#damn i wrote a lot for that religion question

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

♥️,🥩, and 🍓 From Yunessa!

aww thank you! for this ask game, last one under the read more bc it got longg

❤️ (heart) - Who is the most important person to your character? To what lengths would they go to protect this person?

To Conficcare, Rametta is by far the most important person to him, which is why her rejection of him & his attempts to keep her safe from their mother cuts him so deeply. What lengths? well for as much as its known that he would pick Muro over Tesoro in a heartbeat, he would betray all of them for Rametta.

🥩 (steak) - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

Celias smoking comes to mind, she used it to calm herself, fit in/seem cool, but mainly to decease her appetite and lessen the hunger pains when there wasn't enough food [which was most of the time] Hes been trying to kick the habit for years with little long term success, but no matter how many gross images of the consequences Conficcare shoves in his face he always ends up rolling up a cig when things get stressful or he needs to think. [I mean, he knows hes gonna die young, its inevitable, why worry about cancer and fucking up your body when your not gonna be around in time for it?]

🍓 (strawberry) - Does your oc believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way?

Muro & Cecio [& Tesoro & Conficcare & Rametta] all have a complicated relationship with religion. Raised Roman Catholic [with some influence from Eastern Orthodoxy from the large amount of Ukrainian immigrants in their community] Much of their community was centered around worship, which meant that being rejected due to their trans and queerness was devastating when it happened.

Notably, Paula refused to go to church after she was deemed to be going against the will of god by accepting that Cecio was a trans boy and raising him as such- though given she opposed the priest by punching him in the face it wasn't like she was exactly welcome anymore. Celia also got much side eye when he started presenting fully as Muro.

Despite that [and the homophobia of Tesoros father & Conficcares mother that they justified through scripture and worrying for their childs souls] they all maintain quite a strong level of faith, keeping god in their own way. Muro notably often keeps his mothers rosary around his right wrist, hidden under the cuff of his jacket, Tesoro still goes to church and prays for forgiveness often, Conficcare goes occasionally, while Rametta used to go before she had an annoying atheist phase, but after her brothers death refuses to feel uncomfortable as herself in a house of god [She loves the 'god made us trans for the same reason he gave us wheat instead of bread and grapes instead of wine, so we could partake in the act of creation' [paraphrased] idea, and as she sees the world and many religious leaders become more accepting of trans & queer people she wishes so much that the rest of her family were there to see it]

I need to do more research into Catholicism bc while i was undeniably raised culturally christian i had very little interaction with protestant practice let alone catholic, but they are all very steeped in catholic practices and habits, while they question and disagree with spesific teachings- mainly around queerness- they are very much religious and it is important to them.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVI.

GIF by javier-pena

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Who doesn't fuck on the first date?

WORD COUNT: ~15.8k (sorry not sorry; I had a lot to say)

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: smut, making out, a lot of hair pulling bc it's my kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, a soft and nervous!javi, but also authoritative!javi, half assed and lightly researched stargazing, gun mention, very brief crime/medical talk, 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: yeah this one's a long one everyone but idgaf i was twirling my hair and blushing the entire time i wrote this!! we all know what we've gotten ourselves into, okay?!?! mwah love you all hope you enjoy. BON APÉTIT!! <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3 [ song inspooo ]

♰  read on ao3. ♰

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Paloma’s nails drum restlessly against the wooden armrest of the chair, each tap echoing her impatience. The stale air is stifling, saturated with the antiseptic scent that clings to this place. She bites her lip, eyes darting to the mirrored wall where she knows her father stands unseen, observing.

It’s not like she’s in trouble or anything— just standard procedure to get her statement from the other night.

Thankfully, nothing else happened after she’d been dropped off at home. She staked out at the window in her bedroom until the deputy assigned to keep watch arrived. Only then did she scrub off all the blood and dirt in the shower, locking herself in her room and clutching the plush snake Javi had won for her at the fair to her chest until she eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

It’s been three days since the incident and she’s barely seen her father or Javier. They’ve had their hands full dealing with the girl at the hospital and managing the newfound attention gained from the attack.

The larger towns in the surrounding areas are getting curious about what’s happening in this remote corner of Texas.

The sheriff had been very adamant about not conducting her questioning himself. “It wouldn’t be right,” he had said, “Conflict of interest.” Instead, he sent in Javier. As if that was any better.

The door opens with a creak and he steps in, his uniformed presence both familiar and attractively official… it has her squirming in her seat. His dark eyes meet hers for a brief, charged moment before he breaks the gaze, closing the door behind him.

They have to act professional, hiding the fact that they were together when she found the girl. But damn, has she missed him and has he missed her. It’s only been three days.

“Miss Leighton,” He greets, his voice monotonous, but she can hear the undercurrent of tenderness, how he naturally reacts to her. He takes a seat at the opposite side of the table, setting a folder between them. “Thanks for comin’ in. Just need to ask you a few questions about what happened on the night of the fourth.”

She nods, fingers twisting together in her lap. “S’no problem. I just wanna help as best as I can.”

He clears his throat, opening the folder and pulling out a sheet of paper, glancing briefly at the mirror before continuing. “Start from the beginning. What were you doing out there?”

“I was out for a walk,” she begins, telling him something he already knows. “Needed a break from all the noise of the party. That’s when I heard somethin’— wheezin’ and groanin’ comin’ from behind a tree.”

He scribbles lazily on the paper, his face impassive. Anything to keep up appearances. “What did you do after that?”

“I walked towards the sound,” her voice trembles slightly at the memory, and this has her father huffing from the other side of the mirror. “That’s when I saw her lyin’ there on the ground. She was... she was hurt real bad.”

“Was anyone else there when you found her?”

Her heart stutters. “No. I didn’t see anyone else,” it’s not a lie, technically.

Her eyes fall down to his fingers as he writes. The slight tension in his knuckles and rhythmic flexing of his tendons, veins that prominently run along the back of his hand, the subtle grip he has on the pen. Paloma knows this isn’t the time to get all worked up, yet she can’t help it. He makes the simplest things look so irresistibly attractive.

“And then you called for help?” he snaps her out of the trancelike state she’d honed in on while watching him write. His lips twitch as he suppresses a smirk at the sight of the faint flush over her cheeks.

She clears her throat before answering, “Yes, I sought out the deputy sheriff for help.” Paloma doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the feeling of warm blood coating her fingers as she desperately tried to put pressure on the girl’s wounds. “I tried to keep her awake, to talk to her, but she was barely conscious. She just... she looked so scared. I ain’t ever seen anythin’ like it.”

Her father’s stare is heavy and so damn palpable. Watching every move, listening to every word. This situation is as difficult for him as it is for her.

Javier nods, remaining professional, making a final note before pulling out another few sheets of lined papers and sliding them over to her, along with his pen. “Thank you, Miss. Leighton. You’ve been very helpful. If you could just write everything in your own words, that’d be great. No detail is too small.”

Every time he addresses her as Miss Leighton in that authoritative tone of his, it makes her feel coy despite her thoughts being anything but bashful. “Okay… Is that all?” She reaches for the materials, clicking the pen and beginning to write down her recollections.

“For now,” he stands, “But we might have more questions later.”

As he walks towards the door, she lets her eyes rake over the expanse of his back, the uniform shirt shifting with each movement and clinging to his figure. It pulls taut at his shoulders and she wants to reach out and touch him, to find solace in his presence, ask for an update on the girl. But the current audience doesn’t allow for that, so she’ll just have to wait until they’re alone again.

He turns and gives her a brief, reassuring smile before exiting the room, leaving her flustered by doing absolutely nothing.

“Followin’ noises out in the middle of the woods, the hell is wrong with her.” Is what Javi is greeted to once he joins the sheriff on the other side of the mirror. The older man looks exasperated by his daughter’s sparse testimony.

“Out there all by herself. Can’t ever just stay put. Had she been there at the wrong time, had somethin’ happened to her...” his hands curl into fists, and Javier decides to interject before he gets too worked up and blows up on her in front of the entire department.

“But nothing did, and now we’ve got a survivor who potentially saw the assailant and can give us something to go off of.”

Romeo exhales heavily, running his hand down his face then rubbing his jaw. “S’just so damn hard for me not to get like this when she’s involved. M’already stressin’ ‘bout this girl not wakin’ up and all the other shit… ‘n now she’s caught up in it. I feel like this damn thing is gonna be the death’a me.”

Javi’s eyes flicker over to her. She sits focused on writing her statement, long hair tucked behind her ear, unaware of how she’s driving her dad up the fucking wall.

“Her statement isn’t of much use, anyway. She didn’t see anything helpful, so there’s no need for her to stay involved.”

“Good.” There’s a brief pause, a contemplative silence, before Romeo excuses himself to get prepared for an important meeting to coordinate their first official press conference to address the murders.

They’ve been holding off on it since each victim came from a different area, which in turn came with an influx of differing information. But after working out details from the occult aspect of the investigation and getting law enforcement from each town on board, they collectively decided to let Sheriff Romeo Leighton and Deputy Sheriff Javier Peña be the ones to take it publicly. 

The press conference is a crucial step forward, a chance to rally the communities and potentially even bring more information out of the woodwork. They’re in the process of setting up an anonymous tip line, hoping to encourage any reluctant witnesses to come forward.

Javier understands that this is part of the job, yet he can’t help but feel uneasy about his name circulating the news again. He knows the accolades attached to his career, the reasons people recognize him. It’s why he couldn’t bear staying in Laredo.

She finishes writing everything down, her hand cramping a little towards the end. Minutes drag by, the annoying hum of the fluorescents filling the room, before the door opens again and Javier reappears. Her heart flutters, a small smile on her lips. “I think I got it all written down.” She slides the papers over, and he silently puts the sheets into the folder.

“You workin’ today?” He asks casually. Her eyes flit over to the mirror. “Don’t worry. He’s in his office.”

The tension leaves her shoulders and she slouches slightly. “Yeah. Right after this, actually.” She brings her wrist up to check the time. She’s set to be there in twenty minutes. 

“What time do you take your lunch?” Javi leans forward on the table, bracing his large hands on its edge, causing his arms to flex as he towers over her. She swallows back a small moan; he just looks so sexy in his uniform, mustache trimmed, jaw sharp, dark brown hair combed to the side yet clearly mussed from running his fingers through it.

“One,” she breathes out, looking up at him through her lashes, wetting her lips.

“I’ll see you at one. I’ll pull up ‘round back.” He rasps his knuckles along the table’s surface before taking the file into his hands. “Other than that, you’re free to go, Miss Leighton.” Back to being professional, yet she catches his flirty lilt.

“Thank you, officer,” she quips back, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Their repartee is a reminder that even in the midst of all this chaos, there are moments of sweetness. She looks forward to seeing him on her break, definitely attracted to how he just… made the plans without question.

He holds the door open for her, and she purposefully brushes against him while walking past. The contact is electric, brief, but tantalizing. He exhales through his nose, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re such a tease,” Javi mutters, amusement lacing his tone.

She glances back over her shoulder and winks, “Just givin’ you somethin’ to look forward to later.”

His gaze follows her as she walks away, the sway of her hips not lost on him. 

They’re nestled in a back alleyway between two abandoned buildings, remnants of an old bank and a long-forgotten pharmacy, not far from the library. She’s perched up on his lap, lips desperately chasing his, the lunch she had packed for the day left in the front seat.

It’s no surprise they find themselves here, their kisses frantic and heated, his hands resting respectfully on her waist, even though he aches to let them roam along her curves.

One too many flirtatious jokes, a few lingering gazes, and Paloma giving him her bedroom eyes were all it took for Javier to usher her into the backseat of his police cruiser, ready to accept whatever she is willing to give him.

After all, she calls the shots— deciding how far they go. She takes what she needs, and he, attuned to her desires, follows her lead.

“The lost art of just kissin’,” she sighs out once she pulls away, placing a sweet kiss to the faint scar on his nose. The tips of her acrylic nails scratch softly along his scalp, and he lets out a shaky breath, fingers digging into her hips.

“Got me feelin’ like I’m seventeen again, nena.”

She giggles softly. “Oh c’mon Javi, we both know you were doin’ a whole lot more than just kissin’ at seventeen.”

“Weren’t you?” He teases, leaning in to brush his lips against her jaw. Her head rolls back onto her shoulder, the scratchiness from his mustache tickling her skin.

“I plead the fifth.”

Their lips connect again, her tongue licking into his mouth. He grunts at the feeling of it intertwined with his own.

She’s so addicting, her kisses more intoxicating than any vice he’s ever known. Purer than the finest cocaine, more potent than the strongest weed strain, a greater buzz than the nicotine. He could lose himself for hours in the feel of her soft, plump lips and the warmth of her body pressed against his.

It’s a slow, sensual dance of tongues and lips, saliva and sweat. Each touch needier than the last, her taste imprinting itself on his memory. His hands roam up and down her sides, feeling the gentle curve of her waist and the softness of her skin through the fabric of her dress. 

“You, sweetheart, have the sweetest lip gloss I’ve ever tasted,” he murmurs when they break to catch their breaths, kissing the corner of her mouth.

His expression is absolutely blissed-out, lips swollen from her playful bites, hair tousled where her fingers tugged, and hazelnut eyes darkened with pure lust. She feels a rush of heat flash through her entirely, every inch of her skin tingling with a craving that matches his.

“S’a honey balm from the Miller’s down at the farmers market. Got it in the strawberry flavor,” she smiles, pursing her lips and smacking them together playfully.

Strawberries and honey. He’s definitely in love.

“Gotta get you more of that. Quickly.” He squeezes her hips again, and she moves her fingers from his hair, trailing down to grab his wrists, bringing his hands to rest on her rear over the skirt of her sundress.

“You can touch me, Javi. I ain’t gonna bite.”

“But I might. I’m holdin’ back here, baby.” Despite his words, he takes the supple skin of her ass into his big hands and kneads gently. Oh, it feels so good, she can’t help but rock against his half hard erection, both of them sighing out in unison.

“Oooh, maybe you’re right. Tryin’ to hold out for as long as I can,” her movements slow to a stop, a teasing smirk on her lips when she feels the twitch beneath his uniform pants.

“Take your time. It’s not like you’re drivin’ me crazy over here,” his voice drops to a hoarse whisper, a little raspy from the cigarette he’d just smoked and how breathless her kisses have left him. He frees one hand to bring hers up to his lips, kissing her knuckles and nipping gently at her fingertips.

“That’s like, the whole point,” her breath falters as his lips leave a trail of kisses, ending at the pulse point on her wrist where he softly bites.

She gasps his name out, his tongue soothing the spot he’s bitten.

“Perdóname, querida. You’re just so soft and taste so sweet,” his voice is still low, eyes sparkling with eagerness, it has her thighs twitching around his hips.

“Heard you got a show on Friday...” he begins, lips still brushing against her wrist, utterly captivated by her.

“Mhm, goin’ to rehearse with the band after my shift,” her fingertip traces up the strong line of his jaw, softly pinching at his ear lobe affectionately.

Such an innocent touch, so softhearted on her part and he genuinely feels like he’s on cloud nine. Javi drops her wrist from his lips, now shifting to play with her hair. He revels in its silky softness between his fingers and how right it feels to have her on his lap. “How’s your music going?”

“A lot better than it was. Had a slow start but I’ve been workin’ on things again.” She’s gone back to her hobby after neglecting it. The support from her bandmates, who hadn’t totally bailed after her little impromptu break, has been a tremendous relief.

“And when do I get to hear them?”

She snorts softly, shaking her head. “Whenever they’re ready to be heard.”

“Well, that just doesn’t seem fair,” he protests, lightly tugging on her hair.

“You ain’t entitled to my art. Such a man sometimes,” A spark of arousal flares in her core at the pull to her scalp. If he gets her any more wet, she’s certain it’ll seep through her flimsy underwear, staining the crotch of his khaki work pants.

Have fun explaining that to the sheriff.

He gives her an annoyed look which has a smug smile ghosting over her lips. He can be so sassy sometimes.

“So you’ve got a show Friday...” he begins again, curious hands tracing down the length of her body, eliciting a soft keen from her.

“Uh huh...”

“And the bar’s closed Saturday for a private event...” His touch shifts to the outside of her thighs, gently bunching up the frilly skirt, fingers grazing the newly exposed skin.

“Right...” She’s only half-listening, lost in the distracting sensation of his hands on her, each caress sending sparks of pleasure straight to her clit. He seems to know exactly where to apply pressure, how to grasp her just right.

“Come over,” he mutters, his invitation now sending her heart racing.

“So forward, Javi. At least take a girl out first.”

“It’s not like that... but it can be like that if that’s what you want,” he replies with a lopsided grin, eyes gleaming with affection. “I do want to do something nice for you, baby.”

She tilts her head, studying his handsome features with admiration. Kristy was right, he definitely resembles the Hollywood cowboys.

“So, like a date?” Paloma needs to hear him say it, her thumb now smoothing over his mustache.

It feels oddly adolescent to him, hearing it put that way, but he nods, squeezing her thighs gently. “Yeah, a date.” Javier tilts his head to kiss the pad of her thumb.

Her smile widens and she leans in to press their lips together. “I’m taking that as a yes?” his words are muffled against her eager mouth.

“Si, Javi. Now stop talkin’,” she groans out, their lips fervently meeting again.

Given the green light to touch her, his hands roam freely; from her thighs, to her ass, to her waist— he can’t get enough. She arches her back, encouraging him to keep going.

He hesitates when his hand hovers over her chest, unsure if she wants for him to get handsy there.

Sensing his need for her approval, Paloma guides his large palm to press against her breast. A low moan escapes his lips as he feels the plushness, fingers sinking into her skin and mouth swallowing her gasp.

He fondles the flesh gently, thumb brushing over the stiffened peak of her nipple that pokes through the thin fabric. “No bra, chiquita?” He pants against her lips when she pulls back, her eyes fluttering close as he continues to toy with her.

“S’too hot out to wear a bra,” she whines pathetically when he pinches, biting her lower lip.

“Hmm...” He moves to get a better look at her. A sultry expression of pleasure gracing her features. “Is it too hot for panties?” The hand on her thigh starts to inch inward, testing boundaries, and her eyes snap open, meeting his.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teases, planting another kiss on his nose then gently guiding both of his hands back to their original place on her hips.

His lips form into a playful pout, and she can’t resist pinching his cheeks. “So, Saturday night, your place. What do I need to wear ‘n what time do I need to show up?”

“A pretty dress like this is just fine,” he answers, eyes scanning her figure appreciatively, noting the delicate floral pattern of the little number she’s wearing now. “Eight sound good?”

“Sounds just right to me, cowboy.”

Parting from him takes so much willpower, but she manages, glancing at the time and realizing she barely has ten minutes to fix her slightly disheveled appearance before returning to work. Time had flown by entirely too fast, though it always tends to whenever she’s with him.

Damn, now she’ll have to sneakily eat her lunch through the afternoon.

He pulls up to the back entrance of the library, away from the bustling main street and prying eyes. She leans over the console, her lips seeking his for a goodbye kiss. He doesn’t let her go so easily, bringing the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel up to cup her face.

