#cree says shit

[thehardkandy]

i do think programming is very fun to do for work because it's like you will go and make up this cool little thing and then you even get to do show and tell where you show it for everyone to see how cool it is

[lore-smaus]

«I DON'T SPEAK TACO BELL» FT. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Shoko, Choso, Toji, Sukuna.

Summary: You so casually yell at them in Spanish and they have no clue how to act.

Tags: crackhead energy, cursing duh, translation for the one who can't understand duh!, freaky characters, this one is slightly connected to some smau lore lmao

A/N: Im done here. I had too much fun making this @saintkaylaa

Gojo Satoru:

“A ver, pendejito, tu te crees que soy una de tus amiguitas o que? A mi no me vengas con eso otra vez o te voy a dar un cantaso que vas a ver a Geto!" (lets see, dumbass. You think im one of your little friends? Dont come at me with that ever again or ill hit you so hard you'll see Geto!)

To say he was shocked was an understatement. He was beyond that point.

He knew you spoke Spanish, hell, he's seen you speak it. However, no matter how many times he listens to it, it will never not surprise him how fluently and easy you spoke it.

He apologized, even though he didn't understand anything, and made sure to not get on your nerves ever again. He was scared shitless.

Geto Suguru

Logically, he wasn't afraid of anything! Truly. Well, that was until you heard the girls referring to your non sorcerer family as monkeys. You sat them down, belt in hand and started shouting at them.

"Es que como se te ocurre! Monos?! A MI familia?! No no, es que tu eres imbécil! Y enfrente de las nenas!?" (What were you thinking! Monkeys?! MY family?! No no, you're an asshole! In front of the girls too!?)

The girls looked sheepishly at Geto, however, Geto had his eyes closed, almost praying, barely making noises. It wasn't his first time being shouted at in Spanish, however, it was the first time actually looking at you grabbing a belt. And with the way you talked about how your parents hit you when you were young with it? Oh yeah, he didn't even wanna move. So the girls, following the example, stayed still.

Rest assured, that day, Geto discovered he had ONE fear: you.

Nanami Kento

"Ruega a Dios que ese imbécil no se cruce en mi camino porque es que lo exorciso yo misma" (Pray to God so that imbecil don't cross paths with me because I'll exorcise him myself)

Truly, while Shoko attended Nanami, she could almost hear his heart palpitations because the way you fumed and complained, even pointing at him to reprimand him for his carelessness he was rather excited.

He knew you spoke and he tried his best to learn spanish however, he noticed that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to understand it. So he stayed silent during your 'lecture'. However, in his mind, he was trying to figure out what were you saying.

Shoko Ieiri

“Me importa un carajo que te ayude a quitar estrés, o sueltas el jodio cigarrillo o yo te voy a dar una razón para estresarte." (I don't give a fuck if it helps you destress, you either let go of the god-damned cigarette or ill give you a reason to be stressed)

She didn't know if she should be turned on or scared. Maybe both.

"yo... Umm? No hablar?" She tried to speak the very little spanish she knew, however, that only helped to confuse you. When she finally let go (and stopped on the cigarette) you sighed heavily.

"Your spanish is shit"

"Pardon?!"

Choso Kamo

Poor guy. He doesn't even know what you're saying. You weren't mad, just... Disappointed.

"Es que como se te ocurre? Es que de verdad, amor, no puedes hacer eso!" (What were you thinking. Truly, love, you can't do that!)

Not long ago, he had learned he was lactose intolerant and you were behind the bathroom door lecturing him, plugging your nose while doing so. He was struggling, both physically and mentally. You sounded funny but the ache on his stomach didn't let him laugh.

"Y es que si hubiera sido un poco. Pero nooooo, tu jartaste un tazon mantecado entero!" (And if it was just a little bit. But nooooo, you ate a whole bowl of ice cream!)

Its alright tho, he learned his lesson:(

Toji Fushiguro

"O te mueves o te muevo. Avanza y largate antes que yo misma decida romperte la cara" (move or ill move you. Hurry up and scatter before i break your face myself)

If you guys weren't bloody, sweaty and tired, he'd kiss you and fuck you full of his cock. But his tiredness told him he didn't have the strength to even get hard.

You'll just have to wait when he gets his rest and shower to show you how turn on he gets when you threaten him in a language he doesn't even understand.

Sukuna Ryomen

"Si te lo tengo que decir una vez más te voy a cortar los huevos. Si dejas que otra zorra se te acerque quedas soltero" (if i need to repeat this again I'll cut your dick off. You let another whore get close to you you'll be single)

You ever seen a cat widening his eyes? Yep, that's him. Looking around with a scowl on his face and looking straight and Urame for a translation, quickly. Not getting any, since they didn't know either.

However, the fire in your tone, the sass on your movements and the way you sounded threatening and serious makes him think that you truly are fit to be the queen of curses.

[sleepy-fiction]

Got a crush- got a crush- Crush you all beneath me. ⚗️

Jinx x F!Reader SMUT

3k WORDS

tgs: intense violence, erotic asphyxiation, water sports, bdsm, knife play, powerplay, masochist reader, oral, cunnilingus, sexual repression, religious terms/oppressive religious language, reader is shit and pathetic its lovely

syn: Jinx spares you before your death, the adrenaline, the ecstasy, its euphoric. You re-emerge bright-eyed like the first oracle of a God. Only this time, you want to eat God's cunny, and she'll let you.

an: hii err questioning myself with this one wow. this takes place in act 2 of arcane s2, jinx is rumored to be older bc of a possible time skip between act 1 & 2, but jinx is early 20s in this fic. I wanted to write something freakalicious and get back in touch with my weird side. mildly proofread

Smeech's gang had been your home since you were little. You were born into it, your parents' loyal followers, devout, and strict as they came. The rules were engraved into your brain, defined like the Old Testament. You were linear, closed-minded, and point. Your parents died in the battled post silco. Your neighbors, the other kids. The gang's numbers were dwindling, if not by death, then by them abandoning the cree for others. And the years went by. Your silent, dormant hatred for Jinx muddled up.

It continued until her little revolution, where she gained her little blue headed cult following. You'd be lying if you say a part of you wasn't swooned. But your revenge called for more.

What they called "Safety". No, it was nothing but plain blameless sin.

And you were put on this earth to eradicate it.

So it only came natural after Smeech's disassembly, for the gang to disemble themselves as well. Like a ghost town, you found yourself being the only righteous one holding up the banner. And if A^2 + B^2 = C^2, you were going after the women responsible for it.

No.

THE woman responsible for it all.

Jinx.

Blue eyed, blue braided, soon to be blue bellied, Jinx.

Jinx was a flithy mongrel, poisoning Zaun from the inside out. Her almost physiological poison bubbled out of its bloodied cauldron and frothed onto the deep floors of Zaun. Like a thick and heavy smoke blinding the ground, sucking the souls out of sinners, and blinding even the most powerful. Tempting, and as small as an ewe lamb, yet brewing and seizing like an unruly urchin. Baring pretty pale hips, milky white skin smothered in tattoos. And those eyes. Those round doe eyes.

They kept you awake at night.

Tempting.

They made you shudder.

With the bloodlust you had been building for weeks, weeks until the day your holy vengeance struck from the skies. With the last remaining loyal souls with nothing to live for, other than the fragments of Smeech's impressive legacy.

Yet why.

How.

How did things end this way.

Your body seized the moment your very own blades, the one you fantasized about taking the life of Jinx, was twisted deep into your belly. Your eyes flashed white, your gasp deep and profound, your balance suddenly no longer mattering to you anymore. The surprise attack was going well, well, until Jinx drew her devilish strength from hell and slaughtered your gang like animals. And you, being brave enough to stop her, freed her of all her guns. You fought like chickens, scratching and scraping at each other, throwing rocks, tossing dust, kicking crotches, pulling hair (you mainly), all until you had her.

She was pined beneath, whimpering and blabbering useless mantra. You revved your blade. But you stopped. You had to tell her why she deserved this. Your speech you had prepared before vanquishing this world of evil. Your glorious speech of Smeech and your gang. And unbeknownst to you, that was more than enough time for her to flash bright magenta eyes. And whimper a sound so attainable, your breath locked, and suddenly, for no reason at all, you had an urge to piss.

That one second of weakness.

No.

She turned your speech against you, she built up her bewitching tactics, disarming you and filling you with mercy, all for her to drive your beloved knife, your knife that your parents made you, deep, deep into your belly.

Then those doe eyes sharpened and she laughed.

She pushes you off her like you were nothing, your body hitting the wet dirty floor. It was raining, and glory's pellets dribbled woefully onto your cheek. Your breath was broken up into sharp, unattainable gasps as you meekly tried to crawl away. Your vision shook white in a painful mix of adrenaline, pain, and panick. Panick thick enough to make you spit and froth out the corners of your mouth.

Your body was ringing, brazen silver alarm bells loud and sparky in your ears. The flashing of tree roots and veins in your vision, and how sharp your sense of smell suddenly became. You could smell the muddy streets clearer than day, and even the smell of cotton candy and battery acid death pouring out from her body. A smell that, even now, still made your lower parts clench.

"Ha-! Ahaha-ha," she laughs. Her voice echoes. In your shaken vision, you see her rise before you, blurry bright cyan blue blinding. Pitifully, you crawl backward, desperate to flee death. Once Jinx has you, she never spares any mercy. You knew that going in, but never, never did you believe it'd become a reality.

You were going to become another number on an ever growing list of people who thought they could kill Jinx and failed.

Once that settled in your brain, pitifully thick tears sprang out from your eyes. You cried loudly, a wail strong enough to shake the most powerful souls. A wail so primal, so childish, a wail that stemmed from early development yet also the evolution of humans itself- the last cry of a dying homosapien at the hands of a bloodlust driven Neanderthal.

A cry that was stopped by the quaking footsteps of Jinx. The booming, sloppy, wet footsteps filled with the vibrations of her getting closer. She fell on top you with a cadence, a gust of quick wind as she straddled you. You gasped and reached forward blindly, raindrops falling in your eyes and mixing with the tears as you clawed at her jaw and neck.

