#god is actually p chill in religion

[such-a-daydreamer]

This is such a stupid AU idea but I love it.

I'm calling it the "Chill Bill" AU and it's exactly what it says on the tin.

If you're curious, check it out under the cut :p

There's comics at the bottom if you don't feel like reading

So basically, Bill in this AU isn't AS cynical as cannon Bill. Like sure, he still destroyed his home dimension, but he's not going around turning people inside out for fun.

In this AU, Bill convinced people that he was a god, starting a whole new religion and everything. Bill then goes on to NOT do anything that would get people to think he's evil (cuz he ain't) so the people find no reason to turn against him.

Humanity comes together and advances tech faster than normal to create Bill's portal. He comes to earth around the 1940s, and DOES NOT turn evrerything into chaos. He's actually the reason the second world war came to an end, but is partially also the reason there were world wars at all.

Bill has his usual personality, nothing about that changed, it's just his actions that do. Humanity built a lot of things in his honour, and Bill is EATING IT UP. Like, yeah, ngl he's got a god complex with humanity, but he still cares for them.

Bill is usually in the general assembly (or an equivanlent) most likely sitting on a big ass throne sorting through human problems. After like, seven decades dealing with human bs he's getting a little tired of it. But he does genuinely help out

Bill does like,, dissapear to go visit other dimensions and stuff when he gets sick of earth, but he always returns. Humans celebrate when he does. Unless Bill has given direct permission, no one is allowed to enter the portal. So far, no human has seen the other side.

Sometimes he even brings other interdimensional beings through the portal to show off how much humanity loves him. On rare occasions, these visitors try to take advantage and wreak a lil havock, and Bill plays the hero to save them.

Anywayyy here's some comics

Ford and Stan adventuring through Alternate Universes and ending up in Chill Bill's one

Bill's first encounter with Stan and Ford

Bill gets obsessed with trying to get Stan and Ford to like him and prove that "not all Bills are bad" but lowkey makes it worse

Second post

Third post

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VIII.

GIF CREDIT

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Exploring the complexities of their relationship, revealing past traumas and personal struggles that deepen their connection.

WORD COUNT: ~10k

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: masturbation (m), gun mention/use, substance use (weed and alcohol), mention of suicide, mention of religion, mutual pining, 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: oh boy… everyone grab a snack and get cozy because we're getting into the thick of it! a lot of character exposition this chap but i promise it's fun :p also couldn't help myself from making javi and helena a thing (?) 🙈 it just felt right™ lol anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Javier leans forward, allowing his forehead to gently meet the chill of the shower tiles. Steam envelops the entire bathroom, swirling around him as the warmth of the cascading water embraces his skin.

Every fiber of his being screams against the temptation, but it’s too overwhelming to resist. His mind has been hijacked by lascivious musings since his first flicker of consciousness, and it only intensified with each passing second. The rational part of him had urged for a cold shower to extinguish the smoldering fire, but the primal instinct within demanded something more.

His cock has been throbbing with want since the moment he woke, the crimson head moistened with a droplet of precum. A deep moan escaped his lips as he reached down to ease the tension, but just as he began to feel a rush of pleasure, thoughts of her invaded his mind.

Her laughter a symphony of sensuality.

The warmth in her eyes like a glowing ember, making him feel hot with a desire he’s never experienced before.

The curve of her ass a work of art, a masterpiece that he longed to caress and gently bite down on as he worshipped her body.

And those magnificent tits of hers, god how they had looked that night at the fair, teasing and tempting him with their lusciousness in her corset.

The way she wore low-rise jeans, clinging to her hips like a second skin, had him yearning to leave bruising marks with the press of his fingertips; preferably as he took her from behind, her ass bouncing against his thighs while his dick pistoned into her.

He had halted immediately, his hand retracting swiftly from beneath the sheet as if scalded by its touch. Muttering curses under his breath, he rose with a sense of urgency, the need to cleanse both body and mind propelling him towards the shower to prepare for the day ahead.

Now he’s here, doing his worst to keep the fantasies away. Javier imagines her joining him in the shower, he can almost feel her wet body pressed against his. He envisions her sinking to her knees, wrapping those pouty pink lips around him and taking him deep into her mouth. Feeling her tight throat clenching around him as she gags and struggles to breathe, eagerly swallowing every drop of his release. The temptation is too much to bear, and he surrenders to the sensual daydream.

Fuck, in a slow and deliberate movement, Javier’s hand glides down the contours of his chiseled chest, trailing his soft abdomen until it reaches its ultimate destination. Wrapping his hand around his impressive girth, he begins to stroke himself with a gentle, yet purposeful motion. But no matter how hard he tries to push her from his mind, the thought of Paloma lingers, taunting him. He desperately tries to conjure up memories of past lovers, but none of them compare to the fiery passion that she ignites within him.

She would look so pretty pinned up against the wall, resembling a riveting piece of artwork, as he stuffed his cock deep into her. He wonders whether she could handle him all at once or if he would have to indulge in the slow pleasure of opening her up with his skilled tongue and fingers, coaxing her into a frenzy of orgasmic bliss.

She must taste heavenly, like nectar from a honeysuckle on a warm spring day. Javier’s mouth waters at the thought of exploring her so intimately, getting lost in the sensation of her warm and feeling her wetness smearing all over his lips and jaw. He could almost hear her sweet moans of pleasure as he licked and sucked on her most sensitive spots, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy.

He’d do it over and over again until she was whining that it was too much and she couldn’t take it anymore.

But she would, he’d make sure of it. He’d be determined to make her succumb to his every desire. Javier would talk her through the waves of pleasure, whispering the filthiest things in her ear and savoring the sound of her dulcet whimpers and melodic moans as she unraveled under his skilled touch.

He knows she’d make the prettiest faces, her swollen lips parting and repeating his name over and over, eyes shut close in which he’d tell her to open those pretty eyes of hers so she could watch him get her off for the umpteen time. He wouldn’t fuck her with his dick, not until he’s made it clear how generous of a lover he is.

He tenses briefly, heavy cock still in his hand as his pace moves from languish movements to quicker flicks of his wrist.

He’s so close, the familiar spark of arousal causing him to shudder as his balls clench with anticipation; images of Paloma, stripped naked and spread out before him in a myriad of sensual scenarios and positions flood his mind, driving him to groan with unbridled passion. His orgasm racks through him harshly, his release coating his fingers in a sticky sheen before vanishing down the drain.

Javier pauses to regain his composure and gather his breath. His forehead remains firmly planted against the tile, and he can’t resist lightly tapping against it as he chastises himself for giving in to the temptation of masturbating to her.

Certainly it’s not uncharted territory for him, yet following the surge of tension between them, he had ceased such indulgences altogether. He hadn’t even had the urge to pleasure himself in weeks.

Today, for some reason, was an exception; marked by the persistent stiffness of morning arousal. His thoughts were fixated on her and his willpower was unwavering.

Javier finishes his shower, emerging from the mist and he envelops his lower-half in a towel. With toothbrush in hand, he diligently tends to brushing his teeth when there’s an unexpected rap at the door. His brows furrow in mild annoyance, curious as to who was seeking him out on his only day off this week.

He lets the towel fall to the ground in his bedroom and he grabs his jeans, sliding them up his legs and foregoing any underwear. In true Javi style. He zips them up yet the button remains unfastened, a deliberate omission.

As he lazily holds his toothbrush in his mouth, he strides towards the front door. It yields to his touch, his initial annoyance gives way to a self-assured smirk, his expression a subtle blend of amusement and satisfaction.

On the weathered porch of his modest trailer, Javier is greeted by Paloma, looking gorgeous as always in a enticing sundress that’s short enough to expose her beautiful long legs. Her hair, styled in a playful half-up, half-down look, frames her face like a delicate masterpiece. 

She had hesitated, contemplating turning back when the silence lingered, a creeping doubt whispering that she might have the wrong address. Yet, just as uncertainty began to sway her resolve, Javier emerged, clad in nothing but snug denim, confirming she had indeed arrived precisely where she needed to be.

She couldn’t give a damn if he spotted her ogling him, he had opened the door flaunting his half-nakedness so shamelessly. He’s obviously just stepped out of the shower, his locks damp and tousled in all the right places, droplets of water cascading down his glistening, honeyed torso. It is the first time she’s seen him in such a bare state.

Her intuition had been spot on— he is a chiseled, sculpted hunk of a man.

Seeing him in the flesh is making her legs tremble with desire and causing a delightful dampness to form between her thighs.

Only when her gaze traces the tantalizing tuft of hair that begins at his belly and vanishes beneath the fabric of his jeans, does she feel the heat rising within her. The bulge of his cock is unmistakable, and she can’t help but gulp audibly as she takes in the impressive girth straining against his left thigh.

Her mouth waters, literally.

“Nena, ¿qué haces aquí? (Baby what are you doing here?)” His voice oozes with smugness, relishing the familiar thrill of eliciting such reactions from women. Yet to provoke such a response from her, in particular, sends his ego soaring to new heights.

“The library is having a bake sale…” She starts, eyes still fixated on his crotch before it snaps up to meet his lustful stare. “I��m goin’ door to door sellin’ my cookies to help out.” Which is true, yet when she had seen his home address on the list of places to visit— obviously she’d made sure to stop by here first.

“Is that so?” He muses, just now realizing that she’s got a small container in her hand, “Do you want to come in?”

The question hangs between them, both insatiably horny yet dead set on not crossing the sexual threshold of their friendship.

“Sure.”

With a gentlemanly gesture, he moves aside, granting her entrance. She mutters a soft thank you, gripping onto the container in her hand to keep herself together.

The aroma of his body wash, infused with hints of mint from the fresh toothpaste, envelops her senses; a potent concoction that she finds herself inexplicably drawn to.

While she’s always appreciated the fragrance of a good cologne, the impact of Javier’s scent surpasses any previous encounter, leaving her captivated in a way she’s never experienced before.

“Gonna finish gettin’ ready. Be right back.” He tells her plainly, walking off into his room and this allows her to have a second to breathe, steadying herself on the back of his couch as she gives herself a little pep talk before she hears him coming in again.

“ Santa María por favor dame the strength not to fu— sleep this man.” She whispers in a sacrilegious prayer, straightening her posture when he re-emerges.

“So… you baked?”

Javi’s sporting an old DEA t-shirt, the lettering a bit faded due to time along with those cursed tight jeans. He looks so hot, she begins to wonder if not fucking him is even worth it at all.

It is worth it. You have a date coming up with a guy your age and getting involved with Javier will just bring you more problems than peace. Plus, you like being his friend. Sleeping with him will only fuck that up. Her conscience reminds her, following after him as he leads her deeper into the small home.

“Mhm, stayed up all night putting blood, sweat and tears into these. There’s a point in between batches where I blacked out and fell asleep at the counter so I don’t claim the ones that are slightly burnt. I didn’t have the heart to toss ‘em.”

“Not only are these made out of blood, sweat and tears— but they’re burnt too. Huh...”

Now in his kitchen, the confined space amplifies their proximity. She perches on a stool beside the compact counter, her gaze fixed on him as he unlids the container.

His eyes flicker between her and the tempting contents of her baked goods. “Some bake sale you’re putting on.”

His teasing has her playfully rolling her eyes, “Not all of them. Just some of the oatmeal raisin ones.”

“Good riddance.”

“I think you purposefully hate on all the snacks I enjoy.”

“No, querida, you just have shitty taste in snacks.” Javi remarks, tempted to include a jab about her taste in men as well, yet opting to withhold that comment. For now.

“And you have shitty taste in decorations. Jeez, cowboy, are you even a real person?” She quips, critiquing the lack of character in his living space. It resembles a generic model home, seemingly plucked from a showcase and deposited in the midst of nowhere.

“Sometimes I ask myself that same question.” He shrugs, reaching for one of the more inviting looking desserts but she slaps at his hand.

“You have to pay for them first.”

“How much for the whole damn thing?” Leaning in on his elbows, he meets her halfway, their gazes locked in a silent exchange, each peering into the depths of the other’s brown eyes.

With a subtle narrowing of her own gaze, she communicates a silent message, her expression betraying a hint of playful challenge.

She gives him the price, he nods.

“Let me go get my wallet.” As he turns away and strides into the living room, her gaze remains fixed on him, engrossed by the way his shirt hugs his muscular frame and accentuates every ripple of his back. She can’t help but feel a flutter in her chest as she watches him go.

She lets out a dreamy sigh, feeling as if she’s fawning over a celebrity heartthrob.

Paloma looks around the plain space, a little disappointed that she won’t be able to decipher his character based on the decor he had.

When he returns, she can’t help but ask why it’s so empty. 

“‘Cause I don’t plan on bein’ here long enough to call this place home.” Javier responds, his words carrying a straightforward, pragmatic tone. Yet, despite their simplicity, they strike her with unexpected force, shattering the illusion she has harbored.

Why did she assume he would just… stay? Surely after helping her father out as much as he could, he’d be packing up and moving on to his next assignment.

The weight of reality tightens its grip around her heart, yet she maintains a composed facade, her outward demeanor a mask of serenity as she nods in understanding.

“Right, right. Makes sense… how long do you plan on stickin’ around?” She attempts to pose her question with an air of nonchalance, though beneath the facade, a creeping sense of dread begins to take hold as she awaits his response.

He doesn’t offer it immediately, sensing the subtle change in her demeanor, prompting him to pause and consider his words carefully. “Not sure, hermosa.” It remains simple and nebulous, as he too finds himself uncertain of the answer to that very question.

In an attempt to change the subject, he slides the money over to her, “Now can I have one?”

She exhales slowly, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, offering him a tentative smile, “Knock yourself out.”

She takes the bills from him while he casually selects one of the cookies, indulging in a bite and emitting a contented hum of approval at the flavor. “ Not bad, “ He remarks succinctly, and she can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at his underwhelming critique.

“Really? That’s all I get? ‘Not bad’? I stayed up all night making these— I think I deserve more than just ‘Not bad’.”

A chuckle escapes him at her reaction, finding her response utterly adorable. With a playful twinkle in his eye, he takes another deliberate bite of the cookie, adopting a thoughtful expression as if pondering its flavor with exaggerated seriousness. “The flavor profile is so… decadent. The richness of the chocolate is just superb—”

“Okay, well, if you’re going to be an asshole about it then never mind.” She crosses her arms against her chest with mock indignation, though a playful glint dances in her eyes; amused by their banter.

He shakes his head at her, finishing off the treat with a satisfied smirk.

“It was very delicious, muñeca. Is there anything you’re not good at?” Javier asks, genuine admiration coloring his words since she seems to excel at any task that’s presented to her.

With a snort, she retorts, “Yeah, how much time do you have?” Her mind swirls with a litany of frustrations—her failed attempts at nurturing a fucking vegetable garden, the relentless battle to suppress her feelings for him, her inability to stand up to her father.

The list goes on and on, but she keeps her struggles to herself. The version of herself that lives in Javier’s mind, the one that’s perfect and can do no wrong, one she’d like to preserve as long as possible. Especially since he wasn’t planning on residing in Seminary long-term.

Javier chuckles in response, letting his gaze soften, “You’re too tough on yourself, Paloma. You should give yourself more credit.” She can’t help but feel a hint of bashfulness creeping over her as he says this, twirling a tendril of her hair around her manicured fingertip absentmindedly, her gaze fixed on Javier with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Their playful conversation weaves through the air like a melody, punctuated by laughter and laced with a subtle undercurrent of flirtation, creating an atmosphere that feels as light and comforting as a summer breeze.

“Ever held a gun before?” He asks, noticing how her gaze had trailed over to where his pistol and badge sat on the opposite side of the counter. 

Paloma’s eyes had only lingered on the objects because she remembered how sexy he’d looked last Sunday while apprehending Mr. Thorton.

She has to keep herself from squeezing her thighs together to release some of the pressure of her arousal as she recalls it. Her lack of underwear having some of her wetness smear against her inner thighs.

At his question, though, a very mischievous idea suddenly pops into her head.

“Nope. Daddy has always been paranoid about all that.” It’s a lie that slips effortlessly from her lips, despite the fact that her father had been very serious about gun safety and had taught her how to shoot at a young age. In fact, she’s quite capable of disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling a weapon with precision.

But Javier doesn’t need to know this. Not yet, at least.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t offer to teach you a thing or two.”

Paloma snorts, “Oh c’mon. I’m a grown woman livin’ in an open carry state. I should learn how to use one… all things considered too…” She alludes to the homicide cases and the current missing girl.

Javier wets his lower lip, contemplating his next move. She makes a good point, it wouldn’t hurt for her to know her way around the weapon and he’s surprised that her father hasn’t at least given her a few pointers with how paranoid he is that something is going to happen to her. 

Still, he doesn’t want to overstep the elder man… but really, he’s already overstepped when he came all over his hand earlier while thinking of fucking the sherrif’s daughter.

She’s also proactively requesting for him to teach her, showing her own determination and initiative in the matter.

“Fine. I’ll meet you in the backyard.” He acquiesces, pushing himself away from the counter. He snags one more cookie from the container before disappearing down the hallway.

Her eyes sparkle with excitement as his agreement sinks in, eager to see his reaction when she unveils her little secret to him. She springs off the stool, sliding open the glass door leading to the backyard. Shielding her face from the intense sunlight, she steps outside, ready to embark on this unexpected activity with Javier.

From the back porch, Paloma observes him as he arranges an assortment of targets, using miscellaneous items he had gathered from around his home: empty beer bottles, a vase that had long irked him with its presence, and other odds and ends.

Once he finishes, they stand side by side, facing the trunk of his police cruiser, which he had pulled around to park in the backyard. The trunk is open, revealing the duffle bag of firearms issued to every officer. Javier gestures for Paloma to make her selection, his expression a mixture of anticipation and encouragement.

“Hm,” Paloma muses, tapping her chin as if in deep contemplation before pointing to the double-barrel shotgun.

Javier is slightly taken aback by her choice, but he swiftly retrieves the shotgun from the bag, along with a handful of shells. “ This one’s pretty heavy. Sure you can handle it, palomita?” he asks, a condescending tone lacing his words.

