#and with a little disclaimers how the songs fit into narrative

[divkazkdovikde]

i need my tears ricochet to play on my funeral.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVII.

GIF by darksber

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Obligatory storm chapter.

WORD COUNT: ~13.4k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: the crime plot is slowly but surely progressing, smut, a very wet blowjob, p in v sex, dirty talk bc duh, using panties as a gag, praise praise praise, javi being soft and vulnerable my god, STEVE MURPHY MENTION!!, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: i'm just absolutely feral over these two... that is all <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3 [ paloma's piano song ]

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Javier wanders through the quiet aisles of the library, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet as he makes his way towards the now familiar astronomy section.

He pauses occasionally, eyes scanning the titles on the spines of countless books, searching for something that might hold the answers he’s looking for. 

What begun as a mere attempt to impress Paloma had unexpectedly blossomed into a genuine interest. It was during a reading on lunar cycles that a sudden gut feeling prompted him to revisit the case files.

And there, in the minutest of details, he spotted a new pattern.

Each date of the murders fell in perfect alignment with the full moon phase. This illuminated the otherwise randomness of the crimes—one girl per month, precisely when the moon shone its brightest. 

He read over the files at home, searching for any significance the moon held within the context of the original group, but found nothing. This raised a crucial question: Is this the same group resurfacing, or a new player putting his own spin on things? Understanding this pattern isn’t just a matter of detail; it’s essential for deciphering the motive.

The slow progress of the investigation is frustrating, with each discovery taking its sweet fucking time to unfold. But at least this is some kind of development.

“Did you find what you were lookin’ for?” Paloma’s whisper catches his attention, drawing him from his focused search. He glances through the narrow gaps between the shelves and books to find her standing on the other side. Her dazzling brown eyes meet his, a warm smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, actually,” he scratches at his jaw, “She’s standin’ on the other side of this thing.” Flirtatious as ever, he’s pleasantly surprised to see her. She hadn’t mentioned working today during their phone call last night.

Then again she might’ve, but after talking her through an orgasm then finishing in his own fist shortly after, Javier was more focused on reeling himself in from how good her pretty little voice sounded while she was whispering pure filth into the receiver. 

Part of her face is hidden, yet he doesn’t miss the entertained expression that dances across her features.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any books on the moon, would you?” He asks, trying not to let his mind drift to the sounds of her moans and pants over the static of the phone.

“I don’t think there are any libraries on the moon,” she banters playfully, “but we can always call the NASA hotline and ask.” Her teasing has him rolling his eyes, yet he can’t hold back a lopsided smile.

“Alright, smart ass, you know what I meant.”

She laughs softly, her amusement barely contained as she tries not to disturb the other patrons. “Yeah, we got a couple. They’re on this side, though.”

He licks his lips slowly, narrowing his gaze. “Really? Because I see a few right here.” He pulls out two books that had caught his eye before she arrived, holding them up for her to see.

“Yeah, but there are better ones over here.” Paloma’s voice is inviting as she slowly starts to move down the aisle, her presence a tempting distraction, and he follows like a desperate puppy.

They reach the end of the row, and now her eyes narrow teasingly, silently urging him to make the first move.

Which he does, obviously.

Rounding the tall shelf, he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close. The warmth of his body against hers is very welcomed, and she looks up at him with bright eyes that are swimming in excitement.

“You’re very lucky there ain’t no cameras back here,” Paloma breathes out in a hushed tone. He presses her back against the flat end of the wooden surface, gazing down at her.

She bites her lip and his eyes lock onto the movement, bringing his thumb up to gently pull the flesh from between her teeth. “Lucky me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to place a tender kiss on her cheek.

She pouts. “Really? Just on the cheek?”

“You make it so hard to be normal about this.” Javi leans in to kiss her properly, her lips warm and soft, tasting faintly of the coffee she had earlier.

His forearm rests against the shelf, towering over her, hip jutting out slightly. In his other hand, he easily holds the two books.

The sound of their kiss breaking has her blushing, hoping no one was nearby to hear it. Thank God this area of the library is usually a dead zone.

Her eyes fall to the items he’s holding. “Still keepin’ up with this shtick?” she jests, unable to help herself from doing so. Her laughter tapers off quickly when he shoots her a hardened look.

“Sorry,” she manages between snickers. “That was rude. M’glad you’re actually enjoyin’ it.”

“This shtick helped me notice a pattern. It’s why I’m here, actually. Looking for more information before I reach out to the professor at UCLA again.”

Paloma reaches out to play with the golden star pinned to his chest, her fingers tracing its edges as she listens intently. “What’s the pattern?” she looks up at him with genuine curiosity.

He explains, and she is truly awestruck at how intricate it all really is. It’s the same feeling she got after watching the press conference. “When’s the next full moon?”

“In two days.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“I don’t know,” he admits with a sigh, “Maybe enforcing a curfew. Make sure everyone is safe and at home. That won’t be very difficult to do considering the storm that’s headed this way.”

When it rains, it pours. The last time their little town had seen any type of precipitation was the day of Nina’s funeral, and that seems like it was forever ago. Now, they’re being warned of some pretty strong winds and potential flooding.

“Then maybe nothin’ll happen,” she suggests, her voice hopeful.

“I sure fucking hope so,” Javi’s eyes drift to the nearest window where he sees the gray clouds gathering in the distance.

He’s frowning, lost in thought, and she reaches out to get him to look at her again. “No need to get all frowny. Save all that for the town hall later tonight.”

Javier exhales sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders, his attention back on her. “You excited to see your future husband?”

She knows he’s talking about the mayor, yet she can’t help the way her heart flutters at the idea of that being him. She shakes those delusions away as his brown eyes hold an expectant stare.

“Y’know I could say yes ‘n use this as an opportunity to piss you off, but I’m bein’ good today—so I’m as excited to see him as you are to have to be up there with him.”

“You’re bein’ good today?” He cocks his head to the side, staring down at her with a roguish smile. “And you wouldn’t get very far with trying to piss me off. I know that asshole has nothing on me.”

“I’m always good, Javi,” she purrs, though her tone suggests otherwise. Her eyes darken slightly as she hooks her fingers onto his duty belt, pulling him closer.

His knee moves between her thighs, and she silently curses the fact that she wore jeans to work today. “You might think that, but we dunno know for sure… still gotta try him out myself. See if it really compares.”

The arm that was resting against the shelf comes down, and he wraps his fingers around her throat, holding her with a tantalizing pressure that gets her wet and throbbing.

A gentle moan sneaks past her lips. “You wanna ‘try him out,’ be my guest, nena. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Really, ‘cause it feels like you do,” she quips, her fingers grazing the growing bulge between them.

Javier’s grip on her throat tightens ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing with a possessive intensity. “Cálmate,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

“Make me.”

They’re jolted back to reality when a bang echoes from nearby, the sharp sound enough to have him loosen his hold and pull back from her. “Like I said, you make it real fucking hard to be normal about this. ‘I’m always good, Javi’ my ass,” he mocks her with a wry smile.

She giggles, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, as she bites down on her thumb. The sight of him flustered only entertains her further. “M’sorry… can’t help but poke the bear.”

Their moment is further interrupted by the abrupt static of his walkie-talkie coming to life. An officer’s voice garbles through, requesting his assistance with a disturbance at the grocery store.

“Be right there,” Javier responds flatly, his mood shifting as he hands her the books he plucked out. “Weather’s got people acting like fucking idiots. I’ll come back for these later.”

“Don’t sweat it,” she reassures him, clutching them to her chest. “I’ll bring ‘em tonight. Give ‘em to you after the meetin’.”  She’s visibly bummed that their time together is cut short, but remains optimistic about seeing him again. Soon, hopefully. Maybe on another date.

“Thank you, baby. I’ll see you then.” Javier leans in for a departing kiss, this one softer and sweeter. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of him calling her baby or any of the other terms of endearment that he has for her.

He adds a gentle nuzzle of his nose against hers before pulling away and making his exit, leaving her feeling all lovestruck against the bookshelf.

He knew the meeting was going to be a shit show. After putting out all relevant information through the press conference, the department has never been busier. Phones ringing left and right with false accusations, bullshit information, and the occasional prank call.

Partially expected but annoying nevertheless. No progress, aside from his own little lunar revelation, has been made.

So it makes sense that the people of Seminary are currently acting out in the stands of the high school’s gym. An unorthodox place to meet, but the rain had exposed leaks in the government building’s weathered roof so they had to improvise and move it here.

Javier leans against the fold out table that is placed right in the middle of the basketball court, arms crossed, watching Jonah Abbott deflect every question thrown his way, answering with something completely unrelated. Typical politician.

He rubs at his temples, craving a cigarette. His eyes scan the crowd until he sees Paloma sitting on the far left side, their gazes meeting and her mouth curving into a small smile which has him feeling a little less miserable about being here.

That is until the crowd starts to get riled up again, being very vocal about their gripes with the murders, as if officials haven’t been working tirelessly to figure things out.

The girl in the hospital remains unconscious and unidentified—who knows when she’ll wake up.

Another dead end just as they thought they were gaining some traction. Their knowledge of the occult only takes them so far.

Fear and anger envelop the room with an oppressive weight, voices escalating, each question sharper and more accusatory than the one before as frustration boils over.

“How can we expect y’all to keep us safe if more dead girls are bein’ found left and right?!” a man shouts, pointing his crooked finger at the three of them.

“This is what happens when we stray from the Lord ‘n quit instillin’ His will onto our children!” an elderly woman with an actual Bible clutched to her chest cries out.

“Maybe s’best if we took matters into our own hands ‘n found this son of a bitch ourselves!” another voice yells, and murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd.

His jaw tightens. He’s well aware that the deep-seated religious beliefs of this town run strong; and the murders, with their disturbing satanic imagery, have only heightened the community’s fears and suspicions. 

“Folks, I understand your frustration,” Jonah starts and this gets an eye roll out of Javi who plays it off by looking down at his boots, “We’re doin’ everythin’ in our power to find who’s responsible for these heinous crimes. But takin’ the law into your own hands is not. the. answer. It’ll only lead to more chaos and possibly more innocent people gettin’ hurt.”

“The law ain’t doin’ nothin’ but sittin’ back ‘n lettin’ it happen!”

Comments and questions fly at them from all directions, with smaller arguments erupting on either side of the gym. Javier and Romeo exchange a knowing look, silently expressing their shared annoyance.

The sheriff steps up, taking control to regain the order that the incompetent mayor had lost.

“What’s important right now is that we all get prepared for the bad weather that’s hittin’ us pretty bad these next couple of days. S’already startin’ to pick up outside now,” Romeo announces, his deep voice cutting through the chaos.

Quiet murmurs fill the space, the faint sound of rain hitting the roof almost amplified now that it has been pointed out.

“Most of the town is gonna be shuttin’ down tomorrow at midday, so I suggest gettin’ your essentials and supplies tonight or in the mornin’ before you’re shit out of luck,” he continues, his tone brooking no room for nonsense.

His crassness serves its purpose, smothering most of the arguments from before. He motions for his right hand man to continue, and Javier clears his throat, straightening his posture and pushing himself off the table.

“We will be upping patrols and enforcing a curfew after the storm passes through,” His voice reverberates through the room, steady and authoritative. “The anonymous tip line is still running in case anyone sees or hears anything out of the ordinary.”

Javier scans the crowd, making eye contact with as many people as he can, trying to convey his sincerity and determination.

“We understand that these are frightenin’ times,” The sheriff interjects. “We’re dealin’ with somethin’ unprecedented, ‘n it’s natural to feel scared or frustrated. ‘Specially when they’re bastardizin’ the word of God. But we need to stand together, support one another, and trust that we are doin’ everythin’ in our power to bring this person to justice.”

The room is silent now, the only sound is the soft patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder.

Javier notices Paloma again, her eyes fixed on him like he’s the only person in the world, and he almost stumbles over his words as he continues with the more procedural part of the announcement.

“We’re also working closely with weather experts to monitor the storm. We’ll keep you updated with any new information as it comes in. In the meantime, stay vigilant, look out for your neighbors, and follow the curfew to ensure everyone’s safety.”

The townspeople nod, their faces a mix of concern and reluctant acceptance. He knows that words alone won’t be enough to quell their fears, but he hopes that this assembly has at least provided some clarity and direction.

After a few more closing remarks, the meeting ends, and Abbott wastes no time approaching him and the sheriff. “That was great work, gentlemen. Lost ‘em for a second there, but you two wrangled ‘em back under control. S’why I got the best of the best…” his words are slick, and Javier can see right through the man’s bullshit, “that will hopefully bring an end to all this madness soon, right?”

Abbott doesn’t care about the town’s safety—he just wants the murders solved so the media attention goes away. The newfound scrutiny is clearly bothering him.

Apparently there is such thing as bad press.

“We’re workin’ as hard as we can,” Romeo replies curtly, his voice tight with barely restrained irritation.

Javier quickly bows out to ‘prevent any dispute from breaking out in the parking lot’ but really, it’s because he knows he won’t be able to hold his tongue against the arrogant mayor if he’s around him any longer.

He positions himself by the large exit double doors as the crowd files out. Javi nods to those he recognizes from the bar or his frequent patrols in town. The weight of their expectations adds to the already heavy burden on his shoulders.

Just another part of the fucking job.

When the last person exits, he chains the doors closed and jogs over to his truck.

The rain falls gently, wetting his hair and sending droplets running down the roughened texture of his bomber jacket.

“Here are your books, space cowboy.” Paloma’s voice catches him by surprise. She seems to appear out of thin air, a colorful umbrella shielding her from the rain.

“Gracias, palomita,” he takes them from her and puts them in the cab of his truck.

“Tough crowd,” she remarks, looking around as more cars pull out, leaving the lot empty.

“They’re just scared. Fear makes people act out like that.”

“You handled it well. Unlike others…” Her tone carries a hint of amusement, eyeing his wet appearance and how the raindrops fall from the curve of his nose and the cut of his cheekbones. So dreamy.

He chuckles dryly, “Tell me about it.”

Just as the conversation begins to drift into flirtatious territory, Romeo’s car pulls up beside them with the window rolled down.

Javier is glad he resisted the urge to step forward and kiss her in the rain, though he knows she would have liked that.

Her father? Probably not so much.

“Finally got Abbott to stop runnin’ his mouth. S’like talkin’ to a spoiled brat,” he complains, clearly frustrated.

Paloma finds this interesting, especially given how he used to advocate for her to give Jonah a shot and go out on one date with him.

It never happened, and now her father’s irritation is almost a satisfying twist.

“You campin’ out in that dogshit trailer of yours?” Romeo asks Javier, shifting the conversation.

“Don’t have much of a choice.”

“You’re better off stayin’ with us.”

The comment throws him off but he doesn’t convey it, gaze flickering over to Paloma, who has an encouraging look already in her eyes.

Accept the fucking invite! It’s a dangerous, dangerous game, but one he’s foolish enough to be tempted to play.

“You sure?” Javi asks, a subtle trace of hesitation in his voice.

“Positive. Got more than enough room. Beats bein’ hunkered down with just this one,” Romeo jokes, glancing at his daughter.

“Jeez, daddy, thanks,” she playfully shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips as she rounds the car and gets into the passenger seat, closing and shaking off her wet umbrella.

“Alright,” he concedes and she’s over the freaking moon, “Thanks. I appreciate it. See you all tomorrow.”

Romeo nods in acknowledgement and Paloma winks at him behind her father’s back.

She is kneeling over her plants when Javier shows up the following day. The rain from last night and this morning has finally let up, and she’s using this pocket of dryness to put row covers over her garden to shield it from the severe weather.

“I’ve always admired a girl who likes to get her hands dirty,” he says from behind her with a cocky grin. She turns to face him, mud covering her overalls and caking her rain boots.

“How original,” she replies, wiping sweat off her forehead with the back of her gloved hand, smearing some dirt there in the process. “So damn humid, feels like the devil’s ballsack out today.”

Javi chuckles and steps closer, affectionately wiping the dirt from her forehead. “You have a way with words, sweetheart. Where’s your dad?”

“Went to get a few last-minute things ‘fore town closed up.”

“So I can kiss you without having to look over my shoulder?”

“Dunno if you wanna do all that when I’m dirtied up like this.”

“I think you wear the mud real nice,” he murmurs, pulling her to him. He places a wet kiss on her lips, which she reciprocates without hesitation, her tongue breaching his mouth.

“Guess I’m not too dirty for you after all,” she whispers when they part, a flirtatious simper ghosting over her mouth.

“Never that, preciosa. Do I need to remind you how dirty you were over the phone the other night?” he raises a brow, voice dropping to a low timbre that sends a thrill up her spine.

“You might, actually…” Her pulse quickens, a flush creeping up her neck as she recalls their late-night conversation.

It was the first time she’d ever done anything like that, and while she felt a bit embarrassed at the start, Javier’s soothing, erotic guidance had turned it into something fucking incredible. Everything he does is fucking incredible.

He hums appreciatively, “Wouldn’t mind that,” his fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from her face.

He leans in again, capturing her lips in another kiss. His hands slide down to her hips, tracing the exposed skin along the side openings of her overalls, squeezing gently.

Paloma could really die a happy woman in his arms. 

Javier groans softly, the sound vibrating against her mouth, making her knees weak. “I should help you finish covering these plants before the storm hits,” his tone makes it clear he’s struggling to pull himself away from her. “Before your dad gets home.” He clarifies. 

“Yeah, you probably should,” she agrees, but not without placing a sweet peck to his chin.

As if she needed his help, but hey, when a man is willing; why not unload some of the labor onto him? 

She hands him a row cover, her fingers lingering on his as they exchange the material. “Can’t have ya standin’ around lookin’ all pretty while I do all the hard work.” She beams.

“We certainly can’t have that,” there’s a grin on his face as he moves to help her finish the task.

Javier’s hands are deft and strong as he secures the covers, getting dirtied up and looking straight up manly. It has her clit tingling with arousal, imagining his fingers inside of her again and how fucking amazing they felt when she rode them in the bed of his truck. 

Between his uniformed presence and country boy charm—this man is going to be the death of her.

His eyes never stray far from her, drinking in every detail of her mud-splattered appearance as she moves between planter boxes.

She catches him looking each time, sending a wink his way and his tongue pokes against his cheek bashfully.

He can’t help it, Paloma is just so beautiful.

A piece of wood, obscured by the mud, has Javier tripping over it, his feet betraying him as he loses balance on the slick, muddy ground.

Her hands fly up to cover her mouth in shock, eyes wide as she watches him go down, mud splattering everywhere.

She almost bursts into laughter but catches herself, the worry for him outweighing the amusement.

“Oh my goodness gracious, are you okay?!” she rushes towards him and discards her gloves.

Javier lies on his back, the cold, wet mud oozing through his shirt and coating his skin. He looks up at her, squinting one eye close. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he grunts, despite the faint ache he feels at his lower back.

Sitting up, he extends his hand towards her to get him back on his feet.

As soon as their hands touch, he seizes the moment. With a mischievous grin, he yanks her down with him.

She gasps, a startled shriek escaping her lips as she tumbles into the thick, squelchy mud beside him. 

“I knew you were goin’ to do that!” she exclaims with exasperation and laughter.

“And yet you still tried to help me up anyway,” he retorts with a playful smirk.

With a flick of her wrist, she sends a handful of mud flying at him. It lands squarely on his cheek, sliding down in a comical, slow-motion descent until it plops into a heap on his lap.

“Oops,” she says with a feigned innocence.

In mere moments, they’re both engulfed in a muddy, joyful chaos. They spring to their feet and Javier begins to chase her around the garden, both of them taking turns flinging mud at each other.

They’re so engrossed in their antics that they don’t notice Romeo’s return.

The sight of them through the large bay window in the kitchen catches him off guard. He furrows his brows, puzzled and slightly amused by the raucous scene.

“Y’all look like a pair ‘a pigs runnin’ around like this.” her father’s voice rings out, dripping with bemusement as he descends the back porch steps.

His sturdy boots thud against the wooden planks when he approaches, gaze sweeping over them, taking in the sight of their disheveled, mud-coated figures.

“Javi slipped tryin’ to help me put the covers on and it was the funniest thing ever,” Paloma explains, her voice a little too high-pitched as she fails to clean herself up completely, wiping at her muddy cheeks, only managing to spread it further.

“Well, I reckon that’s one way to make a mess of things,” Romeo drawls, his gaze fixed on Javier with a pointed, almost accusatory edge.

Javier, caked in mud and feeling every bit like an overgrown teenager caught in trouble, manages a self-deprecating laugh. “Guess I’m not as graceful as I thought.”

He knows he needs to have the awkward conversation sooner rather than later. He has to tell Romeo about his relationship with Paloma and face whatever fallout comes with it.

She insists that her father will eventually come around, but it’s the immediate, explosive reaction that he dreads. He has to brace himself for the storm of anger and disappointment that is sure to erupt.

It won’t happen today nor tomorrow—not when he’s been offered shelter under his roof that Javi had stupidly agreed to, just to be near his fucking daughter.

What’s romance without a little risk?

“Well shit, if you wanna rinse off, I’d give it about…” Romeo glances up at the sky, his eyes calculating the darkening clouds. “Ten minutes ‘fore it starts raining again. Or you can use the hose,” he adds, gesturing towards the garden hose coiled beside the shed. 

“M’not gonna get caught in the storm. Don’t wanna get shocked up. We’ll use the hose.” Paloma replies.

“Right,” he grunts, rubbing his jaw. He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I gotta finish puttin’ everythin’ away inside. Sure I can trust y’all out here?”

What a loaded fucking question.

“We’ll be fine, daddy. S’just a little mud.”

“I’ll try not to slip again,” Javier adds with a dry laugh, hoping he didn’t just make himself look like a clumsy idiot in front of the older man.

The sheriff snorts and gives a curt nod. “Alright then, you do that. Don’t need y’all trackin’ muck into the house.” He mutters, turning on his heel and heading back inside. 

Javier watches him go, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he turns to Paloma. “Skatin’ on thin ice,” he says, beginning to walk towards the shed and trying to get some of the wet dirt off him.

Paloma’s smile fades slightly, a hint of frustration edging her words. “Wouldn’t be if someone––”

“Okay,” he cuts her off gently, already knowing where that conversation is headed. “Let’s rinse off before he comes back out here and kicks my ass.”

She huffs out a laugh, “Fine. Glad you knew where I was goin’ with that.”

Javier reaches for the hose, adjusting the nozzle to a gentle spray, then aims it at her soiled overalls. The cool water hits the fabric, making the mud dissolve into dark, swirling rivulets. As the grime starts to wash away, he moves methodically, making sure to hit every spot.

Paloma watches him, her heart warming at his careful attention. The water cascades down her clothes, revealing glimpses of her soft curves beneath the mess.

When he’s done, she takes the hose from him with a mischievous grin. “Mi turno.”

As she works, she decides to be bold by reaching out to touch him. Her fingers brush against his skin and Javier’s throat bobs, meeting her eyes with a wary look then glancing over her shoulder to make sure Romeo wasn’t watching them from the house.

“Thin. Ice.” He repeats.

“Live a little,” she counters with a playful lilt.

She leans in closer, her wet body brushing against his as she continues to rinse. The proximity feels like a charged exchange of impulsiveness since they both can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, even with the looming threat of her father’s presence just inside. 

When she finishes, Paloma sets the hose down, her fingers lingering longer than necessary, his shirt clinging to his torso, accentuating the lines of his muscles, luring her in.

She looks up at him. “All clean.”

“You want him to kill me.”

“No, this is just fun… ‘n I love seein’ you squirm like a lil worm.”

He licks across the bottom row of his teeth, “You keep fuckin’ around like this, nena, and I’ll have no choice but to put you in your place.” She wants him to squirm, fine, but he’ll make sure to return that energy tenth fold.

“That a promise?”

“You really want to see how far you can push me, huh?”

“Un poco.” She pinches her thumb and pointer finger together, mocking him and he scoffs.

“Gettin’ in over your head babygirl. Now’s not the time to do this, not when I can’t bend you over and fuck you stupid. Then you wouldn’t have a choice but to shut up and be compliant.”

Oh fuck, his words go straight to her pussy and her heart skips a beat. “Who says you can’t do that?”

Javier groans. Nope, not doing this right now. “You’re baiting me like a fuckin’ fish and I’m not gettin’ hooked. Inside. Go.”

She smirks like she’s just won the fucking lottery, stomping back towards the house with her chin held high.

If anyone is in over their heads here it’s him, accepting Romeo’s invitation to stay knowing Paloma is his greatest temptation.

The rest of the afternoon unfolds with a sense of normalcy, despite the tempest raging outside. The sky has grown dark, pierced by occasional flashes of lightning that illuminate the living room. Thunder rumbles intermittently, its low growl resonating through the house, while the wind howls and the rain pelts against the windows, creating a rhythmic drumming sound that is soothing yet insistent.

Inside, the atmosphere is comforting. After showering off their mess from the mud, they settle into the warmth of the house.

Paloma busies herself in the kitchen, preparing an early dinner just in case the power goes out. 

They used to have a back up generator, but it crapped out on them last year and her father, ever the forgetful one, never got around to replacing it.

Javier and Romeo are engrossed in a tense card game at the dining table, their competitive banter punctuated by the clinking of chips and the shuffling of cards.

They sneak glances at each other every so often, their eyes conveying what they can’t say aloud.

Lingering touches become their secret language—his fingers brushing her arm when he scoots past her to grab another beer from the fridge, her body pressing subtly against his as she reaches over to grab something from the table.

If there was ever a time to show restraint, it’s now. She treats this as a game, trying to get him to break in front of her father, to force him into a confrontation.

Her eyes sparkle with mischief, daring him to give in. He meets her gaze with a steady determination, silently promising that he won’t let her win so easily.

Eventually the three of them migrate to the living room. Romeo, having suggested an old movie to pass the time, is sprawled out on the couch, his snores becoming a steady background noise.

The movie plays on the screen, its dialogue a distant murmur amidst the storm. It’s a miracle the power hasn’t gone out yet.

Paloma uses this brief respite to seize a moment alone with Javier.

Quietly beckoning him down the hall, she leads him to the family dining room where a grand piano sits in the corner. It was a gift from the church, given to her on her tenth birthday.

After flicking on the lamp, she settles onto the bench, her fingers poised above the keys with a delicate grace.

She begins to play, her touch tentative at first, then gradually more confident as the familiar notes fill the room.

Javier leans against the door frame, mesmerized by the scene before him. He watches her intently, captivated by the subtle expressions that flit across her face as she listens to each note, her eyes closed in concentration.

He breaks the spell with a gentle question, “How long have you been playing?”

She glances over at him, her expression wistful. “Ever since I could, really. Momma wasted no time in teachin’ me.” Her voice carries a touch of nostalgia, a subtle sadness that she hopes goes unnoticed.

She’s relieved when Javier doesn’t press further. Instead, he simply nods, his understanding evident in his gaze.

“Come sit,” Paloma invites, her voice honeyed like it always is. She shifts slightly on the bench, patting the empty space beside her.

Javier moves to join her, their shoulders brushing. He’s too damn broad to be sitting on this small ass seat.

He does feels a flutter of excitement at hearing her like this. It’s different from her shows at the bar, more intimate and personal, reminding him of that time in the shed when he was fixing her car and she played her guitar.

The memory of her song about Nina, which she hasn’t brought up since that day, lingers in his mind.

“It ain’t anythin’ new, just an old song I wrote after George,” she begins, and a small, sad smile touches her lips. He wants to kiss it away. “It’s my favorite to play on the piano. You can really feel the heartbreak.”

“Your heartbreak?” he asks, the question slipping out before he can catch it. He bites the inside of his lip, worried that he’s overstepped somehow.

“Mhm,” she doesn’t mind, opening the folder that rests against the music desk and pulling out her short-hand sheet music. “Took me so long to finish it. I was stuck on this bench for what felt like an eternity before I got it done.”