“M’gonna be late, Javi,” she utters against his lips, and he grunts softly before reluctantly letting her go.

Kissing her is all he’s ever wanted to do. The number of times he’s gotten himself off solely by imagining the feel of her mouth on his... And now that he’s been granted the absolute fucking blessing of actually experiencing it, he can’t help but be a little gluttonous. Her taste, her touch, her softness—it’s all so inebriating.

“Fine, nena. I’ll let you go. I’m gonna try to show up for you Friday, but with everything we got going on, I dunno if I’ll make it.”

She almost asks for an update, which she had meant to do over her break until they got preoccupied, but decides against it. Her finger traces the tip of his bushy eyebrow. “No worries, handsome. I get you all to myself on Saturday.”

They both sport matching smiles before she reaches for the handle and pushes the door open. Paloma pauses for a brief second, a mischievous smile on her face as she hikes her dress up inconspicuously while getting out of the car, giving him a good look at the baby blue lace underwear she’s wearing.

“Guess it ain’t too hot to forgo these. Have a good day, officer.”

His breath catches, desire surging through him. He almost reaches out to pull her back in, to drive back to that alley and spread her out on the backseat with his tongue buried deep inside her, but she slams the door in his face before he can properly react.

He watches her, eyes narrowed behind tinted aviators, as she skips away, teasing him for the second time today.

When she disappears into the building, he leans back in his seat, savoring the lingering taste of her on his lips and the promise of a date. He’s really got to get his shit together.

She very diligently applies her mascara, carefully brushing each lash to avoid any smudges on her face.

Her date with Javier is in less than an hour, and she has no idea what to expect.

Anticipation courses through her veins at finally being able to experience this side of him. Tonight feels like a step towards something promising.

It really seems like he’s putting in genuine effort to prove himself to her. That’s all she wanted, really, was the effort.

Obviously, she never expected him to change overnight, but knowing he’s taking those steps towards redemption is enough to rekindle some of the trust she once had in him.

As she rubs her lips together after applying more of the strawberry honey balm, she thinks of his reaction from earlier in the week. His praise of the sweet flavor makes her skip the lipstick and gloss entirely.

Paloma stands in front of the full-length mirror, contemplating her outfit for the dozenth time in the last hour. Different articles of clothing litter the floor of her room, each one discarded in pursuit of the ‘perfect’ look.

If she could change one thing about herself, it would be the ability to get ready without making such a fucking mess.

She’s nervous. Excited too, but nervous nevertheless. She wants to look effortlessly beautiful, like she hadn’t tried too hard. Javier had told her that a simple sundress would be fine, but she knows that most men are absolutely clueless when it comes to women’s dress codes.

After much deliberation, she settles on a sage green dress that falls just above her knees. It’s modest yet romantic, hugging her curves and accentuating her breasts with its bustier-style top. The color complements her skin tone, and she can’t help but smile at her reflection as she straps on her wedged heels, admiring how they elongate her legs.

As if she hadn’t spent what felt like hours in the bath, shaving, waxing, and plucking until her skin was as smooth as her beloved angel cake. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders and her makeup is light—enhancing her features without being too over the top.

Taking a deep breath, she gives herself a final once-over.

She looks pretty, the illusion of effortless beauty rightfully achieved. Her heart flutters at the thought of him, of the way his brown eyes will light up when he sees her.

Does she have the intention of fucking him tonight? Absolutely, even though part of her feels she should make him suffer just a little longer. But damn, is it difficult— especially if he swoons her any more… and given how much of a casanova he is, that won’t be very hard of him to do.

Then again, anything could happen. They might end up so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even make the first step into falling into bed…

Who is she kidding? They’re both equally insatiable, and if that make out session in his cruiser was any indication of what’s to come, she’ll just let it fucking be.

Realizing that her neck looks a little bare, she rummages through her jewelry box for the perfect accessory. Cursing under her breath when she can’t find it, she spritzes one final dose of her favorite perfume before making her way downstairs in search of her purse. She’s certain her necklace is in there.

She descends the staircase, putting her earrings in, her heels clicking softly on the polished wood.

“Where you goin’ all dressed up?” her father questions from his spot on the couch, a baseball game playing on the television.

“Out for dinner and a movie. You seen my purse?” She paces through the living room with no luck, now disappearing into the kitchen.

Romeo stands with a grunt, muting the TV as he walks over to the hallway between the two open spaces. “S’hanging on the hook by the door… you goin’ alone?”

She passes him as he asks, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of her bag and pulling it off the hook, digging through it until she finds what she’s looking for.

Her delicate cross necklace. She’s had this since she was a little girl, and while she struggles with her faith, the piece of jewelry does hold sentimental value in the same way her mother’s pendant does.

“No. I’m goin’ on a date,” Paloma answers truthfully yet nonchalantly, holding up the necklace to her father. “Mind puttin’ it on?” She turns her back to him, gathering her hair so he’s able to loop it around her neck.

“A date?” The words leave a bitter taste on his tongue, his lips turning downward as he scowls. “With who?” Romeo’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he fastens the clasp, a contrast to his gruff demeanor.  

“With a guy. S’usually how these things work.” She has to tread carefully here, not wanting to reveal that she’s actually going out with Javier. That conversation will happen whenever the time is right, as Javi had reassured her, so she considers this as warming him up to it so he isn’t as pissed when he inevitably finds out.

‘Cause he will be upset, but he’ll also get over it. His first reaction to anything has always been anger.

She can feel the weight of his scrutiny, his protective instincts kicking in full force.

“Yeah, but what guy? And how long have you been in cahoots with this prick?” She turns to face him, not hiding the amused look on her face.

“In cahoots,” she repeats, snorting out a laugh. “You are such an old man.”

“Paloma…” he begins, his tone more stern, and she sighs.

“Someone I met at the barbecue after you left. It’s nothin’ serious,” she lies. “S’why I’m goin’ on this date. Seein’ if it’s somethin’ worth pursuin’ or if it’s just a fluke.”

He stares at her for a good, long minute. “Dunno how I feel about lettin’ you go out with some asshole you barely know. And what type of man has his lady drive to him and not come pick her up himself? He scared’a me or somethin’?”

Yes! she wants to shout. Literally any date she’s ever gone out with has been put off by her father. Javier included, which is a little comical to her, but she understands. He can be very intense when he wants to be. Bless his heart.

“Well, he’s not exactly terrified,” she explains, trying to sound casual. “But he respects you, ‘n he knows how much you mean to me. He didn’t want to overstep. I was the one who suggested it.”

Romeo’s eyes narrow, assessing her words. With the revelation of a killer going around romancing the young girls in town and filling their heads with blasphemous ideologies, the last thing he wants to hear is that his daughter is going out with a stranger. 

“I don’t like this one bit. Can’t risk somethin’ happenin’ to you ‘cause some asshole ain’t got the guts to face me.”

“Daddy,” she begins, “I understand, I really do. ‘Specially after what happened…” Paloma trails off, insinuating the events of that night. They haven’t talked about it directly, only skirting around the details of when she went in to give her statement.

It’s the signature Leighton pattern— issues left untouched until they boil over in an argument.

It’s not like he had anything new to say, anyways. Just his typical, fatherly spiel that she's heard too many times to count. A dash of sexism thrown in there to drive his point home.

“However,” she straightens her posture, meeting his gaze with determination, “You’ve taught me everythin’ I need to know ‘bout defendin’ myself. I‘ve got the pepper spray ‘n taser you got me right here.” She opens her bag, pulling out the two items for him to see.

Romeo just glares at her, his jaw tight with worry.

“And I’ve got the other set in my car, a baseball bat in the trunk, and the gun in the glovebox. I know how to bust out of zip ties and land a mean uppercut. Break a nose. Go for the family jewels.” She continues, her voice steady. She needs for him to understand that she’s prepared, that she’s taken all his lessons to heart.

Paloma knows she won’t need any of this tonight, considering she’s going to be with Javier. Still, she wants her father to know that he’s taught her well.

“I’ll be home by midnight… if it makes you feel any better, I can call you halfway through to check in.”

She searches his eyes, seeing the conflict there. No matter what he says, she’s going out tonight. That much is certain.

“Fine,” he relents with a firm nod. “But the second anything feels off, sweetheart, you better—”

“I will.” She cuts him off, not needing to hear the rest. She knows. “Now, I don’t wanna run late, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

He watches her leave after she pecks his cheek, his expression apprehensive. He’ll be waiting up for her to get home, porch light on, and probably a drink in hand.

Javier is nervously pacing the weathered porch of his trailer home, fist gripping a bouquet of flowers he picked up at the farmers market. He’d never been there before, but after she mentioned that’s where she got her favorite lip balm, his curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see what else they had, hoping to find something special for their date.

When he spotted the flower stand, he knew he had to pick something out for her. Flowers on a first date is a timeless tradition he must abide by. 

Honestly, he’d give her flowers every day just to see the way her eyes light up and the corners of her lips curl into that beautiful smile that gets him every time.

The thing is, though, Javi was so nervous that he started overthinking every little thing. He stood in front of the merchant for what felt like an eternity, not knowing what kind of flowers to get her. Roses were romantic but seemed too predictable. Yet, he knew she’s a hopeless romantic and a sucker for all the cheesy gestures, so those would have been the obvious choice.

But he didn’t want to go for just obvious. He wanted something that would surprise her, something that would show he put thought into this.

He sees the headlights of her car coming down the road and swallows thickly, literally shaking off his nerves. When she’s fully pulled in and parked, he wastes no time walking over to her, opening the door before she even gets to touch the handle.

“There's a valet here? So fancy already. Livin’ like the city folks,” Paloma teases, stepping out of the car, and he swears she’s never looked more beautiful.

The evening light bathes her in a soft, golden glow, highlighting her features in the most enchanting way. His eyes trace every inch of her form with unabashed admiration, lingering on the swell of her tits and the way the dress hugs her figure so perfectly.

Her legs look oh so inviting in the wedges she’s wearing, amplifying his temptation to ravish her before their meal.

“These are for you,” he says before he acts on his carnal impulse, revealing the bouquet from behind his back. Her eyes widen, and a giant grin spreads across her face.

“Javi, oh my god, did you just get every flower?” she laughs, absolutely enamored by the peculiar cluster currently in her arms.

Yeah, he had been so indecisive about what to get her that he just told the merchant to give him a little bit of everything. The florist, already amused by Javier’s indecisiveness, didn’t interject. If anything, he somehow made the clashing colors and patterns look like a beautiful, organized mess.

She loves it. It reflects them so perfectly. Each bloom in the bouquet seemed to tell a story, a perfect reflection of their own blossoming relationship.

Javier watches as she brings the flowers up to her face, inhaling deeply. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, savoring the fragrance, and when she opens them again, there’s a softness in her gaze that makes his heart race.

He takes a mental photo of her like this. So mesmeric. He never wants to forget it.

“Couldn’t decide on which to get, so I thought, why not all of ‘em… you like it?” He’s so adorable when he gets a little shy, a small frown on his face.

She tears her gaze from inspecting the flowers to look at him, and she swears her entire existence is reduced to a puddle on the ground with the look he’s giving her.

“I fuckin’ love it, cowboy. Makes me feel like I’m in my garden.” Her lips spread into a toothy grin. “So sweet. This is perfect.”

This is perfect. Those words alone are enough to put him at ease. He feels a wave of relief wash over him, the anxiety he’d been harboring slowly dissolving into warmth just from three little words.

“Let’s head inside.” He escorts her up the porch, his hand resting on her lower back the entire time, electricity building at the bottom of her spine.

Javier’s place looks different than the last time she was here. Cozier, more lived-in. She notices the additions: some college memorabilia, paintings she recognizes from the thrift store in town, a few family photos.

It’s neat and carries his scent, though she also catches a whiff of what she assumes to be dinner. The flickering candle on the coffee table adds a clean, inviting aroma. Seems like he took her critique of the space lacking personality seriously.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Make yourself at home,” he tells her, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head before walking toward the small kitchen.

“You cooked a meal?” Paloma questions, partially amused since she knows he rarely ever cooks for himself.

She sets her things down on the entryway table, careful not to smush her flowers, then slowly walks around the living room to get a better look at his new decor.

“Somethin’ like that,” Javier responds, a hint of pride in his voice. Earlier in the week, he had called his father, sharing bits about the new relationship he’s pursuing and asking what the fuck to do.

It’s an odd thing, this unaccustomed nervousness about dating. Javier has had his fair share of women, many mere fleeting sexual encounters, but still— flirting and romancing have always come naturally to him. Now, faced with a mundane dinner with Paloma, he finds the usual confidence in his charm faltering ever so slightly.

He feels like he’s doing both too much yet not enough at the same time.

To say Chucho was surprised was an understatement, and he couldn’t help but get in a few jabs about how he knew his son moving up there was going to be good for him.

“See what happens when you actually listen to your old man?”

His father’s teasing and encouragement had pushed him to step out of his comfort zone and actually try to piece together a decent meal. Nothing spectacular, just chicken baked in the oven with some vegetables. He contemplated getting a bottle of wine, but then landed on that damn root beer and cherry drink she likes so much.

As he moves around the small kitchen, he feels those nerves slowly creeping up on him again. He catches a glimpse of her through the doorway, exploring his living room, her presence making the place feel a little bit more like home.

She trails her fingers over the framed photos, pausing at one of him side by side with an older man. Both of them are posed in front of a wooden fence with what looks like horses behind them. They look so similar, no doubt that’s his daddy. If the matching mustaches weren’t an indication, then the large grins they both wear were a dead giveaway. 

He looks so charming with a genuine smile on his face. Paloma wants to see it on him all the time, even if she does like her grumpy, pouty Javi.

He’s attempting to share his life with her in these small but significant ways. It’s more than she expected, and it fills her with so much affection.

She takes a peek at his small bookshelf, different novels neatly aligned, but it’s the Italian language learning guide that gets her attention. Her brows furrow in curiosity, plucking it from the shelf and thumbing through it. “You learnin’ Italian?” She asks over her shoulder, reading the note inside.

Sorry these took so long. I translated as much as I could. Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Hopefully this helps.

Clearly a woman’s handwriting, but she knows better than to jump to conclusions. 

“Kind of, not really. Needed it for the investigation.” His tone suggests he doesn’t want to elaborate, and she doesn’t press him further, despite her nosiness on wanting to know what aspect of his work required him to know this language specifically.

She thinks of the old man in Louisiana, his cryptic words, outlandish request, then demise. To avoid putting a damper on her mood— she shoves him to the back of her mind and returns the book back to its spot.

Would she ever tell Javier about that night? About how she witnessed a man’s death and then subsequently watched as her ex and his best friend dumped his body into a swamp? Or is it something she’s destined to take to her grave?

She had told August, much like her mother, she would harbor her own secrets now. But with the way things are going with Javier… would she eventually feel comfortable and secure enough to share all that with him?

Paloma wonders if he could handle the weight of it, especially in the context of her mother’s past. A part of her fears that revealing the absurdity of it all might shatter the fragile connection they are re-building.

As she contemplates this, she thinks of the newfound look in Javier’s eyes when he’s with her— tender, understanding, and patient. Could he be the one she finally trusts with everything that weighs heavily on her heart?

The thought is both terrifying and liberating. She imagines his reaction, how his face might contort in shock or, perhaps, how his arms might wrap around her in comfort.

For now, though, she keeps the secrets locked away, buried deep. The path to trust is a slow and winding one.

One step at a time. Just focus on enjoying the night you’ve been looking forward to all summer.

Paloma moves towards the kitchen, watching Javier as he busies himself with pulverizing cherries in a short glass cup. The sight of him so concentrated, fingers stained with the sticky, sweet mess, sends a warm flutter between the apex of her thighs.

“Need any help?” she offers, sidling up to him and eyeing the chaotic counter now faintly stained in red.

He turns to look at her, “No, I got this,” a stubborn reply, from a stubborn man, to a stubborn woman.

She snorts out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Them cherries sure look muddled. Jeez, what’d they do to you?”

“I might have gone a little overboard.”

“Ya think?”

His lips quirk up into a smile, and he brings two of his fingers up to his mouth to suck the sugary syrup off, his gaze not leaving hers.

“Tastes good, wanna try, princesa?” he asks, tone smug and full of himself. It’s so hot.

She nods, speechless, and he dips his fingers into the jar, coating them before bringing them up to her parted lips. His eyes darken, trained on the movement of Paloma’s tongue as she kitten-licks his fingers before taking them into her mouth. Now she doesn’t break eye contact, sucking slowly until she lets go with a wet pop.

“Fuck me.” He mutters, mind completely clouded by her.

“Feed me first,” with a wink she pulls back, and he rolls his tongue over his teeth. 

“Tryin’ to.”

And so, Javier goes through all the motions, pulling the chair out for her to sit in as he plates everything and brings it out to her. The table is arranged with an assortment of candles of different shapes and sizes, more flowers strewn about. It looks charmingly cute and a little quirky, which only makes her like it even more.

She sips from her drink, the tiny bubbles sparkling against her tongue, eyes shamelessly tracing over his built figure as he moves around the room.

One thing she’s always loved about Javier is how he isn’t afraid to wear some color. Tonight is no different. A muted purple top hugs his upper half, paired with dark jeans and boots. The first few buttons are undone, because of course. That’s just part of the outfit at this point.

The shirt looks so good against his brown skin, his collarbones defined and his neck thick. She’s starting to understand why he likes biting so much.

He flicks off the light, leaving them only in the warm glow of the candles and the single lamp in the living room. Sitting across from her, his eyes drink in every detail of her angelic face, accentuated by the flickering candlelight.

“You really cozied the place up. All for me?” she jokes, looking over at him with adoration in her eyes.

“I wanted to make it special,” he replies sincerely, even though he knows she’s just teasing. “You deserve that. You deserve a whole lot more.”

Her heart swells at his words. “I’m likin’ what m’gettin’ so far.”

Everything feels right in this moment. They know they still have things to work through, but right now, they’re exactly where they want to be—surrounded by the quiet comfort of their shared affection.

“If dinner is shit, I’ve got a pizza delivery guy on standby.”

Paloma laughs, shaking her head as she picks up her fork. “Hopefully we don’t have to resort to that, even though I do love a good pepperoni pizza.”

She takes a forkful of the meal he’s prepared, bringing it to her mouth and chewing slowly. Javi watches her intently, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Well?”

“It’s really good.”

His eyes narrow slightly, not entirely convinced. “You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m not!” she insists, bringing a hand to cover her mouth as she talks. To prove her point, she eats another forkful. “Delicious. Compliments to the chef.”

He snorts, taking a bite himself. Not half bad, but he feels like he can improve. “Next time, it’ll be better.”

“Next time?” Her brows raise as she reaches for her cup. “Already plannin’ date number two?”

“Dunno if you’re aware of this, preciosa, but I’m not lettin’ you go anytime soon.”

They share a loving look, her eyes filled with nothing but fondness and want, his with a restless need to please and satisfy her. Sexually, romantically, platonically— all of it.