She didn't care. She grabbed your left wrist in a vice, hard enough for you to cry out like an injured lamb. And with her other hand, she gripped your face and trusted hers into your view.

She spoke, "You feel that?"

You gasped, your breathing erratic.

"You're going to die," she laughed at you. "You're going to die, and you almost had me! Not even my sister got that close!" Her voice is like a wicked hyena. Gravely and strained from the battle, creaking to show her physical pain.

But it was enough. It enough for your body to grow limp in her hands like a frightened goat.

Your eyes bare into her face, your head uplifted by her tight hands. As you stare at her skin, as pale as powder, eyes as tired and jaded as a wilted flower, and smile as deranged as a wheel on its last hinge.

She smiles, growing ever close, closed enough for your noses to touch, and for her breath, the mingle with yours, "You know. At this stage. You're suddenly aware of everything around you. Your vision goes to shit. But you can still hear the little birds go 'cheep-cheep-cheep', and the rain-- 'pitter-patter-pitter-patter'. And you can't quite feel the pain, but it's the fear of knowing it's coming that gets you." She grabs the knife, twisting it slightly.

You jolt, crying out in agony. "Your heart rate spikes, you begin to hyperventilate. And there's this ringing in your ears... And... My favorite part, the buzzing behind the eyes," she says as she reaches and stretches your eyelids back. Your pupils shrink, and just as she says, your body systematically begins to follow. Snot pools down your nose, a tell tale sign of your inability to get oxygen. "It's totally useless how we have a nose and mouth. But yet they get so scared and they start working against eachother! Just like families... Just like gangs... like rats," she hisses, and you can feel the etchings of her lips near your cheek as she loopily giggles towards your ear.

"You know, if you breathe through your nose, your hyperventilating will stop," she smiles. Eagerly and foolishly, you obey, shutting your mouth instantly and sucking in gifts of air. But just as instant as you gain it, you lose it within seconds. Jinx pinches your nose shut, her thumb and index vicious like the jerking bite of a shark.

You panick, you eyeballs ringing. And as you try to open your mouth again, she drops your head, ot crashes to the ground, and she slams her free hand to clamp your mouth shut.

"Nhahaha," She laughs. Oh, she laughs. It's manical in nature, enough for you to wet yourself in pure fear. Your hands shoot up to claw at her hands, albeit weakly, and it feels nothing more than a massage to her. By now, you're aware of the warm wet clinging your shirt has to your belly, your pants to your crotch, and the flavorful blend of urine and iron in the wet muddy air.

Your vision spots.

She releases you, but it was already much too late.

"You know what," she says. Her voice trails in and out in your ears. Her blurry figure rises, "I think I'll spare you... That is, if you don't bleed to death out here."

Your head sags, catching the final glimpses of her limping away before it all fades to--

You jolt awake with a hard start. You shoot up, blinded by white lights that eventually shimmer down to a familsr room, your hideout. Your heart bursting a hundred miles an hour out of your chest. It was the feeling of shimmer running down your veins like a cold shower.

Instantly, you recognize your old partner, Kilo, rushing up to you from their seat in the back. Their hands grab yours, but you're even quicker to smack them away. "What t'hell! I was supposed ta-ugh die," you blabber out, spit flying in your jittery rage. Your hands grip your head of hair, your heart racing painfully.

"I heard about your dumb plan, and I came to save you, (y/n)! You had been laying there for God knows how long--" They say but you cut them off with a deadly glare, "Why are you mad? I saved you! Listen, God, you just need to calm down," they pleaded, burning their doe shaped brown eyes into your skull. Eyes you used to find allu ng, before they abandoned Smeech.

Smeech.

Dammit.

Did it really even matter anymore.

Dammit you can't fucking think straight.

How much shimmer did they use on you?

They reached again for you, and you smacked them harder, as hard as your jittery body could manage. They were as thick as a barn, burly and bearded, so your shove did nothing to them. But still, you powered up, barely making out of your bed before you knocked into your bedside table and cracking into your lamp.

As soon as you stood, your heart rate spiked, causing a brilliant gasp to leave your body. The kind of gasp they've only ever heard you release in bed. The kind of gasp that was filled in nostalgic ecstasy, the pain was so reminiscent of when Jinx--

Fuck.

No. Please God no.

"Are you okay," they asked. And with one look from them, you knew that they knew.

They knew.

And they were judging you with those pitiful eyes.

"Jinx did a number on you," they tried to whisper, but you seethed like a jackal.

"Jinx did nothing to me! I am normal! I am fine! I haven't changed," you screeched. Your face was warming, your heartbeat was painful, but memories of your last encounter flooded your brain.

You were going to die in the marvelously sinful hands of Jinx. But she spared you. It made every part of you tingle. You didn't notice when your partner sprang up to catch you, and you as hell didn't notice you falling forward. No, but what you did notice was the worry in their eyes. The worry in their deep masculine voice. And the devil horns springing out of their head.

They knew.

They knew and they were going to tell everyone.

"Get the fuck out of here, bastard!"

You yelled it with all your heart and soul.

And within seconds, you notice their heart crumble. Bleary brown eyes only complimented the flicker of guilt that panged you.

You just.

Needed them gone for good.

You collapsed moments after they left you, moments after the door quietly shut.

You were never going to see them again. They weren't just a partner they were your best friend.

And Jinx.

Jinx was brewing in your heart.

And you knew it then.

You were becoming something you never knew before.

⚗️

You'd imagine Jinx's surpise when the little runt she spared weeks ago came crawling deep onto Silco's old zone (now turned her streets), fully armed. What she thought was a foolish revenge battle turned into something else.

Sevika dropped you dead onto your knees before the desk in Silco's office. Your hands were bound behind your back, and Sevika had already stripped you of all the weapons you had. She walked up to the desk, where the back of Silco's chair faced you, and dropped all the weapons onto it. The daggers and guns flattered and shined in the light.

A dry, crackling laughter sparked into the air. A laughter you knew was hers. It made you tingle again. It made the bruises Sevika left you in all the more worth it.

You were shivering from withdrawals. Jinx withdrawals, adrenaline withdrawals, shimmer withdrawals. You needed her to make you experience that death spark again.

Please Jinx.

"Are you dumb or something," she asks. The chair finally spins to face you, her feet clashing against the table. Her face ridden with withheld rage. She blinks in disbelief with an agape mouth. She jolts forward, grabbing ome of your daggers and launches it towards your face. It narrowly dodges your eye and slices a thin scratch into your cheek.

You hiss and laugh.

It irrates her instantly. Her eye twitched. For the first time in forever, Jinx experienced the stress felt Silco once before. The stress of dealing with idiotic subordinates.

And for once. She didn't find it fucking funny.

"I spared you! But you come back with an even dumber plan. What? Did you think you could just waltz in here and slice me up," she asks. You laugh. She clenches her jaw. With an aggravated start, she jumps out of the chair, stomping on the desk as she slides off it in one quick athletic gesture. In seconds, she's on her feet crouching before you, squeezing chunks of your cheeks between her fingers. "What are you thinking," she spits.

Her grip is vice. It makes your eyes water. But you tingle and shiver all over.

"Mmh. Look at those pupils. You're on shimmer. Or- well, off it. What? Did the jitters make you think you could take me? Reclaim your honor," she says.

"M'hehe..mh," you giggle.

She bares her teeth. She drops your face and stands at break neck speed. Your head crashes to the floor, and you hear the familiar sound of a click.

"Everything about this is stupid and makes no sense. Your plan before was beautifully executed and thought out. So why... Why are you," she winces before she can finish her sentence and pinces her temples. You can hear Sevika cackle in the background. You peek up, staring up the barrel of a pistol. "Geez toots... I might get withdrawls next if you don't- I'dunno, say something," she says.

"Mmh... Jinx... Jus' just kill me... Jinx," you gasp out. Your nose aches, a perfect compliment to the ringing from your ribs from taking a robotic punch earlier. "Kill me... And it'll all be... like it was supposed to... Another number on the "anti" tally," you murmur. Not even you know what you're getting at. Why you're here.

Her heel touches your head. She's purposefully digging it into you. "Aah- haa," you shake.

Sevika gasps sharply, "Oh?" Her eyebrows quirk knowingly. Jinx turns to her, but Sevika merely smirks. "I'll leave you to it," Sevika hums, her shoulders slumping as she steps out. Jinxs eyes flicker with wilderment. Sevika lowered her guard. Totally.

They both knew you weren't a threat. But here, that small gesture confirmed a lot to Jinx. You were harmless, you didn't want to die, but you wanted to be around her. No. You wanted her to hurt you. She tests the waters. Jinx's muddy shoe pets down your head, its light not to hurt you. You buck and shiver again, blabbering out heedless.

No.

You didn't want her to hurt you.

When the realization dawned on her, a breathy cackle split the air. "Ooh! Oh god this is too good! What's that little runt," she squats right down next to you, flipping you onto your belly, "you want me to play with ya? Oh, daddy'll play with you toots."

"Wait- that's not what I what I w-want you to kill me! My honor! I lost it in battle, and i-it can only be claimed in--"

"Nn'haha! You really believe that? Oh god you're a riot! Say it. You want Jinxsy to touch you... And err... Ya'know! Take you to p-town. Play with your cunny?"

You felt an electric jolt sink to your clit. One strong enough to shut you up. Your eyes flicker to her crotch, where her legs were spread as she crouched.

"Ooh," she caught it immediately, "you want my cookie instead, eh?"

You gasped in horror.

"Or box? Is that what the kids call it nowadays? Box... Box... I always wonders why, but," she says as she pushes Silco's desk out the way and sits down in the chair, spreading her legs wide, "apparently! It's called a box cause you can stuff it! Myahaha! Ain't that something?"

You stare blissfully at her spread legs, painfully aware of your slick oozing.

She pats her thigh. "Well? What's the verdict? I'm not pulling my pants down till ya tell me ya' want it. Say it cute-like! Oh Jinx-jinx-jinx-jinx! I want your cookie wookie! Pleaase'z," she drags it out, saying it sing-songly to fuel your embarrassment.

You blabber in disbelief, "Buh," and gulp, "B-But why. Why are you letting me?" You sound like a shy child.