He doesn’t know what to say and she doesn’t expect him to be necessarily chatty. They’re taking turns showing their vulnerability, sharing a little at a time at a pace that seems to be benefiting them both and their relationship.

The room is filled with the soft, melodic strains of the piano as she starts again, blending with the patter of rain and rumbling of the thunder. Her voice joins shortly after, and the entire time Javier can’t keep his eyes off her. 

Beneath the warmth of his admiration, Paloma feels oh so exposed. She’s never played this for anyone before, and the only reason she’s doing it now is because she wants him to understand why it’s so important to her that he doesn’t love her in secret. That he doesn’t string her along.

She’s already been through that heartbreak before, and it left her with this nasty, harrowing feeling that didn’t go away for years. Now, considering everything they’ve been through, she knows she won’t be able to recover if things go awry again.

And he listens—Javi listens to each word that falls from her lips, her voice soft to compliment their surroundings.

She’s got real talent; he’s known that from the dozens of times he’s been at her shows, hell it was evident at the fair. But here, with just her voice and the piano, weaving a story that is both haunting and beautiful; she’s opened herself up to him, letting him glimpse her pain.

She doesn’t do it in a verbal confrontation; she does it in her own way, and the message comes across just the same.

Sure, Javier might not be good with words, but he doesn’t need them to let her in. He just needs to lower his guard and not hide from her or any of his past grievances.

He’s never met anyone who makes him self-reflect as much as she does.

As the final notes fade into the quiet, the sounds of the weather seamlessly take their place. Paloma’s fingers linger on the keys as she turns to look at him, “What’d ya think?”

Javier reaches out, stroking her cheek affectionately. “Increíble, cariño. Can’t imagine how hard it was for you to go through that.” he replies, words laden with sincerity.

A small yet genuine smile paints itself on her face and she shrugs lightly, “It was tough, but I’m a tough girl. Got through it eventually…” she trails off, attention flickering to the keys before meeting his brown eyes again, “And I know I’m bein’ kinda anal about you tellin’ my daddy ‘n stuff but there’s reasonin’ behind it. I wanted you to know that reason. You make me feel all these...things. Things I’ve felt before. Things I’ve lost. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“And it won’t.” He reassures her, tone hushed as to not wake her father.

The lights flicker suddenly and they both look towards the lamp before he’s getting her to look at him again.

“Paloma, those things you feel. I feel them too and I don’t want to fuck ‘em up either. Te quiero a ti (I want you), mi corazón, te necesito (I need you). Like fuckin’ air. It’s ridiculous how spun you’ve got me.”

Paloma’s heart swells at his words, the rawness of them, and she doesn’t give a fuck if her dad was to walk in in this very moment; she lurches forward to kiss him, holding his jaw tenderly.

The power finally gives out, accompanied with a deafening crash of lightning, plunging the room into darkness. The storm outside intensifies, its ferocity underscored by the unrelenting roar of thunder.

They pull back abruptly, but he’s still close enough to brush his nose against the soft skin of her cheek. He needs her so bad.

Paloma’s eyes flutter close at the feel of his warm breath caressing her, a polarizing energy drawing them together and she almost crawls onto his lap.

She hears her father’s voice calling for her and she wishes she hadn’t. Wishes he wasn’t around at all so she could take Javier right here on the fucking piano.

She moves off the bench, flustered completely, shouting down the hall, “We’re gettin’ the lanterns outta the closet to set ‘em up.”

Javier clears his throat, following her down the shadowy hallway until they’re at the closet, watching her rummage through it.

The dim light from the lightning intermittently illuminates her figure, making her movements more sensual than they should be.

When his vision becomes clouded by lust, it’s hard for him to focus on anything that isn’t his subject of affection. That currently being her.

His gaze lingers on her bent over figure, her leggings hugging her curves just right, shirt riding up to expose a slither of skin at her lower back. “No candles?”

“Not safe in a storm like this,” she replies, pulling out a taped up cardboard box. “Don’t want the house goin’ up in flames if the gas lines get hit.”

Turning to look over her shoulder, she smirks when she sees that he’s distracted. “Hey handsome, my eyes are up here.”

“And while your eyes are definitely worth admiring, I’m more intrigued by this ass you got, baby.” He can’t help but deliver a slight spank.

A flush creeps up her cheeks and she gasps his name softly, “Just go put these out by the kitchen and living room, please.”

“Si, jefa.” His grin widens, clearly enjoying her reaction, as he takes the box and heads toward the main rooms, leaving her to handle upstairs.

When Paloma rejoins them in the kitchen, she finds Javier and her father standing by the window, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of the lanterns. They peer out into the storm, watching the rain lash against the windowpane.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had one of these,” she comments.

Romeo, with a small scowl, shakes his head. “Leave it to everyone in town to think this is the work of the devil.”

She snorts at the remark, recognizing the truth in it. A weather anomaly in their small town is enough to stir up wild tales and superstitions. That atop of all the rising tensions and well…

“Yeah, one odd storm, and it’s suddenly the apocalypse,” Javier quips.

She moves to set the table. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to have dinner. In case the end times really are amongst us.”

They sit around the table, their conversation punctuated by the occasional rumble of thunder. As they finish their meal and clean up, her father clears his throat and stretches, glancing out at the downpour with a tired sigh. “I’m turnin’ in for the night,” he announces. 

Paloma and Javier exchange glances, her drying off plates next to her dad and him leaning against the kitchen island, trying not to show how eager they are to be left alone.

“Me too. Probably gonna read a bit before bed. Javier, we’ve set up my old playroom for you to stay in.” His lips twitch at the use of his full first name, and he looks at them both, rubbing his lips together.

“I appreciate you letting me bunker down here.”

“Not a problem. Wouldn’t be surprised if we saw your tin can blowin’ across the yard.” Romeo jokes, drying his hands off then leaning over to pinch at his daughter’s nose affectionately, like he always does. She scrunches her face up in response.

“Night y’all. Javier help yourself to anything.”

He bites back a smirk, the first response to cross his mind being like your daughter? Like the smug bastard that he is. Instead, he gives him a curt nod. “Thank you, goodnight.”

“Night daddy.”

There’s a charged silence as Romeo saunters down the hall, and it’s not until they hear his bedroom door click close that he rounds the counter and walks up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

“Help myself to anything I want. Hm…” he whispers hotly into her ear, one hand moving up to grope her breast, the other toying with the band of her leggings.

She exhales shakily, letting her head fall back against his shoulder and closing her eyes as she enjoys his touch on her body, the way she can feel his erection poking against her ass. “What happened to you not gettin’ hooked?”

He sees the small smirk on her face and he squeezes his grip on her tit, nibbling along her neck. She shudders.

“Shut up.”

Javier spins her around, caging her between him and the counter, dark eyes boring into hers. He goes in for a proper kiss but she stops him, pointer finger pressing against his pursed lips.

He growls her name out and it’s almost drowned out by the wave of thunder that rolls by.

“Meet me in my room in an hour.” She whispers, dropping her hand and spreading her palm against the center of his chest, pushing him back so she’s able to slip away from him.

“Always a tease,” he grumbles, adjusting himself in his sweatpants.

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Paloma walks backwards, blowing him a kiss before disappearing upstairs.

Javier stands on the other side of her door, exactly an hour later as instructed. He rasps his knuckles softly against the wood, and the door opens immediately.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

They share a moment of silence, exchanging a lustful stare before she opens the door wider for him to come in.

“This is a bad idea, bebita. Your dad is just downstairs.” Though the statement dies on his tongue as his eyes rake over her body.

She’s wearing his red checkered flannel, the one he had let her wear the night of the Fourth of July. She hasn’t got anything on under it aside from the only thong she owns, since she isn’t privy to them.

Usually, she would just forgo underwear altogether instead of wearing the uncomfortable scrap of fabric.

But it’s serving its purpose right now.

The flannel doesn’t smell like him anymore since she’d washed it, but she still liked how soft it felt against her skin.

Plus, she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist once he saw her in it.

“Then we’ll have to be quiet.” Her voice drops to a whisper, walking him back until he’s sat at the edge of her bed, Paloma standing between his spread legs and her hands cupping his face.

He swallows hard, his large hands automatically finding her hips, sliding under the flannel to feel the warmth of her skin. “You look incredible.”

Paloma leans in, her lips ghosting over his. “I wore it just for you.”

Javier’s heart races as he feels the heat emanating from her body. He gently tugs her closer, exploring the curve of her waist, the soft swell of her hips, then grabbing her ass. “You’re killing me, princesa.”

She loves hearing that coming from him.

“You gonna be able to stay quiet? Last time we had to be, I had to shut you up myself.” His touch shifts to the back of her thighs, fingers caressing the soft skin there, eyes focused on her and how she reacts to him.

Two lanterns bathe her room in warm light, casting a glow that aids her in her quest to seduce him.

“I think I can manage this time.” She ducks her head to kiss him, not hungrily or passionately, but slowly, savoring the taste of mint that lingers on his tongue.

His lips travel from her mouth to her jawline, and down the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Javi?”

“¿Si, muñeca?”

“I need your help with something.”

“What’s that, baby?”

“Need you to talk me through sucking your dick.”

He pulls back abruptly, blinking rapidly as he processes her words. “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” she juts her lower lip out, “I’ve… well I’ve never done it before and I really, really really want to do it with you.” She sounds desperate but she doesn’t care.

Paloma’s been fantasizing about it for a while now, the desire to do it only growing the more intimate they got. Her mind has been filled with images of him, his reactions, and the way he might look at her with that smoldering gaze of his.

The thought of pleasing him, of having his taste and scent overwhelm her, has her buzzing with a heady mix of excitement and nervousness.

“I’m having a hard time believing that. You’ve got perfect fuckin’ lips,” soft, plump, just begging to have a cock between them.

She giggles, feeling his fingers toying with the thin strap of her thong. “Thank you. I’d like to put ‘em to use if you don’t mind.”

He blows out a breath, trying to keep his composure. “How inexperienced are we talking here?” Javier’s cock is already twitching, knowing that no one has breached this part of her and that he’s the one who gets to do it is making him delirious.

“I know what it is. Given a hand job before but never had one down my throat,” she admits, her cheeks flushed.

He grunts at her wording. “I’ve seen a few dirty flicks where the girl’s done it. I think m’capable, but I wanna know what you like. How you want me to take it.”

“You can’t say things like that and expect me to keep my shit together.”

Another giggle escapes her lips as she slowly moves to her knees, the plush rug cushioning her descent. Her dainty hands come to rest on his muscular thighs, fingers gently kneading the fabric of his gray sweatpants.

He looks irresistibly sexy in his casual attire, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants that do nothing to hide the raw masculinity that has her already dripping wet, eagerly awaiting his instructions.

The look she gives him—those eyes, brimming with lust—makes him wish he had a video camera to capture this moment.

He wants to immortalize the way her lips part slightly, how her breath quickens, the way her hands tremble with enthusiasm.

He wants to be able to replay it over and over again, to remember how she looks up at him from beneath her lashes, her gaze filled with an intensity that sends a jolt of arousal straight to his cock.

“Unbutton the shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits of yours, sweetheart.” 

Her thighs clench, fingers flying to the buttons of the flannel, deftly popping them open to reveal her chest, a shiver skipping over her exposed skin and perking her nipples.

Javier’s eyes darken with hunger as he licks his lips slowly, savoring the sight before him.

He brings his hand up, cupping her left breast, his thumb brushing over her skin in teasing strokes. His calloused touch sends a ripple of pleasure through her, responding with ragged breaths.

Just as she starts to lean into his hand, he pulls away, leaving her yearning for more.

“Now touch me, princesa. Feel how hard you got me.”

This is how she dies, she thinks, with Javier Peña talking her through her first blowjob. Their little erotic phone call had been one experience, and now he is bestowing another one upon her. In the same week.

Maybe she’s already dead.

Her palm glides up and down his length, tracing the hardening outline over the soft fabric of his sweatpants. The sight of her full tits and pebbled nipples enough to get him fully hard.

Paloma leans in, gently lifting the hem of his tee out of the way. She places a delicate kiss just above his waistband, her lips brushing against the warm skin of his lower abdomen and her nose scrunching as the dark trail of hair tickles her.

Her hand continues its rhythmic motion, eliciting a slow, deep exhale from him— unspoken encouragement to keep going.

“So big,” she murmurs, “don’t know how I’m goin’ to fit it all in my mouth.” Her tongue darts out, teasingly licking around his belly button, causing his stomach to tighten in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, muñeca,” he coos, “We’ll make it fit.”

With starry eyes, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of his bottoms, slowly dragging them down. He lifts his hips to help her, the fabric sliding off and pooling around his ankles.

His cock springs free, resting heavily against his pelvis.

Her eyes widen, mouth watering.

She’s felt his impressive size, but seeing it so closely in the flesh sends thudding pressure to her clit, blood rushing with a desperate need to please him.

He’s thick and perfectly sized with an enticing curve that has her tongue moving involuntarily in her mouth. The skin is a shade lighter than the rest of him, currently flushed a deep, heated red, the smooth head throbbing and glistening with precum dripping from the slit.

“Damn, Javi,” she purrs, a content hum vibrating through her chest. “Every part of you is handsome.” It makes her heart race, and she can feel heat licking at her labia, eager to show him just how much she aches for him.

He exhales through his nose, stroking her hair and gently urging her forward. “Give it a kiss, bebita.”

“Where?”

“Donde tú quieras.”

She sucks her teeth, contemplating how she wants to do this. The soft lighting of the room and the flashes of silver from the lightning outside accentuate every ridge and curve of his cock—making it look so yummy.

Javi can feel her warm breath fanning over him, then the blissful wetness of her plump lips as she presses them against the blazing skin of his base. Her tongue follows, tracing the path of a thick vein with deliberate slowness.

He curses under his breath, biting down on his tongue to stifle any involuntary noises, but fuck, it feels good.

Her tongue traces the protruding vein all the way to the top, circling around the head, mimicking what she’s seen in the pornos. More precum leaks from his slit, and she laps at it thirstily, welcoming the peculiar flavor. The salty tang mingles with the taste of his skin, driving her fucking crazy.

“It doesn’t look like I have to teach you much, chiquita, you’re doing an amazing fuckin’ job so far.” Javier praises, continuing to stroke her hair with a satisfied, wolfish grin playing at his lips.

“Really?” She seeks his approval like a drowning woman seeking air.

“Of course. Always so good for me.” His dark eyes gleam with ardor, “Now get it wet, baby, so it can slip in your mouth easily.”

Obedient as ever and fueled by his praise, her tongue moves with sinful precision, eyes fluttering close as she focuses on licking every inch, using her lips to press open mouthed kisses all over.

More saliva gathers in her mouth, and she deliberately lets a thick, glistening strand fall from her lips, dribbling over the sensitive tip and trailing slowly down the full length of him.

Paloma’s hand comes up, fingers wrapping around his dick with a teasing grip. Her movements are slow, pumping him gently.

“Your nails look so sexy wrapped around my cock like this baby holy fuck,” Javier can’t help but compliment as she squeezes him, clenching his jaw. “That’s right, así mero princesa, shit.” He grunts, the hand that had been tenderly stroking her hair now tangles into her long, silken strands, fingers gripping and gently tugging, a primal response to her actions.

He mentioned a long time ago how much he loved it when a woman had a fresh manicure, and Paloma, ever wanting to get his attention, has not missed a single appointment with her manicurist since.

“Got ‘em done just for you,” she coos, winking up at him and leaning forward to purse her lips, slapping his fat head against them.

“Gettin’ yourself all done up for me? Mi muñequita so eager to please. Go ahead and put me in your mouth. Wanna see those pretty lips around my cock.”

She can feel her slick dampening her panties, wanting nothing more than to make him feel good. Show up any other woman he’s ever taken to bed.

Holding him steady at the base, she parts her lips and slowly envelops his cock in her hot mouth.

The heavy, pulsing weight of him pressing down on her tongue amplifies her craving for more. His slick, warm flesh, generously coated in her spit, has him sliding effortlessly into her mouth.

Javier brings his fist up to bite into it, letting out a choked groan.

The weather continues its tyranny outdoors and he’s fucking grateful that it’s loud enough to cover the sounds of pleasure she’s pulling from him. “Take it slow, baby, open your jaw a little more.”

She listens, lowering her chin and taking him deeper into her mouth. The blunt tip grazes the back of her throat, causing her to gag and she pulls back, struggling to catch her breath.

The feeling is overwhelming, yet exhilarating.

“¿Todo bien, nena?” he asks in a low, gravelly murmur, eyelids heavy as he watches her.

The fingers previously tangled in her hair now brush away the few stray strands that have fallen forward behind her ear.

She responds with a breathy hum of affirmation, determined to push him further down her throat. But her eagerness causes her to overestimate her capacity, resulting in a sputtering mess as she chokes and coughs, droplets of her saliva splattering over him.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he soothes, his thumb gently swiping at the spit on her lower lip. “Take it easy. S’not a race.” The tender gesture only heightens her arousal.

“I jus’ wanna make you feel good, Javi,” she replies, voice hoarse from the strain of her attempt at deep throating.

“Trust me, you’re doing just fine. Here, let me help.” His hand moves to the nape of her neck, carefully guiding her closer. 

He slowly breaches her mouth with his cock again, slipping in and out in a gentle rhythm. He helps her find a steady pace, his care and control transforming the act into more of an intimate experience.

“Atta girl, just like that. Tan hermosa,” he murmurs, admiring the view of her flushed face. “Think you can handle it all on your own now?”

She responds with a soft nod, the subtle move has her teeth just barely grazing his throbbing cock and it makes him shudder, jaw going slack.

More confident and her jaw worked open more, Paloma hollows her cheeks and blows him with keenness.

Her hands join in, one cradling his balls while the other wraps around his dick, stroking him in time with her mouth.

She looks up at him through her wet lashes, a loving glint twinkling in her eyes.

Javier curses under his breath, head lolling back and eyes fluttering close as her mouth and tongue work together to tread the fine fucking line of his orgasm. 

She takes him deeper, her swollen lips stretching around his cock while her jaw aches from accommodating him.

He gathers her hair into a loose ponytail with his fist, hips starting to move in tandem with her mouth. “Just like that, palomita.”

She’s got the hang of it now, able to take him all in, nose brushing against the tuft of hair at his base that’s damp with the saliva from her ministrations. 

The storm rages outside, but here, in this moment, all he can focus on is the exquisite torment of her mouth tightening the coil at the base of his spine.

Paloma stills, swallowing around his length and he praises her in a hushed whisper.

Javi gently strokes her cheek with his fingertips, his touch tender and reassuring, the contrast of his soft caress with the way she’s got him down her throat making her heart do jumping jacks.

She struggles to breathe but she doesn’t really give a fuck. The intense thrill of his reactions has her losing herself completely, thighs tensing together.

Her thong, now drenched with her own excited mess, sticks to her pussy; reminding her of how hot and bothered she is from just blowing him.

Between her tight throat, swirling tongue, and pretty gags, Javier has to pull her off of him before he spills his load down her throat.

Gasping for air, her eyes are glazed with tears of both pleasure and strain.

She looks up at him again with an expression so intoxicating—he nearly paints her face at the sight. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nada, cariño. I’d just like to fuck your pussy and not come down your throat tonight.” Some other time, for sure.

“I take it as I did a good job?”

“Best I’ve ever had.”

Paloma’s lips curl into a triumphant smirk, brown eyes glowing with satisfaction at his praise. She licks her lips, savoring the lingering taste of him as she leans in, pressing a final kiss on the sensitive tip of his cock with the electrifying touch of her lips.

Slowly, she rises from her knees, her movements fluid and deliberately sensual. She trails heated, open-mouthed kisses up his torso, each touch igniting a feverish path on his skin.

As she moves, she pulls his shirt up along with her, her soft breasts brushing against his firm stomach.

He reacts quickly, shedding the shirt and tossing it aside.

Their lips finally meet in a fervent kiss. It’s messy and passionate—they’re drunk off each other.

“How do you want me?” Paloma asks in a sultry whisper.

“Face down, ass up,” he grunts, pushing the flannel off her shoulders, eager to feel more of her bare skin beneath his touch.

She positions herself on the bed, her face nuzzling against the soft mountain of pillows, arms stretched out in front of her.

The recently fixed headboard offers a silent promise; no noise will give them away, and they won’t have to worry about getting caught.

That’s the last thing they need.

Whether they’re able to keep quiet themselves is an entirely different thing.

Javier, now fully nude, strokes his cock slowly, savoring the sight before him. Her plump ass is on full display, tantalizingly framed by the thin, barely-there panties.

He grunts with satisfaction, his gaze hungrily devouring the view of her pretty pussy, ready for him to take.

As he closes the distance between them, he kneads her ass cheeks firmly, the smoothness of her skin and the way she molds to his touch triggering a searing lust in him. 

Every fantasy he’d ever had about her in this position is now a vivid, thrilling reality. He’s intent on taking full advantage of this, to make her his in every sense. 

“Don’t know if I can trust you to stay quiet,” he murmurs as he slowly pulls down her underwear, a string of her slick sticking to it, making the sight so fucking erotic.

Paloma can’t help but sway her hips, enticing him further, as she lays bare on the mattress. “I will be, honey, I promise.” She turns her head to try and get a better look at him, cheek resting on the cushion.

“Can’t take that risk. Not tonight.” The bed dips when he positions himself behind her, and his broad frame bends over hers, chest to her back, wet cock brushing up against the skin of her ass. “Abre,” he commands lowly into her ear and she whimpers, parting her lips.

Her eyes go wide with surprise and her pulsating sex drools when he shoves her damp, ruined panties into her mouth. The fabric is cool against her tongue, tinged with her own tangy scent, and she can taste the remnants of her arousal.

Her moan is swallowed by the material, muffled and contained, amplifying the sensation of helpless pleasure that floods her senses.

“Calladita te ves más bonita (you look prettier with your mouth shut),” he taunts, placing a kiss to her cheek, bristling mustache dragging at her shoulder, until he straightens up and takes his cock into his hand again, slowly rubbing it along her slit and spreading their mess all over her cunt.

Paloma clenches around nothing in anticipation, arching her back and spreading her knees a little more to give him the perfect angle to rut into her. 

He sinks into her pussy slowly, growling expletives under his breath at how fucking amazing she feels positioned like this. Her tight, wet heat wrapping around him as he splits her open on his girth. “Sucking me in so well, amor, just like that fucking mouth of yours.”

Every sound of ecstasy gets lost on the now wet cloth as drool pools from her lips, brain absolutely melting once he’s balls deep inside of her, the weight of them pressed up against her clit.

All she can think and feel is him. He doesn’t give her a moment to adjust, pulling out until only his fat head is inside before roughly snapping his hips against hers.

The pace he sets is deliciously brutal, tears sting at her eyes as he presses up against that spot inside her that makes more juices drip out of her pussy and slather all over his dick.

Javier is completely entranced, watching as her cunt stretches open for him each time he rolls his hips, spitting his cock out, covered in her creamy arousal.

He spreads her cheeks to get the best view possible, biting his lip harshly and digging his fingertips into her skin.

The thunderstorm doesn’t let up, perfectly masking the filthy sounds of their fucking. “Feels fucking amazing baby, shit, can feel you clenching around me. Love being gagged, don’t you?” He can’t help himself, moving his hands so one hand tangles itself in her long hair, pulling at it so she’s on all fours now while the other grabs onto her hip.

Like a doll, she lets him move her however the hell he wants. Her arms tremble as she holds herself up, her scalp burning from his firm grip, each tug cascading waves of blissful electricity all over, starting at her toes.

Sex with Javier is unlike anything she’s ever experienced—raw, fiery, and profoundly exhilarating.

As he moves, her body dances to his rhythm, each motion perfectly synchronized with his. The soft flesh of her ass jiggles enticingly with each thrust, the twin dimples at the base of her spine deepening and winking at him.

Beads of sweat glisten on her golden skin, trailing seductively down the arch of her spine. He leans closer, his tongue darting out to lap at a single drop of perspiration, savoring the salty sweetness.

Paloma keens, bringing one hand back to dig her nails into his wrist as he fucks her like those stars in the dirty flicks.

Javier moves quickly, pinning both of her wrists at the base of her spine, her face falling flat on the pillows and further making it hard for her to breathe. She loves it, loves the way he’s manhandling her.

His balls tighten, as does the grip on her wrists.

He’s right at the edge of his precipice. But he can’t let go just yet—not without getting her off first. “So proud of you for taking this cock so well, muñeca. C’mon, baby, come all over it. I can feel how close you are. She’s grippin’ me so tight. Doesn’t want me to leave.”

Paloma squeezes her eyes shut, concentrating on the relentless way he fucks into her. Her walls convulse around his shaft, each stroke lighting up every nerve in her body.

He’s filling her to the brim, burying every bit of his soul and essence into her pussy.

It’s a raw and intimate exchange, a way he opens up and surrenders himself to her.

She sings, he fucks. He’s finding a healthier way to fuck his feelings into his woman without the devastating angst.

Unlike before, where passion was tangled with pain and regret, he now seeks a more fulfilling release.

Javier finds solace in their sex.

A stark white flash of lightning illuminates the room, casting fleeting shadows over their intertwined bodies, followed by the familiar, rolling rumble of thunder. The storm outside mirrors the tempestuous passion in her bedroom.

Thank-fucking-God her daddy was a heavy sleeper.

He yanks her up, pressing his chest flush against her back and trapping her wrists between them, the heat of their bodies melding them together.

One arm snakes around to grab her bouncing tit, his fingers kneading the soft flesh, while his other slips down to her clit, alternating between softly pinching and rubbing circles against the sticky, sensitive flesh.

“When I pull the panties out your mouth, I want you to moan my name. You understand?” he whispers hotly into her ear. At first, she’s too lost in the pleasure he’s bringing her to fully grasp his words, mind clouded with nothing but Javier Peña.

He delivers a particularly harsh thrust, making her gasp and snapping her eyes open––bringing her back to the present.

Repeating himself in a throaty and commanding voice, she nods faintly, understanding now, her body quivering.

After a few more intensely euphoric moments, another strike splits the sky. Javier hastily removes the gag from her mouth, his fingers brushing her lips. “Give it to me, Paloma,” He grits through his teeth.

And she does. The crack of the lightning and the storm’s thunder roar loudly, shaking the house, her primal cry of bliss drowned out by the heavy noise.

“Javi!” her jaw falls open, walls contracting tightly around his dick, milking him as her climax crashes into her.

The sensation is so much, she nearly blacks out, her vision swimming in a haze of pleasure. Paloma’s body tenses, and that’s all it takes for him to follow suit.

Javier tightens his grip on her, his fingers pulling at her nipple as his own orgasm hits.

His cock twitches, releasing his hot seed deep inside her, filling her up completely. He grunts against her neck, his breath ragged, teeth finding and sinking into her damp skin.

He kisses her sloppily, leaving a trail of wetness from his tongue as he marks her, claiming her in their shared moment of fucking paradise.

They stay like that for a few moments, bodies entwined, hearts pounding in sync, as they come down from their respective highs.

“M’never, ever, ever gonna get tired of that,” she pants out with a satisfied grin, tilting her head to pepper kisses along the side of his head as his lips continue to press against her neck.

“You and me both, princesa.” Their lips meet in a lazy kiss, both of them smiling into it. His hold on her loosens, now cradling her affectionately, and she melts into his embrace.

“Lay with me, Javi, please?” she whispers, running the tip of her nose along his cheek, giggling softly as his mustache tickles her skin.

He nods, momentarily forgetting where they were and the implications of what would unravel if the man downstairs decided to come up and check on them. “Okay.”

They untangle and she isn’t bothered by the way their mixed release seeps out of her, smearing all over her folds. She’ll shower it off in the morning.

They move beneath the sheets of her bed, settling against her pillows and the many stuffed animals she owns. “Damn, how many of these shits do you have?” Javier asks, holding a tattered bunny in his hand that she takes from him and tenderly caresses.