The conversation flows easily after that, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses and scraping against plates. She catches him looking at her with an expression that makes her heart skip a beat.

Javier tells her about his father after she asks about the picture on his mantel. As he speaks, she can see the deep respect and admiration he holds for the older man. His eyes soften, voice filled with warmth, revealing just how much his dad means to him.

She wonders if she’ll ever meet this illustrious Chucho Peña. Would he like her? Would he think she’s a good fit for his son? Would he eagerly share embarrassing stories about the hardened ex-DEA agent? Maybe even show her adorable pictures of Javi from his childhood, painting a different, more tender side of the man she’s come to care for so deeply.

He doesn’t mention his mother, and she doesn’t ask. It seems they both share a reluctance to delve into the matriarchs of their families, a mutual understanding that some things are best left unspoken, at least for now.

“Heard about the press conference…” she sees an opening to ask about it in the brief pause that had taken over as they finished dinner.

Javier lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair with a beer bottle in his hand. “Yeah. Goin’ live on Monday. Your dad’s leading it. I’m just there to discuss the other aspect of it.”

Her brows furrow. “Other aspect?”

“The ‘scary religious’ stuff. Got a lot of information from a professor in California that helped us out. She sent me all that shit in there.” He takes a swig of his drink, nodding towards the boxes stacked up in the living room. That explains the Italian guide and the feminine handwriting.

“How… how is she?” Paloma asks about the girl, her voice quieter but filled with concern.

“Stable,” he licks his lips, “Lots of internal bleeding, real bad concussion. Doctors are saying she might not remember everything clearly for a few weeks after she wakes up. The medicine she’s on is only going to make that worse, so who knows if we’ll have anything concrete enough to go on.”

Javier doesn’t want to burden her with work talk, and he doesn’t want to entertain it either since he’s around it all the time, but he recognizes her genuine concern.

She swallows thickly at the update. This is exactly like something out of those true crime segments the news shows late at night. She’s not that surprised, though, considering the girl was on the brink of death when she found her. “That’s terrible. What’s her name? Who is she?”

“We don’t have one. No I.D. on her and she’s been unconscious since they brought her in. We’ve called around trying to see if she matched any missing persons reports with shit luck.”

Paloma’s heart twists. It’s bad enough to be beaten within an inch of your life, but to be unidentified afterward? To not have the comforting presence of a family member or friend by your side while your body recovers and your brain struggles to keep you alive? 

She considers the idea of visiting, maybe bringing some flowers so when she wakes up, she isn’t greeted by the sterile, stuffy smell of the hospital.

“Well, hopefully she recovers soon.” Paloma takes another sip of her drink, chewing on some of the cherries at the bottom.

“Gotta take it in strides,” he grumbles, pushing his chair back to stand and beginning to collect their dirtied dishes.

“Oh, I can—” She starts to rise, but he stops her with a wave of his hand.

“Nu uh, quédate quieta (stay still), muñeca. I got this. How ‘bout you go freshen up and meet me in the backyard when you’re done?” The way he speaks to her with that affectionate yet stern tone makes it impossible for her to refuse.

“Mm, fine. What’s in the backyard?”

“You’ll see. Bathroom’s down the hall.”

Paloma complies, grabbing her purse from the entryway. She applies more lip balm, quickly brushes through her hair, and adds a touch of blush. Staring at her reflection, there’s a radiant smile on her face, her heart content and stomach fluttering.

She joins him outside, where he’s already puffing on a cigarette, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Una noche, Javi. Just one without the nicotine,” she slides the door close behind her and steps over to the railing he leans against.

“No can do, cariño. I’m afraid I’m addicted,” Javier replies, blowing the smoke away from her face. His dark eyes check her out, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he taps off some of the ash. “You look real pretty tonight. That color looks good on you.”

She blushes, thanking him softly and biting her lip, looking away to control the loud thudding in her chest. God, why is it that the simplest compliments are the ones that leave her the most hot and bothered?

“Am I supposed to watch ya smoke all night, or is there a reason we’re out here?” she questions, tilting her head up to look at him as he finishes off the cigarette, flicking it over the railing.

“There’s a reason we’re out here.” He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a stick of gum, unwrapping it then popping it into his mouth, “C’mon.”

Javier takes her hand in his, the warmth and size difference so comforting that she can’t help but squeeze gently as he pulls her off the small porch. Grabbing a flashlight on the way down, he flicks it on to illuminate their path.

The moon is out tonight, but not in her full glory, a crescent shape accompanied by twinkling stars scattered across the night sky.

Paloma notices his truck parked right in the middle of the grassy yard, another object standing beside it but she can’t make out what it is.

“Had I known we were gonna be outside, I woulda skipped out on the heels.” Wobbling as she steps on a rock and almost injures herself, he steadies her with his strong hold, bringing her closer into his side. She gets a good smell of him—smoke, mint, cologne, and just pure, delicious Javier.

“I got you, bebita. Would’ve been a real shame for you not to wear those. Make your legs look so sexy.” That last part is muttered into her ear and her pussy clenches around nothing because of it.

They reach his truck, where two small lanterns are already glowing softly, casting a cool light over the small area. The bed is transformed into a cozy nest, filled with blankets and pillows.

“Wow,” she breathes out, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight. It’s then that she notices the unidentified object standing beside the vehicle. “Is that a telescope?” she asks, moving closer to inspect it.

“Sure is. Called in a favor to the high school,” Javier replies, walking over to retrieve the book he checked out from the library and a map he’d drawn up during his time between the station and working from home.

“What’s it for?” she asks, curiosity piqued.

“Stargazing,” he replies, spreading everything out against the lowered tailgate so he can get a better read of it.

Her brows shoot up in surprise, and she turns on her heel to face him. “Stargazing?” She sees the materials in his possession and can’t help but smile.

“Yeah. Said I’d learn a thing or two for you.”

“And what thing or two did you learn?” Paloma is beyond intrigued, inching closer to him. She sees the various colored tabs poking out from the book, different pages he’s marked as significant. She recognizes his handwriting on the map and, after a little more observation, figures out what it is.

“Did you make a constellation map?” She gasps, bringing her fingers to trace over the precisely drawn lines.

Her reaction is enough to calm his apprehension and he nods, confirming it for her. “Didn’t ever think I’d turn to astronomy for a hobby, but here we are. Esta mierda realmente es interesante.” (This shit is actually interesting)

He works the gum in his mouth, and she’s absolutely smitten. Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist. “We’re right on time, too.” He opens the book to the page he’s memorized by now, passing it over to her and pointing at a cluster of stars. “That’s the first one we’re lookin’ for.”

Her big, brown eyes stare at the photo, and she nods gently. “Okay… what is it?”

“I’ll tell you once we find it.”

They migrate over to the telescope, and he bends slightly to get level with the eyepiece, closing one eye as his fingers adjust the knob to put the glass into focus. She watches him intently, falling more in love with him the longer they’re together.

Because that’s what this is. Love. She knows it, has known it for a long time, even if she didn’t want to admit it. It’s not just a crush or infatuation. She harbors real, fervent emotions for the man before her.

Javier’s lips pull into a large smile once he’s got the constellation in perfect view. “Alright, princesa, come take a look.” He pulls away and motions her to him, she eagerly sidles up to him again.

“Tilt it a little bit north and you’ll see it.” She does as instructed, even though he distracts her with how he’s pressed up behind her, his hands resting on her waist and stroking gently.

The cluster of stars looks so cool, matching the photo he’d shown her to a T.

“¿Qué es, Javi?” she whispers, wishing she could capture the moment on a camera for herself.

Just as she had been watching him before, he watches her now. Her hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, her mouth slightly parted in astonishment. He’d pluck every star from the sky and gift them to her if it meant staying in this picturesque moment forever.

“Columba,” the technical name rolls off his tongue easily, “better known as the dove constellation.”

She pulls back quickly, whipping her head around to face him.

“Thought it was fitting. Just for my little palomita.”

The world stops, it really does, as the gesture fully sinks in, embedding itself in her heart.

She can’t help but think of how this moment parallels that of August’s. How on their first date he had revealed her bloodline connections to something so divine. How he convinced her that she was magic. A savior.

Here, with Javier drawing up maps of the stars and pinpointing ones that remind him of her, she feels much more cherished and special than she ever did with the reality of her mother’s past and the lineage she comes from.

She turns in his embrace, standing on the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He hums as he tastes her lip balm, savoring the sweet flavor. “This is so romantic, Javi. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“Me either, if we’re being honest,” he replies earnestly, his smile unwavering.

They continue their stargazing, with him pointing out other constellations they’re able to see. He even indulges in the little research he’d done about the stories attached to each arrangement. Paloma is absolutely charmed, hanging on to everything he says, excitedly stepping up to the telescope and hunting down the constellations under his guidance.

Now in the bed of his truck, she lays with her head against his chest. The rhythmic pumping of his heart eases her into a serene calmness as they glance up at the sky. Javier gently strokes her hair.

The night embraces the summer sounds of the south: cicadas murmur in the warm air, frogs croak softly in harmony, and fireflies dance with their gentle, glowing lights. Leaves rustle in the subtle breeze while a distant owl’s call adds a haunting touch to the tranquil scene.

He’s never felt this at peace, not with Lorraine, not with Helena. Not with anyone ever. He never thought he’d enjoy the simplicity of a relationship. But here, with her in his arms, he finds himself rethinking that entirely.

She’s perfectly tucked into his side, as gratified as he is. All he wants to do now is take care of her, meet her every need, grant her every wish and more. Gone are the days of pretending this isn’t what he wants, even though part of him still feels like he doesn’t deserve her.

“Guess I can call ya a space cowboy now,” Paloma teases with a gentle laugh, her nose scrunching in that adorable manner he loves to see each time.

“Space cowboy. It’s got a nice ring to it.” His fingers stroke the exposed skin of her arm, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

“Maybe I should get you a sparkly hat and some boots to complete the look,” she jokes.

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “Only if you promise to be my space cowgirl.”

“Deal,” her smile widens as she snuggles closer to him.

After a few more moments, Paloma lifts her head slightly, planting a soft kiss on his jawline. “Y’know, I think we’re writin’ our own story up there with the stars tonight.”

Javier smiles, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reaches his eyes. “Yeah? Shit— It’s one hell of a story.”

She shifts to straddle him and he doesn’t complain, letting her soft thighs rest on either side of his waist. Large hands move to settle on her hips, the skirt of her dress hiking up some and he lets his thumb run along her smooth skin.

“So what happens now, space cowboy?” she purrs, voice dripping with suggestion. Her manicured nails dig into his broad shoulders, and he doesn’t miss the way she subtly grinds down on his lap.

“You tell me, nena. Anything you want.” Javier’s cock stirs, not just from her movements but from the sheer, overwhelming need he feels for her.

He’s shown so much restraint, carefully paving over the rocky road of their relationship. But now, the sexual tension between them is stretched taut and ready to snap.

He feels a primal, insatiable hunger taking over him, reminiscent of the lover he was in Colombia.

“Anything?” The loving glint in her eyes is now replaced by a rousing, lustful spark.

“Lo que quieras.” (Whatever you want) His voice drops to a husk, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

She leans in, pressing her lips to his in an impassioned exchange. Her nails dig deeper into his broad shoulders as his hands get bolder, moving around to cup her ass, pulling her closer. It’s a repeat of what happened in his cruiser, but this time, there’s nothing holding either of them back from going all the way.

Paloma is more deliberate with the swivel of her hips now, fully grinding down on him. He drinks in her pretty moans as they fall from her lips, sucking on her bottom lip then running his tongue over her teeth, kissing her with a lewd hunger.

“Want you to touch me, Javi,” she whispers, forehead resting against his. Her fingers move from his shoulders up to the back of his neck until they’re intertwined in his soft, brown curls.

“¿Donde, bebita? Tell me where you want me to touch you.”

They’re all pants and heavy breaths as his lips trail down her jaw to her neck. She struggles to form a coherent thought, overwhelmed by the sensations he’s stirring within her.

“My— oh shit,” Paloma whines as he licks up from her neck to her ear, gently biting down on the lobe. She shivers at the contact, her body curving into his touch.

“Here?” he teases, his breath hot against her skin. His hands roam her body, mapping every curve and dip like he had with the works of art in the sky.

“Everywhere,” her voice trembles with need. “I want you everywhere but m-my pussy, Javi, please touch my pussy.”

Her words shoot straight to his cock, now fully hard beneath the denim. He pulls back slightly to meet her gaze, and despite the wanton passion flowing through both of them, he wants to make sure that she’s okay with going further.

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure in my life.”

That’s all he needs before he’s on her again in a complete frenzy, lips crashing against hers while one hand fists her dress. He realizes she’s not wearing anything underneath and lets out a guttural groan.

“Naughty fucking girl. Knew what you were coming over to get,” he growls.

Her giggle gets lost in her throat when she feels his thick fingers hovering over her clit. She’s so wet, her sticky arousal steadily building over the night, absolutely coating her folds and parts of her inner thigh.

“Dime otra vez lo que quieres. Tell me how bad you fucking want it, palomita,” Javier commands, his breath fanning over her ear.

“N-Need your fingers. Been dreamin’ about ‘em for so long,” she confesses, dripping with desperation. She feels even more of her slick seep out at the warmth emitted from his hovering digits.

“That so?” He cocks his head to the side, enjoying how much of a mess she is over him. Right as she’s getting ready to quip back, Javier presses his middle and index fingers against her sensitive clit, and her hips jerk to chase more of the contact.

“Ohhh…” she whines out, her head falling back as he begins to rub tight circles against her engorged flesh.

“Goddamn baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, his mouth watering at the feel of her. Javi has a deep affinity for eating pussy, one of the many golden traits he possesses, and he so badly wants to have her straddle his face and do just that.

But he also wants to drag this out, enjoy her in the way he hadn’t the first time they fucked. His fingers work their magic, sliding through her slick folds, teasing her entrance before pushing in slowly, groaning at how she clenches around them.

She yelps at the stretch, but fuck, does it feel amazing. “Fuuuuck, Javi… just like that,” she moans, her hips moving in time with his thrusting fingers. He’s knuckle deep, setting a steady rhythm while his thumb flicks over her clit.

His lips return to her neck, sucking softly yet being mindful of not leaving any marks. Yet. His other hand is on her chest, pulling down the fabric that covers her breasts so that he can feel the warm skin of her tit, how tight her nipple is against his clammy palm.

“Look so pretty like this.” Javi groans against her neck, curling his fingers inside her, finding that sweet spot that makes her cry, her thighs tensing and nails digging into his scalp.

The sound of her squelching pussy is obscene, echoing ever so softly into the night, her pants and his grunts mingling together. “Just like that baby, please keep goin’. F-Feels so good.” His fingers are much thicker and longer than hers, his touch a testament to his skill.

“Can’t wait to taste you. Just know you’re sweet.” He kisses down her neck until he’s got his pouty lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and grazing it lightly with his teeth.

Paloma shivers at the feeling, beginning to bounce on his fingers, encouraging him to go faster as she feels her orgasm slowly building at the pit of her stomach.

The truck rocks slightly with their movements, faint noises of metal and rubber creaking with how she rides his hand.

Javier senses her urgency, scissoring his fingers inside her cunt and curling them again. His tongue outlines her puffy areola and she whines out.

“Y-Yes, oh god, yes fuck, I’m gonna come.” Her eyes squeeze shut and he groans against her chest, pulling away to look at her, leaving the pebbled flesh coated in his saliva.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Fuck yourself on my fingers.” Blunt nails dig into the skin of her ass, giving her a spank, and the sting from it has her free-falling.

She grinds down onto his sinewy fingers, her grip strong as cum gushes out of her, coating them entirely. Her orgasm rips through her with an intensity that has her tasting colors.

She sobs his name out, and he revels in it, in her and how beautiful she looks falling apart for him.

He can’t wait to get her naked and spread out on his bed.

She goes limp, falling into his chest with his fingers still inside her. Her face is in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses against the skin that glistens with a sheen of sweat.

“That was fuckin’ amazin’.” She licks at the salty skin, humming at the taste, and he grumbles something she can’t quite make out.

“Been dreaming about it for so long, huh?” Javi teases, finally slipping his fingers out, her slick dripping down his knuckles.

“Like you haven’t dreamt about me.”

“Oh, plenty of times, baby.” Much like the mess from the cherries earlier, Javier brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them from the taste of her. It’s heady and delicious.

“Mmm, sabes rica, nena.” (You taste delicious, baby)

She smirks against his neck, still kissing and licking, hips once more moving against his lap, the denim chafing her in the best way possible.

Paloma’s lips trail up until they’re at his ear, and she whispers, “You gonna be a gentleman and take me to bed or are you going to fuck me right here?”

Javier grunts, smacking her ass again, and she giggles sharply. “If I get you in bed, I might not ever let you leave.”

“Don’t tempt a girl with a good time.”

With a cocky smile, he readjusts her dress and tilts her chin to meet his stare. They lock eyes before diving into another heated kiss. “Wrap your legs around me tight,” he murmurs against her lips.

She eagerly complies, her legs locking around his waist. He scoots towards the edge of the lowered tailgate, lifting her effortlessly. As he steps off the bed of the truck entirely, she clings to him, her arms around his neck, body pressed firmly against his.

Each step towards his trailer home is filled with a sense of urgency, their bodies already buzzing with anticipation. She can feel his cock pressed against her, a tangible promise of what’s to come. She squirms, nipping at his neck, inhaling his scent which further turns her on.

Javier slides the door open, not giving a damn about the setup left behind. He’ll worry about that later. Right now, he’s got more pressing things to handle.

The moment they’re inside, it’s like something out of a movie with how they’re on each other. Eager kisses, impatient touches, hands roaming with desperate urgency. He sets her down and she’s quick to start unbuttoning his shirt, their steps stumbling in the direction of his bedroom.

She almost trips on her heels and he grabs at her waist to keep her from falling. “So fucking clumsy all the time,” he says under his breath, letting her slide the shirt off his shoulders and onto the hallway floor.

“Easy ‘fore I leave you here with a hard cock ‘n the taste of me in your mouth,” she teases with bated breath.

He scoffs, kicking off his shoes once they’re in the room. She tugs at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from the loops of his jeans. “You wouldn’t do that, muñeca. You want this as bad as I do.”

And he’s right—she does. With each article of clothing that gets discarded, each inch of skin that gets revealed, her desire for him grows more and more… if that’s even possible. Paloma doesn’t think she’s ever been this needy to get fucked before.

Javier stops her from unbuttoning his jeans, taking a step back, leaving her momentarily confused. But then he drops to his knees right in front of her.

“What are you—” Her words are cut off as he bunches up her dress to her waist, bringing one of her thighs to rest over his shoulder. With no warning, he dives into her pussy.

“Oh my god!” she gasps.

His tongue is wicked, exploring every crevice of her, the tip drawing figure eights over her clit. It’s all happening so fast, she doesn’t even know how to react. He sucks the bundle of nerves harshly into his mouth, and she screams out his name.