"Why dya' think I spared you? You're pretty hot. And... I liked being handsy with you. It felt good... Gooder than usual... Hah! Prolly cause your whorish, sensual aura stunk up the place. All that temp'TIT'ous-humbo-jumbo! N'ahaha... God you-"

"Please, Jinx," you whimper.

She returns, "Hey. I already told you. We're not unt--"

You squeak, "Let me... Eat it..."

"Huh? Is that how you ask -"

"Let me eat your cookie," you say. She gives you a bland look. "Uh," you gulp, "Please Jinxsy... Let me eat your- c-cookie. Wuh... Wookie."

She laughs, "Tehe, you got it dollface!"

this wasn't ever about smeech, was it?

⚗️

"Ooh... ff-fuck dollface," she mewls breathlessly. Your hands are still tied tight behind your back, balancing wobbly on your knees as you bury your face deep beneath Jinx's bare, pale, milky legs. Your nose is buried deep into her cunt, your tongue and lips viciously lapping at her clit. Twitching between sucking and tapping it. She was swollen already, a clear sign of her sexual negligence.

No, part of you is convinced she is a virgin. Jinx bucks into your mouth, gripping chunks of your hair. Her leg twitching, barely missing kicking your shoulder as it flies off the seat it was propped up on. She let's it slump over your shoulder. And you almost cried at how far her hole was now from your greedy lips.

You growl, "Jinx put your other leg on me... C-cant suck all of you like this."

"Uhh... Hmm," You're sure she was only half listening, but still, she lazily hunches down and stops her other leg on your shoulder. She adjusts herself and leans slouches downward more, sitting on her upper ass and pushing her cunt straight onto your face in the process.

You snuck in deep sniffs, the smell balanced, tart, and salty. You slurp up her folds into your lips, pulling and letting them slip out between your lips. She hisses and mewls delightfully, an airy cackle leaving her lips. She taps your head with two fingers and bobs her head rhythmically, a delighted hum squeaking from her lips. You giggle humored, licking a stripe up her, slowing down to enjoy the moment.

She's staring deep into your eyes, grinding against your flat tongue, slowly matching your rhythm. Your rhythm was closely following the one she hummed and drummed on you.

It was odd, how calm it all suddenly became. How you couldn't seem to look away. You wanted to please her so bad.

A ferocious shiver sparked down you again. You locked in, cupping her clit in your lips, suckling and tapping against it. You buried yourself into her, erratic and fanatic, slurping all of her like it was your last dinner. She squeaks and bucks into your mouth at the sharp change, bowling out her moans. "Aah- ff... Oohh, dollface-ugh," she whines. Her arms fall out, one landing on her forehead, her index and thumb propped up on it, rolling her head back into the chairs cushions.

Her bucking became erratic, her moans spiking, her grip on herself becoming undone. As she reaches with her free hand again to grab chunks of your hair at the root. Her cunt is pink and pale, littered with pretty hair. But your bullying turned it a vulgar shade of red. A red you'd wear on your lips any day.

"Aah! Ah! Aaa-mmgh," she barks out. Her thighs clench vice around your neck, her leg spasming before finally, "Oouh," she janks your head away from her pussy, gasping and waning in the chair.

Her eyes rolled back, while senseless blabbering drooled out her lips. "Mmht... D-Dollface," she sighs blissfully.

"It's (y/n)," you murmur and lean back in to peck at her swollen, ruined pussy.

"(Y-Y/n)?" She gulps, her eyes never returning from their blissful heaven beneath her eyelids. "Mmh yeah... (y/n)," she mumbles, half listening. She sighs after a few seconds, finally looking down at you and- smiling? It was a soft one, geninue and pure.

She asks, "What else can you do?"

"Mmh... I want... to feel good too," you murmur still pecking her pussy and inner thighs.

"Hmmmrr.... Alright. Let's get you fingered up."

"N-No... At the same time as you... Let's grind on our thighs... er like how they do in those... Brothels."

"Ooh what? You mean scissoring? Ha, is this your first time with a woman," she barks a laugh.

"Is this your first time ever, Jinx?"

"Hey," she commands, her face twitches. She shoved your face back into her lips. "Don't get smart with me. You're still my doll," she hums.

"M'forgive me," you mumble out, with pussy between your lips. That was all the answer you need. You slowly begin to suckle her again, hearing her breathy moans pour in.

"Mmh yeah... Let's go to my room..."

⚗️

😁

[xjulixred45x]

Guess who just watched Apology Tour/Helluva Boss Critique

MY GOD, STOLAS' DEAD MOSQUITO ATTITUDE HAD ME ROTTEN FROM MINUTE ONE. Does this grown man really believe that HE is the one who should be angry because THE POWER IMBALANCE IN HIS DYNAMIC WITH BLITZ WAS CALLED ATTENTION? Flaco, mature.

APART FROM STOLAS LITERALLY MANIPULATING HIM TO MAKE HIM FEEL BAD "do you feel any remorse for WHAT YOU DO?" FLACO, SKINNY, YOU ARE THE ONE WHO CAUSED THIS SITUATION, NOT HIM (and apart from being a hypocrite, he says that the Exes party is immature but decides to go anyway).

And on top of that they treat it as if the problem were Blitz's insecurity regarding his supposed ""relationship"", how Blitz feels that no one loves him is well stated, but using it in STOLAS OF ALL THE CHARACTERS FEELS LIKE A LACK OF RESPECT FOR THOSE WHO CAN REALLY DEVELOP THIS (like, I don't know, BARBIE WIRE, BLITZ'S SISTER, WHO DIDN'T EVEN APPEAR IN THE EPISODE!!!).

Let Blitz handle the situation the way he handles it, but WHY SHOULD HE GIVE STOLAS AN APOLOGY? SERIOUSLY WHAT MADE HIM OWE HIM AN APOLOGY? I understand it with his exes because well, Blitz gave them a hard time, BUT STOLAS?? It's like some kind of Stockholm syndrome, Blitz REALLY believed Stolas' manipulative bullshit.

The satanic ritual scene made me laugh tough, I'm not going to lie, the second/only positive point.

FOR GOD THE MUSICAL NUMBER WAS BASICALLY THE MOST SUGARCOEATED VICTIM BLAMING I HAVE EVER SEEN, how Stolas ignores all the vital information but at the same time DOES RECOGNIZE THE SITUATION ("i went too hard" and the image of Loo loo land where SEXUALLY HARASSES HIM ) is DISGUSTING.

It's like saying "ah yes, i did shit but it's your fault"

That's it, Verosika my beloved, the best character of the episode. although definitely if she knew the whole context she would have cut STOLAS' dick off.

The fact that they try to make us think that Stolas and Blitz are """over"" when we all know it's endgame is a waste of time, if they really wanted to fix this ship, they would take advantage of the episodes they have, they couldn't have unnecessary drama, but I guess Asking for quality is a lot these days with Vivziepop:)

In general, a deplorable episode that leaves aside aspects that could really help the plot and development of the characters (like Barbie Wyre and focusing more on Verosika for example) and that makes me hate the show more with each episode.

______

(ESPAÑOL)

Adivinen quién vio Apology Tour

POR DIOS, LA ACTITUD DE MOSQUITA MUERTA DE STOLAS ME TUVO PODRIDA DESDE EL MINUTO UNO ¿realmente este hombre adulto cree que es EL el que deberia estar enojado porque LE LLAMARON LA ATENCIÓN DEL DESEQUILIBRIO DE PODER EN SU DINAMICA CON BLITZ? flaco, madura.

APARTE DE QUE STOLAS LITERALMENTE LO MANIPULA PARA QUE SE SIENTA MAL "do you feel any remorse for WHAT YOU DO?" FLACO, VOS SOS QUIEN CAUSO ESTA SITUACIÓN, NO EL(y aparte un hipócrita, dice que la fiesta de Exes es inmadura pero decide ir igualmente).

Y encima lo tratan como si el problema fuera la inseguridad de Blitz respecto a su supuesta ""relación"", el como Blitz siente que nadie lo amara esta bien planteado, pero usarlo en STOLAS DE TODOS LOS PERSONAJES SE SIENTE COMO UNA FALTA DE RESPETO PARA LOS QUE REALMENTE PUEDEN DESARROLLAR ESTO(como, no se, BARBIE WIRE, LA HERMANA DE BLITZ, QUE NISIQUIERA APARECIO EN EL EPISODIO!!!).

que Blitz maneje la situación como lo maneje esta en personaje, pero PORQUE DEBERIA DARLE UNA DISCULPA A STOLAS??ENSERIO ¿QUE LE HIZO QUE LE DEBA UNA DISCULPA? lo entiendo con sus exes porque bueno, Blitz les hizo pasar un mal rato, PERO STOLAS?? es como una especie de sindrome de Estocolmo, Blitz REALMENTE se creyo la mierda manipuladora de Stolas.

La escena del ritual satánico me dio risa, no voy a mentir, el segundo/unico punto positivo.

POR DIOS EL NUMERO MUSICAL FUE BÁSICAMENTE EL VICTIM BLAMING MAS SUGARCOEATED QUE HE VISTO, el como Stolas ignora toda la información vital pero al mismo tiempo SI RECONOCE LA SITUACIÓN ("i went too hard" y la imagen de Loo loo land donde LO ACOSA SEXUALMENTE) es ASQUEANTE.

Es como decir "ah si, oa cague pero es tu culpa"

eso si, Verosika my beloved, el mejor personaje del episodio. aunque definitivamente si ella supiera todo el contexto le hubiera cortado A STOLAS el pito.

el hecho de que traten de hacernos pensar que Stolas y Blitz """terminaron"" cuando todos sabemos que es endgame es una perdida de tiempo, si realmente quisieran arreglar este ship, aprovecharian los episodios que tienen, no podrian drama innecesario, pero supongo que pedir calidad es mucho estos dias con Vivziepop:)

en general, un episodio deplorable que deja de lado aspectos que realmente pudieron ayudar a la trama y desarrollo de los personajes (como Barbie Wyre y centrarse mas en Verosika por ejemplo) y que hace que odie el programa cada episodio mas.

[lacroixgrimoire]

I'm not sure where the entire 'wendigo is a taboo word' thing even came from. I've actually read stories from like They Knew Both Sides of Medicine that discuss the influence of windigoag without this kind of internet-borne stigma against merely saying the word.

