, you wondered if he could feel the heat of near humiliation radiating off of you.
"But seriously," Matt said when you went quiet for a moment, toning down the flirtatious smile on his lips, though it didn't disappear entirely. You found yourself staring at the ridiculously adorable dimple on his cheek, almost hating how he had you completely under his thumb without realizing it. "I'd love to take you to dinner, if you're interested. Or drinks, if that works better. No pressure if not."
"Do you ask out every girl that you find out has a crush on you?" You had no idea how you'd ended up here, the man you had been ogling for months suddenly giving you his undivided attention. If you'd been asked how you imagined your day going, this would not ever be on your list of possible scenarios.
You'd have ranked a second alien invasion of New York City higher on the list of possibilities before ever imaging something like this would happen, despite being in the general vicinity as him every Tuesday.
"No," he shook his head, his cocky grin back on his face, "just the ones who alter their schedule just to catch a glimpse of me. Who am I to deny you a chance to see me in a different setting?"
"Oh my god," you moaned in horror, hands reaching up to cover your face. "This can't be happening."
"It's cute." He continued to smile brightly. You watched him grab your drinks from the barista through your fingers. He handed you yours.
"It's embarrassing," you grumbled.
"Let's agree to disagree," he remarked cheerfully.
You were silent, willing the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Matt observed your silence, tongue peaking out to lick his lips, as if suddenly nervous. If you hadn't been so flustered, you would have found it endearing, but as it was, you were completely overwhelmed.
Matt had caught on to that, it seemed.
"Tell you what," he said suddenly. "I've put you on the spot, I know. If all you want this to be is a stranger buying you a cup of coffee, no hard feelings. But if you'd like to go out sometime, have Brittany give you my number. We can go from there." He gave you one last warm smile before taking a long sip of his coffee, and turned and left. You didn't say goodbye, too distracted by the way his mouth had curled around the lip of the coffee cup.
What the f-
Still in a haze, you stood there in the coffee shop, mouth slightly open, unsure of what the hell had just happened. Brittany called out your name suddenly and you jumped, forcing yourself to snap back to the present. Waggling her eyebrows, she waved a slip of paper, a series of digits written on it in black ink, forming what you knew would be his phone number.
"I hate you," you said halfheartedly, willing the flames in your cheeks to settle down. You knew you looked like a lobster with how bright your face was burning.
"No, you don't," she denied in a sing-song voice. "I just gave you the man of your dreams. I'll accept a bottle of my favorite wine as my thank you gift, and an amazing basket full of artisan cheeses and crackers."
You opened your mouth to argue, but you caught sight of the gentle encouragement in her eyes, buried beneath her smug grin. Your objection to the whole situation slowed to a stop as you considered it for a moment. Shoot your shot, her words echoed in your head.
Fuck it.
You took a deep breath, straightened your spine, and ignored the voice in the back of your head that was telling you to run. With a wave of newfound determination, you strode forward, taking the paper from its position between her fingers, and ignored the exaggerated wink she threw your way.
"Get it girl," you heard her call out to as you left the coffee shop. "Don't forget to name your first born after me!"
To your credit, you made it all the way to your office before dialing the number, heart pounding in your throat. And if you'd made it back there faster than usual, knocking into at least two old women in your haste, you didn't acknowledge it.
The phone rang only twice before he picked it up, but each second felt like a lifetime as you nervously bit at the hang nail on your thumb.
"This is Murdock."
God, his voice still managed to hit you like a brick over the phone. How would you ever recover from this man? You were in trouble already, and had been from that first Tuesday all those months ago.
Words were monetarily caught in your throat, unable to get out, but you pushed past the nerves that had seized your body and been put into hyperdrive since he had offered to buy your latte.
"Hey, it's me...uh, the girl always awkwardly staring at you in the coffee shop that you apparently knew about the whole time," you rambled. You heard a brief huff of laughter from the other end. "So...dinner?"
A beat of silence, but when he finally answered, you could practically feel his smirk of satisfaction.
"I'd love to."
----
5 months later
"So, wait...you're telling me that you always knew when I was in the coffee shop, or if I had already left?"
"Yes."
"Because of your super duper sense of smell?"
"This answer is also yes."
"And you could hear my voice from blocks away?"
"Still yes."
"So you could always hear the way I professed my undying love for you and your chest."
"Yes, and those were absolutely my favorite conversations to listen in on."
"You have absolutely no shame."
"None at all."
"God, this is embarrassing. All those times I thought I was getting away with stealthily admiring you from afar."
"In case you're wondering, I could also hear your heart rate spike whenever you looked my way, or smell how aroused you were when you-"
"Shut UP."
We all know Matt Murdock is a smooth, charming son of a bitch when he wants to be
-
#daredevil#human disaster matt murdock#marvel#i love him your honor#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x AFABReader#x reader#matt murdock x you#fanfiction#matt murdock's charm#meet cute
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skybound Thoughts
sooo uh, im thinking about doing a rewrite of ninjago skybound.
im currently rewatching it because of this, and in case i never get around to actually writing anything, im gonna word-vomit onto this hellsite (affectionate) cuz im having Thoughts.
quick tangent though, skybound seems very similar to danny phantom (at least in how the fandom treats it) in the sense that, when you actually watch it, it's pretty tame and honestly kinda shit. but then you dig deeper. and you see the Implications and Possibilities, and suddenly it has you by the throat with all the ways this could have gone if it wasn't a kids show.
like, in skybound you get genuine torture and creepy implications on nadakhan's part (seriously, get away from jay and nya you fucking creep), and while it's never really explored since, y'know, kids show, it makes nadakhan one of the best and most terrifying villains i personally have watched in ninjago.