“Trust me, I can handle it.” she responds confidently, her tone carrying a subtle salacious edge. With a sweet smile directed at Javier, she turns and strides confidently towards the shooting area he had prepared.

He stills, muttering how fucked he is before following after her.

“The kickback is stronger with these. You’ll need to get used to the weight and recoil.”

His movements with the gun are graceful and assured. Her breath hitches as she watches in awe, her lips parting slightly as she bites down on the plump flesh, trying to contain the moan that threatens to escape.

Javier’s hands look massive as they wrap around the gun, and she can’t help but imagine those same hands wrapped around her body, exploring every inch with the same precision and mastery. The way he breaks the shotgun open and loads the shells, his fingers flexing and tensing with each movement has heat rising within her, aching for his touch. 

It’s not just the scorching southern temperature that has her feeling hot all over, but the raw, primal desire that he ignites within her with just a simple gesture.

He possesses an effortless confidence that Paloma finds undeniably alluring. As he adjusts his aviator sunglasses and gestures towards the items scattered across the horizon, his gravelly voice resonates with authority and charm.

“Take a deep breath in, then slowly exhale. Point at the target, squeeze the trigger and shoot. Remember, the kickback can be pretty intense so brace yourself for that.”

He looks so handsome following his own instructions, easily shooting down that hideous vase and a beer bottle, causing them to shatter in pieces. The shots echoes out into the vast area, a few birds flying by.

Javier looks over at her, reloading the shotgun before handing it to her carefully, the safety switched on. “Your turn, nena.”

Paloma, with her piercing gaze and a mischievous smile playing on her lips, feigns innocence as she takes the gun from him. Though she is well-versed in handling firearms, she willingly allows Javier to guide her, relishing the opportunity to draw closer to him under the guise of naivety.

She purposefully handles it oddly which has him pressing flush against her back as he guides her hands into the right position. It takes everything in her not to lean back against him, the breeze that passes by paired with his proximity sends a shiver down her spine, the scent of gunpowder mingling with his rugged masculinity and cologne has her damn near whimpering; but she’s able to suppress the noise before it slips up her throat.

“Remember: Aim, squeeze and shoot.” He nudges her leg apart slightly with his knee, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering wildly at the gesture, “And keep yourself grounded. You’re not stupid, so handle this thing carefully. Don’t want you blowing off half of that pretty face.” 

He takes a few steps back, partially to watch her shoot but also because he felt his cock hardening when he pressed himself against her. Feeling the softness of her ass against his crotch was derailing, and it didn’t help that the flimsy fabric of her sundress is thin so he could feel that she wasn’t wearing any fucking panties. He digs into his back pocket to retrieve his pack of smokes, in desperate need of one.

Under Javier’s watchful eye, Paloma raises the shotgun, feeling the weight of it in her hands as she aims at the first target. She switches the safety off, following his instructions (ones she was already aware of) and she keeps the act up, studying the items before her.

After a few moments of doing nothing, Javier speaks up.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to shoot?”

His words spur her into action, a determined glint in her eyes as she readies herself to take aim at the remaining bottles.

But just as she is about to pull the trigger, a sudden flurry of birds burst into the sky, their wings slicing through the air with graceful precision. A smirk dances upon her lips as she swiftly adjusts her stance, the shotgun now pointed skyward with a fluid motion that bespoke her expertise.

In a seamless display of skill and confidence, she tracks the path of the birds with unwavering focus, her finger poised on the trigger. With a steady breath, she squeezes it, unleashing a resounding crack then another that echo across the open expanse. Two birds plummet from the sky in a graceful arc, their feathers ruffling in the wind as they spiraled towards the earth.

Javier watches in awe, unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips, his admiration for her prowess evident in the curve of his growing smile. In that moment, he can’t help but feel a newfound sense of admiration for her.

She wasn’t eager to learn; she was already a master of the fucking craft.

And as she lowers the shotgun, her eyes sparkling with triumph, Javier knows that he has found a kindred spirit in this enamoring woman named Paloma.

He realizes he’s been played a fool, yet his amusement outweighs any sense of annoyance. There is something oddly endearing about the way she had outsmarted him, a playful gleam in her eye that he can’t help but admire.

Her laughter rings out like music in the warm morning air.

“Beginner’s luck, huh?” He says as she beams back at him, pride evident in every line of her expression.

“Daddy’s been on the force since before I was born.”  She explains, her voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. “‘Course he taught me, his only child, how to shoot.” Turning to face him fully, she deftly flicks the safety on the firearm before extending it back to him with practiced ease.

“And we used to go duck huntin’ all the time,” She continues, her words carrying the weight of memories shared with her father. “S’how I got good at shootin’ moving targets. You ever been?” Her question hangs in the air, accompanied by a curious tilt of her head.

Javier feels a sense of déjà vu wash over him at her words, a fleeting flashback to that day outside La Catedral with Steve playing out in his mind vividly.

No I have not been duck hunting…. You… fucking hillbilly.

He won’t call her that, though.

“Nope, never been.”

“We should go one day. Y’know, if you stick around long enough.”

Javier senses that their earlier conversation about his impending departure from town did not sit well with her. A small, narcissistic part of him takes pleasure in the knowledge that she will miss him when he eventually leaves.

Their flirtatious banter fills the air like the crack of gunfire, each moment building upon the next as they continue to spend the rest of the morning in each other’s company— shooting at empty beer bottles to pass the time. With each shot fired and each shared smile, the connection between Javier and Paloma deepens, their playful teasing masking a burgeoning attraction that neither could deny. 

As the sun reaches its high point, harshly casting its rays across the landscape, they find themselves lost in each other, the shotgun forgotten as they head inside to escape the merciless Seminary summer heat.

“Why do you keep your gun against your lower back?” Paloma asks, sitting on top of the kitchen counter as Javier pours both of them a glass of water.

“Outta habit. Feels more comfortable and secure back there.” He hands her the glass and she thanks him softly, taking a large gulp.

He finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from her, his own glass in his hand as he observes her. She tilts her head back ever so slightly, the sun-kissed sheen of sweat adding a ravishing glow to her skin after spending all morning outside.

As Javier’s gaze falls upon Paloma’s exposed forearms, his heart sinks at the sight of the bruises marring her delicate skin. The memory of the chaotic scene at the church floods back—the ramblings of Mr. Thorton, consumed by grief and intoxicated by sorrow, as he roughly seized Paloma in his anguish. The bruises now serve as a reminder of that harrowing encounter, igniting a protectiveness within Javier.

“I didn’t know he grabbed onto you so harshly.” While Javi is sympathetic towards the drunken man considering the unfortunate circumstances— he shouldn’t have put his hands on her the way that he did.

Paloma’s fingers drift absently towards the bruised area, her movements gentle as she brushes over it, her shoulders lifting in a subtle shrug. “It’s nothin’ compared to what they’re going through,” She murmurs softly, her voice trailing off with a tinge of melancholy. The memory of the man’s shattered demeanor weighs on her, reminding her of the profound sadness that had consumed him that day.

Despite the drunken ramblings, the accusatory tone, and the way he laid blame on the entire town for failing his daughter; she didn’t harbor any resentment towards him for his outburst.

While she acknowledges that aggressively approaching her was not the wisest choice, she understands that it was a momentary lapse fueled by grief and alcohol.

Her father had sternly lectured her when she revealed her lack of animosity towards Mr. Thorton and her willingness to forgive him despite his lack of apology. Romeo had been infuriated by his daughter’s empathy, unable to comprehend her capacity for forgiveness in the face of such an incident.

“Still, he was out of line for even—”

“He was drunk out of his mind, Javier. His daughter was brutally murdered and mutilated. Do you all just expect him and his wife to snap back to normal after a few weeks?” Paloma’s words carry an edge, her tone unintentionally sharp, but Javier can see the underlying pain in her eyes.

His own demeanor relaxes slightly, reeling as he realizes she’s not aiming her frustration at him specifically. His gaze reflects understanding rather than irritation as he silently reassures her that he had no intention of pissing her off.

“A death like that breaks families. It’s happening to the Thortons right before our very eyes.” She reflects after a pause, briefly considering the idea of confiding in Javier about her own experiences with loss, particularly concerning her mother.

She recalls the turbulent times following her mother’s death, the strain it placed on her relationship with her father, and the wounds it left in their family dynamic.

Fortunately, Romeo had managed to pull himself (somewhat) together before things escalated too far between them.

However, discussing her mother remains a sensitive topic, one that Paloma avoids whenever possible. Her suicide was a painful and perplexing event, leaving Paloma grappling with unanswered questions and a sense of profound loss.

As a confused and grief-stricken teenager, she had immersed herself in psychology texts, searching for understanding and consolation on the topic of depression and suicide, but finding nothing that truly resonated with her mother’s peculiar situation. 

She blinks, dispelling her thoughts, realizing she has no intention of burdening Javier—or anyone else, for that matter—with her baggage. The memory of her last attempt to confide in someone, the priest at church, surfaces, and she suppresses a sigh of frustration. His well-meaning yet ultimately dismissive response, a canned platitude about finding solace in God, had left her feeling even more isolated in her grief.

It honestly pissed her off.

“That’s just how it is sometimes, querida. A shitty fucking side effect to the whole thing. We can’t do anything about it.”

There’s a depth to her that she keeps carefully hidden, yet Javier can discern it with ease. It manifests in the subtle shifts of her body language, the fleeting emptiness that briefly clouds her gaze, and the sudden defensiveness she displayed when discussing the situation.

Despite her attempts to conceal it, her words are laced with emotion, carrying a weight of sentiment and understanding that hints at the complexities that lurk.

There’s a story hidden behind that guarded stare, waiting to be unveiled.

He won’t grant himself the selfish desire to be the one to unveil it. He doesn’t feel worthy of being the person Paloma entrusts with her deepest vulnerabilities, believing he doesn’t deserve such intimacy from her.

Javier’s pragmatic nature is deeply ingrained, a fundamental aspect of his character that permeates every aspect of his life. It’s a quality that serves him well in his profession, enabling him to approach his duties with efficiency and precision.

Yet, this same pragmatism often proves to be a barrier when it comes to offering comfort to others. He struggles to connect on an emotional level, his rational mind grappling with the intricacy of human emotions in a way that feels foreign to him.

While he excels in navigating practicalities, he finds himself struggling when faced with the nuances of empathy and compassion.

It’s not that Javier is devoid of either emotions; rather, he has a hard time navigating them. He possesses a depth of feeling, but lacks the finesse in managing and expressing them.

A contemplative silence settles between them, each absorbed in their own internal musings.

She feels his stare but she doesn’t waver, instead changing the subject,“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jonah Abbott’s birthday party?” 

Ah, Jonah Abbott, the remarkably young Mayor of Seminary, Texas. Descending from a lineage steeped in politics and law, his ascension to office undoubtedly owes much to familial connections and the influence of nepotism.

Javier’s disdain for him is palpable, despite only encountering the man once. Jonah had stormed into the station, insisting that everyone attend his birthday celebration. His subsequent demand for case updates and entitled behavior when things didn’t align with his expectations had left a sour taste in Javier’s mouth, solidifying his opinion of him as nothing more than an insufferable individual.

Javi had intended to skip out on the party altogether, but after Romeo practically demanded his presence there, he quickly realized that dodging the event was simply not an option.

“Unfortunately I have,” He says sardonically, finishing off his water, “Though I’d rather be anywhere else. Big parties have never been my thing, especially when the night is centered on schmoozing with asshole politicians.”

“Asshole politicians….” She smirks at him, “So you’ve met him? He’s… a piece of work. I have no idea why or how daddy tolerates him.”

Paloma doesn’t mention the many advances the man has made on her and how she’s had to politely decline him each time. He wasn’t unattractive, he held some kind of Kennedy-esque handsomeness but man was he ignorant and flashy as all hell.

His opulent mansion and foreign cars speak volumes about his personal wealth, yet she can’t help but wish he would invest as much in supporting his town as he does in his own pursuits. 

“I’ve had to deal with men like that too many times over the years. Just when you think they can’t get any worse— they do. It’s like they outdo themselves. Fuckin’ annoying pricks. They only get worse with age, too.” 

Javier’s verbal outpouring inadvertently provides Paloma with an opportunity—a chance to delve deeper into his past experiences, particularly his days with the DEA. Sensing an opening, she seizes the moment to probe for insights into his former life, hoping to gain a better understanding of the man behind the badge.

“Who’s the worst one you’ve met?”

The first name that pops into his mind is Bill Stechner. “CIA asshole back in Colombia. But you could really trade in any fucker from either government and it’d all be one in the same. They’re all contenders for worst human beings on the fuckin’ planet.”

Her brows raise in interest, “It still amazes me how you’ve literally worked such an important and uppity job. How the fuck did you end up here, cowboy?” It’s a rhetorical question but it still has him sucking in a breath.

As always, Paloma’s keen observance doesn’t go unnoticed. The spark of curiosity ignites within her, kindling a desire to unravel the layers of Javier’s enigmatic persona. Yet, she exercises caution, mindful not to overstep boundaries or pry too deeply into his guarded past.

She sets down her empty glass, hopping off the counter and smoothing her dress down. “I guess I should get outta your hair and head back into town. I had a lotta fun this mornin’. Thank you for supportin’ the library… and for teachin’ me how to shoot.” She remarks playfully with a wink as he walks her to the door.

“Well, you were a very easy student. A natural.” 

Leaning casually against the door frame, Javier’s gaze remains fixed on Paloma as she retreats backward towards her car. Despite the distance between them, their eyes never waver, locked in a silent exchange of unspoken sentiments.

“I’ll see you around.”

Javier’s gaze drifts idly over the scattered papers before him, the weight of boredom evident in the blank stare he casts upon them.

With a heavy sigh, he resigns himself to the monotony of the graveyard shift, flanked by two younger deputies who share his weary disposition. The quaint confines of the department offer little respite from the tedium, with the only source of distraction being a TV cart positioned at the center of the room, broadcasting an old Astros vs. Mets baseball game.

As the flickering images dance across the screen, Javier’s mind wanders, yearning for something—anything—to break the dullness of the night.

He’d lost interest in the game fairly quickly, turning his focus to the mound of paperwork that has steadily amassed on his desk over the past few days.

However, even the prospect of tackling the administrative tasks failed to hold his interest for long, leaving him adrift in a sea of ennui.

As he rubs at his tired eyes, preparing to rise and seek respite in a smoke break outside, the shrill ring of the phone slices through the quiet of the room. His movements freeze, instinctively drawn to answer the call that interrupts his escape.

“Seminary Sheriff’s Department.”

“Those damn kids are on my property again!”

Javier has to pull the receiver from his ear slightly as the loud yet croaky voice of Arthur Reynolds reverberates through the line.

The elderly man boasts a lineage that traces back to one of the town’s founding families. As a result, he holds vast swathes of land across the area, including a picturesque field of sunflowers that has become a local attraction.

The vibrant blooms draw the attention of passersby, who often linger to admire their beauty. However, Reynolds views their presence as an intrusion, and he isn’t shy about expressing his discontent.

Constantly vigilant, he frequently calls upon the authorities to address the perceived trespassers. Due to his advanced age rendering him incapable of intimidating others into compliance, it falls upon individuals like Javier to enforce Reynolds’ will, ensuring that his domain remains undisturbed.

“Can you be a little more specific, sir.” Javi says in a monotone voice

“How specific I gotta be? S’a group of them drinkin’ and smokin’ around a campfire. Gonna light my goddamn field ablaze. You besta come shut it down and arrest these punks before I go down there myself and cause a ruckus.”

That’s the last thing Javier needs, for the town to burn down on his watch. He begrudgingly acknowledges the validity of the old man’s complaints, recognizing that there is merit to Reynolds’ concerns for once.

“No need for that, an officer will be there soon.” As the phone call concludes, Javier briefly considers dispatching the deputies to handle the situation, viewing it as an opportunity for them to gain some experience.

However, a sense of caution tugs at him, wary of the potential risks involved in sending inexperienced officers into the field late at night. Ultimately, he opts to take matters into his own hands in case anything goes awry.

Donning his department-issued bomber jacket and ensuring his utility belt is fully equipped, Javier swiftly heads for the door. With a sense of purpose, he offers a brief explanation for his departure to the two deputies engrossed in the baseball game before stepping out into the night.

Not much after does Javier find himself navigating the winding dirt path that cuts through the heart of the sunflower field. Towering stalks of golden blooms loom on either side, casting elongated shadows in the dim light of the moon. With a flick of a switch, he illuminates the headlights of the cruiser, their beams slicing through the darkness ahead. The soft glow of a distant bonfire comes into view, beckoning him forward as he makes his way towards the source of the disturbance.

As the piercing lights of the cruiser illuminate the scene, a sense of urgency grips the group of young adults, prompting them to scatter in all directions like startled deer fleeing from a predator.

Amidst the chaos, Paloma lies sprawled on the ground on her back, her gaze fixed upon the expanse of the dark sky overhead, where the full moon casts its radiant glow upon the night.

She’d successfully snuck out of her house and into old man Reynolds’s sunflower field. August assured her they were just eight feet shy of his property line—technically absolving them of any trespassing allegations.

The appeal of an impromptu bonfire, fueled by August’s persuasive phone call the night before, proved irresistible to Paloma. It didn’t take much convincing to coax her into joining the group, the thrill of rebellion emboldening her for the night that lay ahead.

Paloma found herself indulging in more alcohol than she is accustomed to, her inhibitions loosened by the camaraderie of her friends. Peer pressure led her to experiment further, as she hesitantly joined August, Sloane, and Gabriel in sharing a joint. The unfamiliar sensation of the smoke tickled her throat, triggering a fit of coughing that betrayed her novice status in the realm of smoking weed.

“Easy, little dove.” August’s voice was gentle, his hand tracing soothing circles on Paloma’s back as she recovered from her coughing fit. With patience and care, he guided her through the process, demonstrating the proper technique for smoking. His gaze lingered on her lips as she tentatively wrapped them around the filtered tip, his attention a mixture of guidance and something more difficult to discern.

The combined effects of alcohol and weed have her feeling as if she were floating outside of her own body, disconnected from the reality unfolding around her. Time blurred and details became hazy as the evening wore on. Before she knew it, August and a select few had departed, leaving her to her own devices— a directive she barely recalls amidst her altered state.