Rising from his spot, he pulls the dress off her on his way up. “Couldn’t help myself,” and he’s got an arrogant grin on his sinful face.

“And you say I’m impatient.”

One, two, three steps until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and he gently pushes her until her back is against the soft sheets. She looks up at him with those brown, smoldering eyes, basically telling him to take her.

Javier stands still for a moment, gaze raking over her naked figure, drinking her in. His fingers move to his jeans, slowly undoing the button, the zipper following suit, anticipation building with every second.

The room is dark, barely any moonlight casting in from the windows, yet her body is glowing as she’s sprawled out on his bed. Although this isn’t their first time being intimate, it is the first time he’s seen her entirely naked.

And damn, if she isn’t a beautiful fucking sight.

Dark hair fanned out against the white pillows. Her tits nice and full, practically begging for his attention. The golden cross pendant that sits between her collarbones somehow makes her look more erotic.

The curve of her waist and the plumpness of her thighs beckon him to leave his mark all over the supple skin. She’s still got her wedges on, elongating her legs and highlighting her calves.

This is why he loves women so much— their accessories, their clothes, their shoes, their femininity. It’s such a turn on for him.

Paloma’s skin ignites under his stare, and she would feel more self conscious if she wasn’t so keenly aware of how fucking badly he wants her.

He flicks on the small lamp on the nightstand, further illuminating the room and her.

Ogling his exposed chest and how toned he is, her finger comes up to beckon him to join her on the bed.

“Igualita a un ángel (just like an angel),” honeyed words drip from his lips, having her blush as he crawls over her, still in his jeans, voice full of reverence.

One of her legs hooks around his waist, bringing him closer. His hand traces her hip, moving slowly to cup her breast. He thumbs her nipple, watching as it hardens under his touch, eliciting a soft moan from her. He leans down, capturing the other nipple in his mouth, suckling and nibbling gently.

She whimpers, arching into him, her hands all over his back, feeling the flex of muscles under her fingertips.

His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, worshiping her body. Paloma’s breath hitches as his fingers then dip lower until they’re at her mound, softly tracing his fucking initial against the skin.

His descent down her torso is paired with sensual movements of his lips, tongue flicking out to taste her skin until he’s at the scar on her hip. He peppers kisses along the marking and she shudders, her stomach doing flips at the sensation.

Then he goes lower and she exhales shakily once he reaches the apex of her thighs, placing wet kisses along the inside of them.

“Javi,” she moans, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He smirks, moving with deliberate slowness, teasing her until she’s trembling.

“Just relax, preciosa,” he murmurs, his breath hot against her core. “I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

“Wait… let me take my shoes off,” she squirms in his hold, trying to reach for her heels.

He stops her by placing his palm firmly over her pelvis. “Nah, baby, keep ‘em on.”

She stares down at him, catching that glint in his eye, and who is she to fight him on something as trivial as this? So she lets it be, sinking back into the pillows, her body relaxing as he resumes his ministrations.

Javier’s lips leave a scorching trail on her, kissing and nipping at her thighs, the feeling of his mustache brushing against the tender skin has jolts of pleasure striking her.

His roughness contrasts with her softness, creating a thrilling friction that makes her breath hitch in her throat. She whimpers softly, fingers away from his hair and clutching the sheets as he makes his way back to her core.

Using both of his thumbs, Javier spreads her folds apart and it’s like a flower blossoming— her clit throbbing, pink skin glistening with her juices. He licks his lips, cursing in Spanish, his tongue flattening and running up the length of her sex, curling when it gets to her sensitive pearl.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head in pure bliss as he repeats the action a few more times, her arousal mixing with his saliva and dripping down his chin, down to her ass.

Javier fucking loves going down on his girls. Nothing, not even the actual fucking, compares to it. To be buried in that warm, wet, soft space between a woman’s thighs, hearing her whimper out his name while he coaxes out pleasure that most aren’t accustomed to, is just something he thoroughly enjoys.

He might be a giant fucking dick everywhere else, but in bed, he tends to show some gentlemanly manners.

His tongue works her with expert precision, alternating between broad strokes and meticulous licks. He keeps her spread open, teasing her entrance before dragging the wet muscle over her labia and up to her clit in one seamless motion.

Paloma has never felt pleasure like this. Not with George, not with August, not with anyone. Javier is eating her out so filthily, it puts even the most seasoned pornstars to shame.

He basks in the feeling of her nails returning to his scalp, fingers yanking at his hair as he continues his relentless assault. Her thighs squeeze around his head so tightly, he has to pry them back open, desperate to keep devouring her until she’s a quivering, moaning mess beneath him.

“Quedate abierta, nena (stay open, baby) or else I’m going to stop,” Javier growls, an empty threat but the vibration of his voice against her sensitive flesh sends shockwaves through her. Her hips tilt up instinctively, pressing him further into her cunt.

He is absolutely pussy drunk. It’s hard not to be when she tastes so divine, smells so intoxicating, and reacts to him so fucking sweetly.

It’s here, between her legs, that he truly apologizes to her. Each stroke of his tongue is an expression of regret for all the hurt and bullshit he put her through. His remorse is palpable in every lick, every suck, as he pours his soul into devoting himself to her.

And she can feel it. God, can she feel the way he shifts from languid kitten licks to full-on making out with her pussy. Just like the orgasm from before, this one builds quickly, mirroring dark clouds rolling in before a severe thunderstorm. Her moans crescendo, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her.

Javier buries himself further into her heat, his tongue moving faster, his lips wrapping around her clit and sucking hard. She’s teetering on the edge, every nerve ending on fire, her vision blurring as she’s consumed by the overwhelming pleasure. 

Her thighs tremble, the pressure mounting to an almost unbearable peak. “Oh, Javi… I’m gonna…” she manages to gasp out, her fingers gripping his hair tightly. He responds by doubling his efforts, hands pushing her thighs to her chest firmly to keep her steady and spread.

“Come for me, palomita,” a dark, seductive command that does her over. His aquiline nose brushes her clit, his tongue moving in perfect strokes, in and out of her.

She shatters, her back bends off the mattress as her orgasm zaps through her like a fucking lightning bolt. Paloma’s cries of pleasure fill the room, thighs squeezing around his head again as she rides out the waves of ecstasy.

Javier doesn’t let up, drinking up every drop that floods from her tight hole, tongue buried deep inside her cunt to lick as much of it as possible, and she has to roughly tug on his hair to get him to pull up when the overstimulation gets to be too much.

“Did so good, baby.” He praises. When he lifts his head, his mustache and chin are shining with the evidence of her essence, a long ribbon of slick trailing from his bottom lip, connecting her to him.

It’s the hottest thing Paloma’s ever seen, well, barely seen since her vision is misty with tears from how good he just made her feel.

“You taste even better when I’m fucking you with my tongue,” Javi whispers, his voice a low, sexy rumble.

He proceeds to remove her heels, kissing her ankle once he’s got the strap undone and the shoe off, repeating the action on her other foot.

All she does is lay there, still trying to catch her breath, her body reeling with aftershocks. He hovers over her, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, letting her taste herself on his mouth.

The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unrestrained desire between them, makes her head spin.

“Mmm, my turn.” Her breath is ragged, heart racing, but she manages a fucked-out smile, her hands running over his chest, his stomach, then down to his unbuttoned jeans where his cock is almost painfully straining against the rough fabric. 

“Not tonight baby, I need fuck you.”

Her heart skips a beat but she nods eagerly. Truth be told, she’s never gone down on a guy before, but after his little show down there, she’s eager to return the favor, to have him teach her how to please him.

She’ll bring that up another time.

Javier is fully naked now, his cock heavy and smearing her lower tummy with precum. He reaches over to grab a condom from the nightstand, but she stops him by wrapping her dainty hand around his wrist.

“You been with anyone?” She asks, flashes of Sloane crossing her mind, and her face twitches as she holds back a scowl.

He looks at her with a bewildered look. “Absolutely not,” he pauses, “You?” While she’d told him that things between her and August were over, the idea of her going back to him one last time nags at him from the back of his mind, and his jaw tenses.

“No.” She brushes back some of the hair that’s fallen forward, getting a good look into his golden eyes, their shine undimmed by the shadows of lust. ���Don’t put the condom on.”

Goddamn, he really doesn’t deserve her. “Are you sure, querida?” he traces his fingers along her cheek.

She nods, her breath staggered from his touch, digits still brushing his hair back. “I’m sure. I want to feel you. All of you.”

With a growl of approval, Javier resists the urge to thrust his cock into her in one swift motion. He turns his head to kiss her wrist, then shuffles on the bed until they’re both on their sides, her back pressed flush against his chest.

Open-mouthed kisses trace along her neck and shoulder, her perfume and natural scent an aphrodisiac that gets him so high.

Javi’s hand grips her thigh then lifts her leg. “Hold it there, baby,” he instructs, and she complies, keeping her leg up as he strokes his cock a few times, gripping it at the base before slowly sliding it between her puffy folds, her seam drooling with her cum and his spit from going down on her.

They both shudder as his bulbous head nudges her swollen clit. He slaps it against her sex a few times, causing her to jerk her hips.

He laughs lowly behind her, and she can’t help but do the same, turning her head so their lips meet.

Using his kisses as a distraction, Javier slowly sinks into her tight heat. They pull apart, just barely, sighing into each other’s mouths as her walls pulsate around him, both of her previous orgasms having left her cunt wet and ready to take him entirely.

“Puta madre, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. The hand that was on his dick now moves up to grab the inside of her knee, keeping her leg in the air as he bottoms out entirely.

The sensation of being so fully connected, his cock filling her completely, is overwhelming. He’s definitely the biggest she’s been with, that much is apparent by the slight burn of him breaking her sweet cunt open with his girth.

He pauses, savoring the feeling, his lips still pressed against her neck, sinking his teeth into her tendon.

“Move, Javi,” she coos after a moment of getting used to the feeling of him, her voice a mix of plea and demand.

“So fuckin’ impatient,” with a groan, he begins to fuck her slowly, letting her savor every inch of him, friction building with each snap of his hips.

He holds her firmly as he sets a vigorous pace, the sounds of their bodies meeting, skin smacking against skin, moans and gasps and filthy words echo obscenely.

Her free hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips find her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. “I bet it didn’t feel like this with that boy of yours,” he utters, timbre rough and thrusts brutal. “Did it?”

His jealous words ignite something in her, and she pushes back against him, meeting his hips with equal fervor. The angle allows him to hit deeper, each stroke driving her mad. “About as good as it felt with that bitch.”

His fingers lace with hers on the arm slipped beneath her head, which is resting on his bicep as he pounds into her cunt– having her yelp out from prodding her cervix. She’s pleasantly surprised, expecting for it to hurt, but instead it’s just pleasurable feeling him touch parts of her no other man has.

Paloma’s tummy juts as he pumps into her, a visual of his big cock fucking her. Her tits bounce with each movement, his response a throaty growl and change of pace. “Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy, nena. Fucked up by givin’ it to me. S’the only thing that’s gonna keep me going, now.”

She can’t help but smirk, reveling in his obsession with her and her body. “If it feels like this every time— ohhh shit,” she moans when he hits that one spot that has her vision spotting, “then you can have it whenever you want, baby.”

Javier chuckles darkly. She should really be careful with the things she tells him because he will take her at a moment’s notice.

“Need you to come all over me. Show me how good I’m fucking you.” The intensity of his thrusts, combined with the sensation of him stretching her and his heavy balls slapping against her sticky clit, sends her spiraling into her third orgasm of the night. Her body writhes, walls fluttering around his cock and he tightens his hold on her.

Paloma’s mouth falls open in a silent scream, overwhelmed and feeling like her soul has left her body. She shakes and spasms, unable to control how she reacts to him. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Don’t get all shy on me now.”

His words are like a trigger, and she begins to babble incoherently, whines and moans pushing past her pretty lips, his name a repeated mantra as she sings for him. Javi, Javi, Javiiiii.

“That’s right, good girl. Takin’ this dick just like I knew you would.”

Feeling her pussy convulse, Javier loses himself entirely. Thrusts become erratic, his own grip on her leg surely leaving marks as he reaches the peak of his climax.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want it?” He needs her to tell him before he’s fucking his spend into her, filling her up and possessively claiming her cunt as his.

Her head whirls, blood roaring in her ears, and it’s a miracle she can even hear him with how intense everything feels. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “I-Inside. I’m on birth control,” Paloma slurs her words, squeezing their interlocked fingers, tilting her head to bite into his bicep, lazily moving her hips to get him to come.

With a final, harsh thrust, he spills inside her, cock throbbing and groaning her name while thick ribbons of his cum paint her fleshy walls.

They stay intertwined, both panting and spent, length still buried inside her. Javier presses soft kisses along her shoulder and neck, murmuring sweet nothings as they come down from their high.

She moves to capture his lips in a tender display of affection, their earlier urgency now replaced with a gentle intimacy. “Much better than the first time,” she whispers, his forehead resting against hers.

“It only goes up from here. Literally.” he jokes with a sensual roll of his hips and she hisses from the already there soreness.

Javi lowers her leg then, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her hip. “You were amazing.”

She smiles, feeling utterly satisfied wrapped in his arms. “It takes two to tango, baby.” The name of endearment clutches at his chest and he goes in to kiss her lazily, moving his hand up to wrap around her throat lightly, holding her in place while his tongue slips into her mouth.

She hums in content, still tasting herself on his lips, the smell of sex clinging to his mustache. “What time is it?”

He huffs, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Does it really matter?”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “Si, Javi, I told daddy I’d be back by midnight.”

With another amused huff, he leans over to glance at his alarm clock. “It’s five past eleven.”

“I should probably get up ‘n try not to look like I just got fucked stupid.” He chuckles and she smiles faintly, but neither of them make the first move to disconnect. Even as their mixed cum starts to drip out of her and down his softened dick.

“You could just stay the night,” he suggests, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Tell him you’re with Tammy or something.”

“Mmm, as tempting as that is we got mass in the mornin’...” Her voice trails off softly, looking over at him.  “And I told him I was goin’ out on a date so he’s expectin’ me back tonight.”

Javier frowns and she reaches up to smooth the crease between his brows with her thumb, reading his mind.  “Don’t worry. Didn’t say it was with you. Just told him I was goin’ into town for dinner ‘n a movie with a boy I met at the barbecue. He wasn’t too happy ‘bout it at first but he let it be. Like always. S’why I don’t think we should be so worried to tell him ‘bout us.”

He studies her face, blush still lingering on her cheeks, her lips swollen, a warm sparkle in her eyes. “So I’m just a boy?”

Another roll of her eyes followed by a snort, and she’s the one to move first, easing herself off his cock.

He groans softly, gripping her hips and pulling her back towards him.

“Javier,” she warns, a little annoyed by his childish reply.

“It was a joke, querida,” he places another gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I understand how important this is to you. Just give me some time.”

She turns in his arms to face him, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over the warm skin of his pecs. “Okay, fine.”

They stay wrapped up in each other for a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, tender caresses, whispered conversations until she finally convinces him to let her go so she can freshen up.

Javier leans against his headboard, a lit cigarette already between his lips, sheet draped over his lap as he watches her stand from the bed, fully nude.

Paloma begins to walk to the bathroom, bending over to pick up her dress and shoes. His head tilts in appreciation as he whistles lowly at the sight of her round ass and the tantalizing glimpse of her naked, used cunt.

“Pervert,” she teases, looking back at him with a playful grin.

“A beautiful sight, muñeca,” he replies, a naughty twinkle in his brown eyes.

Moments later, she returns, looking a bit more put together, and sits on the edge of the bed where he lies, reaching for the cigarette. He pulls it back teasingly.

“¿Y esto?” (And this?)

“That was the kind of fucking that deserves a cigarette afterward. Come on, baby, let me indulge in your vice a little.”

He hands it over, watching with hooded eyes as she takes a drag, the smoke curling from her mouth and nostrils, making her look fucking sexy.

“Everything you do is so hot. Me vuelves loco, bebita.” 

She smirks, leaning in to peck his lips before returning the cigarette to him. “Likewise, cowboy.”

He finishes it off, discarding it in the ashtray before grabbing his jeans, sliding them up his legs once he’s off the bed so that he can walk her out.

“I feel real fuckin’ terrible about having you drive back home this late at night.” He tells her as he leans against the doorframe of the front door, crossing his arms against his bare chest. Thoughts of recent incidents flicker through his mind. The unidentified girl at the hospital, how she’d been plucked from the crowd, beaten, then dumped out in the middle of the woods and left for dead.

He can’t and won’t imagine Paloma being in her place, because that will have him fucking spiraling.

She adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder, bouquet of flowers in hand. “Don’t worry, handsome, s’not that far of a drive.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Yes sir.” A saccharine smile pulls at her lips and he grunts.

“Don’t start nothing you can’t finish.”

“Then I guess I should get goin’.” She takes a few steps forward, placing a goodbye kiss to his lips.

He holds her waist gently, capturing her lower lip between his teeth in a soft bite as they part. “Drive safe, palomita. Thank you for coming over tonight.”

“I will. Thank you for, well, everythin’,” she blinks slowly, “It was all great… I do see the effort you’re puttin’ in, Javi.” Paloma reassures him and he appreciates it, he really does.

There’s reluctance clear in her eyes and her departure tugs at her heartstrings.

She wants to stay, he wants to keep her here.

With one final peck, she heads to her car. Javier watches as she pulls out and disappears into the night. His heart aches a little, but he feels a sense of fulfillment from how everything played out tonight. Things are finally starting to fall into place.

The whole ride home she reminisces. How can she not? He quite literally rocked her world. If she wasn’t obsessed before, she definitely is now.

She can’t help the way her thighs rub together. How she wishes she could stay the night and have him fuck her until the sun comes up. Her entire being is buzzing with euphoria, on a high that only good lovemaking can bring.

As Paloma eases into the driveway of her house, the headlights cast a soft glow over the front porch, where her father stands, waiting. The sight of him warms her heart, his silhouette outlined against the porch light.

“You enjoy yourself? He treat you right?” Romeo wastes no time, voice gruff and tinged with both curiosity and concern. He takes a slow sip from his cup, eyes lingering on the bouquet of flowers she holds as she steps up to join him.

Paloma feels a gentle flush creep up her neck at the memory of Javier’s touch, her core throbbing from the way he had fucked her. “Definitely,” she murmurs with a shy smile, her words still carrying the lingering sweetness of their evening.

“Now you can quit your stressin’ ‘n get to bed. We got church in the mornin’.”

[benevolent-yoon]

CUT from the Same Cloth [Series] Ch. 3

☆theme: Hybrid/Supernatural!AU

♡pairing: wolf!Hyunjin & leopard!Reader (Gray Wolf & Snow Leopard)

✧genre: Romance/Angst/Slight!Thriller

⚠︎warnings: |Death/Suicide/Religion/Cult|

❀summary: Hyunjin could never put his finger on it or describe the feeling perfectly, but something always felt off with his life… A little different from the rest of his clan, he manages to find solace with you. But the more he learns, the more he realizes who his family really is… ✑word count: 1.8k Author's Note: So school and work both kicked my ass simultaneously for a month, I am slow to upload but I'm not usually that slow, so I wrote this really quickly cause I was like damn it's been a minute... so apologies if it is short, I decided to break up this portion into three parts.