The book is an authentic Nehiyaw account of the windigo story (of course, Cree/Potawatomi/Ojibwe accounts of the windigo will differ) but it seems like some kind of weird spread of misinformation is going on.

Like it's not even tabooed or euphemized in the original text, it's just straight up there, wīhtikowa.

This 100%

I'm going to be honest and put my tinfoil hat on here real quick, I'm starting to think the whole 'saying it is taboo and will make it come getcha' may have originated from the Europeans attempting to prevent us from speaking our language and telling our stories because it's really effective at helping to eradicate accurate tribal mythology. Only ever hear that shit from non-natives.

I know some tribes/superstitions do think if you go around thinking or saying the name of an evil entity it will summon it, but, for one, this is still a child's superstition intended to keep your thoughts from being too negative and for two the mainstream words aren't even the *original* true names of the entities

It is apparently really commonly believed on Tumblr that if you see someone say wendigo you should go bother them and tell them it's offensive now. Fucking wild...

[neechees]

Do you know if there are more places to research the Rossdale powerplant in Edmonton? The city website just says "oh we reburied the remains so it's all good now lmao" which I don't believe. I tried looking at the Papaschase Band website too but their history page didn't get very much into it

Oh ill tell you about it right now in addition to getting you more sources lmfao

According to this, some of the more recent graves that they found at Rossdale plant were reburied in 2016 at the Fort Edmonton Traditional Burial Site. However, i think there was more graves than this, and wouldn't be surprised if there were more under the current plant location even now rather than just around it. According to my Kohkum, there was also more graves around the bridge that sits directly across the plant and leads to the other end of the River Valley.

The whole River Valley area was traditionally Blackfoot land first, but eventually other tribes would come in to trade and host various ceremonies together, particularly near where the river is (which is also where Rossdale plant is), and that's also where a lot of our dead are buried. So for hundreds of years, what is now called "Edmonton" was essentially a Native city & gathering place, and the reason this area was turned INTO a (colonized) city of Edmonton is because the settlers saw that a lot of Natives were here, and they thought it would be convenient to settle the area so they could convert us to Christianity, and/or replace the Indigenous population. This is true for a lot of other cities across Canada, such as Wetaskiwin, Heart Lake (which is where Native couples often got married). Edmonton also has a terrible history of VERY bad racism & segregation, land theft, and displacement.

I mention all this because the trouble is, this place has been occupied by Natives for thousands of years, and so there's graveyards & sacred spaces everywhere, especially near the river valley, and they would have started construction during the time they didn't give a shit if they were disturbing our dead OR living. I could believe they potentially moved the bones and reburied them when they were first building the plant, but I don't know WHERE or when they did it.

The land where Rossdale Plant is located now was traditionally called Pêhonân which means "waiting place" in Cree (this coincidentally is also the name for what is now Fort Carlton, Saskatchewan). All that I've just talked about in this video here under the section "Rossdale Flats" starting at 7:23. Below is an old photo of the Rossdale Flatts where Natives were still camping out

The Cree band Nêhiyawak has a band called "Pehonan" that did the score for the documentary Ôtênaw, and their cover for this album features the memorial statue that's there, but this is from a bottom view with the camera looking up. When upright, the memorial looks like a four poled tipi sitting atop a circle, which I've added as the right photo. I think the plant also thinks this memorial makes up for the colonization and such but obviously, it doesn't.

Now some lovely sources for you:

If you have a vimeo account, there's an oral history documentary called Ôtênaw about the city of Edmonton and the River Valley that iirc also talks about the Rossdale Plant (but again, the surrounding River Valley is also relevant to the plant) that you can watch here. I had the pleasure of meeting the person who narrates the video (Dwayne Donald) & learning from him directly.

Here's a video with a teensy bit of info

Here's a free PDF that talks about Edmonton & Rossdale plant

Here is a paper that talks about the history of the Rossdale Plant as well as mentioning the graveyards during the construction of the plant.

The last paper I linked, in my opinion, still reads from a more settler Canadian point of view and doesn't really take the Indigenous history of Edmonton there seriously, and so I'd say read it critically. One thing is that I find it interesting that in this paper while it does the bare minimum of mentioning its important history with First Nations, later it reverts to saying the area was a "wilderness" & "naturally shaped" & disregards the history once more to justify the construction of the plant (despite archeology in the River Valley finds that FN have been there for 12,000+ years). This paper also includes maps of the history of the plant's construction throughout the years, and includes a blank area that reads "no permanent human settlement, only First Nations camps" meaning, this paper doesn't take Indigenous people living at this site (or potential graveyards near there) as valid enough to call it our land, and once again, justifies the construction of the plant because no White people were there. Perhaps not out of malice, but it still very White centered and ignorant

So while several of these sources do say "we reburied the remains" (which I don't necessarily think they're lying, there were remains that were buried), I also don't think they're completely off the hook because it looks like the plant can barely stand to mention it's still on Native land at the end of the day.

[barbreypilled]

I know canonically Bobby B is like the archetypical guy who never got over being a high school quarterback but I also love him being like that neolib white guy who is just so……. like he needs everyone to know that he’s One Of The White People Who Actually Uses Seasoning but the seasoning in question is a vast collection of the most unpalatable hot sauces known to man and like a thing of Tony’s. also he’s so defensive about fresh garlic. he will see a cooking tiktok using jarlic and make like 10 burners to harass the person. Cersei has been slipping jarlic into his food for years and he hasn’t noticed and it gets her through the day. He’s So Progressive it ends up just being just very pathetically offensive like he got weirded out when he saw Loras eating Taco Bell. Every time he sees Barb at subway he takes her by the hands and says ‘you are a strong and beautiful nehiyaw iskwew I am sitting my white A-S-S down and listening’ and she’s like oh God he looked up the English to Cree dictionary again damnit Bobby just order and leave so I can go back to smoking in the walk-in and he’s just like ‘tansi 🫡 hiy hiy uhhhh… weenuk…?’ And like he does genuinely love Ned as a friend (and uh. the hot tub thing nobody talks about) but let’s be honest having a Native bestie is doing so much heavy lifting for his self esteem. However he is SO PATRIOTIC (wait is he not the prime minister? why does he live in Toronto what is he doing here oh fuck my expanded universe is collapsing) like he’ll gaze lovingly at a roll-up-the-rim cup or bagged milk or a loonie and be like ‘what a country’…. Including the Canonical Lyanna Thing in subway au has implications which make me very very sad so she gets to be alive but she’s that auntie who is single very much by choice and he’s down so horrible for her. he scrolls through her fb at night and sobs into his 3 AM Takis and rubs his eye and gets Taki dust in his eye. Lyanna lives on a ranch with a bunch of huskies and every time Sansa gets in trouble at school for being problematic or Arya gets in trouble for petty crimes or they both get in trouble for kicking the shit out of each other in the caf they get sent into the wilderness to do farm work

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Hi hi! I saw you're in a Gale x Gwen mood and open for questions!

Ok so stick with me here. Gwen is sick, common cold or whatever, but she's basically out of commission until she gets better. And around the same time, her kids supposed to have a sleepover with a couple friends hosted at the tower.

In the off chance that they don't cancel the sleepover, how well or poorly does Gale do with hosting a sleepover for the kiddos? Does he underestimate the want for snacks and overestimate the want for fancy adult food? Does he stay generally involved with what they're doing or keeps his distance and let's them entertain themselves? How does he entertain them? How much of a mess is the tower by the next morning?

Gale x Single Mom!Tav, Gale x OC, Gale x Gwen, Gale DADkarios

A/N: You have no idea how much this prompt inspired instant joy within me upon reading it. Steam of coniousness time, let's go!

Masterlist for context

Gale is caught between a rock and a hard place on this one; does he priotize looking after his wife or his daughters

Simple cold or not, Gale wants to ensure Gwen is being properly looked after; he knows Gwen has had to do a lot of this on her own and as a result has gotten into the habit of not asking for help

However, obviously Clara can't be left to her own devises, espeically with a gaggle of other children who will enable her

The way he settles this is understanding the best way he can help Gwen and Clara is looking after Clara while Gwen rests, with his simulacrum ready to chastise her if she attempts to leave the bed

I'm going with the idea that Clara is around 11/12 at this point so that also means Morgan is around 4/5

Gale has been at this whole being a dad thing for a while then so isn't completely lost; but that doesn't mean he's walking away with the coolest dad award any time soon

Clara is starting to get to that age were she can get embaressed by him and especially having her baby sister around with all her friends there

When the kids first arrive, Clara wants to bring them all to her room, leaving Morgan out and very sad because her sister is ignoring her

Gale has to take Morgan into the kitchen with him to "help" cook dinner

He does make something kid appropriete for dinner, and a lot of it; nobody in the Dekarios household is going home hungry

It's a good spread of healthy foods and not so healthy ones

Gale also is asking all of the kids about their lives and studies and how they're all doing; he's a teacher, he can't help but want to know (and he wants to know his kid's friends)

This embaresses Clara a little, but her friends answer and Gale will absolutely get side tracked by some story about either one of his adventures or something one of his students did

Honestly most of the kids are geuniely interested; Gale is a very good story teller in his own right

Gale might get distracted enough to start in on a story about Clara, but has the sense to stop himself before delving into anything too embaressing, but it's a close call

This is when Clara prompts they go do something else, like, right now

Gale will ask if they want anything or need him for anything which Clara will quickly answer that they're fine before scurrying off

This leaves Gale a little deflated

Like yes, Clara has always been independent; hell he was a lot like her at her age, but if there is one thing Gale hates it's feeling useless

Luckily he does have Morgan to look after too and so focuses on getting her ready for bed while keeping another ear on Clara to make sure nothing breaks

And you know how Clara is a tiefling?

And know how adolescent girls get into witches and spooky shit?

