#i might’ve made a discovery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

francixoxoxo · 4 months ago

Text

⋆.✧˚𓇼𝒫ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓁𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝒹 𓆝𓆟

𝐏𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞!𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 𝐗 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲.

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭

Sorry for the wait but i couldnt bear hyping it up and putting out less than my best!! This au is my baby 🤭 @milliesfishes for supporting me through this whole idea!!! Enjoy!!

The sea was entrancing.

She drew you in. She let you believe she was docile, but it wasn’t a lie. She was beautiful and generous, the sea. Frequently kind, but she was suddenly and at a whim cruel.

Billy had been absolutely in love with the sea since boyhood, growing up along the coast with his mother and brother, Joe. About as in love as a man could be with an indescribable force. A force he could not hope to understand. Understanding the sea, in his mind, was accepting that even if you were to know, you couldn’t get. He was all right with that.

Now that the sea seemingly wanted to thrash his body ‘round and drown the life from his lungs, well, he supposed he might’ve deserved it. Billy could see his life stretching before him, similar to the vastness of the same sea threatening to take that life, and frankly? He didn’t like the looks of things. He didn’t like the path he was on, a pirate on a crew of scum who did nothing but take. Take from the sea. Take from women. Take from innocents.

Perhaps, Billy thought, this was the sea gently cutting his thread short before it frayed. Letting him gracefully leave the stage, as a pirate with a reputation for violence despite his true, kind-hearted nature. Letting him exit before the former drowned out the latter.

Perhaps this was the sea embracing him as he had always embraced her.

Just a moment ago Billy had been slamming his fist into Ollinger’s jaw. That dick, Billy thought bitterly, though he didn’t want his last thoughts to be of the scraggly bastard. He’d just been begging for it, ever since he came aboard. He let the older man throw the first punch, but he was a fool to think that Billy wouldn’t fight back.

It all happened very quick. Suddenly, the wooden railing was digging into Billy’s back. He whipped his head over his shoulder, gaping at the waves rushing by the moving boat. He was scrambling to find purchase, to get back to his feet, but Ollinger made it impossible. “Bob, Bob, hey— don’t— Ollinger, stop. Don’t do this—“

Ollinger sneered at Billy, panting like a dog and obviously relishing in the other man’s panick. He snorted, rolling his shoulder to shake off the hand of a crewmate. The tussle was gaining some attention from the other men.

“Hope y’can swim, Kid.” Ollinger spat, shoving Billy into the waters below.

Oh, fresh air was freedom.

You’d certainly get in trouble with your mother for being above the surface, but that seldom worried you anymore. You felt such a powerful sense of freedom, such a compelling desire to do what you were forbidden against.

It felt like discovery.

Yes, sometimes you longed to gush to your many sisters about your findings, the breeze, the beautiful stars and the warmth of the sun. But it felt nice, sometimes, to keep it all to yourself. The secluded beach you’d lay upon, watching the sand run through your fingers— it was for you. You’ve never had anything completely and truly of your own.

Today you weren’t particularly in the mood for the shore of the nearby port town. You were laying out on some rocks a ways away instead. That was the beauty of this thing, the secret you had to yourself— you could do exactly as you pleased!

Well. Exactly as you pleased until it came to men.

You’d slipped underwater from the rocks you were sunning yourself on when the boat approached. Despite what everybody seemed to think, you weren’t that foolish. You knew that a mermaid laying on the rocks was like finding a nice steak in the middle of the desert. The thought irked you, but you couldn’t ignore the myths that every part of your body would sell for plenty in a market.

From what your mother and sisters have told you? Men were monsters. Men’d harpoon a woman like you through the chest before you could open your mouth to speak. You’d been told horror stories about sailors cutting mermaids at the hip, selling their tails and locks of their hair.

But you were certain those stories were fake, conjured by cruel adolescent girls to torment their little sister. Not that you had much of a reason to believe otherwise.

You reminded yourself of that as you held onto the rocks, peeking your eyes out of the water and watching the vessel. It was close enough for you to see the commotion on board; two men having it out, one much broader and younger, but one with an obvious thirst to see the other one bleed. It was in their nature, you supposed.

It was dangerous to be watching so close. Your mother’s reprimanding words rang in your ears. But the boat was moving so slowly, as if the tussle was begging for your eyes on it.

Before you knew it, harmless, boyish punches and wrestling turned into one man being held over the railing. The broader man was falling into the sea, the men aboard shouting their lungs out. With the size of the boat? The height of his fall and the current today? Oh, he hardly had a chance.

You waited a moment. Then another. Your eyes flickered twixt the boat and where the water rippled from the man’s fall, chest heaving with the thumping of your heart. You couldn’t just leave him to drown, you thought as you counted ten seconds underwater. It was obvious the undertow had him. You forgot the old tales about violent men— your conscience outweighed your fear.

You were swimming to him in an instant. He was still trying to swim against the current, poor thing. You wrapped your arms around his middle, clearly shocking him, because he writhed in your arms and turned to look at you with wide eyes. Oh, what pretty eyes he had. The deepest of blues, a pure and clear color, one that struck through your chest and into your heart. Before you knew it, those eyes were fluttering shut, his stiff body going limp in your arms.

Enough staring. You reminded yourself that you were supposed to be saving him.

You swam as fast as your tail could take you, gliding through the water effortlessly. You glanced down at the man, only for a brief moment, distressed to see that his eyes were still closed. God, why were humans so stupidly fragile?

Soon enough you were lifting him onto the shore, even putting the effort to haul him onto the dry sand. Maybe the heat of the sun-warmed grains would help, you thought, eyes wandering to his legs. You felt more calm than you should’ve around a human man.

You leaned over him, folding your glittering tail under yourself. The water in his lungs wouldn’t kill him, you were certain. Just to be sure, you pressed your lips to his, coaxing the fluid from his lungs. Nothing more than curtesy, you told yourself. Only because a kiss from your kind could let a man breath through water. You were careful to wipe it from his chin as he choked it out. You spooked a bit, wondering if the man’d wake, but no. He was still unconscious.

With that comfort, you leaned your face close to him, squinting at his features. He didn’t seem vicious.

You stroked your pointer finger along the slope of his aquiline nose, intrigued. He was quite handsome, really. The set of his mouth and his plush lips, he just seemed kind. Out of curiosity, you pushed your fingernail under his top lip, lifting it and finding that his teeth were not in fact razor-sharp, like your mother had told you. You hummed, pleased.

You couldn’t help stroking the backs of your fingers along his jaw, his forehead, his stubbled cheeks.. you rather liked the rough texture under your skin. Curiously, you leaned your face closer to his, narrowing your eyes at the man.

You’d been told men were dangerous. But this one didn’t seem so bad.

Your hand drifted down to lay over his chest, feeling the strong thump of his heartbeat under your palm. What a relief! Your other elbow rested above his opposite shoulder, your face hovering over his. You brushed your hair off his forehead, the dripping locks falling around your face and onto his. He was certainly more handsome than the mermen where you were from. You didn’t fight the excited smile splitting your lips.

The man’s eyelashes began to flutter, though, and you pushed yourself a bit further above him out of curtesy. His eyes opened a crack, then a bit more upon realizing he wasn’t in fact looking into the sun, but a woman, a beautiful one at that. His blue eyes twinkled, and for a moment he just stared, and you did the same.

Well, what could you say?

“Hey.” The man mumbled, his brows drawing together and a faint smile stretching his features. Oh, he wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous.

You hadn’t moved your hand from his heartbeat, you could feel the rhythm of it accelerating. “Hi.”

“S’ this heaven?” He asked, voice low and gravelly from the saltwater. “You an angel?” His eyes flicked downward, settling on your chest. His dark brows lifted, as if there was something surprising down there, you looked down at yourself. No, nothing special. Though you did notice that he was wearing fabric over his own chest. Maybe a cultural difference.

It wasn’t until the man’s eyes drifted further down—catching a glimpse of the way your hips melted into iridescent scales, a tail of blues, pinks and purples, colors impossible for a man to name— that his blue eyes became buggy, his brows drawing again.

“Or a mermaid?”

Billy was entranced from the moment his eyes fluttered open and you were looming over him.

It was something indescribable. Something about you, some radiant, iridescent glow hanging around you, some unknowable way about you— it was as if just the glimmer in your eyes put a spell on him. You were otherworldly.

The simplest of hellos from you was all he needed to fall head over feet, the sweet flutter of your eyelashes all he needed to be at your whims.

Billy only understood just what it was about you that was so opalescent, so undoubtably esoteric, when he glanced down to see that where your hips would’ve connected to a pair of legs, there was only a tail. A tail full of beautiful scales shimmering colors like stained glass in a cathedral, the sunlight moving over the sleek of them similar to the way the light danced over the waves washing onto the shore.

a tail. A mermaid.

Well, it wasn’t like Billy’s never heard of one. No, quite the opposite. Practically every man on his crew (his crew, the image of Ollinger brought a sour taste to his mouth,) raved about some time or other that they’d encountered a mermaid. Dick claimed to have caught one, but that it slipped away when he turned his back. Jesse said once he heard the melodic voice of one.

Ollinger, that bastard, said that on his old crew, they got one in their fishing nets. Hauled her aboard, had a good cheers, and—

“What’d you even do with her?” Billy had asked, furrowing his brow. It irked him to imagine just what pirates had to do with such majestic creatures, creatures with a heart and a soul just as they had.

Well. Probably a heart and soul of a purer kind. “Well, y’sell the tail, that’s the big one.” A cruel smile had spread over Bob Ollinger’s cheeks, one that dripped with a devilish greed that flashed behind Billy’s eyes like a warning sign. “We cut her straight ‘cross at the belly. Y’shoulda heard her cryin’, Kid, ya woulda gone green over the railing.” Billy certainly felt green then.

Looking up at you now, meeting your enthralling eyes, recalling Ollinger and by association the mortifying chill of saltwater enveloping him, he came to a sure conclusion. “I almost drowned.” Billy breathed.

You just nodded your pretty little head, eyes suddenly round and doey. He was beginning to wonder if he imagined you speaking. Billy went on, voice soft and low, meant only for your ears. “N’ you saved me.”

A shy smile overtook your lips, which he’d dare say were perfectly shaped. “I did.” There was that voice. You could speak. Oh, and something about your timbre was so unbelievably melodic, a lilted and sweet alto. But he tried to stay on track.

“Why?” Billy’s eyebrows drew together, his forehead creasing as he grimaced. He shook his head a bit, daring to rest his calloused hand over your soft one on his chest. It felt a bit like getting dirt on a diamond, his roughened, fishhook-pierced and rope-scathed fingertips over your gentle knuckles. But the warmth of it was something he wasn’t sure he could move away from.

“It just..” You frowned suddenly, those pretty eyes becoming downcast. The very ends of your eyelashes were blonde against your sun-kissed cheeks, he noticed. “Seemed like the right thing to do. I couldn’t leave you there.”

Billy shook his head, swallowing hard. The painful action twisted his face in a wince. “You could’ve.” He murmured, lifting your hand up to his eyes to squint. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Perfectly normal. Though maybe the webbing twixt your fingers was a bit longer, you could’ve passed as a human woman. Besides the long, oval sharpness to your fingernails. Certainly not like razors, but still.

You seemed to be flattered by his foggy-minded curiosity, because you twisted your hand to hold his, your fingers intertwining. “Well. I didn’t want to.” You cooed in a cheerful, nearly teasing voice.

A heart and soul of a purer kind, Billy thought.

He let a lopsided grin overtake his plush lips, and you mirrored him with the sweetest, most unbelievably beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Christ, he barely— no, he didn’t know you at all, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d throw himself back into the tide at your request.

“How’d you get me breathin’ again?” Billy couldn’t help but ask, a shiver running up his spine at the hollow memory. It had been like water invaded every one of his senses, the life choked out of him excruciatingly. How could he possibly have come back from that?

You hummed in amusement, shrugging your shoulders simply, “a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Billy breathed, his brows lifting. You just hummed affirmatively. He supposed he ought not to question it. Though he sorely regretted missing a kiss from you.

Your free hand was curiously inspecting his own hand, his knuckles, the splay of sand-sprayed hair over his exposed forearms. Maybe it was then that Billy realized you were inspecting him just as curiously as he was watching you.

“I’m Billy.” He breathed after a moment. He wasn’t sure why you’d care to know, but it just slipped out. A part of him desperately hoped that name would mean something to you.

You smiled softly, testing how the name felt on your tongue. “Billy.” You repeated. You rather liked the ring of it. You told him your own name in a lilted voice.

“Suits you.” Was all Billy could manage, his eyes greedily drinking you in, trying to commit you to memory. You shifted a bit, leaning a little further down to him, your wet tresses falling around yours and Billys faces like a silky privacy curtain. Oh, your hair smelled like amber and fresh laundry, Billy wondered how that could even be.

But he was beginning to think that questioning any bit of you was moot.

So Billy was content to stare up at you for a few moments, the sea breeze mussing his hair, sand probably finding its way into the dark locks, catching in his eyelashes. “You a daredevil or something?” It was silly of him to say, he knew, but he couldn’t help trying to draw a laugh out of you. A stupid smile overtook his own lips as a giggle spilled from yours.

“What does that mean?” You shook your head, that warm smile pushing your rosy cheeks up and crescenting your bright eyes. Billy’s mind was hazy still, his voice low and a bit slurred as he shrugged. “S’ a little dangerous, for a mermaid t’be up here, don’t y’think?”

You hummed a little thoughtfully, casting a long glance to the sea. The waves were lapping gently against the sand, cresting and falling languidly yet with purpose. “Maybe.” You pressed your lips, brows lifting. “I think it’s worth the risk.”

Billy grunted in acknowledgement, his eyes still flicking over your face, your sun-tanned and freckled shoulders, your dark tresses (poignantly avoiding your breasts peeking from beneath the strands,) and of course your tail. He wasn’t looking at you like an object to buy or sell for his own gain or pleasure. He was looking at you like a sculpture, like a temple of a religion he’d willingly devote his life to, that he’d willingly pray to and worship.

You just had that effect, you supposed. It wasn’t off putting, but it certainly put a silly, girlish feeling in your stomach and a smile on your face. It was a good feeling, how Billy was admiring you.

“I should go.” You murmured, your eyes flicking back to the tide as you tucked some hair behind your ear. Splitting the curtain. You could guess that the boat would come to port in less than an hour, and surely they’d come looking for Billy. “You should wait at the dock for your crew.”

Billy’s brows drew together, suddenly alarmed by the thought of going away from you. “Will I see you again?” His lips parted over his teeth in a grimace, he shook his head. “I don’t mean t’sound…” No. He discarded the idea of apologizing, of letting you slip through his fingers like water.

“I wanna see you again.” Billy murmured, the sincerity in his sapphire eyes striking. You’d absolutely enchanted this man.

You pressed your lips together again. Could you really trust him? Truly, really trust him enough to meet him again, and risk becoming a horror story to be told to some other little girl? Your curiosity would be the death of you, your mother had always warned. “You may.”

A lopsided smile overtook Billy’s lips, his brows raising. It was better than nothing, he supposed. It’d be silly for him to expect a single thing from you; he was only a man, after all, and you were this ethereal, otherworldly woman. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers tenderly.

“Then ‘till I see you again,” Billy mumbled your name nearly reverently, watching as you slipped away from him with a sugar-sweet smile and a twinkle in your eyes. Watching as you disappeared into the tides.

It was very, very possible he’d never see you again. Oh, that thought was like swallowing an anchor. If he never saw you with his own eyes, Billy thought, he’d certainly see you in dreams.

The moment he stepped back onto the Seven Rivers he was met with Bob Ollinger’s scraggly, dog-like face. He was standing beside Jesse, who had a guilty expression. Come to think of it, the whole crew was hardly looking at Billy, like he was a horse with a bad leg or something. Like they all felt guilty for letting Ollinger throw him overboard.

“No hard feelings, Kid?” Ollinger sniffed, curling his ugly lip at Billy. He narrowed his eyes, looking twixt him and Jesse.

“Just a few.” Billy grunted, pushing a hand through his wet hair. Within moments, that strange tension dissolved from the crew, and then came the loads of questions. How had he survived seemed to be the overall sentiment.

Billy could only shrug, give the credit to God. He wasn’t sure why the notion of telling these guys about you felt.. wrong. Perhaps it was his own selfish desire to keep you to himself (though he really never had you,) or perhaps it felt like ratting you out, sending rotten men on your trail. Perhaps both.

A few torturous days passed. Absolutely tortuous.

Billy cast endless longing glances into the waves, hoping with all the strength of his heart that he’d see you. You’d stuck in his mind like glue, enrapturing every crevice with your sweet voice, your kind eyes, your opalescence.

He’d never felt like such a wistful fool. Frankly, he was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of his imagination, that in his dazy, water-logged state he’d been seeing mirages.