“We’ll be back later. You just stay put and enjoy yourself.” August’s voice echoed in her mind as she found herself lost in a swirl of sensations. 

The alcohol infused her with a sense of giddiness and warmth, while the weed enveloped her in a cloud of lightness and euphoria.

The mention of cops jolt Paloma out of her intoxicated stupor, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. With a sudden burst of urgency, she propels herself into a seated position, cursing under her breath as she struggles to gain her footing. Every movement feels sluggish and disjointed, as if she were wading through molasses in her attempt to confront whatever impending threat was approaching.

Had her father discovered her absence, realizing she had slipped out into the night and now found herself high as a kite?

Amidst the flurry of activity, someone had hastily extinguished the crackling flames of the bonfire, leaving her disoriented and stumbling in the darkness. With nothing but the ethereal glow of the moonlight to guide her, she found herself left in the eerie stillness of the night as she navigates the shadowy landscape.

Javier steps out of his cruiser, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the darkness as he surveys the deserted scene. The group had scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving him with an empty field and a sinking sense of slight frustration.

With a resigned sigh, he turns to head back to his vehicle, his mind already drifting towards the paperwork awaiting him back at the station.

But then, a faint sound catches his attention— a soft shuffling emanating from the darkness nearby. Instinctively, he whirls around, directing the beam of his flashlight towards the source of the noise.

His eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of Paloma, tentatively emerging from the sea of sunflowers with her hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice cuts through the night, tinged with concern and exasperation as he surveys her unsteady form. His gaze narrows as he takes in her swaying movements, a frown etching across his features. “Are you drunk?”

Her relief is palpable at the sight of Javier standing before her, his presence a welcome reprieve from the uncertainty that had gripped her moments earlier. She offers him a sheepish smile, grateful for his familiar face and not that of one of the jackass deputies.

“Er... just a little,”  She admits with a giggle, her hands lowering slowly as she squints against the harsh beam of his flashlight. “Could you, like, point that thing elsewhere? M’gonna go blind.” Her words are punctuated by a hiccup, her steps unsteady as she inches closer to him.

As she draws near, Javier catches a distinct scent in the air— the familiar aroma of smoke from the bonfire mixed with something altogether less innocent.

It’s a scent he knows all too well from his days as a DEA agent, the unmistakable odor of marijuana lingering on her. With a sinking feeling, he takes in the bloodshot, droopy eyes of the girl before him, irritation welling within him.

“Are you high, too?” He knows all too well the allure of drugs, having spent years chasing down those who peddled them on the streets. Yet, seeing her caught up in such activities strikes a chord within him, stirring up a complex mix of emotions that he struggles to reconcile.

“Maybe,” she drawls the word out, her voice laced with a playful edge. “Why? Are you a narc? Oh, wait... you are. A certified and official narc.” Her words are punctuated by another bout of giggles and hiccups, the sound grating on Javier’s nerves. It’s a familiar insult, one that cuts a little too close to home given August had called him the same thing not too long ago.

“Who were you out here with?” Javier demands, his frustration evident as he flicks off the flashlight, plunging them into darkness save for the soft glow of the moon overhead and the headlights of his car.

“Some friends,” Paloma replies with a careless shrug, her tone nonchalant. “Come on, officer, why does it matter? We were just having fun… and technically we’re eight feet from the property line so we weren’t trespassing.”

Some friends. The implication hangs heavy in the air, a not-so-subtle reminder of her recent association with August and his clique. A storm of conflicting emotions that threatens to cloud his judgment as he struggles to maintain his composure in the face of her nonchalant demeanor.

“Why does it matter?” He scoffs, “Public intoxication. Illicit drug use. Disturbance of the public peace or the peace of others. I can keep going.” His jaw clenches tightly, his words laden with the weight of authority as he lists off a litany of potential charges. Many of them are familiar to him, recurring offenses he’s seen in the files of the company she’s recently decided to keep.

She rolls her eyes dismissively, her confidence undeterred by his stern demeanor. “Oh please. We both know you’re not really going to bring me in for any of that.” she retorts, her voice dripping with of sarcasm and self-assurance.

The idea of Javier restraining her sends a thrill coursing through her veins. The image of his body pressed against hers, the sensation of the cold metal restraints encircling her wrists— it’s all too tantalizing to resist. Yet, even in her intoxicated state, a small voice of reason whispers in the back of her mind, urging her to exercise caution.

A fleeting impulse tugs at her to reach out and touch him, to feel the solid warmth of his chest beneath her fingertips. But a sobering sense of restraint holds her back, the knowledge that such a gesture would only complicate an already precarious situation.

“I’m not entertaining this. Get in the car, I’m taking you home,” He asserts, his tone firm as he turns away from Paloma, intent on ending the conversation then and there. But before he can take a single step, her hand shoots out to grasp at his elbow, her acrylic nails digging into the fabric of his bomber jacket.

“Wait, not I can’t go home yet. Not like this,” Paloma pleads, her voice tinged with desperation as she realizes the gravity of her situation. Though she’s sobered up somewhat since Javier’s arrival, the thought of sneaking back into her house in her current inebriated state fills her with dread.

His gaze flickers down to where she’s holding onto him, his expression unreadable as he weighs his options. “Shoulda thought about that before you came out here and fucked yourself up.”

Feeling a surge of annoyance bubbling up within her, she retracts her grasp, her fists clenching at her sides as she meets Javier’s gaze with steely determination. “Okay, fine. Whatever— I’ll just wait for August to come back and he’ll take me home,” she declares with defiance.

The mention of his name sparks an unexpected surge of possessiveness and jealousy within Javier, if he tightens his jaw any further; he might dislocate it. Though he tries to mask his emotions, the tension in his stance betrays his inner turmoil, leaving her to wonder what thoughts are swirling behind his unreadable facade.

“That’ll be worse for you in the off chance that you get caught. Now get in the car so we can get you some food and sober you up. I’m taking you home.” Javier asserts, his tone brooking no argument as he gestures towards the passenger seat of the still-running police cruiser.

He watches intently as she hesitates for a moment before reluctantly stomping her way around the car and sliding into the seat.

The ride into town is filled with an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of static emanating from the police radio as Javier relays updates to the officers back at the station. She sits with her arms crossed defiantly, her body angled away from him as she stares out of the window, lost in her own high thoughts.

Pulling into the diner parking lot, Javier instructs her to stay put as he exits the vehicle and disappears inside the restaurant. He quickly places an order for a simple meal, then returns with a takeaway bag in hand, his expression unreadable as he hands it to her through the open window.

Now parked at the further end of the driveway, the silhouette of the Leighton family home looms in the distance.

“Thanks for the food..” she murmurs gratefully as they lean against the closed trunk of the police cruiser, the aroma of the meal enticing her high senses as she quite literally begins to devour its contents.

Javier remains silent, allowing the tension from earlier to gradually dissipate as they stand together in the quiet stillness of the night. The only sounds that fill the air are the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Feeling more like herself now, she greedily slurps the remaining contents of her root beer through the straw before setting it aside. She waits for a moment, studying Javier’s side profile before offering an apology.

“I shouldn’t have gotten such an attitude with you back there. You were just doing your job... and if it makes you feel any better, this is the first time I’ve done anything like this.” She confesses, her tone tinged with sincerity.

He runs his knuckles along his jaw, briefly glancing over at her and meeting her gaze. He can’t help but soften at her words, releasing some of the tension that had been coiled within him.

“Just looking out for you. You never know what kind of mess you’ll get into with a crowd like that,” he admits, his tone gentle yet firm. 

“A crowd like that?” She repeats, brows furrowing slightly and feeling a twinge of offense on behalf of August and the others.

“Let’s not be daft, querida. Your friends like trouble— what lost twenty-something-year old doesn’t? I’m not trying to piss you off, I’m just being realistic.”

She just hums in acknowledgement, choosing to focus on the remaining fry in her container to avoid further confrontation.

“You ever been in love, cowboy?” Paloma’s sudden question feels like a punch in the gut, catching him off guard.

He stumbles over his words, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in conversation. “I— sorry, how did we go from that,” he gestures vaguely to their previous discussion, “to this?”

“By changing the subject. I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she replies nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she crumples up her napkin and tosses all her trash into the takeaway bag.

Javier pokes his tongue against his cheek, contemplating her question for a moment before reaching for the cigarettes in the inside pocket of his jacket. What the hell, he’ll indulge her. “Yes... no... I don’t know,” he finally answers, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag.

“All of the above?” She tilts her head, adjusting her denim mini skirt and straightening her cropped camisole.

Javier inhales deeply before continuing. “Before I left for Colombia, I was set to get married.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she leans in closer, eager for more details. “What happened?” she asks, her curiosity palpable as she watches him intently.

The Javier Peña, known for his charismatic ways and romantic escapades, suddenly bound to one woman in the most profound display of commitment. Oh, she’s intrigued beyond measure.

“Couldn’t go through with it. I thought I loved her, Lorraine, but then I realized that I just loved the idea of her. Couldn’t see myself spending the rest of my life at her side so I spared her all the bullshit and drama and just left…” He cringes slightly, flicking off some ash. “Left her at the altar the day of the wedding. Drove straight past the chapel and to the airport. Flew to Quantico for training and a few months later I was in Colombia.”

She listens intently, her heart aching with empathy for the man who stands before her, baring his soul in a rare moment of vulnerability.

His story hangs heavy in the air. The ember of his cigarette glows in the darkness, casting shadows across his face as he speaks.

She recalls her own brush with heartbreak, the sting of abandonment still fresh in her memory. The parallels between their experiences are both eerie and comforting.

“So you were her George,” She murmurs, her voice soft with understanding.

Javier nods, his expression a mix of regret and resignation. “Yeah. I guess. When you told me what you had gone through that night, I felt so bad. I still do. Me and Lorraine have talked things out since. She’s actually married now. Has two kids and a loving husband. He was able to give her all the things I knew I couldn’t.”

“It’s funny how life works out,” she muses, her voice carrying a hint of empathy. “You both found what you needed in the end, I suppose.”

He nods, exhaling a cloud of smoke that dissipates into the night air. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, the weight of the shared revelations hanging between them. It’s moments like these that reveal the depth of their connection, beyond the surface banter and flirtation.

“And after Lorraine? Was there anyone else you fell for? A lover in Colombia?”

Her name echoes in his mind like a haunting melody, each syllable laced with memories of their tangled past. Helena. Their relationship had begun as nothing more than a transaction, a simple exchange of information for physical intimacy. But as time passed, their bond deepened, evolving into something he never expected.

Helena had been different from the others, a beacon of light in the darkness of his days in Colombia. She listened to him, truly listened, offering comfort and understanding when the weight of his job threatened to crush him. In her arms, he found refuge from the storm raging within him, a sanctuary where he could lay bare his soul without fear of judgment.

But their idyllic bubble was shattered by the harsh realities of their world. The fallout from the Gacha debacle had left Helena broken and vulnerable, a stark reminder of the dangers they faced every day. Javier wrestled with his feelings for her, torn between his duty and his desire to protect her. Yet, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shield her from the horrors that awaited her.

As he recalls their tumultuous journey together, Javier is plagued by a sense of guilt and regret. He had failed her, failed to keep her safe from the darkness that had consumed the country. And now, her name serves as a painful reminder of his shortcomings, haunting him like a ghost from his past.

“No. Just a long string of meaningless sex. Didn’t have the time or energy to date anyone. The job was too demanding for it.”

She reaches out tentatively, resting a hand on his arm. “Well… Thanks for sharing with me. I know how difficult it can be to open up like that,” She says softly, flashing him a small smile.

He meets her gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Of course, hermosa.”

As she straightens up from leaning against his cruiser, a soft sigh escapes her lips, carrying with it a hint of resignation. “I think I’m ready to sneak back in now.”

He nods in acknowledgment as he takes a final drag of his cigarette. Exhaling a plume of smoke, he crushes the butt under the sole of his boot. “Right. We’ll keep this night between the two of us, yeah?”

She responds with a nod, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. She gets back in the car, ready to get into her bed.

He starts the engine, the soft purr of the car’s motor blending with the nocturnal symphony of crickets and cicadas. As they roll down the driveway, he keeps the lights off, wary of getting caught.

It’s not the first time he’s had to sneak a girl back home.

Just as they near the end of the driveway, she curses softly, a sudden realization dawning upon her. Slapping her palm against her forehead, she lets out an exasperated sigh, prompting Javier to glance at her quizzically.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need the ladder to get back upstairs. The lattice fence broke when I snuck out earlier.” She completely forgot about the mishap, it had almost woken her father up.

“Do you need help getting it?”

“…Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

So they sneak around to the backyard, the metallic finish of the elongated ladder gleaming beneath the growing grass that surrounds it. It reminds Paloma that she needs to mow the lawn soon.

As she bends down to grab it, she feels a sudden, unexpected sensation slithering against her leg. Panic rises within her, her muscles tensing in preparation to let out a guttural scream, but before any sound can escape her lips— a strong hand clamps over her mouth, muffling any noise.

She freezes, heart pounding in her chest, as she glances wide-eyed at Javier.

“It’s just a garter snake, nena, it’s not going to hurt you.”

A warm glow then spills from inside the house, casting long shadows across the backyard.

Paloma’s heart leaps into her throat, her pulse quickening as she envisions her father stepping out onto the porch, his stern gaze piercing through the darkness.

With a sense of urgency, Javier gently pulls her back into the comforting embrace of the shadows, his touch a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos of their clandestine escapade.

Their bodies press close together as they hold their breath, hoping to remain unseen.

Her lips are still against his palm while his other hand has a firm hold on her hip. His thumb instinctively traces slow, soothing circles against her skin. It fires up every nerve of her body.

After what seems like an eternity, a soft, distant sound of a flush is heard, followed by a click as the light flickers off.

In unison, they both release the tension they had been holding, his hand gently sliding away from her face as she exhales deeply.

Neither of them attempt to move for a split second, and it’s not until she pulls away that he’s brought back down to Earth.

“Fuck— that was close.”

An electric tension crackles between them, infusing every movement with a heady rush of anticipation. Wordlessly, they resume their task, the air thick with both desire and apprehension.

Each touch, each shared glance teeters on the precipice of control.

It’s a delicate dance, teeming with an unspoken longing that threatens to overflow, begging to be unleashed in the quiet intimacy of the night.

Once Javier is sure that the ladder is steady enough for her to climb, he takes a step back to make room for her.

“Alright, princesa, up the tower you go.”

She doesn’t say anything, her gaze remains fixed on him, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them before she begins her ascent up the ladder.

She makes it up a few steps before she stops and turns to face him fully.

In a bold move, Paloma reaches out, her fingertips delicately curling around the collar of his jacket. With a gentle tug, she draws him closer, her lips meeting his in a fervent kiss.

Caught off guard, he momentarily freezes, but the warmth of her touch and the intensity of her kiss quickly erases any hesitation. In an instant, they’re lost in each other, their lips moving with a fiery urgency, igniting the flame that has been smoldering between them.

Everything else fades away, leaving only the two of them lost in a sea of passion and desire. With each kiss, they explore each other’s mouths. Licking, sucking, biting; it’s better than anything either of them could have ever imagined.

She can’t help but moan softly into his mouth at the way his hands move over her body. Every caress feels like a promise of pleasure to come, and she surrenders completely to Javier.

His muscles tense as he pulls her closer, his touch becoming more urgent. His fingers trace her curves, lingering on the places that make her gasp with pleasure. She can’t help but arch her back, pressing herself even closer to him, desperate for more.

As their bodies meld together, there is sense of completion that they’ve never experienced before. It’s as if they were always meant to be together, two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

Reluctantly, she pulls back first leaving him yearning for more as he reaches out, chasing after her lips.

Their fervent kisses have left his mouth slightly swollen and lips glistening, adorned with remnants of her saliva, evidence of the passion with which they had indulged in each other.

Her eyes are swimming with lust as she brushes some of his hair to the side, “I had to,” she whispers softly, her voice barely above a murmur; filled with affection and sincerity,  “just once.”

Her words carry a weight of longing and vulnerability, a confession of the depth of her emotions for him.

“Buenas noches, Javi.”

He’s so bossy, He makes me dance. Tryna sit in the back of his whip And just cancel my plans. Sweet like candy, But he’s such a man. He knows just what it does When he’s holding me tight And he calls me “Moonlight” too. 

[shivasdarknight]

I CANT BELIEVE THAT I ACTUALLY FORGOT ONE

Halonic Conquest: the Destruction of the Old Gods and the First Wave of Coerthan Heretics.

which is like.

yeah fuck it here's the snippet:

“Older.”  The third book was picked up and its cover shown to Melisande, one that was titled, Halonic Conquest: the Destruction of the Old Gods and the First Wave of Coerthan Heretics.  “Ishgard’s had two waves of polytheism and one wave of monotheism.  The initial was the Old Gods, the second was the Twelve.  From what I understand, the attitude towards paganistic Coerthans during this second period was ‘don’t disrespect our Gods and we won’t have an issue’.  But during the shift to Halonic worship solely, the change of doctrine demanded sole worship of Halone — as mandated by Ishgard over the region of Coerthas.  Thus the followers of the Old Gods were persecuted, chased into secrecy, and eventually became known as the original heretics.  This is…more of a history text, I guess.  Not much on theism, more about the actual persecution.”

which is obvs based on christianity's rise to prominence and why it so thoroughly wiped out polytheistic religions wherever it went

and obvs i took this angle because of my college courses, because ancient to medieval art history is like half christian religious studies, half archaeology and anthropology.

one of the batshit things i get up to - wrt xiv fanfic - is coming up with like. what academic texts might exist within the world. and without fail it's shit that i want to read and im mad at myself because THEY DONT EXIST AAAAAAAAAAaa

[beevean]

We finally watched Nocturne.

... what? No, no endless post this time :P not only because it's just one season. It's just as I expected: it's not as infuriating as its big sibling. (unless you're familiar with the French Revolution coughcough@the-crow-binary)

We only watched the first four episodes so far, and I have already said a lot, so let's go.