anyway, here are a couple of things i've been toying with in terms of a possible rewrite:
one thing im thinking about taking from various other fics i've seen (i think its mainly shown in bending but never breaking, which is an absolutely amazing fic and you should go read it but MIND THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS PLEASE) is jay learning to use the electricity in his body, though obviously not painlessly
bonus points for his elemental power getting royally fucked up once/if the vengestone is removed, but in the sense of suddenly he is completely overwhelmed and his power is so much stronger and its a danger to both himself and others
queerplatonic jaya: i think in this season especially, nya felt very aroace coded (i might just be projecting as i myself am aroace, but that's the vibe i got) and so for a skybound rewrite nya and jay would have a serious conversation about how nya doesn't feel that way for anyone, even if she *does* really like jay
just general angst and torture
id rewrite jays obsession with nya, specifically his first wish (if i dont just jump right into him being on misfortunes keep)
i think id like to do something more with delara than just her being some dead girlfriend. i.e.: i'd make her fucking unhinged and the kind of person that would fall in love with and support nadakhan.
i really liked @cotidianoseeder's idea for canary!jay, so possibly something in that direction
i also really like it when people keep serpentine aspects in jays character, so some of that as well
fuck it, make him inhuman, y'know?
i'd age everyone up i think (i dunno how old they are in skybound, but a 17 minimum would be in my rewrite)
OH! i'd put bruiseshipping as a romantic relationship cuz i love them
nya would make the final wish, since a big part of her character would be forging her own story and taking control of her own life
zanes falcon would survive cuz i love that fucking bird
echo would be taken off the island post-rewind
what do y'all think??? i keep having more ideas, i might post them
#ninjago#skybound#skybound ninjago#ninjago season 6#ninjago s6#jay walker#nya smith#ninjago nadakhan#ninjago rewrite#ninjago rewatch
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PLeaLSE gage headcanons LITERALLY ANYTHING fluffy I BEG
*cracks knuckles*
Separated into normal, shippy, and miserable. Everything nasty is below the big red banner.
Will whistle at songbirds when he sees them, if its safe to do so/won't attract anything. Knows a lot of different calls/songs. One of the few times a random person will see him genuinely smile, is when he gets a back-and-forth with the little things.
Have said before, but enjoys whittling. Crotchety asshole, but he did it to make toys for his younger siblings (of which he had a lot) and friends. If a kid wanders up while he's doing it, curious, will offer to teach them how and gives them whatever it becomes. He doesn't need it, it's just wood. But it seems a waste to just chuck all that work in a bush or whatever.
Knows how to be helpful in a kitchen/campfire/general cooking affairs. Also said this before, was a mama's boy, and always helped her around the house. Very good knifework. Has a habit of going 'behind' whenever he's...well, behind someone while cooking. Their kitchen was small and god forbid you bump into Ma and she spills something.
Knows a lot about creepy-crawlies. Dislikes your standard wasteland bugs, but spiders, bees, ants, stick bugs, etc, from the Old World? Like snakes, very into them. Would be the type to approach arachnaphobes with his hands closed, telling them to guess what he had. It would be nothing. But you wouldn't know that from his grin.
Related, good with animals. He was raised on a farm, after all. Likes most of them. Out of all of the other companions, Dogmeat is the one he likes the most.
Also have said before, but will keep an eye on a buddy/associate/whatever if they're drunk. Like, Gage won't let you walk off with a stranger while you're pissed. And he certainly won't let a stranger walk off with you, if you catch my drift. He hates alcohol and alcohol drinkers, but fuck, he doesn't want that kind of shit happening. It's a remenent of being the eldest child, gotta look out for everyone even if they're pissing you off.
shippy stuff
Extremely physical, but reserved. Won't initiate anything, not even to hold hands. Rarely acts like he needs/enjoys it. It takes time for Gage to be open like that, visibly affectionate. Once he is, though, clingy. Cuddle-every-night kind of guy, doesn't understand why you'd sleep in the same bed if not touching.
Cat-like. Will kinda...nuzzle, bump their foreheads together, lean his head on theirs, etc. If this is brought up he will stop doing it forever.
Will fall asleep if given a massage. Gage would let someone touch him like that only if he trusts them more than himself. Its not a much bigger leap for him to fall asleep with his back to them.
Preferred sleeping position is laying on his partner in some capacity, either on their shoulder, chest, stomach...again, cat-like. Not often he initiates affection, but once he does, personal space is a foreign concept.
Hug-from-behinder
All of these have something to do with sleeping, you might notice. Gage does not let people see him sleep, know where he does it. The ultimate sign of trust from Gage is being unconscious around them. And if he wakes up unharmed, unfucked with? It would take a fucking lot for that person to lose his loyalty and love. They're basically married now.
Seriously, Gage doesn't do 'downtime'. He can't relax like that. It's his partner's presence that helps him feel safe enough to rest for the sake of resting. Doing nothing is more meaningful to Gage than doing anything. Gage is always going, or planning his 'going'. Getting him to stop is a triumph.
Will share food with them. Have half of this fruit, eat the rest of this stew, finish these eggs for him. Won't even realize he's doing it. Gage is kind of a control freak, always wants to make sure everything is running well, taken care of.
His partner helping him shave his hair. Just consider that. Consider them with their hand on his jaw, tilting his head. His stubble scratches their fingers. Their hand is so close to his throat, they could feel his slow pulse with one little movement. In their other palm is a razor. They stand behind him, diligently scraping. His eye is closed, his own hands idle in his lap. Maybe someone talks, maybe they don't. The bathroom is small and the door is closed, and Porter Gage gives them sharp metal and bares his throat.
^ this is the lewdest, vilest, indecent, most embarrassing thing I've ever written, and I once wrote a fic where character A was described as using character B's prostate as a "character V deserves better" button.
❗trigger warnings start here❗
S/A victim and will not recognize, acknowledge, process, or accept it
Part of the thing with Conner...Gage says how Conner made him feel, how closely they worked together. Even if you get that story out of him, he's not going to mention just how close they would get.