[TITLE PAGE]

|Chapter 3| Lies on Lies on Lies [ACT I]

Howls. Hyunjin woke up frantically, his good night sleep ruined by howls… He knew they were for him, he pulled away from you and his steering caused you to wake up as well. 

“What’s going on?” You asked, rubbing the tiredness off your face. 

“I have to go.” He deadpanned, taking off the sweater you let him borrow. Knowing he’d be questioned on where he got it from. He walked over to your table, grabbed his old ripped up one and put it on.

“Already?” You asked as you sat up, but the look in his eyes said everything. He didn’t want to, but if he didn’t go, he was going to be in serious trouble. 

“I promise I’ll try to see you again.” He sat down beside you and caressed your cheek. 

“Don’t.” You whispered.

He looked at you in disbelief, “What?” He asked, hoping he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Don’t.” You repeated. “Don’t try to see me again, I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” 

“You don’t mean that.” The first part he was referring to, not the latter.

“That’s not the point.” You both got up and you hugged him. 

“I’m going to find a way see you again.” He said holding you in the hug, it felt so natural.  

“Fine.” You huffed. “How are you going to get back without them knowing?”

“I have a plan, don’t worry about me.”

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sighed, holding his hand and walking towards the door.

Your comment made him smile as he opened it. “Okay worry, but don’t stress yourself out.” He caressed your cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” He didn’t know what compelled him, but he kissed your cheek quickly then jumped out the treehouse before you could react. 

To your surprise he landed very cat-like, a grounded stance. The jump was very high, it would usually throw a wolf a little off balanced, at the least, but not Hyunjin.

But before you could process this knowledge, he was sprinting off. Watching him made you wonder, What else he could do? You could tell that’s why his clan was so controlling when it came to him.

You quickly realized how different Hyunjin was from the others last night, his regeneration was better, which was a threat. You knew his sensing is one of a kind, another threat. And he had a lot of cat-like tendencies, which you were silent about knowing it's a sensitive subject for him. You weren’t afraid of Hyunjin, but it was easy to see why his clan was…

Hyunjin had a plan, one that he knew would work. After kissing you on the cheek it was as if he was on fire. A fire that burned all doubts and fears, leaving a clear mind and open heart. His senses were like no other, he chuckled to himself… realizing how self-assured he felt after being with you.

He could tell where everyone on his and your territory were, each member, each scent, sound, wavelength, everything. All of this had been a struggle in the past and now came with ease… Hyunjin felt powerful.

He ignored the howls, knowing how much time he had to pull of his plan. He raced towards Dahlia Mountain and built a quick yet messy shelter. He then thrashed and cut certain trees to make it seem like he had raged through there last night. He removed all of the bandaging you’d put on him, made a small fire close to his makeshift shelter and burned it. After that, he ran towards the cottage, he could tell everyone else was inside as there was only one member left howling for him.

Hyunjin speed and ferocious took Minho by surprise seeing the boy run in from the west instead of east, where he was supposed to be.

“Where were you?” Minho asked.

“I built a wood shelter outside of Dahlia Mountain.”

Minho tsked. “That’s why you took so damn long and why your covered in sticks.” Commenting on his messy appearance. “Why weren’t at the shed house?”

Hyunjin huffed, “What kind of stupid question is that? Why would I be anywhere near the cottage after what happened yesterday? Chan beat my ass and you guys just want me to act all normal about it?”

Minho sighed rubbing his forehead. “You know he’s still pissed right?”

“Of course.”

“So, follow the damn rules instead pissing him off even more by making your own.” He pointed out. “Also you’re staying in the shed house for a month.”

“Fine by me.” Lies… He was enraged, he knew Chan was going to watch him like a hawk. So finding time to sneak away and see you, was going to be hard. He could tell, Chan was giving him a challenge, one he didn’t think Hyunjin could take.

“What with that face?” Minho asked, snapping Hyunjin out of his thoughts. Usually Hyunjin wasn’t this stoic, he seemed a little gritty and steadfast.

“What face?”

“You went all serious there for a second.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. They really are watching me like a hawk. “Yea well my ass is in serious trouble, aren’t I?”

Minho shrugged playfully in agreement, assuming it due to the tension from the big blowout. “Did you eat?”

“No.” That was the truth. He didn’t manage to eat anything when he was with you, as he was caught up in conversation.

“Hungry?” Minho asked. Hyunjin nodded, walking over towards him. “Come on,” Minho said put his arm around the younger one’s shoulder. “I’ll make you something at the shed house. I think you and Chan should just avoid each other for the month.”

That was something Hyunjin could definitely agree on.

Within the first week of his toiling punishment, Hyunjin was on night watch.

Which if he was going to be honest, he loved. There were less members of the clan out in general, and he was stationed high up, which conveniently reminded him of your treehouse. Most wolves hated night watch for those exact two reasons. Although wolves can see in dim lighting, the do not have night vision like their counter cat clan. Which is why every night Hyunjin was persistent on keeping his awareness heightened. Every night in the same comfortable seated position, eyes closed, with a clear mind and open heart; he could sense anything.

He was on his 4th night when he sensed you coming towards the treaty line, he’s been tracing on whether or not you’ve been at your treehouse. And he hasn’t sensed you there until tonight. He knew you left a little after he did, probably due to the work you had, as your clan relied solely on you for a lot of tasks.

In his mind however, your aura shined brightly, as he sensed you getting closer towards your place. Your energy zoomed upwards and then was stagnate, for a long while, possibly 10 minutes. Why isn’t she going inside?

Intuitively Hyunjin opened his eyes, and it was as if his world brightened up as he could see you staring directly at him. Probably pondering thoughts about your last meeting, he gave a small wave and saw you perk up immediately, a small and quiet laugh escaped from his mouth. Cute.

When you ran towards your treehouse that night after being down with your week’s work, it had nothing to do with getting away from your family. And everything to do with trying to get a glimpse of Hyunjin, just to make sure he was alright.

When you were close to your tree house you could tell he was sensing you, if anything you don’t think he ever stopped sensing around your shared area. So after you climb up to your surprise, you see him sitting in a tree of his own.

You’ve seen plenty of wolves perched up there on night watch but none ever seemed nearly as relaxed or comfortable as Hyunjin looked right now. So you decided to sit and stare at him for little wondering what he was thinking, you knew he could sense you but no wolf has ever been able to see you. You stared at him for maybe 10 minutes before you saw him open his eyes.

You could tell he was focused on your treehouse but what surprised you was the wave. You perked up immediately to make sure you weren’t going crazy, and you saw him smile to himself from your energetic reaction. Which meant your theory was in fact correct. You held up your index finger, motioning to him that you were going to be gone for a moment.

“What the hell is she doing?” He whispered to himself with a smile, entertained by you.

He saw you come back with a notepad, and he didn’t think he could smile bigger, but it did. He saw you scribble on it before holding it up. ‘You can see me right?’

He nodded, and saw you flip the page to write some more.

‘Are you okay?’ Realizing he could only answer yes or no questions.

He wiggled hand and shrugged, basically meaning ‘yes and no’, or ‘more or less’.

Your brain felt a little bit messy, but you confessed anyways. ‘I miss you.’ You wrote.

Hyunjin cheeks were hurting, he hadn’t smiled this much in a while. He made a heart, indicating he missed you as well.

‘I have to tell you something important’ You wrote on the next page, ‘When can we meet?’

He sighed and shrugged despairingly. He really didn’t know; they were hounding and pestering him senselessly. Even indirectly talking to you from afar could get him in a ridiculous amount of trouble, but he didn’t care.

He held up his index finger indicating he needed a moment to think, to come up with an answer, an idea, anything really. And then it hit him… He placed his fingertips together to create a peak then made a circle with his hand and held it up where the moon would be.

‘Dahlia Mountain,  Next full moon?’ You wrote almost immediately.

That’s my girl. He thought, happy you understood so quickly and nodded. He pointed at you and made a resting motion with his hands, indicating you should go to bed for safety reasons.

You nodded, waved and sent him a kiss. He sent you one back before watching you close your door. He sighed contently, he was pretty sure he knew what you needed to tell him; he realized something, the moment he left your side that night.

He looked around his surroundings once more, smirking to himself.

These past couple of days Hyunjin felt an intensive change within his soul and body. With his old blockage being removed, his ability to sense his entire territory is becoming easier than ever.

And now, with his new enhanced night vision kicking in, he thought to himself. There’s no way they’d be able to tame me now.

[aylacavebear]

Dimensional Shift - Chapter 2

Story Summary: Maria was just a regular girl, worked at a gas station, wrote fanfic, and loved Supernatural. She even created her own supernatural creature for her writings. When the aurora borealis comes to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, one Halloween night, everything changes for her in ways she never expected. Will she be able to navigate this new world she's thrown into?

Word Count: 878

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Controlling parents, angst, family issues, weird events, drinking.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

It was late, nearly midnight on Halloween. She’d watched a couple of episodes of Supernatural after her shift at the corner store while eating dinner, then got back to writing. She had been so engrossed with her latest fanfic that the time passed without her knowing it as the words flowed from her fingers onto the screen before her.

When midnight hit, though, the lights in her studio apartment flickered, and the aurora borealis could be seen outside. That shouldn’t have been possible, not with her living in South Dakota. Maria got up from the table and headed toward the window above her day bed. 

Of course, her mind went to Supernatural; it was all she thought about, especially if anything odd happened, and this was more than odd. She could also almost feel the electricity in the air around her as she reached the window and looked outside. Maria would have found the sky beautiful if she hadn’t thought like a hunter out of Supernatural. The greens, blues, yellows, reds, and purples all seemed to blend together in odd ways as they danced across the night sky. Several shooting stars, which were meteors, streaked across the horizon. Her mind raced with questions: what the hell was happening? 

The power then went out in the entire city before a bright, blinding white light shined everywhere for a second, then it was gone, as was the aurora borealis, and the power was back on. Maria’s heart was pounding in her chest, and it felt like it was hard to breathe while the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and goosebumps ran down her body. 

Can’t sleep now, she thought to herself as she walked into her tiny kitchen, retrieving a bottle of whiskey and a glass before sitting back in front of her laptop. She poured herself a glass, but when she went to go back to her fanfic, it wasn’t there. Most of her personal information from the thing was gone, almost as if it didn’t exist. She spent the next hour attempting to figure out what had happened and why her things were missing, including her favorite fanfic sites that she had written for numerous times. 

She sighed through her nose before taking another drink of her whiskey, it no longer lightly burning the back of her throat as she was halfway through it.

Great, what the hell was that damn light, she thought to herself.

She got back on her laptop and attempted to search it out, knowing someone had to have captured it with their phone, but she found nothing. That was when she noticed the date on the bottom right corner of her laptop, 9/16/2008.

“That’s not even possible…” her voice trailed off as she stared at the date. It was supposed to be October 31, 2022. 

Maria believed in the older beliefs, where things started, and knew that All Hallow’s Eve allowed the veil between the world of the living and dead to be thinner than usual. Still, she had never really put a lot of faith in much of any religion in her life. 

“Could it really have taken me back in time, and if so, why am I still the same as I was?” Maria’s mind raced.

She went back to her laptop and attempted to look herself up. Why not right, just to see, but there was no record of her, her parents, or her family anywhere online, not even on social media. She leaned back in her chair, sipping her whiskey, perplexed and puzzled. Her father’s law firm didn’t even appear on a single search. Her drink was gone, so at this point, she just began drinking from the bottle but didn’t even realize that she didn’t feel any buzz; her mind was too distracted by what had happened. She continued looking for anything online, even friends she used to talk to, but found no record of them either.

According to the time on the bottom right corner of her laptop, it was only nine at night. Her head was spinning, but it wasn’t from the alcohol. She hadn’t noticed that all her contacts in her phone were gone; the photos that had once held pictures of her with her family and friends had completely vanished, as had the tattoo of a black cat on the front of her left shoulder. It wouldn’t even make any sense to her until the morning, and she had no idea. 

Maria had finished her bottle of whiskey, mostly frustrated at losing her writing but also at the fact that she couldn’t find any information she had been looking for to figure out what had happened with the aurora borealis, the short power outage, and that bright light. She spent another hour online, still looking for some shred of anything to ease her worrying mind, but still found nothing before she finally called it a night, crawling into her bed and sleeping.

Her dreams were always the same, at least this last year; they were of Supernatural and Dean, of the fanfics she had written and ones she still had yet to write. She had no nightmares, just her fantasies playing out while she slept.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3 - S4E1

Dimensional Shift Master List

Main Master List

[potatoesandsunshine]

“Amazing,” he babbles, while the Ranger’s sticking him with a stimpak. “She was... she was amazing. Quiet like death, loud like angels are.”

What the hell that means, Cass isn’t sure, but religious types’ll say all sorts of things when they’re messed up like this. The poor kid.

The second one makes it to them ten minutes later, just as unsteady, and he can’t say a damn thing. Just shakes his head, squinting his eyes against the lantern.

The third one comes walking up the road at dawn, arm slung over the Courier.

She’s bloody all over, it’s crusting in her hair and splashed on her boots, and she doesn’t quite stumble under his weight until the medic’s getting the soldier laid down.

“How many Legion left down there?” the Ranger asks her, ready to move his people in.

She looks at him, first rays of the sun glinting off the new machete at her side, and Cass is at that spot between drunk and sober where metaphors seem like the thing to do. The Courier’s the sun itself, bright and white hot, grin gleaming when she tells him, “Not a damn one.”

(From "there's no end to this road (but it's alright)")

thank you so much!!!!!!!!!! small jobs time!!!!

“Amazing,” he babbles, while the Ranger’s sticking him with a stimpak. “She was... she was amazing. Quiet like death, loud like angels are.”

so what happened here was, i listened to chasing twisters by delta rae about fifty thousand times while writing this installment. the courier... her cathedral is the badlands. does this line make me wince a little bit in hindsight? yes, it reads a bit corny. but it is still precious to me because of how earnestly i thought i was Doing Something with it at the time.

What the hell that means, Cass isn’t sure, but religious types’ll say all sorts of things when they’re messed up like this. The poor kid.

i have about ten thousand questions about religion in fallout. we know they have the bible, we know somehow mormons still exist, there’s interesting stuff re: churches in fallout 3 & 4, but i need to know more. there’s a reason it only gets mentioned as something peripheral in small jobs - i don’t have time to figure out what i think about it! there's probably a great meta post about this on this website somewhere but i haven't seen it yet. this is also a nice moment of sympathy from cass; i think about her dialogue around the people you encounter in the wasteland a lot, and in my opinion she’s a lot more sympathetic to general human suffering than she’d really like to be. when i’m writing her, and this was especially true earlier in small jobs, it’s important that her kindness always be begrudging. 

She’s bloody all over, it’s crusting in her hair and splashed on her boots, and she doesn’t quite stumble under his weight until the medic’s getting the soldier laid down.

my notes in the margin of the paper outline were: COURIER LIVES, MOST BEAUTIFUL THING CASS HAS EVER SEEN. she probably should have had worse fluids on her, considering she went through nelson with a machete, but i wrote that line out for being too gross.

She looks at him, first rays of the sun glinting off the new machete at her side, and Cass is at that spot between drunk and sober where metaphors seem like the thing to do. 

i had to give her liberator, i love all the named weapons scattered throughout new vegas. i was also really pleased at an excuse to let how in love cass is bleed onto the page - she’s not ready for it to be real, but it is.

The Courier’s the sun itself, bright and white hot, grin gleaming when she tells him, “Not a damn one.”

yay! everybody cheer! but i also wanted to bring in the sun as a symbol because of how violent a thing it can be, especially in the desert! there's no end to this road (but it's alright) is peak ‘the courier sees herself as the weapon and not the wielder’, which is something i really enjoy gesturing at throughout all of small jobs. i’m playing dead money on her save right now and this theme is doing something to my brain.

thank you again!!! i love talking about this so much, small jobs is my very favorite thing to write and think about!!!

[black-arcana]

Epica's Simone Simons: "I've been called the metal Barbie, but I don't give a damn"

Simone Simons talks Disney covers, pastafarianism and how Epica worked out their collaborative EP The Alchemy Project.

(Image credit: Tim Tronckoe)

For 20 years, Epica have been flying the flag for bombastic, extravagant symphonic metal, with the visuals and ambition to match. Their new collaborative EP, The Alchemy Project – featuring the likes of Myrkur, Fleshgod Apocalypse and members of Soilwork and Kamelot – is possibly their most ambitious work to date. 

We put your questions to singer Simone Simons on what it was like working with Uriah Heep, playing shows in Mayan ruins and that time she (almost) joined a black metal band. 

Wikipedia says you joined a black metal band for a cup of coffee before you became a member of Epica. If true, what was that band like? How was your corpsepaint game? Matt Mills, Twitter 

“Wikipedia is wrong! I never joined a black metal band. I was just there during a rehearsal, but never actually sang in the band. I went there to have a look, so it’s a half-truth, I guess. They were in my hometown and my friend’s boyfriend was playing in that band, so that’s why we went, but I was way too shy to sing along. Epica was my true first band.” 

How did the band initially meet? Scott Thrower, Facebook 

“I knew Mark [Jansen, guitars/vocals] because I was in a relationship with him back in the day. He started a new band [after leaving After Forever] pretty quickly, but because I was his girlfriend, at first I didn’t want to join. I helped them search for a singer. I thought I should do it by the book – finish high school and then go explore the world with a metal band. But when they asked me if I wanted to [sing for them], I thought, ‘OK, let’s just give it a go.’ And here we are, 20 years later!” 

Was there ever an aesthetic pressure to fit into the more gothic side of symphonic metal? Jazmin L’Amy, email “Not really, I’ve always done my own thing. I’ve enjoyed the visual aspect of being in the band, getting ready for the show, designing the clothes and everything like that. I’ve been called the metal Barbie, but I don’t give a damn. It’s more like a compliment than people realise! The aesthetics are a big part of our shows, photoshoots and videoshoots that people don’t really think of, and it’s a lot of fun to do it.” 

Consign To Oblivion is one of my alltime favourite records. Have you ever visited a Mayan ruin, and would you do a 20th-anniversary gig from one? Jo Cristobal, email 

“I think Mark did, I didn’t. Playing a show from one is probably going to be a little bit tricky with electricity and everything, so… ha ha! Maybe just an acoustic song or something like that! But Mark’s visited some ancient Mayan sites in Mexico – he was also the one who was interested in ancient Mayan culture and wrote lyrics about it.”

What topics would you like to explore in the future when writing new music Arley Rosales, Facebook 

“I don’t think too much about it. I just go with the spur of the moment: what’s happening in my life, what’s happening around the world… [2021’s] Omega was a very spiritual album, which was also a reflection of what was happening at that time. So I guess [our new music] is just going to be a continuation of that.” 