“Hey, don’t be rude. Mr. Bubbles was my very first best friend and a very important member of the family.”

Javier snorts, and she shoots him a playful glare, carefully placing her beloved plush on her bedside table. He shuffles as she leans against the headboard, his head resting on her stomach while her fingers play in his hair.

The rhythmic pattering of the rain is comforting now, the warm lights in her bedroom embracing this moment with a soft glow.

It’s quiet for a few moments, his lips placing tender kisses all over her soft skin. When he reaches the scar on her hip, he can’t help but bring his curious fingers up to gently trace it, the question hanging on the tip of his tongue.

“How’d you get this?”

Paloma takes a deep breath, her fingers still entertaining themselves in his curls. “I got it when I was thirteen,” she begins softly, “I used to love climbin’ this big tree we had in our backyard. I’d always go as high as I could, ‘n once I reached the top, I swore I could see the whole world from up there. It was beautiful, you know? The view, the feelin’ of being so free and above everythin’.”

She pauses, a small smile tugging at her lips as she remembers the exhilaration of those childhood climbs. “But one day, I saw somethin’ out in the distance—a shadowed figure. It made me feel… uneasy. I’d dreamt of somethin’ like it before, so seein’ it in person… it instilled this fear into me. Felt like a bad omen.”

Paloma shivers slightly at the recollection, and Javier’s hold tightens around her in silent support. “Somehow, I lost my footin’. Slipped off the branch and tumbled down the tree. The fall was chaotic as hell. One of the sharp branches nicked me and cut up my side. It was real deep, felt like I was gonna die.”

It was a miracle she didn’t break a bone or snap her neck. “I smacked the ground hard, it knocked the wind right outta me. I remember jus’ layin’ there, unable to breathe, and seein’ the blood. It was everywhere. The pain was so intense, and it took almost ten minutes of pure agony ‘fore I could use my lungs again. I started screamin’ like a banshee and my parents rushed out, absolutely frantic.”

The tip of his nose grazes the mark, his lips following suit, showering it with tender kisses. Her skin prickles with goosebumps as her fingertips gently scratch at his scalp.

“They rushed me into town to see Dr. Hughes. She stitched me up and told me I was lucky it wasn’t worse. Daddy and a few of his lumberjack buddies cut the tree down the next day. I was so sad.”

“Bet you didn’t climb more trees after that.” He smirks up at her and she snorts softly.

“I did, I was jus’ more careful.”

Javier’s affections trail upward from her stomach to her sternum, then to her neck, and she sighs happily.

The feel of his body between her legs, flaccid cock pressed up against her sore pussy, cradled in her arms, is a high she’s going to spend the rest of her life chasing.

They kiss and kiss until her lips are blue and his lungs beg for oxygen, exchanging tender touches.

His hand finds its familiar place around her neck but doesn’t apply any real pressure, thumb gently brushing against the column of her throat.

She revels in the feel of him.

Her dainty hands roam over his muscular back, broad shoulders, and toned triceps, exploring every inch they can reach. Each touch feels like a declaration of their mutual addiction.

The way they fit together, both physically and emotionally, is intoxicating.

She can feel his love in every movement, every kiss, and every gentle brush of his thumb.

This is their sanctuary, a moment where they can express their deepest emotions without fear.

“I could stay here all night.”

“Why limit yourself to all night? Why not forever?”

He groans out in satisfaction, nipping at her chin, needing his lips on some part of her at all times.

“As much as I’d love to pretend like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I have to go back across the hall.”

“You don’t have to do anythin’. Said it was a bad idea to mess ‘round while my daddy’s downstairs but that didn’t stop you from fuckin’ me.”

She can’t even take the expression he flashes her seriously, not with his hair sticking up in odd places and that fucked out glaze over his brown eyes.

“Just leave early in the morning. Or at least wait until I fall asleep.” And out of spite, she’s tempted to stay up all night just to keep him in her bed.

“Fine. Until you fall asleep.” He kisses her on the lips, moving from between her legs until he’s settled behind her, scooping her into his arms. Her head rests on his chest, one leg hitched over his, and her palm sprawled against his stomach.

He trails his fingers up and down the length of her spine, the other hand stroking the thigh draped over his hip. He nuzzles his nose against the crown of her hair and inhales deeply.

Her scent is not only an aphrodisiac but also incredibly calming.

She feels the accelerated pounding of his heart and before she can ask what’s wrong, his tongue loosens.

“I had this partner in Colombia. Steve Murphy. The most American American you’ll ever meet.” A small smile forms on his face as he reminisces, “Didn’t speak a lick of Spanish but still managed to help me get shit done. We went through the fuckin’ trenches together down there and I put him through the wringer so many goddamn times. I was such an asshole.”

“Was?” She can’t help but quip, kissing up on his chest. Javier slaps at her thigh.

She can tell he holds fondness for this man and she wonders why he’s just now bringing him up. Regardless, she enjoys hearing about his time in the DEA, despite how dark it can get.

He was a completely different man with baggage she can’t even begin to fathom.

“We found a baby girl in her house one day. Her mother and the rest of her family had been shot up by some of Escobar’s men. They were about to kill her when we showed up.”

The conversation takes a turn, and Paloma lifts her head to meet his gaze, but he looks relatively calm as he goes on with the story.

“We chased those bastards all over the neighborhood. Right as I got the upper hand on one, a kid no older than ten cornered me with a fucking pistol.” Her eyes widen, and she brings her fingers up to touch his cheek.

“‘Course I wasn’t going to shoot a fucking kid. They both ran off. Murphy and his wife, Connie, ended up adopting the girl. Olivia, they named her.”

“Olivia’s a beautiful name.”

“She’s precious.”

The context of his past has jaded such a good man, molding him into a cynic over the years. No wonder he struggles to be vulnerable.

His eyes, though calm, reveal a depth of pain and reflection, the memories of those days etched into his soul.

“I think they’d like you.” He turns his head to kiss her palm, nuzzling against it as she cradles his face.

“Well maybe I’ll get to meet ‘em one day. Your pops, too.”

“Oh I know he’d love you. Just knowing how you tend to the house and yard is gonna have him wanting to steal you from me.” Javier playfully nips at her fingertips, those golden flecks she loves to see in his eyes returning.

“If he’s anything like you, then you’re in trouble, cowboy.” 

She’s tickled by the hairs of his mustache and accidentally lets a loud laugh slip, causing him to grip her jaw gently as he shushes her. “Shhh, baby…” His thumb is at her bottom lip, “Gonna get us caught.”

“Tell that to your ‘stache, sir. S’always ticklin’ me.” Paloma bites down on his thumb playfully and he lean in to kiss her for the millionth time.

They indulge in more pillow talk until eventually she’s just humming in response, half asleep, her body going limp against his and her breath leveling out.

Exhaustion tugs at him, the weather lulling him into an almost serene state. Watching her sleep in his arms, her already soft features look even more angelic.

Her long lashes rest delicately against her cheeks, and the rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic, reminding him that she’s real and here for him.

Javier doesn’t want to leave even though he knows he must. He doesn’t want to rob himself of this moment—of how, for the first time in a long time, he’s able to cradle something in his hands and not break it.

Her presence is a soothing balm to the wounds of his past, and he wants to savor every second of this newfound peace.

But as he holds her, the rhythmic patter of rain against the window and the rumble of thunder weave a lullaby that’s impossible to resist. His resolve falters and his eyelids grow heavy.

He takes in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body pressed against his, and the feeling of absolute contentment that she brings.

It’s a sensation he convinced himself he wasn’t worthy of experiencing, so having it now fills him with a profound sense of gratitude.

Despite his best efforts to stay awake and to tell himself to get up, he eventually succumbs to the exhaustion, his head resting gently on hers. His arms tighten around her protectively, even in sleep, as if to ensure she remains safe and close.

The storm rages on outside, never letting up despite the tranquil note in which their night ends.

[pixelkip]

Hey u wanna see how hard I can ramble about homestuck classpects AND hazy river character analysis at the same time?? Too bad!! You will!!

SO holy fuck I've been trying to come up with homestuck classpects for Annie and garcello for the LONGEST time and Annie has ALWAYS been a problem area for me cause of her lack of real story and canon characterization

Garcello imo is a rogue of doom, the rogue class steals their aspect for the betterment of others and well.... "stealing doom" in a way for someone else's benefit is literally exactly what he does in seos!! And the description of a doom player's personality really does fit him!! Easy right?

But then Annie. Oh my fucking gog

She has almost 0 canon dialogue and little to no story. The only instances of her even talking were the butter comic and snowed in. We might have some backstory shit that's been shared around before and Drowning of course but other than that she doesn't have much of a real storyline.

I've discussed this on discord and a lot of ideas were thrown around like maybe void, for her aspect, which does fit in a meta sense considering all beyond-surface-level characterization for her is pretty hard to find or completely unknown, and I've thought about either time or hope or rage being her aspect based on personality descriptions and her weaponizing rage in her liquid form but none seemed to really fit perfectly for her, especially when trying to pick a class.

(Before you bring up seos with lyrics as much as I ADORE how Annie is acted in it holy fuck dude it still gives me chills it is not canon)

Then it fucking hit me. Hope is literally perfect in a meta sense (and I'm operating on homestuck logic so I'm allowed to do that hehehhehe)

How we perceive Annie as a character is based a ton on fanon. Ideas like her having self esteem issues, for example, were extrapolated by fandom because of Good Enough being her first song. The butter comic, the first of only 2 times she's spoken in any official capacity, came from THE FANDOM MAKING SHIT UP and then anne making a comic based on it. Other bits of characterization from discord were gleaned from THE FANDOM ACTIVELY WANTING IT.

The hope aspect in homestuck is strongly connected with believing in something so hard it becomes real. This is seen with Jake's creation of brain ghost dirk, and eridan making a plain ass wand and then believing it's some powerful God weapon, and then it actually being powerful

Do. Do you see what I'm getting at here. Her whole character is heavily based in what we think it is based on what little we have. If that doesn't make her being a hope player fucking perfect i don't know what does.

As for class tho I'm a little bit stumped. I'm feeling like maybe witch since the 2 most prominent witches in homestuck do remind me a lot of her, personality-wise. They're also characters who have a particularly strong connection with the magic and power their classpect gives them. Jade's been experiencing the weird magicy shit that relates to her role within sburb and homestuck's narrative her whole life. Feferi's biggest move as the witch of life is very personal to her, talking to the horrorterrors to create the dream bubbles was only possible cause of her existing connection to a similar creature, being her lusus.

And annies liquid, while already being just a badass magical tool by itself, feels an awful lot like an extension of her energetic, over-the-top personality. Just more violent. The fact it canonically makes her more animalistic and instinctual just carries on her existing animal theming.

Also hope has a lotta religious theming and Annie has been connected with imagery of devil horns a LOT. Just thought that was neat.

Annieway tldr after over a year of thinking about this and having an epiphany watching a laureledeevees video about Jake English and lots of wiki and extended zodiac reading.. Garcello is a rogue of doom and Annie is a witch of hope

Disclaimer I am not the best at classpecting ik to people ho do this a lot I probably interpreted some stuff weirdly please don't murder me sjgjkdjgkdjf

[the-golden-ghost]

spamton for the blorbo blingus ? or jevil whoever you prefer

APOLOGIES FOR TAKING LIKE A WEEK TO DO THIS turns out transcribing is Difficult. Putting the original meme at the bottom for reference.

Also, picking Spamton cause someone else asked about Jevil!

His Shitfucked Priorities:

Food: 4/5 due to food insecurity. He rarely lets on about it though

Sleep: 1/5 he doesn't do this

Sex: 3/5 I mean he's definitely horny but I think his desire to SELL sex is probably higher than his actual sex drive

Pals: 0/5 friends?who needs 'em

Love: He'll SAY it's 0/5 again but it's actually like 4/5

War: 10/5

Kill: 11/5 how do you do capital numbers

Crying: 10/5

Minecraft Skills:

(Disclaimer: I've never mined a craft and I don't know anything about it other than there's blocks and Endermen)

Well he definitely Grinds, Mods, and has Bad Internet. Idk what a cracked account is but it sounds like him

PVP: 4/5

PVE: 1/5

Redstone: 5/5

Building: 0/5

Parkour: 1/5

Speedrunning: 2/5

Fun Facts:

His animal crossing personality: Cranky

Number of Animatics In My Head For Them: None because I can't find any Spamton Songs :( I don't listen to the right kinds of music

Hours Sleep They Get Daily: He gets two. A week

Kill Count: I want to be funny and say it's high but actually I think it's more fitting for it to be low. Not cause he's NOT the murder type but because he's so ineffective and irrelevant to the narrative. Even in Snowgrave we would have done all that even if he weren't there, he TRIED to be relevant and an Evil Mass Murderer but he wasn't really. He's just a pathetic little puppet!

This v That

Hot v Lukewarm: Oh he THINKS he's hot shit but he's the most lukewarm bowl of tap water you've ever laid eyes upon

Sunshine v Moon: Sunshine of course :) his motif

Distant v In Your Face: If he's NOT in your face every second of every day assume he's dead

Crewmate v Imposter: Imposter but not very well

Edible v Poisonous: If you so much as get a whiff of him you will Die

Gamer v Old Man: The oldest

Lives in a Tree v Money Bags: Okay again he will tell you he's loaded but he lives in the trash in canon so

Fruit v Meaty: Meat. Rancid though

Intelligent v Braindead: He THINKS he's people-smart (he's not) but he does have survival skills, admittedly

Saltine v Ghost Pepper: Ghost pepper and he'll harm you

The Checkmarks:

Puppet

Nagging Fears

Dead

No Parents

Hated By All

Haunted

NEEDS therapy

Will never get therapy

20 exes

Marketable

Broken beyond repair

Kills to survive AND thrive!

[chuchupurin]

i am now more awake! here's my playlist: cdpndnt

if you wanna know more about the playlist structure, inspiration for this, song choices, etc., click "keep reading"!!

short disclaimer:

i don't condone these types of relationships. this is just a creative exploration on obsession and how overdependence can make a seemingly romantic relationship harmful to the parties involved.

about the inspiration for this:

i took a peek at a few of the public playlists on spotify about obsessive love, codependency, yanderes, etc. and they're good, but none of them really fit my vision, or more specifically the execution i wanted.

i felt like there was such a huge focus on an omniscient or third-party perspective for these types of narratives, meaning to say we're presented with a cut-and-dry horror story on the dangers of obsessive love. the narrative knows that there's an audience and a story to be played for the audience, so it establishes an ost that leaves little room for vagueness. fast and intense songs are played for scenes featuring the protagonist's more violent acts, songs about terrible parents and a traumatic childhood establish the protagonist's backstory, and their obsessive tendencies are highlighted through songs that are irrefutably creepy and unromantic.

but if you think about it, an obsessively infatuated person doesn't really see things as a horror story. for them, it's more of a love story. and i wanted to make a playlist that reflects this kind of unreliable narration.

about the song choices + song order:

most of the songs (save for track #3) were intended by the original lyricist to be romantic. but as you'll notice, a lot of them can be perceived as unsettling if presented in a different context.

i placed songs that are relatively creepier lower down in the playlist so that we get a slow musical shift from "arguably romantic" to "arguably unsettling."

unhealthy relationships with codependent tendencies tend to seesaw between comfort and violence, which is part of the reason why a lot of people have trouble identifying if a dynamic or a partner is genuinely bad for them. i tried to communicate this with the song order by inserting songs that are hard to argue as healthy in between songs that can very easily be argued as merely romantic. it's intended to create an unsettling feeling, one where you're not sure if the next song is going to be uncomfortable and which songs are supposed to be the bad ones. or worse: if all of the songs are meant to be disconcerting. tl;dr: the song order matters so play the playlist in custom order, no shuffle! (let me know if you can't play it in custom order, i'll give an alternative link to a youtube version)

i love playlists with a specific theme and i love making playlists with a specific theme and when i'm a little more awake i will share the new playlist i made here

[paperlovesadness]

Ah... I feel a bit strange doing this. Might just stay in the drafts forever. We'll see. But my hands itch to do it every single time I listen to the song so... So here's a lyric analysis of "Star Treatment" and how... it might?... be? A song... About... Miles Kane?? Maybe??? 🫣 (no executions please. I'm really not trying to push this narrative. These things just kind of jumped out at me & I felt an urge to write it down somewhere. And perhaps see if anyone agrees? Comments encouraged! If anyone ever stumbles upon this silly thing) This will get long... Cause that's who I am. And also it references other songs.

Disclaimer 1: I did see someone attempt this on reddit. It was a bit out there though... And maybe ironic? I do share a thought or two with them though.

Disclaimer 2, an Important one: this does rely on an implication that there was something more between the two sometime around/ between 2015-2017ish? I don't want to put any labels and try to stay away from any too specific guesses. But well, I suppose I do kind of personally believe there was something there. If you're not a fan of theories about private lives of real people... I'm sorry. This one's not for you. I really do try to do it as respectfully as possible though. At the end of the day - it's just a theory. And not a mean one. I understand it's all just something that fits together in my head and may be very far from any truth. Disclaimer 3: I know this album is a concept album centered around characters. But I'm analyzing the second, potential autobiogrophical hidden layer beneath the obvious first meaning

Okay, let us have a whack at it now:

I just wanted to be one of The Strokes Now look at the mess you made me make Hitchhiking with a monogrammed suitcase Miles away from any half-useful imaginary highway

This one is very on the nose. But quite literally sneaking in his name in the lyrics -- maybe? we know Alex loves playing with many meanings/hidden messages & double entendres. + the being away from any half-useful imaginary highway makes me think of when he spoke about the fact that he couldn't write any more love-related matarial after EYCTE. And someone encouraged him to just go a different route. That's how TBHC was born. But also implies some trouble in the love-related ascpects of his life around the time. Could've just been trouble around Taylor - who he broke up with soon after the album's release. There's theories about how that happened [current girlfriend invloved] - but maybe there was even more confusion & heartbreak in the mix (ending a tour with someone with whom the lovey-dovey jokes may have gone a bit too far/serious?)

I'm a big name in deep space, ask your mates But golden boy's in bad shape

this is just implying any sort of broken-heartedness.

I found out the hard way that Here ain't no place for dolls like you and me Everybody's on a barge Floating down the endless stream of great TV 1984, 2019

dolls = puppets. And how the industry / society isn't a good place for relationships like this. (People wouldn't understand the type of bond they share?)

Maybe I was a little too wild in the '70s Rocket-ship grease down the cracks of my knuckles Karate bandana, warp speed chic Hair down to there, impressive moustache

Miles and Alex have spoken many times about how their first album was heavily 60s inspired - Scott Walker, The Beatles, 60s Morricone.

What may be less obvious and spoken about is how EYCTE was sort of meant to take their work into the 70s. He spoke about it in an interview when asked about the album cover. It's a 1969 photo of Tina Turner - which Alex commented on by saying: "The idea was to move the artwork on from the ’60s feel of the first Last Shadow Puppets album artwork, so here is Tina on the very cusp of the 1970s" (They also chose to sing covers like Moonage Daydream and Is This What You Wanted during that tour. Both 70s songs from artists that defined the era). So this could be him reflecting on the EYCTE era and how things may have gotten a bit too far during the time. Going in to deep, crossing some boundries and definitions?

Love came in a bottle with a twist-off cap Let's all have a swig and do a hot lap

alcohol? pills? alcohol & or drugs clouding some judgement/helping loosen up and causing the crossing of certain [friendship] boundries?

So who you gonna call? The Martini Police Baby, that isn't how they look tonight, oh no It took the light forever to get to your eyes

It's not a particularly meaningful line in terms of this narrative - but I wanted to talk about it because I find it so beautiful but also so fuck*ng sad. Like - one of he saddest lines I've read. It just hit me in the heart straight away when I heard it. I feel like my personal interpretation is dead wrong. But still choose to see it that way. I also know of the story of how it's inspired by Alex's dad telling him about how we see the light of the stars the way it was in the past bc of how long it takes to reach us. The way I hear this line though is: seeing the bottomless sadness in the eyes of someone who had their heart broken. Someone whose eyes used to be full of happiness - and now it takes forever for any touch of happiness to show up in their gaze. Now a possible interpratation for a second meaning to this whole section could be: calling the martini police = grabbing a drink to help with hearbreak, when there's no other solutions left. Miles has sang in his breakup album Coup de Grace about how he drowned the sadness after hearbreak in alcohol and pills. Mixing stuff together like a mad scientist etc. (Also if you ever saw the interview he did with [the one and only] Martin on his CDG album... Oof... Yeah. There was no light in that man's eyes. Even Martin saw that pain and commented on it. It's a tough one to watch)

I just wanted to be one of those ghosts You thought that you could forget And then I haunt you via the rear view mirror On a long drive from the back seat

This is one of these sections that hits me the most. Cause to me it can be seens as: Alex being aware of how much pain he caused - all he could wish is that he was just another lover whom the hearbroken person [Miles?] could forget. But alas - he still haunts him. Here it gets interesting (or batshit crazy. Cause I might be). Beacause the use of "ghost" just absolutely sends me to Miles' song "Shavambacu" - where he describes the eyes/thoughts of an ex lover still being focused on him after the breakup (this song though could have a whole seperate post of it's own) While "haunting via a rear view mirror" made me jump up and recall lyrics from Miles' song "Dont let it get you down". I saw your reflection, in The backseat of a Chevrolet from Hollywood to East LA NOW - don't shout at me. I know timelines are important. Because Shavambacu and Star Treatment came out around a similar time period. But Shavambacu came out a little bit later. While DLIGYD came out completely after all of hits - this year. So first off - I'm considering the fact that Miles and Alex are clearly still friends and in contact. So could have shown each other songs earlier. But more plausible theory: if these songs are perhaps maybe inspired by one another - they clearly are gonna recall events and/or inside lingo and jokes they both used. Possible situation: post Miles-Alex hearbreak Miles stumbled upon Alex going somewhere in a car. They spotted each other. this also makes me recall the whole:

Swear I saw you smile You try to hide it well 3:15 on the wrong side Columbia Street line from "Killing the Joke". Which many think references the area that Alex lives in. They lived a few minutes away from each other around 2016-2017. So would obviously run into one another often. Even if they were going through something and taking a break/trying not to.

But it's alright, 'cause you love me And you recognise that it ain't how it should be Your eyes are heavy and the weather's getting ugly

This one is also way to sad if you place it in a relationshippy context. There's a few ways I see it: 1) it's alright - no matter what happens, because A. knows M. loves him and will understand why things ended like they did. It shouldn't be this way - but it has to be, because there's things standing in the way. He believes he'll understand despite the grief. 2) dramatic, sad version - the "it ain't how it should be" actually references the "love me part". So M. should understand that things ended because they shouldn't love each other this way. It's just now how it should be and A. believes M. recognises that.

So pull over, I know the place Don't you know an apparition is a cheap date? What exactly is it you've been drinking these days?

once again referencing bumping into each other randomly? And going with it - going some place; talking. Maybe about how Miles' is doing, the heartbreak, how he deals with it - the alcohol (once again - just referencing what he himself sang about in lyrics on his breakup album)

Jukebox in the corner, "Long Hot Summer" They've got a film up on the wall and it's dark enough to dance

"Long Hot Summer" - by The Style Council is actually a song Alex cited to be one of the main references/inspirations used when working on the EYCTE album. So is definitely a nostalgic/meaninful song between the two. They go to a place after bumping into one another - there's a jukebox with a nostalgic song. They can dance together - because it's an incognito, dark place.

What do you mean you've never seen Blade Runner?

Now the Blade Runner line is so clearly Taylor Bagley (the woman is a huge, huge fan of it, apparently) it did have me stumped for a while. But then - maybe it's a clarifying line? Like - if this were about Taylor he would definitely not say that to her. It's obvious she's seen it a million times. Maybe this is here to sort of clarify this?

Oh, maybe I was a little too wild in the '70s Back down to earth with a lounge singer shimmer Elevator down to my make-believe residency From the honeymoon suite Two shows a day, four nights a week Easy money

70s again - EYCTE era But after the tour ended it was time to go back to earth, back to being non-TLSP Alex. Running away from reality into writing music - writing about a make-believe residency (Tranquility Base) Time to leave the honeymoon era = the tour and shows TLSP had together. (also AM may be easy money? Their reputation [very well deserved] makes it so that it's easy - bc anything they come out with will be bought)

So who you gonna call? The Martini Police So who you gonna call? The Martini Police Oh, baby, that isn't how they look tonight It took the light absolutely forever to get to your eyes

...

And as we gaze skyward, ain't it dark early?It's the star treatment Yeah, and as we gaze skyward, ain't it dark early? It's the star treatment It's the star treatment The star treatment

a sad ending. It got dark. A bit too early. It's sad that it all ended. But that's how it has to be - in show buisness, in the industry. They're well known people and it could hurt their careers - also it would just get out easily, so there's no room for self-discovery and just trying it out. That's the star treatment. (This is also a theme I am seeing in Mr. Schwartz lyrics. But that's for another time) Am I crazy? Probably! Is this just accidental elaborate fan fiction? Maybe! But still...I don't know. Song theories are fun. I get that morally it's a gray / or maybe even red area - talking out loud, publicly about theories invloving specific names and relationships. But like... Sue me! Let's call it a guilty pleasure. If anyone ever reads through this wall of text... Hi! Thanks and sorry. And please share some thoughts! (Eh. May just delete this soon anyway) Peace and love

[obsessedwvampbois]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐋 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬

Oh boy so this is gonna make people really mad. I have listened to a total of 52 songs from the Diabolik Lovers franchise (that I could find) and ranked them for the hell of it. For this ranking I will be including all character songs, openings (both anime and game) along with the remixes. I will not be counting solo versions of songs (eg. Gin no bara), soundtrack bgm or the endings themes.

My ranking is based on these things:

how well does the song fit the character/s or game, both in lyrics and aesthetic

the overall production and performance of the song

is the song a bop? would I willingly listen to it again?

Couple of disclaimers: I do not speak Japanese so I will be crediting the translations of each song as I go through them along with any think pieces / essays that I come across. If there is any song I missed, please let me know and I’ll slot it into the rankings, its hard to find one source that has all the songs recorded. Finally, just a reminder because I know I'm gonna make someone mad, this is my list! If you don't like it make your own or ignore mine, I'm only one person and my opinion is not final!

With that in mind, my rankings are below the cut

*Least Best*

These are the songs I will probably never listen to again. I have a few gripes with them that I'll talk about in my explanation.

52. 誓いのカンパネラ (Chikai no Campanella)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is just super underwhelming overall. The guitar is my favourite thing about the song but that's it. There is so much build up for a boring chorus. The lyrics don't have much for me either.

51. 血戦のDies irae (Kessen no Dies irae)

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

On the opposite end, this song is so overwhelming. There are so many elements to follow and its hard to keep up. This is the first time I'll bring it up but the volume of the voices is so quiet compared to the backing track, its frustrating. The lyrics is what brings it up a notch as it talks about the day of wrath (dies irae) as the day the founders take over. I was also low key hoping to hear some version of the dies irae song hidden in the background but I couldn't hear any.

50. S.O.S-ΑtoΩ-

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

This song just feels so forgettable, I just feel like there isn't much to comment on. There are some interesting lyrics sprinkled out like comparing literal self mutilation to abstinence. Also the actual delivery of 'S ah O ah S ah', I can't take it seriously.

49. Dystopia

Kino

~translation~

This had an interesting start because I hadn't heard anything similar for DL but then after a few lines the tone change was just a nope for me. Again, Kino's voice is super quiet and the constant barrage of all these instruments that don't really gel together its confusing. Overall, it didn't leave much of an impression and I couldn't really visualised DL in the song.

48. 吸愛ラビリンス (Kyūai Labyrinth)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

Praise for the saxophone! Props to that because it shines here and is really the only memorable thing besides that final line of the chorus. The song does give the vibe of the Vandead Carnival with its more playful energy though. The lyrics feel really typical, like there are so many times I read lyrics about drinking blood before I get bored.