Same thing happened with Colter. Gage always wants to be close to the boss, the guy making the choices. He thinks its of his own volition with Colter—but either way, Conner and Colter got theirs. Regardless how Gage felt about it.
Had something of a drinking problem when he was younger. Did it mostly to feel mature, adult. This stopped when he joined his second raider gang, after the Conner incident.
Every so often, has an episode of some kind. Angry, manic, depressed, paranoid—its very rare but Gage gets into these spells that last about a month. They usually involve him looking over his shoulder, so to speak, looking at the path he took to get where he is. Looking at the shadow he has and the demons in it. Thats largely why Gage is a workaholic, always going. If he stops, he might glance at all of the shit he's been through, and he loses his mind for a while. No one knows, it's wholly private. Gets through his day normally. Its all in his head, no external expression. Nothing in his face, his tone, movement, behavior...you couldn't never see it. You'd only know if he told you. God knows he wouldn't.
Another thing he won't acknowledge—misses his family. Absolute fucking liar, he was really close to them before bailing out of the blue one night. He didn't think about it until he almost died to Conner, and had that one moment where he seriously regretted leaving, and wanted to go home. He rarely ever thinks about his family, and even more rare does he recognize the empty hole in his chest as homesickness. When he does, has one of those episodes.
These episodes end with Gage hardening even further. He shaves off a little more of his humanity each time, whatever he considers a weakness. Its just like whittling.
His emotional walls are a two-way street—it keeps everyone else out to protect himself, but it also cages him. Build up enough walls, you have a labyrinth. You'll lose your way around eventually. If not found by a Sole, or anyone else who befriends and gets close to him, Gage would end in a bad fucking place. Whether dead or alive, he would barely be a person. Just a husk with no rhyme or reason to what it did, running purely on autopilot. He's a raider, so he raids things. No thought of survival or anything like that anymore. Mechanically going through each day until he eventually died. He's about 3/4s of the way through this internal withering at the time of the Nuka World DLC.
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Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 42
It's 1967! Doctor Who has started on the telly, look.
But! We are jumping in with our... second? third? episode of the Flux, so Whittaker, Yaz and Dan are trying to deal with a universe that just got munched while dog people save Earth and Division are being shadowy paymasters. Last time we saw this, we saw the Doctor be delivered by weeping angels and then met her breathtakingly well-acted adopted Mam, and it turned out she runs Division and also was the one who actually triggered the Flux ready to move to another universe, while Yaz and Dan ran around in the 1910s with a fabulous professor called Eustacius Jericho.
This episode, we meet Jericho seemingly for the first time with an angel-possessed psychic called Claire, in a 1967 village. What an odd choice. Almost as though we are watching this in a very stupid order.
I FUCKING LOVE THIS EPISODE THOUGH
It's an angel episode!!! And a good one!!! The last one we saw was the Angels Take Manhattan, which is contemptible shite that makes zero sense. But this one! It's fucking fantastic. It's proper creepy horror from start to finish - in spite of being in the middle of a six-part story, there's little arc plot beyond a very small handful of scenes. Otherwise, after an unexplained start where a weeping angel is somehow in the TARDIS and hijacking it, we are treated to the tale of a village called St Hilary in Cowbridge Medderton in Devon the night its inhabitants all mysteriously vanish without trace, leaving it to be taken over by the military as a locked camp in the future. One woman in the village knows it's coming, and is desperately trying to warn people, but no one is listening; but, it emerges that this also happened to the village in 1901.
Why? Because angels send the inhabitants back to 1901.
And then back in 1901, do the same thing there, too; and anyone who is sent back more than once dies.
WHICH IS INTERESTING GIVEN THAT THEY SUPPOSEDLY COULD SET UP A "BATTERY FARM" IN MANHATTAN AND SEND PEOPLE BACK REPEATEDLY NO I WILL NEVER BE OVER THE LORE BREAKING OF THAT EPISODE-
Anyway, this one's great. Tonnes of tense, creepy horror, and trying to run away while yelling "DON'T BLINK", although they could all do with working on their teamwork in this field, to be honest. Like, if there are two of you, maybe one of you do the angel observing and not blinking and the other do the looking where you're both fucking going and guiding? Maybe? Maybe that's a good idea? Maybe trade off who's doing which job? Maybe don't all try staring and walking backwards at the same time, thus stumbling into each other/more angels? Really atmospheric, though, proper tense. Also, new lore introduced! Whatever holds the image of an angel can itself become an angel, with a lot of energy on their part. This makes The Angels Take Manhattan even more deeply stupid, since the Statue of Liberty is possibly the most photographed statue in the world, but okay.
Anyway. Claire the psychic is from the present day, but is possessed by a fugitive angel that's on the run from Division. The others are trying to capture it. She gets sent to 1967 by one, but the one possessing her is hiding inside her. Yaz and Dan get whipped back to 1901 while looking for a lost 10 year old called Peggy, who it emerges has been angelled, and also becomes the old woman who knew this was coming in 1967. The whole village, it seems, has been "quantum extracted" - pulled out of space/time to extract the fugitive. While fleeing, Jericho gets angelled and lands with Yaz and Dan, which explains why he was running around the 1910s with them before.
But, the angels take the Doctor instead of the rogue one. We know that bit! We saw that last time.
Meanwhile, some minor arc - Vinder the beautiful man is still searching for Bel. Bel, though, finds her way to a planet that supposedly offers 'salvation', a woman who arrives to take survivors away to a safe haven from the Flux. Turns out it's the beautiful geode lady though. She takes the survivors into Passenger, which is an endless prison. Bel saves an ungrateful man from this, and then swans off into the universe to stop it, so well done her.