The thing I complained the most about, I noticed, was the worldbuilding, mostly how vampires work. The original show "elfified" vampires, only keeping the basic traits "need blood, don't like sunlight or running water, can turn into things like bats and mist". They were portrayed as this ancient rage, one with its own culture (much superior than the dumb humans who forget everything because church bad): they sleep normally, they can eat food if they so wish, apparently they can have sex with zero issues lol, and infamously child vampires are treated as, well, innocent children and not as poor human kids suffering a terrible fate. Trevor even kindly tells us that the reason vampires hate crosses regardless of their faith is because their eyesight is so advanced that they freak out at the sight of geometrical shapes. The only monstruous trait they have is that apparently they have a tendency to go insane and crave power. Honestly, they kind of remind me of Twilight.

And somehow Nocturne manages to get it worse.

Now, yes, vampires in Nocturne bite far more often than in the OG show. I think in that other show we see them doing that... twice? And Carmilla and Lenore lick Hector's blood; then they just drink from their stock of blood à la Drac from SoTN. Anyway, Nocturne is more willing to show them as beasts, so good job. Hell, Sun Thundercat even turns a human!

But in this setting, vampires seem to not even have those few weaknesses they had in the OG show. For a story centered on how Sun Thundercat will bring eternal night to the world because sun is the number 1 obstacle to vampires, it's baffling how easily they can just walk around in plain daylight. Olrox looks out of the window with his face illuminated by the sun. Drolta can literally walk just fine, even without a parasol. @spinningbuster98 kept asking "why don't peasants or slaves just destroy the windows of the places where they know vampires live?" - well clearly they'd be fine!

And special shoutout to Drolta who openly mocks the concept of her being hurt by being in a church. At least in S1, Blue Fangs explained its presence in the Bishop's church by blaming his heinous actions for pushing God away.

Vampires are also shockingly well integrated into society. These extremely pale people, with visible pointy ears and long fangs, can chill around in a nice palace or stroll into a theatre, and no one bats an eye. How? In the OG show, vampires could be in a position of power (see the council of Styria), but they mostly worked from the shadows. Did humans just... accept the presence of these monsters?

(the cross weakness becomes way funnier now. Vampires are weak to the religion they used to believe in, so Annette can ask the help of the Christian God to harm previously Christian vampires. I actually like this. But then this makes that OG "vampires have super freaky eyesight" scene even stupider than it used to be)

Another point for the clumsy worldbuilding. Hey, remember how I complained that N!Hector wearing Hector's CoD outfit makes no sense? Because that's what he could cobble up from his old Devil Forgemaster uniform and it's basically the best he can wear for running through the country and fighting, while N!Hector 1) is still in Drac's service in S2 so you'd expect a more professional uniform from him, like the one worn by N!Isaac, and 2) he very much does not fight, making details like the arm guard and the single glove look redudant. We have a similar issue here: Maria, whose design was taken straight out of DXC, complains in the first episode that her mother is too poor to pay taxes. You can tell that she doesn't look that poor. To make things even worse, in the second episode, Tera is able to offer bread to Annette and Edouard: the French Revolution started, among other reasons, because even bread got ridiculously expensive for common people! So which is it? Is Maria one of the common people, or a well-off young woman who really has no business leading the revolution?

And this... is tied to other problems.

The French Revolution is nothing more than a shallow backdrop for the main plot being the Vampire Messiah being hyped up as the greatest evil to ever evil. You can tell the writers did not care when they cast Vaublanc, a real person who fought against slavery, as a vampire slaveowner. I think. I think you shouldn't do that.

The point is, it becomes increasingly jarring when you see that the main protagonists, the ones who spout the most generic "liberty, equality, fraternity"... are not even French. Maria has Russian origins, and as I've shown she seems to be doing well. Richter is a Romanian who grew up in the US. Annette, who gets to make a super epic speech about freedom, is a runaway from Saint-Domingue. Edouard is a rich opera singer, also from Saint-Domingue.

Oh, Annette.

You know, I want to say something. I'd have much more patience for her abrasive, ungrateful, condescending behavior, I'd justify it as a result of her trauma, if it weren't for how mean-spirited she is and for how no one seems to even react to her.

bruh.

You did that, huh. Richter has been nothing but kind and supportive to you, relating to the loss of your friend and of your mother - this isn't a Trevor situation where you can fall for what the story tells you and believe he's actually rude, no, Richter is on-screen a very nice guy! And you say that? To his face? After he revealed to you that the Belmonts used to do magic but he can't because he lost his mom? Something you should know how devastating it feels? And you THROW THAT TO HIS FACE??

Richter is the one who gasps, by the way. Maria and Tera over there? Nah they're just eating popcorn as this stranger is deliberately hitting Richter where it hurts the most. Thanks girls.

Oh but she's not done!

I know what this is. Look at her, the Stronk former slave who suffered Hardships which inherently makes her more Mature and World Wise, looking down on the two white French people who obviously had it so easy in their lives.

Hey, Ms. Adult. Who's the one who lost control of her powers, leading to Edouard becoming a Night Creature? Richter is too nice to throw that in your face. I'm not :)

Hey, Ms. I Suffered More Than You. Who's the one who only managed to save herself from the plantation only due to magical god-inherited powers? Which is also incredibly insensitive to the real-life slaves who managed to escape with nothing more but human skills and intellect?

Hey, Ms. I'm More Mature Than You Whiteys. Who's the one who needed the help of a rich half-white man to be protected? Not that you even know the concept of being grateful.

Uh, and Tera? You mind chiming in? You mind defending your daughter and your adopted son from this stranger who keeps being rude and disrespectful? No? Okay. She just suggests how to save Edouard, but lets Annette's words slide. You and Lisa can compete for the title of Mom of the Year.

Oh, but this is not a sexism or racism issue. This is literally the same thing as Alucard in S2 being the biggest hypercunt to Trevor, making fun of his traumatic childhood, cruelly mocking his family and his legacy, and treating him like he's nothing more than a failure of a drunkard when the dude has been nothing but a help in fights and gave them access to the vast Belmont Hold... and Sypha always rushed in Alucard's defense because boohoo his depression is an icy well of sadness, he Suffered More Than You!

This is just the writers shitting on the Belmonts, and I am sick of it. Trevor did not deserve this, and Richter doesn't deserve this.

Anyway, characters. I have little to say. Richter is the best one, being reasonably cocky as you would expect from him; not to an insufferable degree, just yeah he comes off as an immature young man who needs to grow up. I like him. Maria is a parody of teens on Twitter talking about seizing the means of production, and I kind of forget she's there. Annette, yeah :) Edouard got retroactively characterized after his death, but I still don't know how to describe his personality beyond "helpful" and "source of infodumps". Tera exists. The abbot is profoundly stupid for allying himself with vampires for the sake of crushing the "Godless" Revolution (there's an N!Hector joke to make here but it's not worth it). Drolta is basically Isaac who slapped a pair of tits on himself and just like that she's a beloved slay queen icon. Templar Agent Stone Mizrak is mere bara bait so far. Olrox... well, so far he's mildly intriguing for being outside of the hero/villain dichotomy. Kind of a tryhard, though, and I still don't know why he didn't just kill Richter.

My last complaint is that it's really boring how they hype up Sun Thundercat as this harbinger of DEATH AND SUFFERING AND PAIN AND TERROR way before we even see her. It reminds me of Alucard exposing how a world without humans would be: just this empty, edgy narration with nothing to show for it. But at least by then we had a taste of Dracula's anger and powers, so this is even worse. You need to try harder to build up an antagonist.

and finally, have the best moment in the whole franchise

BUT, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[lovelyirony]

Hey consider- Tony as a Fallen Angel who didn't fall with Lucifer, but because he was "defective" - he kept making things, which God said was his sphere alone. Kept questioning God's decisions, like when he punished Eve's curiousity. And, in typical Old Testament God fashion, he gave Tony an over-the-top punishment- he could keep creating, but had to live as a human, and He arranged for Tony's lives to try to beat the rebelliousness out of him. Hence Howard, Obie, etc. -teahusbands anon.

hoo boy i love this prompt is it alright if i tweak it a bit? i’m gonna say that God cast Tony down as a human so he could help them instead of questioning God’s authority up there and Lucifer tries to recruit him but Tony refuses so THEN Lucifer decides to send in his worst demons to break him and Tony’s memory is washed with every single time…that okay? I’m gonna write it YEET

Antonis was a wonderful angel. Instructed to make the animals. Some of the most beautiful were crafted by Antonis himself, such as the peacock or tiger with their brilliant colors and sharp qualities. 

The problem was that Antonis questioned God. A lot. And he wanted to make more than what God assigned him; he already had designs for new animals that could be beneficial. (And if Antonis was being completely honest, the “mosquito” was a terrible animal that needed to die.) 

God sent Antonis down once humans arrived. They needed an angel to watch over them and make sure they didn’t do anything too stupid or find out what was really up there too quickly. Antonis said fine. He loved the humans, even helped with most of the innovations. (God wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t like he could intervene all the time. Besides, Antonis knew his limits.) 

It became a problem when Lucifer wanted to influence Antonis. Earth was fair game, but Lucifer knew how to twist it to his favor. Besides, God didn’t have to know. He didn’t know a lot of things. 

Antonis refuses to even think of creating creatures or demons for Lucifer. “You know that you were cast for a reason,” he warns. 

“So were you, Antonis,” Lucifer says. “And you seem to think that it was only to help the humans. Didn’t Father let you know? He likes to be the one in charge. He doesn’t want you up there staging a rebellion at some point because you disagree with one of his rulings.” Antonis shakes his head. 

“Whether or not that is true is no concern to you or I. I refuse to work for you and you know it.” 

“Fine,” Lucifer says. “But then that means you’re not going to have your angelic stance.” Antonis doesn’t remember what happens next. 

He ceases to exist as an angel. God has a sneaking suspicion that Lucifer had something to do with it (although the suspicion was basically “yeah, he did it”) but he wasn’t going to do anything about it and risk starting yet another holy war. 

Antonis becomes a little boy in Egypt, dying at age thirteen due to disease. His father and mother do not mourn. He was sickly. 

He is a knight in the Medieval Ages, fallen on his lover’s sword. There was a quarrel that neither could come back from. 

Antonis becomes Anthony when he is born, one of the first boys to sign up for the Revolutionary War. His mother died, his father blames him. Prays to a deity who knows not to listen too closely to requests made about Anthony.  

He dies in 1776. No one documented the exact date. A British soldier shot him with a musket and stole the jacket off his back. 

He comes back in the late 1800s. He is brought up with strict Victorian morals and an aversion to being a “man’s man.” His cousin called him an Oscar Wilde type figure. Anthony figures that that is a good thing. He likes how Oscar Wilde writes. (Apparently, it is not.) 

He fights in World War I. His mother writes him once. Asks if he needs anything. They can’t afford it, but he appreciates it. 

Tony dies because he sacrifices himself to save a German. They say it’s a damn shame, and he’s dropped into a mass grave. His family doesn’t care enough to find him. They figure he’s dead, just like all the other boys in the neighborhood. His mother doesn’t even wear black. 

He’s born to Howard and Maria Stark. Maria’s glad it’s a boy so she doesn’t have to have another baby. Howard supposes it’s nice to have a familial heir. Lucifer smiles as he witnesses the next Antonis grow up and learn. Watches as he constantly gets torn down. 

Because for Howard Stark nothing is ever good enough. Tony keeps trying only for his father to be dismissive. 

And Lucifer whispers words into Obadiah Stane’s ear because you would make a much better CEO than that little child, wouldn’t you Stane? You could gain his trust, couldn’t you? And so Obadiah Stane becomes “Uncle Obie” and Tony always grins up at him because he brings pizza and smiles and reassurances that Howard and Maria could never give  

but Obadiah is bringing death with him, and it’s only a matter of time. He brings death when Tony is seventeen, supposed to be in a 1991 model Cadillac, and the news hits that billionaire Howard and his philanthropist wife Maria have died in a car crash. 

Sure. You could call it that. 

Lucifer doesn’t contemplate the fact that other angels have been watching. The ones that God still has under his thumb, but not quite. And they have seen Antonis fall, over and over, and refuse to let him go about it alone anymore. 

Edwin Jarvis, James Rhodes, and Virginia Potts come into the scene. They’re angels. Hardly missed up there, where there are others to boss around. They are there for Tony. To make sure that he doesn’t get hopeless. That Tony Stark will have a good life, for once. 

This doesn’t deter Lucifer. 

There’s Afghanistan, when his heart is blown to hell and Lucifer thinks that he’ll get the soul and destroy Antonis, make him his bitch, but no. Damned Yinsen. Another angel with a heart. And Tony Stark survives with an arc reactor wedged into his chest and a peace sign thrown up into the other as Rhodey comes to save him. 

“God, you’re an angel,” he says. Rhodey grins. 

“Sure, something like that.” 

The second time, Antonis is dying. Mainly because of Lucifer and his human side. It’s accelerated. Natalie Rushman is there. She’s a demon, designed to make sure that people follow what Lucifer wants them to. 

She goes rogue during the second month she’s there. Lucifer loses a valued demon to a group of angels and a once-was. (Because for once, Natasha can feel.) 

He nearly dies. But gets up anyway. Lucifer decides to up the ante. 

Alien invaders. No one’s seen them in centuries, especially not on earth. There’s an uptick in prayers said. 

Antonis doesn’t fucking die. 

It’s ridiculous. 

But he’ll keep trying. He has to. 

He needs to be broken. 

[arsonistired]

if i get ONE MORE PRIMER at my door telling me to “save myself” and “join the church of prime” im gonna lose it. fucker i work in a history museum i know your shit was led by a child abuser

[vampire-propaganda]

God. Real. Sorry man, I'm going to ramble extensively about my experiences on your post. Feel free to ignore.

I find I'm more fluctuating/weird empathy than no/steady low, which Fucking Sucks Ass because I can't even provide a steady amount of responsiveness. Affective empathy fucks me over hardest. The rest of it is probably flawed as well, wouldn't be surprised. I can't quite tell which other types of empathy aren't doing so hot.

TWs: SUI, DEATH, HOSPITALISATION, GRIEF, RELIGION, DEHUMANIZATION, JUST A LOT

Picture I'm like 17 years old.

I remember when mom told me P had attempted on her life, that's one of my strongest memories where I just blatantly lacked affective empathy. God only knows what else. I had a brief sobbing burst at first. Didn't even last a minute. I lamented once, literally went "oh, what has she done?" In the sense that it was a tragic thing. In the sense that I hoped she wouldn't, I hoped she would find a way to recover, I had faith that she would and I wanted desperately to see her thrive some day. It wasn't blame, in case that needs to be said.

That was all, emotional expression left the chat. I felt something for sure. I think I was sad in some way, at least. Nothing on my face, not a whole lot in my head either. I remember mom looked at me like I'm some sort of freak of nature. I think I will always remember that otherness. I made myself useful. I consoled everyone else, offered acts of service and some sort of emotional support whenever I could actually do that well. I took care of them. Just listened, said whatever scripted shit I could come up with, helped with emotional regulation, fetched things, made food, service service and more service.

Mask it and make up for what you lack as if you're atoning for some great sin. Make up for the fact that you are broken and you cannot be like them.

I visited P at the hospital every day, spent hours there. Held her hand, combed her hair when it got tangled, talked to her, told her about things I knew she would be interested in, played music I knew she liked. Even though she likely had so much brain damage that she didn't understand any of it. I was kind of desperate and I wanted to think it counted for something. So much shame and guilt. So much "atoning for my crime." I spent the rest of the time on the run, basically. Escaped. Drove, walked and biked around aimlessly. Chilled in the city until midnight. Sat at the beach or in the woods alone. I couldn't mirror everyone else's feelings and grieve the way I was expected. I just couldn't go home and face more alienation, more reminders I'm broken in some way. I came home as late as I could, hoped everyone was asleep.

Then when P died and everyone was crying in the living room, I just fucking stood there like :| like a total cock and felt the immense weight of her death, my guilt and my alienation. I did feel. Still not how and how much I should.

My 17-ish year old self was just thinking "In a way, I'm kind of glad. Her body wouldn't recover without a damn miracle, the staff made it clear what her chances are. She wrote she didn't want to recover from this either. She's not suffering against her will, not forced to. Isn't that what she wanted? Is this not the most ethical outcome then?"

I kept up the same attempts to support everyone. Still emotionally dull by comparison. I visited grandma (P's maternal figure) every day after her death. She turned to her faith. We read Bible passages, she looked for "messages" based on P's hospitalisation and death date. I didn't understand her on that but I helped. I went to church with her, we prayed, we sang hymns. I'm an atheist, quite religion-averse. But I saw it helped her cope, It made her feel supported and loved. I went through P's stuff with her, listened to her reminisce and go through all the emotions, I held her while she did and petted her. Tried to help her make sense of P's reasons, as much as could be. I reassured her that she had done all she could and been a good guardian to P, from what I could tell.

At 21-ish, I handled dad's death a bit better. I think. It was not a similar situation though, so it's not fully comparable. I have managed to show more emotion this time, I think? Though a lot of it came out as anger this time.

It felt like I had never done enough. I wasn't doing that one thing I was expected to. It was implied, more or less hidden, that I am cold and unfeeling. That I do not care. I kept trying to make up for it. To somehow show it. More caregiving. Lord did I fucking try but it seems nothing really makes up for it. One of those things that have made me feel Not Even Human TM all my life. I mean, some define the very concept of humanity by capacity for empathy - what am I meant to do with that? /rhetorical

Low/no empathy culture is being scared of people you know passing away, purely because you wouldn't be able to react or feel anything towards it.

low/no empathy culture is

[bamboozledchaos]

APPRECIATION POST BABY LET’S GOOOO-

According to my list’s order instead of level of affection etc. ehe~ I love all of you! /p Part 1

@gunterdon MY BROOO ILYSM, basically my Big Bro 1 ehe~, awesome, so nice, supportive, will 100% be the parent friend who stops me from consuming rocks, ty for being here for us! Sending brohugs. That one kind upperclassman who adopts every new kid.

@amarias-yandere-genshin MAH FRIEND, one of my earliest friends on here, absolutely 🤌🏻✨ writing/characterisations of yandere characters. Will probably want to be your friend if I saw you at school or sth.