47. 極限(UNLIMITED) BLOOD -Remix ver.-

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation w/ original ver.~

I don't think I really need to hear EDM/dubstep and Diabolik Lovers again thanks. It feels super dated and the vocoded singing is a little much for my taste. Good source material and the stripped back vocals at some points is quite nice.

46. 愛しきPain (Itoshiki Pein)

Subaru

~translation~

First off please never let me see Subaru near a fedora again thanks. Overall I felt bored with this song, like its nice, but that it. There are similar sounding songs that just hit home similar themes a lot stronger later on. The best part of this song is the spoken word but it feels weird for Subaru to be singing such a slow song.

45. Luv Apple Juice

Ruki & Azusa

~translation~

Yes, I am counting Ruki's spoken word, its my list. Lyrics are a must read with references to Adam, Eve and Eden throughout. Again, the voices are super quiet and with how fast paced the instrumentals are its annoying. The tempo also backfires because these are two of the more 'chill' characters. The last complaint is that the speed of Ruki's speaking compared to Azusa's singing just isn't right.

44. DIE IS CAST

Kou & Yuma

~translation~

This has to be my least favourite opening to a song, the staccato is just really grating to me. The way I'd describe the chorus is loud, the same note over and over again isn't appealing. The lyrics are an interesting read but nothing feels super important. The highlight of the song is the pre-chorus, thanks production!

43. カレイドナイト (Kaleido Night)

Kanato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is just generic, like overall. The sound, the lyrics, the production. There just wasn't must for me to listen to without zoning out.

*Average*

These songs don't leave too much of a lasting impression on me, but I still enjoy them.

42. 苺の罪 (Ichigo no Tsumi) (strawberry sin)

Reiji

~translation~

First of the generic rock songs! I couldn't really find much in the lyrics of note I think the actual performance of the song is my favourite element here.

41. 真夜中の饗宴( MIDNIGHT PLEASURE) -Remix ver.

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation w/ original~

One the best part of the original is that opening section with the steps, it creates some nice anticipation for the coming song. The chorus this time round feels a little low energy after the hype of the pre-chorus. After watching the actual opening with the remix, I kind of wish they had the voice over, the song is so chill the last chorus could have it to make it feel more grandiose.

40. ZERO

Subaru

~translation~

Second generic rock song, this time it actually suits Subaru's brand! The lyrics do have some hints to Subaru as a character which is better. My sustaining thought is that this sounds like an off brand Arcadia.

39. Bloody★Mayim★Mayim

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

This has to have one of the strongest hooks for DL. For how many people sing in the song, it's easy to keep track of and the chemistry between them all is in sync. The main issue is that it feels like its missing some element to make it shine, the lyrics aren't in-depth too which brings it down another peg. The bridge/interlude is the best part though as I can visualise some mini story within the song here.

38. ADDICTED (2) PHANTOM

Ayato

~translation~

This song would be so much higher if I felt like it was more memorable cuz the lyrics here really shine. My interpretation is that this is Ayato questioning where his love stops and his sadistic nature to satiate his desires begin, can he separate the two? He both loves and despises the idea of draining his s/o dry. Another gripe with the song is that its not quite Ayato's aesthetic sonically.

37. Kindan no 666 (Three Six)

Kou & Azusa

~translation~

What puts this song so low is the majority of the instrumental, it takes a backseat here when I feel there could be more added. Props to percussion, drums are great though. After watching the MB opening so many times its hard to not see DL. Lyrics match with this one line here describing Kou in a nutshell:

"Sin spread from mouth to mouth, saying 'I’ll be gentle' pulls the trigger on a casual disaster!"

36. Iolite (アイオライト )

Shu

~translation~

I don't know why the producers associate electro-pop with Shu, I can't really see it much. I think they should have gone full glitch-pop instead considering how the song does a deep dive into his mind and thought process. Again, I think the voice is also quiet here but the instrumentals have some great moments, especially the strings.

35. 常夜KNOW UNDERSKIN

Sakamaki

~translation~

Well this gives Sakamaki vibes, nice guitar! Again, I like how it isn't overwhelming despite the amount of people involved. Lyrics aren't super impactful but super catchy.

34. 冷たい血 (Tsumetai Chi)

Ruki

~translation~

You have to read the lyrics while reading this, please! Its surprisingly wholesome and emotional overall. Again, there is the issue of the voice being way to quiet as the instrumentals swallow him whole after the second clock tick. The delivery is really well timed and production does a great job adding elements that works with the lyrics. There is a subtle echo to the voice that feels super enchanting as he comes to terms with the fact that he has fallen in love. Biggest drawback obviously is that this is just spoken word.

33. KISS♥MARK

Shu

~translation~

This song delves into the more perverse side of Shu, but we haven't really reached the level of Laito (we'll get there). The phone feels a little out of character but it suits that narrative. The straight cut out of music for the intermission was a bit abrasive but the transition back to music makes me forget about that with how slick it is. At least its better than a generic rock song.

32. カモフラージュ (Camouflage)

Shu & Laito

~translation~

What a great match up for subject matter, my interpretation is a denial and inability to accept oneself, ultimately using a mask to hide. So please look up the lyrics for some gems. However, after the 'against the blood' nothing really hit that same point sonically, furthermore its not the most aesthetically fitting for the two characters.

*Great*

These songs I actively enjoy, think about and do listen to occasionally and would recommend you check it out too.

31. >REDRUM<-

Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is full of anagrams in the lyrics, I mean look at the song title. Its super catchy and is hard to forget about. The bridge is the weakest part of this song but it is made up by the distortion of vocals after the final chorus.

30. Fanatic of Night

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

Well time to party, talk about a bop and a half! Its just so fun, even though its to exactly DL to me, but that's Lunatic Parade for you. Shout out to the guitarist and percussion once again.

29. Bad Howling

Shu, Ayato & Kou

~translation~

This is super catchy, its nice to hear Kou in the opening song this time round, it spices things up. Theres some really nice elements played with the vocals as they sing over one another that is really well balanced. The biggest peg down is that I don't get super DL vibes and the lyrics aren't the deepest.

28. I.M.I.T.A.T.I.O.N. G.A.M.E

Kino

~translation~

Overall this song is a little generic and doesn't sound like DL but! There is a lot to love here too. Starting off with the performance, I really like the vibrato in his voice and the decent of notes at the end of the chorus is just, yes. It a nice hook and the lyrics are pretty good too. My only other complaint is that the drums mask some smaller elements in the background of the song which would have been nice to hear more in the forefront.

27. 極限(UNLIMITED) BLOOD

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This is where the rankings get pretty hard cuz I wish this was higher but oh well. the dramatic shift from the opening piano to the song is so abrupt but it gets you pumped. The intermission does a good job of changing things up without cutting tension. The lyrics themselves seem to be from the view of the Adam project during more blood and the unquenchable thirst they get in the story.

26. アルカディア (Arcadia)

Ayato

~translation~

Immediately I get Ayato vibes from this song and the rapping does help too with a nice flow that isn't too jarring from the rest of the song. These lyrics are basically Addicted2Phantom on steroids, I can't see anyone else other than Ayato in them.

25. Kekkyoku Night

Ayato

~translation~

Don't know why but the guitar melody just seems like I had heard it before but I can't put my finger on it. The bass is super slick here and I really enjoy it. The vocal distortion at the start of the verse sets a scene for him to hunt down this person and its a narrative choice. The main issue is that I wish there was a little more pizzaz to the chorus.

24. Kaikan DEATH-TRUCTION

Kanato

~translation~

Spoilers but I have placed both a Kanato's songs pretty high up so this was a little bit of a let down after the other two. The main issues here is that I don't really get too much of Kanato in the song and the yelling before the chorus is a little much. This, to me, is a self reflection from Kanato which is a good switch up from his last two songs. Overall, the song is abrasive in a good way that isn't overwhelming and the 8-bit section is my fave.

23. 血濡れた密会 (BLOODY SABBATH)

Laito

~translation~

Oh boy, look these lyrics up for a good time. This song is about his hook up with a women with the song getting progressively darker as it goes on. Nice psycho reference but I don't know if it does much in the end. Really catchy hook and the escalation of the final chorus is just so good. Also I'm just going to leave this line from the song here:

“You wend all out with the rodeo girl play? So then, let’s grind!!!”

22. 幻日理論-Parhelion Logic

Ayato

~translation~

This song is meant to be kind of an open letter to Cordelia and my word these lyrics are haunting. It fits the vibe of Haunted Dark Bridal so well, super strong overall. I just wish there was a stronger performance vocally.

21. 暴言シンドローム (Seiron Syndrome)

Yuma

~translation~

Yuma, to me has some pretty good observation skills and its really highlighted here. The first line just hits the nail on the head in terms of how rough he is both in and out of the bedroom. This song is the best of the 'generic rock' with production being really smooth despite the high energy, it matches him really well. First line:

The pain of your sprained neck won’t subside

20. 蠱惑のParade (Kowaku no Parade)

Reiji & Kanato

~translation~

We got another catchy banger here! This song just screams 'the two of us are here to hunt you down and we won't stop till we get a taste.' I mean this song is super pleasing aesthetically and great lyrics to boot!

19. KILLYOU,AGAIN

Azusa

~translation~

The strings are an immediate attention grabber and its hold it throughout the whole song. Super catchy, and these lyrics are Azusa, especially this chorus. Id be interested to hear what people think about the second verse in particular cuz there's a lot to read into:

"In a worn out state of mind, no matter how many nights we question it... We’ve idealised too much."

18. SQueeze…

Subaru

~translation~

Okay before anything else, the squeeze at the start is goofy, I can't take it seriously. Anyway, I can't help but tap my foot to this song. Third times the charm, finally hitting Subaru's aesthetic to a T. The voice is a little quiet on the track but what takes over just sounds so good. The contrast of the bell and the guitar is just, yes thank you. The pre-chorus is a nice mix up to the status quo and these lyrics are great too.

17. 愛の檻 (Ai no Ori)

Ayato & Laito

~translation~

The opening is a nice tone setter for a haunting head bopper. These voices work together so well, just like how the sirens work with the strings. The singular violin during the bridge is great, praise to anyone who can do that my god. The string motif climaxes at the final chorus and it creates an awesome song!

16. 月蝕(Eclipse)

Kou, Yuma & Azusa

~translation~

Well we have a nice build up ballad here. The opening is a little out of place but I forget about it as it builds to this final chorus with the tempo getting faster and faster. The stripped back production also ends up aiding the song in the end with its punches and message. Speaking of which; I get the idea this is about watching some either currently or in retrospective how their personality changes after turning into a vampire; a loss of innocence. How fitting for the Mukami's.

“Despising the sunlight that filters through the blinds is only inevitable, I suppose”

*Faves*

This is what I think the best of the best is. It reflects the themes, ideas and characters of Diabolik Lovers in the best way possible. When people ask me what music from the franchise to listen to, I point to these songs.

15. Count off

Kino

~translation~

There is so much to talk about here, this is a mix of singing and spoken piece and it works so well for me. The delivery over this contagious beat I can't help but get hints of a k-pop vibe here. The movement to singing then vocoded voice are interesting and fun. The bridge switch up too is great, my only wish is that the choir hand a little more presence in the final chorus cuz its fun the first times round, it would be a nice call back.

14. A Certain Prophet's Fate [とある預言者の、運命 Toaru Yogensha no Unmei]

Reiji

~translation~

I can visualise a Nutella Kookie moodboard with this opening alone. To me, this is Reiji explain his views on women with allusions to Faust too, not the Ikemen version relax. there are some cool allusions to his mother in the lyrics too. The bass is so cool to listen out for and the guitar nodding to the chorus at the end is a nice way to end. I was just hoping for a little continuation to the opening like Reiji finding this person escaping on horseback.

13. CHAOS☆PARTY

Laito

~translation~

Aaaaaand another innuendo song from Laito, what a surprise! The jazzy, circus-pop vibes are super fun and catchy, I love it. It's like an upgraded version of Bloody Sabbath to me. The distortion on the guitar is also great to listen out for.

"Don’t decide where’s the critical point, grind as you feel it,

Till the moon oh, mockingly"

12. Mr.ButterflyMask

Reiji

~translation~

The opening may be cliche but it works so well, this is such a deep dive into Reiji's psyche; his mother, inferiority complex and village burning to name a few. The actual song is easy to remember which makes it even better here, the descending notes at the end of the chorus is a highlight.

"Burnt black, that awful land mark"

11. 真夜中の饗宴 (MIDNIGHT PLEASURE)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

The song to start it all, thank god it's such a highlight. I get so hyped from hearing the opening footsteps; mirroring the prologue with You stepping into the mansion for the first time. I feel so nostalgic for this and I'm hyped to play the game every time I hear this. The spoken section is the high point in terms of the HDB aesthetic but these lyrics maaaannn:

"With a scream that shatters the moon itself I’ll give you this extraordinary pain called “love”!"

10. Guilty×Guilty!!!

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

I'm gonna get crucified for putting this above midnight pleasure but my list and this is my fave game op. The only peg down is the lyrics but it makes up so much for the actual sound variation. The unnerving energy from this scifi-y noise, it screams danger with the Tsunami arrival. The variation between the two verses in robs what places it high and the bridge is excellent to boot.

9. Farewell Song

Shu

~translation~

If I had to make one song recommendation outside of DL with this list it is this song here. The lyrics and melody match up the same way and both are strong in their own right. Onto the song, these lyrics really shine wrangling with ideas and the thought process of depression; something that hits close to home for me. With the inclusion of the destructive nature vampires its truely impactful. The sound of the song aids these lyrics too while all sounding like Shu.

Without pause, the drops of a drizzle had begun to weep...

...Comforting the screams of the things you’ve touched"

8. Mr.SADISTIC NIGHT

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This is my favourite opening of all the games and anime and it is the most on theme with the DL franchise, not just the one game. The guitar rifts at the start are just sooooo iconic. The actual line "Mr Sadistic Night" is delivered so well too. I mean the song speaks for itself. I will make the observation though that this song is the epitome of kids unknowingly singing a song with dirty lyrics.

"If I’m so aroused by the snare of your enticing blood

Tonight, as I thrust deep into you, a lust for death awakens from within you!"

7. 悪魔的（Devil's）Spire!!!!

Kou

~translation~

This song is just Kou at his best, I can imagine him singing this at a concert as a debut single. It has all the elements of a catchy pop song with some sinister elements that just reflects his personality. Production has my praise here too. The song seems to be a friends with benefits situation Kou has as he recounts the tale. Also, more innuendos:

"In the deep red velvet sheets, Do you want to taste my forbidden syrup?"

6. Operation X

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

Haven't seen these guys in a while! You can tell production had fun adding all these medical sounds in the back like the sirens and heart monitor. The song itself is super catchy too, that bass just hits you at the core! The lyrics look like the Tsukinami's observation of You as she has become entangled with all these vampires and the situation just seems to spiral even more out of control.

"The risk spreads further the deeper you get involved...

...The more you give up, the more that guy mocks you"

5. GRATEFUL★DEAD★MARCH

Kanato

~translation~

Production had fun again, you can tell. It's more upbeat there is still a sinister vibe here. The constant switch ups within the song all flow so well. I feel genuine despair listening to this chorus, like Kanato is mocking or toying with me before going in for the kill. My only complaint is that the slowing down at the end is a bit of a mood killer.

4. 切断★舞踏会 (KIRISAKI CARNIVAL)

Kanato

~translation~

In terms of character aesthetic, this is sheer perfection. There is a narrative within this song that you need to look at the lyrics for the best experience. The sound effects act as a good way to heighten the story as they match the lyrics. One moment to note it both the chorus and pre-chorus as they act as the extreme ends on Kanato's personality and it creates a great dichotomy when placed together.

3. Q.E.D.

laito

~translation~

My favourite solo song, and the one I constantly visit the most. Laito is a complex character and this song does a self reflection in the best way possible.I would also recommend reading this great analysis by everything laito because I can't do a proper analysis justice. For the song itself, the piano is a great mood setter as it acts as if we are approaching Laito as he plays the piano about to go into one of his many monologues to himself. The intercut from the piano to the guitar is abrupt but it works so well as if there are crack in his facade showing through. The change back to the piano is great too and isn't distracting in any way. I also think this is such an emotional performance, like I can feel the sadness and despair along with almost a self deprecating humour to the delivery. Top notch stuff

2. 罠-If You’re Diablo- (Wana -If You’re Diablo-)

Mukami Brothers

~translation~

I want mention first off that the spoken word from Ruki is such an aid here, the pace is slower, more haunting and despair-inducing in tone. The speaking adds a nice break to the vocals. The chorus in particular packs such a punch its kind of nice to lie on the ground and just let the song envelop you. The lyrics give the impression that there is a mutually destructive relationship here with the Mukami's mentioning of betrayal yet they suck the blood of this person. There is also a feeling of hopelessness that the Mukami's know they can never achieve their goal of becoming Adam.

"I'd been resigned to become Adam since who-knows-when...

I continue to hate this fate, my prayers in zero"

1. Gin no Bara

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

And we're finally at the end! This song encapsulates everything that Diabolik Lovers is. Vocally, it's really catchy with such a somber vibe, because that's what DL is. It's a dark series but you can see that darkness with each backstory, the actions these characters take and just the overall hopelessness in this one song. The Sakamaki's all singing together packs such a punch too. There are so many gems in these lyrics, to literally acknowledging the pain and suffering their mothers' caused and coming to terms with the actions they have committed as they fall in love.

"The proof remains on your neck while you sleep quietly Even if an eternal curse awaits me beyond those overflowing tears

I now hold this love and pain in my chest"

*SHOUTOUTS*

I want to give a huge shout out to the following people. They have helped immensely with translation and just overall accessibility to the songs because they would be 1000 times more harder to find without them.

Silvermoon249 (Live Journal)

Asyqin98 Creator (YouTube)

S I s o v o l i (Youtube)

DIABOLIK LOVERS (YouTube)

Dialovers otaka (Tumblr)

Starlight voices (Tumblr)

Cannonette (Tumblr) @canonette

The Precious Sugar Chan (Tumblr)

One final note, I would recommend listening to these with headphones because the audio sometimes does that thing where it jumps from ear to ear and it creates the best effect to be more involved in the atmosphere.

[btsandvmin]

A personal dilemma

I feel like I have to explain properly why I have reacted the way I did and why the asks about me not doing videos for Vmin affected me so much. I am sorry for dwelling on this subject so much but it is something that is important to me and effect what I do and how I do it a lot.

This post is a bit confused and I might also come across both as a hypocrite and as "high and mighty". But I believe every person has a responsibility for what they do no matter how small the effect. And I need to get this off my chest. This is a conflict within me that I don't have an answer to yet.

For the last few days I've seriously considered if I should continue with writing analysis for Vmin or not. Because at the end of the day I know what I do have a sort of snowball effect that is out of my control. So asking me to not do videos in worry about Vminies getting delusional faster or me being seen as a analysis maker more similar to some ji/kookers or tar/kookers like tkk/lives made me wonder not only if putting out videos was something that bring more bad than good, but if making any analyses at all was something that brought more bad than good.

Even if I try hard to stay away from sounding delusional and to warn my readers of the problems with believing the things I point out and the narratives I share might still lead to more confidence in Vmin being superior or real. Even if it's not my intention I can't control what people do after reading or watching my material.

Thus if creating leads to more bad for both the Vmin community and perhaps in the long run even Vmin... How can I in good conscience keep doing it?

I always believed and hoped that my way of writing, and of being open and transparent with the problems with shipping analysis would rather at least to some extent halt the ones reading and understanding my stance from turning delusional or over confident etc. That I could be clear about the difference between facts, theories and narrative and make others aware too.

When I started this blog I was just shipping happily and reblogged others posts. Until the "you can't ship Vmin they are friends" issue bothered me enough to write about it so I wrote "The “bromance” issue". Then I kept making material to show why Vmin is just as good and easy to ship romantically as any other ship. Thus my 10 reasons to ship posts etc.

The first time I truly got into analysing territory was with my first song analysis. And even then it was just a feeling that the songs could match and speculation mostly for fun. Vmin kept doing things, and yet I saw a lot of people get angry or defensive just for shipping Vmin. For example as 4 o'clock came out and Vminies got attacked for "making it about Vmin". Already feeling like Vmin's songs kind of fit together, and how other shippers tried to make the songs about their own ships (including 4 o'clock) I started to look closer at various ship analyses and seeing the lack of Vmin analyses compared to other maknae ships made me feel like people just zoomed in on their own ship and ignored everyone else. I couldn't help but want to add my own Vmin interpretations. I wanted to add a Vmin perspective as a sort of counter weight. Especially since I felt the things I saw had more to them than similar theories from other ships. For example the songs, being soulmates, using army as a substitute for each other or my own version of Vlive analysis, which was that Vmin seemed to avoid it rather than them hiding in each other's room. Other ships had these theories, despite Vmin having at least some of these things confirmed. So in a way, the soulmate claim and 4 o'clock was my starting point to look at Vmin in a different way and a bit after that I started making analyses.

It felt weird to see all of these things go ignored when other ship communities made their followers believe in the relationships with a lot less than I felt Vmin had. I never got confident that Vmin was real and I still think the odds of any ship being real aren't that big. But I did feel like many people completely ignored Vmin both as soulmates and as a ship.

So, while asking my fellow Vminies to be careful with believing I kept looking at Vmin and added my biased theories to show it could very much be done with Vmin as well. I never wanted to make people delusional, but having been in many fandoms before I also knew that with size that is something that can't be avoided. I saw that as BTS kept growing and as big Vmin moments happened, that more and more people shipped them. It made me happy. But I also knew it would mean more and more would eventually start to question Vmin the way other ships got questioned. I really think it's something that happens eventually with enough of a following. There are so many ships in Kpop that people believe in and try to prove, it definitely wasn't exclusive to BTS. (You can even look outside Kpop at things like the Sherlock or Supernatural or even Hunger Games fandoms where many speculated that the actors weren't just close, they were romantically involved.)

I wanted to talk about Vmin, but I didn't want to be one of those that told people what to think and to believe me no matter what. I wanted peope to question without "knowing" what the truth was. I was hoping to bring something different than just the safe "this is just my thoughts and you can take it or leave it" disclaimers. I wanted to explain the problems and to remind ourselves (me included) that shipping is something that can easily turn into more if you don't actively remind yourself that we actually don't know the truth. We have narratives that seem to make sense, but so does other shippers... So for many of these belivers it is impossible to be right. Not everyone can be right about their "truth", if anyone, since they go against each other. If Vmin turn out to not be together I do not want to be the one responsible for people believing they were real, only to get hurt when they aren't.

This is something I've always felt, and as I kept writing analysis I always wondered if I really should. Especially since I saw some Vminies get inspired by me or even taking some of my theories and run with them as facts rather than the theories they were. I put things out there, moments and ideas. A narrative for Vmin. And I saw others adapt them and go further with them. I wasn't sure how to feel as I realized my blog perhaps contributed to Vminies feeling more suspicious and slowly more confident in Vmin being more real than other ships.

Even if it was my goal to make people look at Vmin, I guess with all the things Vmin did it all started to feel more "real" for me too. So many of my theories seemed to work and even get proven or added new material. The songs kept coming and Vmin kept being Vmin. But I also knew this exact thing happend with ji/kookers after G.C.F came out. New material that "confirmed" their beliefs and in turn allowed them to become more confident in being right. So I kept reminding myself not to get swept away, because in the end I don't think no matter how much we have gotten, that it has to prove anything besides how much Vmin mean to each other. Romantic or platonic truly doesn't matter.

Another thing that makes a difference to me is also the way I view the different ships if they would actually be real. For example watching ji/kook and ji/kook theories it seems pretty clear they don't mind people shipping them or seeing things between them. I've never seen Jimin be careful, but instead rather bold and almost pushy, with moments with JK. If Ji/kook is together their shippers too believe that they want people to know. With Vmin I saw it a bit differently... I've seen Jimin be careful with how he and Tae comes across since 2014. Why I don't know. But if we imagine there to actually be something between Vmin, then it doesn't seem like it's something Jimin wants us to know. Taehyung is a bit bolder, but either way the "narrative" I see for Vmin if they would be real is that they are careful with getting exposed. Thus there is also that factor to consider when writing theories about them. If Vmin would be real somehow, and they don't want to be "exposed" how is what I do the right thing?

I have had a post in my drafts for a while and I wanted to add it here in case you are interested. After all, this isn't something new that came after the video asks, but rather something I've always questioned. Which is why it really got to me when I got asked to stop doing something for the sake of the community, myself and Vmin.

This is something I wrote a while ago and I decided not to post at the time. I hope you will understand my feelings a little bit better after reading all of this.

I hope you understand where I am coming from and excuse me for generalizing and speaking about the Vmin (and other ships) community as if it's one big force and not many individuals.

***

Now, I have debated for a long time if I should talk about this at all and basically take a stance in a way I would prefer not to. I know I will lose followers over this, and that's ok. I can't force anyone to listen. But with the way I see the Vmin community grow I also see the confidence in Vmin being real grow. It's natural and happens with all ships eventually, but I still hope Vminies can look at shippers from other communities and realize the same kind of reasoning applies to us all.

I get more messages that sound borderline delusional now than ever.

I always suspected we would reach this point, because again, as things get more normalized and ok to talk about the bolder statements and theories will become. It literally happens with all ships, slowly at first and then gradually worse and worse until you reach truly delusional levels where Big Hit are playing up other relationships to hide the truth or trying to create a glass closet for another ship and where every choice and action has a possible agenda. I don't think Vminies will get worse than other ships that are much bigger and bolder. But I do think we have already changed a lot in the last year. Even looking at my own posts I seem to have at some point escalated from "Vmin seem to have these push and pull moments" to "Vmin's push and pull" if you see the difference. It might be small, but it definitely matters in how my views comes across.

When I write I do try to present facts and then speak carefully and not confidently about narratives or meanings. If we take my song analysis for example I think there is a substantial amount of things even when just looking at facts. But, saying what those facts might mean will in the end always remain a biased guess. Especially since other shippers have their similar theories as well that they believe in 100%. I mean, I could make a case for Tae and Hobi's songs being connected as well. I've seen analysis like this from all shippers at this point, and I can't dismiss them anymore than they can dismiss mine. (As long as they keep to facts.)

I am careful, and even then I see some of my theories being talked about as fact, or att least very close to facts.

From what I have seen I have moments between Vmin I have notcied and shared that haven’t been picked up on before I did it. I still have some things like this I haven’t shared at all, simply because I think fans would run with them and become more delusional simply by knowing about them.

Sadly, the way things are going I feel uncertain if I should share more of these things at all. I don’t want to have to go around and debunk Vmin moments or urge people to watch other ships, because in the end every person has the right to enjoy a ship in their own way. But I do think confidence is dangerous no matter how good moments we get.

Ji/kookers got a lot worse after GCF Tokyo and started to talk about how Big Hit might be working towards a glass closet. And that might sound ridiculous, but I have seen Vminies say the same with the way Vmin has been "shown" as Friends came out and other pretty good Vmin moments from the last year. The question of "Do you think something is up with Vmin?" or "Do you think they are planning something based on the amount of moments we get?" are questions I have gotten many times.

You might think I am being too careful, but because I have been in many fandoms in a period of over 15 years I literally see the same development happen for all different kinds of shipping communities. Real and fictional. Where the fans get more and more confident as the groups gets bigger. It’s a gradual change towards feelings certain and allowing more logical leaps to fill the gaps, but it will get faster and faster once it starts.

I don’t want Vminies to get more and more similar to how many ji/kookers and tae/kookers act and think. Where we find suspicion in everything and allow ourselves to feel confident. (Or worried whenever something goes against that belief.)

I might sound a hypocrite considering I do write analysis on Vmin, but I am sorry to say, the way things are going maybe I shouldn’t anymore.