LET'S TALK ABOUT JERICHO THOUGH I love him. I love him very much. Kevin McNally plays a fucking blinder with him. Oddly, watching the show in this order really made us feel the horror and impact of the First World War, but not so much WW2 - I think the forays into it were mostly either played for laughs (punching Hitler) or jingoistic tedium about sucking off Churchill, with no real sense of the impact at all. But Jericho has a great little monologue at one point, after the Doctor admires how his scientist mind wants to understand things, and so doesn't stop to be scared. "I was one of the first British soldiers into Belsen after the War," he says. "If you think a few stone statues will destroy my equilibrium, you are mistaken." He also has a spectacular moment where multiple angels suddenly break into the room, and he squares the fuck up to them with all the gravitas and power and titanium-spined energy of David before Goliath and commands them "You stop right there. You are observed, and that is my power over you."
God fucking damn it. Incredible. What a character, what an actor, what lines. Ugh. Perfect.
Anyway, plot threads! Let's see. I mean we have LOTS of planets that have disappeared. Maybe that's the Flux? That seems logical; when Bel reaches the ungrateful man, he tells her that the planet they're on is the last, most intact one in the sector ("A third of a sun, quarter of a moon, half a planet"). Um, the TARDIS is sort of broken/not working again, but then we start the episode with an angel piloting it somehow, so... is that why? And, why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?
Fortunately, we don't need to add any plot threads about Division, because that's already been resolved. This watch order is stupid.
“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)
There is something on Donna’s back
An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest. The Thijarian planet was destroyed by some sort of impact). NEW INFO: is this the Flux?
Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)
The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)
River is possibly blown up (unless she’s Missy. Nope: she is definitely not blown up)
The TARDIS has blown up (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again. NEW INFO: NOPE, back to not working.)
The universe appears to have ended (the universe is back again)
The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole
(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)
There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)
There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons
Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?
What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?
Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window? (She’s with the Silents, but we don’t know why Amy saw her)
Why is Amy’s pregnancy inconclusive? (Maybe because the baby had Time Lord DNA?)
Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?
How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?
What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???
What happened with the Other Cyber War?
What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?
Why does Rose seem particularly important?
What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)
Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?
Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri (NEW INFO: not anymore, somehow)
There is a Lupari shield around Earth.
What’s a Time War?
What’s the Rift?
What’s Bad Wolf?
In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?
Who is the Master?
Why has Amy forgotten Rory? How did she forget a Dalek invasion?
Is Rory plastic or not?
Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?
How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?
What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?
Which friend killed Strax?
Which friend brought Strax back?
Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?
What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?
How does Clara actually join?
Why so many Claras?
Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?
Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?
What is Trensilor and what happened there?
Who is Handles?
The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man
The universe is being crushed by the Flux
Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?
Sontarans are invading Earth again
Who is Kate?
Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?
The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent
Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?
How did the Doctor forget Clara?
Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather?
How did Nardole die?
When does Bill get Cyberman-ed and die?
When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?
Whittaker is falling to her death rn
Was that ring relevant?
Does anyone know the Doctor’s name?
When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?
When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?
What’s happening with the bees?
What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?
What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?
What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”
If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?
How did the rest of the Time Lords die?
How and why did Amy melt?
What’s the question that will make silence fall?
Why do the Silents… want silence to fall?
How and why are Silents at war with the Doctor when he… hasn’t even heard of them?
How does Hitler get out of the cupboard?
What’s the significance of fish fingers and custard?
Why does the Doctor feel guilt about Rose, Martha and Donna?
What happened with the space whale?
When does Rory defend Amy for 2000 years?
How does the Doctor survive River
How does he erase himself from history
Did Captain Jack lose his memories to the same people as the Doctor? What did he lose?
When did the Doctor send the Daleks into a void to save the universe?
What’s with the weird crack in the wall and is it affecting memories?
Why do Amy and Rory think the Doctor is dead?
Is Matt Smith’s Doctor a tree racist?
Why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?
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to that anon about hs fanart. I mean, if you're scared, I recommend keeping your inbox closed, it's a shame because there are some really nice people left that just want to share their ideas with you but it's better on the long run. People on tumblr will preach about mental health and all that shit but its just for show, they will vaguepost about you and send you creepy shit (I got sent animal gore, death threats, got my account terminated, etc) if they don't like you, very clique mentality. Example: Just look up how some virtue signal about Damara's design being ugly/racist/etc, to then proceed to insult Hone and her art, calling it 'anime shit' when she herself is japanese and she drew Damara for requiem.
It all depends on which characters you draw and ship, if you've bad luck like me and you like some rareships or the fandoms kins or disagree with the current popular fandom take you will attract the weirdos. With that I mean they will make comments like "Would [x] character approve of what you're doing?", saying they selfship with the character and that you cant draw them with this other character, says they're part of their system and you're triggering them or roleplay fetish shit in your askbox using your art as an icon.
Of course this is just the worst examples and I had the worst luck ever, so just try to keep yourself safe and don't let anyone guilt trip you of anything okay? It's not worth it and they are honestly assholes.
Also, might sound crazy, preferably stay away from the dancestor fans here. They are really fucking weird about Mituna of all fucking characters, and try to gatekeep him for themselves. Oh and some people will repost your art to other sites, but that's not really specific of this fandom.
I recommend ao3 for some peace of mind.