Epica albums often have a central concept or overarching narrative, like [2007’s] The Divine Conspiracy. What’s the most innocuous conspiracy theory you think might actually be true? Dan Hillier, Facebook 

“I’ve no idea! I’ve been off the religion train for a long time and unfortunately only had unpleasant experiences. I’m in no way anti-religion, though. The Divine Conspiracy was more about extremities within religion – the dangerous parts where they really indoctrinate people and put really weird ideas in their head. 

Religion can be a beautiful thing, but a lot of bloodshed has been in its name. With that album, we picked different extremities within different religions to highlight what’s been going on and what’s still going on. But yeah, it can be very dangerous, as we’ve seen lately.”

Hammer: is there one outside of religion you like? 

“The church of the spaghetti monster… what’s that called?” 

Hammer: The Church Of The Flying Spaghetti Monster. 

“Yeah, I love spaghetti. So I guess I’m not allowed to enter that church. Maybe I’m the spaghetti monster! Ha ha ha!"

The Skeleton Key encapsulated all that defines Epica as EPIC! What was the idea behind the song? Inn Ayyur, Twitter 

“Skeleton Key was written by Rob [van der Loo, bass], and the working title of it was ‘Inception’. Rob is a huge movie soundtrack fan; I am too. He showed me the song during our writing sessions for Omega and the lyrics written by myself are basically that everybody holds the key or the answers to the questions that you have within yourself and that you can unlock different rooms and hallways within yourself. On the one hand, that can be a good thing, but it can also be bad because you also have the power to let your demons free.” 

What songs from recent movie soundtracks would you play live? Mark Sayce, email 

“We’ve done that in the past with [2009 live album] The Classical Conspiracy and, funnily enough, today I was singing some Disney songs. I’ve done a cover of a Disney song from The Little Mermaid [Part Of Your World, released in 2021]. Maybe something else is gonna come up, you never know!” 

Where did the idea to do The Alchemy Project come from? Jac Holloway, Facebook 

“The idea was from Isaac [Delahaye, guitar/backing vocals]. At the beginning of the pandemic, he had the idea of writing songs with our friends in the metal scene. We reached out to all our friends who’d be interested, and that’s literally how the ball started rolling. It’s cool when you have this idea and you don’t know if it’s gonna work, because this is a little bit outside of our comfort zone. I think a lot of people will be very surprised with some of the songs that are on this EP.” 

How did you get Uriah Heep on the EP? Elliot Grimmie, email 

“Epica always like to add a couple of elements of surprise. That was also part of the idea behind this EP – that we could experiment! Rob has connections to a lot of musicians that are not necessarily in the symphonic metal scene, and Wake The World was one of the songs we started working on when we first had the idea, but didn’t really push the project through. 

So that song was one of the first we started with. I rewrote it to fit the vocal lines, but had the idea of what Phil [Lanzon, Uriah Heep keyboardist/co-vocalist] wanted to say in the back of my mind. It’s a really cool addition having him there.” 

What was your favourite bit about working on The Alchemy Project? Paul Baptist, email 

“I wrote a song with Charlotte [Wessels, ex-Delain vocalist] and I had a lot more input in the composition compared to what I normally do when writing for Epica. This time, I got to direct the song and it was really nice to work with Charlotte. She’s been putting out some great work recently since she started her Patreon and I really love her solo songs. 

We started going through ideas that she’d accumulated and I picked the melodies that she had lying around for Sirens - Of Blood And Water. We worked on that for almost a year, but working together was great. I was in her studio, she was in my studio, so it was a really intense writing session for this song and I really love how it turned out.” 

Who is on your bucket list to collaborate with? Lisa Aliss, Facebook 

“There are a lot of artists! I really like Aurora. She’s a Norwegian singer/ songwriter who writes beautiful songs and has a really beautiful voice – I think we could be a good match. I would also like to work with Rammstein one day – that’s on the bucket list.” 

Could you ever see Epica doing an arena headline tour? Emmy Willets, email 

“Maybe. I went to see Iron Maiden with Within Temptation and it was amazing. I prefer doing smaller shows because the interaction with the audience is just different and it just feels more cosy and intimate than an arena. Who knows, though. Maybe someday!”

[moon-ursidae]

SESSION #3 BABYYY (last one of 2022! happy new year ya’ll!)

as always, SPOILERS for BOTH of the last of us games are below!

okay so i didn’t get to play yesterday bc i played dnd for 8 hours and didn’t get home until 3AM LMAOOO

as always, notes are scattered, as are my thoughts. so apologies for that haha but let us begin!

total play time: about 5 hours

alrighty so the last time i quite literally did basically nothing LMAO

so the goal is to actually get some story goin this time

i’m gonna go to the nutrition center first bc the courthouse also sounded like bad news bears but hella worse

this looks like a religious place on the outside?there’s stain glass windows

GRASS STEALTH!!!!! YUHHHHHH

one of my favorite ways to stealth in games haha

assassin’s creed 3 was sooooooooooo good for that bro

oh shit! this is a synagogue! hell yea!

i like how dina sees herself as coming from a long line of survivors. the fact that those events even happened is tragic, but i like that she can see it in that way.

i really like ellie and dina’s dialogue here. while educating ellie (& the player) about jewish traditions and religion, it’s also showcasing the care that ellie and dina have for each other. you can tell that dina really cares about the synagogue and the religion bc that’s what she grew up with. and it’s bringing up fond memories of her and her sister. she feels comfortable telling ellie about her past, deepening their connection as she shares more with ellie. and ellie’s showing that she cares for dina by asking questions and engaing in conversation with her. she wants to know more about dina. and she’s genuinely interested in what dina has to say.

i fucking live writing. damn.

ANYWAY

NO GAS >:(

new journal entry👀

oh. this is hella sad. she’s crossed out joel’s name in a lot of places and wrote ‘him’ instead.

her questioning if she made it harder for joel by being there UGGGHHHH🥺

i wonder if when she writes “did she die alone?” if she’s referring to sarah? or maybe Dina’s sister? since she was religious? i dunno

and how she wrote “i want faith from pain” but crossed it out and wrote “i want faith through pain” like she has a somewhat better understanding of it from hearing dina talk about it. GOD it’s the little stuff man. this isn’t even main story dialogue.

on a completely different note. i also love the detail of being able to see the gas can in ellie’s bag and how it sticks out. that’s super fuckin awesome

okay dina’s thorough-bread joke was good lmao

and ellie’s “i’ve created a monster” LMAO

okay i think i’ve explored all that i can for right now, so i need to bite the bullet and go to the courthouse

when do i get a fuckin bow bro this would make stealthing so much easier

i have this whole ass courthouse to go through WITH NO BOW

oh shit! i just got and achievement for visiting every location in downtown! FUCK YEA

“let’s find that gas” i keep thinkin of the GATOR NEEDS HIS GAT. PUNK ASS BITCH. bc i thought it was “gas” for the longest time

i don’t wanna go down this elevator shaft. only bad things have happened in elevator shafts in this game series.

i did all of that, for like a shot of gas?

YA’LL

PULL CHAIN LIKE THE FIRST GAME WOOOOOOOOOO

“good job, babe.” I LOVE THEM

OMG THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT FIXING UP A FARM AND LIVING TOGETHER😭😭

“these old generators are pretty finicky so y-“ DINA STARTS IT LIKE IMMEDIATELY “sorry, go on?” I LOVE HER

FUCK i meant to upgrade my weapons before i left that area. SHIT.

HOTEL HOTEL NOTHING GOOD EVER HAPPENS IN A HOTEL IN THE LAST OF US

ellie getting pissed at the thought of the group that killed joel getting killed by infected and dina saying “then they’d still be dead ellie” is SO GOOD. SO GOOD. it’s a little glimpse at ellie’s determination to get her revenge. and how it’s beginning to consume her the closer they get

it’s too quiet in this hotel and i am extremely suspicious

ANUTHA CARD BABYYYYY

damn either someone was feeling destructive or just did NOT wanna look at themselves bc a lot of these mirrors are busted to shit

jesus fucking christ the LIGHTING is fucking phenomenal in this game

i don’t like that this door is ajar at ALL

oh fuck there’s a guy tied to a chair

“tommy did this.” I KNEW AS SOON AS DINA POINTED OUT THAT THE GUY DOWNSTAIRS WAS SHOT

“he was using them against each other.” DAMN TOMMY

wait joel lowkey did that same shit in the winter when he was looking for ellie. interesting

“joel told me about this” YUUUUUP YUUUUP

DAMN. LITERALLY THE SAME SHIT HE DID IN THE WINTER.

“it better be the same spot your buddy points to.” FUUUUCK BRO i didn’t know she was literally gonna mention how joel did this LMAO

oh shit tommy’s CLOSE then

i do have to wonder if ellie is jealous of tommy for taking out the one guy that was there when they killed joel. she kinda stood there for a while looking at the floor before saying much. and then at the end of the cutscene she stares at him. so it makes me wonder if she wishes that she’d gotten here before tommy?

ellie asking if dina was okay after seeing that ugh i love them

oh shit it’s raining! we’re REALLY in seattle now

THE FOG AND CLOUDS AGAINST THE TALL ASS BUILDINGS?? GORGEOUS

✨atmosphere✨

i also like that one of ellie’s idle animations is her checking for her knife in her back pocket

A BOMB?????? SHIMMER!!!!!!! DINA!!!!!!! FUCK DUDE!!!!!! WHAT?!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!

FUUUUUUCK SHIMMER NO BRO NOOOOOO

YOU’D THINK I’D LEARN MY LESSON ABOUT GETTING ATTACHED TO THE HORSE AFTER CALLUS

OH SHIT! WE’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED!

IT’S ONE OF THE FUCKERS FROM ABBY’S GROUP

wait SIDE NOTE this is the guy that played young sam from uncharted 4 ANYWAY

“i asked about a dude with a bitch scar across his face” I LOVE THIS ABOUT ELLIE BRO SHE DOES NOT TAKE SHIT WITHOUT ATTITUDE

OH FUCK DINA OH SHIT

“gotcha motherfucker” DAMN.

also watching dina fight him on the floor was brutal i was M A S H I N G square

the way the lighting comes in through the blinds and you can see the dust particles? INSANE

i just saw a truck of wlfs pull up with dogs.

this is something i’ve been horrified of, and that’s the dogs

FUCK

i JUST had to use this EXACT calculator for my stats class a few weeks ago what the fuck like i literally own this calculator

JESUS CHRIST MAN the transition from cutscene to gameplay is flawless. there’s little to no graphic transition holy shit.

this is really nice. just walking through this quiet neighborhood. a nice break up in the intensity

A POOL! marco polo uncharted 2 reference maybe????

nada. DAMN. i was hella hoping haha

there’s a fresh blood trail going upstairs and i know for a fact i’m gonna get fucking jumpscared again

AS SOON AS I TYPED THAT SHIT HE FUCKIN STARTED RUNNIN AT ME

CARD BABYYYYYY

okay i take it back some shit is gonna go down it’s too open and there’s some tall grass

ANUTHA CARD WOOOOO

TRAP MINES???

alright i’m gonna stop here to go attend new year’s events ugh haha

EDIT: i stopped playing a few hours ago haha i just forgot to post this so i totally forget where i stopped but it was in the neighborhood after the school full of wlfs where jordan gets killed

i still feel like i didn’t do much story wise, but that’s probably bc i spend so much time looking for secrets and stuffs

[orcelito]

I spent 3.5 hours laying in bed and Not Sleeping simply because it was not foretold. Still tried my best tho, and it was still rest even if it wasn't as good as actual sleep.

I'm up now to focus good and hard on my essay exam for the next...hmmm. well I have 12 pages to write. 3 pages per 4 sections. I did start on one section tho. And these have the benefit of being less heavy of topics as the ones in the first exam. Aka the "explain the differences between sex, gender, and sexuality in depth" and the "talk about how religion has impacted gender presentations" and the "discuss the impact of gender on psychology" etc etc. First one was unexpectedly tricky bc of how Hard it is to describe smth that feels like common knowledge. Like how do you describe the male sex without getting weirdly detailed on it Or just saying "male sex organs" or whatever??? Idk I made do. Religion was the chunkiest one and the hardest to do, by virtue of how much damn research I had to do. The psychology one was the one I rushed lol but the saving grace for it was that it just said "discuss" instead of like. Explain In Depth (like it did for the first two.) Which. The 2nd one was actually pretty easy, aka it was about explaining each term under the LGBTQIA+ acronym. I wrote that one the fastest (for obvious reasons lol) but it was still tedious to write it all out. Still not as hard as the religion question tho.

THIS EXAM....!!! The first question is asking about how sexual language has evolved over time. The second is about gender's effect on nonverbal communication. The third is about gender in TV and film. And the fourth is about sexism in the music industry.

So, certainly topics there are a lot to say about, but also not getting quite so deep in the historical or scientific sides of things. Mostly about modern sociology, I guess 🤔. And they all basically have the "discuss" prompt, so I just need to say some shit that's on-topic and answers the central question and I'll be golden!!!

So I'm Hoping it won't take me too too long. Best case scenario, I finish by... 4 am...? With the last one, it took me maybe 2 hours ish per prompt, except for the last one which I finished in a bit over an hour. Give or take a little. So if I stay on task and focus hard, maybe I can finish it in like 4 or 5 hours. Maybe 6. I'm hoping for not 8 lol. For it is 11:30 pm right now, and I will need to be up by 9 am. I'd like to get at least some sleep tonight!!!! So I will do my best.

[thefirewithinsblog]

A very short story I wrote about Vampires...

Philip - some random thoughts... (Rough idea draft.)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world we live in is different from the world we think we live in…

How it all began… I was 21 years old, going to college. I was majoring in Journalism and minoring in Criminal Justice. I found it interesting and enjoyed going to my classes.

I also read the papers a lot to see what was going on. I didn’t pick up on it right away, but when I did, I began to notice something...

Stories were appearing in many of the papers, here and there, about people finding bodies, not hidden somewhere, but out in the open: on sidewalks, in apartment doorways and bedrooms, in cars and trucks, supermarket aisles, exercise gyms, football stadiums, basketball stands, suburban backyards and swimming pools, prison cells, office building hallways, meeting rooms, in public and private bathrooms, construction sites, and any place else you could think of.

And the police couldn’t figure out how the killer got away, why he killed, why the bodies were simply left where they dropped, or how they died… Just bodies being found everywhere.

The killer also didn’t seem to have a particular type of victim that he targeted. The victims appeared completely arbitrary and from all areas of society regardless of background: women and men of all ages, positions, classes, statuses, and religions -teens and children, too.

What stood out in all these murders was that the killer’s choice of who they killed was as indiscriminate as raindrops falling from the sky - and where they irrevocably landed. Anyone... everyone... was game.

The only pattern was that there was no pattern.

The police, the public, and now I was baffled—and intrigued. What was going on?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later…

I could hear the rain getting louder on the top of my car. Damn. And it was already past two thirty in the morning, and I'd been waiting since one that afternoon. I was starving.

I was afraid to close my eyes -and doze off - afraid I'd miss something. So, I forced myself to stay alert, at least awake. Just in case...

The parking lot Mercurial told me to meet him in seemed fucking unsafe: deserted and forgotten. Anyone could quickly come up to my car, bash my head in, and take everything I got. Not money... Important stuff - stuff I use to hunt vampires.

And who would care? Or notice? Or blame them?

Only one other car is parked here, and it’s sitting about 50 yards behind me. It looked like it'd been there for the last twenty years.

The windows were filthy, no plates, the wheel hubs were visible, and small piles of old leaves were stuck under each tire – the rear ones were half flat.

At least my car doesn’t stand out, to be honest, I thought—it looks just as awful.

He told me to wait for him here no matter how long it took—and no matter what. The way he said "no matter what" seemed like an afterthought, something I could take or leave.

But I knew to take every word he said seriously. I'm beginning to wonder what he has planned...

In the last twenty-three years of doing this shit - ceaseless turmoil - and in all that time, from the dozens and dozens and dozens I've encountered, he seems to be the first sane one. I can ask him questions. And he answers.

When I met him, I could tell he wanted to bite me, but I was wearing a garlic necklace, which stopped him before he got too close.

I could see this bothered him… and a lot. It was the last thing he expected. I told him he didn't want my blood anyway. I eat garlic every day, so it wouldn’t satisfy him.

When he backed off, severely bothered by this protection I created for myself, he suddenly became civil and acted like a professional banker might when he realized his new client wasn't as rich as he supposed.

I started to think how old he might be... I had no idea. Ten-thousand years? Twenty? I could feel his power more vital than the other vampires.

He came across as far more potent than any of the others I'd met, hunting them and ultimately extinguishing them from the face of the Earth.

I didn't kill them. They were already dead. I just eliminated them using the tools and knowledge I'd gathered.

Suddenly, to my right, across the parking lot, on the other side of the street... I could not believe my eyes! —It was Mercurial… what the fuck was he doing?

... Brutally ravaging some young woman in front of her apartment building!

I could see her being mauled... She shook and convulsed like a rag doll in the mouth of some raging, rabid dog.

Her long dark hair slashed left and right in disjointed movements and furiously spinning.

Her shoes flew off her feet in a skewed trajectory, and her arms outstretched tightly, tense and flailing wildly.

Her purse strap twisted around her wrist, causing her purse to jerk fiercely away from her —then pulled into the air, spinning crazily in queer rotations from the sheer force upon her.

She was fighting for her life! But she was helpless...

I thought, NO! Not in front of me!

IN THE OPEN!

"Fuck... no!" I never even considered that this... what was he telling me...?

In the open! What a fool I was! Now, I'm involved in his shit, hardcore!...

My mind was racing… I'm now a motherfucking eye-goddamn witness to a horrific murder! With all the implications... Fuck me!

Should I immediately get the cops!? Should I stay in the fucking car!?

I was bashing my hands on the steering wheel over and over... feeling weak, tired and helpless, but more than that alone.

But Mercurial said, "Wait... no matter what…" And he meant it—regardless of how he said it.

I was so close…. And she was already dead.

What good would calling the cops do? There's no one else around.

They'd arrest me. Sometimes, the dumbest thing people do is call the cops rather than deal with things. Cops only escalate the situation.

Calling the cops is something they do in the movies. But in real life, cops are not your friends. I learned this time and again in this business.

Cops are law enforcement now, not the friendly neighborhood police officers of days of yore. Those days are long dead.

Was there anyone else around? I thought.

I whipped my head around, left, right. I opened the door and looked behind me.

I looked up at the apartment building's windows; perhaps looky-loos were sticking their heads out, noting the scene- and my vehicle.

But I saw no one. But you still never know... if someone's hiding in the background.

Her intense convulsion abruptly stopped within what seemed like the blink of an eye.

My attention excruciatingly fixed, my eyes riveted to the scene. I could see her body being tossed remorselessly onto the path leading up to the apartment building's entrance door - for anyone to see clearly.

There was no attempt at concealment—just the opposite.

I then heard the sound of the passenger-side door’s handle being pulled. The door opened, and Mercurial got into the passenger seat and, in the most ordinary of tones, told me to drive away.