@yyxandere CUTE FREN, another one of my earliest friends on here, I love that you send me some posts, absolutely must protect. Gives me the energy of the precious shy kids.

@nicebonescomrade one of the first ones who I was like actually jumping when you accepted my moot req, amazing writing, loving the new emo theme arc so far, chaotic and I’ll rate you 10 Childes out of 10 ehe~

@raidengaile MY CHAOTIC MOOTIE DANGO! Chaotic and gives me the vibes of if Raiden got possessed by Klee, supportive and amazing writing, my rebellion recruiter mwahaha yasss queen slayyy (can actually see you pulling out Raiden’s sword to do the ‘I have God and anime on my side AAA’ meme)

@versadies , has aesthetic vibes, wholesome and supportive what- will protect, loving the new theme 🤌🏻🌙, awesome writing, also radiates :D energy.

@is-very-sad ABSOLUTELY 🤌🏻💕 MAH FRIEND like how are we friends you’re so cool what- your writing 🤌🏻✨, one of my mooties whom I interact with more often, imma rate you as 10 drowning Aethers out of 10 smug Paimons.

@euphorickaeya aesthetic kaeya with awesome content- low-key wanna interact more this year ehe~ the one person who can deal with Kaeya’s smug arse, oh my gosh- you’re nice and I like ya cut g!

@willowedwisteria hOW are you so- you give me the impression of a friend’s wholesome and well-spoken sibling. Sometimes gives me the vibes of a fanfav smol elder NPC. Will probably see a cult of butterflies around you and I wouldn’t even doubt it.

@emyrl COOL BRO ENERGY- actually all three of you seem nice and chill. Adri gives me the low-key popular youth event leader energy for no reason?? Oddly specific vibes but in a cool way. How does your brain work without going into idea-is- too-awesome overdrive??? hOW? Also, all I can see y’all’s sisters are as an adorable flying angel and Arcane’s Vi (Basicaly badass heartthrob energy??? Not sure since I kinda associated you with Arcane’s character too much ahahdjdhk)

@solaaresque PYRO BESTIE ENERGY, Yoimiya’s beloved, when’s y’all’s wedding bestie /lhj, the type to be secretly chaotic and somehow makes sh*tposts look aesthetic, psychologists hate you for being too awesome, needs sunglasses asap!

@myuni-moon WHOLESOME?? Aesthetic 100, probably the leader of a butterfly religion, the type I can see to be the only one to remember to give a stray pet water?? Again, I have no idea why. Has the energy of a warmer moonlight holding a cuppa mocha, will probably be in a coffee shop AU, will be good at sisterly hugs

[kailedger]

for all the YOI fanfic authors

I’ve been reading a lot of fanfics in this particular fandom and, as a Russian, there’s like... little things that constantly bother me. Don’t get me wrong, the works are amazing, but every time I see this little innacurate details in a really good piece I’m like... slightly dissapointed lol

So here’s a couple things from a native speaker and someone who actually lives in Russia. (Also pardon my grammar, since English is not my first language).

NAMES. I couldn't stress it more, honestly. Here's the thing: most of Russian names have a full version and a short version. For example Victor (or Viktor, whichever you prefer) is the full version and Vitya is the short version. Sometimes I see authors using the short version, but most of the time it's described as something unusual (like Victor gets TOO excited to hear it from Yuuri). But in real life everyone in Russia will call him Vitya. It's not a big deal, the closest equivalent I can think of is this: if you wanna adress someone as Ms. or Mr., you can use the full name, but if two people are on the first name basis, in Russia they most likely will use the short version. So, like, Yakov, Yurio, Mila, Georgi will definitely call him Vitya (as I recall, in anime Yakov actually does? Or have I been reading too much fanfiction?). 

If it's an official kind of thing (for example, press meetings etc.) Victor can be adressed by his full name, sometimes even with his paternal name. (Paternal names in Russia is a whole other thing, pretty close to second names, but a little bit different. We always adress elder people like teachers with both full name and paternal name). I actually think Victor would adress Yakov with his paternal name, but that heavely depends in their relationship (honestly, Victor has like zero chill, so I wouldn't put it past behind him to have no respect in this matter lol). 

Oh, and Yurio's name is a mess in most fanfics. The full name would be Yuri, the short version is Yura. Since Otabek is from Kazakzstan, there's a very high chance he's actually fluent in Russian, so he would definitely use "Yura". The cutesy dimunitive would be Yurochka (not Yuratchka as it's stated in the anime subtitles), but it's only appropriate to use with a big age difference (like Yurio's granpa calling him that) or in a really sweet manner, to a point of being almost nauseating. (BTW, dimunitive from Vitya is Viten'ka). 

Mila's full name doesn't actually have a short version, but if you're looking for a dimunitive it's Milochka (which is also the same word for "darling" in Russian, and this version can be kind of sarcastic, so be careful with it). 

Georgi... Oh my God, where do I start lol. There's like two common short versions: Zhora or Gosha (sometimes even Goga, we have a very popular movie quote with this name, it's like a well-known joke for Russians).

Pet names. That's a whole other different level of hell. I often see people writing Victor using pet names, sometimes it's good, most of the times it makes me go "He would never use that, please, stop". 

"Zolotse" as in "gold" is actually a pretty good one - altough it's a little conservative and not often used, it has a personal meaning for Victor and Yuuri and isn't, you know... cringy. But for the love of God, don't use "krasavchik" (handsome guy) or "detka" (baby), it's just... no. Miliy (darling), lyubov moya or lyubimiy (my love) are pretty good. A little too sweet for my taste, but I actually think it's appropriate for Victor since he's clingy lol.

Accents. So here's the thing. I lived my whole life in Russia, I learned English through some additional courses (not very advanced) and watching a lot of american/english tv-shows and movies and reading literature in english. When I had the chance to talk to native speakers (one was from Boston, I believe, and also a bunch of people in England when I went on a vacation there), most of them said that I barely had any accent at all. 

Victor presumably has been participating in international events from a very young age. My point is - sure, he can have an accent, but in my opinion it's not gonna be very distinctive. Unless he's specifically speaking in a broken English, but, like, why would he do that? On the other hand, Yurio and Mila are both pretty young, so it would actually make sense for them to have an accent or even have trouble speaking English.

Customs and traditions. Pretty sure most people know it already, but in Russia we do wear our wedding rings on the right hand. Has something to do with our main religion being eastern orthodox church. 

We don't usually celebrate Christmas. Our Christmas is on 7th of January and it's a pretty religious holiday, most of us barely acknowledge it. So 25th of December is not a holiday in Russia. But! New Year is the biggest holiday for the whole country. We celebrate it starting from 31st of December, and the celebration itself usually involves the New Year tree, champange, tangerines and a whole bunch of salads. We have official holidays from 31st of December all the way to 7th on January (some years even 8th or 9th). So it's a whole week of celebration where people usually get drunk a lot lol. 

The stereotype about russians drinking a lot is not exactly a sterotype tbh. We DO drink a lot, not all of us, of course, but still. And yeah - vodka is pretty common since you can find it really cheap and it doesn't have a particular taste or smell (if you don't count the smell and taste of alcohol itself). But I, for example, prefer rum in my cocktails, so it's like a preference thing. 

Not exactly a tradition or custom, but still fits here. Yeah, it can get pretty cold in Russia, especially in winter or late fall. But this winter (of 2019-2020) was pretty mild honestly, not a lot of snow and the temperature was rarely below -10 degrees celcium. And our summers can get unbearebly hot. Since the humidity in St. Petersburg is very high, it makes the hot weather even worse. Oh, yeah, and in St. P it rains A LOT. The city itself is pretty gloomy and dark, but that's kind of part of it's charm if you're into this kind of thing (some people are not, I've got a lot of friends from Moscow who hate St. P for being so moody). 

Russia is also pretty big. The travel from St. P to Moscow is from 4 to 12 hours on train (depends on what train you're on) or 1.5 hour on plane. But both of those cities are in the western part of the country. Vladivostok (the city on the eastern coast) is actually closer to Japan than it's to St. P or Moscow (2 hour flight to Japan, 45 hour flight to St. P, crazy, right?)

Homophobia. Kinda heavy topic, beware. Russia is a homophobic country. Not to the point of same-sex relationship being a criminal offence, but propaganda, as our authorities would call it, is an administrative offence. And the court can judge A LOT of your actions as a propaganda, especially if you’re a public person. I mostly prefer to not dwell on this topic in fanfiction, I think even the creators of anime itself stated that there’s no homophobia in YOI world, so best stick to it, I guess? But if you wanna go for something realistic, here’s how it would have been in Russia. If Victor EVER publicly acknolewged being in a relationship with another man (like... kissing one on a national televion, ya know), he would be heavely criticized. There would still be supporters, people who would say that it doesn’t matter, what his personal life is like, but there would be a lot of backlash, especially on official level. Which would make his life in Russia pretty miserable tbh. He would most likely lose a majority of his sponsorships in Russia, there’s even a high chance of administrative penalty (since he’s a public person). That’s really sad and makes me very, very angry, but, unfortunatly, that’s the reality. Oh, and same-sex marriage is illegal in Russia, in case that wasn’t clear. 

Phew, that was a lot, and I think I haven’t covered all that I wanted to lol. But in case you have any question, feel free to ask!

p.s.: part two, if you’re interested: https://kailedger.tumblr.com/post/621623611041759232/for-all-the-yoi-fanfic-author-p2

[hawaiian-has-moved]

you aren’t cannon. beetlebabes is more cannon than you. at least that shit was in the musical and movie and cartoon.

Need I remind you idiots, since I have already said I'm no longer being nice to you anymore.

That I do not give a damn what you think it looked like to you in that fucked up brain of yours, it's still p*dophilia. Man it's almost sad I live this rent free in your head for existing. I just exist and your blood boils. It's cute.

Anyway, Lydia is a minor in every version.

And if you think the wedding in the movie was romantic. Man every gross man I've cringed at for being a creepo must have been true love.

But see, that's the thing you people don't get huh? Consent. Consent does not exist to you. If it did you wouldn't fight when people say that Lydia is a minor and therefore cannot consent. It doesn't click because you found something hot about shipping this developing teen with this old as fuck perv.

But oh? Is that not enough for you, you cry, begging to justify your vile ship. Allow me to humor you and go through the other versions.

In fact! I'll analyze a whole song just for you.

Also please look at yet another picture of Lydia obviously not having it.

Way back when I was just ten

Simple and sweet

Everywhere, fellas would stare

Out on the street

And I felt used

Kinda confused

I would refuse to look in their eyes

But now I really love creepy old guys

This is kinda obvious, she's been preyed on before by men. So basic p*do trying to gr**m a kid scenario. But the satire to the song of course is that "it's all fine now" Which it's obviously not, she's just using this to trick him so they can send him back as an end goal.

We all do!

Gum disease

Skin like grilled cheese

Saggy old asses

(Saggy old asses)

Cute and vile

Hey baby, smile

To each girl that passes

They make me blush

(Can't get enough)

Now one of 'em loves me, wants to be mine

(That's right)

Marrying my own creepy old guy!

(I'm a creepy old guy)

This is just more playing out the satire of pretending it's okay, but with Beej chiming in because he already lacks the knowledge that this is grooming and it's not okay. Tricking him into thinking this is fine to end up killing him is a breeze.

My creepy old guy, my creepy old guy

I'm so happy I could cry

Girls may seem disgusted, but we're actually just shy

It's not uncommon that I've heard about or heard someone get told that they're just shy when a gross ass old man or someone is trying to gr**m a kid. It's gaslighting and manipulation in most cases. So for them to say that it's because they're actually just shy as part of the satire is the point.

My creepy old groom (creepy old groom)

Play that wedding tune

Hey folks, step aside

(I am older, but I'm glad I waited)

And if you've watched a bootleg, you would recall Barbara right here smiling and then turning away with eyes wide, like "this is not fucking okay" Kind of look on her face. But yeah this is another one of those phrases that you hear too often in these gross situations.

'Cause here comes the bride

I am marrying my creepy old guy

(Creepy old guy, creepy old guy, creepy old guy)

He's my creepy old guy

(Creepy old guy, creepy old guy, creepy old guy!)

Fix his hair

Get him prepared

For Armageddon

Again if you have seen a bootleg, here Lydia puts a finger to her lips and goes shhhh. Because Armageddon is Beejs death.

Sure, the groom

Crawled out of a tomb

But hey, hey, it's a wedding!

He's really fucking old guys. There is a huge age gap and this is p*dophilia.

So dim the lights

Pick up some rice

Say something nice

It's my day to shine

I'm getting hitched to my creepy old guy

(It's showtime)

Creepy old guy, creepy old guy

She's marrying a creepy old guy

Have you guys seen "Lolita"?

This is just like that, but fine

I have not seen Lolita, but I have been told it's similar to this who marriage scenario and is mega bad. Now if it were Lolita fashion, that is made to ward off men, so I assume it's a movie from what info I have.

Creepy old dude, creepy old dude

Our faith has been renewed

Now love is alive!

Wave your baby girl goodbye

I am walking down the aisle

I wanna see a tear in every eye as I pass by

I know that on the outside he's disgusting

And even on the inside, he's disgusting

This whole scenario is fucking vile. He's vile.

But I know that this time, I'm makin' it right

(Making it right, making it right!)

With my family by my side

O.M.G.

Dressed to a "T"

Fancy and formal

I found me a wife

L'chaim to life

This is so normal!

I was ignored

But now, I'm adored!

'Cause I extorted, tortured, and lied

Give it up for my underage bride!

They've done it, they have successfully tricked him into thinking this is okay with no funny business. But he's about to get stabbed. L'chaim to life is a nod at him being Jewish, also he had a Kippah in the DC version which backed this joke, but it fell off a lot ig so he doesn't have it now. Traditionally there was a lot of marrying women off to much older men for property and stuff, as most religions do/did tho. I was in a production of Fiddler on the roof for example and that was the whole premise.

Here comes the bride

Here comes the bride

God be glorified

I can't believe some cultures think this kind of thing's alright

My creepy old guy

My creepy old guy

Doesn't he deserve a chance at life?

Oh yeah, that's right

Yeah, that's right

So let's make him alive!

I am marrying my creepy old guy!

Guy, guy, guy, creepy old guy

Guy, guy, creepy old guy

Guy, guy

(I have chills)

Yeah!

And then they stab him and the till death do we part sign over the stage all makes sense now because the wedding vows are undone and since he's recently deceased he almost returns to the netherworld.

Etcetera etcetera... But of course you guys go tome deaf at that one when it plays if I remember right.

Oh right, the cartoon, of course, I knew just what you were thinking don't worry. You're thinking "oh well what about the comics, and the valentine cards! And and the animators who drew lewd stuff of Lydia!" Well.... Haha! Still p*dophilia! And also I have seen the infamous Lydia drawing and it's got her head shape, nose, lips, but it's not fully her. Even if it was again my first point, still p*dophilia. And yeah just because the people who worked on it drew it, doesn't make it suddenly okay. Ffs...

I couldn't even find a cartoon wedding that wasn't fan drawn to match this one. Because that doesn't exist! But I do have my favorite point to make.

Beetlejuice's look into Lydia's future in Pest O' the West.

Now why you b*bes were busy being p*dos and gr**ming kids on the internet into thinking this shit is okay, I was mastering the art of common fucking sense.

Beej makes a joking remark that he cannot see into the future while hiding from Bully the Crud, but when he does as per usual, his puns and phrases make his magic go to work. So a crystal ball appears in front of him showing the future in the images I've provided.

Lydia, doing a heaping pile of dishes as a ghost for bully and all of their kids, very unhappy and driven insane. Because imagine what being married to someone it's obviously wrong to be with would do to her mind. He hates seeing her like this, so he rushes to save her. Which he successfully does.

Toon is actually the one with canon evidence of this shit being not okay to him.

Also before anyone tries to say it, no the movie and cartoon aren't connected, she doesn't even live in Winter River in the cartoon that should have made it obvious. Besides she's like 14-16 in the movie. So I don't think she de-aged.

Lastly, two things that are off topic. I believe it's spelled canon, and before anyone goes saying fiction doesn't effect reality, I would like you to explain to me how being a Jedi is a official religion if that is so true.

See anon! I gave you my special, condescending talk that too two hours to type on my phone! You stalked me endlessly and I picked you as the special anon that, I didn't deletes ask for being a gross piece of shit in a minors ask box! Wow. That searching my name clicking on my asks, and typing out all that so I could live rent free in your head really.... Didn't work lol. I may have took two hours to type this, but I assure you I will forget about you in 2 days max. Because unlike you, I have better things to do than ship a minor with an ancient demon. Bye bye now, be sure to rant about me with pure rage to your house p*do friends so that my existence may spread further into other people's minds! Woo... Being famous is so tough. 😉

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Epilogue

The Dakrness and the Light

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)  x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3530

Summary: There are loose ends to tie; with Sam and Dean... and other friends. You really thought the times for rendering you speechless were gone. 

You were wrong.

Warnings: swearing, brief angst, guilt trips, brief talk on religion, fluff

Story masterlist

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True to your words, you decided to ask the experts on weird people appearing out of nowhere and shooting light from their hands about the strange experience you had; an encounter that resulted in you gaining your memories back.

Sam and Dean were ecstatic when you told them about remembering everything – including the time you had spent with them though, one set of memories not replacing the other.

After enough cheering via your Skype call, you sent the footage.

The silence stretched as the brothers watched the recording, their eyes wide with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. They seemed spooked, shocked, perplexed and quite a bit fascinated too, to be honest. Steve’s arm around your waist tightened, both of you holding your breath in anticipation.

Oh God, who was the woman? Was she a friend of Rowena? Worse, was she a friend of the King of Hell they had mentioned? Who-

“Holy shit,” Sam finally exclaimed, making you blink in shock. Since when Sam swore? Admittedly, you hadn’t spent that much time with them, but-?

“Quite literally,” Dean conceded, squinting at the screen again as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. You were sure you were about to burst – or at least that your heart would beat its way out of your chest with how forcefully it was hammering against your ribcage. “I thought they went under? Or, you know, up?”