In his hopeless effort to hold onto the fleeting memory of you, while the rest of the crew went out drinking in the town pub, Billy stayed back to ‘watch the ship.’ In reality he was slipping off his boots and stuffing his socks into them, rolling up his trousers to mid-calf and walking along the shore.

The moonlight danced on the dark tide, the cold water and sea foam swirling around his feet. The only light was that moonlight, demure and casting the beach in an ethereal glow that was painfully reminiscent of you.

Billy was a fool to think he’d truly see you again, wasn’t he?

He treaded wearily on the sand, his worn boots in hand, his azure eyes flicking twixt the sea and his feet. This must’ve been that siren’s effect, that spell that so many sailors had warned him of. You had such a tight hold on his mind.

Billy thought he was imagining it, those first faint notes. He tried shaking it off, but the further he walked along the water the song only grew louder. An ethereal alto, a voice that could pierce through titanium and straight to a man’s soul.

He began to walk with more purpose. The voice became louder, louder and clearer, your words shining brightly through the notes. He was absolutely certain they were yours.

“And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind,”

“and you know that she will trust you, for you’ve touched her perfect body with her mind.”

“And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon—“

You stopped singing, that beautiful sound dying in your throat as you felt his presence. You shifted on the rock you’d been sitting on, jutting out from the shore and hanging slightly over the tide. Your tail shone under the moonlight, dancing on your scales and casting them nearly silver. No, not silver. Opal. Pale yet full of color. Billy could tell that much, as you twisted to look at him, dark tresses falling over your back.

Billy approached slowly, as if you’d spook and slip through his fingers again. “S’ you.” He breathed, shaking his head in a bit of disbelief. Oh, the smile that overtook your sweet lips lifted the weight off his heart.

“Little old me.” You hummed, eyes crinkling with mirth. Maybe you sung a little tune on purpose. Maybe you just wanted to lure him close, ‘cause you knew that your angelic voice would reel him in like a sunfish on a fishing line.

Billy sat on the ledge of the rock, setting his worn boots on his other side and leaning to you. You were sprawled across the length of the rock, your tail laid out and your upper half held up by your hands behind you. He twisted to you, you turned to look at him.

“I wanted to see you again, too.” You smiled, relishing in the way those puppy-dog eyes twinkled at you.

Billy chuckled a bit, shaking his head again. He was beaming. You wanted to meet him? “Aren’t I lucky?”

“Why would you be lucky?” You furrow your brows, shifting to fold your tail underneath you and scoot beside him. Billy watched you move, shrugging and trying his best to keep his eyes off your body.

“Ain’t like just any man gets the pleasure of your company.” Billy smiled goofily and lopsided, but his tone was smooth.

You hummed thoughtfully, watching him look out to the ocean. “Well, you aren’t just any man.” In his eyes, there’s not a damn thing about him worth your time. But he’s not seeing himself through yours. You find him unbelievably handsome, rugged yet kind. If you thought him anything like the stories of cruel men, why would you be here with him?

You tell him so. Billy smiles shyly, looking down at his lap and his calloused hands. “I hope m’not.”

“If you try not to be, that already means you aren’t. Not deep down.” You coo. That little smile of his grows into a grin as you reach for his hand, turning it over and pressing a smooth little shell into his palm.

In the moonlight, the soft cream looks almost an ethereal blue. Billy turns it over carefully, as if he’ll crack it. The inside is a rich purple, one that fades into a soft lavender at the edges. “F’me?”

“Mhm.” You can’t resist a giggle. You figured the best way to get acquainted would be a little gift. “If you come back, I could give you more.” You add cheekily, your girlish joy practically glowing from you.

Billy laughs a bit. As if he needs any incentive to want to see you. “Y’know, I don’t need any reason t’come back besides seein’ your face.” He chuckles, looking up at you. Christ, you really are gorgeous. More gorgeous when his mind isn’t waterlogged and his eyes aren’t hazy.

Another smile graces your lips. You bow your head, picking at your fingers in your lap. Your lap of shimmering scales— another reminder of how different you are from this man. You can’t help mumbling, “You barely know me.”

“Y’know, that’s a reason t’come back. T’get t’know you.” Billy coos, tilting his head to meet your eyes. When your brows draw sweetly he adds lowly, “I really, really wanna know you.”

A soft sigh escapes your lips. The way he murmurs those words deeply, the sincerity in his eyes, his undeniable interest in you… Oh, what trouble this could get you in!

But those lips, plush and soft, they’d been calling to you. Butterflies scattered across your stomach, an excited smile creeping across your own lips just before you burst forward and kissed him. Immediately his roughened hand came up to gently cradle your face, his forehead creasing as he kissed you with all the tenderness such a rugged man could muster.

Your lips were as close to heaven as he’d ever get, Billy knew.

You filled his every sense as you had for the past week. But this was much more real. He regretted his need for oxygen, one that you apparently didn’t know he had, since you only chased after his lips until they disconnected. Billy chuckled breathlessly.

You leaned away, a bit sheepish. “Sorry.” Billy just shook his head absentmindedly. His blue eyes twinkled with mirth and awe as you went on with a shy glint in your eye. “I’ve never done that before.”

Billy cracked a grin, a snort leaving his nose as he let his hand fall from your cheek to your bare shoulder. His callouses were a welcome sensation on your smooth skin. “You kiddin’ me?” A giggle bubbled past your lips as you shook your head passionately.

“Well, aren’t I lucky?” Billy breathes, repeating himself and wondering if he looked like a fool, with eyes so bright with admiration for you. But who could blame him? He felt as though he was in the presence of an angel. God, if he was your first kiss, he wanted to be your last.

It was a strange feeling. Perhaps an hour ago Billy resigned to never know the whimsical feeling of your attention again. A blessing, to be allowed to touch you. A blessing to know you. A blessing to be here with you.

You were a blessing of your own. The sea had given him one of her daughters, if only for a moment.

135 notes · View notes

gothcsz · 4 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVII.

GIF by darksber

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Obligatory storm chapter.

WORD COUNT: ~13.4k

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

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

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

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

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which he does, obviously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In two days.”

“So what’s the plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently there is such thing as bad press.

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

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

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

Just another part of the fucking job.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles dryly, “Tell me about it.”

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

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

Her father? Probably not so much.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t have much of a choice.”

“You’re better off stayin’ with us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paloma could really die a happy woman in his arms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oops,” she says with a feigned innocence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s romance without a little risk?

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

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

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

What a loaded fucking question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thin. Ice.” He repeats.

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

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

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

She looks up at him. “All clean.”

“You want him to kill me.”

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

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

“That a promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I appreciate you letting me bunker down here.”

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

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

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

“Night daddy.”

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

But it’s serving its purpose right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She loves hearing that coming from him.

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

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

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

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

“Javi?”

“¿Si, muñeca?”

“I need your help with something.”

“What’s that, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she’s already dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His cock springs free, resting heavily against his pelvis.

Her eyes widen, mouth watering.

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

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

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

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

“Where?”

“Donde tú quieras.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The feeling is overwhelming, yet exhilarating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

“I take it as I did a good job?”

“Best I’ve ever had.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s the last thing they need.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Javier finds solace in their sex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you get this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did, I was jus’ more careful.”

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

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

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

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

She revels in the feel of him.

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

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

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

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

“I could stay here all night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Olivia’s a beautiful name.”

“She’s precious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #javier peña fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier peña x ofc #javier pena x ofc #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier pena fic

36 notes · View notes

kakiastro · 2 years ago

Text

How to read your birth chart in a fun way

This is mostly for newbies and beginners

When I first started learning astrology, i joined a lot of Facebook groups & I’ll never forget someone breaking this method down in a post.

I unfortunately can’t remember their name cause it’s been years now but this method always stuck with me; so thank you to that person

I hope it can help someone else out like how it did for me

Car and Road Trip Learning Method

- birth chart is the road trip

- rising/ascendant is the the car model

-chart ruler(ascendant sign planet ruler) is the driver of the car

-sun is the car color

-moon is how you’re feeling about this road trip

-mercury is what you listen to on the radio and what you talk about while on the trip

- Venus is the relaxing and lovely places you’re going to visit

-Mars is the exciting and risk taking things you’re going to do

-Jupiter is the where you’re going to learn new things that shapes your perspective on life

-Saturn is where you might have some hiccups and obstacles but you’ll figure it out and will be fine.

-Uranus is the things you weren’t expecting to happen on this trip and it either made it better or worse

-Pluto is where the most intense but life changing things happened on this trip

-South Node is who you were before this trip and your current outlook on life

-North Node is the overall lessons you learned while on this trip that will shape you for the rest of your life. It’s who you’ve become after this trip

The houses are the different types of road trips you’ll be going on

1h-self discovery or solo road trip; may have planned this road trip on the fly

2h- fancy road trip that might’ve been costly

3h- road trip with sibling and best friends

4h- tracing your roots or going back to your hometown road trip; also family road trip

5h- fun or romantic road trip. Road-trip with your kid(s)

6h-health road trip; needing to get away from people to clear your head. Also could be a co workers trip

7h- close friends or business trip with co business partner. This is romantic getaway with your spouse.

8h-private road trip, you didn’t tell anyone where you were going lol

9h- educational road trip like to the museum

10h- business cooperation trip, a seminar type trip

11h-no destination, you’re just traveling lol, may go with large group of friends

12h- going to a very foreign land; somewhere overseas. Could be spiritual or creative trip

#astrology community #astrology #knowledge #love astrology #astrology birth chart #beginners #astro observations

644 notes · View notes

storiesofaot · 9 days ago

Note

Hello, hello. I hope your day has been treating you well. I come bearing questions from this post. Do you have any details or further ideas regarding Hange's crush on Keith Shadis? How they behaved around him, what the nature of the infatuation was, maybe more on why, etc.

Heey there! 😇 Yes, thank you so much - I had a good day with some tea and gingerbread hehe! Hope your day is going or has been good, too! ✨️

Ooh yes, Keith Shadis, our dear sunken-eyed, bald-headed friend 🤭 I actually did some thinking and rewatching this afternoon, and now I do have some more thoughts about the whole Hange&Shadis thing! (Still feeling gloriously inadequate to actually try doing an analysis on them, but it truly was a lot of fun! 😁)

I have my own personal timeline for Hange in my mind, so I created a comparison with Shadis's time with the Scouts. I don't know if it'll matter that much for the following ramble, but I'll share it anyway :)

In that flashback scene from 3x11 (Chapter 48), we get to hear Shadis himself talking about the time he met Grisha, and sharing some of his beliefs with us. He always had the drive to know what was outside the walls; he felt trapped inside and wasn't too happy about everyone living in "comfort", simply accepting the situation without actually wanting to change anything about it. I think Hange was also always curious about the world beyond the walls. Her focus was on the Titans, yes, but she was equally fascinated by the ocean and all the new discoveries they made in Marley = the world outside of the walls. In that sense, I believe she felt a connection with Shadis, as those were likely the values he advocated for during his time as Commander, and they clearly resonated with her.

But Shadis believed that in order to accomplish something, one had to be special. He wanted to be special, and over time, he was even convinced himself that he was special, and even better than the others? I think, though, that the whole feeling special thing might’ve sparked that little crush Hange had on Shadis. This is just my personal opinion - it’s not really based on anything - but I can imagine that when Hange joined the Military, she was already exceptionally smart but maybe lacked a bit of skill when it came to actual combat?

He might have been the one who saw beyond that "lack" - he recognised her curiosity about the world and her genuine desire to understand things. (We know he’s very good at reading people; we saw it when Eren & Co. were training). So he made Hange feel special in a sense, because, as mentioned above, he believed that only special people could accomplish (great) things. He recognised her potential and might've been the one who allowed her to join the Scouts, maybe even pushed her to get a better fighter, encouraging her so that she could unfold her full potential (a little like he did with Eren, he could've made sure he didn't enter but in the end, he yielded; and we know Hange can be very persistent, too!)

This might be a slightly silly thing to admit, but it's all for the sake of this analysis sooo xD I remember back when I was in secondary school - I must’ve been around 16 - there was one moment where someone made me feel "special" in a way that hadn't happened before. It was just a little, minor, innocent thing, not even worth mentioning (he pretty much just opened the door for me 😂) but it was such a nice gesture. Because it was the first time something like that happened, I guess it especially stood out to me, and I will (always?) associate it with that person.

Bringing this back to KisuHan (lol xD), Shadis might have been the first one to truly see her abilities, to acknowledge her amazing mind and not dismiss her due to the way she appeared or acted? That's where her infatuation with him started; she felt seen and valued, he made her feel special, so her 15/16/17 year old brain crushed hard on him 😁 (and he still had his hair, sooooo xD) I don't know if she actually wanted to feel special, but since it kind of happened, in a sense it made him feel special to her, too?

(Maybe that was also the reason why she seemed truly mad or hurt when he told them the story about Eren and Grisha, a story he had withheld from all of them for so many years. She might have always thought highly of him, and the first little damper was him stepping back from his role as Commander, and the fact that he kept all that information hidden was another big damper?)

Now if you've made it this far - thank you!! (this turned out much longer than I thought it would be lol) I know, I could've just said "Shadis made feel Hange special." but where's the fun in that? 😂 Of course, this is just my personal opinion or explanation, but I'm curious to hear your thoughts on their "relationship", too!

As a farewell, here’s a little photo of our buddy Keith. This was so much fun, thank you sooo much for asking, I really loved thinking about this! 🙌🏼

#hange zoe #keith shadis #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #KisuHan #lol never thought I'd make a post about them xD #kisuhan analysis #hange zoe analysis #ask #starshower1215 #i wasn't sure if i should refer to him as keith but that felt too personal 🤣#that tag should be a trending btw #justice for shadis give that man a wig #i really hope all of this kind of makes sense lol

19 notes · View notes

undercityrezident · 2 months ago

Text

My Thoughts on Echoes of Wisdom

So, I thought I had a decent idea of what I was getting into while playing The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom. While the trailers had given me insight into the gameplay and the basic concepts at play, I didn’t envision the sheer synergy of game philosophies being married here: the old Zelda and the new. That and a dash of real-time Pokemon or Pikmin being added to the recipe.

To add to this, Nintendo and Grezzo certainly made this game a lot deeper and more engrossing a game than I thought it would be. And I’m quite glad for that. I hadn’t gone into this game with the intense level of hype I’ve gone into other Zelda games with because I’ve learned to temper my expectations due to my growing level of cynicism with the gaming industry.

However, while this certainly isn’t some 150-hour juggernaut to play through (though it does come at about the same monetary cost as a few of those—thank you, awful Canadian dollar conversion rates), this doesn’t make it feel any less valuable a gaming experience. It packs a lot into its small package through diversity in design ideas, a well-paced story, and thought into how the devs gave a great deal of power to players in tackling challenges.

In short, this means that this game does a lot of the great things I’ve praised Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom for doing without falling into some of the same pitfalls those games do. Echoes of Wisdom employs much of the same ideas and aesthetics while keeping a core, classic Zelda experience.

Below the cut, I’ll tell you exactly how and why that is. Beware of complete game spoilers from this point forward:

---

Echoes of My Voice

To inform any readers here on the standards that I’ll be measuring this game by, I’ve completed, more or less, everything in the game. I’ve finished the story; collected all the echoes, stamps, and might crystals; upgraded all my equipment; collected all the outfits and accessories, and I’m fairly certain I’ve completed all the quests and side quests. However, I’ve not made every single combination of smoothie, and according to a let’s play of the game I watched, I’ve only missed a few overworld cave chests with some minor items inside.

As often I do with open-world games, I tended to explore the regions to reveal the map and collect goodies before attempting quests in the area. Having done just that, I think my usual method of exploration might’ve minorly taken away from the experience of discovery that comes paired with progressing the story, though that’s less a critique of the game and something I have to resolve with myself as a player.

But compared to the awful consequences of the same exploration tendencies with Tears of the Kingdom where you could spoil huge story points by simply exploring, Echoes of Wisdom, thankfully, keeps such things gated behind proper game progression, allowing players to explore without fear of such things. For open-world games, I think exploration should be either a joy, a curiosity to indulge, or a lead-in to teasing boons that help build anticipation for something to come in the game’s plot. If it ends up becoming a detriment to either story or gameplay, then it’s poor open-world design, plain and simple. But I’m happy to report that this is not a concern with Echoes of Wisdom.

Even with trailers and the like to give some light to the story and gameplay we were getting, I could enjoy this game without feeling too spoiled. That said, if you’re a fan who has yet to play this game, stop reading this commentary and try going into it without watching any trailers or viewing any promotional material. I think this game could’ve been even better for me if I’d gone into it completely blind, as the discoveries of what I could do could’ve hit even harder, though they don’t lack any sort of punch, even with my foreknowledge.