So imagine your Gale, having put your youngest to bed and walking up the stairs to check on your sick wife when all of the sudden you hear a scream and the bathroom door is on fire

Clara and her friends decided to play Bloody Mary; Clara actually got freaked out because one of them thought it would be funny to hide in the bathroom and say something creepy in the dark prompting Clara to cast Hellish Rebuke by accident on the thing she thought was behind her, namely the door

Luckily Gale is very familiar with fire of every sort and gets it out quickly before anybody is hurt

Clara and her friends start apologizing like crazy; they're so sorry, please don't tell their parents, please, please, please!!!

Gale is able to get them to calm down, nobody was hurt and gods know he's destroyed plenty of things in this tower by accident, if fact there was this one time...

He goes on and eventually they all do calm down, even laughing about it a bit, teasing Clara for being a scardy cat which prompts Clara to shoot back that one of them turned into a literal sheep when they saw a spider; it's all in good fun though

Clara does pull Gale aside though asking if he is going to tell mom; Gale swears she won't hear it from him, he'll put a minor illusion on the door until they can replace it

The kids all settle into bed, the adrenaline finally running its course and forcing them all to crash

By the time the next morning rolls around, Gale is making breakfast and they're all laughing and joking together

All of them agree that Mr. Dekarios is actually kind of cool

Gale counts this as a complete win

Of course, once Gwen does get better, she can't help but notice that while the door looks intact, when she goes to touch it her hand always has black soot all over it; does anyone care to explain?

[ohforficsakelibrary]

The Margay: Chapter 1

There Was Bogotá That One Time

series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santi ropes Frankie into a trial-run mission that doesn't go to plan but comes with one hell of a consolation prize.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC x Santiago Garcia in this part but only in this part because Bogotá was just the once. No age gap.

Word Count: 3.8K

Rating: Explicit 18+/ the beginnings of a threesome, Santi has a filthy mouth, oral over underwear bc Frankie’s a tease (f receiving) / Minors DNI

A/N: Hoooly cowww, thank you all so much for the love on Dominica as my first little foray into this world. And a special thank you to everyone who has liked and shared. Your comments (and tags!) have truly given me life.

OFC here is the reader from Dominica, although I may play with future side chapters where I flip to that pov again. No taglist, but I'll mark everything with #ohforficsake. I do hope you enjoy. Edited 11/3 - I've been asked so I will be doing a taglist, drop me a line if you're interested!

“Who the fuck else is out here, Pope?”

“No one,” Santiago sweeps the clearing in a quick circle, butt of his gun still dug into his shoulder, “no one else is supposed to be out here.”

Things hadn’t gone sideways and he hadn’t called anyone in.

And yet the mark stares back at him through lifeless eyes the same color as the leaflitter he threatens to stain red.

“Well,” Frankie gestures vaguely where he’s knelt down next to the still-warm body. “This ain’t local.”

The high-caliber bullet that blew out the back of the man’s skull is most assuredly not Nicaraguan-made.

“We have to move, Fish,” Santi says before letting out a sharp whistle. A signal to the men holding the perimeter to circle up.

“Nah, if whoever did this wanted us dead…” He lets the words hang in humid jungle air, propping the brim of his cap up just far enough to swipe damp hair from his forehead. “The angle of it’s weird though,” Frankie cants big dark eyes up into the trees even though that makes no goddamn sense.

The men have moved in by now and one of them lets out a low hiss.

“El Caucel.”

“Crees eso?” Santiago's gaze cuts towards him and then over at two other men nodding in agreement.

Two more from their team had departed towards the trucks the moment they saw the carnage.

Frankie stands upright with knitted brows before finding Santiago’s gaze.

He’s met with an imperceptible shake of the head.

And so he doesn’t open his mouth again until they’re back in their hotel room.

_____

“You got an explanation for that, Pope?”

“Not a good one.” Santi sits on the edge of a twin bed and unlaces his boots before toeing them off and flopping backwards.

Frankie stays standing, hands on his hips.

“Someone’s out there with high-caliber shit we didn’t even have as Deltas and that’s all you have to say.”

“That’s all I fuckin’ know, Fish. Look, at least we’re on the same side, ok? For now we’re on the same side. Fuck, I need a shower.”

He’s on his feet now. Clearly rattled.

“What’s El Caucel? A group? Where’d they get that kind of heat?”

“I don’t know, Fish. I don’t know if El Caucel is one guy or five…”

Santi doesn’t realize it but he’s pacing the room.

He’s useless like this.

“Go take a fuckin’ shower, Pope.”

“I need a fucking beer.”

_____

Frankie doesn’t speak again until they’re both perched on plastic chairs at the back of an open-air bar, cumbia blaring through tired but persistent speakers, waves lapping at the shore nearly on beat.

“I don’t like it, Pope," he mutters after a sip of beer. "I don’t like that people we don’t know, using shit that we don’t have, know the same things we do," each point punctuated by a finger stabbed into the table.

“They’re after the same people that we are, Fish. We were fifteen minutes late, more than likely that was our backup. I have a call out to my guy, but he’s out of pocket until tomorrow. Can we at least just leave it at that for the night?”

Somehow Santiago’s nerves aren’t as frayed as they were an hour ago.

“This isn’t what I signed up for, Pope.”

“You signed up to kill bad men and get paid, Fish. A bad man is dead today and I don’t know if you took a look at your bank account, but it’s $25K heavier than it was this morning.”

“We didn’t pull that trigger.”

“Take the fuckin’ win, Catfish.”

It's low out of Santiago's mouth. Like an order.

Frankie doesn’t run like this. Not with unknown eyes on them. And he doesn’t take money for jobs he didn’t finish. He agreed not to ask who was bankrolling this little excursion, he trusted Santi’s judgment enough for that, but things were starting to fall out of alignment.

The last time that happened they lost someone.

He doesn’t like how fucking cool Santi is right now either.

And Santiago pipes up as though he can hear the gears in Fish's head gnashing against one another. “Look, Fish. You’ve got a cold beer, the Caribbean fuckin’ Ocean right there, you’re in a beautiful tropical country instead of freezing your balls off in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere in February..."

"...There are hot girls in this bar.”

“Pope.”

“Do you trust me, Fish?”

Dark eyes lock over the table, Frankie searching for something Santi won’t give away. It takes at least a minute for the tight line of Fish’s mouth to soften into his usual pout.

“It’s a sea.”

“What?” Santi swallows a mouthful of beer.

“The Caribbean Sea.”

“Right, fuckin’, okay.” Santi grins. “The goddamn Caribbean Sea. Just enjoy it, Catfish.”

It’s not a good enough explanation, not by a fucking long shot, but he hates admitting that Santi is right. For the next few hours, there’s nothing they can do.

And for a moment, Corona and lime on his tongue and the thought of $25K in his bank account makes him ignore the insistent scratching in the back of his brain.

Dark eyes sail over Santi’s shoulder and happen to land on a woman reading in the corner, all brown skin and black curls that skim the tops of her shoulders. He can't help but notice the way she's left a few buttons on her linen shirt open.

Can't help but notice the way it allows the curve of one breast to peek out when she reaches for her drink.

“I saw her first.” Santi knows exactly where he’s looking.

“I wouldn’t, actually,” Frankie attempts to clarify, but his half-hard cock says otherwise.

“I would.”

“We’re sharing a room, Pope.”

“I’ll put a sock on the doorknob. Plus there was Bogotá that one time,” Santi arches a brow and grins before draining the rest of his beer.

Bogotá that one time and a blonde between the two of them.

There’s more space than you'd think on a twin bed.

“With $25K you can get your own goddamn room.” Fish quips.

Bogotá was before his girl. Before his kid.

“So could you. Honestly. I think you need it, Francisco. Come on, what happens in Nicaragua…”

“Nah, I’m…”

“Yeah, you need it. I’m doin’ it.”

Pope is out of his chair before Fish can bite back.

"Fuckin’ idiot," Frankie mutters under his breath and directs his gaze out to sea.

“Excuse me, miss?” Santiago purrs in Spanish, leaning over the woman’s table, his most disarming smile playing on his lips.

She angles huge green eyes up from her book and waits for Santi to continue.

“My friend over there,” Santi nods his head in Frankie’s direction. “Thinks you look like you could use a refill.”

“Your friend, or you?” She answers in the same tongue.

Santi’s teeth catch on his bottom lip.

“Myee, my uh, my friend.” Santi slips in English. “Mi amigo.”

Freud would have loved that one.

The woman sets her book aside and reaches for a packet of cigarettes, eyes cutting over to Frankie as she taps the top of the box on the table. He's lit up by red and yellow light and staring out across sand.

Plush lips wrapped around the mouth of his beer bottle, wishing the ocean would come crashing through this fuckin’ bar.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Freddie.”

“Tell Freddie I’ll take a gin and soda with lime, but only if he does his dirty work himself and sits down here with me.” She lights up a cigarette. “I suppose you can stay too.”

Santi lets out a sharp whistle that has Frankie on higher alert than he’d care to admit.

“Gin and soda,” Santi calls over his shoulder. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Arabela,” she tosses the packet on top of her book.

“Sam,” Santi offers his hand and she takes it, surprised when Santi presses his lips to her knuckles.

Surprised in a turned-off way.

"What are you reading?"

She lifts the packet of Parliaments so he can glance at the title.

The Living Daylights.

"You like spy novels?"

"I think they're funny."

Frankie appears at last, two fresh beers, one gin, and three shots of tequila balanced easily between two massive hands.

The tequila was an impulse but he needs something stronger than Corona if this is Bogotá Round Two.

Which apparently it became the moment Frankie stood up from his seat.

“Freddie, this is Arabela.”

“Mucho gusto.” Frankie’s hand is shy.

All of Frankie is shy.

“I do speak English, if that’s more comfortable.”

“An American.” Santi perks up. “Where are you from, sweetheart?”

“Florida.”

“Ahh, Texas,” he jabs a thumb towards Frankie and then his own chest “and Miami. What part of Florida?”

“Orlando.”

Jesus this is boring.

_____

She actually just showed up here for dinner and a buzz because it was five minutes down the beach from her hotel. A function of convenience, nothing more.

And now with dinner over, she finds herself in need of another gin.

She’s up at the bar when two more men wander in. Not locals but not uncomfortable here either. Military, past or present, from the sound of their boots on the wood planks. 

She quickly steals a glance over her shoulder. Military boys aren’t uncommon down here, and frankly not particularly interesting, but these two aren’t standard issue.