“So did I.”

“Guys? We’re not following. You know who or what this was?” you asked them breathlessly, unable to bear the suspense anymore.

Sam cleared his throat and apparently closed the video, because they were following you with their gaze again.

“Uhm yeah. That was God’s sister who paid you a visit.”

Your heart positively stopped for a second-- and then you laughed self-depreciatingly. Don’t be stupid, hey don’t mean that literally.

…they couldn’t, right?

“…is that a euphemism for something?”

“Nope,” Dean accented the ‘P’ and shrugged for a good measure, knocking the air out of your lungs. And of Steve’s, probably freezing his brain along the way, because his figure went absolutely rigid behind you.

“God’s sister?” Steve parroted and you were sure he wasn’t even breathing at that point.

“Yeah. Her name’s Amara. I’m pretty sure she had a crush on Dean,” Sam explained casually as if it wasn’t a big deal.

God.

And God’s sister-

--wait, what? A crush? Huh?

“Dude. Come on!” Dean called out exasperatedly, hint of red pulsing in his cheeks.

“Like… the actual God’s sister? God, the religion figure… and his sister?”

“Yeah. Amara. The Darkness. God’s sister, whatever. We helped them to solve their family issues a while back,” Dean confirmed, a smug smile tugging at his lips at your disbelief.  

“I beg your pardon?” Steve blurted out, as if reading your frantic thoughts.

It was a lot to chew to begin with, but did Dean really just call her The Darkness? Why weren’t they freaked out by that?!

Sam sighed. “It’s complicated. Look, she also brought our mum back from death, but from what we know now, from what she said to you, it looks like Chuck brought you back and Amara thought you should also have your memories. Don’t worry about it, we’re used to this kind of crazy.”

It took you several moments of the wheels in your head turning before you connected the dots and actually registered what he was saying.

Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa, that would mean that Chuck was… the brother. Which made him… which made him-

“God’s name is Chuck?” you choked out at the same time as Steve questioned a different exclaim of Sam’s: “Don’t worry about it?”

“Yeah. Chill. Be grateful,” Dean shrugged it off as if he didn’t notice your confusion and struggle to comprehend why on Earth God would bring you back from the death and his sister (the hell-- heaven?) stopped by to return your memories on top of that.

“Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale there,” Dean hummed, eyebrows furrowing in actual concern.

Yeah, no shit. I’d like to see your face if you found out that you were saved by—oh, wait, you actually might have…

“It’s… that’s a lot to chew.”

“Come on, you already knew you rose from the dead, this can’t be-“

Sam covered his brother’s mouth with a hand, annoyed look on his face before he smiled at you compassionately. “We know. But we’re serious. There’s nothing we can do about that, just enjoy what you were given. You both have your soulmate back. Be happy.”

“Though I gotta say, my heart is broken. I was holding out for you,” Dean teased you, having wrestled free from Sam’s grasp.

“Dean!”

To be fair, Steve didn’t even flinch at such suggestion, knowing Dean’s flirty nature already, and you were pretty sure he even rolled his eyes.

“Kidding. Call us if you need help, okay?”

“Can I call to just check up on you?” you pried carefully, unable to help the warm smile slowly spreading on your lips as they slapped their hands over the other’s, Sam’s trying to shut his menacing brother up.

They stopped at instant.

“Uhm… yeah?” Dean hummed, clearly surprised, while the younger brother charmed a sweet smile.

“Good. Be careful, guys. I mean it. Let an angel watch over you. And look after him too. Send him my best wishes.”

“We will. We’ll see you, Fire Princess,” Dean winked at you and you huffed. Jerk.

“I hate you,” you murmured, waved at Sam and shut the laptop close, shaking your head.

Steve’s lips found the crook on your neck, nuzzling his face there then.

“Do you understand any of the things they said?” you slightly shifted, your lips catching his halo-like hair, your back leaning onto his chest.

“Nope.”

“And you don’t care,” you stated when he kissed your skin again

“Nope,” he confirmed cheerily, pulling your back to make you lie down on the bed. You complied, ending up on your side, spooned by his warm muscular form. “Besides wanting to know what Fire Princess means, I’m just happy to have you back, doll. You’re all that matters.”

“Steve…”

You heart fluttered in your chest, chasing heat to your cheeks at his sweettalking.

“I mean it. I’m not letting go of you, ever. If I have to lay down my shield, I don’t care. As long as I have you… I have everything I need.”

“Steve, I…” he eased his hold a bit when you squeezed his hand, allowing you to turn and face him. His eyes burned with sincerity, the way you remembered they always did when trying to convince you about something you found hard to believe – usually concerning his feelings. “I… I don’t-“

“I love you. And I mean it. Just say the word.”

“But I… I can’t be enough, Steve. That’s-“ you protested, your head spinning at the thought.

He couldn’t be serious. Could he? Steve had a heart of gold and fighting for the good cause in his blood. He couldn’t stop. Or maybe he could, but at what cost? How long it would take him to realize what a mistake he had made? And what if he blamed you then? Worse, what if someone on the team would get hurt in his absence and he would blame you for that?

Rationally, you knew the last scenario was of zero probability, because Steve would definitely hold himself responsible, no one else, but that only proved your-

His thumb tenderly traced the shape of your lips, eyes seemingly bluer than usual, as if he forced them to change their colour just to look more genuine and innocent, unable to lie.  

“You are. I spent weeks thinking-- thinking that I lost you – because of what I did, no less – and nothing mattered anymore, not really.”

“You love your job,” you stated slowly, incredulous that he was actually considering it. You tried hard to push the rise of hope and annoyingly adoring feelings towards him that bloomed in your chest.

He couldn’t do that, stop that, you bitch, he was not just yours- it wouldn’t be your choice to make-- but that was just wrong--- what if he got fed up with you-

“I loved my job – mostly because it was the only thing familiar in this century. The job was my life. And look where it got me.”

“Face to face with me, resurrected?” you teased with an awkward attempt at smile, unsure of what to make of this conversation and the mess of feelings it stirred within you. Steve only raised one corner of his lips at your silly joke. “No, seriously. I love you too. I love you and that’s why I can’t let you quit, not for me. You’re Steve Rogers. You’re Captain America. It’s like giving up your half.”

“I’ve done that once,” he muttered darkly, looking away. “And you took the other half with you.”

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes at the reminder of why he might in fact could be able to give up on his job; because of the terrible sorrow it had brought him when making the impossible decision in his title’s favour.

You weren’t naïve, not that much at least. You both knew that that particular situation would have never happened if he was doing literally anything else for living.

You sighed, cupping his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Okay. We’ll think about it and talk about it later, alright? Now I just want to kiss you and cuddle you for eternity.”

His lips curled up in a brilliant smile that always made you smile back automatically, making your whole body pliant and feather-light.

“That is the best plan ever, darling,” he praised, planting a kiss to your forehead, indeed snuggling closer, leading your head to hide under his chin. Gosh, you loved when he did that, engulfing you, protecting you from the whole world.

“Thanks, Mr. Rogers.”

“No. Thank you. Thank you for coming back to me.”

You smiled against his throat, kissing his Adam’s apple. “We’ve been over this, I didn’t exactly-“

Hand still in your hair, he guided you from your favourite spot with light pull, only so he could shut you up with a kiss.

You sure as hell didn’t resist and lazily returned the affection, content to stay in that moment forever.

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In real life, moments like that didn’t last forever. Sooner or later, duties and decisions came knocking.

Decisions were hard, especially when coming back from the dead and having to choose if you should keep it secret or not for instance and oh so many more things that needed to be dealt with; which was exactly the reason why you had been avoiding it, but that couldn’t go on for much longer.

For the moment, you decided there weren’t many people to confide in, but there were still some that deserved it.

A priest of the church where your own little altar was placed was one of them, mostly because of the meeting you wanted to hold there. Then again, officially it had been Steve who invited Ryan to a safe place with little information on the reason behind such action.

Steve had warned you he hadn’t spoken to him since before your death, but it could never prepare you for the cold welcome he had got when they came face to face, while you were hiding in the shadows.

“Captain Rogers,” Ryan greeted him stiffly, voice even and sharp enough to cut deeply and precisely with that particular addressing. You and Steve had talked; you knew he had troubles coming to terms with the title after he had lost you despite burying himself in his work and making it look like it was the exact opposite.

“Ryan. Thank you for coming.”

“Why am I here? What do you want?”

Was it just you or did Ryan sound really annoyed as if he couldn’t leave this encounter soon enough? What happened to him?

“I needed to talk to you about something important,” Steve replied softly despite your best friend’s attitude.

Ryan scoffed, crossing his arms on his chest. He was a bit thinner than you remembered, but that might only be the outfit he was wearing; the sweater looked a size too big for him to begin with.

“I have nothing to talk about with you, Steve. Frankly, you being here in this very church is like a sick joke. You weren’t here when it counted. What held you? Work, I imagine?”

Even you winced at the cruel words. This didn’t sound like the man you were best friends with. Was he truly so angry with Steve? Or was it because his heart was still heavy with grief? You didn’t know whether to be touched, angry back or just sad.

And what did Ryan mean by Steve not being here when it mattered?

“It wasn’t like that-” Steve tried to explain and for the first time, his voice cracked, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Imagine that. All of them were here. All of the freaking Avengers came to her funeral-“

Oh. Oh. You had no idea what to make of that. Steve had kinda forgotten to mention that fact to you. You should have figured; he did warn you they hadn’t spoken since before your death. Shit.

Unlike Ryan, you knew it wasn’t the lack of sorrow that had held Steve back from coming – even without him telling you so, it was clear as day to you.

“-even the one from another planet. But you? Her soulmate? Gosh, Steve… what’s your excuse?”

The question was clearly meant to sting and one single glance at Steve told you that it did precisely that; his eyelids fallen shut, his hands balling into fists.

“Do you really need to ask?” Steve chuckled bitterly, forcing himself to relax his hands. You more heard the tears in his voice than saw them from your spot behind the pillar and your heart ached. “How could I show up, Ryan? After what I did? How could I look into your eyes, to her parents’ eyes? I killed her, Ryan. Don’t you think for a second that I don’t feel guilty or regret it every single day. What I did, why I… I-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Steve. I understand why you made the choice you did…” Ryan interrupted him with a sigh and a sideway look, almost as if in conciliatory manner. “But that doesn’t mean I hate you any less for it. Or that I don’t blame you for her death. Because I do. It was your fault.”

Ouch.

“I know. And I understand. You have every right.”

Well, this was going splendidly. Another guilt trip for Steve and hostility from your friend. Just peachy. You seriously considered just walking in regardless Steve’s plea for you to wait for his signal.

“And yet I’m grateful for the weeks you spent together. You made her happiest I have ever seen her. It’s funny how I can hate you for it at the same time,” Ryan added then, his eyes turning compassionate and kind, only a shadow of sorrow remaining.

“Life is that way sometimes. But… I didn’t come here to ask forgiveness, Ryan.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re not getting any. Why are we here then?”

Now this sounded more like Ryan. The corner of your lips rose in a tinniest smile.

“Because she always said you were her platonic soulmate. She trusted you with everything. And you deserve to know.”

“Deserve to know what?”

“That miracles happen,” Steve said simply, not making any sense to the other man. Drama queen. Then again, God had probably saved you, so he wasn’t exaggerating.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is that why we met in a church? Some weird symbolism to… to what?” Ryan sputtered, getting impatient. You almost walked out right then. But you trusted Steve to prepare your friend better for the shock now.

“No. We met here because I believed it was a safe place and you wouldn’t have come to the Tower.”

“Safe place?” Ryan asked warily, eyeing his surroundings suspiciously, his gaze shifting to your soulmate again. “For what?”

You cleared your throat, deciding this was the moment and stepped out. Ryan’s eyes bulged, his face drained of all colour.

“Hello, Ryan. Long time, no see,” you offered a teary smile and he blinked, your name falling from his lips breathlessly and with thousands of questions unspoken.

His gaze flickered to Steve, who smiled at him tightly, gently beckoning to you, encouraging him.

Ryan took several shaky steps and you stopped, letting him cross the distance in his own pace, getting him a chance to back away when feeling like it. On the inside, you wanted to run to him and let the man engulf you in a hug and never let go, but you realized what kind of a shock it must have been.

Hell, you were still coming to terms with it.

“Baby?” he whispered, voice trembling and breaking on the single word. You didn’t bother blinking away your tears, only nodding.

At that, Ryan erased the distance in two long strides, throwing his arms around your neck and sobbing right in your ear. His breath hitched when you hugged him back; as if he had been expecting this was only a trick.

It wasn’t.

“Hey, Ry-Ry,” you rasped, your sob nearly in sync with his, which was ridiculous.

He withdrew then, framing your face with his palms, his eyes travelling all over you.

“I saw you die,” he choked out, incredulous, awed.

“Yeah, lots of people did,” you agreed, covering one of his hands with yours. “It’s a long story.”

His blown-up irises widened further. “Was that… some kind of a cover-up? Did you- how could you not tell-?!”

“It wasn’t a cover-up!” you hurried, shaking your head as his arms fell from you. ”I died, Ry-Ry. I told you it’s a long story.”

“I have time,” he mused, still starring at you, measuring you from head to toe, perplexed and teary.

“Then maybe you should sit down. Before what I tell you knocks you flat on your ass.”

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A smile was tugging at Steve’s lips at their interaction. Ryan was amazed, naturally, and Steve could relate; having her back was everything. He hadn’t been lying to her when he had told her he would lay down his shield if she asked him to. He would do anything only if it meant she would meet his gaze like at that exact moment, tears and laughter in her eyes, her lips spreading in that beautiful smile that tugged on his heartstrings.

“Steven,” the priest appeared at his side, voice low so he wouldn’t disturb the reunion. “Why don’t you join me in the back? Let the two friends catch up?”

Steve could stay right there, watching you explain the insane story, but perhaps he shouldn’t. Your best friend deserved your undivided attention and Steve would be happy to let you do so. God knew that while you were bickering and joking with the rest of his team and friends – now your friends too, no doubt – you weren’t beaming as much as you were at the moment. You needed your own time with Ryan.

“I… I suppose I should. Thank you, Father, for allowing this,” Steve expressed his gratitude, only for the other man to nod and give him a kind smile.

“Well, your friend had a point about symbolism here. Miracles do happen.... Speaking of those. I have someone who I would like you to meet.”

Steve blinked in surprise, but followed Father Lantom, trustful.  “…alright. What is it, Father?”

“It might come as a shock,” the priest warned him as he stopped in front of the door Steve was familiar with; Father had invited him over for coffee before, but Steve always refused, not wanting to abuse his hospitality.

“My soulmate came back from the dead, Father. I doubt anything can shock me at this point.”

The older-looking man chuckled, his hand laid on the handle. “I’m tempted to make a bet, but I must maintain the façade of an honourable man.”

“Father Lantom… what are you talking about?” Steve gulped, something icy creeping up his spine, his heart speeding up in anticipation.

Surely, the man wouldn’t do anything to hurt Steve. The idea was ridiculous. So why was Steve so nervous all of sudden?

“James? May we enter?”

There was no answer and if there was, Steve couldn’t hear it over the pounding in his ears. A crazy idea, old hope that he could never allow himself to feed because people who died stayed dead, even in this insane world, rising in his chest and suffocating him.

James?

Miracles?

The door opened with a creak and Steve only needed a glimpse to freeze in the doorway, his heart stopping, brain short-circuiting. The world swayed of its place and there was a crushing weight on his chest, crushing and vertigo-inducing at the same time, frantic memories of a friendship that should have lasted until the end of the line flashing in his mind, an agonizing memory of watching the fall, completely helpless.

Steve didn’t know how, but the name left his lips without him remembering forming the simple word; a word that felt like a prayer.

“…Bucky?”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Bonus chapter ;)

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

I know, I know! A cliffhanger. But it’s a nice one, right? A little hopeful, a little teasing your imagination; think about it like a post-credit scene ;) 

I can promise a bonus and a short multichapter fic ending this whole soulmate series.

Thank you for reading and your support, every comment means the world to me :-*

[fizzingwizard]

Episode 27! It’s a transitional episode and I have Thoughts but nothing major really happens until the very last second :P

Cap of the day!

You know what they saw about the megane shine... next season’s villain is Jou-senpai!!! you heard it here first!

More below!

GAWD I LOVE JOU

no but SERIOUSLY... so glad to have the rest of the team back. They really do make EVERYTHING better. Taichi and Yamato, yeah they’re cool, I love them, but they just don’t carry the show by themselves. And in a similar vein, the rest of the team needs Taichi and Yamato too. Otherwise they have no reason to be all dramatic and show off their cool sides.

(other than Koushirou of course who was just born Cool but it’s the kind of cool most people don’t recognize until you literally own the entire world Koushirou’s three steps from becoming Seto Kaiba except NICE)

ok back to business... last week we left off with the team finally reuniting and bringing Hikari along. For some reason the two groups both decide to stand in a straight line like two baseball teams about to shake hands. Leomon’s team still looks fricking ridiculous

Sooo jury’s out on how Taichi’s gonna react to Hikari! Yamato’s been so chill with having Takeru around, I started to wonder if we’re gonna see super over protective big bro Taichi instead this time! But for the most part he’s just surprised that she’s not surprised by the Digimon.

Hikari is creepy. lol. She’s very much the “cute little sister” type and this episode, at least, we didn’t see any kind of initiative from her, which is to be expected, I mean give the kid some time to adjust. We don’t see a lot of personality though either... I guess we can say she likes cute things, and she’s pretty darn calm... I don’t really like her voice though. It’s a perfectly fine little girl voice, but she always sounds like she’s about to doze off...

Obligatory “cutest couple” pic

The group then basically recaps what’s been happening in the human world recently. Which is all pretty important stuff. But for some reason Taichi and Yamato don’t fill them in on what they’ve gone through?? They have to explain Takeru and Patamon because well there’s a surprise but then they’re like “oh yeah Patamon’s the holy Digimon” and I’m like WHOA. DUDES. IT’S THE HOLY DIGIMON. THE THING Y’ALL RISKED YOUR NECKS FOR. Shouldn’t there be a little more interest, both in the telling and the hearing?? XD

Koushirou’s most excited to update their digivices.

