#I WAS GONNA DO IT EVENTUALLY AND HERE WE ARE

[hallow-weeb]

I, like many others was raised religious and often (comedically) wonder about the intersection of science and religion

What if all the times nearly every creature in existence was wiped from earths surface was God hard restarting earth. Like rebooting earth like in the Good Place. He was like

Ah, ok so that’s what happens when I do that. Ohhhh okay so that’s like not gonna work. Eh I just don’t like this one. And then we as humans living today in 2025 know so much, we know past versions of earth no human lived to see. And we worry about our eventual end. And religious people who ignore science believe our sin will end the world. And rather God or nature is who ends the existence we know, we KNOW it will end. Does it matter who ends it or why? What if God ends it not because of sin and greed but because like the many other iterations, this one is over. Our time here will become a small blip of earths story and the beings who evolve and are made to live here in 1 million years will dig up iPhones and Tupperware and they’ll wonder what such a strange time would have been like. Or they’ll be ferns again.

if i had a partner i would wake them up right now and i would say babe wake up im thinking about the plants that went extinct in the kt boundary comet blast again. babe the world has ended 1 million times and i want to grieve for every single one of them and its really messed up except for immediately after the kt extinction event when the ferns had so much sex they left an observable stripe of spore-dense matter fossilized in the rock forever, like that part was kinda funny. i think i have a stmoach ulcer again btw

[henry7931]

Head Swap Shorts

Borrowing My Son’s Body

Dan:

After I broke my leg, I wasn’t sure how I was going to make dinner for the family this year for big get together. Luckily, my son Sam had a great idea! Just borrow his body to get the job done.

So now I have Sam’s young body while he’s laying in my bed with mine on. The only thing that keeps throwing me off is how much I like having his body.

I feel weird to even think it but my son’s fit and it seems to get turned by the littlest of things. I really forgot what it’s like having a body this age I’ve had a boner all day long and I don’t really know what to do about it.

And now that I’m done cooking and the family shouldn’t be here for a couple more hours… I guess I can take care of it real quick?

So I went inside and went upstairs to check on Sam first. I carefully cracked the door to peak inside just in case he’s asleep— and to my surprise I see Sam literally jerking off and playing with my dick!!!

I almost said something but hey! I might as well do the same with his body.

So I headed to his room and stripped off all of his clothes. I looked down at my son’s perky junk and without any hesitation I started playing with it.

I start stroking his junk faster and faster. But in a matter of minutes, cum squirts out!

I clean off his body and walk to my room. This time I just walked right in.

Sam must of just finished up because he still had my dick out and was covered in my cum.

“Shit! Dad!!”

“Hey bud! Having fun in here?,” I say winking at him.

“Umm… yeah, sorry! This is isn’t what it looks like!”

“Listen son, it’s okay! I just finished up doing the same thing. Although, yours didn’t last that long. I wanted to see if we can stay like this until tomorrow.”

“Wow! Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I’m enjoying your body and it seems like you’re enjoying mine.”

I look down at my older dick and grinned at it.

Sam began to laugh and said, “yeah I like your body a lot. We can stay like this as long as you want dad.”

“Thanks son!”

Teddy

Christian:

Oh shit! I don’t know what to do. Here stands my uncle Cameron’s body withy freaking childhood teddy bear attached it. I was playing around with a couple of spells when he walked in and then this happened …

The weird part is his head isn’t communicating at all and yet it seems like the teddy bear is in control of his body.

I watched as the teddy bear feels up and down his new hairy arms down his new chest all the way to his legs thighs… he gets to my uncle’s junk and generally pats at it.

I watch as he tries to navigate his shorts he had on and gently peels them back. He put one of my uncle’s hands into his pants and begins peeing around.

“ hey can you hear me?” I asked the bear.

He stops for a second almost like he was looking up at me.

“So you can hear me,” I say to him.

He walks towards me and I feel a little nervous. I wasn’t sure what he was gonna do, but then he embraces me into a giant hug.

Not gonna lie it feels kinda good having my uncle’s big strong lawn wrapped around me. My uncle and I are very different. He’s a very stereotypical straight man, but one thing I would never actually admit is my attraction to his body.

I feel the teddy bear began to explore my body like he just did my uncles.

He gets to my bulge and begins to fondle out a bit. I taken my surroundings and realize it is just us in the room.

So I begin to fondle his junk as well.

We both eventually pull off our shorts. Standing close together, slowly, jerking each other off.

I begin to play with his nipples. I even put one in my mouth which is causes him to squirm a bit. I pull his body in for a tight hug. A rock hard dicks are rubbing up against each others. I squeeze his hairy ass.

He even does the same to me and then he does something that surprises me. I feel him insert one of my uncle’s fingers into my hole.

He does it so carefully, and if I didn’t know any better I think he’s done this before.

I say to him, “ let’s go to the room.”

I lead him to my uncle‘s bedroom and we both hop into bed.

I climb on top of him and make my way down to his dick. It’s a beautiful dick, thick and long complemented by a big hairy bush and big hairy balls.

I run my tongue from the head of it down to his ball sack. I get his dick, nice and wet before I get directly on top of it.

He helps me ease it into my hole. It’s just so tight getting in. But once we get going, he begins to start thrusting back-and-forth on me.

Moaning loudly and he’s using his hands to gently play with my cock.

I’m nearly screaming and our bodies are sweaty, and we can’t stop touching each other all over.

I turned my head around and I look at my uncle’s big hairy, stinky feet. I wanna suck on his toes so bad but I don’t wanna stop this moment.

 I watch his toes wiggle from excitement and it sends me over the edge. He’s thrusting in me faster and faster. He’s even going harder. I can’t take anymore, but somehow in the same time I cum and I feel his dick pour loads into my hole.

I looked down at my uncle‘s cum cover chest and I pull his dick out of me. His dick is still leaking and I even get a taste of it.

I turn around and lay back to my face or directly next to his feet. They take a big with his feet smell like a dirty gym. He just got back from a run earlier when he first walked in, and I realized he wasn’t even wearing socks.

I run my tongue up and down his soul. I realize it’s tickling the teddy bear a little bit.

A kiss each of his toes before I crawl my way back up. I feel him wrap his arm around me and I lean into my uncles chest.

I look up at the teddy bear and I say, “ do you want to stay this way forever?”

He gives me a thumbs up.

“Okay but we will have to work on your head. It’s cute but it will freak people out,” I say to him.

He pulls me in tighter and I can feel his fingers running up and down my back. Soon I fell asleep in his arms.

Two weeks later, Ted, which is what I like to call him now and I have gotten really close. He’s very smart and all they can’t speak. He does write to me.

I wanna show him so much, but I need to figure out how to change his head. I may be getting close in my spell book, but I want to be 100% sure.

So for now, me and Ted will just stay in the house. Honestly, it’s fine by me because the sex is amazing.

Coconut Head

Kent:

On vacation and something very strange happened to my older cousin. He was walking out back from the beach when all of a sudden a coconut fell off of a tree. It was so powerful that it knocked off his head and landed right on its shoulders.

I tried to help him pull it off, but it won’t move. We even took him to the hospital and they said just be patient. The coconut is on his neck so tight, but it will eventually loosen up. They said it could take weeks or even over a month.

So now I’m having to spend a lot of time taking care of my cousin’s body and his head.

Although it’s nice is if he does get a little sassy or bossy with me can always just leave his head in another room.

But what’s been really fun is while his head is away I get to explore his sexy body. My cousin is super hot and super ripped. I don’t even mind the coconut me and them because it lets me do whatever I want.

I’ll leave his head in another bedroom at night, which just leaves me in his body alone together. I’ll stay up all night, smelling and licking his pit and feet. Sucking off his cock licking his hole. I’ve even taught his body how to jerk me off and how to give a good foot job.

I’m not gonna lie I kind of hope the coconut gets stuck forever. He’s really talented with my cousin’s toes and he’s a great cuddler at night.

[cosmicalily]

"love (and caffeine) on the brain" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist and outline here

month 42: but two though? | fiance!kim seungmin x fem!reader

author's note: as you can tell by the title, this entry is inspired by 'juno' by sabrina carpenter (minus the freakiness). i hope you love this final chapter, and of course there will always be more seungmin content in my oneshots and timestamps!

warnings: pregnancy (giggles mischeviously)

“Hey pretty girl,” Seungmin mumbled into your shoulder, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your jawline, “I’m gonna go to the store; wanna come?”

You rubbed your forehead, downing the glass of water he’d given you mere minutes ago. “Yeah, okay. Maybe some fresh air will help clear my head.”

Seungmin looked at you with his head tilted to the side, an action that your beloved dog, Mini, frequently imitated. “I was just thinking . . . like obviously, you know your body best so I don’t want to assume but . . . are you sure it’s PMS?”

“I mean, it’s the longest fucking PMS I’ve had in a while,” you groaned, rubbing your lower back as you stood up, giving him a crooked smile and pulling on one of his hoodies.

Mini whimpered a little as the two of you closed the door behind you, despite the endless amount of attention he’d received all day.  Once you were settled in the car,  Seungmin rested his hand on your thigh as you hummed to the music, wincing as the pain in your lower back moved in waves of tension.

“You haven’t gotten your period in a while,” Seungmin persisted, giving you a quick glance as he drove, rubbing circles on your knee.

“What a good boyfriend, being so concerned about my hormonal cycle,” you giggled.

“I’m being serious, baby,” Seungmin replied, face concerned.

You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, you’re not wrong. With all these ongoing symptoms, I’ve been expecting it for a while now. I just assumed that it would show up eventually.”

“Two months,” Seungmin replied, pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store and hopping out of the car, opening the door for you like he usually did and helping you out.

“Seung, you’ve been counting?”

He shrugged, grabbing a trolley and holding the list in between his teeth. “I’m your boyfriend, I notice when something’s off.”

“You’re not my boyfriend, stupid, didn’t you propose to me?” you lightly slapped him on the arm, and his expression of concern faltered for a little, his mouth moving into an automatic smile at the memory.

“Fiance, whatever,” he replied, gently elbowing you back, then slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

Your eyes widened. “Wait, two whole months?” 

“Yeah . . . do you think . . .” Seungmin shoved the list into his pocket, looking at you. “Like . . .”

You paused in the aisle, mentally calculating everything that you’d experienced throughout the past few months. “Oh my God, I think you might be right.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hand and abandoned the empty trolley, leading you towards the medication aisle. You looked through shelves until you reached the end. Next to the pads and tampons Seungmin hadn’t bought you in so long was a selection of pregnancy tests.

“Do you care which one we get? I don’t really know if there’s a difference,” Seungmin asked, looking through the boxes. 

“Just get whichever one’s quickest. I don’t mind,” you replied, heart thumping hard in your chest.

Weekly groceries forgotten, the two of you headed to the cashier with two boxes and his hand in yours.

That was when you realised that even if you weren’t pregnant now, you most definitely wanted to be.

Because Seungmin would be the best dad you could ever imagine.

“C’mere, sweet girl, just leave it for a little while, then we can check,” Seungmin pulled you gently by your waist, briefly removing your focus from the white test sitting on the bathroom countertop. He’d set a timer on his phone, and knew that the seconds would take much longer if you both simply watched the piece of plastic’s little screen, yet neither of you could really draw your attention away.

“Are you . . . Seung, if . . . if it is . . . what do you want to do?” you sobbed into his shoulder, suddenly overcome with emotion.

“I’ll do whatever you want to do. It’s your body, baby,” Seungmin replied, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. “If you don’t think we’re ready, that’s fine. If you wanna keep the baby, that’s fine too. If you change your mind in a year and  suddenly decide you don’t ever want kids at all, I’ll be a little bummed, but I don’t care, as long as I have you, and as long as you’re happy.  It’s your decision, and I support it.”

You stared up at him, eyes like pools of wet ink. “I think . . . I wanna keep it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Seungmin’s eyes shifted into crescents, pressing kisses onto your forehead. “But if you really don’t, I-”

“No, Min, I do, I know I do.”

“Okay,” Seungmin mumbled into your neck.

He felt a buzz in his left pocket. The timer. You didn’t want to pull yourself away from his arms, feeling so comforted by him that you didn’t really care about the answer on the test anymore. Whatever the case was, he was your safe space, and you knew, just by the way he reacted and cared for you throughout all those years you’d been together, that he was the best partner you could ask for.

“Baby . . . you might want to look.”

You reluctantly removed your face from the crook of his shoulder and stared at the two lines that were set across the screen of the test.

“Oh my god . . . oh my GOD!” You gasped, grabbing the test out of his hands and holding it to your eye, before tossing it back onto the counter and shoving yourself back into Seungmin’s embrace. Tears of joy prickled at your eyes, and you felt his own start to dampen the top of your hair.

