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feelmyskinonyourskin · 1 year ago

Text

Fight Club

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (AFAB)Reader (with platonic Frank Castle x Reader)

Summary: @hellskitchenswhore is killing it with the prompts lately. Per her request: Matt's freaking out thinking you might be cheating on him because for the last few weeks, you’ve been coming home smelling like Frank. What he doesn’t know is that you asked Frank to teach you how to fight and didn’t tell Matt.

Warnings: 18+/SMUT. No use of Y/N. Female/AFAB reader (use of terms like girlfriend and female anatomy.) Established relationship. Brief mention of an active shooter at an office, Frank and Matt using pet names like sweetheart, mentions and accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, Unprotected sex, Fingering, P in V, Creampie, and Possessiveness from our dear Matt. Sort of getting caught after the fact.

Notes: I started taking kickboxing like three weeks ago, so I like to pretend that qualifies me to know what I'm talking about (It doesn't lol). So apologizes if I got any of the terminology wrong. UPDATE DEC 2023: I wrote an alternate ending to this fic that ends in a threeway with Frank that you can read here

WC: 5,000

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“That’s it sweetheart, last round I promise.” Frank encourages you as you take swings at the bag in front of you.

You’ve been at this for at least an hour and your arms feel like jello. You can’t remember the last time you were breathing this hard that wasn’t from Matt bending you in half. Jumping directly into the Hudson would have kept you drier than the amount of sweat currently pouring down your face and exhausted body.

“Atta girl, atta girl!” Frank praises as you take your last few swings, arms too weak to make any real movement of the bag

“Alright, you’re getting the hang of it now. Few more sessions and you’ll be out there with Red every night.”

“Pfft I don’t know about that, Frank. I’m just trying to make sure I can protect myself is all.”

“So remind me again why you didn’t ask him to teach you this?”

It started last week. One of your favorite coworkers was going through a bitter divorce and her estranged husband decided to confront her at the office and pulled a gun. You heard two shots ring out from your desk and feared the worst - all the active shooter situations you'd seen on TV were happening live in your life. Fortunately, as you fled for safety, Jerry from accounting was able to disarm and tackle the guy before he could hurt anyone thanks to his black belt in Jiujitsu.

Even though the incident ended okay, it had spooked you enough to get yourself some defense classes, for all those times when your vigilante boyfriend was too far uptown to protect you at a moment’s notice and Jerry wasn’t around to save the day.

Matt was always overprotective of you and you hated to think how he’d react to the incident, so you hadn’t told him. When the story hit the news, you lied (via text so he couldn’t detect it) and said it happened on a different floor and you didn’t even notice.

You also didn’t tell him about your decision to learn self-defense. Matt was more than qualified to teach you, but for some reason, you just didn’t feel comfortable asking for his help with this. Maybe it was his propensity to throw himself into helping those he cared about, you especially, that gave you hesitation to give him another thing to prioritize over himself. Maybe it was just how good he was at fighting that made you not want to “be a beginner” in front of him (not that Matt would ever judge you about anything.)

In fairness to you, you hadn’t intended to learn it from his frenemy and former client, but you’d showed up at the boxing gym near your work and the gruff men inside intimidated you so much, you bolted out the door before signing up for a class, tears welling in your eyes when you quite literally bumped into Frank on the street.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, nodding towards the door of the boxing gym

“I thought… Look I want to learn how to fight. Or at least how to defend myself. This place is close to work but um… might not be the right fit for me.”

“Why don’t you just ask Red?”

“It’s a long story,” you replied with a sigh “but I really don’t want to ask him. Or for him to even know about it. So can you please not mention you saw me here or we had this conversation?”

“Okay, can I ask why not?”

“You can but I’m not gonna answer.”

Frank chuckled and shook his head

“Well if you want to learn to fight, this isn’t the best place. I know Vinny the owner and he’s a shit teacher. But if you want to learn for real, I’m happy to teach you.”

“What? Wait really? Wait, Frank you know how to fight?”

“Sweetheart, I was a Marine for over 15 years, ‘course I know how to fight.”

“And you’d do that for me?”

“Course. You’re Red's girl. What times’ he leave for his little night job?”

“9:00”

“Great, meet me here at 9:30. Tonight.”

And that was how you ended up here, collapsing on the gym mat beneath you with a groan.