Every ship in BTS have moments, and every ship in BTS even have believers who truly KNOWS their ship is real. I often used to get the question “do you know this or that about this other ship” and “if you only looked at and knew about xxx you wouldn’t ship Vmin” etc. And honestly, they have a point. Only I think it works both ways for all shippers. We all mostly look at our own ship and have our own narratives and reasons to think they make the most sense. But as soon as we allow narratives to sound like the only or most logical explenation we have lost a big part of our ability to question others and ourselves. That's why I wanted to add the Vmin narrative in the sea of ji/kook and tae/kook theories.

Recently I posted Can shipping turn into conspiracy theories? and part of the reason I did so was because I have seen an increased tendency in the Vmin community to walk this thin line between shipping and belief.

I feel very conflicted honestly. I want our community to try and stay away from being sure, no matter how compelling the arguments. Again, I have literal hundreds of pages about Vmin being weird or doing things I think make them the most likely to be real in some form when looking at BTS.

AND I AM STILL NOT GOING TO BE CONVINCED.

I have followed another group where members kiss when drunk and talk like they ship each other and even if a ship might seem real there is just too much we don't know. And a lot about other ships we decide to ignore or don't know. I have been accussed of being a ji/kooker because I won't say ji/kook being real is impossible. But how can l? How would me saying ji/kook can't be real be any different to the aggressive ji/kookers who has come to me to say "Vmin is cute but ji/kook is real".

Of course every person might have their own level of what might convince them, but we also know that literally millions of other people are convinced of completely different things with incredible certainty.

I don't want to be scared to put my theories out there so they can be taken as facts.

I have said it before, and I know shippers are drawn to confidence, but that's the exact reason to why I choose not to be confident even though it gets me more hate and less followers.

***

So this is what I wrote a while ago... And hearing people worry about what might happen if I start making videos just made these thoughts resurface. Especially since I didn't feel that video was very analytical, but it still likely would make people notice Vmin in a "what if they are real" way. Again, I use moments that exists, but I also add them in a different context, with a Vmin narrative. If what I write or make seems legit and makes sense then my tone of being careful might not matter. People will get exposed to moments and ideas I highlight and then take them further. That's why I hesitate.

I don't think I am big or influential enough to do much, but just doing 'a little' shouldn't excuse it if it in the end leads to something bad, more than it leads to something good. That's why adding YouTube as a platform doesn't make much of a difference in my mind if I still do what I do here. Sure YouTube is bigger and things get spread faster... But I write much more analytical and questionable things here than I did in that video, and even if it gets spread slower and to less people isn't what I do here in a sense then worse?

If me making videos makes some of you nervous (which I understand and relate to) then what will it lead to if I post basically a book on everything weird I've seen and thought in regards to Vmin?

I want to feel like I add more good to the community than I bring bad. I always thought I was doing the former as I tried to make my followers feel open minded rather than convinced. Now I don't know where I stand anymore and so I feel even more unsure of what to do.

Maybe I should have kept this all to myself and not vented out my worries to you. But I take this rather seriously and while I love what I do and love being part of the Vmin community I am feeling conflicted and I felt like sharing why might be good for me.

I know this was long and I applaude you if you managed to read through it all. I am truly so happy to have gotten so many nice and understanding and kind messages from you all. And many of you even saying you are happy you came across my blog and that I brought a new perspective, made you more open minded or even kept you from turning delusional. It makes me feel like I at least did some things right. I purple you all. 💜

[its-tea-time-darling]

For the asks! Lead the Way and question 2: what scene did you put down first?

(I also want to ask when/why you decided on the concept you did but I didn’t see that question so here it is on its own spin-off) ☺️

thanks so much for the ask crest! this replies to some stuff you said/observed/wondered about before the reveals so i couldn't reply, so we'll certainly be able to jump start more thourough conversation about this fic from the novel i wrote here. i look forward to it!

<3

(oh, and tagging clod bc maybe you wanna see how your gift came to be @un-ah )

2 Lead the way - what scene did you put down first?

disclaimer: this turned into a 1:1 linear narration of how this fic came to be

the wedding scene. gally exchanging a short greeting with thomas, him about to get married to minho. it ended with a glance exchanged between gally and thomas where we can gather that thomas knows how gally feels, and he is sorry to hurt him, and sorry he can't give him what he wants. (the wedding prompt clod gave specified 'unrequited', so in this first version gally's love was not requited.)

here a link to the song clod included in the unrequited!wedding prompt, i listened to that on repeat for days: TAEYANG - WEDDING DRESS

then, because i'm a simp with a little heart that cannot take too much pain, i realized i couldn't actually write that and still feel some kind of good about myself or the story.

then came the next version (that i still wrote the day the prompts were sent, 17th of october (i remember that date bc the day after is my birthday)). it was 2.5 k words long and did contain the wedding scene but with the ski-lodge flashback scene to show the missed chances gally and thomas had had, and it ended with a glance exchanged between gally and thomas where we can see that 1) thomas knows how gally feels, and 2) thomas is sad about how it ended (or rather: never started) as well, but it's the path he's chosen now. whump whump gally hahha.

but then. the problem was that the fic wasn't unrequited anymore, or not fully, which was what clod's wish said. it's also around that time that i wrote the confession scene i think (because i. couldn't end a thomally fic without them ending up together.)

which then lead me to the problem that i now wasn't fulfilling clod's prompt in any way anymore. which lead me back to the prompts. and there was my salvation: wish 1 'break-up au, it doesn't matter if they get back together again or not'. HA! now i just needed to break them up before i could put them together again!

and yk i love angst, and dyfunctional behaviours and guilt ridden!gally, and thomas losing control, substance abuse etcetc. that's when the whole depression storyline came to me (yes, the idea might just have started with the smut scene what of it), and i was thrilled and exhilarated bc now the whole story and narrative was adding up both in a way that i was thrilled to write and was enjoying SO. INCREDIBLY. MUCH. - and that actually fit with clod's wishes.

so i wasn't able to give clod an actual sad ending, but i could give her an incredibly messy story of them just hurting and hurting each other over and over again.

plus, on the bright side: the ending *does* have thomally finally confessing their feelings, but 1) they will definitely have to put in A Lot of work to make things work between them and 2) the ending's terrible for minho, so it was kind of a not-shiny-perfectly-happy-happy ending!

/proud.

(I also want to ask when/why you decided on the concept you did but I didn’t see that question so here it is on its own spin-off) ☺️

the way i only read this second part of the question now and am pleased to see that i actually did answer this in incredibly depth in the above text - diversity win! :D

-

thanks again so much for sending the ask crest!

[candiliam328]

Season 1 was SO musically superior! Like imma be honest, there are very few songs I remember or liked from season 2. I think in hell I’ll be in good company, golden brown, and major Tom are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. Season 1's soundtrack is iconic. Phantom of the opera? I think we're alone now? The Walker? Shingaling? Kill of the night, hazy shade of winter, happy together, run boy run, picture book, don’t stop me now... they’re all so good! No mistakes were made XD

YES. YES. YES. 

ok this is going to be an extremely long answer and... 

Necessary disclaimer: these are just all my personal opinions (pls don’t attack me)

Season 1 was a musical masterpiece. The OST and the pop music worked really well together. But I... wasn’t impressed with the music in S2. There’s lots of reasons why.

But what you’re talking about... honestly same. I just looked through a playlist of the pop music in S2 and I didn’t remember most of them? Couldn’t even guess what scenes they might play in? That’s... an immediate failing. If you put a song in a show, it needs to be a deliberate choice and it needs to mean something or else why would you bother including that song? 

yike I can literally talk about this for hours (more below the cut)

Music in cinema is really... weird. Even more so when you introduce pop music. 

Ok, let’s go from the beginning... a good musical scoring is supposed to reflect what is happening on your screen. It’s meant to support but not overwhelm. A good musical scoring will implicitly tell you more about the story than what you are visually given... but it’s incredibly subtle. You’re not meant to realize that you’re getting some extra info because that would distract you from what’s actually happening on the screen. Some background processing of info, if you get what I mean. (more to come in my OST analysis, should it ever be finished I guess lol)

This isn’t the case with pop music. This can’t be the case with pop music. 

Remember, the OST is original composition. Written specifically for this show. Only introduced to you in the context of this show.

Popular music, by definition, exists outside the context of this show. 

So there’s a really subtle balance that needs to be kept here when introducing pop music because you risk taking your audience out of the moment and making them think of other memories they already associate with that song. 

How do you combat that? Well, diagetic music (music built into the show, like “I Think We’re Alone Now”) tends to be more easily digested and accepted as part of the show material, since the characters are obviously hearing this music as well and interacting/reacting to the music. You have visual confirmation that this music is part of the show as well as auditory stimulation, so brain is less likely to wander off on its own journey. 

But the more clever way? Have an incredibly meaningful scene tied with it, something that fits in all the right ways and allows it to work like the score, giving you additional information without you even knowing it. Something that overpowers your brain’s tendency to get distracted by whatever other context you may associate with that pop song. Something that will grab your brain and be like “Sorry, brain. This song is officially a TUA song.”

This obviously works best if you have very little memories associated with the song, so the more obscure the song the better. But if you’re an absolute mad genius with your music and your cinematic timing, you can overpower any association with any song, no matter how popular it is. (... ever wonder why every song in Shrek became an immediate Shrek song? yeah lol)

You also have to recognize that the pop music in TUA or in any other piece of cinema that includes pop music? It does not exist in auditory isolation. There’s a running stream of background music and sounds and noises. Clever sound production will make the jump between music as smooth as possible. Clever scoring will think about how to weave a narrative, while keeping in mind the pop music that will be inserted as well. Make everything as subtle and smooth as possible. Your job is to not take the audience away from the narrative of the screen.

Ok, that was a lot of background info. You may be asking, “LOL BEAN WHAT’S YOUR MAIN POINT?”

Alright, so here it is.

The pop music in season 2 was pretty much doomed to be less effective from the get-go. 

The original score of TUA is composed by the lovely Jeff Russo. From my understanding, he knew what pop music was already planned for season 1 before he even got to scoring. This is important. Because he could make choices about the score and the motifs, while keeping the pop music in mind. He could make a more cohesive sound and music experience. And it worked.

There were deliberate choices made with the pop music. They prioritized and made sure you heard them in the right contexts. I will tell you now that there may be some pop music in season 1 that you completely forgot about. That’s OK. You weren’t necessarily supposed to remember them that much. You can’t be expected to pick up on everything. But the ones that played during the most important scenes? “Run Boy Run,” “Don’t Stop Me Now,” “The Walker,” “Never Tear Us Apart”? You know them. They played them longer and they took the time for your ears to appreciate the music and recognize its context in the show. None of this works if your ears and your brain don’t have enough time to process and form the associations of this song with what is happening on the screen. And they resonated with you the most because they reflected what was happening in the show the strongest. These are the important scenes you were supposed to care about and will play in your mind now whenever you hear those songs. 

But an even stronger testament to the integrity of pop music in S1: The other songs you forgot about and can’t name off the top of your head? You can listen to them again and maybe even make a good guess at when they were playing in the show. They... fit the show somehow, even if you can’t exactly place it. 

And this all makes sense if they chose these songs even before they started filming. Even before they started most of the scoring. 

In season 1, choices were made because of the pop music. 

... not so much the case for season 2. 

I’ve spent less time on the music for season 2 and honestly I don’t plan to spend much more ahaha... But here’s my two cents:

The music in season 2... is incredibly confused. You no longer have this cohesive sound experience that showed up in season 1. The OST is stuck with motifs that were developed with pop music from s1 in mind. Also, Russo played really hard into the fact that Vanya played the violin in season 1 and now there’s no violin at all on-screen, but he’s stuck with an excess amount of violin in the scoring, so there’s already less of a connection there. Not only that, but Russo is no longer the sole score composer, was working on other projects while scoring this one, so there’s less time from him dedicated to make this score work, but also a slightly different sound being introduced from another composer.

Now, add in the messiness of time travel to the 1960′s. The OST is not the 1960's. Not even the new tracks introduced. So the 1960′s sound is... trying to come from the pop music. The pop music that doesn’t blend in with your OST because your OST was developed for a time set in the present. 

But wait! Your S1 soundtrack got really popular because of its prime pop music choices... music that fit really well with your scenes. Let’s do that... but even more. Let’s use really popular music !! Backstreet boys, maybe some covers of Billie Eilish, and Adele. Everyone knows these songs !! They’ll see how clever we are and it’ll make them laugh !! 

(Notably, this kinda ruins the charm that they were hoping to replicate from S1? Honestly, several times while I was watching S2, I literally shook my head and closed my eyes, thinking.... “of course, they would play this.” Took me completely out of the show. Yeah, it can be really fun, but idk if you are thinking about the people behind cinematic decisions during your first watch of a show, those people probably messed up at their job?)

But wait, I thought you were using your pop music to establish the 1960′s theme? Now some of your music is directly clashing with that and the environmental setting? You’re confused. What are you supposed to be taking away from the pop music now?

And here’s something even more messy: the pop music in S1 was so incredibly important in establishing the musical identity of your characters, since they were played during some of the most defining character moments. Consciously or not, you have some musical expectations already for each of the characters. Not only that, but you’re expecting this pop music to be telling you more things about your characters than what you’re seeing on the screen. What happens when those expectations are not met? There’s some cognitive dissonance. You’re mentally taken out of the show, thinking about other things. Confused about what you’re supposed to take away from this music. Bad. Musical. Decisions.

So... what does that leave you with for the music in season 2?

A mess of 1960′s music and clunky ‘on-the-nose’ music choices, which may or may not clash with the established musical identities of the characters and all clumsily tied together with a struggling OST for the musically confused ears of the audience.

Tldr; Season 1 was a musical masterpiece. The Season 2 music never even had a chance.

[nostalgiaissue]

The Feminine Urge to Cry Over Growing Older

by Tiffany Peverilla, design by Hailey Lynaugh

January 8th. 8 years old. I still remember how cold the marble-tiled floor felt on my toes when I crept out of bed in the early morning and ran to the mirror in the corner of my room to check my height. I used to think height worked the same way birthdays did, you wake up every year and instantly grow a little taller, get a little older. That was growing up to me, I just wanted my tiny little hands to reach the sky.

Even now, the image stays clear in my head of the messy pink frosting, the big Snow White birthday banner hanging between two towering cabinets, the party hats on that black coffee table in that small living room I used to know. I was so convinced 8 would be the year I finally got to be a big girl, the year I would finally grow up.

Today is January 8th again, but this time, I did not have the privilege of stepping on a cold marble floor. I do, however, have the privilege of a mirror in the corner of my room, but one I avoid profusely in fear of having to stand face to face with the version of myself my brain would cruelly craft for me each day. No longer are there party hats on the table, pink frosting on a cake and Snow White wishing me a happy birthday. No, because growing up isn’t growing taller and being allowed to stay up past 9pm. Growing up means being greeted with the pinging sounds of text notifications that all seem to scream, “19!” even though you still feel 8. Growing up is looking at your mom’s contact profile a little too long, wondering if she might have liked you more if she didn’t see a reflection of all the things she hates about herself whenever she looks at you. Growing up is not growing taller, it’s nights of wishing you were smaller.

—

… Until it isn’t.

About a week after my birthday, my little sister sent me a TikTok video that forever changed the way I think about growing up. In this video was a think-piece written by a woman on why women seem to perceive growing up as a negative experience, but men don’t.

**Disclaimer: I acknowledge that gender is not a binary and that the growing up experience is not exclusive to just men and women. My intentions with this article is solely to view this topic in a male vs. female perspective due to the fact that the issues I will be talking about stem from society at large not having fully progressed to accepting the absence of a binary.

I don’t tend to gravitate towards political think-pieces and comments written by people on social media because, truthfully, I’ve always found them to be lackluster and a little too speculative. So when I first watched the video sent by my sister, I scoffed and brushed it off in disbelief. Surely this random white woman on TikTok is just looking at it a little too deeply, right? Who in their right mind would actually be optimistic over getting older?

But then I thought about it.

Have I ever heard a man complain about growing up? Every post, song, book, movie, or quote I’ve encountered that talked about growing up in a negative or even bittersweet way was always exclusively from the perspective of someone who did not identify as a cis-het male. So maybe there really was something to it, and maybe this TikTok video was right.

Still a little skeptic, I turned to some guys for a little more insight. The men I could get a hold of ranged from being working class to high class and were either cis-het or gay; this is because even though I could not account for the differences between every social/ethnic/economic background, I still made sure to include different male perspectives instead of just treating them like a monolith. I texted them the million-dollar question of “What is/was your experience with entering adulthood?” and hit send with half of me hoping their answers would prove that TikTok video wrong and the other half of me wanting them to say exactly what it hypothesized.

Lo and behold, all of their experiences somehow perfectly fit the narrative I’ve been oblivious to for so long. They were excited (or had been excited) to grow up. I sat there completely baffled. I almost wanted to vomit from how stunned I was that all this time I’d been grieving my childhood, I was alone; that all this time I thought crying over wasted youth was a universal experience, it was really just something only half the world was subjected to.

The longer I sat with it, though, the longer I thought, of course. Why wouldn’t they be optimistic? It’s true that not all men experience growing up the same way due to racial background, sexuality, class, etc., but it’s clear that for most of them, they were taught that entering adulthood meant entering a world of opportunity. For some of them, they were even told that the second they left childhood, they would be greeted with power and sex and stability. To them, growing up was getting taller, and endlessly so at that. And even if the unfortunate reality is that many men never quite end up getting to this dreamland fantasy, very rarely were they informed of it.

Take, for example, how most male protagonists are represented in all your beloved stories, movies, and TV shows. Male characters are almost always represented as successful, opportunity-chasing people who never fail to get the girl. Even if they are forced to go through challenges and periods of hardship, they are almost always one-dimensional in the sense that very few of their problems seem to intersect with their identity as a cis-het man because there really aren’t any. Who can make an issue out of gaining privilege, anyway?

Beyond that, there’s also the idea that women are born with proverbial shelf-lives in the sense that they only tend to decay as they age – very much like how bread gets moldy around the time of their expiration date – whereas men only seem to be more desirable the older they become.

Think of George Clooney, Brad Pitt, or Ryan Reynolds. These are all examples of men well above 40, and they all clearly show signs of aging (i.e. gray hair, wrinkles, aging physique, etc.) but they are what society still perceives to be successful “heartthrobs”, or as some people like to say it, dilfs. Now, think of Kirsten Dunst; she’s only 40, but you could never imagine her as the main, hot, beloved darling of any blockbuster movie. She’s younger than the men listed above, but her appropriate and totally natural signs of a life well lived are not acceptable nor attractive to society. This only becomes increasingly obvious when we start to think about the number of “She’s already 30?” posts circulating social media about female celebrities who people are deluded into thinking are “sexy starlets”, even though they look like almost every other 30-year-old woman in the world. And what about the fact that when old men have gray hair and a beard, they’re categorized as “silver foxes”, but when a woman’s hair turns gray, she’s undesirable and a grandma? Whether we like it or not, we have been socialized to think that for women who are growing older, change (especially that concerning physical appearance), is not natural. Even semantically speaking, milfs and dilfs refer to people of different age groups. The dilf is in his mid 40s to 50s, he’s “aged like a fine wine”, and maybe even has a dad-bod. The milf, on the other hand, is a 30, maybe 40-something-year-old Pixar mom with a minuscule waist, and hips that don’t lie.

This double standard slithers its way into many professional settings, too. The plastic surgery and beauty industry, for instance, prey on women who have been told repeatedly that they can’t look a day over 30 and make billions of dollars because of it. Maybe it seems like getting a little botox isn’t harmful, but think of the reason behind it. Do whatever you want to your appearance, sure. After all, no one is here to tell you you can’t – but would you have wanted to change the way you look if society hadn’t bombarded you with subliminal, and sometimes even direct, advertising of an unattainable and toxic beauty standard?

Even more than that is the way race/ethnicity intersect with how the world perceives girlhood and womanhood. Black girlhood, for example, is often not equated to youth in the same way others are. This is because to our society, young Black girls are frequently not seen as girls at all. Rather, they are perceived as grown women and subsequently expected to act like one. They don’t get to feel like, be represented as, or seen as young girls. In movies, they are often not depicted as innocent, pure and youthful the way white children would be. They are instead sassy, grown up, and in some cases, even sexualized. They are “sapphires” and “Jezebels”, but not children. They can never fit into mostly white and Eurocentric beauty standards, even if they physically have some of the desired features. It doesn’t matter what they look like because other people will always automatically perceive them as more mature and adult-like, almost as if they’re not pure enough or traditionally feminine enough to be as protected as the white girls of our society are. Meanwhile, many East Asian women are infantilized and fetishized for their stereotypical baby-faces and youthful or delicate features. Take a look at how people buy sexualized versions of Japanese school-girl uniforms to perform with on their OnlyFans accounts.

The harsh reality is that there is no winning for anybody. If you do get botox and try to stay young, you’re trying too hard and insecure. If you’re acting too childish and innocent, it’s off-putting. If you have a 20-step skincare routine to prevent wrinkles and sun-damage, you’re obsessive and high maintenance. You have to be perfectly young yet also sexy, adolescent yet adult, delicate yet sultry, exotic yet tame, tiny but curvy, non-threatening yet challenging, etc. This judgement doesn’t just exist in the personal sphere of a heteronormative romantic life either, it also affects women in their work lives and communities. If you’re too young, then you’re naive, but if you’re too old, then you need to be caring for your family and children instead of spending time in the office. Then, if you don’t spend as much time in the office, the pay gap is suddenly explained and warranted. How much time do women have to live? It seems like the countdown of when a woman expires to society starts right before puberty and ends right before full adulthood. When is a woman’s prime? Their teens? Their 20s? It’s impossible not to feel the constant fear of getting older when you have no time to enjoy the now. So much of most women’s lives are spent trying to prevent the inevitable, all because we refuse to see women as more than their age.

So, to the rest of us who don’t identify as a man, we are just brought into this world to have to live with the consequences. There’s a quote from Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag that may have been intended as a joke but actually rings true in many aspects, “Women are born with pain built in, it’s our physical destiny.” Whether or not one identifies as a woman, if they are perceived by the world at large as a woman, then they instantly carry the inherent baggage of responsibility. They instantly owe many different things to many different people – they owe marriage to their families, children to their spouses, beauty to the world, etc. Suddenly their value does not come from their own being but from what their body can offer. We are expected to become, as Taylor Swift puts it, “a never-needy, ever-lovely jewel” – an ornament to society.

As a lesbian woman from Southeast Asia, the cultural and societal responsibilities of heterosexual marriage and bearing children are constantly looming over me. Growing up, I was told that producing children was gravely important to my culture and that continuing my family’s bloodline was a must, not an option. Even at 10 years old, dining table conversations would consist of my parents giving my sisters and me advice on what kind of man we should marry and what kind of houses would be most suitable for us and our future kids. I remember attending the funeral of one of my distant relatives once and my mom pointing to people gathering together and celebrating. She said, “Look. In Batak culture, if all the kids of the person who died have successfully built families of their own, then that means the person who died will be happy in heaven and people will celebrate, even if they are dead. Otherwise, the death of the person cannot be celebrated because it can be said that they have not lived their full life.”

On top of that, my parents were not born wealthy. I did not come from a family who could easily pull money out of trust funds and hand it over to me. My parents and their parents had to work tirelessly so that I could have a roof over my head, have food on the table every day, go to good schools and live a successful life. If my grandma can escape from poverty and endure a loveless and abusive marriage just to provide for my mother, and if my parents can sacrifice their health for years just so I could go to a school like UCLA, then why is it so hard for me to just give them one thing back by marrying a good man and having babies that they could hold in the hospital one day? Why is it so hard for me to just not be gay?

This is what the ticking time bomb in my head is counting down towards – the reality that I someday have to look my parents dead in the eyes and say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I cannot be the woman you wish I could be. I’m sorry all those years you spent working hard for me have gone to waste. I’m sorry all those prayers for me to stray away from homosexuality never made it to the God I can’t even be sure I believe in. I’m sorry that the world has taught you to believe my identity is an act of defiance. I’m sorry.

That is growing up to me.

—

Today is no longer January 8th, but I dread the day that it will be. I dread the feeling of the cold floor on my no-longer-tiny toes when I get up in the morning. I dread what the mirror in the corner of my room will show me. I dread the lack of party hats and towering cabinets and black coffee tables and pink frosting on cakes. I dread the absence of that ridiculous Snow White banner. I dread the “Happy birthday!” notifications and the recycled ugly pictures posted on friends’ social media accounts. I dread hearing all the same stories of the day my mom gave birth to me. I dread not being able to breathe in the shower. I dread having to hold in tears during phone calls. I dread having to look at childhood pictures thinking “God, when did everything change?”. I am dreading it all because 8-year-old me was wrong: growing up is not growing taller. At least not to me.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter II.

gif credit / @azertyrobaz

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Javier is slowly beginning to realize that monotony isn't as bad as he initially thought…

WORD COUNT: 9.4k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: Mutual pining, mentions of masturbation, they really wanna fuck each other, that good slowburn angst, lots of smoking, southern gothic vibes are strong with this one, if you love worldbuilding then this is the fic for you, mentions of a religion, mentions of sex workers, dbf!Javier Peña because I have no self control.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS:   The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Lexi, my beloved, who has been a BIG help in helping me figure out this crazy ass story. Love you bestie, I don't know where I'd be without you < 3 I am… so obsessed with these two and the little universe they live in… *muffled screaming* I hope everyone reading so far is having a good time because I know I am! I've got a lot in store for this pairing, and if you're a fan of the horror/thriller aspect of this plot there's a lot comin' your way ;) Anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback on this blog < 3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

It’s an extraordinarily warm day, which isn’t uncommon for the area, however it’s the type of warm that reminds her that summer is just around the corner. 

It’s Paloma’s favorite season. While the Seminary heat is unforgiving as all hell; she loves the way the sun feels against her skin, the thin layer of sweat that clings to her gives her the perfect glow and nothing beats cooling down by the creek. The town is also much more lively during the season, too, since tourists heading west often take a rest stop in in town.

It’s how she gathers most of her summer weekend crowd. People who do not expect this drive through town to be as charming as it is. While small, it has a community actively keeping it thriving. The businesses that line the streets of their downtown all owned by families who have been here for decades. A lot of love has been poured into their settlement, and while most of the time Paloma feels suffocated by the repetitiveness of her days, she’ll always have a soft spot in her heart for her hometown.

She’s become the performer that she is by staying here. Her shows at The Whiskey Fox have been the perfect training grounds for her to get a comfortable grasp on her stage presence, which aside from singing, is the most important thing about being a musician. An aspiration that she keeps to herself, mostly, just telling those who ask that she’s doing this ‘singing thing’ as a hobby. That her ‘real job’ would be going full time at the library.

That is her plan, the future she damns herself with. As quick-witted and rambunctious as Paloma can be; she’s still not valiant enough to take control of her own life.

Instead, she’s at the beck and call of her father’s.

It is much easier this way, she justifies it to herself like that all the time. If she goes out into the world, pursues her want to be a musician; there’s a chance that she fails and has to return home with her tail tucked between her legs like a shameful dog. At least staying here in Seminary provides her with a stability to keep her content for the rest of her life.

But would she really be content? Would she regret not trying and potentially not even failing?

Paloma bikes the familiar path from her house down into town, woven bag with her belongings in the basket that’s zip tied to the front of the bicycle she’s had since she was in high school. There’s a small grocery list and an even smaller to-do list accompanying her things; a brown paper bag with her father’s lunch also tossed in there.

When Darla, her 1970 Buick Electra, officially died on her; she hated having to bike everywhere. Her father was able to take her places whenever he could, but most of the time it was just Paloma and her bike against the world. 