So, for those who need not worry about spoilers and with all the above in mind, let me break down this game bit by bit.

---

Echoes of Worlds Gone By

Echoes of Wisdom certainly draws inspiration from other Zelda games in designing its world, first and foremost from A Link to the Past. One could say that that majority of the core central map is derived from the Super Nintendo classic, with a sort of frame of new content around it both literal and figurative. That’s not to say this world’s map is copy and pasted. Far from it, in fact. But fans of the old game will no doubt recognize features both obvious and subtle.

You will find the ruins of the Eastern and Desert Palaces in their respective places as examples of obvious landmarks. However, something less obvious is how, to the southwest of the castle, there is a grove of trees with a tree stump at the centre. However, you’ll find no flute-playing phantom and a gathering of wild animals engrossed by it, but a heart piece instead: a nice nod and reward to those who saw and appreciate the reference.

However, that’s where most similarities to A Link to the Past end. What once could’ve once been referred to geographically as Death Mountain are now Hebra Mountain and the Holy Mount Lanayru instead, now doffing their rocky exterior for an ice-capped one—not terribly unlike Lorule’s equivalent in A Link Between Worlds. Meanwhile, the new stand-in for the fiery Death Mountain we all know and love from later games comes in the form of Eldin Volcano in the northwest. Zora’s river has now been greatly expanded to include not just a larger river system but also a large oceanic bay it flows into. As well, entirely new regions have been added in the form of Suthorn Woods and the Faron Wetlands, the former perhaps being a very subtle nod to Twilight Princess’s Ordon (being the origin for Link in this game) and the latter being a reference to the southeastern Faron jungles in Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom.

Regardless of where your era of play experience in the Zelda franchise comes from, you’ll probably find something to look at and point and say with all the sincerity of Captain America, “I understood that reference!”

But while geography is all well and good, it’s only one half of the picture when it comes to creating full and real worlds. The other half is its denizens, and I’m happy to report that Echoes of Wisdom has picked up the slack that Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom left unchecked. While this might be an unfair critique or comparison given the massive size differences in maps between the 3D Switch titles and this one, I do sorely believe that the former titles’ worlds could’ve felt so much deeper and richer with greater populations inhabiting them. I completely understand the need for Breath of the Wild to make its Hyrule uninhabited, but I feel Tears of the Kingdom could’ve stood to add some people in various repopulation and reclamation efforts throughout its otherwise empty vistas.

But, focusing on this game, Echoes of Wisdom’s size and population match each other far better. While people aren’t everywhere, I certainly feel like I need to travel a lot shorter distances to find people, whether they be Hylians, Zora, Gorons, Deku Scrubs, or Gerudo. This makes the world feel a bit more lived in, which made me more excited to explore and see who I could meet.

The only thing I can’t say that are improvements over the previous Switch titles is the depth of the cultures. However, neither were they declines in quality. The stories and lore surrounding each area’s culture were fun and characterized each group of people well. But, at the same time, since these areas were scaled down, there was less happening outside of the main quest, giving us fewer opportunities to learn about their associated people and their traditions. And the few side quests there were quite shallow compared to some we completed in the 3D Switch titles. But what we lost in depth, we gained in zany comedy and bits aimed at younger audiences, so I can’t fault it too much.

As for aesthetics in the game and its people, I can see plenty of people being turned off by this game’s art style. Yes, it’s drawn from the same DNA as the Link’s Awakening remake, but I found a lot of charm with that game, and I found the same charm here as well, and then some. I hope that those who focus on the presentation of the game and its world can look past the surface of its apparent childish design and see the depth of emotion it presents, ranging from peaks of comedy to valleys of tragedy. I might not have been hit as hard by this game in critical moments as I was in Tears of the Kingdom, but Echoes of Wisdom still had great moments that leaned into its style very well.

It’s also damn adorable, and that counts for something with me.

Yet, this game didn’t just do cute. It managed to do creepy, as well. Nowhere was this more evident than in the Stilled World. It had a tense, oppressing atmosphere that conveyed the threat that we were dealing with. From the disparate floating patches of slowly dripping world stolen from ours to the petrified, photo-negative-coloured people hung in the air to slowly decay to nothing, even the cute art style did nothing to soften this purple-hued world that reflects the rifts we see marking its entry points Hyrule. Art and colour direction go a long way to convey the foreboding nature of the Stilled World, making it a perfect contrast to the more charming Hyrule we know. Yes, it’s another take on a “Dark World” variant, but it works, as it’s both intrinsically tied to the story and provides a contrasting aesthetic to the bright and sunny Hyrule that stands apart from its contemporaries.

Admittedly, this game isn’t beating the Pokemon comparison allegations with how the Stilled World resembles the Distortion World… not that such a comparison is a bad thing in my eyes.

In any case, this game nails its world design on both sides of the coin. If you’re up for exploring a new Hyrule, I very much endorse exploring this awesome version of it.

---

Echoes of Gameplay

Super Smash Bros aside, this is the closest we’re getting to a Pokemon crossover with the Legend of Zelda, plain and simple. If you know me and my blog, this is absolutely my jam.

I knew we were eschewing the traditional Legend of Zelda sword-and-shield gameplay in favour of Zelda’s summoner-esque style of combat. What I didn’t expect was such a complex system of monsters and battling.

Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s not 15+ types of dense, pseudo-rock-paper-scissors advantages/weaknesses equations like actual Pokemon, but it definitely keeps ideas like that in mind. Whenever you pick up a new echo—and dear lord, there are so many, it’s amazing but also overwhelming at times—you can read a quick blurb about it, not unlike a Pokedex entry, and see its features. Some, like the Darknut line (yes, there are improvements on echoes throughout the game, so some of your faves can get stronger), move slowly but hit hard. Others are fast but hit lightly or frequently. Certain monsters have weaknesses to certain types of damage, like how plant monsters are typically vulnerable to fire. Environmental factors come into play, too. Some beasts only function or cannot function at all in water, while some are amphibious!

While there are some instances where picking echoes for a particular combat scenario is encouraged, I found you can proceed with your favourites for most of the game without too much issue, though you’ll probably feel you need to use more powerful ones as the game goes on for practicality. That said, you can field a variety of favourites for flexibility, not unlike an actual Pokemon team. I greatly enjoyed thinking about what to employ in a situation for best effect, though I often ended up defaulting to a few of my favourites anyway.

In case anyone is interested, I’m one of the many who used Peahats to steamroll through the early game, though I often ended up using Wolfos around that time for their mobility. By mid-game, I had found a great combination in the form of the Ball-and-Chain Trooper and ReDeads: the ReDeads stunning foes while the troopers revved up before attacking was a favourite combination of mine. Towards the end of the game, I found the White Wolfos and their summoned pack alongside a Guay for aerial support was pretty effective as well.

Similarly, I watched a let’s play of someone who used Peahats about 75% of the time throughout the game and absolutely had a ball with it. I think the mark of this game’s success comes in the fact people can approach its combat in so many ways and enjoy it in all those myriad fashions.

Some might complain that this indirect method of combat boils down to summoning your echoes and waiting—or even literally sleeping if you summon a bed and decide to recover your hearts while your minions fight for you—is very uninvolved, uninspiring, or even boring. I can understand how a person might say this, especially toward the beginning of the game while you’re sitting at a vulnerable three or four hearts and only have Zols or Moblins for summons. However, I find the combat becomes so much more dynamic as the game goes on.

In fact, you quickly gain swordfighter form near the beginning of the game, which allows you to get into the fray directly if you want to or if your echoes can’t do the job themselves. I’m glad the swordfighter form is limited though, as I think treating what is usually an infinite resource as finite is a great twist on the Zelda formula. It puts one’s mind through their paces to think things through differently, making the game that much more engaging and differentiating it from other Zelda games. Considering we’re working with a completely different protagonist with entirely unique strengths and weaknesses, it makes complete sense, and it’s a beautiful way of uniting gameplay with characterization.

Unfortunately, I do have to say there were times when I felt the monster AI could’ve used some polish. I can’t be sure if the instances of this were designed around the idea that not all monsters are smart or if it was a flaw in the system, but even when I targeted specific creatures or objects for my echoes to attack or interact with, they sometimes took ages to comply, making timing or precision-based puzzles or encounters a greater pain than they ought to have been. This was a minor source of annoyance from time to time.

As well, some echoes worked in cycles, and if your monster echoes got into an animation or attack cycle that made them completely ineffectual against monsters around them, it could be quite tedious. If you ever picked a Wizzrobe to fight another Wizzrobe, you probably know what I’m talking about with its spell wind-up time.

But, overall, I found the combat experience to be quite satisfying and engrossing. Granted, it taxed the hell out of my brain at times, especially near the end of the game with the final two boss fights: having to evade attacks, summon echoes, and then also toggle on and off swordfighter mode to intervene or attack the boss while my echoes dealt with their minions was a lot to mentally juggle. It was enjoyable, but it sometimes left me a little frenetic.

And this might’ve just been me, but I barely made use of Dampe’s inventions in combat. It felt great to make them as part of his questlines, but deploying and winding them up felt so much slower than simply deploying an echo and having them do the same job faster. This mode of combat felt almost tacked on to the game, an outlier from the bevy of abilities that Tri granted you to the point of feeling out-of-theme.

But while combat was an intrinsic part of the game, I’d say that, in keeping with the wisdom theme of the game, the puzzles were an even bigger and more crucial part. While monsters made up a great deal of your echoes, more mundane—but no less important—object-based echoes made up a significant portion of your echo arsenal. And damn, were they used to great effect.

Both in the isometric top-down and the side-scroller-like 2D sections, the game employed puzzles that forced you to think about everything you had available to you. Yes, I felt quite stupid when I forgot that I had the bind ability a dozen times at the start of the game, but as I discovered the game’s MO with how it expected you to solve puzzles, they became incredibly satisfying to solve with a combination of echoes, bind, and reverse bind—though I will say the latter of those three tended to go unused for long portions of the game for me.

But, having watched another person play this game after I finished it, I was so pleased to discover just how flexible the solutions were. Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom often fostered numerous approaches to problems, though many still expected one kind of solution. However, this game feels like it perfected the art of freeform puzzle solving.

People often refer to Oracle of Ages as having some of the best puzzles in the series, as it was designed to be the puzzle-solving complement to Oracle of Seasons’ combat-focused gameplay. However, I felt that many of Oracle of Ages’ puzzles had solutions that were too obscure or unintuitive. Echoes of Wisdom, in contrast, is a game focused on puzzles (both in and out of combat) where, with very few exceptions (I’m looking at you Eastern Temple…), the puzzles feel very satisfying to solve. While there might be a few that absolutely stumped me for a while, if I looked at it long enough and tried enough solutions, I eventually got it.

That said, on seeing other people solve the same puzzles, I often had that 20/20 hindsight reaction where I wondered “How did I not think of that? That was so simple!” Such is the brilliance of this game in its variety, though I will concede that some echoes (the Flying Tile and the Platboom in particular) do rob a lot of creativity of certain puzzles where traversal is key.

Navigating around the world was also a challenge, and I mean that in a good way. In many games nowadays, climbing a mountain has been made to not feel nearly as daunting as it once did. If it is a challenge, then it’s only so in a cinematic way and not a gameplay one, with curated paths in the form of marked scalable walls or other easy-to-execute controller maneuvers.

In Echoes of Wisdom, scaling mountains, cliffs, walls, and gaps does require some forethought, especially when the game provides some wrinkle in the form of enemies or architecture. This truly makes this game a thinking-person’s game, as everything you do requires some measure of planning and execution, making even world traversal feel validating in some way. This also has the added benefit of giving the world’s fast-travel points even more value than usual, something I think we in the gaming community take for granted now.

Where the features of puzzle-solving and traversal blended beautifully was in the game’s dungeons. Yes, true-to-form traditional Zelda dungeons returned in this game, and I couldn’t have been happier! While most of the dungeons were fairly linear—the exceptions being Jabul Ruins and Faron Temple—I didn’t mind their structures at all. Most dungeons featured a series of great individual sequential puzzle challenges that tested me and my knowledge of the game and what I had available to me very well. How these features and ideas tied into both navigating the dungeon and fighting the bosses of each dungeon were also fantastic and usually very intuitive. While I very much appreciate the idea of dungeons whose entire layout or form is some sort of puzzle itself, Echoes of Wisdom’s dungeons are a variety I love as well.

The fact these dungeons blended the threat of the Stilled World with the traditional perils of delving into classic Zelda dungeons made them even better. A few of them have even been given the “Skull Woods” treatment from A Link to the Past, allowing several points of entry and exit. This, like Skull Woods, gives these dungeons a welcome sense of being tied to the world around it.

I have to say that my favourites are—the first being unsurprising given my love for desert-themed temples—the Gerudo Sanctum and the Lanayru Temple. Both are long, complex, and feature fantastic puzzles that iterate throughout the dungeon. Both also nailed their respective aesthetics, though the same could be said of any of the game’s dungeons.

Returning to the topic of traversal, one criticism I have is how the isometric view leads to some issues of perspective, whether in aiming projectiles, echoes, or in executing jumps. It was only through a video online that I discovered you could press the right stick into the controller to have the view centred above you directly. Whether this instruction was present in the initial tutorials or not, I cannot recall. If it was, it was easily missed on my end.

Another thing that contributed to some frustrations for me was the game’s controls. As with Tears of the Kingdom, I felt like it took too long for me to adjust to the game’s complicated control system. There are so many things you can do and features your character has that it can feel easy to press the wrong button and execute the wrong command all too often. This most often happened to me in combat when I wanted to summon something, and hit bind instead, or when I wanted to switch to a new echo and accidentally hit swordfighter form. This could be less an issue of the game and more of something to do with me, but considering I’ve heard the same from others, I feel like there could be something done to better align the controls to something more convenient or to streamline features somehow.

A lesser, though still often equally frustrating thing I felt when playing was how it was hard to deploy echoes, monsters or objects alike, in the exact spaces you wanted. While the game didn’t force you to move on a grid as it did in Link’s Awakening or other older 2D Zelda games, you generally deployed echoes on an invisible in-game grid that often forced things to spawn in spaces I didn’t intend. When this happened numerous times in a row, despite me repositioning myself many times—or having to muck around in the heat of combat to do so—I definitely found myself grinding my teeth a little bit.

Further, with regards to selecting echoes, this game does slightly improve on Tears of the Kingdom’s menuing issue. While you still generally must scroll through a seemingly endless selection of echoes by the game’s end through the side-scrolling “quick menu,” at least you now have a proper pause menu to equip echoes when you want to. Still, I think a great way to solve this would’ve been a better allocation of controller buttons so that we could’ve had two or three buttons dedicated to multiple echoes rather than only one. Having to swap between echoes constantly due to our limited buttons dedicated to them was a definite pain and one of the biggest flaws in the game.

But, even with these criticisms, I felt like the overall gameplay experience with Echoes of Wisdom was fantastic! Yes, there were moments I absolutely wanted to chuck my controller out the window for repeated issues occurring in crucial moments. But for the great majority of my time spent playing this game, I was very happy. From solving mind-bending puzzles to seeing my army of echoes wreck enemy faces, I thoroughly enjoyed how this game played.

---

Echoes of Music

This game brings its own musical compositions and twists, reflecting its originality but also its ties previous games in the Zelda series. You’ll be hearing new tunes in familiar places, but if you listen closely enough, you’ll hear references and traces to classic tunes associated with those locales. From Hyrule Castle to the Ranch to Kakariko Village, you’ll find notes of familiarity amongst engaging new tracks that, for the most part, fit this game’s tone and mood very well.

youtube

One track I want to bring particular attention to is the overworld track. It’s based on the game’s main theme, which is already a banger. Then, in the second half of the game, once Zelda is free to wander about without concealing her identity, the track is redone with an intro containing an upbeat version of Zelda’s Lullaby before transitioning back into the reprise of the main theme once more. I feel this is a fantastic way of not only varying one of the tracks you’ll be hearing most often but also showcasing the progression of the game’s plot.

Moreover, I’m just happy to have an overworld/field theme that has that bombastic Zelda feel that I’ve been missing since before Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. It truly conveys that grandiose sense of adventure that I adore about Zelda games.

youtube

At the same time, I can’t say the atmospheric pieces aren’t also memorable, as the Stilled World theme is tense, creepy, and subdued, suiting that world and its void-like presence perfectly. It’s certainly a highlight for me as well.

youtube

I have to say, though, my favourites are the new dungeon themes. I’ve always been partial to the music of dungeons, but that’s also meant that I’ve come to expect more of them. Thankfully, this game delivers with them in particular, with my notable favourites being the Gerudo Sanctum and Eldin Temple themes, both of which feature some fantastic violin-work.

It’s safe to say that I’ll be listening to this soundtrack for a while and integrating this game’s tunes into my Zelda D&D campaign.