He said it casually - but commandingly, much like how a patron might tell their chauffeur to drive off.

I was trying to keep two and two equals four together in my head… only barely making it….

I started the car, pulled into the street—off to my left side, I could see her body lying on the ground—and drove down the street as if I was on a Sunday drive, on my way to church perhaps.

Ironically, it was the last place Mercurial would want me to go.

I was now an accessory to murder. I had never before seen one of them actually do what they do...

I was safe... until now…

[000life-is-meaningless000]

I know what I wrote but on top of the fact that a lot of Christians let me know that fucking aliens are God damn demons or fallen angels

And that the Gin scattered to multiple Islands when they lost the battle in heaven and their goddamn religion

If you read the post I made under this post you'd understand that Christians are fancy announcing that Satan is God, or Lucifer or whatever the fuck name they're calling him now.

They're basically admitting that He's, Almighty all powerful and all knowing.

Because they looked amount of list of shit that people say that what Satan can do is Powers his abilities and all that bippity boppity shit and how much shit that Satan rules over from the Earth to the universe to the actual fucking Multiverse makes no fucking sense to me

Coincide Christians would let you know that God created everything and then they'll turn around and say embracing anything or loving anything God created including God himself is satanic and only love the father

Despite, the way it gets even fucking worse

? ? ?

God made everything but everything is Satan ?

? ? ?

Satan is all nature Satan is all animals he's also all the fallen Angel he also is omnipotent optimism omnipresent it was allowed to fuck with scriptures in the end days that's where he's so many Mandela effects in the Bible cuz it's all quantum

He's all aliens all aliens are said to be demon so therefore the vastness of the universe is is a demon the universe is a demon yet Christian will let you know that the Earth is fucking flat and even though it says the bite in the Bible it says the Bible says that the second heaven is basically space the second heaven is space the first Heaven is the sky the second heaven the space and the third heaven is heaven

So what they're saying is that everything they say God did Satan did ?

So prick Christians are kind of saying that God is Satan and they'll tell you no don't say no God isn't fucking Satan it's just that Satan has equal amount of power of God but he doesn't have equal amount of power of God

Christians are schizophrenic as fuck

. . .

So as everything is Satan the pagans are Satan is everyone's a devil worshiper and all different sex of the abrahamic faith are are demonic Christians are satanic Jews are satanic Muslims are satanic abrahamic anyone is satanic fucking

If your stavagus you're a fucking State and you're a fucking devil worship wherever you're a Christian you're a devil worshiper of your Catholic you're a devil worshiper of your Satan is you're obviously a devil worshiper if you're an atheist you're a devil worshiper it's fucking impossible NOT to fucking get this title

If you do this you're a devil worshiper of your that you're a devil worshiper Satan has power over this Satan has power over that Satan has power over the prince of the air Prince of the earth Prince of the water Prince up a fire

IT WAS A PRINCE OF ALL THESE THINGS WHO THE FUCK IS THE KING ! ! ?

So as a lot of questions I will explain that Satan is going to go to war against God and I'm just trying to figure out how is that going to make any fucking sense if God is going to basically destroy everyone everywhere and everything because Satan has basically more souls than they're in heaven is over there's probably over a googolplexian amount of souls in the spirit Realm

With that being said that's a lot of fucking 2nd Death's !

Aka, The Death of The Soul !

. . .

And that's why I wrote what I wrote it because I paid attention throughout my life all the things that religious people have complained about and said I actually paid intense amount of attention to all the crazy Christian shed the Catholic shed because I had to they're threatening as fucked they're crazy and they're fanatical and they're extremely fucking threatening

Deeply loving something doesn't make you a fanatic have being being wild with passion doesn't make you a fanatic being deeply irrational and passionate makes you a fanatic

The abrahamic Faith, is a faith for the insane, and it only gets worse when you when you I've actually been around to abrahamics and I've seen Jews Christians and all kinds of Catholics all get into fights and they got violent over for a faith That's So based and Truth is amazing how many how broken up it is and how many people fight over the truth and have their own truth and have their own Jesus they have their own version of the Bible they have their own I can't account of how it all went down everyone has their own little everything they all believe in ? But you it's rare to ever find two people in society that can agree on the same fucking Abrahamic Data ?

Hey you wonder why there's so many people saying religious religion is insanity or religion is for the insane ?

🤨/😡

Which is fucking Bullshit !

😡

[itskatepaddington]

The New Black

Trigger warning: death, grief

Dad, I promise you I’m not wallowing in it anymore. Or at least I’m trying not to. And it’s almost my birthday, and I’m headed for Paris for a few days, and it is a nice experience after all, so I’ll call mum and M (she wants to go and I’ll take her there one day, cause that’s what older sisters do) when I get there. I promise I’ll enjoy it in a very wobbly way x

If this helps anyone at any point, that probably answers the question of why I wrote it.

I’m lying, somewhat. It is for me, too, after all.

I didn’t really have to wear mourning. First of all, I was abroad. Besides your friends, seldom does anyone really give a damn in a big city. I don’t think anyone asked me why my wardrobe rarely seemed to have any colours beyond black and muted colours later. In the Western world, where it used to be a ritual, the symbolism of it has been lost: beyond just a stylish colour, it means little. Even the mention of wearing mourning would probably make people a little bit confused. Announcing that choice would be an instant comparison to something a Victorian widow would do. 

But in the small town I come from, many people still look to their neighbours and still follow the old customs that spring from Christianity. I was raised Catholic, but I consider myself an atheist now. And to be clear: I don’t miss organised religion. Ever since I was a teenager growing up in a small Polish town, I questioned the part it played: for me as a woman and someone who wanted to get an education that involved science, and in public life. And this is where I landed. I understood what it meant to people historically - especially as a Pole - and I respected other people’s beliefs. Its continued dominance in Polish culture and politics is a complex and thorny topic, well worth another essay by someone better versed in history and sociology than I am. It can feel hard to explain your stance to people who haven’t seen or understood it sometimes, but that’s some context for you. 

That aside, it wouldn’t be too scandalous not to wear mourning. The habit started disappearing with the older generation. But as I hurried through the high street to buy dark clothes for the funeral and my visit, I asked my mum about the ritual.

“Six months of mourning,” she said, “and then another six of half-mourning.”

That meant wearing all-black for half a year, then introducing different muted colours half a year later. One last mark of respect. A way to keep that memory alive. 

“I don’t think he would want you to wear mourning, though,” she said immediately. 

“I know,” I said, and I wore black throughout my stay. It was a way to pay my respects; it was something everyone recognised at this time, in this place where everyone had known me since I was a baby.

But my yearning to keep that ritual didn’t hit until a little later. With my mum and sister, I decided that returning to work as soon as possible would be best. You get restless easily, my sister argued. Better to keep yourself busy, my mum said. I kind of wanted to start doing things, and a lot of them, again. I didn’t want to think too much. But when I returned home, I was in my own space with my very own thoughts once again. Not ideal for someone whose anxiety can send them beyond the edge.

Funerals are for the living, not for the dead, and in 2020, hundreds of people were deprived of that. If we got to say goodbye, it probably was under severe restrictions. That meant fewer stories from the community and with them, opportunities to commemorate the person and to share the heavy load of grief. In many cases, we were all grieving some losses. The world we knew spun out of control, we were stripped of certainty, and rules seemed to have changed on a whim according to what the economy dictated. 

At the time, it was still rather hard to see other people. I abode. It was important, and I for one knew what it was like to have an immunocompromised family member. And truth be told, I developed a bit of anxiety around getting sick. For most of that time, I had a bubble with my friends who lived nearby - it was a thing that often saved me from going completely insane. I worked remotely and saw my other friends over Zoom, in parks, or in restaurants with outdoor seating. But none of my friends here had ever met dad. They’ve heard stories. They knew he played a huge part in who I became. They understood he was a complex but wonderful person. And this is why I am so grateful for having them in my life, especially at that period of time. I thank them for trying to make me feel less shit or just listening. But I had things I had to work through alone. 

As a stereotypical older kid who’d always received a fair share of responsibility, I’m of the people who dislike being a burden and will run from that feeling, even if that assumption may be entirely imaginary. And that’s why I was so desperate to find a way to soothe the pain on my own. Blunting it in usual ways worked for a time, but a deep cut straight through the heart refused to heal cleanly. It did its own thing. It broke through the stitches to dry up on its own to do it all over again. And I failed to understand the process.

We don’t externalise our grief as much anymore. The disappearance of certain rituals may be a sign of it, and mourning is a perfect example of that. When I was looking for my own answers, I discovered that this entire set of rules was slowly dropped in the UK after the first world war - because in the face of suffering on such an unprecedented scale, working through that many losses proved difficult. You’d want to package it up and hope it doesn’t spill through the cracks, after all. I totally believe that statement. After all, I’m of the generation that didn’t get time to process much of what keeps on constantly going on, too.

We get a short window to deal with grief in a simple, externalised, shared way. Much of it is a haze filled with paperwork and simply facing the realisation that the person you loved will never walk through the door or pick up the phone again. As a society, we talk about it quickly and quietly: in condolences, then in confusion when the person seems a little overwhelmed for longer than we expected them to. 

The grieving want it to be over, but also feel the need to keep and cherish the presence they miss. And the people around them often don’t know what to say. Those who understand that nothing will make it worse and come to you with open arms even if they may not completely get it, those who bring you parcels of food, those who keep trying and call you to do your walk up the hill and talk about nothing in particular - they’ll help. You may end up being hurt and disappointed by people who failed to say anything at all, maybe because of that lack of words that everyone kept mentioning just around the funeral time. But several months in, silence is heavy, rings in your ears, and becomes an ultimate disappointment. You feel like you’re being mentally flogged during holidays and anniversaries. Father’s Day is a mess, with the innocuous adverts in shop windows becoming torture by a thousand cuts. Even happy events like birthdays have a staggeringly blue undertone to them. 

And then, fewer people remember. You need rituals, even if they’re devoid of meaning for others.

But where to find them? Coming up with those while bandaging up my heart to keep it from bursting at the stitches clearly wasn’t working. So I scoured the internet articles to find answers. I picked up that grief book by Sheryl Sandberg. Reddit, of course, cause that’s where we all go for bullshit lived experiences. But a lot of what I discovered seemed to rationalise this unreasonable, shape-shifting, ever-encompassing and overwhelming weight that just wouldn’t budge and move into the neat frames I prepared, understood and was ready to put it into.

Even some ways of dealing with pain involve measuring it using arbitrary scales or timelines. Doesn’t everyone know about the stages of grief? I know them by heart now: denial; anger; bargaining; depression; acceptance. It’s one of these concepts from pop psychology familiar to many people. I was aware of them before I was thrown into the abyss of my thoughts. 

But no one told me that grief was like a vortex with the power to suck out all the energy you throw at it. The more you feed it, the stronger it becomes. If you get lost in the peaceful waters of feeling nothing at all and swim a little bit too far into it to cool down, it shows you an undercurrent so strong that it could drown you if you let it. Or, as many have described it, maybe it feels more like a tidal wave that comes and goes, not a diagram of stages that is clean-cut and separated from the last neatly parcelled bundle of emotion you experienced.

All the notion of stages had ever accomplished for me was leading me to constantly compare myself to where I was on the scale. Was I just a dysfunctional exception from everyone else’s pristine grieving processes? Why don’t I have my shit together?

When was I going to be productive and fully functional again? Why do I feel depressed? What are the chances these are my hormones - it felt like the denial stage last night? Why did I want to punch everyone in the throat for a week? Wasn’t I meant to be in the bargaining stage already? Why did I find some bullshit excuse to berate someone who didn’t deserve it? Why was I feeling suspiciously good and distracted at this music festival my friends took me to? That feels wrong. 

And when will it stop hurting when I least expect it?

I’m trying to keep a volcano from erupting, and I don’t know how long I can deal with that force. Will it go to sleep quietly, or tear through whatever I’ve got going on at the minute?

Cue the rituals. When everything is uncertain, not even your behaviour when you try to keep it under control, or even your beliefs moulded and challenged in fits of rage, you so desperately yearn for some kind of a constant. Something you can return to that is stable while everything else seems to be like a mess. This is how I made the decision to, or rather gradually slipped into the idea to wear mourning. It just made perfect sense. 

I stuck to black clothes most of the time, to begin with. Even if we’re thankfully far from the eighteenth century and no one would see any deeper reasons for me dressing in one colour, it was meaningful for me. It honestly didn’t matter if no one else saw the point in it; it was that one thing that I was in control of, and it seemed like a relatively healthy way to express what I was feeling amongst constantly coming up with a sleeve of ideas that kept me far out of dealing with my emotions healthily. It kept that memory with me a little longer. And at the back of my head there was this assurance I could quietly withdraw it when I felt ready. My emotional crutches were propping me up in an uneasy mess that I was still trying to make sense of - especially since melancholia and anger still happened just as often.

And so I was performing my open secret for myself in plain sight, externalising my pain to the entire world without a single person being actively aware of it. I was wearing my heart on my sleeve, silent, unnoticed.

It continued for a while. With time, I started giving myself exceptions - on days I felt better, for example. And I started welcoming that change, too. When I returned to my wardrobe after a while, I felt I found joy in getting dressed up once again. It used to bring me a lot of joy pre-2020, and maybe I can find my way back there. 

Mortality is inevitable, unquestionable and final; yet the pain doesn’t get any smaller if you’re aware of it and comes back in waves months after, with more warm tinges than these blue ones as time passes by . Faced with grief we always sought solace in rituals and stories to give ourselves hope. And even if we’re disconnecting it from any philosophical framework, having this ritual helped me. Because in the end, I'm only human who looks for constants and answers.

[lifblogs]

I have read a lot tonight, so a few things that are just going to be nonsense, but I have to get them out:

Tycho Terrens’ home being half-built into a mountain was genius, and definitely one of my favorite settings so far.

My second favorite setting is actually from what is sort of a flashback scene. A northern marsh with fog. I don’t know why, just thought it really worked for the story. The fog for sure definitely made me feel dread. I adore/hate (MCD in the scene) how the setting was used to cause problems or aid any fighters.

I can see why Cassius doesn’t talk about his friend Quintus’ death all that much (not that death is easy to talk about). Like I predicted, his friend died saving him. I can especially see why he doesn’t talk to Horatia, Quintus’ sister, about it.

Earlier in the book Horatia asked if Quintus was afraid when he died (I think that was the question), and Cassius said no. Quintus’ last words were actually words of fear.

Flashback scene was a whole chapter, and I went in knowing that Quintus would die and Cassius would be injured.

Whump community, Cassius took an axe to the arm. It didn’t chop it off because it went through his shield first.

This book is way more gory than I expected!

How many concussions has Cassius had? Damn! This man has been getting knocked around.

I’m now curious to know which scene of the book Marshall first envisioned and if it was the first scene he wrote, and if not, which scene did he write first?

Interesting that Cassius doesn’t seem to see that there’s racism when it comes to one of the Republic’s enemies despite his people’s religion being discriminated against within the Republic. Actually, I just figured it out. He was raised on propaganda of the Republic being right and good, realizing the racism would throw away the 12 years he spent as a soldier, if the racism hadn’t existed he wouldn’t have gotten so badly injured and wouldn’t have lost his best friend, the racism with their enemies looks different than what his people, the Ayu’li, have gone through under the Republic.

[c-is-for-circinate]

So somebody reblogged the last 'yes I need to talk about Jrusar's Secret Government' post with thoughts/questions about the Tal'dorei council, and it made me want to get in here and actually write the damn holy shit Matthew Mercer your city is run entirely by a SECRET SHADOW GOVERNMENT WHAT THE FUCK post, so here we go.

(I wrote a whole essay, and somehow I didn't even get into the rampant corruption, because there's so much to say even outside of that, but: minor spoilers for general worldbuilding throughout C1, C2, and C3, extremely minor plot spoilers I think for C1 and maybe C3 before episode 3.09? Mostly this is about worldbuilding.)

The thing is that, right, "who's on the Tal'dorei council?" was a long-running joke during Campaign 2, but, aside from some suggestion during EXU that there may be secret council members (and EXU is canon, but that doesn't mean it's explored canon), the Tal'dorei council isn't actually a secret. The Mighty Nein don't know who they are, and have absolutely zero in-universe reason to know who they are, because it's like knowing the entire slate of cabinet members of a foreign country where you've never been and also TV and airplanes don't exist, and like, I don't know about you but I can't even remember the new Chancellor of Germany who literally just got elected a few months ago. This is why Matt keeps giving the players shit for asking. Not because nobody knows.

The Tal'dorei Republic is the sort of confused confederacy you get when you start building a fictional government in bits and pieces without a big overarching plan, because this is a D&D game you play with your friends over brunch. It's also the sort of confused confederacy you get when there was an empire, except its borders had sort of stopped expanding a while back more or less, and then the king stepped down and then five minutes later there were dragons, and everyone's still sort of trying to figure out exactly how politics work again. Politics, on that level, were never really the point of Campaign 1, and they didn't get a ton of focus. There are probably really interesting things to explore there, but thematically, politics really started being a thing in Campaign 2, and oh boy howdy did they.

Campaign 2 is about fascist nationalism. Like, it is! It just is! That's it, that's -- well, not the whole thing, but a pretty central piece of the thing. The Somnovem are the Somnovem (and actually, hmm, I want to think about how Cognouza's backstory relates to C2's political themes), and they were important at the end, but the entire campaign held the running thread of Dwendalian Empire and Cerberus Assembly, and their manufactured war against the Krynn.

And we see a lot of what fascist nationalism looks like, in C2. We see intense propaganda machines full of fear of the Other, particularly aimed at riling people up against this very convenient scary enemy of ~dark elves~ and their ~strange dark magic~ and ~oooh, monsters~. We see tight governmental control over even personal aspects of everyday life. Certain religions are banned. Magic is highly regulated. Government is present everywhere -- even small towns have magistrates and Starostas and Crownsguard, generally according to the same system throughout the empire.

There's a strong central government that's generally not split between factions. No, really! The Cobalt Soul is a respected institution, but they're not so much a faction of government as they are an independent body with a lot of weight and respect. King Dwendal is relatively ineffective, but he's managed by the Cerberus Assembly, not in opposition to them. The Assembly itself is full of politics and backbiting and infighting, but by and large, to the country itself the Assembly presents a united front, and that front is united behind the crown. The horrifying back-alley secret spy work, torture, and assassinations are all run by the same people who run the government at large, who everyone knows run the government at large, in service to furthering the power of the government at large (and therefore their own power, of course, because one thing feeds the other.)

It's a power struggle, but it's not a class struggle, not really. The average citizens of the Dwendalian empire generally do pretty well, when they're not being targeted or scapegoated by some machination of the government itself. It's easy to be middle-class in the Empire, or to convince yourself that you're middle-class, to be a farmer who never has trouble putting food on the table, to be a merchant or a blacksmith or a winemaker or an artisan. It's easy to enjoy a fine standard of living even if you're not one of the people with power. So long as none of the people in power decide you're more useful in misery.