The sheriff even made the suggestion of sending one of the deputies to escort her wherever she pleased, but she despised the idea of having an officer always following her around. So after a few awkward car rides to and from town; she decided it’d be more convenient for her to bike it until further notice. The only time she requests an escort is after a closing shift at the library or a show at the bar. 

The most peaceful part of the trek is riding over the abandoned railroad tracks near the old train station. Something about the scenery; being surrounded by the lush forest with nothing but her and her thoughts for miles and miles is very comforting to Paloma, so whenever she arrives at this little landmark of hers, she makes a point to stop and soak it all in. 

On days like this, where she doesn’t have much to do; she stays for a while.

Paloma approaches the familiar tracks, stopping entirely and propping her bicycle against a nearby tree. She pops a Linda Ronstadt CD into her portable player, the headphones slipping over her ears as she approaches the tracks. The sound of the gravel crunching beneath her boots is muffled out by the soft country tunes that begin to play. Paloma sits right on the track, a little unorthodox but she doesn’t care. Using her bag as a makeshift pillow, she lays flat and looks up at the sky until her eyes shut close; sighing wistfully as she slips away into another world entirely.

She has been struggling to finish any of her music lately, inspiration lackluster to the point where she’s had to revert to covering songs instead of performing original material at the bar. It is frustrating, to say the least, especially when she knows she is more than capable of writing a good song.

There just hasn’t been much happening that warrants a spark in her passion. No romantic love to pour her heart over, no life-altering event to process with instruments and lyrics. Nothing exciting.

She was in a rut…

That was until a few days ago.

Mind seemingly wanders over to the handsome man that had been in her family home.

Those dark brown, intense eyes that had her flustered any time they made eye contact, the strong cut of his jaw and how it flexed when he spoke, lips that looked so inviting underneath the mustache that she hates she’s so attracted to.

This is the first time any man has left such an impression on Paloma. She sighs softly, remembering how she was harping on her own father for bringing out the fancy scotch in order to impress Javier.

“Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel.”

Now she understands why. Aside from being nice to look at— she found herself completely engaged in any conversation he partook in. While he was not a man of many words, the few that he did have had her feeling like a freshman schoolgirl crushing on a senior athlete.

She is particularly interested in the fact that he had lived in Colombia for a better part of however many years; curiosity bubbling anytime he mentioned anything about his time there. She is envious that he has been able to experience a country filled with such culture and ecological beauty, even though she understands that the nature of his job probably didn’t entail to him sightseeing much. 

That’s another thing; he was very vague about what his role was down there. All Paloma knows is that he was a DEA agent, responsible for cornering one of the most notorious drug traffickers to exist in the modern world. One thing led to another and now he’s back in the United States as a Deputy Sheriff for a small town in the middle of fuck-knows-where Texas. 

It intrigued her to know his backstory and how that led him here. What all he’d done and witnessed, even if it wasn’t any of her business.

She finds it fascinating and it adds a layer of mystique to his persona.

Then her thoughts begin to turn into something more… naughty as she imagines the way his mouth wrapped around the colored end of the cigarette, his fingers flexing around the drinking glass before downing its contents in one swift movement, tongue peering out to lick at his lips. Fuck, her eyes flutter open and she squints slightly as the sun beams down on her. Her skin is warm, just how she likes it, buzzing with excitement at the image of the older man nuzzled in between her thighs, teasing her until she was at his mercy. 

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, fingers slowly trailing down her torso then drumming along the exposed skin of her lower stomach. The thought of moving her digits beneath the fabric of her panties crosses her mind for a split second before she remembers where she is. Not that she would be interrupted at this time of day but she has to have some shame, right? It’s already bad enough that she’s fantasizing about him, no need to fuel that fire by touching herself in plain daylight.

Paloma sits up, removing the headphones from over her ears and twisting her body to reach into her bag as she pulls out her notebook and pencil, a sudden stroke of inspiration striking her.

Javier lazily leans back against the leather chair he’s sat in, typical cigarette dangling from his lips as he scans the report in front of him, brows pulled in to a frown as he half ass reads it. He’s only been in Seminary for a week and it hadn’t taken him long to fall into routine. 

He gets up early to exercise, finding the time in his day to be able to do that again, eats what he considers a ‘healthy�� breakfast (it’s just toast and eggs… maybe some fruit if he’s really feeling it) then heads to the sheriff’s department. The day drags by until he’s at home again. He spends the evenings glued to his couch, takeout remnants on the table, nursing a beer and watching reruns until he goes to bed.

That is the part he dreads the most. The night time. Javi has always had trouble sleeping, but his time in Colombia only made the insomnia worse. He’ll stare at the ceiling, replaying all his fuck ups over and over until day breaks and soft sunlight seeps into his room. 

On the nights where he does manage to fall asleep, it’s restless and doesn’t last very long as he jerks awake from whichever nightmare decides to plague him that night. He has a few that revisit him often, involving Helena and how things ended with her. Others about Carillo and his untimely death.

It is quite a vicious cycle that he has not been able to break himself free from. It was much more easier to get ahold of it back in Colombia where he could go pay for a distraction at a brothel or bury himself in the demanding job.

Here, there isn’t a damn thing he can bury himself in.

Well, there’s one person he’d love to find a distraction in but fucking the sheriff’s daughter just to get some sleep is not the best move for him to make considering he’s trying to be a better person nowadays.

There is barely anything happening at the station. The few deputies employed are constantly out on patrol, which Javi had recently revamped by giving new routes for them to follow. A task he’d conjured out of pure boredom yet left Sheriff Leighton impressed by his proactiveness.

Furthermore, the department is left partially empty with just himself, Romeo and Lorraine holding down the fort. 

With no further updates in the ongoing homicide cases; there isn’t much to do. He isn't in the mood to go make small talk with the locals, and he’s already driven and familiarized himself with most of the roads within town limits, so he’s stuck in this building for the time being. 

The sheriff had reiterated many times not to expect the same hustling and bustling he experienced back in Bogotá or Medellín. A fact that he knew when coming in, but experiencing it is just so damn grueling.

Instead of going home and bullshitting there, Javier decides to be responsible and help Lorraine reorganize their filing system. It is outdated to all hell and messier than anything he and Murphy could have ever conjured up at the embassy, but in attempts to be a more… responsible person, he tells the front desk clerk to not worry about a thing and that he’d handle it all himself.

He might have gone in over his head, but they’re just files. The tedious task something he is very familiar with. Javi had done his fair share of mindless tasks during his DEA days.

He’s at his desk, an unused one he plucked from the center of the room and moved over into a corner that gave him just a pinch of privacy. Romeo apologized about the lack of space for a private office, but Javi didn’t mind it. Being in an office is stifling; and he enjoys, for the most part, being out in the open. 

Also, Lorraine is great company. Very unfortunate that she shares the name with his ex-fiancée.

Javier sets the sheet of paper he’s reread a dozen times down, ashing his cigarette and scratching at his nose with his thumb when he hears the sound of the front door opening. 

His eyes lazily trail over to the entrance and an immediate smirk tugs at his lips, crease between his brows disappearing.

Paloma Leighton.

Oh, how he’s been thinking about her since that night he had dinner over at their house. How wrong it is of him to be pining after a woman like her.

It is not that difficult to capture Javier’s attention, he is very self aware in that regard. As long as you were interested; you were pretty much on his radar.

Javier loves women. He loves the way they look, the way they smell. Their soft moans and pants in response to his coaxing, how their nails feel digging into the soft skin of his shoulders as they come down from an intense orgasm. 

Can anyone blame him for being so attracted to them all the time? Women are a godsend.

He watches her carefully as she saunters over to his desk that’s on the opposite side to where her father’s office is. 

“Now, Miss Leighton— to what do I owe this pleasure?” He asks, taking another drag of his cigarette as he keeps his position leaned back in his chair.

With an air of curiosity, he casts a lingering gaze over her figure, his lips moistening involuntarily as he drinks her in.

She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts that hug her in all the right places and a halter top with an exposed back. She isn’t wearing a bra so her stiff nipples are prominent against the fabric. The sight gets him stirring below his belt, and he has to keep smoking in order to keep his antsy hands off of her. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” She throws the typical line at him with a smirk.

“I forgot my camera at home. Mind comin’ back to mine, cariño? I’ll make sure to take the prettiest pictures.” He ashes the cigarette, flirtatious as ever despite telling himself he was not going to go down this route.

But there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting, right? Especially not when she’s playing into it.

“Clever, charming and cocky. I’m startin’ to sense a pattern here, cowboy.”

“And what would that pattern be?” 

“M’still figurin’ that out, unfortunately.” There’s a brief pause, “Those things’ll kill you.” Paloma changes the subject, nodding her head towards his nicotine stick.

“I’m going to die eventually.” Javier rebuttals and she just hums, honey colored eyes watching as he takes another long drag.

Javi is thankful that Lorraine had left early today. He's certain that this little conversation of there's would have played out differently had there been a third person in the room.

Maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all and he would have been stuck thinking about her like a perverted fool.

“S’that why you’re here? To criticize me smoking?” His toned biceps flex as he brings his hands behind his neck, fingers interlocking and cigarette hanging from in between his lips.

“No, just stopped by to drop off daddy’s lunch before I ran some errands. That man wouldn’t eat if it weren’t for me.” Now it’s her turn to do the ogling, her gaze traveling from the cigarette to his arms, eyes sparkling down at him.

“Sheriff isn’t in right now.” He informs her but something tells him she already knew this. Her brows raise at the news and she shrugs. 

“‘Course he ain’t. Probably already went down to Carl’s for lunch. I keep tellin’ him his arteries are gonna get all clogged up if all he eats is greasy burgers and beer.” Javier can sense a hint of irritation in her voice.

“So just let him. He’s a grown man, M’sure he doesn’t need nor want his daughter looking out for him every second of the day.” He interjects, watching her carefully as she rolls her eyes. 

Her hair is in two neat braids, bangs framing her beautiful face leaving the entirety of her back exposed to him. A few droplets of sweat slowly roll down her spine and he imagines himself licking them right up; preferably while he has her bent over his desk. 

“Well if I don’t do it then who will? He’d barely last a week on his own.” Despite being irritated, Javier catches how she genuinely seems to care for her father so with that, he decides to not meddle in their family business and instead moves on swiftly.

“You know him better than I do.” He leaves it at that, finishing his cigarette, “Heard you got a show comin’ up” And when he says ‘heard’ what he really means is listening to everyone else rave about the sheriff's daughter's incredible talent and how he simply must attend one of her performances.

That sparkle in her eye glistens brighter at the mention of her show and she nods, “Yup,” pops the ‘p’, fiddling with the pens he’s stuffed into his faded DEA mug, her body turned slightly to face him. “Every Friday and Saturday. Will we be blessed by your presence, Mr. Peña or are you going to hide out in your trailer home all weekend?” Hearing his last name coming from her has his jaw ticking ever so slightly and he watches her eyes take notice of it.

Paloma likes it.

“Dunno. Gotta check my schedule, querida. Things tend to get crazy ‘round here. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Well… if you do decide to find some time in that busy schedule of yours; the show starts at six both nights.” And who was he to deny her? Especially as she bats her eyelashes at him, an unspoken way of letting him know she wants to see him there.

The front door bell dings, announcing the arrival of someone new, interrupting the comfortable pause of silence they were sharing. 

That someone new is the sheriff, and Paloma immediately rises from her spot on the edge of his desk, making her way to her father. Javier straightens up, picking up the previously discarded sheet and feigning interest in it; but Romeo doesn’t seem to notice a thing. He looks deep in thought.

“There ya are. I brought you lunch.” Paloma calls after him but he’s already in his office. She lets out a sigh, looking over her shoulder at Javier whom she catches getting an even better view of her ass.

“See you around, Mr. Peña. Maybe you should start carrying around that camera of yours. Y’know… to get all them pretty pictures.” She makes a point to sway her hips as she walks away and he runs his tongue over his front teeth slowly.

This girl is going to get him into trouble.

At least he won’t be so fucking bored anymore.

Paloma leaves the building twenty minutes after getting her father to agree to eat the lunch she brought and not go down the street to the local diner. He seemed pretty distant so she didn’t press him like she usually would, instead giving him a peck on the cheek before leaving his office.

Her gaze wandered over to the opposite corner, hoping to find Javier sitting in his seat already watching her but he was nowhere to be found.

She felt a slight pang of disappointment in her gut at his absence but she pushed it down, a budding smile on her lips at the thought of seeing him at her show. 

She doesn't even care that the man is older than her, she’s down bad for him. 

Paloma swings her leg over her bicycle, kicking the kickstand inwards and riding down the street towards the farmer’s market until she’s stopped by a familiar voice calling her name.

“Paloma!” It’s Sloane, who’s jogging to catch up with her. 

Sloane McCarthy is the only best friend that Paloma has ever had. Like, ever.

Growing up, she was a very shy child and only had the typical schoolyard friends, but not any that she would willingly swap secrets with or any of that other stuff girls usually do within their social circles.

After her mother’s death, Paloma became more of an introvert. She didn't maintain a friendship outside of school, instead all her focus and energy was put into her artistry. To her, instruments were her best friends. They would always be there to listen, to help her navigate through her grief alongside coming into her own without a mother to guide her through the trials and tribulations of girlhood. 

As lonely as it sounds, it was probably for the best that she chose her musical hobbies to be what got her through the hard times. It allowed her to navigate the creation process at her own pace, figure out her strengths and work on her weaknesses.

She is grateful, however, for the guidance she received from Tammy, Kristy and Lola: the sisters that owned The Whiskey Fox.

They helped fill the void left barren by her mother, Abilene, and were the ones who convinced her to start performing at their bar when she was only fourteen.

Paloma met Sloane a few months ago at the library. She had come in with two other guys whom she can barely remember now, asking her about Seminary’s selection on books about the occult. There are hardly any, she had replied, since this town is too obstinate to allow many books on those matters on their library shelves.

Ever since that afternoon, they hit it off and began to hang out together more regularly. Paloma had even hooked her new friend up with a job as a bartender.

She stops, steadying herself as the girl hugs her from the side then rounds the bike to stand in front of her.

“Hey Slo, whatcha up to today?” Paloma asks, eyeing the book in her friend’s possession before meeting her gaze.

Sloane possesses a striking beauty. Waves of rich brown hair cascade down to her collarbone, framing her face like a halo. Her button nose, perfectly proportioned, adds a charming innocence to her features.

But it’s the freckles that truly distinguish Sloane’s features, far more pronounced than Paloma's. They form constellations upon her round face, like tiny stars scattered across a canvas of porcelain skin. And above them, her signature touch: baby blue eyeshadow delicately applied across both eyelids, enhancing the color of her brown eyes.

Paloma found herself being envious of Slo and comparing her beauty to that of her best friend’s; especially when she was the main one being approached whenever they went out.

Not that Paloma cared about male attention, however, she still felt that pang of rejection deep in her belly each time Slo was being hit on while she was left making small talk with the bartender or waitress, depending on where they were.

It wasn’t because she wasn’t attractive, anyone could tell you that Paloma is one of the most beautiful women in town; but more so because of who her father is. Sometimes, men don’t approach her in fear of being shot at by the sheriff. It can be very frustrating, but it does help keep the creeps away.

“Well… ”  She drags out, “I went to the library to look for ya, but Olsen said you didn’t work today so I’ve just kinda been roamin’ town… hopin’ to run into ya before poppin’ up to your place unannounced. What are you so smiley for?” Her bubbly and chirpy southern accent reminds Paloma of the bright smile she’s still sporting.

“Just havin’ a good day, s’all. Why are you lookin’ for me?” She questions, deciding not to tell Sloane about her infatuation with newly appointed Deputy Sheriff Javier Peña just yet, gaze once more flickering down to the thick book in her grasp.

“‘Cause, babygirl, I got the answers to all those existential questions you think up in that pretty little head of yours,” she shows off the printed work, “Right here. Got a sec?” with the look Sloane gives her, Paloma knows she can’t say no.

So they situate themselves on a nearby bench, her bicycle propped up against the backside of it. Sloane turns to her, their knees knocking against each other as she begins to explain.

“Ya know my friend August? He wrote that poem I showed you a few weeks ago… the one that had your face as red as a ripe tomato.” She pokes fun at her, pinching her thigh which Paloma swats away playfully.

“It was more explicit than anticipated, but yes I know who you’re talkin’ about. Didn’t he come in with you that one day? In the library?” She just barely remembers him, since he hadn’t said much; just browsed the shelves with the other guy as Slo did all the talking.

“Sure did! Well, he’s written a few books, none of them published…. they’re more so for record keepin’. However, I told him you were… a fan of his work—”

“Fan is a bit of a stretch, don’t ya think?” She snorts, stare flickering over to Slo. 

“— So he asked me to share this with you. It’s his prized possession.” She continues, eyes twinkling as she slides the book over to Paloma.

Paragons of the Sacrificed

By Augustus Rutherford Dixon

“Augustus? What a name.” Is the first thing Paloma notices, thumbing through the book and scanning some of its contents. “This reads like a manifesto, I’m not sure I’m all that interested.” She tells her, closing the item shut and attempting to give it back.

Sloane blocks her from doing so, shaking her head. “No ma’am, you’re gonna read through it. I promise you’ll enjoy it. I know how you like to get lost in your books and music… this is right up your alley.”

She seems almost desperate as she makes her case, so Paloma reluctantly keeps the book in her lap.

“Right up my alley. What exactly does that mean?”

“You know… the adventurous fantasy stuff. He’s really into religion and history but not in a weird, bible thumpin’ way how the people ‘round here tend to be. Eye openin’ stuff… real, tangible things that make you want to pack up all your shit and get the hell outta dodge.”

Slo doesn’t have to say much after that, it’s as if she knew exactly what words to say to get Paloma to be more open minded about reading the book. She chews on the inside of her cheek, eyes falling to her lap and she sighs, giving in.

“Sure, why the hell not. If it’s crappy, though, and you waste my time I swear I’m gonna get it back in blood.” She teases, nudging Sloane with her elbow. 

“Oh please, I wouldn’t be bringin’ this to ya if I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Sloane was right. This book is right up her alley.

After getting over the initial wariness of the man’s introduction, she is fully immersed in the historical events he writes about as well as the practices of an unorthodox religion that’s been on the rise, according to him, since the birth of Christianity.

Her relationship with religion in general is pretty unadorned. Paloma is a practicing Catholic, just like the majority in Seminary, and she attends mass every Sunday with her father.

It’s enervating, in a way, but she knows just how much it means to Romeo for her to accompany him every week so she does it just to pacify him. Now whether she’s as devoted as she makes herself out to be is a completely different story.

She’s not. Paloma believes in a greater being; but not in the same manner that organized religion does.

It would quite literally break her father’s heart if he heard her say that out loud.

August is a talented writer, his words transporting her entirely while also making his message concise and informative. Paloma’s been tucked away in her room, obsessively reading the book for about three hours when the landline in her room suddenly rings and it makes her jolt out of surprise.

The clock on her nightstand indicates that it’s nine p.m. and she blinks away the sudden tiredness at the realization. Inserting her bookmark on the page she’s currently reading, she closes the book and reaches over to pick up the receiver and wedges it between her ear and shoulder.

“Paloma speakin’.”

“Hola, hermosa.” Javier’s voice cuts right through her and she’s instantly smitten, the book she was so engrossed in not even a minute ago now forgotten.

“You sweet talk every girl you meet with Spanish endearments?” She can't help but ask, feeling the flutter of the butterflies in her stomach at how he flirts. Between his sultry southern accent and alluring dash of Spanish; Paloma can’t decide which one she likes to hear more.

She hears him shuffling on his end of the phone, “Why? You don’t like it, cariño?”

The Spanish. She definitely prefers the Spanish.

“I do. It’s different.” She twirls the telephone cord around her index finger,  “You call just to shower me in pet names?”

He chuckles, the deepness of it having her bite down on her lower lip.

“No, I was hoping I could speak to your father.” This makes her frown slightly, but also what other reason would he have to call their house at this time of night?

Call for her? Talk her through an orgasm through the phone, telling her to imagine his fingers instead of hers and whispering those goddamn pet names until she’s panting; wailing out for him? Or even better: offer to come by to get her out of the dry spell she’s been under before her father made it back home?

Both so appealing. Both so ridiculously out of this world.

She realizes she’s been quiet longer than intended, so she snaps out of her sudden wet daydream, speaking up.

“He’s out with some friends from the bar. Don’t anticipate him comin’ back home till way later so you’re just goin’ to have to catch him at his office tomorrow, Mr. Peña.”  She had taken notice of the way he was so bothered by her calling him by his last name earlier that she does it again, just to fuck with him.

“You make me feel so old callin’ me that.” He scoffs and her smile doesn’t budge.

“Well aren’t you?” She fuels the teasing, wondering how far she could push it before the fire she’s been harboring burns her.

“You really want to play this game, corazón?”  

“Maybe…”

There’s a swift pause, all that’s heard is both of their breaths on either side of the line. Paloma braces herself for whatever racy event decides unfold but he breaks the silence first.

“Just be a sweetheart and tell your dad I called. Have a good night, nena.” He doesn't even give her the opportunity to give a closing remark, the dial tone ringing in her ears before she pulls the phone away and sets it back into place.

She hadn't realized how tightly her thighs had been clenched throughout that whole exchange. It’s embarrassing how her body reacts to him. Whether it just be his voice or his presence itself. 

Paloma groans, standing from her bed and deciding to shower to calm herself down, August’s book being placed on her nightstand next to the landline.

Javier walks in to the crowded bar much later than he intended to, stuck at the station with some chatty citizen who called to complain about her neighbors dog.

This is the life he lives now. Went from tracking down dangerous sicarios to listening to elderly women bitch about pets.

He hears the rumbling music spilling out into the street upon arrival. The decently sized bar is filled with so many patrons, that it took him a second to recognize it. Honest to God. 

Javier has definitely underestimated Seminary. It becomes clearer the longer he's here. While he does find himself complaining about the monotony most of the time, he’s slowly but surely easing into it.

He finally makes it to the bar and orders himself his drink. Dark eyes scan the crowd until they land on the stage where the first person he notices is Paloma; dressed to the nines with a bright smile. A smile he mimics as he watches her strum her guitar, the three other woman sing along with instruments of their own adhered to their bodies.

She isn’t currently singing, just adding in to the instrumental of a song that he doesn’t recognize. After paying for his drink, he maneuvers the crowd until he finds Romeo sitting front and center, swaying along to the music with nothing but adoration in his eyes for his daughter. 

When he sees Javier approaching, his entire face lights up.

“Javi, my man! You made it.” The two share a friendly handshake as Javier sits down in the empty seat besides him, digging in his leather jacket for a smoke. 

“Woulda been here earlier but had a Margaret Lipton call complainin’ about how her neighbors dog won’t stay on its side of the fence.” He grumbles, lighting the cigarette and taking a lengthy drag as the song finishes.

“Sounds just like her. Expect a lot more’a those. Poor woman is just lonely; her husband of fifty years died not too long ago. Ever since then she’s been callin’ nonstop over petty shit. She’ll complain if a fly buzzes by, I tell ya.” Romeo adds on, taking a sip from his drink and this gets a brief chuckle from Javier, making a mental note to limit his calls with one Margaret Lipton.

The next song begins, a very lively country tune that immediately shifts the atmosphere of the already buzzing bar. People begin to flood the dancefloor in front of the stage, but it doesn’t obstruct his view from the person that he’s here to see. He watches as she strums her instrument before approaching the microphone.

♫

Her voice is so rich and smooth, ears perk up at the angelic singing and he takes a swig of his whiskey, eyes not leaving her for a second.

She shoots a wink towards their table, and while Javier knows it’s directed to the man besides him, he can’t help but be selfish enough to think that’s it’s meant for him. 

That her attention is all for him.

The music picks up, he can feel it embedding itself in his bones and he’s so entranced by watching her perform that he just barely notices when Romeo leans over to talk to him.

“Swear I’ve never been more proud of her.” Javi peels his gaze away from her before the man notices how he’s basically eye fucking his daughter.

“Does she usually write her own songs?” He can't help but ask, her voice ringing out passionately as the song continues.

“Majority of ‘em. Always got her nose stuffed in one’a her journals. When she’s not writin’, she’s at the piano or on the porch with her guitar. Melts my heart every time I see it.” 

Javier doesn’t say much in response, intrigued to hear how her voice sounds when it’s just her singing.

Paloma reproaches the microphone after the long instrumental that had the crowd dancing along to the upbeat country track concludes.

“My daddy warned me about men like you He said, "Baby girl, he's playing you! He's playing you!”

She sings with a vigor he was not expecting, making eye contact with him and he catches the way her red-stained lips pull into a smirk.

Just like that, she has captivated him all over again. 

Under the stage lights, Paloma radiates with an otherworldly glow. Clad entirely in black, she stands out against the band’s more colorful attire. A leather miniskirt, paired with sleek black stockings, hugs her form, the oversized silver buckle of her belt gleaming beneath the spotlight pointed at the stage.

Her leather jacket, mirroring the skirt, features intricate silver detailing that catches and reflects the light with every movement. Beneath it, she wears nothing but a black bra, veiled by a sheer mesh top that adds a layer of sexiness to her ensemble.

Atop her head sits a black cowgirl hat and it wouldn’t be Texas if she wasn't wearing her cowgirl boots, tying everything together.

They drag the last lyric out with the rattle of the drum’s percussion before the song officially ends and bar erupts into a boisterous applause. The women take turns hugging and congratulating each other, though his focus is solely on Paloma. He doesn’t even acknowledge when Romeo gets up to get them all another round of drinks.

“Well, folks, I reckon y’all just witnessed a taste of the good ol’ honky-tonk spirit tonight. Ain’t nothin’ like harmonizin’ with the talented Lone Star Sisters. Let’s raise a toast to good music, good company, and good times at The Whiskey Fox — where the spirits are high and the music’s just right!” The bar laughs and this gets a bemused chuckle out of Javier, who stubs out the cigarette he’d been puffing on throughout the performance.

After a few more formalities and some announcements, she disappears for a brief moment before he spots her again, this time heading in his direction.

She’s stopped a few times along the way by some patrons who simply cannot get over her and her performance.

All Javier does is admire and be amused at how they treat her like she’s a celebrity. Even watches as she signs a slip of paper and crouches down to give it to a little girl. The interaction has his heart racing so he downs the drink in front of him to slow it down.

The adrenaline that Paloma feels after a show is indescribable. It’s like she transforms when she’s up there, giving it her all and making sure that the crowd is being entertained to the fullest extent. It’s why she absolutely loves it when she sees everyone dancing, she's even spotted a few people singing along to some of the original songs she performs regularly.

It’s an even better feeling when she gets off stage and is being praised left and right; it makes her feel like the art she puts out is important as it’s being appreciated by everyone and not just those in her immediate circle. What really melts her heart, though, is when she sees the gleam in the eyes of the younger girls who come see her play. As if they’re looking up to her, seeing their own aspirations performing out on the stage. Knowing that she’s somewhat of a role model to them is all she needs to stay content in her passion for creating music.

After finally getting through the crowd of… admirers (she doesn’t like calling them fans; it feels odd), Paloma reaches the table her father always sits in but is pleasantly surprised to see just Javier there.

“You came.” She doesn't even try to hide the large smile on her face, heart still beating wildly in her chest due to the high energy performance.

“Found a small window of opportunity in my very busy schedule to be able to make it. You’re lucky, hermosa.” He teases and she laughs with a shake of her head, shaking off the leather jacket on her shoulders and removing the hat that sits on her head.

It is entirely too hot for her to sport it for the rest of the evening, so she drapes the jacket over the back of the chair and lets her hat hang over the corner of it.

“You’re a damn good singer.”

The compliment has those butterflies stirring in her stomach again. Paloma won’t admit that she made sure to be on her game tonight in anticipation of his attendance. She doesn’t want to come off as desperate, despite how flirtatious their interactions have been since they met.