---

An Echoed Story

For a new, original 2D title, I will admit I was not expecting such revelations relating to overall Zelda lore. Like a lot of one-off Zelda projects, which I had written this game off as being, I expected this game to have a relatively simple plot with a greater focus on gameplay and a reuse of old plot ideas and villains. Such has been Nintendo’s philosophy toward Zelda games for a while, and I expected Echoes of Wisdom to conform to this ideology as well.

Colour me surprised when this game debuted a great story with a whole new villain whose scale I don’t think we’ve ever seen in a Zelda game previously.

Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I do love how we begin the story as many a Zelda game might end: as Link finding Zelda and defeating Ganon to rescue her. This was a great way to not only tutorialize the start of the game but also to introduce us to two of the principal characters while also tying us back to previous Zelda games.

Following a quick escape as Zelda once she’s freed and Link is lost to one of the rifts, we find ourselves finally loose on the world as criminal-branded Zelda, along with her new companion Tri, finding that the rifts can not only take people, but spawn dark imposters of them, a theme we’ll see recurring throughout the game. From there, narratively speaking, we follow a fairly typical Zelda formula: we visit regions and complete dungeons there to help the residents of each area dealing with a particular calamity. Only this time, the calamity is a universal one they’re all dealing with, but with each with a unique wrinkle, courtesy of the rifts’ ability to spawn imposters.

From a surface level, the above formula seems pretty on-brand for Zelda. The main difference is how we go about it. Besides the obvious gameplay differences I listed in a previous section, we also get a brief, simple, though ultimately interesting story involving Zelda and each resident culture from these regions. The first ones we deal with in earnest are the Gerudo and the Zora, with our choice of which of the two to tackle first after we’ve finished our “tutorial” in Suthorn Woods.

I do like the Gerudo’s take on the classic “traitorous vizier” centred storyline, with Facette, who is eventually revealed to be an imposter, giving poor directions to the Gerudo Chieftan, Seera. Meanwhile, Dohna, the chief’s daughter and head of Gerudo soldiers, is attempting to solve problems along with Zelda. Getting a clone reveal of Facette and the subsequent merciless actions by Seera to dispatch the imposter was a great and far more decisive action than I expected from a Zelda NPC. Let’s just say, I’m a fan of both her and Dohna.

Meanwhile, over in Jabul Waters, we have two Zora tribes: the River and Sea Zora. I was stoked to see both types of Zora getting representation in one game. I love the idea of the two contrasting tribes having their own traditions and perspectives through the two chiefs, Dradd and Kushara. Navigating the waters of both Zora Cove and the rivers, not to mention the waters of the chiefs’ tumultuous relationship, was engaging, especially when it came to dealing with the raging Jabu-Jabu, who turned out to be an imposter as well. Having Jabu’s antics be disguised as displeasure at having their den consumed by a rift was a decent red herring for the true cause, though it wasn’t that hard to see what the real deal was.

In the end, having the Zora chiefs reconcile and play their song together to access the den was a heartwarming moment, with that cutscene in particular really driving that point home.

With those two problems resolved, two major rifts sealed, and two of three victims from Hyrule Castle rescued, we brought about the game’s second venture into Hyrule Castle and the mid-game twist. As it turns out, Ganon was never the threat here, as he was just an echo created by something far older and far more malevolent. It’s not Demise, but a being that could be put on par in both age—and potentially power—with the three Golden Goddesses: a void being named Null.

As we learn shortly after this, Null is a being who existed in the nothingness before creation but was dismayed when the goddesses made the world and imprisoned Null inside it. Continuously spawning rifts consuming places and people (something that was established to be happening long before this game began and the canonical reason for this incarnation of Link’s muteness), prompted the Goddesses to create Tri’s people to mend and contain the rifts. Unfortunately, now, Null has now-taken Link and imprisoned the Goddesses in the three lands of their namesakes: Faron, Lanayru, and Eldin. Naturally, it falls to the newly exonerated Zelda, the newly dubbed priestess, to put things right and rescue Link… for a change. Oh, and we also need to free the goddesses to find this “Prime Energy” that might help us.

From there, we choose to attend to any of the three areas first. I chose Faron first, though I feel, in retrospect, Eldin was probably the most natural first choice. Regardless, we got to visit the wetlands and all the Deku Scrubs who, much like the Gorons of Tears of the Kingdom, find themselves amid a cultural addiction. This time, it’s the spider webs spawned by the rifts in their region, which they’re eating as cotton candy on sticks. I’m not sure if this recent trend of addictive foods in Zelda games is indicative of Nintendo taking an active interest in making allegories to help kids say no to drugs, but two such cases in a row can’t be a coincidence. Funnily, this one is also framed as a cautionary tale against following trends blindly, as the Deku Scrubs seem to be epitomizing popular kids trying to stay popular by any means.

Either way, through doing small tasks throughout the region, we managed to access the temple, now swathed in the biggest rift in the region, and tackle the dungeon to take out the latest incarnation of Gohma. While interesting, I feel this regional story is one of the weaker ones in the game due to us not connecting to a particular individual or individuals through it, but all the same, the game’s charm is on full display throughout, with a lot of comedic bits coming through here strongly.

On Eldin Volcano, we have to deal with the fallout of the rifts while helping a newly minted Goron chief in Darston. The poor lad is coming to terms with his new role, relying on the 56 teachings of his recently-passed father in tablet form, leaving him paralyzed with indecision during this unprecedented crisis. Through rescuing two elders and traversing a secret path all chiefs must undertake to reach the volcano’s crater, he gains some level of confidence and recognizes that he must rely on his own perspectives and ideas to become a fully realized chief. While we don’t really get enough time with him to feel like this newfound confidence is fully developed or earned narratively, it’s nice to see the effort made. In any case, I do like him better than Yunobo, effectively his equivalent in terms of role in the 3D Switch games.

Regardless, we take on the Eldin Temple, and after its myriad tense and heated challenges we get to face… holy shit, Volvagia! You’re back! I was not expecting to see a new Volvagia, but it was a fun fight and a good conclusion to the dungeon and the region as a whole.

Lastly, I visited the Holy Mt. Lanayru, by and far the most desolate (even compared to the desert) and least populated area in the game. The only resident there is a Yeti named Conde, easily a contender for the character who wears his heart on his sleeve the most in the entire franchise. With a series of fun and sometimes bittersweet encounters with him as we travel up the mountain, we discover he once had a father who has since passed on and a brother who is travelling the world on an adventure. However, he believes he’s returned as we see something akin to him going up the mountain ahead of Conde. In one of the more, if not the most, heartbreaking moments in the game, we hear—thankfully not see—said supposed brother strike Conde and continue up the mountain.

We follow this unknown yeti into the Stilled World, finding out through a mural that Conde’s brother doesn’t hate him, and he is in fact excited to take him on an adventure someday, leading us with some new motivation (aside from saving the region) to delve into Lanayru Temple and confront the beast. Naturally, we discover that the beast is not Conde’s brother—though I’m as of yet unsure if it's an echo of him or not or just something that resembles him—and defeat them in a great boss battle. Following that, in another touching moment, we get to deliver the good news to Conde, that his brother is still out there adventuring and thinks the world of him.

Finally, with the power of all three goddesses on our side, we make ready to go to the Eternal Forest, but not before Null creates an echo of us, the perfect agent to infiltrate the resting place of the Prime Energy.

After some comical buffoonery of one of the Castle NPCs we rescued earlier in the game and the briefest of conversations with the Deku Tree, we catch up to the echo of Zelda and find that the Prime Energy is nothing less than the Triforce. At this point, I’m unsure if it was named that to throw us off the true nature of the power or if there’s some significance to the “Prime Energy” name. I’ve heard some people speculate that it’s called that so the Triforce can get its name from our companion Tri as a result of her role in this game. If this game sits where I think it does in the timeline, that explanation doesn’t make sense to me, but I’m not too concerned with the logistics of that as far as this game’s plot goes.

In any case, as often happens with the Triforce when someone impure and out-of-balance touches it, it splits—though kudos to the worrisome cutscene where it seems to radiate dark power before stopping and splitting, I appreciate a very tense moment like that—with the Triforce of Power coming to rest with Null’s Zelda echo, Wisdom with Zelda herself, and Courage going to Link imprisoned in the Stilled World. After a brief pursuit through said dimension, we finally get our battle with our echo, and a fun one at that! Once defeated, the Zelda echo retreats into the Null’s main body, a horrifying dark mass, and we finally free Link—I did so in the same way he did us at the start of the game: with a single arrow. Man, I love things coming full circle!

With an awesome cooperative segment with Link through Null’s ghastly body, we finally make our way to the final boss, Null itself, who has a startingly familiar appearance, seeming to have taken on aspects of Tri’s people, who have been largely their jailer for aeons. This seems perfect to me, considering the echo power they possess. Considering, throughout the fight, we see imprisoned members of Tri’s race both in its grasp and throughout its body, this seems like a great way to reveal their true, domineering or even parasitic nature.

The final boss fight was a spectacle and a ton of fun. I loved yanking on Null’s arms, only to have Link leap into a flying spin attack to sever said arm. The whole encounter left me absolutely thrilled as it ended with Link and Zelda both making that final pull to yank the Triforce of Power from Null’s form.

Null’s dying breath rattling with a need for more power to overcome the Goddesses’ perceived wrongdoings against them was fantastic, giving me light chills at the pure hunger and desperation of this primordial being. This is probably one of the best-done villains the franchise has conjured in a long time, and I’m wholly surprised it was devised for a 2D game that probably took a fraction of the time that the 3D games did. While I’ve seen far more complex villains in other media, this is a big step up from the simple, nearly one-dimensional incarnations of Ganon or Ganondorf we’ve seen recently (the exception being Ganondorf’s Wind Waker incarnation—I still think he's fantastic and I hope he gets that level of depth again someday).

We get a bittersweet ending with Tri departing from us as they reminisce on what they’ve learned of the nature of the people in Hyrule, especially in their gratitude toward Zelda. The reprise of the “thank you” notion from earlier in the game hit particularly hard, and I have to say, I had my hand over my heart “aww”-ing in that moment.

With Link and Zelda returning to Castletown, the citizens coming out to celebrate us, including the King and his formerly missing advisors, was wonderful, and getting to see Link speak for the first time since… who knows how long, provoking everyone’s shocked expressions, was a great moment to cap off the story before Zelda’s wistful look into the sky to where Tri vanished. This was only made better by the credits roll showing everyone in the wake of the events—including Conde’s brother coming back in his balloon! Heck yeah—and the final post-credits scene showing the framed Tri Rod enshrined on Zelda’s wall. What a brilliant, heartfelt ending!

As a story, Echoes of Wisdom wasn’t an epic for the ages, but it was a story told wonderfully and a return to form after some worrisome practices had crept into Zelda’s storytelling in the last two games. This game saw the—heh—wisdom in correcting previous games’ errors and opted to design their world and gameplay to cooperate with their story. While it’s not as narratively innovative as other games I’ve seen and played, it’s good to see the Zelda series bouncing back in this department.

In terms of characterization, Princess Zelda, of course, suffers from Zelda protagonist syndrome in that they don’t get much characterization besides a few great expressions drawn on her face during key moments. That said, such is a price to pay for seeing our girl finally get to be the active agent in the legend of her namesake. This doesn’t lessen the poignant emotions I felt at the end of the game with Zelda’s sadness on Tri’s departure. Like the departure of companions of Navi, Midna, and Fi from Link before, sometimes, we don’t need to speech to know there’s deep-rooted feelings there.

And on Tri’s side of things, I appreciate Tri having been characterized as a being unfamiliar with Hyrulean traditions, expressions, emotions, and ideas. It gave her a few funny and interesting moments to dissect the nature of human emotions involved in this game, not to mention the aforementioned “thank you” moment at the end.

Besides this, supporting characters got to have a few moments here and there, but they were few and fleeting and rarely recurred outside their regions besides when we revisited them for additional side quests. Still, the fact they’re there and had an impact made the story and world feel just that bit more whole than it otherwise could’ve been.

Overall, this game’s story was a wonderful surprise, and I’ll be continuing to mull it over time goes on. And I’ll likely learn and gain new perspectives on it as I consume more media about the game in the near future.

---

A Reflected Echo

So, in the wake of the Echoes of Wisdom and all these reflections on it, what’s my final verdict on it?

While I’ve had plenty to say about what the game needs to do to improve, I feel all my complaints are rather diminutive in the face of its accomplishments. It looks great, sounds great, plays great, tells a wonderful story, and does fun things both new and old that blend the best of old and new philosophies in the Zelda franchise. This marriage of ideas is something I hope Nintendo and its partners iterate on to create better and ever-evolving Zelda games.

Nintendo seems to be learning from some of its mistakes in Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, and I’m truly grateful for that. In some ways, it’s still not quite up to the standards other games set in the industry, but in other ways, it exceeds them. So much attention to detail and quality has clearly been paid to this game, and I hope to see that attention continue to help refine the series further.

In the end, I’m glad Zelda’s first outing as a proper protagonist went so well. There was an underlying fear I had going into this game that the game wouldn’t receive the attention and love it deserved from the developers because it didn’t feature Link or because it wasn’t a proper 3D Zelda game. In the wake of Princess Peach: Showtime being received less-than-favourably, I couldn’t put the worrisome idea that Echoes of Wisdom could suffer a similar fate. Thankfully, I was proven wrong, and Zelda got to be the hero she deserved to be after carrying the franchise’s title decades.

Well done, Princess Zelda! You saved Hyrule, the world, and have set a new precedent for your character moving forward.

Now, after that final segment of the game leading up to the final boss battle, not to mention the battle itself, Nintendo has demonstrated that they can make a co-op Legend of Zelda game featuring both Link and the titular princess. I’m expecting you to come up with something great for us, devs! My Zelink-shipping-heart is depending on it!

#The Legend of Zelda #Echoes of Wisdom #EoW #Legend of Zelda #Princess Zelda #EoW Spoilers #Echoes of Wisdom Spoilers #It's finally done!#I'll be honest #given this was a shorter game #I figured that this review wouldn't get this long #But I guess I had a lot to say... again #Still I think this game deserves a lot of praise #And I hope they keep going this direction for future Zelda games

21 notes · View notes

fan-dweeb · 11 months ago

Note

(large spoiler) Ever think that quirkless Keigo is just gonna keep going with his model career?? Like he's not a pro hero anymore, so he just keeps the modeling gig?? I wanna know your thoughts on this lmao

Hii!! Small disclaimer, I’m actually not caught up with the anime, let alone the manga, at all, so most of what I say is based on snippets I get from fanfics and meta lmao

Hmmm this is really interesting. Short answer: I think with the way that Keigo has finally been set free (symbolically with losing his quirk, and literally from the HPSC (I think)), he’ll probably stop everything else related to Hawk’s job as well.

Slightly longer answer:

From Horikoshi’s perspective, Keigo has already served his original purpose as a character so it wouldn’t really make a difference either way canonically. If he does intend to have those ‘5 years from now’ snapshot, I feel like Keigo will be overseas travelling or something rather than modelling though, if just to be consistent with his theme of being set free. If not as a personal choice, ‘do it for the plot’ lmao. I do mean this quite literally though, because now he’s got so much potential for the ‘self-discovery slice-of-life’.

,,,, but I personally think this is a bit of a cop out choice for Keigo’s future.

I’m not gonna be the analyst who says ‘he never had a chance to make his own choices’ because technically he did. This doesn’t mean he made a good one, but if you step away from popularised fanon, he did agree to going with the HPSC because he wants to be a Hero and not because of his mum. This isn’t so much that I haven’t ‘read between the lines’, but that he never once looked at his mum or made reference to what would happen to his mum if he followed the HPSC. Unless ‘reading between the lines’ include fabricating entire dialogues under an assumption that Hawks was suppressing his memories, I think it’s safer to assume he just couldn’t care less loll. But that’s the thing; his whole life revolved around Heroes, whether as Keigo or as Hawks. Now that it’s been brutally and suddenly ripped out of his hands and NOT in the form of death like he was probably expecting? He has to find something else to do, whether it be modelling or travelling or being a librarian or whatever,,,,, that is, if we make an assumption that he can’t keep being a Hero.

Look, we know he wants to help people. Some might even say he’s kind (that might’ve been drilled out of it by HPSC’s cold blooded training, but hey, maybe it’s just buried really, really deep inside). If we look at this not from a story writing perspective but purely from the character Keigo’s perspective (a bit counter intuitive, I know but bear with me), I honestly think at some point in the far future he might try to pursue a career in Heroism/ the police dpt / the fire dpt (hAH irony)/ some kind of physically-inclined job that traditionally seeks to help people. I think most people tend to stick to things that feel familiar with them even if it’s an unconscious decision.