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w7 robin is creepy. most creepy thing about her is how she refuses to react to any of it. like the most creepy reveal ive ever seen in anything is that robin doesnt even need to be put in seastone handcuffs to listen to the government. shes either completely nonreacting in a way that makes you feel intensely uncomfortable or reacting like she's seen a monster right in front of her that you cant see but shes convinced is there.
when i call robin creepy in water 7 im doing it with the knowledge shes coming off as creepy because she has personality disorders and ptsd, and shes in a triggering situation for her that is partially her fault and partially the governments, (like i genuinely think w7 is the best possible representation of being triggered ive ever seen, i really do fucking intensely relate to robin.)
i think the reason i feel so comfortable in calling her creepy on this blog despite the fact i have never been comfortable doing so in reference to any other character with that level of trauma is that the reason she's creepy in water 7 is not from a point of alienation?
i always used to think "having a mentally ill person be bad means they get nagito komaedaed" and what i meant by that is they get alienated from the narrative. its a thought i had specifically after seeing persona 5s akechi play out (that game should on paper be way more sympathetic and not alienating towards akechi than it is) and it was the best representation ive seen of someone being bad and mentally ill that i had seen up until that point, but he still gets nagito komaedaed.
as in, i feel he gets alienated from the audiences perspective and you are supposed to view him as a horror monster rather than a character. akechi is kind of like progressive nagito komaeda.
so when i call robin creepy, i mean that in the sense i don't think her perspective gets alienated from the audience. (in the nagito komaeda way) i think you're supposed to always view her as a friend and someone close to you. which i think is where the good horror comes from in regards to how she acts in water 7. you fundamentally couldn't have the horror of her situation impact you as much as it does in w7, without the understanding extended to her.
the story water 7 is about a lot of things, but most of them can be captured in "when mentally ill people do bad things because they're mentally ill" and i struggle really bad when i'm perceived as creepy or monstrous because of how i act in regards to my mental illness, being able to conceptualize someone seeing me as creepy even when they love me and are close to me or even because of it helps with that a lot. and there's naunce to it too, because in canon robin also has people perceiving her as a literal demon child and that from other people is coming from a horrible place.
this also leads me into how great of a title "demon child" is for her, because she allows herself to be defined by that trauma for the majority of her life and the title reflects that. both how she lets other people define her by it and herself.
#modposts#its another “one piece fixed me” post#meta#nico robin#water 7#enies lobby#sometimes the solution is “yeah youre that negative thing and thats okay”#instead of denying that you embody that at all#thats another theme of w7/enies lobby
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Ok so im a little uncomfortable so check the tags and buckle up because im gonna open my mouth
WHY THE FUCK DOES DARIUS HONG HAVE TO EXIST.
NO, CAUSE WHY. HE SERVES NO PURPOSE OTHER THAN BEING FUCKING CREEPY! ANY ROLE HE HAS PLAYED/IS PLAYING RN COULD HAVE BEEN DONE BY SOMEBODY ELSE.
NONE. OF THE CREEPY SHIT DARIUS HAS DONE WAS NEEDED. NONE OF IT. IT SERVES NO PURPOSE. IT DOESN'T SEEM TO HAVE ANY LASTING IMPACT ON ANYONE HE'S IN CONTACT WITH, WHICH THANK GOD BUT WHY IN THE FIRST PLACE IF IT DOESNT D O ANYTHING!
WHAT DO I MEAN BY CREEPY SHIT? LEGITIMATE SEXUAL ASSAULT ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS. LITERAL R4PE. IT'S DISGUSTING! UNCOMFORTABLE! POTENTIALLY VERY, VERY TRIGGERING! AND I H A R D L Y SEE A WARNING.
"Ohh ohh we needed a reason to get him in jail so that jiho could have his badass moment with a yellow-tag guy and rise to the top and then the interview with daniel so it could pl-" YOU COULD HAVE JUST DONE SOMETHING ELSE. HAVE JIHO KICK SOME OTHER GUYS ASS. YOU COULD HAVE PICKED SOMEBODY ELSE.
"Buh but evra evra this stuff does happen its important to shed light on-" NAH YOU COULD HAVE DONE THAT WAY DIFFERENTLY, BUT YOU DIDN'T.
AND HE'S THE GAY REPRESENTATION IN LOOKISM. you could argue Jay is The Gay too and they're just not saying anything and I'd be like "yeah! That sounds right! If he was a woman he'd be a main love interest! My king fr!" but HE'S NOT BEING SHOWN THAT WAY. MY HEADCANON IS NOT CANON. AND MOST LIKELY, WON'T BE. IT IS DOWNRIGHT PROBLEMATIC HOW HE'S THE MOST OBVIOUSLY SHOWN GAY REP IN LOOKISM. "evraaaa not all gay people are good people!" YEAH BUT HE'S PRETTY MUCH THE ONLY ONE WE'RE SEEING ON LEVEL ONE HERE. THE ONE. AND HE'S A CONVICTED R4PIST. THAT'S HIM, THAT'S THE GUY.
I'M UPSET! I'M UPSET BECAUSE THIS MF HAS BEEN DOING RING AROUND THE ROSIE WITH MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS THESE DAYS! IT BOTHERS ME! I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW MUCH FUCKING WORSE IT IS FOR ACTUAL VICTIMS OF SA!
I COULD BE WRONG! I COULD BE! I COULD HAVE MISSED SOMETHING, I ADMIT IT! I COULD HAVE NOT READ THAT CLOSE IN THE WARNINGS AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EPISODE BECAUSE SHIT DOESN'T REALLY TRIGGER ME. BUT GODDAMN THIS MOTHER FUCKER HE IS INFURIATING.
I HATE HIM. SO MUCH SO MUCH SO MUCH.