One of them looks like a good time and the other looks like trouble. 

Trouble slips into a plastic chair at a table in the corner, choosing the seat that allows him to face the door. Good Time on the other hand is skating dark eyes over her bare legs.

She runs the top of one foot over her calf just for kicks as the bartender hands over fresh gin, and turns to leave the very moment that Good Time sidles up.

God it’s too easy. 

She’s not here for this tonight. 

But it’s been three, or was it four, months and she’s not opposed to it either.

Trouble is heated about something when his friend returns with beers.

He’s cute. 

Not in a classically handsome way, his friend has that in spades.

Cocksure, chiseled jaw, perfectly coiffed hair. 

No, Trouble is cute in a wound spring kind of way.

The kind of way that looks absolutely beautiful coming wildly undone.

What the fuck is in this gin tonight. 

Ten minutes later when Good Time struts over, she decides she definitely isn't opposed. 

_____

“What are you doing down here, baby girl?”

“Vacation. Just needed a break from work, I guess.”

Her phone buzzes face-down on the table and Santi Sam laughs.

“I like your phone case,” he grins as he pulls an identical one from his pocket.

Jesus Christ its a regular fucking Amazon phone case, how do we move this along.

“So what are you boys up to?”

He’s probably going to say something stupid like…

“Just appreciating the scenery.”

Yeah.

She checks her watch. It’s barely gone 19:30, she could still have a perfectly enjoyable night on her own. 

Nope.

“Look,” she leans over the table as Good Time leans in and Trouble leans back, “I’m sure that works on someone else, but today’s not your day.”

Santi braces for the crash. 

“You didn’t come over here just to chat and I’m more than happy to save all of us the grief. What’s on the table?”

“Both of us.” 

No one at the table was expecting Frankie to be the one to speak up.

Pope shoots Frankie a look that swims with ‘hadn’t expected but not opposed...’

“If that’s what you want.” Frankie rumbles, arm draped over the back of his chair. 

Trouble.

Something searing and unspoken in a language that Pope doesn’t understand passes between them.

“What’s your word, sweetheart?” He continues with the barest nod of his head in her direction, eyes dark. And starved. 

 “Bogotá.”

She hadn’t overheard them. There’s no way she could have with the music in this place.

And Frankie throws back his tequila because Frankie's not a man to question the Universe when it hands him something.

“Close the tabs,” a firm hand squeezes Santi’s shoulder as Fish stands. “Hers and ours. You. With me.”

Her with him finds them both outside, her back against the wall of the bar, cigarette nestled between her fingers, Frankie close enough that the heat coming off of him sets her nerves tingling.

He hasn’t laid a hand on her yet. One’s braced on the wall near her head, the other on his hip.

He’s angled such that she has room to slip away.

“Are you sure you want this? You can leave right now and I’ll get him out of here and we’ll pretend we never met.”

Dark eyes track the fingers that bring the cigarette to her lips.

“Is that what you want?”

“I didn’t ask about me,” he rumbles, shifting slightly closer and answering her question with his form.

“Right now,” she tilts her head to blow smoke away from him, “there’s nothing I want more.”

Frankie reaches for her cigarette, freely offered, taking a puff before he dashes it out. His fingers move to trail feather-light across her collarbone and over the buttons of her shirt nudging it open a hair.

He glances back up at her eyes and then her lips, plush and parted and waiting, and Frankie decides he can't wait any longer.

He slides the brim of his cap around backwards as his hand slides up her neck, thumb brushing her bottom lip before he replaces it with his mouth.

When Pope breezes through the door, Frankie nabs him by the back of the shirt, tongue never leaving her mouth. He pulls, slamming Santi against the wall before tearing himself away and taking a step back. His thumb comes up to brush the corner of his mouth, surveying them both.

Her dark hair is wild from his greedy fists, lips and chin reddened from his attention.

Santiago’s eyelids are heavy as he stares back.

“You started without me.” It’s restrained, darkly matter-of-fact. She reaches her hand over to wrap around the back of Pope’s neck and guides him to her, tasting his bottom lip and then his tongue. She slants half-closed eyes over to hold Frankie’s stare as she moans into Pope’s mouth.

Frankie nearly reaches out to rip her away.

“We gotta go,” is what he opts for instead.

_____

Not five minutes later, Santi’s back is pressed against the door to their hotel room. Her back is pressed to his chest. And Frankie is on his knees in front of her, nose pressed into the crotch of her cargo shorts.

Santi’s lips skate up the side of her neck as his hands splay across her stomach under her shirt, hips already searching for friction. She reaches back intending to slip her phone and card holder out of the back pockets of her shorts out of the need to feel Pope there unimpeded, pressed flush against her. He catches on, taking them both from her hands and placing them on the side table, fingertips bypassing two layers of cotton to slip just under the waistband of her underwear. He pulls her back against him by her hipbones, grinding the hardness in his jeans against the curve of her ass and she whimpers at the way it puts her just out of reach of Frankie's mouth.

Frankie pulls his shirt off up over his head, taking his backwards cap with it, and tossing them both over his shoulder into the room. He stands to occupy her mouth with his own while Pope unbuttons his shirt and lands it over the luggage rack. Santi meets Frankie’s eyes over her shoulder and nods. Fish breaks the kiss as Pope’s hands pull her against his chest once more. 

She leaves one hand on Frankie’s cheek and reaches the other up to tangle in Santiago’s hair. 

“We’re gonna take such good care of you, baby,” Santiago purrs into her ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he continues, mouth hot on her neck.

Frankie watches for a moment, taking in the way her plush lips are parted before he’s on his knees again. 

He needs to be here. Needs to feel the heat of her on his face. Needs to get rid of this fucking fabric.

“I’m gonna hold you right here,” Santiago purrs, skating his nose over the shell of her ear, “and he’s gonna eat that pretty pussy of yours,” one hand rides further up her stomach under her shirt, “because that’s his favorite thing in the world.”

Frankie can feel goosebumps appear where he’s stroking his palms over her calves, lips tracing the chill up her thighs.

“Would you like that, pretty girl?” Santi voice is a heady whisper now, and her head falls back into the crook of his shoulder as she hums in approval.

“Need to hear you say it, baby,” Frankie murmurs against her skin.

“God, yes,” she moans and immediately Santi’s mouth finds hers, fingers making quick work of the button on her shorts. Frankie helps her out of her sandals and Pope unzips her, thumbs sliding the fabric down over her hips, passing the task off to Frankie’s fingers to take the rest of the way before moving to do the same with her underwear.

“Leave it,” Frankie bats Pope’s hands away, settling one of his own against the curve of her hip, running the other up over the back of one thigh before breathing heat against her mound. She reflexively cants her hips back against Pope’s and he hears the phone in his back pocket knock against the door before it’s tossed carelessly along with his wallet to join hers on the side table. She runs one hand over Frankie’s forearm, fingers of the other still wound in Santi’s hair.

Plush lips trace the seams of her underwear, falling everywhere but where she wants them.

And so she reaches both hands down, tangling fingers in his soft curls, short nails impatiently scraping at his scalp and she feels him smirk against her inner thigh.

Frankie hooks a hand around the back of her knee, guiding her leg over his shoulder.

“Hold her, Pope.”

Santi’s arm hooks firmly around her ribcage.

She spares a thought for the use of a call sign before suddenly there’s pressure and damp, open-mouthed heat breathed against the sodden cotton covering her core. The leg that’s still on the ground buckles, but Santiago holds her firm, grinning against her mouth.

They work well together, these two.

Frankie’s tongue traces the contours of her folds through the fabric, humming with pleasure at what little taste of her he’s able to get at. He can already tell from the feel of this alone that she’s bare below the cotton and his cock jumps at the thought.

And his cock jumps again at the thought of sharing the thought.

“Pretty girl?” Frankie rumbles, teeth catching gently against her mound as he angles his eyes up at her. “If I were to take these off…” he hooks a finger through the waistband of her panties and lets it snap against her flushed skin.

“I wouldn’t find anything under there, would I?”

He pauses and Santiago feels her grin against his mouth.

“I don’t think you would, Fish.”

“No, I think,” the bridge of his nose bumps against her clit just so and she groans against Santi’s lips. “I think you’re completely bare under here.” He inhales deep and her fingers tighten in his curls. “All of that smooth…soft…skin.” Each word punctuated by a kiss before he sucks, open mouthed against the core of her.

Pope has to hold her again.

Santi’s free hand skates up to palm her right shoulder where cream linen has fallen open before slipping his fingers under the strap of her bra, guiding it down her arm.

And Santiago’s not so much in control so much as he’s just the one they let speak.

“Is he good, princesa?” Santi asks against her lips in the lowest register of his voice. “Does his mouth feel good on you?” Santiago reaches down over her collarbone, under her shirt and bra to palm her breast, one arm still firmly locked around her ribcage.

“Fuck,” she gasps, “so good.”

Frankie hums his thanks and moves a little higher to flick his tongue over her clit. He dwells here a while, alternating light and fast with the tip of his tongue with slower, firmer strokes with the flat of it. The cotton of her thong is soaked from her slick and his mouth, and it’s not long before she turns her lips away from Santiago, panting and moaning in time with Frankie’s flicks.

“She’s close, Fish,” Pope breathes against her pulse.

“Mmm hmm,” he hums, the rumble of it causing her to buck her hips against him. Frankie lets go from where strong fingers have been digging into the thigh over his shoulder and brings his hand to her hip, both palms now holding her firm against Santi.

She can feel how hard he is through the denim that scratches against the curve of her ass. How it's taking all of Santiago's control not to grind against her there. Not to send her knocking against Fish's teeth.

Neither of these men have actually put skin against anything that matters, and yet she’s falling apart between them. 

No sooner does the thought cross her mind than Frankie hooks a thumb into the crotch of her thong, pulling the gusset to the side.

He hums deep and low because he was right.

He’s just about to lick a stripe through her glistening folds when a clattering buzz rings out into the room.

All three of them startle.

Santi spares a glance down at the side table where the offending phone is casting blue light into the room.

His contact’s number.

“Fuuck,” he growls, “I gotta get this. Take her to bed, Fish.” Frankie lets her leg down from his shoulder, “and don’t you fucking dare make her come without me.”