So how does this link to whether he continues modelling? (because I’ve totally been building up to a point and not just going off on a tangent lmfao)

I think a lot of the fandom sees modelling as Evil, whether this be because of the horror stories of modelling in real life, because of an understanding of mutant quirk discrimination, wing kinks, and thinking Hawks definitely didn’t like being seen in that light, or because of some mixture of other reasons. And I think that’s true in the sense that it probably wasn’t what Keigo had in mind when he first signed up to being a Hero.

With that said, I’ve seen a particularly well written fanfic (I forgot which tbh) where Hawks is explaining the importance of modelling in promoting a sense of safety in civilians, especially for Heroes with anthromorphic quirks, outside of just gaining popularity. Which I think is a really fresh and extremely valid argument. As such, modelling could be a very nice supplement to him regaining popularity or at least, regain familiarity with both the general public but also his roots of inspiring confidence and safety if he decides to pursue any of the jobs I’ve mentioned above.

There is a counter argument, especially for Keigo being a Hero, that the quirkist ideas are so ingrained him (subconsciously or otherwise by the HPSC) that being a Hero again, or just doing any job at all without a quirk probably never crossed his mind. And if he wanted to keep up with helping people, there are a multitude of other jobs he could do. (Which modelling still doesn’t quite fit but ehh maybe as encouragement to/ empowerment of quirkless people?). But, I think this is a rather naive and simplistic analysis of Hawk’s and Keigo’s character of a person too deep into fanon.

If there’s one thing Hawks fans can agree on, please let it be that he’s really freaking complex.

He’s seen the worst and the best of society. He’d just about experienced every facet of society possible as a person in the bnha universe besides being an Average Joe. And now, he’s about to head into the small undiscovered area of quirklessness. (We as readers get a bit of this from Izuku’s POV, but for Keigo this is about as novel as it gets). Speaking as a writer, whether modelling is part of that experience remains entirely on what you want to explore with Keigo as a character.

Lmk what you guys think as well!! (in comments/ tags/ dm/ asks, all are ok :D )

(note: apologies for the barely organised word vomit and non-answer at the end, this was typed impulsively from my phone lmao)

30 notes · View notes

kaiyves-backup · 2 months ago

Text

When they spotted it, there was no mistaking what they were looking at: a boot melting out of the ice. As they drew closer, they could tell the cracked leather was old and worn, and the sole was studded and bracketed with the diamond-patterned steel hobnails of a bygone era of climbing.  

In September, on the broad expanse of the Central Rongbuk Glacier, below the north face of Mount Everest, a National Geographic documentary team that included the photographer and director Jimmy Chin, along with filmmakers and climbers Erich Roepke and Mark Fisher, examined the boot more closely. Inside, they discovered a foot, remains that they instantly recognized as belonging to Andrew Comyn Irvine, or Sandy, as he was known, who vanished 100 years ago with the famed climber George Mallory.

“I lifted up the sock,” Chin says, describing the moment, “and there’s a red label that has A.C. IRVINE stitched into it.” Chin says he and his companions recognized the significance of the moment in unison. “We were all literally running in circles dropping F-bombs.”

Irvine and Mallory were last seen on June 8, 1924, while attempting to become the first people to reach the top of the world’s highest peak. The question of whether they had summited has endured as the greatest climbing mystery of all time. If Irvine and Mallory succeeded, their feat would have come some 29 years before Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary finally conquered Everest. 

Mallory’s remains were located in 1999, while the whereabouts of Irvine’s were unknown. “It's the first real evidence of where Sandy ended up,” says Chin of the discovery. “A lot of theories have been put out there.” He hopes the discovery helps explain what happened on the mountain in 1924, and brings some closure to Irvine’s relatives who revere him still. “When someone disappears and there’s no evidence of what happened to them, it can be really challenging for families. And just having some definitive information of where Sandy might’ve ended up is certainly [helpful], and also a big clue for the climbing community as to what happened.”

#news #OH MY GOD #Everest #history #exploration #a poetry as old as the world #mysteries

7 notes · View notes

miscellaneousjay · 2 months ago

Text

DESCENDANTS RANT!!!!

In other news, after exploring the Anti Bal and Bevie hashtags on here and revisiting how Mal was pre-D1 (“Isle of The Lost” book), I am now a Bevie shipper and I feel like Evie should’ve been leader of the Core Four…or Terrific Three if Mal decided to stay on the Isle indefinitely and opted out of accountability and therapy.

Whoever said that Mal should’ve just traveled for a little bit, I agree: Mal should’ve pulled an Uma in the middle of D2 and went on a journey of self-discovery. She could’ve dropped the pressure, the lies, the mistrust, and the fear that she built all of her relationships on, essentially did her own version of therapy, freed herself from the mental, emotional, and psychological influence of Maleficent, and really got right with herself in order to get right with everyone around her and take righting her wrongs seriously as the first step of EARNING the trust of the people she cares about. Like, let’s not get it twisted: Maleficent II was top dog BULLY of the Isle! Having read the first book in the series, I do remember that it is canon that she emotionally and physically abused Carlos and Evie, she got Evie and Grimhilde banished for 10 years, and I’m pretty sure Jay was only her friend out of fear that Mal could and would sic Maleficent on him and Jafar the same way she did Evie and EQ. He ain’t have time for that! He was really only her friend out of self preservation. That being said, if either of the Core 4 VK girlies had to end up with Prince Ben, it should’ve been Evie.

Unlike Mal, Evie was actually raised by EQ to not only be a villain, but to also be a princess and later on a queen. I dare say her upbringing was similar to Audrey’s. The difference between the two is, that Evie was humbled early in life by growing up destitute on a crime-ridden island where no one cared who you were and what your title is. Everyone is broke, hungry, and fighting for resources. Audrey grew up having, wanting for nothing, spoiled. She’s used to things going her way. Irdk how attentive and straightforward Book!Ben is because, while I haven’t read past the first book yet, I have seen all of the movies and he didn’t seem to realize how rude Audrey really was to people. However, Book!Ben did let us know that he wasn’t feeling her like that and Movie!Ben used Mal spelling him as a way to break up with her…instead of just telling her to her face how he really felt. This would’ve given them the clean break up that they both deserved. They might’ve remained friends after that or stopped being friends totally until she got her attitude in check (the way she made Jane feel even more insecure about herself was foul). In contrast, after goodness classes (therapy) and unlearning certain Isle social behaviors either the easy way or the hard way, Evie made genuine connections with people and the bond between her and the other C4 members grew stronger because she was kind to and respected everyone. So much so, that she worked her way up to being Ben’s Royal Advisor and opened her own boutique…where everyone was going for outfits! Like, she literally and effortlessly became everything that they wanted Mal to evolve into, but she really couldn’t rise to the challenge because everything was always about HER and what SHE wanted.

Lastly, Evie is just as much witch as Mal or even Uma! I would’ve loved to see her do some major mirror sorcery (portals, beauty, etc.).

P.S. Evie, Uma, and Audrey def would’ve gotten along off the strength of them all being Mal’s victims at one point in time.👑

16 notes · View notes

eliteseven · 3 months ago

Note

idk what possessed me this week but i'm more hyperfixated with shart than normal... so.. do you have any more shadowheart headcannon? i adore your headcannon, they always make me more "jsjdjshdj god i love her (shadowheart) so much more... *sighs". it can be about consonance, NLS, the game! anything. thank you and take care :)

Aww, thank you, I would love to! 🥰 Sorry this took a bit! I shared a couple that make me smile from both!

NLS:

-Shadowheart notices how nervous Tav gets when they return to patriar events (either to be honored for something or bc Wyll invited them)- and she spends the evening distracting and comforting Tav in whatever ways she can. Holding her hand, sneaking her away to steal a kiss or two, dancing with her, pulling her into the corner to gossip in her ear…she can read when Tav is uneasy and just steps in as her lover and best friend 🥰

-Shadowheart becoming good with kids is so important to me. Not that she wouldn’t be- I think her Sharran past might’ve made her hesitant to show her true colors, at first. She’s inherently sweet and playful, it just takes a while to unlearn the guards she put up as a Sharran. But I HC that there’s a group of kids who play somewhat near the cottage in the spring and summer months. And they are absolutely SMITTEN with her 😭💕 bringing her flowers and toys, trinkets to win her attention. I mean, the pretty half elf lady with LOTS of cool animals??? Emmeline probably bakes just for them, and that wins Shadowheart even more popularity points. I just think she deserves to be adored by all 🥰 and this gets her thinking about having a child of her own with Serena!

-I think Shadowheart might enjoy art! I feel like she didn’t exactly have time for hobbies and self discovery was…not exactly encouraged in the cloister. But Serena notices she’s very meticulous, her dexterity is good…so she gifts her a set of paints and a canvas. And Shadowheart is probably awful, for a time. But imagine the fun they’d have? Paint wars (painting each other 👀), sharing their laughable attempts at painting the landscape outside the cottage. Setting up the canvas outside on a sunny day, wine in hand, Serena lounging a few feet away with Buttons and Scratch under the sunshine? It would be so calming for her. And I think she’d get pretty good, tbh.

Consonance:

-Tav is Shadowheart’s biggest fan 🥰 while I do mean that in the cutesy couple way, I also mean that she was genuinely a fan before meeting her. And now she gets to live with her. So, in everyday pedestrian moments, like when Jen sings to herself in the shower…Tav is trying SO hard to rein in those giddy schoolgirl emotions lmao. Shads just…toweling herself off and laughing softly when she sees that Tav is a PUDDLE in the doorway 🫠💕 the novelty never dies, for Tav. Shadowheart is amused and a little flattered. She loves singing for her girl ☺️

-Not to spoil this but Serena is gonna surprise Jen with an animal at some point in my outline for pt. 2. I’m thinking a kitten 🥹 it will be the love of Shadowheart’s life (alongside Buttons….and Serena😅). She’s going to be so excited and giddy like a little kid. It will be very cute.

-Emmeline knitting some ugly sweaters for Shadowheart and Tav over the holidays!! Tav loves hers and wears it unironically. Shadowheart is always touched by how much Tav loves Emmeline. She hates the sweaters but obliges. She thinks they ruin her cool girl unaffected rocker vibe, and she’s right. She looks adorable 😅

-Jen and Isobel’s friendship is my fave, as we know. Latest development in my daydreaming: Isobel helping Shads pick an engagement ring and helping her plan a surprise proposal 🥹 Isobel telling Shads how proud she is that she got herself out of Shar’s grasp… they planned to be in each other’s weddings as little girls.

-Shadowheart fiercely loathing Tav’s father and being incredibly protective of her. It’s a side of her we haven’t seen yet and I’m so excited. She learned, from her dealings with Shar. And she will protect Tav with her life, just like Tav would for her. I think it adds a really nice depth to her and I’m excited for you to see ferally protective shadowheart!!!

#my hcs #consonance fic #nls series #oc: serena tavyndír #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #ask #beforthestorm

18 notes · View notes

chirpybirdy · 4 months ago

Text

hboww2rewatch week 9 prompt which is NOT late at all what are you talking about...

silly -> horny fic about snafu being a vampire. he'd be so cute as a little bat. so cute. the idea has me sobbing so hard the only thing that made me stop was writing bloodsucking.

“Where is Corporal Shelton?”

Sledgehammer looks all around at all the other marines getting their things as clean as they can before they go on the move. Snafu is obviously not one of them, and Sledgehammer turns to the sky—his gaze somehow more searching when he’s looking straight up at the thin rays of sunlight streaming through the clouds. “He is around here somewhere, sir.”

“He better be here when we move out.”

“Yes, sir.” Sledgehammer affirms, absentmindedly checking his pockets for signs of his corporal.

The officer rolls his eyes and leaves. Sledgehammer peeks inside his breast pocket where he had previously kept his pocket bible. He gasps in quiet, false shock at the fuzzy little bat which has made his bible’s old home it’s roost.

A voice sounds in his head, Shut the fuck up, Sledgehammer, I’m trying to sleep in here.

“Well, it’s my pocket you’re sleeping in." Eugene tells him. "And you look adorable.”

So little had changed when Snafu became a vampire that neither Snafu nor Sledgehammer could even be sure on the specifics of it happening. He took care to always have the raincoat with the least amount of holes (he had been doing that already). He slept most of the day (he was always the laziest). He was a bloodsucker (and a fucking asshole). His eyes were yellow (but not all the time).

They had discussed bringing up Snafu’s vampirism to the officers, but Snafu made it clear he would never go for it. “No way. You think I’m lucky enough to be the first fucking vampire in this war? Does this island have enough bats for me to blend in? I’m staying right in your damn pocket in the daytime until the war is over.”

Halfway into the night, and it’s Sledgehammer’s turn on watch. They are a professional pair, and that means they find a way to eat on as regular a schedule they can manage. As they switch, Snafu mumbles out which foxhole he’s hitting tonight as Snafu knows they’re asleep in that one. They’ve done this before, but things could go wrong anytime and tonight some worry makes Eugene grab his arm.

“Don’t,” he asks.

Snafu says nothing. What’s there to say? I gotta eat? You can’t watch the line if I’m drinking your blood? Alright, Sledgehammer, I’ll starve? Lucky replacements; a little catnap won’t kill them tonight. Snafu flies into their hole, arriving just in time to cover an infiltrator’s mouth with one hand and shred his shirt collar with the other. His claws cut into the man’s skin as well, and Snafu grins at Sledgehammer’s past worry that bite marks from his retractable canines would give him away.

Blood from the ravished neck of a dying man is delicious and Snafu feeds until his meal’s struggling finally wakes the replacements. And then, in the confusion of the dark, Snafu vanishes into his bat form moments before they attack.

Snafu speeds back into his foxhole where Sledgehammer is still watching the line. The other marine practically falls over in relief when Snafu flits around him in a celebratory after-meal dance. Snafu turns back into a human and flops down next to Sledgehammer. “Worked out, Sledgehammer,” he whispers. It doesn’t always work out. Sometimes he doesn’t get to eat, and he killed one of their own once. “I might’ve even saved some boots tonight.”

Sledgehammer’s heartbeat slows down a little at the news, but picks up again when he glances over and sees Snafu’s face. Snafu wonders what he sees. He’s licked his fangs clean, but he knows his face is wet with blood.

Sledgehammer doesn’t stare or nothing. He turns his trained eyes to the shitty scenery and watches the damn line. His professionalism gets Snafu going. He’s got thin wrists and the moonlight makes him blue. His hands send blood just that little bit faster to his trigger finger with the tension from holding his gun. “How about a little taste before bed, Sledgehammer?” Snafu murmurs, sliding closer to his little helper.

Sledgehammer nods and turns his hips slightly—still watching the line on his knees with his chest against the mud and his arms bent in the dirt. Snafu feels mindless from how far his bloodsucking teeth extend as he carefully unties Sledgehammer’s pants. He sidles up danger-close to Sledgehammer’s dick and Sledgehammer moves his legs to give Snafu as much room as he can manage. His weight loss and lack of underwear are the best help, but Snafu likes when Sledgehammer opens his legs for him. He likes it so much, he again tonight only licks over his femoral artery instead of biting into it. Just a little lower, then, and his tongue runs over the puncture wounds on Eugene’s inner thigh that he tries real hard not to reopen every night. Sledgehammer’s heart races and Snafu thinks he might hear him say, “just a little,” before Snafu bites into him.

Snafu sucks on his blood, and on the meat of his thigh, and runs his hands gently up and down the backs of Eugene’s legs. He’s careful not to tear at the man’s pants with his claws, already so thin and ripped from living here in hell.

Sledgehammer inhales and exhales slowly, quietly. Snafu takes out his fangs and stays were he is, lapping at the odd spurts of blood as Eugene twitches against him until the blood finally stops. It’s nearly morning now, and Snafu ties up Sledgehammer’s pants, re-secures his own raincoat, and thinks about how nice it is to be a monster.

#my writing #hboww2rewatch #im going to do all ten prompts because i can and time isnt real when youre jobless

8 notes · View notes

bow-of-aros · 1 month ago

Text

Day Twenty-Five: New Discovery

Summary:

When Jacobi had agreed to help Maxwell test out her new AI powered medical robot, he did NOT think that it would end up like this.

Hey folks! Jacobi and Maxwell is a pair that is so special and important to me. Maxwell is evil and Jacobi supports Maxwell's rights AND Maxwell's wrongs. Hope that y'all enjoy!! <33

“Alright Daniel, now all you need to do is stand still and let the AI do its job.”

Maxwell stood back, tablet in hand as the frankly terrifying robot made its was towards Jacobi. For their most recent movie night, Jacobi had made the egregious mistake of choosing Big Hero Six because he’d thought that Maxwell would enjoy all the robotic shit in it.

And she had. A lot.

So much so, that she had spent the past week recreating everything she’d seen in the lab.

The past few days had been dedicated to her own improved version of Baymax, a robot who could do a full-body scan of a patient in seconds and determine exactly what was wrong with them and the best course of action.