Taichi: Why so blue, Agumon?

Agumon: I shouldn’t have had so many Hawaiian blue energy drinks... but how else did they expect me to fight non stop

Koushirou even has handy dandy charts and images to illustrate. He’s going to get hired somewhere and immediately promoted to CEO, by the CEO.

Patamon: “Hi! I’m the Holy Digimon! Bow before me!”

Jou introduces himself to Takeru and Hikari as the “leader” and tries to convert them to his religion (No-play-only-study-ism) to make them his first acolytes when he inevitably becomes the season’s true final villain. But Gomamon’s all over it.

Gomamon: “You can’t have acolytes until you master maniacal laughter, Jou, didn’t you read ‘Villainy for Dummies’ like I told you to??”

Agumon adorably walks right up to Hikari and asks her if she’s okay and if she feels scared. Hikari says “Agumon’s cute!” Taichi’s face is like “cute? cute?? he’s a dinosaur! dinosaurs are cool!” but he wisely says nothing because you cannot argue with girls about what we think is cute you just cannot

Then Hikari notices something even cuter! Patamon!

Hikari: So cute! I want ten!

Takeru: Sorry, he’s one of a kind and mine!

Hikari: *looks at him* So cute! I want ten!

Takeru: Wait... of me?

Hikari: (u3u)~♥ ﾁｭ

Takeru: (o///o)~♥

love at first sight???? lol

In a nod to the original series, we get a scene of Taichi asking Hikari if she has a Digivice and her being like “oh that thing, I filled it with catnip and gave it to Miko”

Taichi: No digivice! Well I guess this means there’s no way she’s a Chosen Child like us!

Agumon: Infallible logic

Meaning the Zurumon are on the move! this time to FREAKING NASA

Taichi: *most unimpressed voice possible NASA??

I thought hey, it’ll be fine, we’ll just have to fight some more... but

Nasa: *launches a rocket*

The internet:

it’s all just variations of people oh-no-ing in Japanese. A little further down someone just writes “Explosion” in English lol

Due to the weirdness in the digital world that is affecting the human world, a bunch of waterspouts appear in the ocean. Eldradimon’s like “oh bother”

he protec!

Mimi and Palmon rush to comfort each other with a hug.

Jou... immediately gets seasick.

Gomamon: So how’s that maniacal laughter coming along?

Jou: DON’T MAKE ME OPEN MY MOUTH

Awwwww. Point of interest.... Koushirou is barely larger than Hikari x’D

Leomon, for some reason, decides now we must part. He doesn’t think these kids can survive this storm and offers to protect them as they escape. The kids are powerful against evil monsters but weak to weather lol. I’m sure the actual logic in no way was “Now that the rest of the team is back from their pointless stint in the human world we no longer need Leomon to play back-up”

They don’t agree without an argument, but Leomon insists, because he believes the Chosen Children have other important things they are meant to do. We get a cool scene of everyone making their escapes. Sora takes Mimi with her

Taichi and Hikari join Koushirou

And Yamato and Takeru “join” Jou (but really Yamato’s the one calling the shots because Jou’s busy struggling not to pee his pants)

It’s just in the nick of time... before a giant whirlpool seemingly sucks Leomon and Eldradimon into the sea.

Taichi: Oh my god did they just DIE??

Kabuterimon: Don’t look back!

Taichi: I know... we have to respect their sacrifice...

Kabuterimon: Well, that and you might be scarred to see Leomon’s reenactment of Ariel at the bottom of Ursula’s whirlpool

Taichi: huh

(look I think I’m funny and that’s what counts)

Getting all split up like this made me think they were gonna end up split up for reals, but the team manages to stay together for now.

They arrive at a new continent covered in weird spikes! Yamato picks up his digivice like a walkie-talkie and says one word: “Taichi”

it amuses me that he could only bring himself to say “Yagami” for a good while in the beginning but then he finally started saying “Taichi” and now he just can’t stop!!

Anyway he’s alerting the others to the fact that some? of the spikes on the island are actually Tortomon about to attack them. Before going to join Greymon’s attack, Taichi flings Hikari at Koushirou “HERE PROTECT MY SISTER SINCE YOU HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO DO”

jk but seriously... why does Taichi need to be all up in the action? Until now I thought it was something they all had to do to help their partners, because they usually ride on them during battle, but this episode seemed to suggest that Taichi goes out of his way to do it even more than is maybe necessary. Which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, but xD

Reason #1229345894 why the team is better when they’re all together: Mimi is hilarious and SORA HAS A GOSH DARN PERSONALITY. She DOES, folks. We hardly got to see it recently -____- this episode at least lets her react to the others. Ugggh. Irony of ironies, Sora needs more love.

It’s a stampede! Simba! NOOOOO!

Sooo... the battle with the Tortomon goes pretty well but then this guy called Groundramon or something appears and uh... starts to eat them... like it’s pretty visceral y’all o_o le eugh

Taichi is shocked and recalls last episode when he saw Seadramon power up and evolve after eating Ebidramon. He does not choose to mention the time he was eaten by Devimon. EH IT’LL BE FINE I’M SURE THAT WASN’T IMPORTANT ANYWAY

Greymon: Don’t get eaten.

Garurumon: lol same to you

The Agumon/Gabumon bromance is honestly one of the best things about this season. Not that we get a ton of it, but when we do we do I always feel like “yes, that’s Digimon, that’s it right there”

The Digimon rev up to face off with their cannibal and Groundramon quickly decides Ikakkakumon looks the most nutritious. He probably has lots of blubber and meat on him so I guess I’d go for Ikkakumon first too

Ikkakumon: Don’t eat me!

Jou: Wait don’t! He was teaching me how to be cool!!!

Taichi: Eat him! Eat him Groundramon! I can’t let Jou be the cool one!

Yamato: Are you two fighting to see who can reach peak villain status first?

Taichi/Jou: I’m naturally competitive

ka-boom!

Our heroes are blown back by. Takeru quickly runs to check on his big brother who seems to smack his head on a rock...

Yamato: It’s cool. I’m cool. The definition of cool. Ishida Yamato. That’s me.

Sora: Oh no, I think he’s got a concussion.

Takeru: No, that’s how oniichan is on a normal day.

The team starts to feel overwhelmed! That’s when a fire ignites in Taichi’s eyes and he announces the next siege!

Yamato: Taichi...

no but okay what even IS this moment. The episode goes out of its way to show us Yamato reacting to Taichi not giving up. This is a Thing. I don’t know what he’s feeling here - impressed? Happy that Taichi’s able to bring everyone together when they’re feeling defeated? Or is he also recalling how that same desire to never fail almost got him killed and his partner transformed into an evil evolution a few episodes ago?

So like I keep saying I don’t see why we had to split up the team for so long, and for now I stand by that. But one thing’s clear: the show wanted only Yamato around to witness what happened to Taichi. (I mean, Takeru was there too, but he’s a baby xP) And even Yamato doesn’t know everything - we don’t know how much he was actually conscious for. But I feel like, if there was any point to the separation at all, that was it. I hope so anyway. I like the idea of Yamato grappling with how to know when Taichi’s going too far while at the same time really valuing the way Taichi’s able to push them to victory.

Turns out Taichi’s new plan is... even bigger guns!

Pointed directly into Groundramon’s mouth!

Yamato: This is madness.

Taichi: No! This! Is! DIGIMON ADVENTURE:!!!!

Everyone attacks poor Groundramon in the mouth x’D im crying

The combined attacks seem to overload Groundramon and then MetalGreymon launches missiles down his throat, which cause these internal explosions. Uh, gross... like if there’s any time Jou should be puking it’s now

we won by being even more violent than normal! yay us!

Not that this means we get a break because Darknightmon chooses now to make his dramatic return!

They get blown back again

... but I love how adorably protective the big brothers are whenever it happens <3

Yamato and Taichi finally remember they never told the others much about what they’ve been up to recently, other than “we found the holy Digimon.” Now they add “and we found Darknightmon too.” Wow what a level of detail.

I honestly... expected Darknightmon to be interested in Hikari instead of Takeru xP It was a little too predictable so I was glad when he seems to go right for Takeru and Patamon after all.

Patamon, who’s recent hobby has been watching musicals, begins to sing:

Don’t ever kick a dog

because he’s just a pup!

You’d better run for cover

when the pup grows up!

Taichi: Uhh did he not see the part where Gavroche dies??

Yamato: He fell asleep before we got that far.

Angemon!!

Honestly... as a fan of 99 Adventure, Angemon there was SUCH a dramatic thing and... this isn’t. I know, I know, it’s a different show, we do things different in 2020... I just remember the excitement I felt about Angemon’s first apperance though. But, to be fair, although it takes a long time before his second appearance, once it happens Patamon always evolves to Angemon without all the fanfare and it’s just a normal evolution. So... yeah, this all makes sense xP

At least we end on a cliffhanger! What’s gonna happen?? Tune in next week!

So I guess I wasn’t that off about the team splitting up again, I was just wrong about when... next week it looks like they’ll be separated, which, although we just got everyone back together, I’m not upset about as long as each group gets focus. Now that they’re back in the digital world, there’s potential for stuff to happen. But it depends on the groups as well. I do sort of expect this is mainly a “put Taichi and Hikari” on their own maneuver.

Oh, was right about Darknightmon going for Hikari after all xP

My guess is... Angemon’s gonna fight but just not have recovered enough to stay in that form for long, and somehow that results in everyone separating... we’ll see. More importantly...

NANIMON!!!

My relationship with this guy is love-hate! I love to hate him x’D So I’m glad he’s back! Still want to see Piximon and Whamon the most but I’ll take it!

[fymagnificentwomcn]

t’s truly something how all princes/sultans in tmck are so pressed…I get their life isn’t easy, but all that blaming & truly how it can affect everyone’s perception. Murad even accused his mother of faking an assassination attempt on her life, incredible *sarcasm of course*. And Atike was just his cheerleader most of the time, ugh. All that blaming by people who even weren’t there. Thanks for writing that piece!

Aww thank you so much! This piece is my magnum opus I guess lol (Link here:https://fymagnificentwomcn.tumblr.com/post/610970504341405696/no-she-isnt-the-whole-evil-k%C3%B6sem-thing-isnt )

Murad’s angry 24/7 & gets so ridiculous with blame-shifting – he would need a good anger management therapy LBR.

And there’s one scene that portrays his character in nutshell:

Doctor: you cannot drink anymore wine, Your Majesty.

Murad, literally 5 minutes later: Yusuf, bring me wine!

Murad in 1 minute, another example:

Kösem: Don’t marry Silahtar to Atike, you also have another sister and if you do it, it will end in tragedy!

Murad: No worriez, I’ve thought about Gevherhan, I will marry her to Kemankeş ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I mentioned a lot of blame-shifting in my previous posts, but he even at moment began questioning his mum about Gülbahar and whether she truly committed treason (and Gülbahar herself admitted to it).

Even when Atike asked him for permission to take children with her & Kösem to vaqf, he was totally okay with the idea, but later after kidnapping snapped at his mother that it was HER fault for gaving taken his sons there & began threatening her with exile far away. Charming as always.

Honestly, he’s like a broken record. In all his arguments, while Kösem has her logical arguments, his only argument is usually “I’m the only/rightful owner of Ottoman Empire, “I’m the shadow of God on Earth. Like dude do you realise how boring you are???

Don’t forget how mad he got when Kösem wrote to Kemankeş to have a backup plan if Murad died and Bayezid wanted to take the throne, which could have meant danger for other Kösem’s sons. After all, she didn’t take it from nothing, Gülbahar told her about assassination attempt to come & it actually already had happened by the time Murad received the letter. Yes, dude you are not immortal, you could have been killed, and life goes on you know? It doesn’t mean your mother doesn’t love you or is not going to mourn you, but she also needs to take care of your brothers and state ffs. He’s truly obsessed with this idea that after his death life will  (unfortunately in his view) go on – which is also meaningful since Kösem reminded him like two episodes earlier that state was going to remain even with both of them dead. And well we all know the “masterful” idea he conceived just before his death.

And it’s clear how even some of his siblings fear him – Gevherhan was scared immediately following the announcement of Kösem no longer being a regent (especially since he did in a way to put  blame on his mother for recent events to prop himself up, and he was also engaged in state matters at that point). Kasim also immediately fears being locked up in kafes or even executed. Judging by their conversations, despite problems going on, last 10 years were a peaceful time for their family.

As I said, out of all Kösem’s opponents only Handan and Derviş weren’t worse than her, and she was the only main player that never engaged in mass slaughter – Safiye, Halime&Co., Gülbahar&Sinan, Murad, Turhan - all did.

Same with Atike – she was a baby when when her father died, didn’t even spend her early years locked up as Ibrahim…. she’s honestly so blind it’s painful. The scene where she jumps at Kemankeş for trying to talk sense to Ibrahim not to appoint Genie Master as chief judge… please your brother is now acting contrary to Imperial law and it’s asking for further disaster if Cinci increases his influence among ulema by bringing people who pay him into it & it’s good Ibo is controlled in this way… nah, it’s actually necessary. And how you jump from this to your mother I have no idea either. A true performative “activist”, who talks about protecting her brother, but all is limited to talking  & exposing her moral superiority, while it’s not supported by any real actions helping him.

Well, you got your revenge on your mother for killing the husband who despised you, acted against your youngest brothers at that point, and likely was only praying you wouldn’t follow him also into afterlife.

I also forgot to mention one more example of Mu/rat manipulating the narrative – when he tells Atike following the failed dethronement attempt & Kasim’s death that their mother had lied to her and tried to kill him – he was after all put in kafes, he should be aware nobody planned an assassination attempt, bah he KNEW the whole plan from Sinan… and yes, Kösem being so adamant that nothing can happen to Mura/t cost her Kasim in the end.

Atike herself was aware that Mu/rat would have killed her brothers even if the dethronement attempt had not happened as she told him to his face after Kasim’s death and she stated that he had made the decision long ago. Later however she got the letter from Murad informing her who killed Silahtar and she even released Traitor No. 1 Sinan to spite her mum 😂.

I suppose princes at this point led the hardest existence because they were closed in kafes, unable to get decent education&experience or have families (maybe they were allowed to have sex with cariyes, but contraception had to be used or even abortion if the concubine of a sehzade has got pregnant) but at the same time they weren’t certain whether they wouldn’t be killed because the switch to anti-fratricide was pretty new&the times were turbulent. Osman clearly broke Imperial law by getting fetva from military judge to kill Mehmed, and Murad killed the biggest number of Ahmed’s sons obviously (yeah more than in the show because not all princes appeared in MYK, though we don’t know the exact number of Ahmed’s sons, Murad definitely also executed Suleiman, most likely his full brother). I laugh when people go about “rule-breaker” Murad. Wow by getting back to law that has already began to run its course, clap clap.

Murad was king of hypocrisy and it’s also a historical fact. As Halil İnalcık states in his book Ottoman Empire: The Classical Age: “ The tyrannical Murad IV was a habitual drinker and at the same time the most ruthless supporter of the prohibition againt alcohol”. Mu/rat tried to make use of religion in his attempts to drill absolute obedience, but he wasn’t a religious person himself & definitely tried to take from religion what it most suited him, while ignoring other things, e.g. he kept decreasing zakat, aka income tax that goes to charity. A small bit of trivia: apparently he was a big fan of Machiavelli’s The Prince, there were even some rumours that he translated the book himself (we can only imagine he also took from this book what he wanted 🤪 ).

Similarly Turhan manipulated the narrative, also in a hypocritical way – remember her going like: “how many padişahs you killed?” and she was the main force behind Ibo’s death… the moment Ibo told her that she “was a coward who hid behind his mother’s skirts”… it was clear he was doomed. There was explicit anger on Turhan’s side here. Not only because she felt insulted by him, but also because she felt a need to prove both to him and the world that she was capable to be on top without Kösem’s support.  Not to mention all her actions leading to Ibo’s situation, also her ordering Mehmed to sign his dad’s death order was so chilling “I don’t want dad to die”. Well, now let’s play morally pure, especially while murdering elderly (very elderly lbr :p) Haci in again a brutal way, including twisting his neck. It’s not even that she removed a padisah – she actively worked to make him crazier and for his rule to be total failure, it wasn’t even about her, Ibo or Kösem – whole nation suffered because she was impatient to take power into her hands./BTW pity we skipped the time period when they were both Valides and we know both tried to get rid of each other, without harming Mehmed/ And frankly even with Kösem it was a terrible & undeserved backstabbing because also Ibi criticised Turhan for this saying his mother always “loved and protected her, did so much for her” and I doubt Ibo was biased here considering that he was also on bad terms with his mum at that moment.

Later the situation truly calmed down & later princes could live much more peacefully because the practice of killing truly went out of style and also later there were less and less restrictions on princes and they could for example travel abroad with the reigning padişah. For example, Sultan Abdülaziz took princes for a European trip and they even had a chance to meet Queen Victoria.

And I laugh when people blame Kösem for “failing to protect the princes” instead of you know, blame the actual killer. Ahmed truly replenished dynasty, while Murad axed a number of his brothers, at the same time of course used his own propaganda. It is true that Murad executed the favourite of princes, Bayezid, during celebrations following the successful Revan campaign. Similarly, when Kasim was executed someone spread rumours about the prince impregnating a number of concubines & it was before the Baghdad campaign when even setting out on it Murad had to display his “splendour and glory”.

Show-wise I legit one read that Kösem killed Ahmed because she spared Bulbül following Safiye’s attempted coup lmao. It’s not like Ahmed wasn’t there when she made the decision & it’s not like it wasn’t Hümaşah who after all got Yasemin in, and I doubt anyone could oppose an Imperial princess anyway – she would have found another servant. And Bülbül later saved Kösem’s kids, so… scapegoating truly is in some people’s blood lmao.

I love how MYK played with the idea of historical representation & creation of narrative, how people “see” and how different factors might influence their perception & creation of narrative. And also how S2 put into different perspective some stuff from S1. I admit there were some things that back during first watch of MYKS1 made me go WTF? that I later understood when compared/contrasted with MYK S2. It’s clear that they truly planned a lot of the whole show back in S1.