“You’re perfect,” Seungmin murmured. “You’re so strong. I’m so in awe of you and what your body is doing, I hope you know that.”

“It was you who seemed to know my body better than I do,” you chuckled softly, leaning in to press a long, sweet kiss to his lips.

“You’d be surprised by how much I’ve actually adored your hormonal clinginess, you big baby.”

“Shut up. I love you.”

“I love you too. Both of you,” Seungmin beamed, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach, before taking your hand in his and gently pulling you on top of him onto the soft bathmat.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @zelinkcrossing @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @nappynapnaps @yaniluvs @bellarellasstuff @btch8008s @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts - send an ask, comment or dm to be added!

[starlighttsv]

Lego sets - Paige’s daughter

💌 Syn: paige buys lilah some gifts as a reward for getting good grades

»»— warnings: las!paige - i wrote this way before the draft lottery and was to lazy to change the team and teammates

»»— notes: finally finished bringing stuff over from wattpad!! now i just have to bring stuff from here over to wattpad 😔

»»— word count: 1.6k

»»— pair: paige x daughter!oc || lilah bueckers

Paige, Cameron, Rickea, and Rae all went to target today to get some necessities but Paige was also getting a few things for her daughter, as she had done really good on her spelling test and math test so P wanted to give Lilah a little reward. Paige and Lilah always have mama-daughter dates, and most of those date nights are exactly like this: eating take out or cooking together, baking some type of dessert (mostly already made cookie dough) and building legos while watching some game show on Netflix. It's both of their favorite things to do and they always cherish those nights as they don't get to do it a lot during the wnba season and Paige knew Lilahs gonna grow out of it eventually.

"What about Star Wars?" Rae asks holding up the gaint Darth Vader Lego set "we already did it a month ago" P says not even looking at her, focusing on the Lego boxes in front of her "okayyy what about the Eiffel Tower?" "Did it like 3 three weeks ago" "Stitch?" "A few years ago. Did it my fifth year of college." "Flowers" "have done multiple different ones" "alright we give up" Rickea says as she got tired of them all listing things off, just to immediately be shut down by Paige

Paige ignores them as they keep complaining about anything and everything, just looking at the legos trying to find some good ones, that P knows Lilah will love. That's when she sees a Moana set and a Disney Castle set, which is perfect for Lilah. Paige grabs those and put them in the cart that her and Rae are sharing, Cameron and Rickea sharing another cart.

"Finally! Can we go now?" Rae exclaims "No. I need to get a few more things. You guys can go to the front if you want, I'll meet you when I'm done." Paige says trying to make them not be annoyed anymore, as they all have been at the store for almost two hours, getting stuff they all needed or wanted in their houses. All of their feet's are starting to hurt and not mention they all have been stopped by fans like every 5 minutes.

"No, we're not gonna leave you alone when we've been stopped like 100 times already by fans. What else do you need to get? And why was it so important you get legos today?"Cameron cuts in before any of the other girls could "I need to get some cookie dough, tru fru, milk, chicken tenders, mac and cheese, carrots, mixed fruit, and a stuffed animal. And to answer your second question, Lilah got a B+ on her spelling test and a C+ on her math test, so we're gonna have a mama-daughter date night. The legos, Tru fru, and Stuffed animal are her reward and the food is her favorite meal, and we always bake something on m&d nights." Paige tells them "wait she passed? Those were the ones she was struggling with right?" Rickea asked "yeah, I was helping her study words in the locker room." Cameron cuts in before Paige can say anything "yeah she was struggling with those subjects a lot, so that's why I'm giving her a reward. She doesn't know that I know yet, as her teacher told me so it's gonna be a surprise."

"Alright so let's split up, me and cam will go get the cookie dough, milk, tru fru, and chicken tenders. You and Rae go get the stuffed animal, carrots, Mac and cheese, and mixed fruit. We can meet up at the self checkout. What kind of cookie dough and tru fru?" Rickea adds

"Chocolate chip cookie dough and for tru fru, bananas and strawberries." Paige answers making Rickea nod, and start turning around making Paige and Rae start doing the same, heading to where the stuffed animals are. "Hey Paige, wait" Rickea stops and turns around making P and Rae also do that "when you’re getting the stuffed animal, get some mini brands and lol dolls. I know Lil likes that stuff, My treat." Rickea continues "alright. Are you sure?" P asks "yep, I'm positive." Rickea says making Paige nod "ok, Thank you." Paige replies making Rickea nod and turn back around,- both groups going in different directions to get the rest of the stuff.

They all met up like planned and payed for their own stuff, Paige dropped them off at Cameron's apartment as they’re all getting ready together to go to a bar, and Paige took all her store bags home and set up what could be set up, before leaving to go pick lilah up from school. On the drive back to their home P told lilah that there was a surprise waiting for her making her get excited and start asking and guessing what it was. Obviously Paige wouldn't tell her.

When they got home Lilah was rushing Paige to unbuckle her and get her out of the car, at least Lilah still followed those rules when P knew she really wanted to just run to the house. Paige lifted her out of the car and set her on the ground "don't run yet, I need to get a few things from the car alright?" Paige asks her making Lilah immediately pout, Paige has learned to just ignored that though.

P made her way to the trunk and got her bag and lilahs school bag and then shut the trunk, lilah was still bouncing on the heels of her feet "cmon mama, I wanna see the surprise"

"Alright Alright, come here" Paige says chuckling slightly. P picks lilah up and put her on her hip and locks the car with her keys, then started making her way to the elevator to take the two of them to their apartment

Lilah is still trying to guess what it is and has listed the surprise about 4 times but P lied each time and said she was wrong. They make it to their apartment and Paige set Lilah down in front of the door, grabbed the keys out of her pocket - unlocking and opening the door for Lilah, which she immediately runs through.

She looks in the kitchen first and doesn't see anything as P put all the food away when she dropped the bags off, then she goes into the living room. Bingo!

She sees the legos, stuffed animal, lol dolls, and mini brands set up on the table, she sees the blankets and pillows that Paige brought out and put on the couch, and she sees their favorite game show "the circle" loaded up on the tv

"MAMA AND DAUGHTER DAY?!" She yells mispronouncing daughter "yep! You did so good on your math and spelling test, I figured you deserved a reward. Rickea bought you the lol dolls and mini brands though so you’ll need to thank her next time you see her. "

"I will! Thank you mama!" "Your welcome princess! But there is more, for dinner we are gonna have chicken tenders, mac and cheese, mixed fruit, and carrots. For dessert I got chocolate chip cookie dough, and another part of your reward is tru fru." She just squealed and ran up hugging Paige’s legs, P bent down a little and put one of her hands on Lilahs head and the other on her back, trying her best to hug Lilah back with the gaint height difference

"Alright babe, why don't you go get changed into your pjs and we will start dinner once you come back?" "Okay!" Lilah says and then runs off to her room

Paige goes to the kitchen and gets the chicken and mac and cheese out, filling a pot with water and turning the stove on. Once that's done P goes to her room and changes into her green plaid pj pants and a UConn zip up jacket. Walking back into the kitchen Paige sees Lilah wearing her Olaf onesie Azzi bought her so they could match, standing on her foot stool, leaning on the kitchen counter watching the water

"You ready to make dinner?" Paige asks her while walking closer and looking into the pot of water, seeing that it is boiling "yeah!" Paige opens the box of Kraft Mac and cheese and hand it to her  "dump that in the water"

After they made dinner and ate it, they put the leftovers away and got comfortable in the living room, setting blankets and pillows on the floor and making a giant bed/ pillow type thing in front of the living room table

Lilah decided she wanted to open the lol dolls and mini brands now, so while she was doing that Paige opened the Disney castle Legos and started reading the instructions

"Mama look" Lilah said excitedly making Paige look over at her and see her holding a few small food items from the mini brands "wow baby, you’re gonna have your very own pantry soon" that made Lilah giggle a little bit. Once she saw what P was doing Lilah put the other stuff away and pointed to the tv "circle?" Paige asked even though she knew what Lilah wanted, already grabbing the remote and turning on Netflix while she was nodding.

Once the shows turned on they both start working together (pretty much just Paige, while Lilah plays with the legos) to build the Disney castle. Eventually it was built and they cleaned up their mess, laying down on the couch and Lilah laying on Paige’s chest. Paige turned on a Disney movie for Lilah but she fell asleep holding onto Paige’s jacket not even 15 minutes in.

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03

[almostfoxglove]

ALI FAKHSDJGKH okay it's taken me 100 years to reblog this but I WANTED TO QUOTE SO MANY PARTS IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW THEM DOWN. holy shit. this was??? EVERYTHING. like, this is the canon I needed - redemption for what could have been with Helena and fulfillment of every delusion I've ever had about this man. it felt so true to the world of the show and to javi I'm actually announcing this as Canon. sorry folks!! I don't make the rules!!

gonna pop some favorite bits under the cut :,) AH

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

lord help me I would not survive this I am NOT god's strongest warrior I am a puddle on the FLOOR this is him holding the secretary's finger and complimenting her nail polish all over again DSDKFHJK

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

this is SO HEARTBREAKING ALI like what the FUCK oh my god. I feel like I can hear her and see her scared face and I'm going to cRY ABOUT IT

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys. “Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

sdhkfjhaskjhgfa

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

OHHHHH, to take javier pena apart with a massage!! HOW I YEAAARRRN

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

I love them so much. she's so charming and brings out the CRINKLY EYES and I would die for them both ok ANY DAY ANY TIME

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

this is so !!!!! JAVI. saying it without saying it, ya know? that he sees her. I'm gonna cry brb

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently. “There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

MY HEART POUNDED SO HARD AT THIS PART I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely. Tell me where he touched you.

*screams heard in the distance* *more wailing* *barking* *hollering*

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

THE URGENT IN THE MOMENT NOT THINKING "BABY"??? MY PERSONAL KRYPTONITE?? ALI THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

oh my god the pain of this realization fucking SLAPPED ME I just!! was there!! feeling her fear!! my chest is so TIGHT the angst is so GOOD

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special. A code, a message. A lifeline.

this was such a perfect ending. hopeful and soft but also still so javi!! and I'm obsessed with it. I've read this three times, oops. AND WILL DO IT AGAIN <3 all the ways you wove in the moodboard (THEIR LITTLE CODE PHRASE AHHHHH) are so fucking perfect and seamless. ugh. so good. thank you soso much for joining the challenge and sharing this fucking masterpiece with us, WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. you are a talent and a gem and I adore you <3

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

author's note | written for @almostfoxglove angst challenge, i really hope i did this moodboard justice ghjfkd. thank you @amanitacowboy for reassuring me while writing this behemoth + translations are at the end.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

word count — 10k

The new influx of customers has been an adjustment, used to the elder regulars with orders that never changed and people who were grabbing a bite after a late night shift, it left you flustered as you reached for the pen and paper shoved into your apron, smoothing out the cloth as you approach the group of men, carrying on their conversation without a care.

“El envío llega el domingo,” It was Friday, which meant whatever was coming in would be here in a couple days—they never said what, but it was always something.

And their eyes always eat you up, hair pulled back loosely as you greet them with a smile, taking down their order as they keep their sights locked on you and commenting on the swing of your hips and the curve of your ass as you depart. 

Like rabid dogs, feral and hungry.

You’ve learned to catalog their conversation, catching onto a regular pattern of when things were coming in and out, knowing that whatever nefarious business they are involved in couldn’t be good—but they tipped well and that wasn’t lost on you.

It was almost a month of daily interaction when a new customer pops in, nearing midnight as he settles into his booth quietly, thin button-up stretching over his shoulders as he removed his jacket and tossed it into the space beside him, yellow tinted sunglasses tucked into his shirt, catching the ashtray with a single finger and lighting the cigarette already settled between his lips.

You attempt to greet him, lips parting before he interrupts you, barely acknowledging your presence as he spits out the order for a coffee, black. Dickhead, you think. The pen and paper is shoved away in your pocket and you swing your hips around the counter to fulfill his order with a side of spitefulness.

When you approached again, it was with a nauseatingly sweet smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask, catching his eyes briefly as they flicker up before he shakes his head, a roar of laughter and slaps coming from the booth a few feet away, perking your eyes up at the subtle information they were sharing, scooting out of the both as they slapped a bill on the table, passing by with a vicious smirk that had your blood running cold, the graze of fingertips brushing against your ass that had you biting down on the inside of your cheek to steady yourself, nearly falling into the table as they pushed by.