It was actually a really fucking good idea. It’s just that Baymax wasn’t as soft and cuddly as he’d been in the movie.

“Uh, Alana?” He couldn’t help but cringe back when the thing took a step towards him, “Are you sure that he isn’t going to be causing me harm instead of fixing me? Oh, and also, did you have to cut me?!”

Jacobi held out his still bleeding arm, waving it at Maxwell like he was going to elicit any sort of sympathy.

She doesn’t even look up from her tablet, “Yes, I did.”

The robot suddenly lunges forward and clamps its hand around Jacobi’s wrist and Jacobi will deny the shriek he let out until his dying day. It remains still for a moment, and he very seriously considers the fact that he might have to start disarming bombs literally single-handedly when it starts speaking.

“Damage: Surface wound to the flesh. Bleeding: Minimal. Recommended treatment: Soap and water followed by a Band-Aid and antibiotic ointment. Allow me to assist you.”

Jacobi watched in awe as the treatment was followed exactly and, in seconds, his cut was covered by a Spider-Man Band-Aid.

“Huh, that’s pretty coo—”

“Assessing for further damage. Please stand by.”

Keeping him in place with its hand still wrapped around Jacobi’s wrist, the robot’s other hand starts prodding at him, presumably testing for bruises or broken bones.

“What— Hehehey! Cut thahahat out!”

It did not cut that out. In fact, it seemed to deem it incredibly necessary to check every last one of Jacobi’s ribs for potential fractures.

That’s when Jacobi looked up to see Alana smirking at him and doing fuck all to actually help.

In fact, it almost seemed as if, “Hey! Did you plahahahan this?!”

She just shrugged at him, smile growing as the robot started checking his neck for damage, drawing an embarrassing squeal out of Jacobi.

“Lahahahana!”

“Okay, I didn’t actually plan this. But that’s because I didn’t know that you were ticklish, Daniel!” Alana set her tablet down and started walking towards him, “And, I mean, you know that I have to explore this further, right? It’s for science!”

Anything Jacobi might’ve said was drowned out by a sudden shriek as Alana started clawing at his stomach. He tried to double over, to do anything besides frantically shaking his head to protect himself, but the robot’s hold was firm and Doctor Alana Maxwell was fucking ruthless.

He found his voice when Alana started squeezing at his hips because this was cruel and unjust and unfair and other adjectives that his addled mind couldn’t think of right now.

“No! Nonononono shihihihit!”

Alana paused for a moment to pat him on the cheek mock-sympathetically.

“Don’t worry, Daniel. With me helping, P3R1L’s ten minute diagnostic will fly by!

Aw shit.

This is exactly what Jacobi gets for being best friends with a mad scientist.

But hey, at least he got a badass Spider-Man Band-Aid out of it!

#tickle fic #fanfic #tickling #fluff #wolf 359 #wolf 359 fic #wolf 359 tickle fic #daniel jacobi #alana maxwell #ticklish!daniel jacobi #they get to be happy because i said so #my babies <33 #tickletober #augtickletober2024 #ignore how the beginning of my posts keep changing #ill update them all eventually i promise

5 notes · View notes

serenefreakgeekao3 · 2 years ago

Text

Jim Halpert x Trans Man Reader 5 +1

Summary: Five times Dunder Mifflin noticed your transitions, and one final result. You are a recently discovered trans man, and yet you work at Dunder Mifflin with some of the most well-meaning yet completely ignorant people you’ve ever met. But you’re brave and ready to transition. What happens when the office takes notice- and who comes to your rescue each time? Warnings: misgendering (but only because closeted!), dysphoria, anxiety, slightly misogynistic rules/views (according to Dwight, who is wrong/ very brief), use of the word queer (positive) like once, gratuitous use of italics for emphasis, A/N: so i was supposed to sleep for work but insomnia said no you’re going to think about jim instead so i went to work with no sleep but with a mission. I tried to beta and used grammarly to help, but pls excuse if this is rather a trainwreck, as my brain probably isn’t functioning at full power currently (i also might’ve gotten carried away in the ‘tea mug’ arc cause of something that happened at work but who can blame me really)

You had always felt different. Off, separate, or not comfortable in your skin. No matter the descriptor, it made you shrink into yourself and try to disappear away from anyone else. The idea of the world perceiving you when you couldn’t even recognize the person in the mirror? That wasn’t who you were and you certainly didn’t want people to think it was, but what else were you supposed to do? It took a lot of soul searching, self-discovery, and a few mistakes but you eventually realized the biggest factor of your discomfort.

You were a man. You were born with the wrong body, you presented the wrong way your entire life. Adding it all together made sense, especially when you thought back to your childhood- a lot of things made sense now. Now you knew, and this was your chance. You knew transitioning into who you wanted to be- who you are- would be a long and painful journey, but it felt worth it. Something finally felt worth it for once.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you took in your appearance. Your hair was long, nearly down most of your back, though you usually tried to keep it up into a tight bun most of the time. Your closet next to you was full of blouses, skirts, and dresses. Business professional outfits, fit to wear to Dunder Mifflin paper company, where you worked in customer service alongside one of the most feminine women you’ve ever met- Kelly Kapoor. When you first started, she had gone on and on about how you two were going to be the best girlfriends, go shopping and get manicures and whatnot. You weren’t very excited, and after turning her down one too many times to just relax at home instead, she eventually stopped inviting you. After a few repeated outfits, she even stopped commenting on how cute- how feminine- you were. You preferred when everyone glossed over you, eyes skipping your form as if you weren’t there.

Biting your lip, you turn around and eye the suit laid out on your bed. You had gone out and tried on multiple suits- you didn’t bother getting anything tailored specifically for your form, feeling too self conscious for such an act- but you returned with only one that fit well and looked nice. It was a solid colour, a dull khaki. You hoped the dullness would be less noticeable, that you could just slip in without issue. You eyed the full masculine suit in front of you, approaching and letting your hand drag against the rough fabric.

Anxiety welled up in your chest and you took a deep breath, stepping back again. It seemed too big a step, too much all at once. So, what if you took a smaller step? You studied the suit through your floor-length mirror, then turned and returned to it. Instead of lifting the whole outfit, you wrangled the slacks off of the hanger. You slipped them on, buttoned them up, and studied your half-dressed appearance in the mirror. Nothing even really looked that different right now, so a very small step indeed, but it felt different. Your smile slowly grew, and after finally settling that feeling in your chest, you reached into your closet for a blouse.

The drive to work was rainy, the skies full of grey that matched your dull outfit. After rushing into the Scranton business park, you pulled your oversized hoodie off of your form and smoothed down your blouse with a huff. You smiled and nodded toward the security guard, then took the elevator up. That anxious feeling returned- were you really going to do this? Sure, it was only slacks. Plenty of women in the office wore pants to work- but this was your first time. Maybe no one would notice? No one ever noticed you anyway.

Ding! You held your breath as the elevator doors opened, then let it out slowly before finally stepping off. You pushed through the glass doors, nodding toward Pam when she welcomes you in. You watched her do a double take at your appearance, then lowered your head and tried to rush to the annexe where your desk and safe haven remained. You were stopped in your path by a tall figure, and glancing up you were met with those silly glasses. You hardly ever interacted with Dwight, but you heard the stories.

“Y/N, you are in violation of the dress code.” You blink a few times, staring at the man blocking your way. You huff, shaking your head.

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not wearing your usual skirt with that blouse, nor any of the three dresses you own.” You raise your eyebrows at this, a horrified look crossing your face. He knew how many dresses you owned? Who is this man?

“As far as I remember, Dwight, slacks are allowed per the dress code.”

“Yeah, for men,” Dwight added, crossing his arms. He couldn’t possibly know the spear of hurt that lanced through your chest at those words. You felt unable to continue, unable to think up any sort of response to that. Unable to even breathe.

“Dwight, leave her alone.” You turned to see Pam walk up behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back in solidarity. She couldn’t possibly know the tightening of your chest from hearing that pronoun- but at least she was trying to help.

“It’s in clear violation-”

“There is no violation here, Dwight! Look at what I’m wearing!” You glance down at the same time, taking note of her feminine pants. Comparing the two side by side, you could tell the cut was different for each. How yours widened out and were more masculine- you hoped that they wouldn’t look too closely at that. Returning your gaze to Dwight, you could see a staring contest happening between him and Pam. After a particularly funny raised eyebrow from Pam, Dwight pushed past the both of you.

“Michael!”

“Run, while you still can,” Pam whispers into your ear, and you huff a relieved laugh. Nodding, you walk away from Pam’s hand still on your back, returning to your original path. Before you could get too far, however, you heard your name called from behind.

“Y/N!” You turn, glancing through the various faces before settling on Jim Halpert, one of the best salesmen in the building. Also one of the funniest. “You’re looking fantastic today. Keep it up.” Also, apparently, one of the sweetest.

Unable to respond due to the anxiety choking you still, you nod your head at him with a smile, then hurry to your work.

Should you do this?

Earlier, your response would’ve been a resounding yes, but standing here in your bathroom, scissors held open to your hair, you began to wonder. Sure you wanted it cut- well, truthfully you wanted it gone- but maybe you should pay a professional to do it? Taking a deep breath, you let the scissors close.

Cutting your hair was a longer process than you thought it would be. You had to even out the choppy look a few times, but eventually when you finished you felt like you did a decent job. Your hair no longer stretched down your back, tied back and forgotten about. It fell to just above your shoulders, much shorter and much more freeing. Biting your lip, you consider the rest of it. You knew you wanted it even shorter, sure, but you absolutely weren’t confident enough to do all of that by yourself. Maybe you should schedule an appointment with a hairstylist? Or a barber?

Returning to your room, you began pushing through your closet. After the first day of success, you wore the slacks for the second day in a row. Luckily, that had been a Friday, and the following weekend was spent shopping once more. You purchased a few more full suits, only having pulled out the slacks to wear into work since then. There now sat a box in the corner of your closet, full of skirts and three dresses.

You pulled on an outfit, smoothing down your ruffled blouse in the mirror. You frowned to yourself, pulling the sides of the shirt under your armpits and trying to straighten it out more, to fall without showing your curves. But that’s what the shirt was made for, so your insistence was pointless. Eventually, with an aggravated huff, you pulled on your comfy hoodie and made your way out to work.

Short hair was certainly a head-turner, it seemed. Pam had called out your name with a surprised lilt to her tone. This drew the attention of a few people in the bullpen, which began the whispers. By the time you were halfway across the room, it felt like every eye in the room was on you. You heard your name called out behind you, but you pretended to not have heard it, pushing into the break room.

You breathe out shakily, filling the kettle on the counter with water before placing it on the burner. You pull down your favourite mug from the cabinets above, then pulled a teabag from the box you brought in from a nearby drawer. Placing the dry teabag in the empty cup, you were just about to go sit when the door to your left opens, and you look up to see two people entering the break room.

At least it was Pam and Jim. Out of everyone in the office, they certainly seemed the most normal. Jim hesitated at the door, obviously eyeing your new haircut, while Pam took slow steps toward you as if approaching a cornered animal. “So, Y/N,” Pam began, smiling toward you in a stretched way that seemed like she was trying to be comforting while missing the mark. “Did something change? You seem different.”

“You can just say I cut my hair, it’s pretty obvious.” You turn back to the kettle, staring at it and willing it to whistle.

“It is,” Jim agreed from the door, taking a few steps forward. “Looks good, too.”

You startle, raising your eyes quickly to him. “Wait- really?” He nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I had a feeling that everyone was staring because it’s so choppy.”

“It doesn’t look choppy at all!” Pam inserted, smiling encouragingly at you. “It looks brilliantly cut! Where’d you get it done?”

You eyed her, then mumbled under your breath. Pam glanced at Jim with a confused expression, then politely asked you to repeat yourself. You sigh, trying to force a smile. “I did it myself.”

“Wow- that’s- you did this yourself?”

“Like I said,” Jim interrupts, walking around to your other side and leaning a hip against the counter, “Looks good.”

“If you want,” Pam inserts, pulling your attention back to her once again, “I could give you the number to my hair stylist, next time you want a cut?” You bite your lip, turning to stare into your empty tea mug. After a beat, Jim chimes in.

“Or my barber.” You startle once more, your head snapping up quickly in his direction. Your eyes must’ve looked wide and hopeful, as Jim’s smile slowly spread, and he laughed, nodding. “I’ll remember to grab his card next time I’m in.”

“Fuck these stupid, floofy, puffed up-”

You growl, tearing the blouse off of your body where you attempted to put it on straight and unwrinkled- instead now throwing it to the floor. You were tempted to stomp on it out of childish aggravation but had just barely refrained. You look back up to your floor-length mirror, slumping at the half-dressed image in front of you. You eyed your bra- you recently switched from padded to sports, and thankfully no one noticed that change in the office- and grumbled under your breath before approaching your closet once more.

Angrily swiping through hangers, none of your blouses appealed to you. You wanted comfortable, not itchy. Straight, formless, and plain- not frilly or cinched at the waist. You push the last of your blouses to the side, growling under your breath in aggravation. You only swiped through half of your closet, and you were now looking at where the remainder of the suits you bought were hanging. Slowly, you felt your shoulders relax as you stared at the hanging dress shirts. You glanced down, checking which coloured pants you were wearing, then quickly grabbed a matching dress shirt.

They were certainly easier to button up as well, though slightly tight in the chest area. You tucked in the shirt, then pulled a belt from your set of drawers nearby to complete the look. Well- not quite complete it. You bit your lip once more as you thought over your new problem. With the lack of a blouse and the addition of a dress shirt, that meant you had to wear a tie. That wasn’t exactly something you were opposed to- if only you knew how to tie one.

You tried and failed multiple times, getting frustrated, sure, but you could see the progress. Glancing at your clock, your eyes widened at the time. You threw the current, wrinkled, tie away and snatched a new one from its hanger. You tried as carefully as you could, and though it sat crooked it was at least there. Enough for work, which you would be late for if you didn’t leave right now.

The weather was grey but lacked the rain that was common in recent months. Generally, you’d grab your hoodie no matter the weather, but something in you felt settled enough to forgo it this time around. You hoped you wouldn’t regret it later.

The business park’s lot was full of cars when you pulled in, having to park in one of the furthest spots. You tried not to run, but you certainly didn’t walk into the building. By the time the elevator dinged, you had completely forgotten about your change in dress. Rushing out of the elevator, you pushed through the glass doors and immediately tilted your head to the side to see the clock. You released a sigh of relief- you made it by three minutes.

“You know,” Pam whispered from her spot behind the receptionist’s desk, and you took a few steps closer, “It really isn’t the end of the world if you’re just a bit late.”

“I wouldn’t care usually,” You begin, glancing warily around the room, “But Dwight’s been kinda up my ass lately and I’ve heard how he harasses people when they’re late.” Pam sent you a sympathetic look, and you took this as the end of your conversation.

Your walk through the bullpen to the annexe was slower lately than before. It likely wasn’t noticed by anyone but you, but you didn’t feel the need to rush by without being seen anymore. Before, feeling the eyes of your coworkers on you created an itchy, crawling feeling across your skin. Now, you’re able to even look them in the eyes.

You smiled at Jim as you passed, his expression stuck in what seemed like one of concentration, directly at you. You tried to ignore the hurt pulsing through you when he didn’t smile back, only followed you with his eyes. You pushed into the break room, beginning your usual routine of filling the kettle for your morning tea. You opened the cabinets above the sink, then furrowed your brow, pushing a couple of mugs to the side. Where was your favourite cup?

You heard the door open, and you began to ask before even looking to see who it was. “Hey, you don’t happen to know where-” You pause, locking eyes with Jim. “Oh, hey.” He still wore that face of concentration, and he took long strides toward you until he stood close. You turn to face him, leaving the cupboards open, laughing awkwardly. “What’s up?”

Jim’s response was to reach forward toward your chest. He tugged, and you felt something around your neck pull and- oh right, your tie! You look down, feeling breathless for some reason as Jim begins to undo your terrible knot. He pulls it free from your shirt, smoothing it out against his chest. He lifted your collar, looping it around your neck, then paused as he held each end out.

“Watch,” Jim mumbled and waited for you to lower your eyes once more to his hands. He had some nice hands, actually. He began the process of knotting the tie, moving slowly as if trying to show you the proper way. You tried your best to take in the silent instructions, but his proximity was making you almost lightheaded. He finished, tightening it up close to your throat, then slowly folded your collar back down over top. He patted your shoulder, his look of concentration finally falling into his usual smile. “There we go, that’s much better.” You look up to face Jim and- wait, wow, had he always been that attractive? Was it getting hot in here?

“Thank you,” You stutter out, your eyes darting between his hazel eyes.

“Dwight has it, by the way.” You furrow your brows, confused. Just then, as if to remind you, the kettle began whistling next to you. You jump, switching the burner off and lifting the kettle from the source of heat to stop the high-pitched whining.