“You sayin’ that ‘cause you mean it or are you just tryin’ to become my groupie?” She cocks her head to the side slightly, sliding into the seat across from him and crossing her legs. She bites her lip as she watches his eyes divert down to her thighs; the top of her stockings showing and a soft slither of her skin teasing him to reach out and touch.

“I genuinely mean it, but being your groupie doesn’t sound half bad.” Paloma giggles, scrunching her nose and he smiles at her.

Why does she feel like she’s drunk off him? What the hell does he lace his attention with?

Romeo returns right on time, setting down three glasses on the small, round table.

“Alright, a bourbon for me, whiskey for Javier and a root beer with muddled cherries for my beautiful daughter.” She reaches for her drink, ignoring the look Javier gives her and she takes a lengthy sip from the straw; the carbonation feeling so refreshing as it travels down her throat.

“No post-performance drink?” He asks her, fingers once more fishing out his cigarettes and lighter.

“I only drink on occasion. Try not to do it when I sing unless I need to loosen up the good ‘ol pipes.” Two fingers tap against her throat to emphasize her point, his dark eyes trailing the area and she knows his soft lips would feel divine against her warm skin.

The trio fall into small talk for all but five minutes when Javier’s pager buzzes in his jacket pocket. He excuses himself from the table and he saunters away to the pay phone outside of the bar. Paloma’s gaze follows him all the way out, sound of her father talking muffled as he overtakes her thoughts.

Javier digs into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a few coins to insert into the public telephone then punching in the familiar number of his former partner. The line rings three times before Murphy picks up.

“We got him.”

The words knock the wind out of him and he stabilizes himself by sticking his hand out to lean against the payphone stand.

“Alive or dead?”

“Trujillo shot the fucker right between the eyes.”

He presses the phone against his forehead at the news, eyes closing as he allows it to fully sink in. He knows he should be relieved… that the weight on his shoulders should dissipate now that Pablo Escobar is dead.

Not in custody or cornered. No, dead.

Yet he isn’t relieved. Not as much as he would have wanted to be. It’s a bittersweet feeling, really. They can rejoice now that they got one dirty narc over and done with but if Javier has learned anything in the past years— it’s that this war on drugs is far from over. The rest of the Medellín cartel has yet to fall and Cali just reached its peak. 

You know what they say: cut off one head and two more take its place.

But that’s no longer his problem. He had been reassigned, sent somewhere where he could chill the fuck out and start making amends for his fuckups in Colombia. His only focus now, as long as he’s concerned, is dealing with what happens in Seminary and Seminary only.

He and Steve finish their conversation, reminiscing on all the crazy ass shit they had to do and endure in order to get to this point. Steve ends the call by telling him that he should have been here to see it all the way through and that, in a strange turn of events, he was proud of everything they accomplished together despite the bullshit that ensued.

Javier doesn’t say much, as per usual, but he doesn’t have to. Steve knows he’s appreciative. 

Fingers itch to pluck out another cigarette but he goes against the urge, instead collecting himself before reentering the bar.

Paloma was left alone shortly after Javier left to take his phone call, her father pulled away by his buddies while she finished up the rest of her drink.

When Javier does return, she immediately notices the change in his demeanor but doesn’t know how to ask him what’s wrong without coming off as bothersome.

“Everythin’ good?” Is what she decides on, leaning in to rest her chin on the palm of her hand as her elbow sits on the perpetually sticky top of their table.

“Everything’s alright, muñeca.” He takes his seat again, still being flirtatious but there’s an edge to it. He grabs his drink and swishes its contents around the glass before downing it all in one swift shot.

Paloma doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t get the chance to when her father returns to them.

“I gotta go handle some shit that’s poppin’ off with the Sullivan’s. Go get your things, baby, we’re leavin’.” This pulls a groan from the back of her throat.

“I do not want to tag along while you deal with whatever the fuck they got goin’ on. Not after last time.” Very rarely does she tag along with her father when he’s on the job; and last time they had been called to the Sullivan farm— she didn’t expect to be there for almost three hours trying to help calm down Mrs. Sullivan, who was threatening to shoot her husband with their shotgun.

The conversation seems to intrigue Javier, eyes darting between the both of them as he begins to smoke again.

“Well, you’re gonna have to hitch a different ride, then.”

“That’s no problem, Mr. Peña will take me.” They both look over to Javi as she’s just volunteered him to drive her home.

“Paloma—”

“It’s fine, Romeo. Go handle it, I’ll make sure she makes it home safely.” His thumb drags against his bottom lip as he stares right back at her and his intense gaze has her shifting in her seat, the familiar feeling of arousal shooting heat up core.

It doesn’t take much convincing to send the sheriff on his merry way, her body tingling at the idea of being alone with Javier in his truck as he takes her home.

“You gonna make sure m’fine? That I make it home safe and sound?” Paloma asks with a bat of her eyelashes, leaning close enough to where their knees brush up against each other beneath the table.

He follows her lead, leaning forward and taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from her face. “S’what I’m here to do, princesa. Make sure beautiful girls like you stay safe.”

There’s still some bite to his words but it’s hot the way he flirts with her. She catches the scent of his musky cologne mixed with the liquor and cigarettes he's consumed and it’s intoxicating.

“I thought I told you these things’ll kill you.” She plucks the nicotine stick from between his middle and index fingers, putting the thing out against the ashtray.

“And I thought I told you I’m gonna die eventually.”

“Try not to make it anytime soon.”

“Why? Would you miss me, cariño?” His brows raise inquisitively as he asks her, brown eyes twinkling beneath the dim lighting. 

Paloma shrugs, sliding out of her seat. “Probably not. I’ve just met you.” She replies nonchalantly, despite her head spinning from how badly she wants him. She grabs ahold of her jacket and hat, “I’m going to go pack up my things. Meet me in the back alleyway in ten.”

After getting her stuff into the back of his truck and watching her say goodbye to everyone, Paloma is sat in the passenger seat as Javier drives along the familiar road towards her house.

It’s quiet at first, the radio playing some song softly to fill the void from the absence of conversation.

“So… you got a girlfriend?” Her question catches him off guard and he actually laughs in her face. “Or boyfriend— I don’t judge.” She raises her hands defensively.

“Why, you tryin’ to apply for the spot?” Javier briefly takes his eyes off the road to look over at her, biting his tongue once he sees how she’s staring at him.

Her back is against the door, the soft hue of the radio's blue light casting a shadow across her face as she draws one knee up to her chest. She looks irresistible. Javier contemplates pulling over just to grab her by the neck and press his lips against hers.

She just rolls her eyes playfully, fidgeting with the ends of her skirt.

“Not really, just curious.” He can hear the sincerity coating her words and while he usually wouldn’t divulge in his personal life, let alone his romantic relationships, he decides to answer her truthfully.

“No girlfriend. M’not really the settle down type of guy.”

“Ah, so he’s got commitment issues…” She trails off, messing with him.

“Somethin’ like that.” He isn't offended by her assumption, since it is the truth.

“So no girlfriend back home? Or in Colombia?” 

“Why the sudden interest, princesa?”

“Just tryin’ to get to know you, cowboy.” There she goes with that nickname again and he just shakes his head softly.

“The honest truth...? No girlfriends anywhere. Lots of hookups in Colombia, though. The women there are very beautiful.”

She’s silent, which has him looking over at her again yet this time she isn’t staring back, instead looking ahead at the road in front of them.

“So you’re a slut.”

He laughs again, much more lively this time, “Most people would agree with you, yeah. But I had my reasons for sleepin’ around.”

“Aside from pleasure, what were the reasons?” Her brows raise, her arms crossing against her chest, pushing her breasts together beneath the mesh material and the sight is like something straight out of a Playboy magazine.

“Most of ‘em were informants. Prostitutes who had vital information on the criminals we were after.” 

“So in return for intel, they got to spend a night with you?”

“That was part of it.”

She hums and he flips the question on her before she starts asking about other aspects of his life in Colombia.

“What about you? Got a boyfriend— or girlfriend. I don’t judge.” He repeats her own playful words back to her, making a turn then flipping on the brights as the street lights have decreased to none; leaving them traveling down the dark back roads.

“No, not at the moment. I’ve only ever had one real boyfriend.” Paloma leans her head back against the window, eyes still trained on the emptiness of the night. “And that ended terribly so I didn’t bother trying again after that.”

Curious to know this terrible ending she speaks of, Javier proceeds to stay on topic. “Must’ve been real bad if it got you to give up entirely.”

“Yeah. His name was George. We dated in high school... can you keep a secret?” She suddenly asks, ripping her gaze from the windshield over to him. He can see her from his peripheral.

“For you, nena, of course.”

“We were supposed to get married and run off the night before graduation. Had planned the whole thing out, even bribed an officiant to wed us in the middle of the night down by the cemetery. It didn’t take him much convincin’; told us he had a soft spot for young love.” Javier doesn’t say anything in response, instead letting his silence speak for itself and allowing her to continue on with her story.

“The big night came. I was so nervous I coulda puked. Me and the officiant waited for what felt like an eternity until eventually he apologized to me and left. I cried there all night, a stupid and naive part of me hoping George would eventually show… he didn’t.” She sighs heavily and Javier wants to reach his hand out to rub comforting circles with his thumb against her thigh but he doesn’t, instead driving down the driveway.

“Found out the next day that he had left for the army. Which was so heartbreaking since that’s why he wanted to leave Seminary. He didn’t want to enlist like his brother and father had. Guess somethin’ changed his mind… haven’t heard from him since. I never told anyone about it, and the officiant passed away shortly after so…” She trails off and Javier genuinely feels for her.

However, he can relate to an extent. Not to her but to her ex. His relationship with Lorraine back in Laredo a haunting reminder of the type of man he was slowly turning into. Instead of leaving for the army, though, he’d left her at the altar to run off to Colombia.

“That’s… tough, querida.” He's never been the best at comforting and it doesn’t seem like she minds his scarce sympathy.

“It is what it is. I got over him eventually.” They roll to a stop once they’re at the house, he puts the truck in park and cuts the engine; letting a comfortable silence fall over them.

“Thank you—”

“Do you need—”

They both speak at the same time, interrupting the other and they share a laugh about it. “Ladies first.” He beckons her to continue, shifting his body slightly to face her.

“Thank you for bringin’ me home. I know I didn’t give you much of a choice.” The soft click of her seatbelt being undone brings a sense of reluctance over him, knowing that her departure is imminent and he's already dreading the moment she’s gone.

“Anytime, hermosa.” Javi's dark eyes soften, “Do you need help getting your things inside?” Paloma nods and he’s quick to hop out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for her before she even gets the chance to reach over for the handle.

“What a gentleman.” She purrs, her hand brushing against his shoulder as she walks past him to help unload her equipment.

The desire to push her up against his truck and passionately kiss her, have his hands explore every inch of her body is tempting as all hell but he shows some self restraint.

They get everything into the living room and she walks him over to the front door.

“I appreciate your help, Mr. Peña.” Paloma leans against the doorframe with a teasing simper. They’re close enough to where he can see all the small imperfections that litter her skin. His eyes taking in how beautiful she looks up close, their bodies slowly gravitating towards each other.

“You ever gonna stop callin’ me that?” He asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands landing on either sides of his hips.

The girl shrugs, blinking slowly. “Not ‘til you’re not bothered by it.” They exchange a lustful stare until he decides it’s time for him to leave before things escalate and he crosses a boundary he’s helplessly trying not to overstep.

“I’ll see you around, Miss Leighton.”  Very reminiscent to their last goodbye on this porch, her smirk softens into a smile.

“Goodnight, Javier.” One, two seconds pass before she’s leaning in to place a gentle kiss against his cheek, the feeling has his heart racing and she pulls back slowly before taking a few steps back and closing the door. 

Javier is left in a stunned silence, the small act of affection impacting him more than he would like to admit.

[yolkyeomie]

Trade Off of Gifts | Bang Chan

summary — no one knows the world of an artists as well as you do, at least that’s what you thought until he decided to show up one day

word count — 1.7k words

pairing — chan x gender neutral!reader

genre — fluff, artist!reader with a tiny hint of musician!chan (even tho he’s already a musician???)

disclaimer — just something tiny for all your fast and short topher needs !!

Being someone who is artistically gifted has its perks, leaving you to be more creatively thoughtful than most of the people around you.

The world and its people was one big incomplete painting to you, splashes of colors being splattered into its surface as you began to maneuver through it. You were the artist who determined what colors were allowed to stay and what colors no longer fit the narrative you were trying to create. It was a tiresome and even lonely job when you had to pick up a brush and bring a new color into your final masterpiece, but it was a rather exciting process nonetheless.

Different colors meant different things and different shades indicated different tones. Sometimes they’d change meanings and sometimes they’d stay the same, it always depended on how you felt that day. You could never explain exactly what everything meant to you, thinking of it as some innate feelings you were born with.

You never bothered trying to help outsiders comprehend what you meant either, as it was easier to keep it to yourself instead of giving your thoughts and feelings for the world to see.

But then somehow, you were stumbled upon by someone who shared the same views as you. Someone who saw the world in a rather similar artistic and dreamy light as you did, and they weren’t even an artist who puts pen to paper.

“That’s a nice drawing,” the stranger told you, hovering over your shoulder like a hawk to its prey. You scrambled to your feet almost immediately, pressing your art to your chest in a defensive manner. You didn’t like it when people hovered over you while you were drawing, entranced in this magical world of fantasy and possibility when you doodled on whatever surface you.

Usually, people would interrupt you when you weren’t finished, commenting on how odd everything seemed and how empty your art looked.

But then it clicked in your head, the stranger didn’t make any sort of ignorant comment on it. He simply said it was nice.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your eyes darting down to the sketch you had created.

It wasn’t anything special, a half-done headshot of one of your friends from memory. It didn’t really look like any of your friends at the time either, there wasn’t enough detail on the features for it to be recognizable of who it was. “I mean, it’s not really done or anything so it’s not the best I’ve ever created but—“

“Really?” He questioned, his eyes widening to show off the little twinkling stars in his eyes and his mouth gaping open at your response. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression, nodding your head as an answer. “You’re a really good artist, you know that? Not many of my friends can even pick up a pencil if we really wanted to, but I guess that’s not really a compliment. Is portraits the only thing you draw?”

You lifted an eyebrow as he spoke, cautiously eying him and the choice of his words. He definitely wasn’t new to the whole artist thing, there was no way he was that knowledgeable on what artists liked to hear and what they didn’t like to hear and wasn’t an artist himself.

He even called you an artist instead of a “drawer”! If that wasn’t a dead giveaway of the fact that you were in the presence of an artistically gifted person then you don’t know what was.

“Not always,” you answered him, shrugging your shoulders as you tried to come up with a decent answer. “It really depends on my mood, but I like drawing portraits of people more than anything. It gives me an excuse to look at others without seeming… creepy? You know?”

“Oh…,” he nodded, a smile donning his face as he looked up at you. “So you’re a people watcher?”

“Not exactly,” you corrected him, “I just enjoy looking at people’s faces. You know, to catch every little detail that makes them unique to themselves. Everyone’s got something about them that’s different from everyone else and drawing lets me capture their uniqueness in a form that can be treasured forever.”

“That just sounds like an over-exaggeration of people watching,” the boy insisted, a laugh escaping his lips when he caught your frustrated glare digging daggers into his skull. “I’m kidding I promise! I completely understand what you mean. So who were you drawing just now then?”

Your expression immediately falls into a grimace, hesitantly peering towards your unfinished work to your friend. “Ah… this?” You ask him, trying to stall time from explaining your latest creation to him.

Through when you looked up to the boy he only nodded at your question and gave you the brightest smile he could. “It’s… it’s a drawing of a friend. He didn’t ask me to make this or anything, but I was just using him to practice faces.”

“You’re only practicing?” the boy gasped, scooting closer to you to steal another peek of your sketch from before. “That’s crazy, I would have thought you were working on an actual project and trying to get to the final piece!”

“You flatter me too much,” you joked, giving your sketch a half-smile. You appreciated the compliments he was showering you with, but there was no way you were actually living up to those expectations in your head. Being artistically gifted had its perks yet also had its more major downfalls: creating unattainable standards for yourself that you constantly set yourself up for failure was one of them. “I still have a long way to go before I can get anywhere near where I want to be.”

“I think where you are now is a great place, you should help yourself to the compliments when you get them. You deserve them,” he commented, a wide grin stretching across his face. Watching his lips turn into a smile made you so do the same, the atmosphere around him too addicting to go to waste. “Plus, I can tell you like it when people praise you.”

“Shut up, you ruined the moment,” you hissed, jumping to your feet to shove him out of your range of sight. The boy giggled at your reaction as he forced himself to stay put, not moving a singular inch no matter how hard you pushed him. “Leave! I don’t want you around me anymore, you ruined the moment!”

The boy thought about your words for a moment, as if he was trying to determine whether or not he wanted to leave you alone. “How about this,” he offered, spinning on his heel to face you. It caught you off guard for a moment, stumbling back on your feet as he shined that same smile from earlier on to you. “I’ll leave you alone now, but you have to let me come back and talk to you about your art more.”

You snorted, “I don’t even know you, why would I do that?”

He nodded in understanding, considering your comment before holding his hand out for you to shake. “Okay then, hi! I’m Bang Chan and I want you to let me come back another day and talk to you about your art. Does this make up for the lack of acquaintanceship?”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you humor him, shaking his hand before sliding out a slightly impolite question from your lips, “Is Bang Chan asking to hang around me because he wants me to give him a free drawing? If so I’m sorry but I’m not confident enough in my skills to even make you anything if I wanted to. There’s a reason I’m practicing here you know.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified, slumping back onto the ground and laying back with a content smile. “I don’t want free art, I just want to hear you talk about your art. Maybe people watch with you from time to time.”

“I’m not a people watcher.”

“Sorry,” Chan nodded, “maybe not-people-watch with you then.”

You went silent for a moment, looking down at the sketch in your hands and glancing back towards the boy. “So that’s all? You just want to… hang out with me while I draw? No strings attached? You’re not going to ask me to draw you for free in the future or make fun of my unfinished work at all?”

He nodded in response and pointed a finger at your head. “The mind of an artist is a very interesting place to explore because not every artist has the same thought process when it comes to their creations. I want to see how we differ from each other.”

“So you’re an artist as well?” You question, your eyes widening as you slowly began to realize what he had said.

“Wouldn’t exactly say an artist,” Chan laughed, downplaying his statement as much as possible. “More of a… musician? I guess? I make songs, but that’s nothing compared to being someone who puts a pencil to paper.”

So your hunch was correct, Chan was artistically gifted! Of course, it wasn’t exactly in the way you had thought before but the mere fact that he was like you made much more sense now. “A musician is still an artist,” you tell him, “just because you’re not creating art in that sense doesn’t mean you aren’t an artist. Art comes in many different forms you know, you can’t limit it to one medium.”

“Well my form of art isn’t very… how do I say this, it isn’t—“

“—You’re embarrassed.” You finished. As expected the boy came up with as many excuses as possible, trying to drill the false act into your head but utterly failing. All you could do was laugh as you spoke, “don’t worry! It’s normal to be closed off about the things you create, I’m embarrassed to show off my art to people all of the time.”

Chan nodded, nervously fidgeting with his hair as he tried to play off his flustered actions. “I guess that’s one thing we have in common right?”

“Make that two things,” you corrected him. He turned to you with a confused glint in his eyes as you held up two fingers and grinned at him as you explained, “we’re both artists and we’re embarrassed to show people our creations. Oh the woes of being artistically gifted, am I right?”

He nodded in agreement, a cheeky smile appearing on his face once again as he repeated, “oh the woes of being artistically gifted.”

[mystiika]

i’m sorry to post so much negativity but the call out post from yesterday was necessary & for this i honestly just need to get this off my chest. i don’t have a personal & am not about to post this to fb so here we are. its more of a personal rant/vent than anything & people are more than welcome to scroll past ESPECIALLY bc this has nothing to do with rp.

it’s my personal thoughts in response to the scandal with bibi currently going on. technically it’s a couple weeks old ( ? ) & the song itself was actually released in january so i have no idea why its becoming a problem now but i only just heard about it last night. it’s been blown way out of proportion tbh but since people are making it an issue i’m gonna do my best to contribute something constructive to the conversation. note that this is highly educational about the reality of the holocaust. & both that & explanation of the scandal all lead up to my personal thoughts on the topic. there’s a lot of context that’s omitted to fit people’s narratives & i’m not about to contribute to that so this is pretty long. i also break down her korean lyric a little more than you see in the basic translations. not gonna say my translation is the most accurate one out there but i am currently studying korean & know that when you switch to english you lose a lot of nuance so it’s only natural that you’re gonna miss some stuff. but if anyone is fluent & thinks i’ve gotten something wrong then feel free to say something ! like i said i’m still just learning.

i’ll also say that if you don’t know much about the holocaust in general besides “hitler was bad & killed a bunch of jews” ( which is no fault of your own ! ) then this post might be interesting to give some more historical context you might not have learned in school.

you’re more than welcome to link people to this post for whatever reason. & i’m not sure anyone would want to, but i ask that you don’t reblog as this does include personal details about some of my family history as well as difficulties i have personally faced as the result of being jewish.

as a disclaimer: there is a heavy focus on the experience of the jewish people for obvious reasons & this in no way negates the struggles other peoples have faced. we’re not the only people that have struggled with some of these issues i mention & i don’t claim that, just as the struggles of other minority groups do not negate my own. we as a jewish people have been repeatedly silenced over the god knows how long we’ve existed so when i eventually discuss personal issues don’t come after me saying that “well you’re not the only one that had ( insert hate crime here ) happen !” i know i’m not, that’s the point of the post. but don’t dismiss me, it’s not a good look for you. also the jewish people are a minority group in most parts of the world & if you disagree, at least read the post before arguing with me about it.

trigger warnings under the cut: nazi terminology, antisemitism, ableism, homophobia, forced sterilisation, death threats, death as a general topic, genocide mention, holocaust mention, slavery mention, racism & covid mention. i also just say nazi a bunch, like a lot.

i’m going to start this off by taking this time to remind you that racism was a huge issue in ww2 & the holocaust. if anything white jews ( or just jews who had aryan features ) were able to “pass” as non-jewish far more easily than people who weren’t white or even just generally “looked” jewish. the nazis promoted xenophobia & racism against all "non-aryan" races. african & asian residents of germany, & roma people, as well as black prisoners of war. they were all victims of nazi racial policies. this included hundreds of african-german children despite having german heritage. to quote hitler, jews were seen as responsible for “bringing [ black ] people into the rhineland with the ultimate idea of bastardising the white race which they hate & thus lowering its cultural & political level so that the jew might dominate.” & anyone who wasn’t aryan was seen as “bastardising the european continent at its core.” hence the treatment of the african-german children i just mentioned.

it’s also important to mention that these racial policies did not affect white south africans, anyone white in general & europeans of gentile ancestry from other continents were all exempt. latin americans who had “obvious” germanic or white aryan ancestry were also exempt. why? because of racism. the lighter your skin, the better your chances were.

as a separate note, japanese people were considered “honorary aryans” because of the pact they signed to be a part of the axis. hitler also spoke about this in multiple public political statements, with one in particular talking about how both the japanese & chinese peoples had a right to be proud of their history & admitted that said history was “superior” to that of the german people. so as far as i’m aware, they were the only asian peoples known to have not been deliberately imprisoned or killed. but given the nazi’s treatment of other asian peoples at the time, i don’t doubt that there were a number of them who were subject to the policy anyway. again, why? because of racism.

i’m also going to take this time to mention that while the jewish people & non-white or non-white passing people were among the main targets of the holocaust, that does not negate the fact that other peoples were also heavily targeted whether it was psychologically, physically, or emotionally on top of those who were also killed in the mass genocide we heard about. most notably ( but not exclusively mind you ), this included non-heterosexual people & disabled people. disabled people were among the first to be targeted by nazis & set a precedent for the treatment of jews that would come to follow. a large portion of disabled people across europe were forcibly sterilised due to their disabilities as well a significant number of gay men that were chemically castrated by court order. we also have no idea how many of these men were also institutionalised if they didn’t agree to conform & refuse to continue their “homosexual ways”.

now that some of the historical significance racism had in the holocaust has been mentioned, the majority of the people who were upset or offended by bibi’s use of the term nazi ( which i explain more later dw ) were either of german decent or jewish, or simply third parties who wanted to support the voice of people who were hurt by its use. the fact of the matter is that the holocaust was the most recent major incident in a long line of acts of hate towards the jewish people. & by long line i mean a large majority of our holidays covers “did they try to kill us” & “did they manage to do it”. we were killed, enslaved, children were separated from families, etc... not to mention the numerous attempts to separate us from our religion & culture through repeatedly being conquered by various groups. we talk about miracle after miracle because we believe that it’s because of those miracles that we as a people survived all these things. but the fact that this is our history doesn’t mean that we don’t continue to face some these issues even now in 2021.

i think people forget how rampant of an issue antisemitism is today, media aside ( which i could write a goddamn essay about, including the rpc btw ). our synagogues are the target of bombings & shootings. even a school in toronto that my aunt works at was forced to evacuate because of a bomb threat not long ago. nazi symbolism like swastikas or general hate speech have been gratified across anything you can think of, including the walls of schools i attended growing up.

i had a coworker who had such a hatred for jewish people & anyone that said anything positive about israel that other people i worked with felt it was necessary to tell me he was talking to others, threatening that he was going to hurt or kill me because they thought it was a genuine threat to my safety. i had several of these same coworkers promise not to leave me in a room alone with said person because both they & i were afraid his guy was going to try to hurt me ( or worse ) & i nearly had a panic attack at work when they first told me about it. another incident with this same coworker happened i had taken off jewellery/accessories before work including a leather bracelet that said israel on it that i had gotten when i visited last. i was sure i had left it at work but “no one had seen it”. i found out when i went in to work 2 days later that he had taken this bracelet & hung it over the faucet of the industrial kitchen sink so it could “dry” when it was obvious that it would ( & did ) only suffer from water damage when it was likely no where near the sink when he found it. all because he wanted to destroy it & hurt me when it was clear it was something that was important to me. by this time i had been wearing that bracelet for years & afterwards it was so damaged that i had to stop wearing it for fear of it breaking. with it i also had a ring that had a jewish prayer on it which i can’t imagine he liked much either. & i genuinely think i’m lucky that he didn’t just throw them both out. when my manager continued to do nothing about him & his treatment towards me ( which inconvenienced everyone from coworkers to customers ), i left that job out of concern for my safety.

i have also had to fight & argue about the fact that jewish privilege does not exist because “the jewish people never suffered from racial profiling” ( which isn’t true since a large number of jews aren’t white anyway? ) & because there’s a lot of jewish representation in hollywood even when half of it is just perpetuating hurtful/negative stereotypes. white privilege is not jewish privilege & it’s embarrassing how many times i have had to say that. i have had people constantly dismiss these very real & upsetting experiences i’ve had because they think they or other groups have had it “worse”. i remember one night i was so upset after trying to have a conversation with “friends” about why jewish privilege wasn’t real that i literally called one of my only jewish friends crying because suddenly the fact that the fact i had to quit my job because i was scared for my safety wasn’t enough because “there are a ton of jewish directors in hollywood”. i called him because he was one of the few people i knew wouldn’t try to argue with me when i explained myself. i left that first conversation feeling so goddamn invalidated by people i trusted enough to have a conversation about something that i was already upset by, that it took me hours to calm down. i’ve found it really difficult to talk about my experiences since then because it seems any time i talk about my experiences it’s not bad enough to warrant any sort of sympathy & it turns into a conversation about the struggles other people face. i mean, someone else having a heart attack doesn’t mean i don’t need stitches on a stab wound.

on other occasions, i remember my parents sitting my brothers & i down to check in & make sure we hadn’t experienced anything bad because we were openly jewish. let me repeat that, my parents were so concerned about our well being that they asked on several different occasions if we had ever been targeted. not by family directly, but i’ve been told not to wear my star of david necklace over my shirt in case someone sees it & i’ve seen jewish friends of mine talk about them taking of their kippot ( which is like a religious hat essentially ) in certain situations because it was like having a target on their back. none of that is privileged. again, white privilege is not jewish privilege.