“No promises,” he mumbles between kisses, allowing her to move him until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sits and she straddles his hips and he bucks up against her, telegraphing what's on offer.

She presses her forehead against his as he fights to nip at her jaw, cursing softy at the feel of him before her fingers scramble to unzip his jeans.

Frankie grins, arm wrapping tight around her waist, and grinds his crotch against her heat as Santi picks up the phone.

“Hey honey, I uh...I can’t really talk right now,” Santi’s voice rings out from the hallway as if he wasn’t half naked and panting.

She props herself up briefly without breaking Frankie’s kisses in an effort to quiet the moans that he can’t seem to keep in his throat. He runs his palms down her sides to fit on her hips and pull but she’s strong. 

“Santiago? Well, now that’s interesting.”

“How...how's that, babe, you called me?”

“Santiago, this isn’t your phone.”

And Santiago's blood runs cold.

next

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

[cherotto]

Gente recontra mamagüeba be like: "Noooo, you can't ship Haddotin cause of the age gap, Tintin is a teenager", A FUCKING TEENAGER???? DUDE, CAN WE REALLY SAY THAT TINTIN IS A TEENAGER WHEN LITERALLY ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS THEY TELL YOU ABOUT HIM IS THE FACT THAT HE IS A JOURNALIST (GRADUATE), THAT HE LIVES IN (HIS OWN PAID) APARTMENT, AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF HE HAS AN EXCELLENT HANDLE ON FIREARMS AND PILOTING AIRCRAFT, LIKE, OH, TINTIN?, THE SAME GUY WHO LONG BEFORE HE MET HADDOCK WAS ALREADY TRAVELING AROUND THE WORLD (WITHOUT ANY ADULT SUPERVISION)?. CHAMO DE VERDAD LAMENTO TENER QUE DECIRLO DE ESTA FORMA, PERO ES QUE TIENES QUE SER LICENCIADO EN SER GAFO SI CREES QUE ES UN CARAJITO, I'M SORRY, BUT I CAN'T IMAGINE ANY 15 Y/O KIDDO DOING THAT SHIT. At the very least that guy must be 24 y/o.

ALSO

ENCIMA

[beachyserasims]

Tag Game Questionnaire!!

Thank you @jayveesim and @acidheaddd for the tags <3 i'm sorry that these take me so long now a days!!

Last song I listened to: Well I have Saturn by SZA stuck in my head, but I think the actual song I listened to last was Love On Top by Beyoncé (I heard it for the first time last week, what is wrong with me lol)

Favorite place: In my head or real life? jk jk There is one swimming spot in a creek around here that has a rocky ledge to jump off into a deep pool section, and right next to it is a sandy beachy are that gradually drops down into it. I fucking love it there. (It's secluded so I love to skinny dip there!!!)

Favorite book(s): Bad Cree by Jessica Johns is a great book, i love horror

Currently reading: my fave simblr stories like TFA or COTF and more. I'm always looking for new ones too

Favorite tv show: Right now i'm watching Interview With A Vampire and it's sooooo goooood. (I cant believe I waited so long to watch it cause I love vamps and THIS is just pure excellence. Thank you tumblr for shit-talking the movie the other day which made me go look for the series.)

Favorite food: Right now I would have to say Chicken Masala with some naan, rice, and mango lassi <3 <3 <3

I'll tag @blvckentropy , @dawnvy , @honeyjars-sims , @shesthespinstersimmer , @eljeebee , @crsentfairy

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Odd Ones In" Episode Followup, Part 3

And so we move on to Part 3, la-dee-dee, la-dee-dee.

Let's go!

I noted this before, but the fact that they now have a special effect for when gadgets are combined so that it makes a new gadget entirely is a fucking hell of an upgrade over the "stacking" we got before, so to speak. Keep it up!

Not gonna lie, I half-expected the man to whip out a fedora and throw it on his head and do the "m'lady" meme.

Opie being in the Mail Department before going to the Department of Help is honestly a move I was not expecting. Though it does make her promotion to the latter department make a lot of sense.

*slowly raises hand*

...

Are they lesbian mo- *bonk x3*

Had I not seen an ice cream shop in a garage with barn doors before, I'd have laughed at this and said this was insanely weird shit.

...Okay, maybe not for Britain...but still.

The audio balancing is so awful here that even I had to cover my ears. And keep in mind that I may have autism, but my hearing sensory issues largely ebbed away a good several years ago and things like vacuums don't bother me as much anymore as they did in childhood.

That being said, I'd scream if I were being served to people so they could eat me, too.

Keep hammering it in, episode, and maybe your audience's feeble minds will be able to comprehend it as real soon enough.

ONE MORE SHOT FOR "ASSISTANT'S CREE-EEEED", ONE MORE SHOT OF WHISKEEEEEEEEEEEY-

The fact that an Un-Scream-inator exists at all raises some very horrifying questions.

It also makes a wonderful prompt for a horror fic...and my gears are turning already.

See, this is amusing to me because Full Circle, a well-known fic in the fandom, had Olive and Oscar being given free meals for saving the world.

In a way...I guess you could say this makes that canon, even if it's just ice cream.

*the most bitter, fake laughter ever seen in man*

I can see now why he's associated with the Terrible Three. The bastard spins stories with enough skill to make it in fucking politics and denies a girl a chance for free ice cream when she just arrived in a new city.

But also, Orla was also involved in a pastry war, does not enjoy traditional cakes (at least not until later), and is one of the "living legend" agents I mentioned earlier. Thread's been cut, and fuck you and your scummy shit, Ozzie.

the man fakes his new friend having trauma from fighting in a war

she eats the ice cream anyway

The irony is rawer than freshly-cut steak.

...I'm sorry, I had to replay this at least five times to make sure I heard what I heard...

The Odd Squad History Book?

There's a fucking history book???

Then what in the ass-laden fuck did we need Olympia's eidetic Odd Squad memory for? What did we need Olive's little historian side for? What kind of ASS-BACKWARDS BOOK IS THIS.

I'm sorry, but I need them to rectify this yesterday because the only way they could possibly add insult to injury is to shout me out directly, and that has a 0.001% chance of actually happening.

Fandom, let's get crackin' on making an actual history book that's accurate. With blackjack, and all 13 living-legend agents!

"I'm Orli with an 'i', from Niagara Falls."

"Which side?"

"I- what?"

"There are two sides, no?"

"...The Canada side."

"Oh."

"Anyone who goes to the New York side is deemed unfit to serve."

"...Oh."

"You don't wanna know."

"No, I don't."

"It seems that all the oddness has been getting under control."

Suddenly the plot of the finale is making a lot more sense to me now. "Strength in numbers" is a very lost concept on this Director and her agents.

"Hold on, that thing was an egg?!"

Suddenly the theory of Opie not being here for very long makes a lot more sense to me now. "Failing a spot check" is a very lost concept on this agent.

Oh, this guy and his dramatic gasps...Lord, I love him.

If Ozzie thinks some random-ass agent named Orly from Texas is the best agent in the world, then do I got about 13 bridges to sell him.

And before I sell him those bridges, I'm knocking down the pedestal he's placed Orly on.

To be fair, she does have a point...but the girl is taking being in a new country a bit too casually for my liking.

You're telling me my dumb lil' American ass can land in Britain and be accustomed to it in the span of a few hours? Off you will fuck. No way in hell.

"Everything seems really quiet here."

Even if I hadn't read "and Captain O unable to help" from the synopsis, I would have already taken this as a red flag shoved into my eye holes.

Oh, the inverse dolly zoom! I don't think we've seen that trick before. Nice to see!

Onom's busy running in place telling them about the egg, and Orli, the cheerful innocent gal she is, decides this is a good time to introduce herself.

Bless her heart, and I mean that so genuinely it even hurts me.

Okay, I wasn't expecting the screaming and running agent-in-training in the background. That's a delightful touch and a great mix-up from the days of yore when background agents, for the most part, just existed.

It's...his name...IS SHORT FOR ONOMATOPOEIA????????

WE ESTABLISHED THAT WAS DR. O'S FULL-ASS NAME IN ODDTUBE FOREVER AND A HALF AGO HOW FUCKING DARE YOU.

This, folks, is why the staff needs fans on the team.

Let's be honest: if this episode weren't all over the place, this would have been a much longer gag than it actually is.

And frankly, I'm glad it wasn't that long at all.

Oh they didn't just seal her in an ice cube -- they sealed her in ice IN THE FUCKING ROOM OF ODDNESS.

For a newly-hatched creature, that is downright fucking sadistic, strong-ass Director or not. At least when Oprah was frozen in an ice cube she was fine. Same goes for Oscar, and same goes for the Mobile Unit agents.

Aaaand another shot of alcohol for "Dance Like Nobody's Watching" ripping!

...mmmmmthworldspsinnign...

Onom is easily my favorite character of the main cast and I haven't even gotten through the entire episode yet. The man is just vibing. He's a chill vibin' man. How can I not love him?

Okay, this is just as sadistic. It's trapping agents in rooms and letting them freeze to death, which is arguably worse than just trapping them unmoving in blocks of ice.

(On to Part 4!)

[xjulixred45x]

Vincent gives HUGE karen parent vibes its so funny😅🤣

HAHAHAHA THE WORST THING IS THAT IT'S TRUE. Vince is totally a Karen.

Vince already gives off strong vibes of being a person who believes he is entitled to many things (like when he used Rody at his party as an employee outside of work and without paying him), and he definitely passes this sense of entitlement on to Karin ( or tries to, because in Vincent's head, it's normal and "natural").

I mentioned it a little in the post about Manon, but Vince is definitely very picky about the quality of things for Karin, in every way. It's almost a little creepy/worrying.

babysitters for example, Vince does a VERY extensive interview to make sure it is appropriate to leave his daughter approx. 8 hours with this person. and probably on the babysitter's first day he has a "long shift" when in reality he observes how the babysitters act with Karin (if they discover it? If they give Karin food that is not from the house? Do they even slightly raise their voice to Karin even if she did something inappropriate? FIRED IMMEDIATELY).

The type of parent who thinks His Daughter is an angel and can do no wrong (i mean, he's Right. Karin is a bby).