The stranger perks up at that, his eyes trailing over your body with the same robotic motion as them, but with an air of curiosity, like he was examining you and your reaction. 

“No—no, just the coffee,” He assures you, both of you watch as the group of men climb into their shared truck, “those your regulars?”

“Unfortunately,” You let slip without thinking, “I’m sure their boss would hate to hear how loud they talk about all transfers and shipments—can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

His eyes drag to your breasts, more pointedly toward the nametag pinned in your shirt. 

He speaks your name before introducing himself, “Javier,” He addresses, turning to dig into his jacket before he pulls out a leather wallet, opening it to flash off his credentials, “DEA.”

“Oh–I’m…I’m not…involved with them, if that’s what you think…” You don’t know why the revelation has your nerves shot, but the fingers that wrap around your wrist ground you.

Javier has spent weeks—not a single lead or piece of evidence to follow. You were his saving grace, a goddamn miracle. He tugs lightly, pulling your attention to him.

“How often do they come in here?”

“Uh,” You blink rapidly, trying to think, “Um—three or four times a week, usually every other day.”

He speaks your name gently, his demeanor changing as he releases his hold on your wrist before he motions for you to sit, looking around briefly to assess how busy the restaurant was.

At this hour, it was only you and him.

You slide into the booth and place your palms against the table, fiddling nervously with your fingers, watching as he puffed at the cigarette a few times before placing it in the ashtray, followed by a generous sip of his coffee. 

“Everything they’ve told you,” Javier begins, pointing his finger vaguely in your direction before he points down, fingertip pressing against the table, “tell me—not a detail spared.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your mouth opens, tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you try to access the memory stored in the back of your brain before you remember the small, mostly indecipherable notes you had been taking.

You rip the wrinkled paper from your notepad and pass it over, his brow furrowing as he attempts to decipher the information and to your surprise, he does.

Unknowingly, you had captured a loose schedule they seemed to follow when they shipped things in and out, the day trading off as weeks passed, constantly changing to throw off suspicion, but eventually things overlapped and repeated.

Quietly, Javier pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses over a wad of bills in your direction.

You stare at it blankly, eyes dragging up to his face as he nods toward the money.

“Should cover the coffee—and a tip.”

You reach for the money, pulling it apart to count, suspicious of the amount.

Prying the bills apart you count, eyes widening as the number rises.

“Sir—uh, Javier. This is…too much.”

“Not for the information,” He clarifies, peering cautiously over his shoulder, “If I come back every week can you promise more?”

You scoff lightly, pocketing the money regardless, “I can’t promise anything—besides, it’s always the same stuff. Just when things are coming and going, nothing more.”

“Can you get more?” Javier asks curiously, an eyebrow raising as he taps the ash off the cigarette and brings it to his lips, “Like, names—anything?”

“I can try, but—”

“I’ll pay.”

Unfortunately, waitressing was a shitty job.

And you were more than willing to allow Javier to turn you into his little informant.

You nod quietly.

-

His order changes depending on his mood.

He never orders food, usually coffee or whiskey.

Nothing less, nothing more.

And you do dig deeper, giving in to the absurd attempts at flirting and playing it up, allowing the occasional touches that make your skin crawl, returning them with fervor. Luckily, you had a strong stomach and handled it with ease, catching the names of the four that frequented the restaurant often, curiously asking about work and life, giving them vague or fake answers for your own when they pried.

“Three are single,” You tell Javier as you slide him a glass of whiskey neat, “desperately.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles at that. You’ve never heard it before.

It’s a nice sound.

“One is married, two kids.” 

You pass him a piece of paper with names and information, trading off for the cash he transfers in return, pocketing it inconspicuously. He’s never there at the same time as them, so the weight on your shoulders is lifted, but the creeping feeling of being watched stays put.

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

“They like it down,” You retort with a forced smile as a customer passes by with a nod, “so—up it is.”

Conversation was always easy with Javier, his charisma oozes out without even trying. It was natural for him, casually taking your hand into his during a slow shift, examining the lack of jewelry.

“Could get you a fake one, if it would help,” Javier suggests.

Unless you already had one, of course. His eyes flick up in a silent question.

“I don’t think it would matter,” You admit, “If they want something, they’re going to get it.”

The routine continues like this for a while, until eventually, it doesn’t.

A new group of men come in one Friday, the other, and another, throwing you off kilter.

They started rotating them, keeping you on edge as the information is becoming harder to obtain despite your attempts to dig and frustrations arise in Javier, but never with you.

Sometimes they don’t even speak at all, hushed tones at the table unless you’re needed—but, occasionally they get messy. It’s usually the younger guys, inexperienced, fresh-faced, eager to please the big boss but riding on an uncapped power high.

One of the men gets particularly ostentatious, always coming in on a drunken stupor and slurred words, eyeing you like a piece of meat that he was eager to sink his teeth into. He slips you his number more than once, ignores your polite attempts at a subject change when the rest of the men are hyping him up, and rarely takes your refusal into consideration. 

Eventually the fear that has built in you overflows, suspicion arising when you leave work a night after Javier had long departed, a night of very little information exchange outside of casual talk—and even that was forced, understanding how frustrated Javier had become. 

One of the men had stuck around, only a brief crossover as Javier had stepped into the restaurant, his eyes tracking you the entire way out before you’re pulled in by Javier’s voice ordering his drink of the night, squeezing his shoulder gently in response.

You should have known better, you should have spoken up.

Javier would’ve done something then, but instead, you convince yourself to forget about that uncomfortable feeling that crept in. You knew what would help, biding your time until Javier left for the night, ignoring how he seemed to eye you too, but with a glazed over expression of worry.

There was a car you barely noticed, swallowed up by shadows and turning on as you drove down the road when you finally clocked out, the minutes dragging before you pulled into the parking lot of the chapel you had sped towards with a weight on your chest and a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t recall that last time you had visited, but you were desperate now more than ever.

You needed solace.

Prayer comes naturally, dedicated to begging for protection over yourself, allowing the silence of the space to consume you as soft footsteps of other patrons walked by, just raising your chin as a hand clasps over your shoulder, nearly falling to your ass as you turn to connect the owner of the hand to a body. 

“Javier?” You ask quizzically, “Did you follow me?”

“No?” He looks confused, answering with full honesty.

That twisting feeling in your gut sinks further, looking around briefly.

“I can provide protection,” Javier tells you, “if you need it.”

You stay quiet, chewing gently at your bottom lip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it, back at the diner.”

There was only Javier, still mostly a stranger.

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

“I spent a long time trying to take down Escobar, I find that kind of insulting, chiquita.”

He’s met with silence, understanding your need for reassurance. 

“Yes, I am,” He tells you, his gaze unwavering, “I should’ve offered a protection detail to you from the jump, but I figured me being around often enough would work—did someone follow you here?”

“I don’t know, I kinda lost sight of them.”

You fall silent, staring at a crease in the denim of his jeans as you speak. 

“Should I be worried?” You ask quietly, turning your body toward him, “Like—are they going to kill me?”

“They’re getting uneasy,” Javier responds vaguely, before assuring, “Not because of you.”

“I should…I should tell you,” You take a breath, “One of them invited me to a party, I have his number. I told him I would have to work some things out, but I never…”

“Was it this weekend?” Javier asks suddenly, the lines in his forehead creasing at the mention.

“Yeah—yeah, why—”

“Say yes,” Javier urges, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was a big promise, but Javier’s pleading eyes worked like a spell.

“This is gonna cost, Javier.”

“Name your price, hermosa.”

–

Javier’s touch is white-hot, cigarette tucked between his lips as he brushes your hair behind your ear and presses the in-ear monitor inside, hiding it behind the gaudy jewelry attached to your ear and adjusts your hair back over, stepping back and raking his eyes over your frame casually, pinching the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and pointer finger as he blows the smoke out.

“It’s small enough they won’t notice but try and keep it covered,” He tells you, his free hand shoved into his front pocket as his presence fills your apartment, moving around sheepishly under his gaze, “I’ll be a few minutes away, if anything goes south I’ll get you out.”

You stumble slightly slipping on your heels, caught by his tight grip as he steadies you. 

“Sorry—I’m freaking out,” You admit, looking away nervously as his grip loosens but doesn’t leave, firm around your bicep as you sleep your other foot inside the hell, “Th—thank you.”

“You smoke?” Javier asks causally as you stand.

“Not really,” You respond, “Occasionally, I guess. It’s probably more social, if I’m being honest.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and offers it to you, placing it between your lips as you take a small puff without thinking or being told, an effective way to calm your nerves as you focused on the action as he points toward the cigarette, “Don’t drink or smoke anything they give you tonight,” Javier warns, “communication works both ways, I need you coherent.”

He pulls the cigarette away and places it between his own lips again.

The nicotine stings your throat and chest, giving you a noticeable distraction that calms your mind. “How do I look?” You force a tight smile, twirling on your feet as the dress clung to your curves, a soft, velvet red, “Fuckable, I hope. Otherwise I’m not getting anything out of them.”

Javier snorts at that, brow creasing at your crudeness.

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys.

“Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips, “fuckable.”

The way the word rolls of his tongue is visceral, ignoring the pulse between your legs at the vibrato in his voice and the chuckle that follows—regardless, it helped ease your nerves. 

–

It’s loud, sweaty, and overwhelming.

You thought they would choose something less…obvious.

But, it was becoming more and more clear how much of the town was under the Cali Cartel’s payroll, learning more and more information as Javier shared it with you in bits and pieces, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The idea was to mingle, drifting far enough away from your date that you might happen upon one of Javier’s more meaningful targets, not going as far as to infiltrate the heads, but someone damaging if you sunk your teeth in. 

You quickly come upon the realization that most of the men are confusing you with entertainment, rather than being a guest, quickly side-stepping the hands that reach for you as you squeeze your way toward the bar, sliding into an empty seat with a breath of relief.

“They are animals,” The voice beside you speaks—belonging to a man who was scientifically handsome; oddly perfect, hair perfectly coiffed and mused into place, a perfect set of teeth hidden behind plush lips and piercing green eyes—you had memorized the face in the picture Javier had shown you, “¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?”

You almost forget he’s talking to you for a moment, staring up at him distractedly before Javier’s voice speaks softly in your ear, “Answer him, chiquita. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh, yes,” You answer quickly, moving in closer to converse over the roar of music and the heavy buzz of strobe lights flashing overhead, “I seem to have lost my date, though.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirks, “I will keep you company.”

It does take a few drinks and you nursing your own, but you play into the act of being a mere accessory on the mysterious man’s arm, allowing him to drag you around the club with no real path to follow, eventually ending up with a smaller group of men huddled away in a corner, standing dutiful and quiet as the men talk amongst themselves in obscure words, almost like a code. 

“I can’t—I can’t hear them,” Javier’s speech is garbled, drown out by the music as you squint at the pain of the feedback in your ear, “can’t—hurry—”

Eventually, you find an opening to excuse yourself.

“Hermosa,” The voice freezes you in place, but the touch is gentle, surprisingly, “I would like to see you again, outside of here—”

You quickly ramble off the name of the diner, attempting to pull away, but not before a kiss is pressed against the front of your hand, feeling the heat burn through your skin like a brand before you’re slipping through the crowd, unable to take a deep breath until you’re outside.

You walk the distance to where Javier had parked originally, finding him buried deep in a conversation with someone who had pulled up in another car, hands curled around the driver’s side window, his head turning as he heard the distinct click of your heels.

“Fuck,” He curses, approaching you with his hands hovering around you—not touch or prodding, almost hesitant to cross that boundary unless it was absolutely needed, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You answer confused, nose scrunching up as you peered around him at the unknown agent, his window rolling up before he drove off, “what’s that about?”

“We think someone might have jammed the comms—there’s no way to know, it could have been the club itself, one of the agents is going to look into it—”

“Can you drive me home?” You interrupt suddenly, rubbing at the spot on your hand that the man had kissed, feeling dirty, “I’m full up on being felt up tonight and I want to change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier replies after a moment of hesitation, “let’s go.”

You rip the device from your ear the moment the passenger door closes.

–

Javier places your heels against the floor as you walk barefoot into your apartment, a simple but kind gesture as your belongings scattered against your kitchen counter, fingers dragging through the front of your hair and back as you smeared your makeup in the process.

“Oh, the uh—the code,” You remember suddenly, “something about a bridge, as the sun rises…something with water. The guy, the picture you showed me. He approached the four you told me were important. I don’t think they liked me being there, but I also think they assumed I was too ignorant to remember a few words.”

Javier pauses, hands digging into his hips as he paces near your door.

“Do you want a beer?” You ask curiously, the furrow in his brow sinking deep as he attempts to decipher the code, he nods silently.