“My cup? Why?”

“Well…” Jim dragged the word out, wincing with a shrug. “Something happened to his mug. He said he grabbed a random one from the cupboard that he didn’t think belonged to anyone, but I recognized it.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“Oh I did,” Jim added, smirking and crossing his arms, leaning his hip against the counter. “I told him it was yours. He said you can have it back once he’s finished with his morning coffee.”

“Coffee?” You exclaim, shaking your head quickly, “No, that’s my tea mug! I actually bought that one specifically-” You cut yourself off from a rant that Jim didn’t deserve, groaning under your breath before pushing back into the bullpen. You walk directly behind Dwight, crossing your arms. “Give it back.”

Dwight spins in his office chair to face you dramatically, shooting you a look that only aggravated you further. “Give what back?”

“You know what.”

“Well, unfortunately, I’m in the middle of using it.” You narrow your eyes at him, though he doesn’t flinch. “I’ll return it to the cupboard once I’ve finished my coffee and washed it.”

“Then finish your coffee now, I’ll wash it myself.”

“Can’t do that,” Dwight said, shaking his head. “It’s not appropriate to rush through a cup of coffee. That could have disastrous effects on my body.” You sigh heavily, raising a hand to rub your face.

“Here, just hand it over and I can pour it into another mug-”

“So you can spike my drink? Absolutely not.” You roll your eyes, turning to move as you speak.

“Then I’ll just bring you a cup and you can-”

“Negative, there is no way I am transferring my coffee into a contaminated cup.” You halt your movement, locking your eyes with Jim before slowly turning around, narrowing your eyes at the infuriating man once more.

“How about this, Dwight.” You take a few steps closer, ducking your head down and lowering your voice. “Empty that cup now, or I’ll do it for you.”

“And how exactly do you propose-” Dwight’s annoying comeback was interrupted as he gasped loudly, standing in surprise. It was warranted, considering you had just poured the entirety of the mug onto his trousers. You tried your best to smother your smile, tilting your head with a fake-innocent tone to your voice.

“Oh! Dwight, I’m so sorry! I’m just so clumsy sometimes.” You turned, walking directly back to the breakroom. You heard the predictable ‘Michael!’ from behind but your eyes were locked on Jim, who looked astonished, his hand cupping his mouth that seemed to be hanging open. You couldn’t hold back your smirk anymore, pushing into the break room and heading directly for the sink. You heard Jim enter behind you, evident by his boisterous laugh once the door closed.

“Holy shit! You actually just did that!” You chuckle, turning the hot water on and reaching for the dish soap.

“Well, he’s just lucky I didn’t do worse. I’m very particular about my cups.”

The door opens again and Pam rushes in, pulling the door closed behind her and dropping her jaw at you. You chuckle nervously, shrugging, as she finally speaks up. “That. Was. Amazing!” She rushed forward, taking hold of your arm and shaking you. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”

“Yeah, neither did I,” You mumble, laughing a little less awkwardly as you glance from Pam to Jim. He was watching you with a softer smile now, and a curious look in his eye. You bring your attention back to your mug, rinsing it out before setting it on the drying rack. You put the kettle back on the burner and grab a dish towel to dry your cup off with.

“Regardless, that was amazing, I have to agree with Beesly here.” Jim’s input, while mild, certainly cemented something solid in your chest. You nod slowly at him, letting your smile grow. “I like this new you,” He adds on, his voice quieting down, and you almost forget Pam is still standing next to you. “You’re a lot more confident. It’s-”

Jim was interrupted by the door opening again, spinning around to see who would be walking in next. It was safe to say none of you three expected to see Dwight walk in, carrying his pants in one hand and a hair dryer in the other. He paused on the threshold, wearing only tighty-whities on his legs, and he glared at you. After a few moments too long- though any amount of time is too long when looking at that- he resumed his walk, pushing himself into the men’s bathroom.

Jim puffed out his cheeks, then blew out his breath slowly, turning to look at you and Pam with wide eyes. Pam stood there shell-shocked, eyes so wide it was a wonder they didn’t pop out of her head. The kettle began to whistle, knocking a bit of sense into you finally to turn and lift it off of the burner.

“I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing that.”

“Holy hells,” You mumble under your breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Gently, you placed your hands against the black, stretched fabric across your chest. You actually felt flat. You felt up and down, tapping against your chest a few times before turning sideways, seeing how far your chest stuck out. Sure, this was your first binder, but it seemed to mould to you like a second skin. You were amazed to actually get the size right the first go around.

You couldn’t help the giddy giggle that bubbled up, raising a hand to cover your smile, more in astonishment than to hide it. Warmth filled your chest, and you couldn’t remember a time when you were so consistently happy than when you finally decided to start transitioning. Even just this moment, it could beat any other moment before this year began.

You finally moved to your closet, pulling your dress shirt off of its hanger and throwing it on. Buttoned up, you check yourself out again. Tucking in your shirt, a look at the mirror once more. You grab a tie- actually one that was gifted to you by Jim, ‘celebrating the new you,’ as if he could read your mind- and moved back to the mirror. You flipped the tie easily through the motions, having had time to practice a lot more since that first day. Your mind flashes back to the image of Jim’s hands so close to you, showing you how to do this properly, although you were more enamoured with how large and handsome they looked as they slowly flipped the fabric around.

Shaking yourself of these thoughts, and tightening your knot to complete your look, you take a step back and admire yourself in the mirror one last time before heading out the door. It was a sunny day, but a cool breeze kept the temperature at a nice level. You drove to work with the windows rolled down, then huffed when your hair kept flying into your face. At a red light, you pulled an old hair tie from somewhere in your car, attempting to grab your loose hair and pull it into a bun in the back. It had grown longer since you had last cut it, but even with the majority of your hair in a nice bun a few strands hung down on either side of your face, defeating the purpose.

You run a hand through your hair, pulling the stray strands to the top of your head before resuming your drive. You managed to snag a parking spot close to the door, and you walk into work with your briefcase and a smile. Pam greets you enthusiastically- having grown close since you’ve begun to open up- and your smile widens as you wave at her. Turning the corner, you smirk toward Jim standing behind Dwight’s desk, sliding something into his drawer. He had looked up at Pam’s voice calling a greeting toward you, and he seemed to fumble with whatever was in his hands as his eyes landed on you. You heard him curse under his breath, looking back to his task as you snicker and walk past, heading toward your daily ritual.

You were pouring the hot water into your mug when Jim finally walked in, smirk firmly in place. You raise your eyebrows at him, picking up the string of the teabag and dunking it a few times. “You seemed preoccupied earlier, Halpert. Planning something malicious?”

“Oh, nah, not malicious.” He leaned against the counter nearby you, unconsciously curling his body toward you, “Just a little practical joke. As I’m sure you know, Dwight just loves them.”

“Oh, I’ve heard,” You snicker, letting your teabag rest to turn and face Jim more directly. “Sometimes I wish I could sit in the bullpen just to watch your pranks. Seems a lot more entertaining than listening to Mr Decker complain about a missed delivery once again.”

Jim scrunches his nose in thought, then puffs out, “Phyllis?”

“Stanley,” You correct with a smirk, watching Jim’s face fall in defeat.

“Damn, thought I had that one.”

“And I complain about him often, Jim. How could you forget?”

“Who, Mr Decker or Stanley?”

“Stanley is actually a sweetheart,” You mention, turning to the cupboard to pull down another mug. “He just doesn’t have the tolerance to put up with bullshit.” Jim’s nose scrunched again, and you tried not to find it cute. It was a daunting task, so you distracted yourself instead, pouring from the pot of coffee on the counter into the new mug you brought down.

“But he’s constantly eyeballing me?”

“Jim, you prank Dwight like every other day. Of course the man is wary of you.” You stir in a couple of spoonfuls of sugar, adding a touch of dry creamer to it. You slide the coffee over toward Jim, reaching instead for the teabag in your cup to toss in the trash. Turning back to Jim, you open your mouth to continue when Jim suddenly reaches forward, taking hold of your tie.

“Isn’t this the one I gifted you like a week ago?”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the random question. His thumb glides against the fabric, silky smooth in his grip. You swallow roughly, mouth suddenly dry, and attempt to answer without croaking. “Yeah. Yes, it is.”

“Looks good on you,” Jim mumbles, and neither of you notices the door behind Jim flying open, Kelly rushing through and bumping directly into him. Like a domino effect, he’s knocked into you, and you’re knocked into the table behind you. As you all try to process what happened in such quick succession, one thing sticks out clearly. In an instinct to catch himself, Jim threw his hands out forward- and they were currently placed against your chest, your arms stuck behind you to catch yourself against the table.

Kelly’s apologies were as quick as she was, the door to the annexe already closing. You thought you heard her mumble something about a ‘fashion emergency’ but you weren’t exactly paying attention to that, with your current predicament. Jim finally realized where he was, springing backwards quickly and raising his hands up, fear coursing through his expression.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m-” He hesitates, confusion taking over his features as he glances down at your chest. Ok, now you were feeling self-conscious again, the tight fabric constricting your chest suddenly very noticeable once more. He seems to shake himself of it, raising his eyes quickly as if worried he’d be caught. “I’m sorry, Kelly kinda-”

“I know what happened Halpert,” You interrupt gently, a light laugh to your voice, “I was standing right here when she came barreling in.” It was quiet as you straightened up, turning to grab your tea and take a drink, something to occupy yourself with. Eventually, Jim’s amiable voice spoke up once more.

“And you have to sit in the annexe with her every day? Rough.” You laugh, having not expected him to say that. You didn’t know what you were expecting of him, to ask about your binder? Maybe he didn’t even notice it?

“Right next to her, yep. We share a cubicle wall.” Jim hisses in sympathy, and you laugh once more. “She’s really not that bad anymore, honestly. At least she’s stopped calling me ‘pretty.’” You take a sip from your tea, then pause midway through. Wait- did you really just say that? Your eyes shoot up to Jim, watching his own eyes flicker between your face and your chest, then back again. You slowly lower your mug to the counter, finding it hard to swallow.

“Well,” He mumbles, taking a step closer to look you more directly in the eyes, “She was right that you’re attractive. Though, I’d use a different descriptor.” You were finding it difficult to find your breath in so close proximity, eyes widening as you look up at Jim.

“Like what?”

“Gorgeous,” He hesitates, biting his lip before adding, “Handsome.”

You were smiling at yourself in the mirror. You didn’t feel silly, or childish in doing so. You were smiling because you were happy with your appearance.

This past weekend contained the scheduled barber’s appointment you had made through Jim’s connection. Your hair was finally short. It wasn’t tickling your neck or draping in some sort of feminine way. Going in, you were unsure exactly what style of haircut you would want, but after perusing some magazines, and a suggestion from the barber himself, you ended up with a fantastic cut that showed off the line of your jaw and cheekbones. Where once your hair had curtained your face and hid you from the world- or was pulled back to forget you even had it- now you finally felt free and willing to face the trials ahead of you.

You were giddy going to work for once. Let them look at you, you weren’t hiding yourself any longer. You didn’t need to anymore. You spot Jim leaning against the receptionist’s desk and pushed through the glass doors with a wide grin, just in time to hear the tail-end of Jim’s thought.

“He just keeps getting more and more handsome, Pam, I don’t know what to do.”

“Who does?” You ask, popping up right next to Jim and waving down to Pam. Jim jumped, eyes widening as he turned toward you, then widening further as his eyes scanned the top of your head. You grinned down toward Pam, who wore a mischievous smirk. “Is it Dwight? I bet it’s Dwight.”

“Y/N! How, uh-” Jim stutters, eyes falling away from your new hairstyle, “How much of that-”

“Yes,” Pam interrupts a bit loudly, and you turn to her with your constant grin, “It was absolutely Dwight. Jim thinks Dwight is incredibly handsome and doesn’t know what to do about it.” Right after Pam finishes, a new voice joins in.

“Of course he does,” You jump, turning to watch Dwight walk directly to his desk, not sparing the three of you a glance, “I am the peak male form, everyone should be jealous of me.” Jim glares daggers at Pam, but you laugh along, too giddy to let Dwight ruin your mood. No one bothers to correct Dwight and he begins to unpack his suitcase.

“Well, anyway, a mug of tea is calling my name.”

“Wait, Y/N,” Pam calls out, and you retrace the one step you took away to look back at her. “You’re staying after work for the party, right?” You tilt your head, unaware there was going to be a party, but you shrug.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Pam’s grin was blinding in its intensity, and she looks directly at Jim with raised eyebrows. You glance between the two of them, watching them practically communicate with each other just using their eyes. “Am I missing something here?”

“You just never used to stick around for any of the voluntary office shindigs,” Pam answers, shrugging. Jim places a hand on your shoulder with a warm smile.

“We’re just glad you’re opening up.”

“It’s practically inspiring, isn’t it Jim?” You watch the silent communication for another moment, a pang of something eerily similar to jealousy pang through your chest. Nope, you weren’t going to let something that ridiculous ruin your good mood.

“Oh, you hear that?” You place a hand to your ear, turning around to face them while walking backwards toward the kitchen. “It’s my mug calling out to me. Y/N! Save me from this dry and lonely existence! Don’t worry muggy, I’m coming!” You knew you were being silly, but as you hear Jim’s laughter following you, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed about it.

The rest of your day, surprisingly, flew by. Jim came by to see you twice more throughout the day, claiming that his usual buddy (Pam) was otherwise occupied with the Party Planning Committee. He complimented your hairstyle, calling you handsome once again. You thanked him for the barber recommendation and you swore you heard him say, ‘I’ll need to thank him next time I see him,’ but that didn’t make any sense. Why would he thank his barber for giving you a haircut?

Before you knew it, you were shutting down your computer and grabbing your briefcase from the floor nearby. Bringing it out into the bullpen, you studied your coworkers. Half were already walking out the door- Stanley was the first to exit the building, you were sure- but there was a decent-sized crowd heading toward the conference room already. You couldn’t spot Jim- until he appeared right next to you.

“Jesus, Halpert!” You huff, shaking your head. “What were you doing, hiding beside the door?”

“Waiting for you,” Jim answers easily, an easy grin claiming his face. You hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as they were warm, turning away from him just in case. “Here, you can set that on my desk.”

He led you over to it, indicating a spot next to his own briefcase, and you couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed your face at the offer. Turning back to Jim, your smile grows when it seems like he’s about to say something to you- until he’s cut off by Pam’s voice in the conference room.

“Jim!” He chuckles, dropping his head in defeat, peering up at you through his eyelashes. Your heart stuttered in your chest at the sight, but he pulled away and went to go assist with whatever he was called over for.

Walking into the conference room, it was certainly decorated, but you still couldn’t tell the purpose of this party. You thought maybe it might be someone’s birthday, but with the cake on the table reading out ‘Happy Quinceanera’ you really couldn’t tell for sure. At least you were assured in the fact that if it really was a Quinceanera, for whatever reason, there’d be a lot more sombreros than there were. (Just knowing Michael would insist, even though you knew better.)

“You know, Y/N,” You turn around, empty plate in hand as you were about to grab a slice of the pink cake. “You’re really not going to attract a mate that way.” You furrow your brows, deciding just to abandon the empty plate to focus on whatever Dwight had going on right now.

“Excuse me?”

“Dressing so masculine. Cutting your hair so short.” He stuck out his fingers as he listed off points, his tone serious, “You’re never going to attract a decent man if you keep trying to look like one.”

“Maybe that was the point,” You mutter under your breath, scanning the room to make sure no one was paying too close attention to your conversation. The room was small though, and while their heads were turned, their ears were definitely perked. Your eyes met Jim and Pam across the room, Jim had just finished hanging whatever decoration Pam had called him over for.

“What, to repel a mate?”

“To look like a man.” You turn, locking eyes with Dwight, who mainly just seemed confused.

“Why would you ever want that? It’s not like you’re a guy.”

“Well, maybe I am! Did you ever think of that?”

You suck in a breath, realizing what you just admitted. Your eyes immediately shoot toward Jim and Pam, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t be sneering or disgusted. Instead, they were grinning. They seemed glad, maybe even proud. You quickly look back to Dwight. He was blinking rapidly as if processing this information. Suddenly, in a bout of quick movement, Dwight was leaving the room and plopping himself into his desk chair, turning his computer back on.

“Hey,” Jim’s voice calls gently, and you turn to see him and Pam now next to you instead of across the room. “That was really brave, what you did there. Probably not the way you wanted to come out, granted, but-”

“Did you know?” You didn’t know why you asked, but then again, neither of them had seemed surprised.

“Well,” Jim began, his eyes turning worried.

“We’d suspected,” Pam offered gently, smiling toward you. “Just know that this changes nothing between us, though.” You study Pam’s expression, finding nothing but sincerity. You turn to Jim, meeting his eyes fearfully. Jim’s worried expression softens into something consoling, and he reaches forward to rub your arm.