It’s sometimes interesting how narratives may be created and repeated even without evidence supporting it - there is no historical evidence that Kösem took part in Osman’s dethronement, yet it is something that often pops up even in “historical articles” for example. People deduce since Kösem later became Valide quite soon because Mustafa’s (or rather Halime’s) reign didn’t last long, know Şehzade Mustafa’s (Suleiman’s son) story, and some rumours about what Ottoman women did to secure throne for their children, so they see getting rid of one’s stepson to claim throne for one’s child as logical and usual in Ottoman system,  even when there is no proper evidence backing it up. Because it seems natural and logical, so why not make it more spicy? We know next to nothing about Mahfiruz, but there is this “Betty vs Veronica” trope, so suddenly we learn that Mahfiruz was Kösem’s opposite, not politically involved or ambitious, but gentle & sweet, and even details like light hair pop up as opposed to Kösem’s dark hair (sometimes of course it is also extended to good vs. evil). Taken from where, other than fitting a known trope? Or when she’s presented as some sort of Mahidevran vol.2 as having as close relationship with Osman like Mahi did with Mustafa, perfect prince and jealous stepmother Kösem. I know some of the stuff is also derived from Western, orientalist plays, but those are obviously not sources and should not be treated as truth. And sometimes it it even repeated by historians. For example Uluçay, who  was very against Sultanate of Women & pretty much propagated a lot of rumours (and new approach to the period truly changed a lot of how academia writes about these women now). Let us look at this quote:

Taken from: Necdet Sakaoğlu, Famous Ottoman Women.

It’s clear what narrative Uluçay chose for his research.

It’s common practice to sometimes fill in the blanks (and sometimes even change stuff) with known cliches, tropes, and narratives.

It is truly a topic for an extended discussion, so I will stop for now, but when it comes to Ottoman history I do recommend Daniel Piterberg’s Ottoman Tragedy. History and Historography at Play, which shows how the same event may be even differently presented in historical works depending on chosen narrative that is often rooted in current context.

[niuniente]

@writers-block-help-everything​ wanted to have a master post of my current library collection, so here you go, with photos so the books will be easier to find if any of you wants to read/buy them:

1. Spellbound; Magic, Ritual and Witchcraft (Ashmolean Museum, England); Basic book of spells, witchcraft and different rituals in history. Lots of pictures!

2. A History of Medieval Christianity; Prophesy and Order ( Jeffrey Burton Russell & Doughlas W. Lumsden)

3. The Complete Book of Devils and Demons (Dr. Leonard R. N. Ashley). A good beginner book with lots of simple information from here and there if you want to study devilish monsters throughout the globe. 

4. Witchcraft in the Middle Ages (Jeffrey Burton Russell)

5. The Prince of Darkness (Jeffrey Burton Russell) This books contains all basic information of 4 earlier books from Jeffrey Burton Russell about the Devil. 

5. Satan - The Early Christian Tradition (Jeffrey Burton Russell) A book of how early Christian traditions saw the evil and the God in the world,

6. Lucifer - The Devil In The Middle Ages (Jeffrey Burton Russell) A book of how medieval church and different heretic views saw the evil, the Devil and The God. Goes actually all to way to romantic era and covers a bit also Islamic views of the evil. My fave books.

7. The Devil - Perceptions of Evil from Antiquity to Primitive Christianity (Jeffrey  Burton Russell) How non-Christian religions and early Christians saw the Devil and the God

1. Medieval Punishments - The Illustrated History of Torture (William Andrews). This book was published in late 19th century, and it covers ONLY medieval English punishments. It’s not so much about torture than about criminal convictions. Super easy to read and very interesting! Is definitely not as horrible as it sounds by the title.

2. The Secret History of Lucifer (Lynn Picknett). This is more of an occult book to me than history book, but it covers historical religious views of Lucifer. It’s more like one woman’s manifest I think?

3. Witchcraft - Demons, Folklore and Superstition (Lois Martin). VERY basic notebook sized book of the subject.

4. The Witch-hunt in the Early Modern Europe (Brian P. Levack)

5. History of the Devil (Gerald Messadié)

6. Male Witched in Early Modern Europe (Lara Apps & Andrew Gow)

7.  The Witch - A History of Fear from Ancient Times to the Present (Ronald Hutton) This book cover witches from all around the world, so it is very throughout book. Ronald Hutton is one of the leading experts of the history of witchcraft.

8. The Werewolf - Montague Summers. This book covers history of werewolves. Unfortunately, it is very hard to read and the author HAS NOT translated any sources to English. If the source is in Latin, it is in Latin in the book too. Like “Pope XXXNJN 3 said; Latinlatinlatinlatinlatinlatin; and he was absolutely right, as German pastor YYYUT added 5 years later; Germangermangermangerman”.

9. Life in the Medieval City (Frances Gies & Josept Gies)

Then, some obscure monster and paranormal books!

1. The Beast of Bray Road - Tailing Wisconsin’s Werewolf (Linda S. Godfrey) A book covering the famous Bray road Dogman sighting in early 90′s and how things proceed. Linda was a reporter in the area when the incident happen and it started her 25 years long career as a dogman researcher. She’s the world’s leading dogman specialist now.

2. The Michigan Dogman - Werewolves and Other Unknown Canines Across the USA (Linda S. Godfrey) This book contains from cover to cover eyewitness testimonials of Dogmen and other upright walking canines in the USA.

3. Real Wolfmen - True Encounters in Modern America (Linda S. Godfrey) Another super exciting book from Linda covering from cover to cover eyewitness testimonials of Dogmen and other upright walking canines in the USA.

4. American Monsters - A History of Monster Lore, Legend and Sightings in America (Linda S. Godfrey). This book has different short sections for different cryptids in America, together with eyewitness testimonials of said cryptids.

5. The Art of Psychic Protection (Judy Hall) This is a literal handbook how to protect yourself from different energies, people and spirit when you work with spiritual things and encounter spirits.

6. Black Eyed Children (David Weatherly) Black eyed children are a fairly new and rarely encountered cryptid/spirit type, but they are super chilling. They randomly appear and ask to get inside cars, houses, buildings, really trying to coo people to allow them to get inside. This book contains eyewitness cases of these kids with black eyes. I have yet to determine myself what these kids are. My assumption is a demonic entity based on the eyewitnesses’ stories.

7. Poltergeist Over Scotland (Geoff Holder) Recorded poltergeist cases from Scotland.

8. An Exorcist Explains the Demonic (Fr. Gabriele Amorth). This is a personal view of demonic activity and exorcism written by world’s leading Catholic exorcist Father Amorth. This is thus 100% purely Catholic view only. Not what I personally share with Father Amorth but I wanted to understand Catholic’s point of the view of the phenomena.

9. Our Occulted History - Do the Global Elite Conceal Ancient Aliens? (Jim Marrs). I’m not a fan of conspiracy theories. I like to study them occasionally as they are super great source for inspiration and story setting, right? Now, ancient aliens theory has been a favorite of mine since I stumbled upon Erich von Däniken’s books about them when I was 14  (I have 3 of his books) Many spiritual books talk about the same subject, so I do fall into the category of believers, even when I didn’t swallow every single case and evidence. Marss was one of the leading conspiracy theory spoke persons, especially about aliens, so I’m curious to read about his thoughts.

Under read more are Finnish books:

1. Malleus Maleficarum’s Finnish edition.|  2. Suomen pyövelit / Executioners in Finland  | 3. Keskiajan pyövelit / Executioners in Middle-Age  | 4. Noitaäiti / The Witch Mother; A real life case of a Finnish woman who moved to Stockholm, Sweden, as was burned on a stake as a witch during the Witch Craze | 5. Pohjoisen Noidat / The Witched of North; witch hunt and its convictions and legal issues in Sweden-Finland during the Witch Craze | 6. Karjalan räyhähenget / Karelian Poltergeists; Cases of reported poltergeists and beliefs of demons, witches and the devil in South-West Finland (Karelia) area and in East-Finland in 19th century | 7. Paha silmä / Evil Eye; the belief of malicious intentions and powers and protection against them in Finnish culture.

1. Johdatus keskiajan teologiaan / Introduction of Medieval Theology | 2. Suomalaisen kuoleman historia / History of Dying in Finland; belief systems and traditions of death, dying and afterlife in Finnish culture | 3. Musta-Maija ja Kirppu-Kaisa / Black Maija and Flea Kaisa; prostitution and life of a prostitute in 19th century Finland | 4. Kissojen maailmanhistoria / The World History of Cats | 5. Rutto / Plague; the history of plague | 6. Ihmesatujen historya / The History of Wonderful Fairytales; where do fairytales come from and their importance and meaning for societies | 7. Auringonjumalattaren tyttäret / The Daughter of The Sun Goddess; the history of women in Japanese culture.

[themrswallace]

Tub ramblings pt 2:  Good Omens

Okay so just go with me here, I was having a 4AM bath when this sudden memory slapped my wet ass upside it’s left cheek and left a trail of somewhat rational bullcrap in it’s wake.  There is no way I can explain this without someone being offended and I am unbelievably sorry for any upset this causes but it NEEDS to be released unto the fandom because it is steadily melting my brain at the thought of this being canon, easily explained canon and so here we go, fellow hoes.  Vaginas! religiously depicted belonging to women/deities/ancient gods/whathaveyou and worshiped for their ability to bring life into our world, not cause harm/suffering (I mean they can, anything/anyone can cause suffering but for the bible belt it’s beliefs are pretty solid with the whole gives life, there to create, blah blah blah sexist stereotypes that are fucked up and should be curb stomped), pretty much act as God’s vessel, delivery her creations, holding mighty powers/strength/magic/etc. You get the idea, throughout time, Vaginas have been pretty freaking holy, despite the ironic sin stuff that follows, despite that, Vag’s are very much related to positive religion and God herself, creating this vision in my mind where God’s angels (Not Charlies), are all created with that defining feature.  Like lets just play yee old ways of believing, Vagina’s good, Penis evil, only demons have penises or feelings of sexual desire that do not lead to creation of another person, Lust, anything other than “LEMME POKE YOU SO THUS WE CREATE LIL TIMMY” was and to some, still seen as the formidable sin, a negative, bad, evil, something to fear or be fearful of. Only DEMONS, those cast down, know this experience and thus to be cast down means to lose their ability to be considered holy and to stop Demons creating their own blood army by floating down to earth and ask some random guy if he wants to be the Lords next soldier, what does God do? Change that V into a P. why? because the act on the demons part is more “Violent” as I guess media would now claim, you’re not receiving someones seed, you’re jabbing your meat stick into a fleshy hole, the thought process is dehumanizing the vagina in a demons eyes.  Lets get this straight: THESE ARE NOT MY VIEWS! I AM JUST PUTTING A NARRATIVE TO EXPLAIN WHY CANONLY, AZIRAPHALE PROBABLY HAS A VAGINA! DO NOT COME FOR ME BECAUSE I TRIED TO GIVE MPREG A REASON FOR BEING. YOU’RE WELCOME.  Anyway: Penises, evil, demonic, Vaginas, holy, why? because it’s a fucking tv show we’re all obsessed with!  Now, I guess you want me to explain why Crowley is so sweet. Well thats pretty easy: He never lost ALL his humanity, what made him an angel. he got the eyes, the leather, the car, the cock, however, his love for Aziraphale never wavered, and even the years before then, as a demon, there was some piece of Crowley that never left heaven because of....something, Gods plan (NOT YOU, DRAKE), some glitch in the de-angel-ling process or maybe Crowley is just a different type of demon, but despite being one, his love for an angel kept his humanity in somewhat check, maybe he was just always meant to be that one bad guy who was actually pretty chill.  Or it could be a Ying-Yang this, balance of the universe, blah blah.  BUT! It’s been an hour and my rambling means I am still sat here in a freezing cold room, naked, needing clothes yet I am at my desk, basically typing out what will be my cancel post because no doubt, someone will still be upset.  Okay bye

[nikccs]

          *+ .˚ₓ hello new friends ! i’m mini from the 6ix . i’m here to cause trouble 😈 , with my new kid nikoo , neeks , neekeekee , nikoochu . i would’ve been here earlier but #theweedhittoostrong sOoOoOoOO  . . .   like this ( i’ll come love u ) and let’s brainstorm , send each other muse posts , make each other scream and discuss what we’re gonna do to             S  P  I  C  E 🔥  things up around here !  let me know if u prefer discord ! [ 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 !#0644 ]

do  my  eyes  deceive  me  ,  or  did  i  just  see  ( NIKOO MARTINEZ )  getting  out  of  the  car  in  hunnington  ?  i  guess  (  SHE’S )  living  around  (  DENALI HILL )  ,  which  i  could've  guessed  .  hopefully  they  can  keep  their  (  -  SELFISH & -  CYNICAL )  shit  to  theirselves  ,  and  focus  on  being  ( +  AMBITIOUS  &  +  CONNECTED )  to  avoid  any  problems  .  and  for  the  love  of  god  ,  lets  hope  they  don't  talk  about  the  ( HIDDEN  )  thing  . 

BASICS ! 

Full Name: nikoo [ knee - coo ] martinez

Nickname(s): neeks , keeks , neekeekee , nikoochu , kiko , 

Age: 22

Height: 5′2 ft

Date of Birth: january 25th 1997

Zodiac sign: aquarius 

Hogwarts house: slytherin

Ethnicity: mexican

Nationality: american

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Orientation: bisexual

Religion: agnostic-catholic

Tattoos: a cross on her wrist , latin saying down her spine saying ‘ex nihilo nihil fit . camino largo, paso corto.’ ( nothing comes nothing . long road , short road )

Language(s) Spoken: english + spanish

Accent: american 

A LITTLE HISTORY !  [  tw  * abandonment , violence , sexual abuse ]

          nikoo doesn’t know who her parents were . her memory of them becoming a blur with each passing day. from what she could remember , was being left at a random sidewalk at the AGE OF FOUR with the clothes on her back , under pouring rain in miami , florida  . luckily she was standing in front of a home with nice people who said nikoo kept repeating she was waiting for their parents . . . well , her parents never showed up and CPS showed up to put nikoo into the system . 

          you would expect she would end up with a family that loved her bc she was a baby still - - - WRONG !   every family she was placed with found some kind of fault , or their homes would be raided for maltreatment [ think of those horrible ppl that take in kids just for the paycheck ] , nikoo could tell you the many horrible stories from the homes she’s been in . AT SIXTEEN nikoo was at her last foster home , months before . she was left home alone with her fosterr dad , and her usually technique of ignoring him didn’t work . . . and well , things happen 

          DAYS LATER , neeks packed a bag in the middle of the night and left her foster home . she never went back . as in , she became a runaway from the state . living on streets , the couches of strangers . the streets became her home , and eventually at EIGHTEEN , she was living in an apartment with some other people who had nowhere to be . throughout the years , neeks met a guy when she decided to do a CO - OP program through high school in a car garage . so the man treated nikoo like his own . teaching her about parts - - - even involving her in his side business - - - stealing car parts from cars and selling them , specifically high end sports cars . that hustle was covered through the garage . 

          the garage eventually was raided but before that could even happen nikoo discovered a different way to make money . she is hell of resourceful , believing in survival of the fittest and the idea of looking out for yourself . she abandoned the man that helped her out , letting him go down along with his business - - - and nikoo started scamming the people she’s met through dating apps . whether it’s them giving her money , clothes , or paying for something . basically she’s a  SUGAR BABY  without really giving much sugar . that , and she works as a cam girl to earn even more money ( her savings are WILDD )

          the good thing about her past is that she actually excelled in school ! nikoo got her degree in mechanical engineering , along with a songwriting and record diploma . random i know , but she got it , what can i tell you . though she keeps that a secret . technically her whole presence in north carolina is a secret . she lives with her ‘sugar daddy’ in DENALI HILL , whomst she claims is her uncle - - - twice removed bc they look nothing alike . she’s been iin north carolina only for a few years and tells herself it’s just a stepping stone . 

PERSONALITY ! 

          if you’re rich , or somewhat profitable , nikoo will find some way to use you . she’s a kiss ass without coming out to be a kiss ass . you know , she’s just slick about it . she loves to be tested mentally . like if you’re willing to tango , she’s all about it . settling for less is not in her mentality , she wants more , and the best of things because she’s never had it growing up .

          she’s a straight up hustler ok , if there’s anything she can do for money , she’ll do it . she doesn’t like talking much about herself , and if she does , most things she’ll say about herself are lies . she lives a manageable double ( triple ) life , along with working on her masters online , she currently interns at TESLA . and ofc , she loves cars . one day she plans to put together her own custom car . she writes songs on the sides , not for herself , but for other artists and she’s pretty notable . she’s signed with a publishing house so she gets paid to do that too KDFJGHDFKJGH

          to the rest of the world she’s just a mr stewart’s neice from texas , who is staying with him until she gets her feet on the ground with her ‘ modelling gig ‘ . it’s funny because she prefers people to think she was stupid than to actually figure out she’s smart , and also hella promiscuous . unless you’re one of her clients , or paying her for something , she has no interest in you . neeks prefers to be alone . choosing to stay to herself . she’s still the life of the party though , cos you know . . . she can take money out yo pockets , steal that louis wallet , probably hack your account if she wanted too . bitch is smart with computers . 

          if she’s friends with someone , again , they know what she chooses to tell them . but neeks is pretty laid back , chill . kinda hanging personality , though she dresses like she’s about to hit the club every night , rolling up in a nice ass tesla that’s probably paid for by her ‘ favourite uncle ‘ . she’s flightly af . bc of her clients , she doesn’t do relationships , she doesn’t even like to be touched unless she’s aware it’s coming . if you touch her without her knowing , like hugs , or even trying to scare her , she will. . . . maybe , cut you .  

CONNECTIONS ? 

I WANT THEM ALL !!!

PLATONIC , ROMANTIC , ENEMIES , BROTP’S , SEND ME SOME MUSE POSTS AND WE CAN DO THOSE TOO

LET ME KNOW YOU WANNA PLOT AND I WILL BRAINSTORM WITH YOU . I LOVE MAKING PLOTS AND TALKING AND BEING A HOT MESSS