Jrusar is different.

The government of Jrusar is secret. Nobody knows who runs the city. People take it on faith, generally, that somebody runs the city -- infrastructure is maintained, cops get paid, there's no open warfare in the streets most days -- but this city is fucked up in ways that sometimes mirror the Dwendalian Empire, and sometimes are entirely new.

When I call C3 a class warfare campaign, what I mean is that it's been showing us economic stratification everywhere we look since day one. We have seen, thus far, no middle class in this city. We've seen astonishingly rich people, but mostly we've seen working-class people just about scraping by. We see aging artisans, those people who would have been comfortably middle class in Emon or Zadash, trying to make ends meet by letting out their spare room or breaking a werewolf out of jail for a job recommendation. We see bartenders and performers who never appear to be making enough to support a family (unless that family is part of the trade and performing too). We see warehouse and factory workers who go to those bars and performances and bars and bars and bars at the end of their workdays, and drink their dinner and eat their Meals. (People drink a lot, in Jrusar. People drink a lot in CR in general, but then, our parties have always been on the move and staying in inns and taverns to begin with, and when they had a place to sit and settle they'd inevitably find neighbors who did all sorts of things with their evenings that weren't 'go down to the local and get blitzed'.)

Nobody seems to have a spouse, a family, children. There really don't seem to be a lot of children in Jrusar.

Which isn't to say that all of Jrusar is like this! There are several spires we've never even visited, and plenty of places throughout this very big city that could be a world of experience away. There are plenty of places in Tal'dorei and the Empire, likewise, that might function like this. But that's why it's a campaign theme, not just a locational one -- because the places we're looking in C3, the things we've actually seen, all fall into this same pattern. And some of that is absolutely down to the way the government here functions.

The thing we keep hearing, over and over again, from all sorts of different corners in Jrusar, is 'the city's going to shit'. Nobody ever follows it up with a 'since'. It's never 'since that guy took power', or 'since the Natural Disaster', or 'since that new policy went into place' -- it's just going, going, gone towards some unspecified "shit". A gradual worsening of general affairs. A diffused, maybe even imaginary, decline.

This isn't an accident, either on Matt's part or on the part of the people in charge of the city. The interesting thing about 'the city's gone to shit' as a muttered refrain is that nobody necessarily agrees on what that means. (Who here has heard 'this country's gone to hell in a handbasket' before? Which hell? Which handbasket?) What was it like before that was so good, that we've lost now? Do people even know, do they have concrete things to point to, or is it just a sort of pervasive discontentment? Fear and insecurity because of violence, because of poverty, because of working too hard? And the violence has always been there (but maybe not in your neighborhood), and the poverty's always been a problem (but everything just keeps getting more crowded), and work is work (but there are more jobs in mining than in making things, and look I'm not saying Marxist concept of alienation of labor, but I'm also not NOT saying that ok).

People are unhappy, and they don't really have anything concrete they can point to as the source of their unhappiness. Not on any unified, structured basis, not as a movement rather than a couple of dozen people hidden in an attic.

And this? This is great for the people in power in Jrusar. Sure, everybody's unhappy -- what of it? Unhappiness is always rampant. The important thing is that nobody's directly unhappy with them.

Nobody can strike up a petition to demand that Bobby Treshi step down from the Chandai Quorum if nobody knows Bobby Treshi is on the Chandai Quorum. Nobody can show up at Suzie Lumas's office and make her pay attention to anything if she doesn't have an office. Nobody can influence, petition, persuade, bother, or cancel anybody in the Quorum if nobody knows who they even are.

What's more, this seems to be related to a general lack of transparency in governance in Jrusar in general. There's another essay I want to write about Rule of Law in C3 (which I was going to include here but holy shit this post is already REAL LONG), but basically what it sums up to is, I have no idea exactly what's legal or illegal here, and my guess is that much of the people who actually live in this city agree. Is murder legal? Okay, but what if a bounty hunter does it? How do bounty hunters work, exactly? Who pays the cops' salaries?

One important aspect of the Tal'dorei council is the simple fact that, not only are the names of the council public, so are their respective positions. We know that there's a Master of Development whose job is civil infrastructure, and a Master of Commerce whose job is the budget, and a Master of Law who runs the courts. We know what the jobs even are. We know their duties and responsibilities. We know how the republic is run.

We know none of that, here in Jrusar. Not only do we not know who's in charge of civil infrastructure relating to public transit, we don't know if anybody is. Do the sewage maintenance projects just get sort of shoved off onto the desk of whoever in the Secret Cabinet Meetings doesn't nose-goes fast enough? Is there some young mid-level civil servant somewhere who's running the entire cable car system single-handedly because his boss can't get an audience with her boss outside of a thirty-minute appointment slot booked two weeks in advance, and even then she's only talking to the Official Mouthpiece of the Council rather than the councilor themself? How the fuck does anybody get anything done???

And like, many of these are basic logistical questions that can get kind of smoothed over in a fictional universe and a D&D game, because mid-level government bureaucracy isn't nearly as sexy as secret conspiracies and elaborate heists. But we also see the results of these things manifest in the campaign itself. We see the wild, rampant stratification between people who definitely go to dinner parties with whoever's in charge of the government (even if you're not sure who at this dinner party it is), and the people who don't even have a name to call out. We see the no-oversight corruption endemic in the police system, which definitely appears to be the only way most people in the city interface with their government at all. We see citizens who want specific, targeted change trying to do it via flyers and petitions that maybe nobody will even see.

We see the way basic infrastructure amenities like the cable cars could be improved -- and this was sort of a joke, last Thursday, except that it's not. It came up because the players themselves are feeling the nickle-and-dime ding of having to pay the same toll that working-class citizens in Jrusar have to pay every day, unless they can afford to live in the same nice spire where they work, unless they can't afford to move out of the same shitty one. And there's nobody to tell, nobody in charge who would even know it was an issue.

Jrusar is a mess. And it's a mess in the way that a city-state with a government this utterly un-transparent should and would be a mess.

[panlight]

The cushioning of bella's pregnancy is disappointing to me, bc not only did it cut out healthcare concerns but it also cut out bella's indecision, which could have been even more interesting. I mean, I don't have any experience with normal pregnancy, but surely there would be a period of soul searching when she found out she was pregnant? In an ordinary pregnancy, almost certainly, even if she would become attached after a while. And this isn't a normal pregnancy! She's dying and breaking bones and vomiting and needing to be carried from the couch to her bed. I could accept that maybe maybe she decides eventually to keep it (bc it's edward's or she's aware she won't have this chance again when she's a vampire or whatever) but her pregnancy only lasted a month! A MONTH. There's no way at least a part of her isn't wondering if she's making the wrong choice or whether she's going to die, which she must be scared of even if she's willing to accept it. That could have really been something to the cullen family too! I doubt Carlisle would be as staunch in his support if bella is visibly scared and indecisive and I want to see rosalie express some raw emotion, desperation, compassion, anger at edward for trying to persuade her in such a scenario, with bella wavering and crying in stress and stuff, not just her being so determined she won't be swayed by Edward's (and everyone she's close to) obvious pain and fear and worry. That really would have been something.

Originally in "Forever Dawn" the whole story was from Bella's POV, so even the pregnancy. Perhaps in that version we got more of what Bella was thinking, more of her doubts, more of her worry? But perhaps not--SM's characterization of Bella is basically that once she decides something she is All In. So once she decided she was keeping this baby ("not any child but THIS child, Edward's child") and how it "wasn't a choice, it was a necessity" I don't know if SM would really have allowed Bella to waver or worry or question too much. She was going to do this, she was right about this, it would all work out somehow damn it. At least that's the 'tone' I seemed to get from what we do see of Bella in Jacob's portion of the book.

Overall I think the whole pregnancy needed more nuance. It's all so black and white. It's "Keep the pretty perfect baby alive!!" or "abort the bloodsucking hell demon!!!" and like, there's a lot more gray area here? This isn't a typical pregnancy. They really don't know how vampiric this entity will be, and it's growing so quickly they know that whatever it is, it isn't entirely human. That's a valid discussion. It's also pretty clearly putting Bella's life at risk, and most religions will allow termination of a pregnancy if the mother's life is at risk (the Mormon stance, for example: "The Church allows for possible exceptions for its members when [. . .] a competent physician determines that the life or health of the mother is in serious jeopardy."), which Bella's very clearly is. FORCING Bella to terminate is morally repugnant, but explaining the situation to her, trying to convince her from a sense of worry for her, begging her out of desperation to reconsider . . . all that seems reasonable and even appropriate considering the circumstances.

Esme is the only one in the family who has ever been pregnant or given birth, and as usual she isn't given much of a voice here. Carlisle's mother died in childbirth, which never comes up or seems to be a factor in this discussion at all, but it seems relevant when Edward in storming around in the movie, at least, all "how could I love it if it killed you?" like oh hey! There's a potential character interaction here that would be really intr--oh? we're not going to even mention it? Not even hint at it? Really? But she specifically wrote that his mother died in--? Okay. Whatever.

It's just all so oversimplified and taken to extremes and these deeper, more nuanced discussions aren't happening and honestly that all seems much more interesting to me than the "precious baby!" vs "kill the demon!" stances we got. The idea that everyone would be firmly in one camp or the other seems wholly unrealistic to me and frankly, kind of boring.

[i-want-my-iwtv]

I hope the rumours of Louis being a brothel owner aren't true, but if they are I can sort of see why they're going for this route? I mean, with a black Louis they can't have him being a slaver anymore, so maybe they're trying to find something that is also morally reprehensible for him to be.

TL;DR: My kneejerk reaction was to be saddened, and I don’t like that this is starting up, and will continue to fuel, fandom drama. Ultimately, if we want peace, we’ll embrace the fact that the existence of this adaptation doesn’t take away from the existence of the books, and it also doesn't mean we have to acknowledge it.

It makes me wonder whether AMC wants us to make a storm about this. We’ll see...

After all, what makes this adaptation any more important than the graphic novels of the ’90s, the graphic novel Claudia’s Story, movie!IWTV, or movie!QOTD? In fact, many fans here on tumblr consider VC to be a trilogy only!!! and don’t accept the majority of the PUBLISHED CANON so what makes anyone think we have any obligation to swallow this AMC adaptation as some kind of gospel?

I see movie!QOTD as a buffet of ideas carried in an official fanfiction work, and I don’t accept as my headcanon the various things it changed about the books that I didn’t particularly like, such as merging Magnus and Marius (which, IMO, effectively made both characters more morally reprehensible). I accepted the things I did enjoy, like casting a Black/POC actress to play Akasha. I see this AMC adaptation as a buffet of ideas, some can be taken, and some not, it’s just another official fanfiction work.

[Anon, I need to catch other ppl up on the information, too.]

Deadline.com informs us that in the AMC adaptation for Interview with the Vampire, Jacob Anderson has been cast as Louis. I'm not familiar with him, but it looks like he’s a successful actor, from Game of Thrones and other things, he’s also joining Series 13 of Doctor Who. I’ll have to check him out from an acting standpoint!

Aside from his talent as an actor, this is by far the most controversial thing that's happened in VC fandom recently. I've been thinking about this for a few months now, talking about it privately online and offline, still gathering my thoughts. So this post is not engraved in stone, it’s initial thoughts on this.

I’m glad to see ppl talking about it and I’m sure we’ll have more public discussions. I’m trying to discuss it very carefully, but also, this is an entertainment blog, my opinions are mine alone, and I’m not looking for dogpiling on anyone, I have no obligation to respond publicly or privately to anything. Plenty of other ppl have differing opinions on this. So take all of the following with more than a grain of salt, I’m not being salty, I’m providing the links to the little info we’ve seen pulicly, I’m giving my initial thoughts, and I’m also trying to add a little levity because ultimately, again, this is an entertainment blog, and I try to add a little humor to help with such serious topics, humor can help ppl talk about controversial things.

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The casting of a POC/Black actor (I’m sorry I don't know the preferred terminology, let me know if you know what Anderson prefers) confirms at least one part of theilluminerdi articles that stated that Louis’ race will be different from the books. I didn’t post about these before bc I wasn’t sure how reliable theilluminerdi’s sources are (and I'm still not sure), but this was one major aspect that theilluminerdi announced before Deadline did, so now seems to be the right time to share those articles. For now, you can go check them out yourselves rather than have my reposting of the information, trigger warning: mentions of sex workers and race in the changes to the canon story of Interview with the Vampire.

>>>theilluminerdi articles from May 21, 2021 and July 15, 2021:

www.theilluminerdi.com/2021/05/21/interview-with-the-vampire-amc

www.theilluminerdi.com/2021/07/15/interview-with-the-vampire-amc-2

^Meme of Dr. Ian Malcom from Jurassic Park reads: “Your writers were so preoccupied with whether they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should.”

I’m using that meme with a little levity here, clearly an AMC adaptation of vampires in which the producers/writers have chosen to change the race of a main character (arguably the original protagonist of the series) isn’t in the same VICINITY as the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park that broke out of containment and killed visitors to the park, but John Hammond’s intention for the creation of that park was very good, as I assume this race change was intended. Time will tell.

“But with this place, I wanted to show them something that wasn't an illusion. Something that was real, something that they could see and touch. An aim not devoid of merit.”

“Creation is an act of sheer will.” 

- John Hammond, Jurassic Park

Race is a more complicated subject than ever, so for AMC to make this bold change, I hope they have POC and Black writers on staff and are handling this very carefully. Even then, no racial group, including POC and Black people, are a hivemind, disagreements are bound to happen in the writing room, whether in good faith or bad. People have different intentions and motives, compromises will probably be made with the story in many ways, we all know how it goes with collaborations; the end product is a shared vision among multiple creators. This could be a potentially controversial adaptation, I don’t know whether they’re aiming for that or not, but with the elements it has so far, it seems to be headed that way.

Here's a comment by "Angellus" on the 5/21 article. It's undeniable that there's going to be the accusation of racism thrown at anyone who has any negative view of this change, regardless of their reasons. I find it unfair and narrow-minded that any negative response is automatically assumed to be coming from a racist point of view. To say that changing Louis' race is unequivocally an improvement fails to take into account how that change has a Domino effect on all of the other parts of the story. Not the least of which is that, if he is still a slaver/slave holder/plantation owner/(insert your preferred term) that adds a whole new racist element to his owning Black/POC people, even though, apparently there were Black/POC plantation owners. 

Not the least of which: How will this change impact his relationship with Lestat? Particularly when Lestat has the added issue of being described in those articles as having “mind control abilities” and “insistent that he gets what he wants and when facing rejection,” a terrible combination in terms of consent, even in a relationship of the same race, let alone invoking Caucasian/white dominance over Black/POC people, AND Lestat being the catalyst to Louis’ questioning his sexuality:

Lestat is insistent that he gets what he wants and when facing rejection, petulance can quickly turn to ruthless rage which causes frenzied acts of horrifically brutal violence. Lestat also has mind control abilities. Lestat initially infuriates Louis, but this soon turns to fascination which leads Louis to question his religion and sexuality. 

^Screencap reads: "I love how racist everyone is in the damn comments, this doesn’t pervert the story you’re all racist and it’s disgusting. I’m looking forward to it, I hope you keep crying your salty racist tears asswipes."

It makes me question whether Angellus truly believes what they wrote, if this is an ideology, or a troll. I would suggest their use of the term “pervert” is correct though, pervert means: “alter (something) from its original course, meaning, or state to a distortion or corruption of what was first intended.” That’s what this race change does, factually. Although, in this context, “distortion or corruption” carries a negative connotation. It would take a lot to show how this change does not meet the definition or “to pervert,” though.

I hope the rumours of Louis being a brothel owner aren't true

I agree 1,000%, I was hoping that these were just rumors. But, aside from the race change, if this were the only change, I find Louis being a brothel owner to be equivalently morally reprehensible to being a slaver/slave holder/plantation owner/(insert your preferred term). Ideally, they’d change his career to something that doesn’t involve benefiting from the bodies/labor of others in any morally reprehensible manner.

I mean, with a black Louis they can't have him being a slaver anymore, so maybe they're trying to find something that is also morally reprehensible for him to be.

He might still be a slaver. Who knows. Being morally reprehensible as a mortal man didn’t seem to me to be crucial to the story, but they still could have chosen something better. It seems to me like they want a brothel so they can have eye candy for an audience who want to see sex workers, maybe full frontal nudity. 

-----

What also gets my attention is that Anne and Christopher Rice have not yet posted publicly about it, which leads me to believe that this change wasn’t their choice. They take every chance to brag when they’re proud of something, every chance to crowdsource about casting ideas or which VC books Anne’s fans liked best, etc., and in this case, as of Aug. 31, 2021, (and to be fair, maybe I missed it), I haven’t seen either of them post about this on the official VC FB, Anne Rice’s FB, Annerice.com, Christopher Rice’s FB, or christopherricebooks.com. If it had been their choice, I think they would have gladly trumpeted their credit by now, but maybe they’re waiting to do it in a specific venue. Time will tell.

[bisamwilson]

I have two bc I really love your fics (I hope that's okay) religion (u can lay your hands on me) - 3

(it's your kiss) hey princess - 5

of course two is okay!!!! the more the merrier :) and thanks so much for reading my fics omg <3

(questions from this ask)

fun fact every time i reblog these i'm excited to get questions and then i remember i have never remembered anything i've written ever so i just skimmed through a quick reread of religion lmao askjdhfkad

3. What’s your favorite line of narration? (religion)

i feel like this is a cop out but i'm very partial to some of the opening narration bc bucky pining is my jam. like i wrote this in the fic and i was like damn should i keep going? i’m three sentences in and i’ve already peaked lmaooo

He’s still not entirely sure how he got to this point in the first place, straddling Sam’s back and roaming his hands over his skin, but as he digs his thumbs into Sam’s shoulders and runs them down his bare back until he finds the pressure point on his spine, he can’t decide if this is a gift to be treasured or the world’s cruelest punishment.

Whatever he’s done in his life, both as hero and assassin, he doesn’t think he deserves it.

on a less serious note, my favorite thing i’ve ever put in a fic ever is also in religion, which is, of course

God, Bucky really does love arm.

5. What part was hardest to write? (hey princess)

does “the outline” count as an answer to this? bc for real, the hardest part of hey princess was trying to write an au that wasn’t just the movie in its entirety with sam and bucky instead of mia and nicholas. i think i did a decent job????? idk i’m very proud of that fic but i do still worry it was Too Similar,,,

because of this, i had a lot of issues with chapters 3 and 4 in particular, as that’s when i really was like “fuck i’ve written a ton of words and this needs to be more distinct” and also that was when i switched from the arranged marriage partner being maria rambeau to ayo and making sarahayo happen, so those two chapters in particular took significantly longer than the rest of the fic to write. i think i’d really found my rhythm and my way by the end of chapter four though, and i wrote the rest of the fic in like less than a month! 

but yeah hopefully those first four chapters aren’t too clumsy lmao. people seemed to like them tho, so i think it turned out alright!

thanks for the ask, again <3