You figured with the information bestowed he would leave, but instead he stays, sipping at his beer for over an hour as you watch him move, his brain working things out in real time.

He’s beside you know, hands pressed into the counter as he pushed his body away, staring down at his feet as he repeated the words aloud, but quietly, like a murmur. 

“Are you sure they aren’t distributing right under your nose?”

Javier’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, confused by your analogy.

You stare out your window for a moment, curtains pushed open, the gray luminescence of the moon illuminating the inky night sky, “I mean, they’re obviously paying people off, always partying at clubs—wait, the bridge and water,” A thought pops into your head, grabbing Javier by the hand before you’re pulling him to your apartment window, “what if they’re meeting on boats? I mean, not to say that’s how it’s getting it in, but—”

“That…makes sense,” Javier says, void of any distinct emotion as he takes a long chug of his beer before placing it on the ledge of the window, rubbing at the shoulder of his opposite arm.

“Annoyed you didn’t think about it first?” You tease, turning to tilt your head at him like he had earlier.

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, we’re still trying to put the pieces together,” He grimaces at the tightened muscles, rolling his neck as his hands settle back against his hips, “that’ll help, though.”

“Sit down,” You urge him, pointing toward your couch and Javier looks at you with dull amusement before you’re urging him again with your insistent finger, eventually he relents.

Immediately, you round the back of the couch and allow your fingers to dig into his shoulder, working out the soreness with deft fingers, “Shit—you don’t have to,” Javier begins to protest before your hand is curling around the back of his head and pushing it forward, molding him to how you needed him positioned as your fingers dig in deep, “that’s, fuck, that’s…shit, right there.”

His voice is pure erotica, but it makes your lips curl in amusement. It was that pathetic desperation you heard so often from the men you served daily—that slight pitch to their tone as they tried to grab your attention, but with Javier, he’s completely detached.

His hands were tucked between his legs, head resting forward as you dug in with a strong, pointed touch, his groan reverberating down his spine. 

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

“Oh, come on,” You tease, “I was just getting started.”

Javier shakes his head and stifles the laughter in his chest, resting against your couch as his hands circle the beer in his grasp, looking up at your face, tilted down toward his own as your fingers curl around the back of the couch, straps slipping down your shoulders in your relaxed state.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Javier checks, given you’ve had a proper amount of time to wind down from the adrenaline of being inside the club surrounded by dealers and potential kingpins.

He’s worried. He barely knows you and he’s still worried.

“It’s a rush,” You admit candidly, “But, I’m pretty resilient, Javier. Work is work. I’ve dealt with worse assholes on the job, I’m good at putting on a face when I need to.”

“What about now?” Javier asks curiously, eyes exploring your morphing expression of amusement to bashfulness, the way he’s staring at you outright, words unspoken.

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

He doesn’t like the way this job winds him up, the tension taught in his spine and unrelenting, staring up at you with a tinge of a buzz from the alcohol and the sight of your sloping breasts spilling out of your dress.

He’s used to driving miles and miles for peace of mind and a nice body to sink into, but you’re here, you’re smiling at him and he’d be damned to refuse the opportunity you’re presenting to him, leaning down as his hand comes up without thinking, twisting in your hair as his head turns to meet yours at the same angle, placing his beer down in the same instance.

“The fucking worst,” He echoes, his hands crawling up the edge of your dress as you climb over the couch with his guidance, speaking through rushed exchanges of lips, his hot, beer-tainted breath against your skin as he situates the dress up at your hips, straddling him without a second thought, “you were right about the dress—”

“Fuckable,” You both agree in unison, sighing audibly at the kiss he places to your chin, neck, shoving his face between the valley of your breasts as you work silently at his jeans, the clang of his buckle, metal against metal as you loosen it enough to free his straining cock, his breath catching as you wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his shaft.

“M-My wallet,” He chokes out, muffled as your tongue dips into his mouth, stop briefly to savor the touch as his hands cups your face, eventually drifting into your hair in a similar manner to earlier but then he’s tugging, “got—got a condom.”

“Of course you do,” You snort in merriment, “is that—is that what we’re doing?”

Javier nods eagerly, never separating more than a millimeter from your lips as you stare at him, his eyes staring right back, searching your expression for any minute twitch of deception.

When Javier fits himself inside of you it is with a broken grunt, a curse under his breath, and a hand squeezing tight at your hip, fingers digging into the bunched up cloth as he wraps his opposite arm around your back, pulling you toward him with a sharp snap of his hips.

You gasp, falling over the back of the couch as your hands grasped at the surface in desperation, the start of a quick but all consuming pace of his hips, his lips mouthing at your skin; arms, fingers, even over your ribs, biting gently through the velvety fabric of your dress, stifling his shaky moans, attempting to avoid the glaringly obvious fact that he hasn’t been able to release his stress like this in weeks.

A willing participant, a body, convenience. 

Deep down, you know. 

But, you found yourself in the same mix of issues.

Regardless, you both ignore it.

–

Javier is gone by morning—or, what is left of it. 

The exhaustion of the night and the sex catching up to you, coming undone on his cock as he gripped your ass, feeling the bruises he’d left in the process and remembering the soft, filthy words of encouragement he had whispered against your skin as you came.

He even locked your apartment and slipped the key under the crack in the door, stumbling toward the glinting gold piece on the ground and the folded up note on the ground, eyebrow creasing at the sight as you kneel to the ground, adjusting your dress hastily. You squint to read the hastily written note.

Got a lead. Money is for last night.

You peel the paper open and spot the money inside, eyes widening as you slowly realize that this was far more than he’s given you before, nearly double the first time, slowly you fold the paper back over and check the back, inspecting the item as a whole before you notice the writing on the back.

We should do it again sometime, chiquita. 

You look up at the door slowly, at the cash, before peering over your shoulder at the couch, still indented with sleep and a blanket strewn carelessly over the cushions.

He paid you for sex. He’d made it transactional. 

There’s a brief moment where you’re stricken with offense, half the mind to track him down and chew him out, but you remember how your exchange started and ultimately how it would end.

Plus, it was half your rent paid for from the result of the type of sex you haven’t allowed yourself to have in far too long, disconnected from feeling and fully freeing. 

Besides, it must be a regular thing for Javier and you couldn’t even blame him.

He was only doing his job.

–

A protection detail does work for a brief time, at least, it eases some of your worry.

It was a younger agent, Javier had told you, little to no responsibility outside of keeping his eyes on you and reporting back when necessary. As some of the leads start to blossom, Javier appears less and less, but still follows through on his payments when you have information to exchange, even if it’s only a name or time of day for something.

You do find the boldness to ask him about the money he’d forked over for sex, flowing lightly into conversation as he gives you a recount of his time with Escobar after a night of curiosity and lacking customers drags you into the booth beside him.

Always taking careful note of any personal tidbits he would offer. You knew he wasn’t married or that, at the very least, he was an expert at hiding it. No kids, no spouse, no baggage.

“Is it hush money?” You ask bravely, counting through your tips for the night as he sips gingerly at the glass half full of whiskey, “Because if so, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyways.”

His brow creases, confused for a brief second before you mouth the words.

My couch, the sex.

“Didn’t want things getting confusing,” Javier admits, “If it’s any consolation, the sex was good.”

“You’re too complicated for me anyways,” You snort softly, separating the bills accordingly as you glance over at him briefly, a soft hum in his throat as his lips wrap around the edge of his glass as he downs the rest of the liquor, “Was it a one time thing?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Javier admits, “figured I should draw the line early—you aren’t offended are you? Because if you need me to remind you how good it—”

As you finish, dragging the money into one pile, you shrug, “I’m off in thirty.”

The sway of your hips as you exit the booth and head toward the back of the restaurant is enough to have Javier suffering half-hard in his jeans, legs widening as he inconspicuously rubs his palm over the denim to adjust himself, awaiting the small nod of your head around the corner that comes half an hour later. 

–

Javier is efficient, you learn.

What first starts off as a casual trade turns into pure, unrestrained stress relief. 

It bleeds into work for both of you, finding time to drag him off into the back office when you knew it was available, fucking over the desk with any empty kitchen and diner as the hours waned into the early morning and everyone was either on break or asleep.

You never offer up much about yourself, very little about your life before moving to Colombia or why you’ve stuck around for so long—but he does know you’re disconnected from your family almost entirely, completely alone.

He has a huge family back in Laredo, people that clearly care about him, catching him on the phone with his father one night as they bickered lightheartedly, something about Javier needing to find time to vacation sooner rather than later.

When you have sex at your apartment, he always smokes afterwards, whether in your bed or by the open window in your living room, always careful about the barrier of clothing that remains, never entirely naked in front of one another.

He doesn’t look at you either, won’t kiss you further than something quick—a wet, sloppy exchange of tongues as he fucks into you from behind, pulled back tight to his chest as his hand strains and squeezes around your neck to turn your head toward him.

And he never stays, doesn’t stay hung up on goodbyes. 

He waits until you’re asleep, places the money at your bedside, and leaves.

But, there is a moment when you hear the tone in his voice switch, almost offended.

You’re both naked from the waist down and he’s thrusting into you lazily as his lips latch onto the section where your neck meets your shoulder, recounting the details that you’ve learned today, easily killing two birds with one stone.

He mentioned something earlier that night about a bust gone wrong, chewing frustratedly at his bottom lip as he spoke more with his eyes than his words before you had dragged him toward the back.

“Benny offered to take me on a date,” You address lightly, voice hitched as Javier used his palm against the inside of your thigh to spread it wider before it curls around the back of your knee and pulls up high over his lip, “he bought me an outfit and everything.”

He racks through the catalog of names in his brain.

Benny. Benny…Benito?

He wasn’t aware he’d spoked the name out loud until you’re responding with a soft acknowledgement as the desk bangs against the wall, your hand flattening out behind you for support, “Yes—same thing. I’m sure it’s for the—”

“The gala, yeah.”

He had spent the past few weeks trying to approach a way to get inside, knowing that this would be an opportunity to track the ever-expanding tree of sellers and suppliers, a front for the obvious drug trade that was happening, as you phrased it, right under his nose. 

The boat lead had only gotten them so far, knowing that there was much more nefarious shit going on that he was grasping at straws to collect off of, using you as his main source of information.

He knows it’s dangerous, but damn were you good at it.

“When did that c—come up?” Javier asks, grunting into your neck as his orgasm creeped in, his fingers drifting expertly over your clit as they had a dozen times before.

“Couple weeks ago,” You reply casually, both you falling into your eventual orgasms and only hearing him speak as he’s already disposed of his condom and was buttoning his jeans up.

“When were you gonna tell me that?”

It feels like a heavy weight on your chest, the clear betrayal in his voice coming from absolutely nowhere, immediately forcing you into defense mode as you sneer at him, adjusting your top back into your jeans as you tie your apron around your waist.

“I’m telling you now,” You retort, “I wasn’t even sure he dropped the clothes off here yesterday.”

It couldn’t have been that crucial of a detail, given that the gala wasn’t happening for another week according to the information that had been figured out.

Javier looks stiff suddenly, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before your hand is twisting around his bicep and shoving him back until he faces you.

“Is there something you need to say?” Your eyebrows raise slightly, expectant of the harsh words that were bound to be slung your way.

“I’m paying for information—honesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also paying to have sex with me.”

Javier isn’t sure why he feels it—it isn’t jealousy, necessarily. Just betrayal, that over the last few months you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share the information with him immediately, weary of the temptations of the cartel and the idea that they could pull you in, flip you against him.

He worries for your safety and well-being, knowing that he would be the one living with that guilt if anything happened to you. You were a friend at the very least, something few and far between for Javier after Steve had left. If he wasn’t at work or his own apartment, he was with you.

Javier forces a breath through his nose and huffs, eyes flicking toward you intensely. 

“It’s important to know this shit, so we can prepare.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, alright? It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I’m sure you could do your research on me if you wanted, if you haven’t already. I have nothing to hide and nothing to gain, Javier.”

His shoulders relax slightly, widening as he puffs his chest out and takes a breath, “Yeah, but they have plenty to gain from you—we have to stay ahead.”

Always one step ahead.

–

The gala comes and goes without much preamble—and you know you’re serving as mostly arm candy, dressed scantily as you hand on the arm of a man you barely know, paraded around as a prize he’s won and showing off to his friends, but he’s surprisingly respectful.

Or, biding his time. You couldn’t tell. 

You don’t force off his small advances, a gentle touch or something too close for comfort as he lips pressing against the shell of your ear, whispering something you don’t pay much attention to as you survey the event, spotting a flurry of faces familiar and unfamiliar, picking up on names and information as it arises.