If i got some info wrong please let me know :) keep yourself safe out there
Drink your water, shoplift, eat filling food, brush your teeth, punch a racist, brush your hair and shower! Self care isn't always something you want to do <3333
#lookism#TW SA#TW DARIUS HONG#lookism webtoon#darius hong x burning in hell#darius hong x getting erased from reality#TW SA MENTION
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jaehee best route presentation
this is just me jokingly dunking on mysme's other routes and pointing out the weird and wacky shit that happened
in comparison to jaehee's significantly more tame route (because i love her route. we stan jaehee in this household.)
meant to make a presentation cause a bunch of friends were getting together to make some dumb af presentations but im procrastinating
anyway ive never played deep story or another story mode. and the only routes ive actually played are jaehee's and yoosung's. i cant be bothered to do anyone else's (the notifs get so annoying. im the type of person who sometimes spends whole days in a row desiring me time and being all alone. so guess what when you give me a game thats basically like a messenger in which you have to actually interact by then? its like. actually socializing! which no. it hit my social limit and i just stopped trying after multiple bad endings trying to actually get to zens lol)
since im not gonna be showing off my presentation (because ah.. socialization.. and two, now im kind of scared i might trigger someone..?)
so. here.
MAJOR MYSTIC MESSENGER SPOILERS
its a gif..
[ Content warning: Swears, possibly triggering content, uh. Mention of bombs, death (faked su//cide), possible implied in//est thoughts (he doesn’t harbor those thoughts I don’t think, but it can still be the impression he gives off), ..mention of s*x maybe?, kidnapping, held captive, weird shit that’s meant to be kinky but actually comes off as really creepy, INACCURATE PORTRAYAL OF PEOPLE WITH MENTAL ILLNESSES, cringe, false reporting / negative media, captivity, yandere ending sob??, and ill add more if i can think of more - and torture. I wont go indepth but ill mention it. …beastiality? Just remembered headbang. I dont think its said but ppl kinda see the implications of it i think. ..ive never played his route so i have no clue | is cucking a trigger??? I dont..>>>????? / sexual implications probably | mentions of S/A. It doesnt happen but a character falsely accuses another to ruin their reputation, toxic relationships ]
thats it lmfao
what i was going to continue with:
jumin. so. you know that bad ending where you're basically kept in his house and he puts trackers in your shoes so you can only walk as far as like the kitchen away from him and doing so alerts him and shit?? and its played off as being some kinky shit i think but like hello? (also i think. it was either him or saeran, but we fuck in the basement he has trauma in??)
(i mean theres also the thing with his cat. the 'i'll treat you like my pet' or something like that line?? i dont remember. or zen having a dream that elizabeth his cat was running away so he locked her up even worse so then when he opened the door she ran??)
707 is the most story-depth i think, the one ppl consider canon. in which. crazy shit probably happens there with the obligatory kidnapping and bomb threat. i honestly cant remember i didnt even go to his page to check .
altohugh i think theres an ending where saerans is like 'give me a hug'. 707 does. then saeran kills him. which. oof…. poor guy. or its revealed who their dad is and basically bad things happen i think?
saeran/ray/unknown. inaccurate depiction of mental disorders or something like that (not meant to offend with wording, but i can never remember the names of shit). it was like.. we first get to know ray whose the nicer one. and then there's saeran whose an absolute asshole. there was something like 'if you dont listen something bad will happen' (which is apparently something his mom said to him or something like that?) very sucky situation
V. cucking??? IDFK wtf
V's CELL?
DRUGGed. from. RAY's. TORTURE. okay. okay.
(someone explain to me whats going on in that ending where we're cucking, im so confused)
ah...
so. yknow. jaehee's route is significantly more tame. and relaxing. and stress relieving imo.
the end
#mysme#mysme jaehee#mystic messenger#jaehee mystic messenger#jaehee kang#thoughts#presentation#do not take this seriously#queued because there's no way im taking the time to finish the presentation
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i don't bite (well, maybe that's a lie)
[it rotted my brain so much that i couldnt resist. thank u @jben073 for helpin me w the ending, my writing still sucks but wtvr... look lets make it modern bc im not doing research on old shit. my brains small so i dont wanna make it smaller. @wispexists made this beautiful art, check it pls pls pls its so good
anwho here it is
OH TW FOR BLOOD BEFORE I FORGET (vampire.. duh) ]
People's blood is a very sacred thing. In many religions, it's often considered the life of a human. Yet, it's something vampires need for sustenance. Most consider vegan diets, and some just become full on killers when too unregulated.
Stephanie Lauter is unfortunately, a vampire. From what she overhears, her dad made some deal with eldritch gods, and that's why she's here. Solomon Lauter hates his daughter, but she hates him back too. However, to not expose this secret to the public, he helps get Steph's cravings in check by supplying her with animal blood.
Yet, it's never a filling meal. She hasn't had a proper, enriching, bit of human blood in such a long time. Not since middle school. But never in a million years did she expect to drink the blood of the pastor's daughter, Grace Chasity.
Nor did she expect how delicious the blood would be.
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Every other day, Steph spends her nights at the old Waylon Hall. Hearing all the rumors about the place, it doesn't seem so bad. It's just really fucking abandoned and creepy. Nonetheless, a few candles and fairy lights powered by battery packs make the house look a lot less evil.
This night, she decided to bring more and more of her belongings into the living room. Yeesh, it's a damn mess. She swept the floor with an old broom she found in a janitorial closet, suited most likely for a maid. The more Steph cleaned up the hall, the more she liked that it became kind of her own hideaway. A very eerie home away from home.
After a few hours of just generally cleaning and decorating the main room, she smiled. For once her life, Stephanie Lauter had made something she was proud of. How fun.
Suddenly, she heard an opening from the front door.
For the months she had spent going here, no one had dare even approach the Hall's grounds. So who the fuck seems brave enough to wander in the most "haunted" place in all of Hatchetfield?
Who the fuck..
Steph had hid in some big closet in the room, and took a look at the girl trespassing in her space. In which she was also trespassing in. The girl wore a light blue sweater and a white button up underneath. She wore a brown skirt, white socks and Black Mary Janes. She had rolled up the sleeves of both the button up and the sweater and had her hair in a side part.
Look, she was already in a silk dress meant for sleeping, and she did not want to be disturbed by some girl. However, something just... attracted her. Steph sniffed something good. Better than the "wagyu cow blood" her dad ended up getting to satisfy the urges. Shit, this came from the girl, didn't it?