I can see Vince as that type of father who, if he sees that Karin clothes are torn (like in the game), he immediately throws them away and buys her new ones (and much more expensive).

Seeing as the game's author describes him as "underwelming supportive", Vince is probably the calmest and most low-key empowerment of a soccer dad. I mean, he support Karin to improve and won't STOP insisting on that until she reaches her maximum potential. Although he doesn't really react much to Karin's achievements, rest assured that he is really proud of her (he's the kind of dad who makes a shelf ONLY for Karin's awards/recognitions. He will feel personally offended if you don't give Karin a compliment from AT LEAST 3 of them).

Vince takes great advantage of his reputation (and character) to get his way. things like talking shit about people if they aren't nice to Karin, threatening to ruin someone's name if they don't tutor Karin, blackmailing others for Karin's benefit, getting her out of school for being "beneath her academic level", everything.

(related to the above) DEFINITELY A HELL TO HAVE AS A FATHER-IN-LAW, just thinking about the poor soul who has to put up with Vince's passive aggressive (and aggressive aggressive) comments, watching him OVER sharpen his kitchen knives when he's at the house, threatening to sink their name and that of their family if they EVEN raises their hand to his daughter... would definitely be terrifying.

Besides, it is never enough, no matter how good the intentions are, how much money they have or how good they are, Vince will always have SOMETHING to say. The most that Karin's partner would get from a good relationship with Vince would be total disinterest. And honestly it's better to leave it that way.

Overall, having Vince as a father would be HELL for EVERYONE except Karin, although that's the point, right?

_______

JAJAJAJA LO PEOR ES QUE ES VERDAD. Vince es totalmente una Karen.

de por si Vince da fuertes vibras de ser una persona que se cree con derecho a muchas cosas(como cuando uso a Rody en su fiesta como empleado fuera del trabajo y encima sin pagarle), y definitivamente el pasa este sentido de derecho a Karin(o intenta hacerlo, porque en la cabeza de Vincent, es normal y "natural").

lo mencione un poco en el post acerca de Manon, pero Vince definitivamente es muy exigente en cuanto a la calidad de las cosas para Karin, en todo sentido. es casi un poco creepy/preocupante.

las niñeras por ejemplo, Vince hace una entrevista MUY extensa para asegurarse de que sea apropiado dejar a su hija aprox. 8 horas con esta persona. y probablemente el primer dia de la niñera el tenga un "turno largo" cuando en realidad observa como actuan las niñeras con Karin (¿si lo descubren?¿si le dan a Karin comisa que no es de la casa?¿le alzan mínimamente la voz a Karin aun si ella hizo algo inapropiado? DESPEDIDOS INMEDIATAMENTE).

Tipo de padre que cree que su hija es un angel y no puede ni matar una mosca(aunque en este caso es verdad lol, Karin es un angelito).

puedo ver a Vince como ese tipo de padre que si ve que tienes la ropa rota(como en el juego) directamente la desecha y te compra otra nueva(y mucho mas cara).

viendo que el autor del juego lo describe como "decepcionadamente alentador"(? no se como traducirlo) probablemente Vince sea el empoderamiento mas tranquilo y lowkey de un soccer dad. osea, apoya a Karin a mejorar y no PARARA de insistir en eso hasta que ella alcance su maximo potencial. aunque realmente no reacciona mucho a los logros de Karin, ten por seguro que el realmente esta orgulloso de ella(es el tipo de padre que hace una estanteria SOLO para los premios/reconocimientos de Karin. se sentira personalmente ofendido si no le das a Karin un cumplido por AL MENOS 3 de ellos).

Vince se aprovecha mucho de su reputación (y caracter) para salirse con la suya.

cosas como hablar mierda de las personas si no son buenas con Karin, amenazar con hundir el nombre de alguien si no le da clases particulares a Karin, chantajear a los demas por el beneficio de Karin, sacarla de la escuela por estar "debajo de su nivel académico", de todo.

(relacionado con lo anterior)DEFINITIVAMENTE UN INFIERNO DE TENER COMO SUEGRO, el solo pensar en la pobre alma que tiene que aguantar los comentarios pasivo agresivos(y agresivos agresivos) de Vince, verlo afilar DEMACIADO sus cuchillos de cocina cuando esta en su casa, amenazar con hundir su nombre y el de su familia si SIQUIERA le levanta la mano a su hija... definitivamente seria aterrador.

aparte, nunca es suficiente, no importa que tan buenas sean las intenciones, cuanto dinero tengan o lo buenos que sean, Vince siempre tendra ALGO que decir. lo maximo que obtendria la pareja de Karin a una buena relación con Vince seria total desinteres. y sinceramente es mejor dejarlo asi.

en general, tener a Vince como padre seria UN INFIERNO para TODOS menos para Karin, aunque ese es el punto ¿no?

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[sissa-arrows]

Oh my God I just saw your previous post. I'm a French-speaker from Québec and I absolutely hate those "We Québécois are so oppressed because we speak French and not English!!! :(" people! Like, oh you're oppressed? If you do care about Quebéc, then why don't you start with the Algonquian? The Mi'kmaq? The Cree?

White people who speak French are the best at pretending to be the victims after Zionists.

But white québécois? Bitches are actual colonizers they are actual settlers and they have the audacity to claim they are oppressed all while being racists piece of shit toward the actual indigenous people and toward other people of color in the region.

That being said I don’t know if y’all are aware but a bunch of French colonizers in Algeria, Pieds noirs, actually chose to go to Canada and Quebec specifically at the independence of Algeria. Like bitch couldn’t imagine themselves living on a land that wasn’t stolen from indigenous people and they couldn’t live without being settlers. And you know what they (and their descendants) say? That they love it and that they are so lucky and grateful to be there and not in France where they would be hated (France doesn’t hate these settlers they actually love them but there’s enough people who know history to know that a white guy born in Algeria in 40’s or earlier is a huge red flag.)

Quebec also had a lot of colonizers from “Rhodesia” choosing to live there at the independence instead of going back to the UK.

White settlers who get kicked out and refuse to stop being settlers seem to love Quebec which explains a lot of things.

[neechees]

There was a video posted on youtube comparing the similarities between Cree & Ojibwe & some moniyaw was like "dont they get tired of saying such long words?" Like idk don't yoy get tired of saying stupid shit?

[lucyfrostblade]

🪢 A headcanon about their family, 📓 A headcanon about their hobbies, 👗 A headcanon about their clothes, 🔪 A headcanon relating to fighting/violence (for both ivy and lucy please i love your takes)

headcanon ask game !!

Lucy:

🪢 A headcanon about their family

one of lucy's parents (i say she has two moms but that's unrelated to the current headcanon) was born in the mountains of chaos and moved to elmville with her own parents when she was an older teen, around 16 or 17. the official reasoning was that it was safer to raise a family in elmville and a desire to live a life less rooted in survival and more in living, but the real reason but that lucy's grandparents had gotten some vague communications from ruvina that some time in the coming decades that a frostblade would be needed in elmville.

📓 A headcanon about their hobbies

credit to @vortahoney for starting this conversation with the other day !! lucy reads sad girl books, be it weird sad girl or hot sad girl. an absolutely remarkable thing by hank green, severence by ling ma, our wives under the sea by julia armfield, my heart is a chainsaw by stephen graham jones, olga dies dreaming by xochitl gonzalez, gods of want by k-ming chang, bad cree by jessica johns, the secret lives of church ladies by deesha philyaw.

i think i said to spence that i don't think she would read horror or the weirder books yesterday but i have changed my mind. she doesn't read the goreriest stuff or even truly weird stuff, but she doesn't shy away from it either.

👗 A headcanon about their clothes

lucy dresses like it's winter every single day. every since she became a frost gensasi, it's been hard for her to stay warm. it doesn't exactly bother her, it's comfortable, but she misses it, you know? so she's always wearing sweaters even on the hottest summer day, trying to chase the warmth she remembers from early childhood.

🔪 A headcanon relating to fighting/violence (for both ivy and lucy please i love your takes)

she's depicted in the official art as having a morning star and i am a little bit obsessed with that. it implies either a strength that isn't necessarily evident in her character design, or that she's just carrying around a weapon that she can't really use. i lean more towards the former, and that she has a tendency to be more involved in combat than any of the other rat grinders are completely comfortable with. she'll always try and keep combat from breaking out but once it does she can wack people with her morning star and then cast healing word as a bonus action. it's fine guys, she promises. of course if someone gets badly hurt she'll focus on that but let my girl hit people in between. especially post-resurrection it's one of the only ways she feels comfortable expressing anger.

Ivy:

🪢 A headcanon about their family

ivy moved to elmville shortly before freshman year with her mom. her parents divorced during the last year of middle school. it was messy, and they absolutely had the worst fights right in front of ivy for most of her childhood. in the end, ivy was made to chose between staying in fallinel with her dad or moving to elmville with her mom, and she chose the latter. she sees her dad a couple times a year now, but her mom isn't much more present despite the fact that they live under the same roof.

📓 A headcanon about their hobbies & 👗 A headcanon about their clothes

archery itself could be considered a hobby, i don't know if you have any experience with it. personally i am pretty shit at it but i am getting back into it anyway. back to ivy though, i imagine it started out as a hobby before it became who she was. summers spent shooting at targets instead of playing with the other kids, and after school time was spent more on practice than her homework.

i imagine that once she starts aguefort she's similarly intense about it but picks up an actual hobby or two now that she has time in school to be intense about it. something tactile, maybe knitting or crochet? i lean knitting for ivy bc it's simpler and more practical but she could still use it to make crop tops and tank tops. i think she'd have fun with it. and she makes oisin count her rounds for her. it's hard, okay?

🔪 A headcanon relating to fighting/violence

ivy's an archer which creates a certain distance from the violence she enacts. the first thing she kills is a deer while on a hunting trip with her parents. for a while it's just game, then when she starts aguefort it's rats and monsters. even in battle against other people (against lucy) it's easy enough for her to keep her distance from the reality of violence against another person. she didn't touch lucy when they killed her, just stood by the treeline and aimed. the distance doesn't help with the guilt, doesn't stop the nightmares.