Javier could still hear everything on his end with the small, nearly invisible communication device shoved into your ear, hidden underneath your hair similar to last time, careful of which side you allowed Benny on.

“My boss is sending us on vacation soon,” You didn’t pay much attention, but Javier was, “could be fun, if you wanted to go—I could talk to him, he’d like you.”

Perfect. Useful. You can already hear the words that would float around if the opportunity arises. You prayed it would never get that far.

“Change the subject,” Javier says tensely, knowing you were traversing into dangerous territory.

“I’m sure your boss won’t mind, I’ll talk to him, too,” You can feel the smirk over your shoulder before you turn, wondering if he had ever met the owner of the diner or he was purely assuming, regardless, you laugh it off quietly.

“I have to stick around and keep things going, they wouldn’t survive without me,” You switch gears easily, “I don’t see you often, just your friends—why don’t you come around more?”

He’s only appeared a couple times and both were brief, first to ask you to the gala and then to give you the dress, almost like he’d rather avoid the place entirely. You were careful of giving him any personal information outside of where you worked, knowing that it wasn’t already accessible information.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s about what I want, is it?” You retort playfully, a smirk growing on his face as his thumb slides over your chin, careful how deep of a jab you make, “It’s up to you.”

Benito’s hand rubs over the back of your dress and down, fingers modeling against the loose wrinkles in the fabric as he moves over the curve of your ass and squeezes, a small squeak escaping your lips as you bite down at the inside of your cheek, ignoring the knee-jerk reaction to elbow him in the stomach.

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately. 

The next hour drags painstakingly slowly, but eventually Benito drops you off at the diner at your insistent request, despite his pressuring you to invite him back to your apartment.

When you step into the threshold of your living room, Javier is already opening up the dinner had ordered at your subtle request earlier that evening, a smug smile on his face as you shake your head in exhaustion, sleeping over you hills in and instant and half-way stripping out of your dress before you even make it to your bedroom.

Javier grins in amusement as you thrust the device that you rip out of your ear into his chest, quietly tucking it away on the table as he prepares the food.

You’re dressed for comfort when you return, a shirt reaching beyond your thighs as you settle the bare skin against the barstool, underwear peeking out as you sit, immediately shoveling the food into your mouth.

You ramble out the names you caught onto, watching as Javier scribbled them down, rubbing at your temples to soothe the growing headache as you finish up your food and shove it aside, eventually slumping against the counter as you groan weakly.

You can feel Javier’s hand graze your knee, squeezing gently at your thigh, a silent invitation.

“I’m so tired, Javi,” You admit, “You can keep your cash, don’t worry. The whole thing was a bust, anyways.”

The chair creaks as Javier leans toward you, whispering against your ear, “Ven aqui,” He beckons as he pulls at your arm, guiding you silently to your room, half-expecting him to tuck you into bed and leave, but then he’s guiding you backwards toward the mattress and spreading out between your legs on the duvet as he removes your underwear, your lips forming into a subtle pout until he’s splitting you open with his tongue, a gasp escaping at the sudden sensation, fingers twisting into his hair roughly.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You inquire—it was new, a careful line drawn between you both earlier on that it was strictly sex, disconnection, but now he was trying to leave the impression of his tongue against your cunt as he devoured you all at once, squeezing at your thighs to spread them open further, a sated expression on his face that had to be a mix of his own exhaustion, delirious with want.

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently.

“There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,” You squeeze down tightly as your eyes fall shut, his mouth sucking over your clit as your back arches off the bed.

You come faster than you expect and had you known his mouth was so talented, you would have suggested this earlier, but through the waning of your orgasm you feel his tongue drifting over your skin in the wake of his previous touches, lapping at the salty skin before his tongue eventually finds the way toward your breast, swirling around the sensitive skin as your nipple hardens against his mouth, innately curious of his actions but not voicing them.

There was never any predicting with Javier, figuring that maybe he needed a little more distraction tonight, but as your orgasm dissipates and the hand in his hair stays, he never moves, only a low rumble to his breathing as you attempt to catch your own breath before you’re slowly leaning up and realizing his eyes were shut and he had fallen asleep.

Whatever was ailing him had finally taken hold, able to squirm away through his heavy sleep before you’re draping a blanket over his frame, still dressed from the day.

You can’t find the courage inside yourself to disturb him as he took up half of your bed, opting for the couch in the off-chance he woke up in the middle of the night to you beside him, stirring up another list of issues you didn’t feel like dealing with.

–

Surprisingly, you wake before him. The sky barely fading out of night as you stir, rising from the couch as the bulky phone on the counter—it was Javier’s, you knew that.

But still, you answer it. It couldn’t hurt, just tell them to leave a message.

Instead, as you hear the familiar voice on the other end, you find yourself pulled into an unsuspecting conversation with his father that drags into the morning hours as the sun rises, meandering over breakfast before you here him stirring in the other room, trying to ignore how pleasant but telling the conversation with Javier’s father was as you place the phone down on the counter and begin cooking breakfast, silently, still half-dressed in the clothes from the night prior, minus your underwear strewn somewhere on your bedroom floor.

He’d asked how Javier was doing when you told him your name, surprised that he was familiar with you, learning that Javier had spoken about you to him, though briefly.

Probably in passing, maybe. You try not to dwell on it.

“He seems fine,” You told him, “Busy, though.”

He’s always busy, he tells you. Cuidar a mi hijo.

He was worried, rightfully so. But, Javier was an adult, his own person. 

He wasn’t your responsibility and you weren’t his.

And you try to ignore the strange sensation in your chest at the immediate elation from his father hearing your name, like an old family friend hearing from you for the first time in years, even though you knew very little of his father.

You’ve learned enough about Javier, at least. His likes and dislikes, vague interests that he commented on, the grimace in his face that would grow deeper the harder he got stuck on something, a thought or idea.

Javier clears his throat as he enters the kitchen, avoiding your gaze as you slide the meat and eggs onto two separate plates before passing it to him.

“You could have woke me up,” He said, looking up at you briefly with mused hair, his shirt wrinkled from sleep.

“Your father called,” You ignored his comment, “you should call him back.”

“You talked to him?” Javier asks blankly, no distinct emotion shining through.

“For, like, half a second,” You lie, “I just told him you were asleep.”

He didn’t need to know his father’s worry or how much he’d given away about what he knew of you, secrets that were obviously meant to be kept between them, but as Javier chews with thought, eager to break the lingering silence, he asks.

“He mentioned it, didn’t he?”

You shrug your shoulders cluelessly, “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That I’ve talked about you, or at least, he knows who you are.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“He hears you, at the diner—he’s nosey. I’ve mentioned you in passing. I just…I know how he gets, I don’t want you thinking anything is going on,”

“I’m not paid to think, Javier,” You tell him.

It’s disparaging, his nose scrunching up slightly at your words and the emptiness with which you throw them. This is where he always seemed to fuck up, distinguishing work from his life but somehow maintaining the balance of peace and humanity.

Do you want to explain last night? You mind screamed, but instead you offer him his coffee, the usual black with minimal or no sugar, giving him the option as you slide the mug and container in his direction. He fishes blindly for his wallet but your hand stops him.

You sigh, “That’s not—I wasn’t implying you need to now. I—I just think we should maybe reframe what we’re doing, given that things have…progressed,” The word lingers on your tongue while you bite at your bottom lip. “I’m worried they might find out where I live or about you—or the fact that I’m literally helping the DEA catch them and praying can only do so much and I’m here alone—”

“Hermosa, slow down,” Javier urges, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at your guidance and avoiding the obvious domesticity of having slept overnight in your apartment and ate the breakfast you cooked him. 

It was in his nature to care, to a degree. It was his downfall sometimes, to a devastating fault. He striked while you were vulnerable and roped you into his own mess, now paying for it with guilt that had seeped into his personal life, spending the entire night prior picturing how Benito was handling you, how he could step in—how it could have been him instead.

“She doesn’t sound like work,” His father had told him a week ago, returning a flirtatious quip as you had passed him his usual coffee and offered him a light for his cigarette after his hadn’t worked, that sort of boyish tone in his voice that his father picked up on in a second.

The lines had blurred with Helena after a while, a similar circumstance that he continued to find himself in—paying for info, paying for sex, attempting to make it impersonal. But, here you were, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made. 

He couldn’t see you hurt or send you into danger like he had with Helena, the helpness he’d felt as he discovered her near lifeless body, covered in blood and bruises after she had been beaten and traded around—it couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t.

–

Javier returns with a phone later that day, similar to his with his number attached to a piece of paper he shoves into your hand as he directs you to pack a bag in the case of an actual emergency, something quick to grab that you wouldn’t have to second guess about. 

“You’re making it seem like I should be leaving now,” You tell him, taking the items he passes into your hand as you fold a stack of clothes and toiletries into the bag.

Javier shakes his head, “It’s better be safe,” He explains, “I…doubt—I don’t think they would be. We have someone listening around the clock, people on the inside, there haven't been any red flags.”

“What if something does? What if I can’t reach you?”

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” He tells you simply, your face contorting in confusion. “It’s a code—a phrase only you and I know. If you use that, it means danger. Through a note, or that phone. I just have to hear it.”

You zip the bag up in silence, feeling the weight of the web you had tangled yourself in finally settling, curious if you would be back at square one, fleeing to a different country to escape your problems.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

You nod, a subtle motion but Javier sees it.

“Javier, we should talk,” You echo once more, though with different meaning, “about last night.”

“I’ll still pay, hermosa—that isn’t a problem.”

You could handle the way it was eating at you.

“No, I mean—I mean why did last night happen? Why is your dad telling me to keep you safe?”

His face hardens at the mention of his father.

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely.

Tell me where he touched you.

“You started this, you know?” You remind him, “You made this transactional.”

Was he scared of you?

Eerily silent he remains, you speak for him.

“I’m not a whore either, so if that is how you view me—I really don’t want your help at all.”

The keys in hand are gripped tight as you chance a glance toward the floor, his body entirely unmoving, his eyes downturned and staring in a similar direction, almost like he couldn’t find the words.

I”m not asking you to give a shit about me, but—”

His answer is a kiss, searing and intense, keys tossed to your bed as his fingers dive into your hair, curling around your head as you make a sound of surprise, steadying yourself as you grip his biceps and stumble backwards, tripping over the dress you had stripped yourself of last night.

You still hadn’t dressed from earlier, his hands flattening against your hips as he molds the soft flesh under his grip, his teething biting into your bottom lip as he murmurs, “Belt, get my belt,” without question, your fingers go to work, ripping the leather away in a practiced motion as you continue to unbutton his jeans, “—think I don’t give a shit, are you fucking insane?”

“A little,” You jest, “I mean—I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

This felt strangely vulnerable, his fingers pulling at your shirt with a deliberate endgame.

Naked in the natural lighting of your room, his fingers reaching for his own shirt as you work his jeans down his hips, appreciating his tanned skin as it shines with a thin layer of sweat. Despite the sticky heat that permeated throughout your apartment, his touch is cooling, comforting even.

“Another freebie?” You tease him further, hearing him snort as he reaches for his wallet and crowded you on the mattress, opening the tight leather before he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into the sheets before tossing his wallet aside and diving between your breasts.

“Making me a poor man,” Javier retorts, peeking up through your tits as he squeezed them in his grip, mouthing delicately along the skin, “shit—but this, s’fuckin’ priceless.”

“I’m—fuck, I’m kidding, Javier. I don’t want your money. Never wanted it.”

It had always been about convenience, never expecting things to end up like this.

It was a mess, both of you were.

He’s seeing all of you, for once, and you him. 

And you know he needs, wants, without saying.

He fucks you slow, legs hitched around his hips as buries his head into the space beside yours, only rising as your noises grow with intensity, the bluntness of your nails digging into his skin.

“Inside,” You beg, “inside of me, Javi.”

He moans pathetically, lips squished against your cheek as his hips falter.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Can I?”

You giggle airly at his question, nodding fervently.

“Mierda,” He curses brokenly, groaning softly into your skin as he pumps himself inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim, oozing out as his hips slow, his hands kneading into your skin as he rests, breathing rapidly against your chest.

“We should—should talk, Javier.” You tell him again, after a moment of silence. “Like, really talk—you know?”

Javier hums in acknowledgment, “Tonight—give me until tonight, okay?”

Tonight was good enough, for now.

–

The first thing you feel when you rouse from sleep is pain.

White-hot and persistent, restrained by your hand as they’re tucked behind your back. You feel more hands, the sound of stiff leather and the smell, overwhelming as it invades your senses.

“I see why he keeps you around,” The voice comes from behind, eyes bleary as you blink before the hand in your hair grips tight, only catching the fist coming at you from your peripheral before your world goes dark.