God- it smelled so good. That feeling of hunger filled Steph's mind and triggered her vampiristic instincts. She need to feed, fast.
As the girl turned her back, Steph quietly came out of the closet she was hiding him. Walking towards the back of her, she saw that her neck was wide open. Thank god for people parting their hair sideways. As she was about to feed, she snapped back to reality, wobbling back and falling on the floor. Of course, the girl turned around, and looked right at Steph.
"Oh my- who are you? What are you doing out here so late?"
The girl put a hand out, and Steph took it. She quickly responded, "I suppose I could ask you the same question, but I don't think I'll get an answer. I'm Steph." "Grace. My father and I were seeing the house earlier, and I left my 'What Would Jesus Do?' bracelet here." Steph nodded as her eyes are remained on Grace's neck and forearms. They sure do look appealing.
Grace yawned, and ended up sitting on the floor. Steph had already placed some sort of old mattress on there, and simply covered with a bedsheet. "Man, I gotta bike back..." Steph looked at the girl while she complained, and smirked slightly. With an alluring look in her eyes, she turned Grace's head to look at her. "Ah, it's alright. Rest here for a bit, I won't bite."
Grace looked nervous at the offer. She had to go home, she wanted to go home. Yet, this girl... Steph, she just drew her in. Before she knew it, her mouth muttered the words yes, and the two kept on staring at each other. "Now Grace, I have to ask you a question. Do you know anything about vampires and the like?"
"...no? If it's some kind of like, band fans, then I have no idea about them."
Steph looked shocked at this admission, and tried to think through how she'll phrase this properly. In order to charm a human properly, you first need a good approach, don't you?
"Ok then. A vampire is.. a creature who preys on human blood. They usually hate the sunlight, garlic, and silver. Got it?" Grace nodded. "I do. How come you're telling me this?" "Will you believe me if I say that I am a vampire?"
Grace looked confused at the question. Was this girl playing some kind of cruel trick with her? But, like God commanded, answer truthfully. "Why would I? You sound kind of insane right now." Steph smirked, opening her mouth and baring her fangs. They're way too sharp and long to be just a regular humans, and she put her hair back behind her pointed, pierced ears. Grace looked a bit scared, she's never seen a person like this, but regardless, she wanted to know more.
Something keeps telling her she wants to know more.
"And look, Grace. I'm quite hungry right now. Would you mind if I.. just got a bit of your blood~?"
Steph asked, leaning closer towards Grace. The closer she got, the redder the other girl's face was. She then pushed her away slightly, hesitance in her voice. "I... I don't- will it hurt?" "Probably, Gracie. Do you want me to comfort your boo boo, then?" Grace blushed even more, unsure what this feeling is towards the mysterious girl and confused as to what's happening.
Look, Grace had some strong willpower. That's what you have when your dad's the town pastor, after all. However, when she offered her arm to Steph, who's presumably a "vampire," that might be the complete opposite fact. "Go- just take what you need..."
The vampire widened her eyes. From stories she's heard, people need a lot more convincing. But this pretty girl just offers up her arm and blood? Hey, at least it was easy to get a meal for Steph today.
She took Grace's arm gently, placing it near her mouth. Jesus, the smell of the blood really came out. Her mouth almost watered at simply the smell, but why sniff it instead of tasting it?
Steph's fang suck into the arm, Grace wincing slightly from the pain. As she sucked the blood, she couldn't believe the taste. She couldn't believe how energized she was. And she couldn't believe how insatiable the feeling was from getting this girl's blood was.
Grace watched as Steph sucked the blood out of her arm. It was a bit painful, but is it weird to say it somehow made her extremely tired and excited? She could see her blood dripping down her arm as Steph eagerly feasting on her. It's scary, but it's somehow so attractive at the same time. She could easily pull away- it's not even like she's forcing her too.
It's just that... the feeling in her stomach that she gets from simply seeing this girl means letting Steph doing whatever she wanted. After a few minutes of silence and blood sucking, Steph lifted her head from Grace's forearm, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.
As Grace slowly put her arm down, Steph looked at her, longingly and hungry for more. Steph quietly said, "Do you- do you feel ok? Are you too hurt?" The other girl nodded no, and Steph stood up, walking around the room. On top of the fireplace, she rummaged through a little box and found a roll of bandages. Tearing a long piece of it off with her teeth, Steph began to tightly wrap the fabric onto Grace's forearm.
The feeling of Steph wrapping her arm with the bandage, hell the feeling of the wound itself? It all felt numb. Grace Chasity couldn't feel anything ever since Stephanie Lauter sucked her blood. All she knows is that it felt so damn good.
Finally tying the bandage off, Steph leaned back from Grace, letting her sit up. "Alright, let's see.." Steph stared into her eyes, rolling down both the button up and sweater sleeves, covering both of her arms. She stood up, offering a hand out to Grace so that she can also stand up beside her, "Now, I'm sorry pretty girl, but you can't remember this.. for a while. However," Steph paused for a second, twirling a big strand of Grace's hair.
"I have a feeling we'll meet again, won't we? You're of course, drawn to me, but somehow I am too. Even without drinking your blood, something intrigues me about you, Grace. Come back here next time, won't you~?"
As she let go of the other girl's hair, Grace simply smiled and started walking out. Steph hated the charm ability vampires had as she saw the girl leave. Sure, it benefits both her and the person who she charmed because now whoever she targets will have no recollection of what she's done. Yet, something about Grace made her want to have her remember tonight. She wanted Grace to recognize her face and know who left that mark on her forearm. Oh well, what can a girl like her do?