“You’re still you, Y/N. Although,” He begins a soft smile, ducking his head, “Your new confidence sure is sexy as hell.”

You’ve been out at your work for a month now, and honestly? It was nowhere near as nerve-wracking as you thought it’d be. You didn’t regret it once. Michael was kept on a tight leash with the trans jokes, Oscar came over to congratulate you on coming out and thank you for being the second out queer person in the office, and you found out the reason Dwight had rushed away when you first came out was that he didn’t know that trans people existed and had spent an hour afterwards researching it. If Jim and Pam hadn’t been around, you would’ve sworn that Dwight was the most supportive of you.

However, Jim and Pam were around. They treated you the exact same, joked around with you and invited you in on their pranks. Jim continued his sincere compliments that were starting to sound more and more like flirting, and Pam was growing more playfully aggravated by the day, though refused to explain why. You wondered if you would ever hang out with them outside of work, though they never asked so you never brought it up.

You were so happy now, as well. Not just for your transition, which happened so smoothly and, thankfully, without ridicule. But on top of that, you had gained a confidence that bled into every area of your life- work, friends, even just walking through your local supermarket had you striding with your head held high. Then, gaining Jim and Pam as friends- perhaps even best friends, where at one point they were just coworkers, acquaintances at best? Probably the best part of it all. Although, there was one thing that still had your anxiety racing, and you had no clue how to handle it.

You were hopelessly in love with Jim Halpert.

#the office #jim halpert #x reader #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x you #trans reader #trans man reader #5 + 1 things #5 + 1 fic #fanfiction #pam beesly #dwight shrute

117 notes · View notes

astrangetorpedo · 8 months ago

Text

boygenius: “This is the time we finally get to be around each other – we’re gonna enjoy it”

As they release The Record, one of the year's most anticipated and acclaimed debut albums, we meet Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker in New York City to discuss their unique creative bond

by Gemma Samways

Tonight, the room is playing host to the 36th annual Tibet House US Benefit. Curated by Philip Glass – and featuring Laurie Anderson, Arooj Aftab and Bernard Sumner and Tom Chapman of New Order – the line-up reads like a particularly A-list episode of Later with… Jools Holland. It soon transpires its staging is similarly chaotic, with the event running approximately an hour behind schedule and artists often walking onstage unannounced.

boygenius are one of the few acts to enjoy a proper introduction. Added to the bill just 24 hours ago, their first public appearance in almost half a decade has prompted a frenzied, last minute scramble for seats, with $35 tickets exchanging hands for ten times that amount. A day later, in a photo studio in the East Village following our shoot at Jane’s Carousel in Brooklyn, the trio admit to having felt a little freaked out in the build-up.

“I was really emotional because I’ve been obsessed with Nina Simone’s Carnegie Hall album of late,” Lucy Dacus confides, sat on the sofa, sandwiched between her bandmates. Julien Baker nods, confessing to having been “so stressed about doing my job that I couldn’t fully absorb that I was playing alongside living legends.” Meanwhile, Phoebe Bridgers was still semi-delirious with jetlag, having recently landed back in the US from Japan.

“Look at this photo,” she laughs, extending her phone to me. Taken pre-gig, it shows her passed out on the dressing room floor while Lucy smirks in the foreground. “With full make-up, I look like I’m in an open casket. And because Julien was playing piano, I was having Julien-fuelled dreams.”

Certainly there were no visible signs of unease as they stepped out onstage to play stripped-back versions of ‘Not Strong Enough’ and ‘Cool About It’ – taken from their long-awaited debut album The Record – for the first time. And despite the all-star bill, the supergroup proved one of the night’s biggest draws, eliciting excited whoops from an audience who had greeted every other performer with respectfully restrained applause. Ultimately, once they started playing, they enjoyed the experience.

Less gratifying was the discovery that a group of particularly intrusive fans had tracked down their hotel after the show. “They were like, ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe’,” Lucy shudders. “And it’s like, ‘No, we aren’t: how’d you find out where we are? That’s stalking. Don’t do this.

Phoebe continues: “I mean, interactions with fans can be really sweet, especially when it’s a show like Carnegie Hall which might’ve been hard to get tickets to. But often there’s this weird thing where the rudest people bubble to the top, and the poor kid who just wants their record signed is too nice to ask. And so, while I’m trying to escape the fucking full-grown man who just grabbed me, I’m ignoring the sweet kid.

It’s fair to say a certain level of hysteria has surrounded boygenius ever since their formation. Five years ago they were all ascendant stars of the alternative scene, with the Tennessee-born Baker and Richmond, Virginia-raised Dacus being the most established, with two acclaimed albums each. By the end of 2018, the trio were being breathlessly billed by Vogue as “the Infinity War of female-led indie-rock outfits,” while their self-titled EP received widespread praise.

Objectively, it’s a collaboration that made – and still makes – total sense. Despite outgrowing their respective DIY scenes, they had each retained a fiercely independent outlook and an emotional authenticity, and that struck a chord with similarly principled, serotonin-starved audiences. Just as tantalisingly, interviews and social media interactions revealed that they didn’t take themselves especially seriously and seemed keen to distance themselves from the pedestal that fans were so intent on putting them on.

“It’s probably refreshing that we’re not character artists,” Lucy says when asked to summarise the appeal of boygenius. “Because ultimately we’re talking to you now how we usually talk to each other. Even when I’m doing my own [solo] stuff, I present a curated version of myself – like, I pick one aspect of my character per album to share. But with this band it’s totally artless.”

It’s not hyperbolic to suggest that The Record is one of the most anticipated albums of the year. To some degree that demand can be explained by Baker and Dacus expanding their fanbases further off the back of their 2021 solo records Little Oblivions and Home Video. But the real responsibility for the band’s reach surely lies at the feet of Bridgers, whose second album was nothing short of a cultural phenomenon.

Unanimously agreed to be one of 2020’s standout records, Punisher propelled the Pasadena-raised artist into music’s A-list, resulting in four Grammy nominations, an offer to found her own label (Saddest Factory, home to MUNA) and invites to collaborate with household names like Paul McCartney, SZA, Lorde and The 1975. Just days after our interview Phoebe is named one of Time’s 2023 Women of the Year, alongside Cate Blanchett and Megan Rapinoe. This coming May she will open for Taylor Swift in Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and New Jersey.

Despite the difference in their public profiles, the power dynamic in boygenius appears impressively balanced. A friendship first and foremost, they’ve signed the contract by acquiring matching tattoos of a tooth and of a cluster of goblets, the latter inspired by the tarot card the three of cups.

“That’s based on the first tarot reading Julien ever got,” Lucy – the band’s resident tarot expert – recalls fondly. “We were all together and that’s the first card she pulled. Plus it’s three women partying. Friendship is the highest form of love and that felt like a sweet entry into that world.”

Having been raised in the world of evangelical Christianity, Julien was initially resistant to the idea of tarot. “When you started doing a reading, I got up and sat in the tour van by myself because I thought God was gonna steal my soul,” she explains, totally serious.

“Does God do that?!” Phoebe laughs, incredulous.

“Yes! In [the book of] Samuel! But then I was like, ‘Alright, I trust you guys. I guess you can guide me through this.’ That was a fear that you guys helped me dismantle. Because by watching you engage with it, I realised that this was a tool for self-interrogation, not for summoning the devil.”

Within the band, all decisions are made democratically and affectionate ribbings are a big part of their social currency. “Roasting each other is an act of love,” Julien reasons, to the others’ approval. “If your friends aren’t talking shit about you, I don’t think they care about you.”

With Phoebe based in Los Angeles, Lucy in Philadelphia and Julien in Memphis, they largely stay in touch via group chat and FaceTime – a support network they all clearly cherish. “I can text cold something horrible that happened to me and not feel the pressure to look at my phone for hours,” says Phoebe. “But when I do I’ll see a bunch of validation.”

Julien concurs: “It’s neat that we can confide in each other. Because sometimes my sense of imposter syndrome makes me not want to talk about how excited I am about this with friends who don’t work in music. I’m talking to them like, ‘You gotta get on a plane super early and carry all this heavy equipment, so it’s not all fun.’ And having people understand it’s a job and that I’m dedicated to it is very important. But equally, with y’all I get to be like, ‘Shit’s so fucking sick!’ Like, in this band I get to be the type of excited and thankful that lacks decorum, especially when there are so many talented people in my life where our roles could have been switched in an alternate timeline.”

The roots of boygenius were laid in 2016, when Julien and Lucy performed on the same bill in Washington, D.C., followed by Julien meeting Phoebe a month later. When a canny promoter booked all three to tour together in 2018, they decided to record a collaborative seven-inch, a creative experiment that proved so fruitful they emerged with their eponymous EP.

By all accounts, the story behind The Record is similarly stress-free. Phoebe kickstarted the creative process just a week after releasing Punisher, sending a demo of ‘Emily, I’m Sorry’ to Lucy and Julien with the words, “Can we be a band again?” From there, the floodgates opened, with all three uploading demos to a shared drive, followed by two in-person writing trips – one in Healdsburg, California in April 2021 and another in Malibu in August of the same year.

Though carefully scheduled due to their individual work commitments, Lucy describes these retreats as anything but regimented. “We didn’t intend to work that hard,” she insists. “If anything, the regimen would have included breaks and we didn’t allow ourselves those.” Julien expands, “We’d be like, ‘Okay, today is a chill day,” but then we could not stop thinking about the record. And it’s just nice to be around a bunch of people who are passionate about the exact same thing.”

After whittling down the demos from a pool of 25, the final 12 were recorded at Rick Rubin’s Shangri-La studio in January 2022, with the help of co-producer Catherine Marks (Wolf Alice, Foals, PJ Harvey). Lucy specifically cites Marks’ work with Manchester Orchestra as a motivating factor for them initially reaching out, and Phoebe enthuses about her hands-on approach. “She’s the kind of producer that immediately kicks off their shoes. Wait, I’m gonna text her and tell her we’re talking about her.” She takes a group selfie of them all grinning, flicking Vs, and hits send.

Other key contributors included engineer and producer Sarah Tudzin (Slowdive, Weyes Blood), plus Jay Som’s Melina Duterte on bass. Melina will also appear as part of Boygenius’ seven-strong touring line-up, set to be unveiled at Coachella in April. Given that their band name specifically mocks society’s tendency to unfairly exalt male creatives, the idea of boygenius assembling a largely female team for this album feels satisfyingly utopian. Today, they insist it was purely circumstantial.

“They are the best people we could think of,” says Lucy. “Some days I’m like, ten-year-old me would feel that this is very important. But also there are days where I’m like, we’re doing press right now and it’s completely uninteresting that we’re women. Why are we talking about this?”

“Plus, it’s not a given that if you work with women you’re not also working with a bunch of assholes,” Phoebe grins. “Fortunately, we picked a bunch of people who aren’t assholes.” Lucy laughs. “Women can be assholes: there’s your pull quote.”

Sonically, The Record is a much richer, more ambitious collection than anything boygenius have produced previously, taking in widescreen folk-rock (‘Not Strong Enough’) and low-slung punk (‘Satanist’, ‘$20’), campfire folk (‘Cool About It’, ‘Leonard Cohen’) and string-flecked dream-pop (‘Revolution 0’), plus a swooning a cappella piece shaped around a lush three-part harmony (‘Without You Without Them’).

Though written by Lucy, Phoebe can take full credit for unearthing the latter. “I was like, ‘I want a song that’s like ‘Blue Velvet’.’ And Lucy’s like, ‘Oh… Actually I might have a song…’ And I’m like, ‘What the fuck are you talking about?!’”

“It was a washing the dishes song.” Lucy protests, smiling. “There’s, like, this whole category of songs that I don’t show people. And I didn’t think of that as a ‘me’ song because it doesn’t sound like what I do, you know? But Phoebe was like, ‘We have to do it.’ Plus, I like that it kind of picks up where we left off with ‘Ketchum, ID’ [from their 2018 EP]. So I’m glad you made us do that.”

This process of mutual encouragement is integral to the band. They’re the first to admit they’re one another’s fiercest supporters, to the extent they accidentally plagiarise each other on a regular basis. “I totally wrote ‘Garden Song’ the other day,” Julien tells Phoebe, who cheerfully bats back. “‘Revolution 0’ is basically me ripping off ‘Good News.’”

Jokes aside, all three songwriters boast instantly recognisable styles, as demonstrated by the triumvirate of singles with which they announced The Record. ‘Emily, I’m Sorry’ is quintessential Phoebe Bridgers, a slice of folky introspection that wouldn’t sound out of place on Punisher, while ‘True Blue’ showcases the quietly anthemic indie-rock that Lucy has made her calling card. Meanwhile, the buoyant ‘$20’ sees former hardcore kid Julien leaning into her love of riffing.

With most structures initially emanating from one particular songwriter, it does beg the question, what makes a track right for the band rather than remaining a solo endeavour? According to Phoebe, she relies on a type of benign Spidey-Sense. “I always know when I’m writing a boygenius song. Even with ‘Me And My Dog’ I was like, ‘I don’t think this is a solo record song.’”

Lucy is more specific. “A lot of times I’ll write a song for us in a different frame of mind, so you can be harmonising with me and saying something that’s still true for you. I don’t want to make either of you sing lyrics that don’t resonate with you.”

“I really struggle with that,” Phoebe says. “So much of my music is directly my point of view and so specific.”

“Totally,” Lucy nods, “I feel like on a lot of your songs we’re supporting…”

“…like a chorus in a Greek play,” replies Julien, finishing Lucy’s thought. “We’re not a part of the action: we’re standing behind, commenting on or observing it. But these songs only exist because we made The Record. They’re an article of the endeavour rather than a pre-planned thing.”

Lucy takes the final word on the subject. “These aren’t solo songs that we donated to each other: we had to be together to make it.”

Lyrically, The Record treads a tightrope between deadpan humour and quiet devastation. The opening line of ‘We’re In Love’ sees Lucy resolutely opting for the latter, singing, “You could absolutely break my heart / That’s how I know that we’re in love.” ‘Leonard Cohen’ falls firmly into the former camp, delivering a frontrunner for lyric of the year in: “Leonard Cohen once said there’s a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in / And I am not an old man having an existential crisis / In a Buddhist monastery / Writing horny poetry / But I agree.”

“I think my songs have a theme of being known and feeling present,” Lucy reflects. “Because I don’t feel that at all points in my life, I’m expressing my gratitude for that.” Phoebe sees her contributions as aspirational; evidence of the very process of self-improvement. “Each of the songs I contributed have a vibe of me trying my absolute hardest to not float ten inches above my body at all times. And you guys have helped me with that, so it makes sense that it would make the album.”

‘Not Strong Enough’ is perhaps their most collaborative song: a patchwork of ideas in which each band member takes a verse, as Julien jokes, “boyband-style”. Musically, it’s also the album’s most uplifting moment, its bright melody providing a smokescreen for lyrics exploring panic attacks and low self-esteem. When I point out the deception, Phoebe laughs. “You know the meme of the pink house and the black house next to each other, where it’s like one is the music and the other is the lyrics? That’s literally a couple miles from where we recorded our album. We’ve been talking about taking a photo in front of it for years.”

After an hour in their company, it’s not difficult to see why boygenius are inspiring such levels of adoration. A tight-knit gang of smart, talented, young songwriters, they’re the sort of band I wish had existed when I was growing up, even if I am battling to resist the urge to cast them as role models. After all, why should the men of rock be lauded for chaos while women have to be figures of unimpeachable virtue? When I mention the double standard, Lucy rolls her eyes.

“I remember when Phoebe did that Playboy article [in 2020]. People were texting me like, ‘I thought she was a role model for young girls?’ And I was like, 1. You can pose in Playboy and be a role model, and 2. When exactly did she sign up for that?”

“It is tight to me that you got texts and I did not,” Phoebe smiles. “I want to be scary. Like, as women or as queer people, we’re taught that anger is not useful and that forgiveness is the highest form of enlightenment. But I don’t think so. I think that I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to make everybody in a room feel ok when I don’t feel ok. It’s great to have boundaries. And as a band we’re all really good at protecting each other.”

Staying loyal to their DIY roots, boygenius are ultimately motivated by creating a community and enjoying the process of a shared endeavour. “Writing songs for this band is the opposite of saving your darlings for yourself,” Julien explains. “I want to bring the best possible offering to the band because it’s my favourite thing. It feels good to give the songs away.”

“Seriously, we have been looking forward to this time together for years,” says Phoebe. “This is the time we finally get to be around each other so we’re gonna enjoy it.”

(x) 4/5/23

#don’t mind me i just live in fear that these interviews will be taken offline djsjskdjs #boygenuis #julien baker #lucy dacus #phoebe bridgers #interview #archival #april 2023

10 notes · View notes