When you wake again, you’re upright and in a chair, head slung back uncomfortable as you attempt to stretch, feeling heavy and groggy as you move, remembering the moment from earlier you become alert within seconds, eyes searching around frantically as you spot two men.

They were strangers, faces covered, but obviously sent here for a reason.

“Benny thought he could get it out of you,” The man says dismissively, “you foreigners—stupid, messy, predictable.” He grabs the fabric of your dress and plucks the small, miniscule device from the fabric that you missed, squinting to see it before the man breaks it between two fingers and tosses the dirtied fabric aside.

“We got her to ourselves, plenty of time to—”

“No,” The other man replies sternly to the obvious subservient man, “her boss—that’s what we came here for.”

“My boss?” You croak eventually, “At the diner? What do you want with—”

The gun he pulls from his back silences you in an instant. He reaches for the phone on the counter, the yellow sticky note still attached, “That him?”

“It’s mine,” You reply with ease, “I’m forgetful and—”

Your throat swells as he ignores you, dialing the number.

You hadn’t let the reality of the situation settle until you heard Javier’s voice on the other end, careful to not give anything away as his voice comes across more energetic than usual. They didn’t seem upset at the lie, but the finger on the trigger squeezed slightly as his voice came through, a silent order to play along.

“Hola, chiquita,” Javier greets smoothly, “¿Todo bien?”

You laugh softly, “Yes—yeah.”

You know what they want, what they need.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” You beg, voice unwavering as you stare the two men down, both of them seeming satisfied by your ploy to get Javier to the apartment without much argument.

The line falls dead without a response, the phone tosses aside to the floor as it shatters into pieces. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t going to get it easily.

–

You wished you could warn him.

One wrong move and the blade at your throat, the gun to your head—they would be your undoing.

You stared blankly at the broken lock and hinge of your door, footsteps approaching as you whimpered, the sharpness of the knife pressing against your skin as Javier whips around the corner and into the apartment.

The white-hot pain returns as you’re met with the butt of the gun, slumping from the chair as chaos whirls around you, curled up on the floor and crawling desperately away from danger as someone screams, gargling as it sounds, probably on their own blood. 

You couldn’t look back, breathing panickedly as you hid behind the couch and huddled in on yourself, a gun going off unexpectedly as your ears ring, gasping as you hear the sound of a blade puncturing skin once, twice, before it clamers to the floor.

You wait a moment, although it feels like eternity, expecting the cold press of a gun against the back of your skull, but instead it was a hand and eventually another, the faint smell of a familiar cologne that brought you comfort and warmth.

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

Out?

You look up, his eyes wild but lacking any indicators of violence.

“It isn’t safe here.” He reiterates, “Can you walk?”

You nod weakly, feeling his hand wrap around your waist as he assists you in rising to your feet, still discombobulated and wobbly, he sticks by your side as you grab your things, silent as he eventually, alongside the crowd of presumably agents and police that pass by, invading your apartment, Javier is a guiding light of reassurance before you’re barricaded in the safety of his car.

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

You blink, feeling the sting of tears as you look up at Javier.

“Things are getting worse. It isn’t safe for you here, not anymore.”

“Here? What—what do you mean?”

–

Here meant Colombia.

Which is how you ended up in Texas two weeks later. Laredo to be specific. 

Javier had a place close to home. His family.

And you had talked extensively, it was the only thing that kept the panic from consuming you that night as he drove you to the embassy, tying up some loose ends before he drove you to the airport without any explanation until he was shoving the ticket into your hand.

His father had been waiting for you, as somber in expression as his son. 

They were so similar it made your heart swell, an unfamiliar feeling. 

Javier couldn’t explain what he was feeling for you and you could accept that, but he was careful and adamant in the idea that you would spend your time at his home, already setting you up with a similar job in town, a seamless transition that felt strange, but oddly easy to settle into.

“What if I just left?” You tease him one night, hearing his desk creek as he head slumps into his unoccupied hand, “Would that be easier for you?”

“No,” Javier says sternly, “I’m—this…I think I might be done. Feels like I’m fighting a battle that I’ll never win, feelings fucking pointless.”

It had been months now, curled up on his couch as you stared out the window and toward the empty road, wondering if the chill of fall was creeping in as the cool breeze hit your skin, “No more waitresses to help you out down there, huh?”

Javier snickers at that, though it was quiet.

“Stop that,” He chastises, “It’s not funny.”

You giggle in return, “I know, I know—just remember who’s keeping your bed warm every night, yeah? Oh—and your dad, he keeps asking when you’re gonna call.”

You hear him huff at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he mumbles an apology to someone on the other end, the faint hum of the office around him feeding through the receiver. 

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.”

It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special.

A code, a message. A lifeline.

Javier was barely surviving amongst the cartel as tensions had pulled taut and drug trade seemed at an all-time high, nearly unstoppable anymore. 

It was beyond him, out of his control.

And for the first time in a long time, he has a reason, a want, to come home.

“Soon, chiquita. Soon.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it worried you immensely. 

“Don’t let it consume you, Javi. You’ve done enough.”

On the other end, his brow furrows. Disgruntled and annoyed at how right you were, echoing the similar sentiment his dad had told him a thousand times. 

He was done, he wanted out.

-

"El envío llega el domingo." / The shipment arrives on Sunday.

"¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?” / How are you doing? Are you having a good time?

"Cuidar a mi hijo." / Take care of my son.

[majoryeager104]

dabi with a user who gets cold easily? :33

Awwww this is gonna be so cute okay <3

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“You’re shivering again”

“really?”

“Yeah, you’re shakin’ like a drug addict”

“gee, didn’t notice”

You shivered again, glancing around the room at the heater. It wasn’t out, but it was crappy and old and didn’t seem to work well. The league had found this place on a rather cold night, snow billowing over the sidewalk just outside, and here you were still freezing your butt off even inside. Everyone else seemed to be fine, especially Dabi, but when wasn’t he? And now here he sat next to you with that dumb grin on his face teasing you as usual. He couldn’t help it, really, not when you looked just adorable shivering like that.

And yet, his little playful jabs hit the wrong nerves, and you pouted and crossed your arms, the latter being less of a sign of agitation and more of you trying to keep yourself warm. Dabi looked up at the other members- all busy either talking or gaming or scrolling on their phones- before rolling his eyes.

You see, the two of you had been seeing each other for a while, and he had no intention of making this fact too public. He knew the rest of the league (Toga) would pry, and he didn’t want it ‘getting in the way’ of his missions (a doubt planted by an unknowing Shigaraki)

Still, watching you shiver with that pout on your face, he couldn’t help but let that smile melt into something far more real as he moved closer and wrapped an arm around you. It almost startled you how much heat radiated off of him; every time he touched you it was a shock, but this time, a well welcomed one.

You looked up at him- not missing that soft gaze that held yours- before smiling yourself and settling in under his arm. He scoffed, trying to sound annoyed despite the smile on his face. Eventually he leaned his head back against the back of the couch, his eyes shutting. Something about feeling you under his arm that made him feel…safe, in a number of ways. Before he knew it, he was falling asleep.

You noticed, looking up at him, nervous to move for fear you’d wake him. You knew how little sleep he got, just what his physical trauma had caused him, and so you stayed quiet and let him sleep, smiling to yourself at not only his warmth but the soft smile that still lingered on his face.

Dabi’s sleep was rather gently disturbed sometime later. The heater had sputtered out and died, and despite him not noticing as much, he seemed to be the one carrying the load of the machine, because when he opened his eyes the remaining league members in the room were huddled around him.

Shigaraki sat next to him with his arms crossed, shrugging. Toga lay across the back of the couch with her head on his shoulder, twice was rubbing his hands and sticking them towards Dabi in a rather dramatic attempt for warmth. Magne was over by the heater attempting to repair it with Compress, both of whom were huddled in blankets and looking over at the warm pile around Dabi rather longingly… and then there was you, fast asleep under his arm. He blushed, rolling his eyes once more

“you people are such daisies…” he muttered, glancing around at them.

“bet you didn’t say that to y/n!” Toga teased, practically in his ear, causing him to flinch for a moment, scoffing. “No. No I didn’t. Gonna sue?” He retaliated, nudging her head off his shoulder. “Nope, just gonna tell ya that y/n told us we could huddle around you like a campfire after the heater went out”

Dabi’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced down at you, but soon his expression softened when he saw how peaceful you looked.

“Of course they did..”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

I think I’ve used this song like recently but I LOVE IT so I’m using it anyway 😌👌

[the-inkwell-variable]

author ask tag

thank you so much for the tag, @the-golden-comet! ooh this is gonna be fun!

i'm going to focus on my current wip, Why Should I Be Careful? I'm Going To Die Anyway! because it's still very much in the planning stages (despite how much I'm writing for it) and I have Thoughts

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

I'll be honest, I haven't really thought that far ahead. I suppose, if there is a lesson to take from WSIBC?IGTDA!, it might be that you should always chase your goals and desires, and screw what other people think. Maybe put a little more thought and planning into yours than Aura does hers, though. I mean, she almost dies due to her recklessness. Don't be like Aura.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Well, it's a zombie book - I love zombies, in case you can't tell - so the world is an amalgamation of zombie stuff I love. The zombies are based off of the Train to Busan zombies. This is a self-insert mess, so I'm using the town and people I know in the town as location and characters. Little tropes here and there that I love in movies and books alike. It's just a big chimera of stuff that I grab from stuff I remember and shove into it. It definitely needs polish when it's done, but I'm having a blast so far, so I'm'a keep doing it :3

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

Uhhhhhh this is a tough question. Right now, Aura is trying to make it to Roger's Grocery Mart to save her girlfriend, but most of the time, she's just trying to have a good time in the zombie apocalypse and hopefully not die. She does eventually grow into a character that (mostly) thinks things through and takes other people's situations into account, so I suppose the lesson is "the world doesn't revolve around you - be kind and helpful to others"?

As for what I'm trying to achieve... mostly, to be honest, I just want people to pick up my book and have a good time reading it. I want to write a zombie book because it's my passion and because there aren't enough zombie books out there. I guess I'm trying to inspire others? To show them that you can survive an impossible situation if you work hard and think things through?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

The only time I've written a full-length book (sorry, the only two times, forgot about Zero: ALPHA), it had about twenty-odd chapters. Z:A had...uh...thirty? That was a long time ago and I sadly no longer have that draft. This one is going to go until it's done. Hopefully more than thirty though!

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content! I have no idea where I'm going to post it. I'm torn between Draft2Digital (originally Smashwords) or Substack. Thing is, I'm really bad at marketing and keywords and all that technical stuff that goes into publicizing, so I'm really hesitant to share it at all. I'm the type of person that gets absolutely morally devastated if my own self-inflicted goals aren't met, and I'm not sure if I can handle that kind of crushing heartbreak with this one lol

So yeah. Might publish, might not. Unsure right now.

When did you start writing?

My dad set up a Windows 95 computer for me in his office, his old one, and taught me the basics of using it. I was five, about to turn six. I immediately sat down and wrote a story about unicorns. I've been writing ever since.

I didn't start writing fanfiction until I was thirteen and had just binge-watched Lord of the Rings for the first time. We don't talk about those works. They were awful.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Write it. Oh it's cringe? Who cares? Write it. Oh, it's a rare pair? Write it. You're worried people will hate it? Fuck the haters. Write it. Writing is about having fun. Writing is about pouring your soul onto the page. Writing is about getting those ideas out of your head so they don't drive you insane. It's about reaching that one person that finds your work and loves it. Even if no one reads it - you still accomplished something. You still wrote it. And no one can take that from you.

I have so many writers in my follow list. Uhh. I have no idea how many are still active, so I'm just going to tag who I know and hope for the best lol

@idyllicocean, @keeping-writing-frosty, @bloodtiesnovel, @asher-writes, @kitswrite, @theink-stainedfolk, @karkkidoeswriting, @lavender-gloom, @orphanheirs, @aquixoticwrites, @alinacapellabooks, @marlowethelibrarian, @flock-from-the-void, @dyrewrites, @storycraftcafe, @writer-imagination, @toragay-writing, @inseasofgreen, @stephtuckerauthor, @thatndginger, @finickyfelix, @eternalwritingstudent, @drchenquill, @paeliae-occasionally, @the-golden-comet, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @watermeezer, @goldfinchwrites, @winterandwords, @badscientist, @clairelsonao3, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @leahpardo-pa-potato, @mjparkerwriting, @rowanwriting, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @emelkae, @rita-rae-siller, @rebelxwriter, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @stesierra, @francineiswriting, @sunset-a-story, @chauceryfairytales, @hollyannewrites, @jaydenswaywrites, @captain-kraken, @violets-in-her-arms-writes, @romy-thewriter, @pure-solomon, @writingmaidenwarrior, @koiwrites

go, go follow them. they're all so good and make my timeline glow.