Sighing and lying on the mattress, she closes her eyes. That was good, no, great blood. That's settled. Great blood comes from the prettiest people. Who knew?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Grace Chasity woke up the next day, in her bed and feeling somewhat extra tired. It was.. 2 in the afternoon? Huh. As she stood up and walked to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. She didn't change at all from when she came back home yesterday from school. Thank goodness it was a Saturday, or else she would've gotten in big trouble with her parents.
As she turned on the faucet, she rolled up her sleeves so that the water wouldn't soak the fabric. The more she rolled her sleeves up, the more she saw that on her right arm, bandages tightly covered her forearm. Well that's.. odd.
Stopping for a minute, she pondered over how she got the bandage on her wrist. Staring at the blood covered and hastily wrapped fabric, Grace shook it off and began to start washing her face.
Eh, she must've fell while riding her bike.
#grace chasity#npmd#starkid#stephanie lauter#hatchetfield#lautity#stephgrace#nerdy prudes must die#steph lauter#team starkid#lautity vampire au#sorry if it sucks
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fellas is it alright if i *punches my own chest* if i ''winks nd whistles* fuck *opens and closes my hand*
anyways headcanons (me projection) below :3
mostly related to his tics so if you get triggered easily by reading about it pls dont ! read ! this just me ranting and tryin to feel less alone lol
i think toby has tons of self harm tics...... as in hitting his chest or hitting his head, since he cant feel pain, its kinda like every tic he has, its nothing new, nothing special. but the sound it makes scares people,
idk if he would have coprolalia, but since this is projection time™, i would say he sometimessssss says bad stuff, like me :] he goes thru wax and wane periods of time, so the saying insults and shi isnt always there yk, i think he would be medicated for his tourettes...(he just like me fr) i dont really remember how his tics were, other than he had ts hehe, but to me hes kind of in the middle, not severe, yet not mild.
boy probably has 1 tic attack per month or smth.
the creepys are very supportive of him bruh they all have problems , so whats the matter with the boy who swears and hits himself?
its normal to them, theyre used to it.
his common tics would be whistling, cracking his bones (mostly the neck one), HE DEFINITELY GROWLS AND BARKS. or makes animals sounds
he doesnt really suppress around the creepys, at some point he stopped caring about whwat ppl think of him
thats all rlly i dont have brain for more
what r your hcs on the Boy..?
#OK I T WORKED#i spent like more than 15 mins tryin g to do a fucking GIF#i went to three. programs.#anyways shoutout to firealpaca#for being the most easiest to use#ticcy toby#tobias erin rogers#toby erin rogers#creepypasta#toby rogers#ticci toby#headcanon
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(Sorry for dragging this topic back but) I don’t think Taiyang is abusive. However, I’m personally annoyed with how flippantly the show treats Taiyang’s parenting because its so half assed [how they depict it], me thinks. Granted, I haven’t watched past Volume 3, so that might be coloring my perception and I don’t have all the details, but it would have been so much better showing the effects of Yang taking care of Ruby at a young age, and Ruby being taken care of by someone literally 2 years older than her, with Taiyang absent and Qrow presumably away a lot.
Firstly, the show is way too ambiguous with it. How does Ruby feel about it? How does Qrow? Hell, does Taiyang ever talk to Yang about that? Is there even some sort of “sorry I was kind of out of it in your formative years” “Hey, don’t worry about it, since you’re here now and I know you’re doing your best and I’m glad we’re talking about it now”???
What did Yang have to do to help? Did she have to make Ruby’s breakfast and/or her own? Did she have to take her to and from school? Help her get showered? Clean their room? Wash their clothes? Could this tie into Yang’s recklessness and supposed overprotectiveness? Was there a babysitter? How much does Qrow contribute to their household and in what way(s)? What would have let Taiyang leave a cabin of two kids in/near the woods in a world where creatures like Grimm exist (was someone supposed to be watching them, did Tai have an emergency, did he just up and fucking leave, how long was he gone, was Qrow there, etc)? I know some of these are uncharitable perspectives but we aren’t getting any details and this stuff happens far more often than people think.
It just hits too close to my own home situation, where my mom would literally be in the house and not help with chores or talk to us much, but just stay in her room on hours long calls with her neighbor while adultifying my older sister, because my mom was also an adultified first born girl and refuses to deal with that, and seeing the show just drop this plot point without explaining how we got from Taiyang being sad to Taiyang being Best Dad (TM) is actually triggering to me.
I think another reason why people don’t like Taiyang is the same reason why people don’t like Ozpin, and that’s because the show gives these nonsensically contradicting traits or moments or descriptions, and its so confusing that its easier to do the time-old RWBY fan manouver and just tweak each scene to how you originally percieved the character.
Is Ozpin a manipulative shadow leader or a tragic figure who just wanted to help the world? I dunno, the show’s too busy trying to get people mad about BIIIIIIRDS to actually deal with either the fact that Ozpin willingly sent a bunch of first years to a third year mission to stop terrorists who then cause The Breach, or the fact that Salem abused him.
Is Taiyang a parent genuinely trying his best or a neglectful jerk who can’t even see his kids at the Vytal Tournament? I dunno, I know literally nothing about this man except he shows up at the ass end of Volume 3 and start of Volume 4, and any meaningful description of what he might be as a parent is muddled by the fact that his kids love him but he invites Peter the creepy teacher and tricked Qrow into wearing a skirt because “MaN sKiRt FuNnY”. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about him, there’s really both too much and too little going on with him.
honestly agree, & this seems to be a consistent problem with a lot of peripheral characters like the parents where we're told one thing & shown another. the belladonnas are another excellent example of it where like, we're told they're amazing parents & they love blake more than anything but also didn't do anything when she ran away to a supposed terrorist organization, exposed her to violent protests as a child, told her it was her job to tame violent men around her as a woman, & allowed her to blame herself for all the trauma she's carried for years.
shown one thing, told another. should be rwby's motto really.
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