“Not bad for your first time. We just gotta get you in the habit of resetting your hands after every hit, and you’ll be golden” Frank praises again

“Oh yeah, I forgot, always protect the face so I don’t end up lookin like you.” you jest

“Ouch” he feigns hurt with a smirk on his face “Red teach you to swing low like that?”

“Nah Castle, that’s all me. It’s part of why he loves me. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you then.”

By the time Matt returns home, you’re showered and in bed, sore muscles pulsing every time you twist and turn in your sleep. Between the smell of sweaty clothes in the hamper and the scent of your freshly washed skin rubbing against silk sheets, plus the heat radiating off your sore muscles as he crawls into bed silently beside you, Matt figures it out pretty quickly.

‘She started going back to the gym. Hmm. Have to ask her about that in the morning.’ he thinks as he drifts off beside you.

You awake in the morning to gentle hands rubbing at your back.

“Mmm morning Matty” you mumble, still pulling yourself out of sleep

“Morning sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works a little lower down your spine

“Giving you a massage. I can tell you’re sore. When did you start going back to the gym?”

“Just yesterday. And you’re right I’m super sore. Thank you, this is a nice way to start my day.”

“Of course sweetheart. What gym did you go to? Did you have fun?” he inquires

His innocent prodding has you waking fully quickly, trying to cover your tracks without outright lying and getting caught.

“Oh this gym near work. Couple people in the office recommended it. And yeah I had fun.”

All truths.

“That’s nice. Mmmm do you want to start the coffee or shower first?” he asks, seemingly letting the subject go

Perfect.

As you rush around to get ready for work, Matt grabs the laundry hamper from the bathroom, walking it over to the washing machine. Your dirty workout clothes from the night before sit on top, now less potent that they have completely dried. But he can’t help but feel like something smells off.

Sure it smells like you - natural scent mixed with your fading sweat, but there’s something else. Something familiar. A very subtle hint of spiciness mixed with… is that gunpowder?

‘Weird’ Matt thinks to himself, but brushes it off a moment later, the smell not strong enough to really garner more than a passing thought.

But three times he does the laundry in a row, he smells it. It’s so subtle, he might not even give it another thought, but it’s just so damn familiar.

It takes another week for him to ask you about it.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been going to the gym a lot lately,” he mentions over dinner

“Mmmhmm. Yeah, can you feel my muscles growing? I’m feeling stronger.” you reply

“Yeah. What exactly are you doing at the gym? It’s really working.”

“Oh a little cardio, a little strength, you know…” you skirt around, being intentionally vague

“That’s good. Is it like a class or?”

“Um sort of. Just this guy at the gym, he’s been helping me. You know, walking me through the exercises.”

Also technically the truth.

“That’s good. Well, I’m glad you found something you like.”

‘Okay, so that guy must smell like this. She’s close enough to him in a warm sweaty gym, so there’s a little bit on her clothes. Makes sense.’ Matt thinks to himself. But he still can’t shake the feeling that that smell is so familiar.

Two weeks later, Matt is out on patrol when he hears a familiar heartbeat on the fire escape a few floors down from where he’s perched.

Frank.

“You just gonna sit there all night, listinin’ Red?” Frank asks

“Very funny Frank.” Matt says, hopping down to Frank’s level

“Haven’t seen you in a while” Matt comments

“Been busy. Madani’s been usin’ me more.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going legit Frank.”

“Not a shot in hell, Red. But gotta pay the bills somehow.”

And then a strong breeze blows. Frank’s signature blend of sweat, aftershave, and metallic mixed with gunpowder from all the weapons he handles overwhelms Matt’s nose. Matt cocks his head in confusion. It’s so damn familiar. But of course it is, it’s Frank. How many times has Matt been on a rooftop with him like this, bs-ing the night away while monitoring the city?

After catching up for a bit, they go their separate ways, the rest of Matt’s evening turning uneventful.

He returns home to you shortly after 3 am, your soft breathing as you sleep calms him as he strips off his suit.

You hadn’t met with Frank tonight. He said something about following a lead and you were perfectly fine with that, you needed an off day.

Matt curls up in bed beside you, resting his head on your back and falling asleep quickly.

The next night, Frank is really putting you through your paces and you swear you’re ready to collapse when he finally calls it for the night.