[quilly72]

May pushed her way through the crowd "I got it. I found it"

Emily smiled and bounced as may pushed into her. Brushing past her as she scrambled further into the crowd. Emily grabbed to the back of mays black cardigan barely holding on as they shoved their way through the crowd. "Where are we going"

"don't know just keep going."

Eventually may slinked her way into an empty room at the busy party. The scent of alcohol hitting them like a wall as they entered. May peered outside making sure no one noticed them as she shut the door behind her. Locking it as she turned away.

May smiled as she reached into her cardigan pocket revealing two red vials filled with a shiny shimmering liquid. "Is that..." Emily was cut off as may shoved a vial into her clutch.

"come on. re you gonna fuss about it or are we gonna do what we came here to do."

Emily smiled as she opened her vial the sweet scent hitting her nose overpowering the alcoholic stench in the room. She grabbed the edge of her jacket as she poured some of the liquid onto her jacket. Smearing it across her clothes before taking the rest of the vial and pouring it down her neckline. The sticky liquid melting on her skin as it fizzled in. Emily finished her methodical approach to their experiment as she peered over to her friend.

May was quickly seen taking the entire vial and splashing across her body. Only a couple of drops hitting her clothes. Most of it fizzing onto her skin as it seemed in.

"may did you just."

"yeah yeah I know the plan... But I really wanted to grow as much as possible"

"but what about your clothes"

"we'll get there when we get there.

Emily rolled her eyes as she felt her jacket and pants loosen. The fabric strectching and sprawling outwards. She took a deep breath as she felt a cold shivers spread across her body. Her body filling the void as it began growing with her. Her eyeliner raising upwards as she filled her clothes. Emily gasped as she felt her shirt and pants tighten. More liquid having hit her than her clothes. She grunted as she pulled at the neckline to give herself breathing room.

"stupid shirt, can't breathe."

Emily slinked out of her shoes as her feet twitched her shoes seemingly shrinking around them. Her pant legs slithered up her calves as she grew taller. Her sleeves barely reaching her elbows as she stopped shy of 6'6".

Emily smiled as she stopped. "Taller and modest... Just like we agreed."

May sheepishly smiled as her eyes rolled back. Her eyes twitching as a cold shivers ran along her body. Her clothes barely had time to keep up as she started growing.

May cooed as she lurched upwards much faster than her friend had. Her pants sliding up her legs as her cardigan popped open. Her growing bust revealing itself. May reached down strectching her shirt as it struggled to keep up. Her torso peaked out from underneath as the cardigan sleeves rushed up to her elbows. Her shoes tightened as she past Emily in height. A smirk spreading across her face as she panted. Her pants slunk up to her knees as she felt her feet barely fit inside her platforms. Her head right under the ceiling. She reached up to push up against it as she smiled. Her growth finally coming to a stop right underneath the ceiling. "See I'm taller and still modest."

Emily rolled her eyes.

"say what about we screw modesty and go steal some more"

[poisonivy7]

caitvi meet in a brothel: a one-shot

imagine caitlyn and vi run into each other at a brothel to gather intel about a case except they had promised each other that the lead wasn't worth pursuing

Caitlyn was making her way through the halls of the brothel until she stopped in her tracks, hearing a familiar voice. She peered into the room to see Vi manspreading, leaning back on the couch comfortably. "Vi?! What are you doing here?" "Cait? What are you doing here?" "I asked you first!" "I just uhhh...come here sometimes," she lied, avoiding Caitlyn's piercing blue eyes on her. "Oh really? You'd rather lie about cheating on me than admitting that you're here following the questionable lead we promised not to pursue?" Caitlyn replied somewhat aggressively as she grabbed a fistful of Vi's hair, forcing her eyes up to Caitlyn. "Uh huh, and what about you, Matilda?" Vi teased. Caitlyn rolled her eyes, letting go of Vi's hair. "I got this, trust me," Vi said, smirking confidently. "It'll be easier if I talk to her," Caitlyn added, noting the confused look on Vi's face. "Rumor has it, I'm more of Astrid's type anyways." Vi grumbled, eventually giving in. "You're lucky you're everyone's type," she said, pulling Caitlyn in for a quick peck on the lips. "But you're not gonna get anything dressed like that," she said, looking Caitlyn up and down. "What do you mean?" Caitlyn asked, offended. She purposefully wore a tighter top with a skirt tonight. Without another word, Vi unbuttoned some more of Caitlyn's buttons and hiked her skirt up a little higher. "Violet!" Vi walked around Caitlyn, taking in every angle to make sure her outfit was good enough for Astrid. "You want answers, don't you?" Caitlyn sighed, rolling her eyes. "I cannot believe my girlfriend is pimping me out right now." Vi chuckled as she wrapped her arms around Caitlyn's waist from behind. "You're lucky I'm not the jealous type...because I know what's mine," Vi muttered, one of her hands slowly falling lower and lower down Caitlyn's body as the other hand tightened around her waist. Caitlyn leaned her head back on Vi's shoulder as her breathing got more and more ragged. Just as Caitlyn was about to turn around to kiss Vi, Vi pulled away teasingly. "Good luck, cupcake," she said, kissing Caitlyn on the cheek. "I'll be outside keeping guard," Vi added, smirking.

[tanadrin]

Not gonna lie here, seeing other Anons talk about their doomer friends going into full despair mode makes me feel... slightly better about the path I've gone down? My own feelings are less despair and more disillusionment. All my life I've thought that we could all eventually get alone and that most people would do what's best for everything eventually, but with fascists and capitalists gaining immense victories against minorities and workers, especially in the last few months, the mere thought of coexistence between groups that want us enslaved or killed feels like an idealist liberal fantasy that never could have existed in the first place. At this stage, it seems that only way for anyone to oppose the brutal, effienct strength of capitalists and fascists is to become just as efficiently strong; we can't let ourselves be destroyed because we were tricked into believing that meekness was virtuous in and of itself.

I think this is kind of a weird take? Nobody ever really argued for meekness as a political virtue; there exists a kind of coexistence called the liberal compromise, and it's important, because the alternative isn't a utopia from which all bad people are expelled forever, it's a never-ending conflict along the lines of the European Wars of Religion. The fantasy is that if you can kill or punish or expel enough people, the right kind of people, you don't ever have to do politics again, which is plainly not true.

[the-fallen-collective]

Important!!

Hello! We used to be pretty big with roleplaying, but it got more and more difficult for several reasons until we eventually stopped (and have only just started to come back into it slowly, we still struggle to respond quickly all the time)

However! One of the main reasons we ended up stopping has been resolved! We now are free to rp again and really do want to get back into it (though we may be slow at first, and we may not always get to asks right away as we do have a lot going on, but we do miss roleplaying)

here’s a list of all of our blogs you can look through (not all are rp but im too lazy to separate it):

@creatorbiaze @aredeemantagonist @star-tb @asillyprettything (people we did rp with quite a bit)

gonna tag people we’d like to rp with more as well: @trashlike (remember when i asked if i could make berry a friend? I think ardor or harlow could! Though ardor has more of a frenemy type vibe) @lemon-reef uhh cant think of anyone else rn

[maxwell-grant]

I managed to finally read The Chimera Brigade and it's given far, FAR more to talk about than I ever expected, and much like last time with Mina Murray and my LOEG breakdown, I'm devoting a separate post to a specific character that gives me far too much to talk about to include in the main write-up. The character in question is a French pulp hero I've covered some years ago by the name of Leo Saint-Clair a.k.a The Nyctalope - here presented as the "protector of Paris", entrusted by Marie Curie herself to watch over the city, and just about detested by everyone who has to interact with him on a daily basis, with the feeling very much reciprocated. He is a profoundly funny character, one of the smartest and most purposeful usages of a classic pulp character I've ever read, and one of greatest, most incisive takes on a pulp hero I've ever seen.

The official English translation of the comic calls him "The Eye", because despite being from 1911 and not having seen any kind of continuous publication since his author was disgraced for becoming a Nazi collaborator, apparently there are Nyctalope rights holders from Jean de La Hire's family who forced them to change the names for this comic and to alter it for all releases of the prequel series Lehman and Gess did, which is a hilariously obscene and yet fitting note to start this on - the very idea of Nyctalope rights holders invested in the sanctity of their hero, which is very funny considering that, within the story of The Chimera Brigade, the Nyctalope is driven in no small part by the fact that his legacy was entirely penned by hack pulp writers, and he desperately wants to correct that so he can take his place next to the greats that he claims he used to be on equal level with. It's an extension of the all-consuming insecurity that completely defines him and makes him such a pathetic, funny, and ultimately compelling character to watch, regardless of how much context you have for who The Nyctalope is.

Saint-Clair, as his alias indicated, has the ability to see in the dark after an injury. He has an artificial heart. He leads a crimefighting organization, the CID.

His decline is all the more pitiful: after traveling through time, rediscovering Atlantis and exploring an errant planet called Rhea, Saint-Clair becomes a collaborator in a 1944 tale called Night of the Nyctalope.

Even as an outcast, he remains a major figure in the French imagination, the missing link between the "gentlemen crimefighters" of the end of the 19th century and the modern adventurers of whom Bob Morane is emblematic.

He is painfully aware that, next to the likes of Lupin and Fantomas and Holmes, he is an insignificant nobody, that history will simply not remember The Nyctalope the same way it did them, and he has no idea why. We can certainly understand easy enough why he is generally despised by the other characters: he's a weasel, he's a cop, he's vindictive and petty, he's a reactionary, he's uncomfortable to be around, he's rude and snooty and demanding, he's self-obsessed, he's a piece of shit, he's unlikable, and we eventually learn he failed his most important promise on the most profound level possible and has only aggravated the problem ever since. And he is aware of all of that, and none of that, in his view, should have any kind of bearing on his record. Up until the finale of this, he had brushed off his failure to protect Spain from fascism, the dying promise that Curie entrusted to him above all else, as a quirk or flaw on the record, comparable to Holmes' cocaine addiction. None of these flaws explain to him why is it that he is not on the level of Lupin and Fantomas, despite having known them and been, theoretically, on their level. He has no context for his own existence.

He doesn't know how profoundly the world is gonna forget him. He doesn't know he's the last of a kind already on their way to extinction. He doesn't know what Jean de La Hire is gonna do in 1940. He doesn't know that whatever legacy he could have as a proto-superhero is gonna be tainted to shit because his author was a hack who sold out to the Nazis and fled town for it. He just knows that there is a Canon, and he is not a part of it, and this fact is killing him and blinding him to everything that doesn't revolve around his attempts to secure a legacy for himself.

The streets of Paris are adorned with big signs of him as it's protector, he is invited to political conferences as an international player of note, and Marie Curie, whose discovery of radium and whose scientific institute defines the backstory of the entire setting, entrusted him to protect the city, a huge unthinkable honor that her own children are baffled by, and none of this truly matters to The Nyctalope, because it's not enough. He holds a position of authority and power, but he is far less concerned with the impending war and bloodshed than he is at what's going to happen to his own legacy. Best exemplified by a particularly funny sequence in Issue 4, where he attends a Soviet conference and and learns firsthand about the alliance/treason kicking off the war that's gonna ruin all their diplomatic efforts so far, and his immediate concern is "what about the Eisenstein biopic I was promised??".

A single hour of darkness, and the vampires will tear the city apart.

What is Saint-Clair waiting for?

The first deaths. The public will crucify us, all he'll have to do is name the place. Well played.

It's in large part this obsession with legacy and imagery that makes him such an unpleasant person. The Curies even state in Issue 3 that the Nyctalope is willing to let the Chimera Brigade fail publicly and let casualties occur if it means he can take greater credit for fixing a problem they failed to contain, and eventually you can even see why he is so obsessed with the public perception: all of his victories and achievements have been hidden. Defeating and killing the secret ruler of the world, protecting the city from the shadows or up top in his airships, keeping dangerous beings hidden in his cave, none of that gets the public applause the Chimera Brigade got for stopping that alien frog.

If he'd kept up his promise to Curie and saved Spain, no one would have seen it happen. He says as much in the last issue that even now, to him, Mabuse is nothing, no more of a threat than Cagliostro, and certainly not as big of a priority as those dirty communists at the Curie Institute he will publicly deal with first. If you stop the threats before anyone sees you do it, they might as well not have existed, and he can't afford that anymore. He needs to have something to show for it all, he needs to have a victory that matters, he needs to belong in The Canon, and he has no way of understanding why he doesn't already.