getting back to the holocaust for a moment, i’m not going to go into too much detail just because if i’m being honest, i don’t have that much detail to begin with. my grandfather & his family lived in greece at the time, with all of them very much so involved with & practising judaism. they’d heard of what was happening across europe because of nazis/hitler but the only person my grandfather could convince to flee the country was his cousin. every other member of that side of the family died in the holocaust & an entire part of my family tree was completely wiped out. i lost a huge part of my connection to my heritage & i struggle to connect with my greek roots because all the people who tied me to that are either are dead or were separated from it themselves by having grown up in canada.

as a kid, i also went to hebrew school. & among the many things we were taught, every single year when yom hashoah ( holocaust remembrance day ) came, we retold the story of the holocaust just as we retold the stories of all the previous times different groups tried to wipe out the jewish people. every single year we are given a reminder of what happened & hope that it may never happen again. we were taught the names of people who helped us so that we don’t forget what they did for our people, we were taught the names & stories of people who survived. we were also taught that the word nazi is the term for a people who are based around hatred. we say the term nazi because that’s what they were & still are. that name has weight & the people who were involved do not deserve to be separated from it. but we were also taught about how many of the german people themselves were the victims of hitler & what i’ll call “true” nazis. people were threatened or killed if they refused to join the regime & a lot of people had no choice. we put blame on the perpetrators of the ideals, not on the people who were doing what they thought they needed to in order to keep themselves & their families alive. we do no equate nazis with the german people as a whole because we recognise they are not the same. or at the very least that’s what i was taught.

so as background for the scandal itself, bibi is a korean hip hop artist who recently received a lot of backlash in regards to a rap verse she wrote in the song code clear ( linked HERE if you want to listen to the full song but it’s 21 minutes long so be warned ) & HERE’s a link to a tik tok showing her verse specifically though i can’t confirm the translation is perfectly accurate. the song in full is talking about the situation of the world with heavy emphasis about covid as well as a lot of mention of racism & was a collaboration project that featured 62 individual artists, only one of which was bibi.

the song overall was well received but one of the lines in bibi’s verse was “[ their hate ] is suffocating, they be like nazis”. so first i’m going to link the initial apology she posted to her instagram HERE. her personal apology on instragram was not the only one that was made, there was second apology that was later released by her company’s ceo ( who i’m also a fan of by the way, but for the life of me i can’t find an article to link with the translation of the statement ).

her intentions in the verse made it clear that she was comparing the current injustices of racism to nazi germany & everything that happened with the peoples nazis targeted. whether she knew how deep the issue of racism was within the nazi regime is unclear. honestly i don’t think she did but that’s not really the point. i think she saw the mass genocide of people that didn’t deserve it & compared that with the experiences we’re familiar with in racism as we know it today. personally i think that’s good. she’s making a connection to a moment in history we look back on & recognise that was fucked up. she’s not minimising the magnitude of what happened, if anything she’s reminding us of it. that as a concept something that the jewish people constantly do because we don’t want to forget what happened & the lives that were lost. the holocaust wasn’t something in the distant past the way the maccabees took control of judea & fought against the seleucid king so they could reinstate the jewish religion back in 200 whatever the fuck bce. this was less than 100 years ago. there are still people alive today that lived through ww2 & survived the holocaust.

bibi’s lyrics are also completely taken out of context. people see that she used the word nazi & instantly said that it’s offensive or unnecessary. other people were arguing that it’s perfectly fine to use because it’s “history” or that “most of the people saying it probably weren’t affected during the holocaust” as if what happened doesn’t continue to affect people ( whether they themselves realise they’re being affected or not ). i’ve also seen people comment across various platforms that she shouldn’t be comparing traumas & to a degree that’s true, but the persecution people face is rooted in the same thing. nazi is not a word that’s meant to make people comfortable but it’s also not a slur. it’s the term these people used to describe themselves when murdering & oppressing people in order to “prove” their superiority whether it was the result of antisemitism or racism ( which as i’ve explained, played a much larger part in the nazi regime than people want to admit ) or any of the other reasons i listed earlier.

people don’t want to see the word bc it’s uncomfortable to think about such a dark time in history & they don’t like to be reminded of what happened. other people don’t get that luxury. i get that some german people have guilt about this part of their ancestry & even more people that want to leave it in the past but they don’t get to make that decision. & for the people stating that it’s okay because it’s in the past have completely missed the point. the comparison is there because people are still being targeted undeservedly & for things that are out of their control. not to mention that nazis themselves aren’t even a thing of the past. neonazis are still prevalent today & don’t solely target jewish people. & once more for the class... why? because of racism! just because people don’t associate the constant oppression & murder of people of colour today with mass genocide doesn’t mean that it’s not still happening. she made that analogy because there’s a parallel.

people who were hurt by hearing her lyrics are valid & i’m not saying they’re not. my jewish experience is not the only jewish experience. but just because you don’t want to hear about something doesn’t mean people can’t talk about it. she didn’t “ruin” anything with her use of the word nazi. in her lyrics she’s talking about how racism & hate spreads faster & is more dangerous than covid & she’s not entirely in the wrong by saying that. it definitely spreads faster than covid did, i mean we saw that happen with the increase in attacks against asians all over the world because they were “blamed” for spreading covid & that fear got to people before the virus ever reached them physically. she also talks about how this hatred is a never ending cycle which is also true.

leading into the line people actually took offence to, i’m not necessarily saying that nazi was the best word to use. it’s not a word to be thrown around without thinking but also, she’s using it as an analogy & isn’t directly calling anyone who’s racist a nazi. my main thing is that if you felt attacked by the comparison to the term nazi, maybe evaluate why you think modern racists are different from nazis in history. the hate is the same, the sense of superiority is the same, the desire to wipe out people who they think are “less than” is the same. words absolutely have power & again, i’m not sure she understood the full implication of using nazi in her lyrics but that doesn’t negate her intention of the lyrics & the fact that, technically speaking, she didn’t say anything incorrect.

if anything, the issue with the lyric wasn’t the word nazi itself like it seems everyone is arguing about. it’s the combination of suffocation with the word nazi as well as one of the lines immediately after talking about how the best weapon is a sharp intellect & how with their tongues as their weapons, good will win ( which is really simplifying things translation-wise tbf ). the reason for the possible issue about the line using the word suffocation was the fact that the most common cause of death in concentration camps during ww2 was the gas chambers where people would be locked in side & choke to death, suffocating on the gas that was released.

in her apology, bibi also mentions about how some of what she was trying to say is lost in translation & i definitely agree with that. if you break down the line more, the lyrics are “숨통 조여 they be like nazi”, where 숨통 means windpipe & 조여 comes from verb 조이다, which generally means to tighten but can also be used to describe feeling anxious. so when translated directly into english it is talking about suffocation but korean is infinitely more nuanced than english is. they have a million ways to say the same thing because they have very different implications. realistically a more accurate korean verb to say suffocate would be  질식시키다 which is more closely translated as to suffocate/asphyxiate/choke. in my opinion the lyrics overall read more as people who are like nazis ie who are hateful & hurting/killing people, make her anxious & that’s a totally valid sentiment. you could also argue that it’s a double entendre by referencing how important the phrase “i can’t breathe” has been within the black lives matter movement so it’s still an accurate analogy to make in my opinion.

also some people are actually out here arguing that because she used the word nazi that somehow means she's a nazi sympathiser but anyone who thinks that is fucking stupid so i don’t really feel the need to address that one.

as for the bit about intelligence, i think it was just poor placement more than anything. the idea of a line about intelligence being the best weapon is fine in theory, but intelligence can’t save everyone & people didn’t die in the holocaust because they were dumb. additionally, just because people survived it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s a victory. that’s really the only part that rubs me the wrong way but honestly i don’t really blame her for that either? it’s following her talking about how people are fighting & how their voices need to be heard. the holocaust isn’t something that’s taught all that in depth in the korean education system. they cover other things in greater detail because that’s what had a greater lasting impact on the korean people & bibi isn’t at fault for that.

realistically i think people are arguing about the wrong thing & see one comment out of context & run with it. maybe i’m not the majority opinion on this but something being a sensitive topic doesn’t automatically mean it’s inappropriate. i stand by the idea that bibi did nothing wrong but even if she did, she showed clear remorse for hurting people with her choice of words regardless of her intention & said that she would educate herself so that it wouldn’t happen again. people are allowed to make mistakes out of ignorance, it’s if they don’t show initiative to educate themselves afterwards that’s the problem. call people out & hold them accountable when they fuck up, don’t condemn them forever as if they’re a bad person unless they show a pattern or refuse to change ( especially when they weren’t malicious with their intentions as it’s obvious bibi was not ).

anyway that’s my 2 cents. it was kind of difficult to write about but i do feel better now that it’s not all in my head. & if you took the time to read this then i appreciate you & hope you’re having a good day/night

[notesofarichlycolorednight]

eyooo!! i listened to firesorrow girl [TUMBLR | SOUNDCLOUD] by @gerrydelano and HAD A MIGHTY NEED (to also analyze this)

disclaimer: I have only listened to TMA through one (1), read it ONE time, so if you read something that seems wrong it probably is because my memory is not The Best (the seasons are 40 eps long and 30 mins each, Jonny why) and I’m probably straight-up not remembering or misremembering some aspect or detail about a character/a relationship/a part of their narrative

(and before you say it, i absolutely CANNOT just go relisten to an ep out of order. my nd brain Will Not Let Me until i have listened thru all 4 seasons, In Order, several times)

ALSO: i speak very definitively here, but it doesn’t mean i’m right abt my analysis

italics and bold are lyrics, normal is analysis. if there’s a way i can make this more accessible, lmk!

analysis under cut

little girl tries sleeping in the fireplace at home no one banished her inside it, she just lay down on her own she stares up into the darkness of the chimney and she hopes that someday she may go up in smoke this makes me think abt hilltop road first and foremost (but i have a feeling i’m missing something aljlkdjf) this is also the first hint to agnes’s wavering thoughts abt her being “the chosen one” for the lightless flame she’s already wishing she could burn, or in other words be normal

oh, the ends of her hair curl into embers in the wood beneath her head like a pillow, splintered shoulders in the soot flickers turn to flame and moves in kisses up her arms it loves her, so refuses her a scar i really like the imagery here bc, aside from the splinters, it evokes a softness embers are pretty, pillows are soft, “moves in kisses up her arms” really evokes a gentle intimacy, even before the line “it loves her” but then the last line really solidifies agnes’s relationship with fire--she wishes it would burn her but it loves her too much to do that, so she doesn’t

she doesn't burn oh, she learns again, reinforcing the motif agnes’s relationship with fire--the layers of 1) her not wanting this but 2) the first doesn’t care and loves her anyway i also see it as foreshadowing, or at least leading up to what she learns (put a pin in this)

pretty girl sits quiet in the coffee shop alone staring empty out the window like she used to do at home she feels his eyes fall down upon her from the counter, like a doe the ache of yearning blisters in her bones jack barnabas! hilltop road the use of doe, evokes the visual of “wide eyes,” which, in turn, evokes naivety--jack doesn’t know who agnes is, what she is, or that she could hurt him, even if she didn’t want to love, love, LOVE the fire motif here and used throughout the song--using fire metaphors bc it’s so fitting (put a pin in this)

he follows her up to the hill where water never works to send him down she broke his crown and blessed him with a curse her only kiss a smear of kerosene, a desperation unrehearsed and love made sure to let her know it hurts (love made sure it hurt) this only hit me like after the 5th time listening in a row, but LISTEN, “jack and jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.” i think it could also mean hilltop road, but i do think the stronger theme lies in that nursery rhyme. his name is jack and then to solidify that, “to send him down she broke his crown” vs. “jack fell down and broke his crown” i really love the contradiction of “blessed him with a curse” *ben from parks and rec voice* it’s about the layers. so listen, love is often seen as a blessing. but coming from agnes it’s a curse bc she burns anyone she touches. this is also in reference to her momentarily transferring her curse (the love from the lightless flame/fire) to him through her kiss “smear of kerosene”--another way of using a metaphor that evokes images of fire, and I LOVE IT “a desperation unrehearsed” MORE LAYERS YO. she knows what her touch will do to him but she’s so desperate to feel normal for even a second, she kisses him anyway “and love made sure to let her know it hurts”--going back to her curse, the love from fire/flame, and the destruction is causes bc of this. it could also be representative of how love can be very destructive. ppl often describe “the fires of passion” or passion as being like fire/hot *eyes emoji* i think the addition of “love made sure it hurt” could also communicate how the fire’s love for agnes is possessive--she cannot be normal or human or have any other relationship except with the lightless flame

he burns oh, she learns a parallel to “she doesn’t burn”--the striking difference between her and jack (the lightless flame and the rest of the world) what she learns here, tho, is also a parallel between what she learns at the beginning of the song there she is learning abt herself, here is is learning about everyone else

learns that breathing screamsmoke blackens hearts as much as lungs a heart motif, representative of love another fire-related metaphor that breathing in smoke doesn’t just fill your lungs with soot, but also covers the heart (love) in soot, as well a toxic love, as soot is bad for lungs and hearts it can’t be coughed back out and she can’t glisten like the sun using fire-related metaphors--the soot in her lungs and on her heart cannot be “cleaned” or cleared from her body with the body’s natural reaction to something obstructing breathing, which is coughing listen, i’ve said this before AND YOU’LL HEAR IT AGAIN: i really love “she can’t glisten like the sun” bc the whole point of fire, as the lightless flame sees it, is what the fear is named for: desolation. BUT fire is ultimately a neutral thing. if you respect and carefully control it, it can give warmth and life--like the sun (tho you can’t control the sun lmao). so there are positive aspects to. but not for agnes, given her upbringing and literally how she was conceived there’s no one left to save with love and no one she can touch affection is the pyre built on wildfire in the brush reinforcing her being unable to connect with normal humans bc of who she is ALSO i’m pretty sure this is referencing the bonfire she was born in--the ritual that made her the lightless flame’s messiah also, also, the use of the word “affection” uses the theme that fire itself love agnes, in it’s own, twisted way

her hands were only ever made to press through burning flesh and boiling tears won’t put it out but scald it like the rest referencing her birth again--that she was made to be this messiah for the lightless flame, for their ritual to remake the world through the lens of the desolation also more fire-related metaphors that i am IN LOVE with ugh, and, okay “boiling tears” communicates what agnes is feeling again--that she Does Not want to be their messiah, she just wants to be normal. she doesn’t want what the fire has given her but even her tears burn bc that’s what she is, what she was made for and the love of waxen women makes no difference in the end if never she can make and keep a simple human friend reference to jude, specifically, but other members of the lightless flame, as well. from what i remember, they all loved her but in the way that the fire loves her: possessive and toxic (like soot in the lungs) and then the reinforcement that she’s not human and cannot have the connection with humans she desperately craves, even if it’s just a tiny sliver

she can’t burn oh, she’s learned YO the difference between “she doesn’t burn” and “she can’t burn”--there’s a passiveness to it in the first line, but it’s more active in the second. here me out: as i said before, the “learn” lines communicate the inner thoughts of what agnes is thinking, the revelations she makes as he grows and lives. so “she doesn’t burn” communicates her learning and get used to the fact that fire doesn’t hurt her. versus “she can’t burn” communicates her knowing and accepting that the fire doesn’t hurt her, but she can hurt others with that very same fire. lowkey it’s so hard to articulate this difference, but this is the best my brain came up, hope it makes sense

YOOOO GIVE ME A MOMENT THIS NEXT PART IS MY FAVORITE PART

firesorrow girl says, “hang me up; i’d like to go” (i would like to go) referencing her death--her realizing that bc she’s fallen in love with jack, she can no longer lead the ritual for the lightless flame. but bro, listen, the addition  of “i would like to go” is a direct line to what agnes is thinking and feeling. more than not being able to lead the ritual, she doesn’t want to live like this anymore; doesn’t want to live her life unable to make connections with humans this isn’t quite a chimney she can column up to choke (i choose now to choke) a throwback to the first lines about her lying down in the fireplace and looking up through the chimney ALSO has a double meaning here, reinforced by what agnes is thinking: you can choke on smoke. her death involves literal choking the “i choose now to choke” again is a direct line to what agnes is thinking/feeling BUT ALSO a decision she finally gets to make autonomously the weighted hand upon her waist is chained there like a ghost, (always been a ghost) i know you’re probably tired of hearing but i ain’t gonna stop saying it. I REALLY LOVE THIS LINE. the lyrics say one thing, agnes’s internal thoughts say another bc raymond fielding is a ghost. not just like a ghost. he is one to her. i believe it was distortion helen who said that there was a scar on hilltop road. and we find out later that it’s bc hilltop road belonged to the web and even tho agnes burnt the house down, the web still left a mark on her. part of that mark is fielding, who i assume, was an avatar for the web. and it’s quite literal, as agnes never got rid of his hand he literally is a ghost haunting her bc of this but the rope she wears is woven cold with hope (yearning to be cold) THIS LINE BRO,,, i’m gonna say it I FUCKING LOVE IT. of course, referencing the rope she uses to hang herself BUT LISTEN “woven cold with hope” YOOOO THIS IS TAKING THE FIRE LOVES HER THEME AND TURNING IT ON ITS HEAD COMPLETELY she has been burning with fire this entire song, her body a raging inferno, contained in a body that appears human but hurts anything she touches. BUT AT THE END OF THE SONG WE GET THE COLD fire is often associated with warmth is often associated with hope, right?? but this time bc of the circumstances and what fire means to agnes and the lightless flame, being cold, not burning everyone she touches horribly, is her hope ”yearning to be cold” strengthens that message coldness is also associated with death, and here it’s quite literal but it’s also important to note that it’s also still agnes’s hope. so it’s still a very positive thing, even tho it’s associated with very negative things. bro,,, i gotta go lie down

those who can remember sing her name out like a prayer (i am not your prayer) the lightless flame, of course, bc they are a cult. don’t @ me, i’m right BUT “i am not your prayer”: again, a direct line into agnes’s thoughts. she never wanted, nor asked to be their messiah. she was thrust into the position against her will as she was literally borne in flames. from birth she had this shouldered on her. and she doesn’t want it, even in death the music to it hollow of the truth in her despair (hollow with despair) goes along with the “prayer” for her above: the lightless flame sing and mourn her but they’re not mourning her, not agnes, they’re mourning their messiah, the one who was going to lead them through a ritual that would remake the world. their words ring hollow bc of this. and it hurts even more with “in her despair” bc even in agnes’s despair at not being able to connect with a human, as well as not being able to lead the lightless flame like they wanted her too, they’re only mourning the idea of agnes they’ve created in their minds, not who agnes really was in wickerwind the crackleburn of candles cries for fate (i rewrite my fate) and firesorrow girl may someday be chosen again (firechosen girl, again) i LOVE the use of “wickerwind” and “crackleburn.” no analysis i just love the way they sound okay but the “cries for fate.” i think this has a lot of meanings. one is the fire crying out either about agne’s ultimate fate (having to kill herself or die, anyway) and/or crying out for another to fill her position (putting agnes’s fate onto someone else’s shoulders). another is the lightless flame also crying out for the same reasons. and the third is agnes, herself, crying out about her unfair fate. i think that last one is strengthened by “i rewrite my fate.” a common but powerful theme in many stories of a character defying fate bc it’s unacceptable to them. it’s also wholly contradictory to what the lightless flame wanted and then, of course, the second line strengthens the idea that they’re already looking for another messiah for their ritual

and so the wheel turns ‘round and ‘round

final note abt the music that is probably wrong bc i’m not musically inclined BUT i have been listing to sideways on youtube, who is very musically inclined. and that makes me an expert right? /s anyway, what i wanted to note abt this musical structure is that the beats aren’t the usual 4/4 that most popular songs use these days.

and what that means is that you get gratification ever 4 beats. (sideways describes it way better than i ever could here) this song doesn’t follow that structure (i think lakjlkdjf again, i’m not musically inclined at all) and i think it really adds to the theme of how agnes feels: trapped with this fire burning inside her until she finally chooses freedom (tho i know it’s more complicated than that in-verse).

now whether was was purposeful or not, i have no idea. but still a cool detail i, personally, noticed.

--

again hope it was semi-coherent. as with my other analysis, i just listened to the song and wrote what i was thinking, stream of consciousness

bloodwater ballad analysis | bonus meme i made for these analyses bc it’s funny and i wanted to share

[drsilverfish]

Where the Girls Go Wild and the Boys Play Hard - The Subtext in Swayze’s Bar - 15x07 Last Call

Well, I guess now we know why Swayze always gets a pass... (a shared crush with an old flame).

And I guess we also know that the silent word in the episode title Last Call is booty... as in Last (Booty) Call - or, the tragic end to an old fling.

Ok, so I’m late to the party (I’m sure there is a party, right?) as I’ve just watched the episode and I’ve been avoiding spoilers! 

No doubt the queer subtext in this episode, regarding the nature of Dean and Lee’s previous relationship, has already been the subject of much discussion, many meta and gifs. So, apologies for any repetitions, but I’m gonna give it my best shot.

Firstly I was struck by the name of this old hunting “brother” of Dean’s - Lee. I know Lee Webb was a country singer. But, in the larger mythos of Supernatural, which Kripke based on Kerouac’s On the Road (Sam = Sal Paradise and Dean = Dean Moriarty) Lee would fit as a reference to Old Bull Lee, another character in On the Road, based on Kerouac’s friend, the writer William Burroughs (who was of course, gay).

There are many elements we’re used to - Sam/ Eileen (now overtly on the edge of something romantic) paired in the narrative whilst Dean/ Lee are paired; sharing drinks as substitutes for erotic intimacy (here, dick-touching):

which SPN has used before, notably back when Dean got infected by Nick the Siren by sharing his hipflask with him in Baby in 4x14 Sex and Violence (a subtextual kiss).

Then there’s the reference Dean and Lee make to a good ol’ time of theirs back when they shared an encounter with triplets (of unspecified gender) whilst hanging out with Lorna, in a situation at Swayze’s which could, potentially, turn into a present-day threesome, given Lorna’s earlier overt sexual interest in Dean, and the subtextual tension between Dean and Lee.

This reference to triplets (of unspecified gender) of course, reminds us of those other triplets (also of unspecified gender) to whom Crowley and Deanmon did “extraordinary things” together back in 10x01 Black during their “summer of love”.

But it was the intimacy of Lee’s line to Dean from the stage: “You can’t just sit around lip-synching to Eye of the Tiger when no-one’s watching,” that punched me in the gut. Dean had allowed himself to really be seen by this guy, i.e. shared his secret dream to be a rock star with him, which we’ve previously seen him reveal to another old love, Robin, in 9x07 Bad Boys. 

So yeah it turns out, as Rowena said, “What’s bi is bi,” - and sometimes bisexual lighting is bisexual lighting:

“Making their way, the only way they know how... that’s just a little bit more than the law will allow...” 

The Duke’s of Hazzard theme song, sure, but also, in this context, of course, an anthem, for Dean and Lee, to “outlaw” (queer, closeted) sexuality. 

Then there’s Lee’s bar, Swayze’s, itself, which sheds new light on Rocky’s Bar, the “happiness-trap” dream mind-bar which AU!Michael created in Dean’s head in 14x10 Nihilism in order to subdue him:

Looks like Dean and Lee shared a dream about owning a bar together, way back when Sammy was off at college and Dean and Lee were “hunting buddies”.

And look, Cosmic Cowboy makes an appearance inboth Swayze’s and Rocky’s: 

Yeah, I know it’s a real Family Business Beer Co beer, but that don’t mean it can’t play a role in the subtext additionally, where it connects these two old lovers’ dream bars:

I’ve written previously about the queer-coding of bars in SPN over the years:

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/50661253249/the-bar-scene-in-8x23-spoilers-detailed

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/115759833784/dean-winchester-bars-and-m-m-encounters 

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182142619479/rockys-bar-a-closer-look-in-deans-mind-14x10

And there’s plenty of queer-coding in Swayze’s. Just look at those two guns crossed on the wall between Dean and Lee:

Sure, they’re about to fight, so that’s one layer, but as with the touching beer bottles above, this is also dick-on-dick symbolism 101.

And would you look at that freaking TV screen with the man on the end of a pier at sunset? Yup that also appeared in Rocky’s:

As I’ve often discussed before, pier symbolism has come, in SPN’s visual subtext, to stand for the intimate connection between Dean and Cas, from that pivotal scene in 4x20 The Rapture in which Cas entered Dean’s fishing dream, rebelling against Heaven to do so, and tried to warn him about Heaven’s plans.

Notice The Rapture is also referenced in 15x07 because the case Dean is investigating was reported in the news as a girl being “raptured” (taken up to Heaven). And that pier scene from The Rapture was referenced last week too, as Cas mused about Dean’s love for fishing’s “meditative qualities” during his Jenny Lake case in 15x06 Golden Time. The profound bond may presently be under strain, but oh boy, is the subtext singing from its hymn sheet.

Cas’ absence (and Dean’s longing for him) is layered into the subtext of both Rocky’s and Swayze’s bars. In 15x07 Dean has left the bunker because (we may infer) he’s finding Sam’s burgeoning happiness with Eileen hard to deal with, given his own break-up with Cas, and yet, the poor sod goes and runs, tragically, into another lost love. 

And then this dialogue hits us, and Dean, with break-up feels:

Dean: “Best friends don’t just up and leave without saying goodbye...”

Lee: “Unless they deserve it...”

You have to wonder if the similarities between Rocky’s (which was a fiction, an illusion) and Swayze’s, contains an ominous hint of Chuck’s handiwork. Perhaps he set up this painful scenario (by association, also a fiction) for Dean, to cruelly toy with his emotions. 

The reference to 4x06 Yellow Fever really made my subtext-dar go off, in terms of the multiple layers Jeremy Adams managed to deftly work into Last Call. Dean laughingly tells Lee about catching “ghost sickness” that one time (and of course, Lee’s Eye of the Tiger reference also recalls Yellow Fever for us). 

Yellow Fever, Dabb’s first episode for the show, is, in subtext, a study in queer-panic, which the “ghost sickness” (which infects Dean, not Sam) stands in for. See my queer reading of that episode, here:

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182874642184/old-timey-spn-a-fresh-queer-look-at-4x06

“Ghost-sickness”, aka queer closeted anxiety, becomes deeply poignant here, hanging between Dean and Lee, like the ghost of their old intimacy, which they never vocalise, but which may (if we choose) be read in the way they touch each other.

Overall, this was a beautifully written episode by Jeremy Adams, and the final, tragic (sublimated) penetration of Lee by Dean with the pool cue - a real death echoing, in subtext, with all the “little deaths” (yes, sex) they’ve shared before, was acted to perfection.

Lee’s noises and grunts are the noises of a fight, yes, but close your eyes and listen to that scene. “Wait, wait,” Lee says breathlessly, and Dean pauses, before Lee tells him it’s ok to pull out. And Dean can’t freaking look Lee in the eye because this terrible new intimacy is layered ontop of older intimacies:

So is Dean’s bisexuality still subtext, after this episode?

Yes, given that out there in the fly-by-night froth of mainstream entertainment journalism, it remains (as far as I can see, in my admittedly brief trawl) unremarked upon in 15x07 episode reviews and recaps:

https://tvmoviefix.com/supernatural-season-15-episode-7-last-call-review-recap-spoilers/

https://ew.com/recap/supernatural-season-15-episode-7/

But, Dean does slay the monster in the closet that gives you fake happiness if you feed it the blood of innocents. And in that, we might read a metaphor - for Dean slaying his own closetedness (as much, anyway, as the CW will permit): 

My usual disclaimer applies: reading SPN’s queer subtext does not imply or promise textual confirmation is on the way.