I've said before, on my old post about the Nyctalope, that he is inherently emblematic of failure in a way that I find very interesting in so far as what it can say about the genre he's part of. How, disturbing origin and weird sci-fi adventures and design aside, he really was essentially a fairly clean-cut superheroic do-gooder. A Superman, a Captain America, indistinguishable from any other idealized patriotic do-gooder, and how none of that changed when his author sold out to the Vichy government. How just that single turn exposes how contextual and finnicky the entire premise of a pulp hero/superhero is, and how what happened to the Nyctalope could have befallen any number of other characters within the medium.

The Chimera Brigade's take on Nyctalope isn't even really about that historical fact surrounding him, although it is very much cognizant of this fact - it is more so about the failure state he represents and lives in. He stands for France, and thus stands for the failure of France in the pre-war era, the failure to do anything against it's fascist neighbors, the failure to assist in containing the threat of Nazism until it was far too late, the obsession with legacy and preservation of image coming at the cost of human lives. The failures of the Nyctalope are the failures of France, and he is a perfect character to stand in for failure. He is the perfect character to do this kind of thing with.

Significant and recognizable enough that he matters, not too significant or recognizable enough to not be irrelevant. A guy who was a perfectly ordinary pulp hero, if not for these strange proto-superhero quirks and that inescapable shame of his creator. He is part of the Canon, but he doesn't define the Canon, and the Canon will not wait for him to join it. He is just one of many pulp heroes, significant as a missing link between the ones that actually matter, and nothing more. Self-proclaiming as the last of the greats, instead of just being one of the greats or the next step of the greats - of course he wants to be the last of the great Gentlemen Vigilantes so that no others can come after him and overshadow him - ultimately a historical curiosity rather than a true step in the genre.

There is indeed real pity, even sympathy, for this contemptible schlub. There is an acknowledgment that his past deeds indeed mattered, and that it's his failure to move past them and grapple with his true present obligations that damns him more so than anything else. A lesser story absolutely would have cared about giving this guy some due, some respect or acknowledgment, but The Chimera Brigade is unflinching and the Nyctalope is not spared. He is laid out in clear terms as a colossal fuck-up loser too obsessed with his own myth to be of any help, and why would he be depicted otherwise? What does it actually mean to be The Nyctalope? What does he want to be remembered for? What does he HAVE to be remembered for?

For his great past deeds that nobody really saw? For his great magnetic personality? For the promise that he never kept, for the city that he doesn't protect, for the country he's failed, for the allies he's pushed away and the enemies he enables? For all these great adventures and accomplishments boiled down to nothing anyone really cares about, penned in cheap disposable pulp magazines? He desperately wants you to overlook everything else that surrounds him and listen to his assertions that he is one of The Guys, because his legend doesn't speak for itself, so he has to babble for it instead. And that's the note he ends on - finally realizing that there truly is nothing left for him, and that he failed on the most profound level possible. That even his tragic realization of failure is accompanied by a hilariously pathetic reveal - that all this time, in his most private quarters, he has all of his supposed "peers" framed in posters looming above him, and he was waiting to put himself next to them.

Holmes, Lupin, Fantomas, they were seismic shifts, they were major notable steps in their genre, they changed the world as a result of them, they were The Guys - and The Nyctalope wasn't. He was noteworthy, respectable, but just that, and he couldn't deal with that - that his legend will fade instead of endure. Ultimately, all he wanted was a spot on the wall next to them, and he's at last acknowledging that not only he will never have it, but that he never deserved it.

Whether you knew all this context about him or not going into this story, all along, deep down he knew the same thing that you did.

[puddlesl1me]

Oh boy, me! How do you plan on torturing yourself tonight!?

Oh, another spiral? Ah, a classic. Well, let's get right into it, I suppose. Let the fun begin!

...look at me. Making this out as if its some kind of game show. "Oh look at puddle, its spiraling again! How splendid, what a great show!". Its an awful show actually, because its all the same thing over and over. We all know how its gonna turn out. No one likes seeing that many reruns in quick succession. Theres no point in running the show anymore

...except for the producer, that is

Yeah, this show's still useful to me. Sorry! I'm just going to have to keep it going, until I hate myself enough to die.

...look at me, trying to draw attention to myself. Trying to make mysekf seem special.

Im nobody. Why cant i learn that? Why cant i accept that, no matter how hard i try, theres nothing here? Nothing to make me a person.

And if i were to make myself become a system, like the awful awful dreadful crab deserving of the death penalty that i am, then i still wouldnt be a person. I still wouldnt be real.

I used to be. I used to have 1 side of me, and i was satisfied (satis-side, heh) with that. But i lost that, or rather realized i was just pretending to have it. Now i have no identity. Im nothing. Im nobody. Im actually not deserving of life.

Hhhh i keep coming back to this system thing. How im awful for wanting to be a system. How im awful for wanting trauma so i can be a system, so i can have something to say about myself. How i still want to be a system in spite of all of this. How i hope that the 1 and a half posts i made recently count towards being a system potentially. I hate myself. Im faking being a system to feel more important. Thats disgusting.

Oh, how awful it must be to read this and not be able to do anything about it. To see me suffering and to only be able to hope that i survive it. Unfortunately i wont stop, and eventually i wont survive it. Eventually.

..I cant do anything right can i. I cant make a vent post correctly, i cant help my friends correctly, i cant even make myself worse correctly. You know, i was supposed to help with that. I was supposed to make me (us? Him?) feel worse for all of today, and yet i couldnt, because this stupid fool cant remember any crabbing instructions. Stupid.

Theres nothing more to do. This is all i can do. I think if i make a vent post every day, i csn successfully make myself consistently worse for the next week.

[quibbs126]

So I was attempting to practice the Cyberverse style Optimus and Megatron, though as you can see, I got a bit distracted at the bottom left, and sort of just had to put something else to fill up space

I actually started practicing yesterday at work, drawing on my cardboard sheets, so it meant I was a bit more practiced when I started here. Though annoyingly, since I elected to not go over my pencil sketches with pen, I could barely make out details in the drawings, and I could barely tell what I was doing on Megatron

It was also going to be more than just their heads, but not only was Optimus’ body taking up most of the canvas already, I wasn’t really sure how to draw it at the time. The stuff at the bottom right may have been for filling up space, but I also did need to try and at least practice their bodies

*sigh* the real struggle is making them 3D things. It’d be so much easier to figure out the shapes if I didn’t have to. But oh well, comes with the territory I suppose

But back to it, I think I did alright with the head sketches? They aren’t bad, but they feel slightly off, like I haven’t quite got them looking right

I probably need more practice, and to actually draw them full body. Also probably wouldn’t hurt to look at more Cyberverse fanart for more exposure to the style

I probably also need to start actually drawing characters more consistently, instead of drawing sketches of characters once and then never doing it again. It means I never fully get the hang of it and I keep not really making much of substance

But yeah, I feel like drawing them again at a later date, possibly even with lineless. I just don’t know what to draw them doing

But anyways, on to the bottom left

So I had finished the sketches, and my brain was like “well since we’re here, and we have helm designs right there, we could try making up fankid designs?” and eventually I gave in and decided to start sketching. I knew it’d end up on the final product anyways, but I had to give in to my impulses

Sorry, I’m sure people are sick of me bringing up this sort of stuff

Then with my first attempt, I ended up with something I actually quite liked. So I was like, might as well fully line and color

I still like the original sketch, so I’m gonna put it here, and also since I feel like the vibes are slightly different from the final

But then a problem arose after lining and going to colors. Namely that I had designed this on a whim and I had no deep thought as to what colors to use

After some tries I ended up with what you see here, but I’m not sure if I want to keep these colors. I’m not sure it fits the vibe the original sketch had

The blue middle piece I’m especially not sure on. I think it looks off, but I don’t know what to color it

Oh also, his purple isn’t exclusive to his helm, it’s his main color for the rest of his body too. At least that’s how it is in my head right now

Also as you may notice between the sketch and final, the eye shadow came later, mostly because I thought he didn’t have enough Megatron in his face. But also because of that, I hadn’t made the eyes and eyebrows with that in mind. So if I draw him again, those’ll get tweaked

I still in general don’t know if he looks enough like Megatron. I suppose I should be wondering more if he should look more like Optimus, since general shape wise he takes far more from Megs, but I’m also aware plenty of his colors stray more towards Optimus anyways

Oh yeah also, he has blue eyes here, but I really don’t know about that. I wanted to give him something other than blue or red, purple being my initial choice, but I was struggling with the colors in general and so right now he has blue. It works but I wonder if it looks too much like a fusion of their eyes

He needs more work, just like Overdrive I think. But he is here

No clue his name. I wasn’t even sure about his gender until drawing made me think “oh yeah that’s a guy”. I do have a name in my brain for a megop kid, that being Starcutter (which the two probably didn’t pick), but I don’t know if that works for him

I do think I’m going with that idea I posed yesterday (well not yesterday, but yesterday I said “what if I put it in Cyberverse?”) of him being the secret megop love child that no one but Megs knows about

I don’t know anything about him other than he’s probably on the Autobot half of Cybertron but was never really involved in the war much. To involve him in any plot, he probably comes over to Iacon after the war to try and make some name for himself

Also another idea is that he and Megatron met again during his multiverse adventures, in some universe where he was actually raised by Megatron, possibly where the Autobots and Decepticons never split because Optimus was able to properly reason with Megatron. They didn’t take him on their multiverse adventures, probably because Megatron knows he exists in his own universe and doesn’t know how to handle two versions, but also possibly because he died, I don’t know. But it was these encounters that led to Megatron attempting to search him out when he returned to his own universe. This also means Dead End and maybe Astrotrain knows about the kid’s existence, but they’re under the assumption they only exist in these wildly different universes, not their own. Which may lead to shenanigans

But yeah I haven’t solidified anything else really I don’t think. Should work on a name

And I think that’s about it for now? Yeah I should draw more Cyberverse I guess

[fortemelody]

What are your thoughts on Team Chaotix joining the live action universe, if that time should come to pass?

ooo this is an interesting one!

i’m gonna keep it real and say that as much as i love the sonic movies/SCU i lowkey don’t want them to try to attempt to add every single sonic character ever. however, i feel like the chaotix might be “main-casty” enough to make it in, and tbh i wanna talk about the potential here anyways becus i love the chaotix so flippin muchhhsjfigntkr

i think the best way to go about this would be a second season in the knuckles tv show (for the sake on convince of my answer, try your very best to imagine that they had way more budget 😭). i think it would be interesting if knuckles maybe tried to go back to his tribe grounds to kinda reminisce just as sonic did with his cave, only to see the chaotix there solving an unrelated mystery. knuckles would get mad and maybe fight yada yada but in the end they would both help each other out on their missions. maybe the mystery therye solving could coincide with new info on his family lore, or perhaps have tikal introduced or even a brand new echidna character in a flashback involved (i’m getting the vibes of kinda like what sonic frontiers did with the ancients mixed with the SA 1 backstory) that parallels him in some way.

i feel like the fact that different planets exist in this universe makes this a whole lot more complicated too. i see the chaotix as refugees in that regard. the parallels do not end becus knuckles would see that vector and espio are not the best at taking of charmy, and eventually relate it to the growing pains tom and maddie felt when they had to take on literally 3 ALIEN CHILDREN 💀

i also feel as though the fact that the chaotix made something out of themselves from the ground up (becoming detectives) would give knuckles a new perspective on the endless possibilities that are out there that don’t just involve fighting- which i feel like ties in with the themes of the knuckles show.

however… if you instead want my realistic answer… i’d say therye not gonna show up for awhile. we know the general vibe of sonic 4 and then it’s likely that sonic 5 will focus on 06. the chaotix unfortunately aren’t in that many games with a story focus so like i think at best they could get a very short cameo at some point- which is what they tried to do with rouge and big (…anddddd i’m now realizing this means we could wait up to literally like 5-10 years to see them HELP).

anyways rip to the chaotix you never had a chance but i’m rootin for ya anyway 🫡

[whereismyhat5678]

OMG IM SO EXCITED TO POST THIS- 💥💗💥💗💥💗

*clears throat*

Dearest @noodletime 😌:

It has been a STUPID amount of time for me to not draw Evelyn and today was the day I told myself, “I’m going to draw this beautiful gorgeous Queen goddess and no one will stop me”

So I did‼️ :DD

And I think she turned out INCREDIBLY pretty‼️

BEHOLD: I hope you like it 🫶💕🫶💕

Listen- I’m STRAIGHT…..But she can be an exception ALRIGHT-