Per usual, Frank offers to walk you home when you’re done and for the first time since you started coming here, you accept the offer since you stayed a bit later than usual tonight. At least until you can make it to Hell’s Kitchen and within range of Matt.

You and Frank make small talk as you go and eventually, the chill of the autumn air has you shivering in your still-damp-from-sweat workout clothes.

“Here sweetheart,” Frank says with a lopsided smirk, slinging his worn jacket over your shoulders.

“Thank you Castle. Always a gentleman.”

“Course, ‘specially for Red’s girl.”

You make it to 35th and 10th, close enough to home and hand his jacket back to him, parting ways with a nod and a polite “goodnight.”

The later hour coupled with the particularly intense session has you collapsing into bed without even removing your shoes, let alone your gym clothes.

When Matt returns a few hours later, the smell hits him like a truck.

‘I swear to god Frank, if you’re bleeding on my couch again…’ Matt thinks to himself.

But when he enters the apartment the only heartbeat he can hear is yours. He inches slowly toward the bedroom and rolls the door open gently. He reaches down to feel the soft lycra of your leggings on your body, careful not to stir you from your slumber. The smell of your sweat clinging to your clothes fills his senses, way more potent than normal plus that other scent you’re bringing home from the gym. Matt pauses to wonder why he thought Frank was here but then it hits him.

Oh my god. The mystery smell from the gym you’ve been bringing home is Frank.

But how could you smell like…

And then the gears in his head start turning. And he feels like a goddamn idiot.

You had been going to the gym. But not to work out. You were cheating. With Frank of all people. And you’d made the critical error of not showering when you got home.

Matt begins to pace the apartment, rubbing at his chin as his thoughts move a million miles a minute about what to do.

Did he confront you? Did he confront Frank?! What should he even say?

The sun rises and he’s still pacing and contemplating when his alarm rings out. He shuts it off before it can wake you too. He needs more time to think about his next move. He gets ready for work quietly and slips out the door before you awake.

You find it odd you haven’t heard from Matt all day. When you woke up you saw his Devil suit in a heap in the living room and there was no damage to it or blood on it. So you knew he had come home and was relatively okay. But it was so odd for him to leave without a goodbye kiss or go this long in the day without so much as a text. But he had been busy with a heavy caseload lately. You finally break shortly after lunch and text him first.

“Hey Matty. Know you’re busy but I miss you and I love you. Dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Working late. Don’t wait up.” He responds

That was… oddly curt. But again you figure he’s stressed and busy.

Matt on the other hand has been wracked with stress all day. It only took an hour of his constant pacing and fidgeting for Foggy to break and finally ask.

“Matt. What’s up?”

“I think… I think I’m being cheated on.” Matt confesses. He leaves the Frank part out of the equation, wanting Foggy to be as objective as possible about his response.

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“She’s been going to the gym like every night for a month now right when I leave for patrol and she came home last night smelling like… another man. And she’s been smelling like it a little the whole month but last night it was all over her”

“So did you ask her?”

“Well no but…”

“Matt you are literally a human lie detector and yet here you are jumping to conclusions instead of doing the rational thing and just asking her.”

And maybe Matt would have taken Foggy’s advice if he thought you were just cheating with your gym trainer. But this was Frank. And that made it all the more complicated.

Matt decides finally what he’s going to do. He’s going to follow you tonight, catch you in the act and confront both of you together.

Matt still hadn’t come home when you depart for your nightly workout session, but little did you know he’s there. Pacing on the roof, waiting for you to leave. As soon as he hears the lobby door shut behind you, he springs in to action, taking the stairs two at a time into the apartment and changing out of his lawyer suit and into his devil suit as quickly as possible, making sure not to lose your heartbeat now a block and a half away. He makes up for the lost distance quickly and is practically on top of you by the time you enter the gym.

“Hey Frank” you call out as you enter

“Hey. I’ll be over in a second.” he replies from the locker rooms

Matt crouches down by the side of the building, just close enough to the windows to hear everything going on inside.

You’re almost done wrapping your hands when Frank emerges from the locker room.

“Alright let’s start with our usual, then you can have a go at me again.”

“I don’t know Frank. You really wore me out last night. I woke up still in my clothes and shoes.”

Matt knew it. He fucking knew it.

“Tough shit sweetheart,” Frank responds with a chuckle. “And what did your boyfriend think about that huh? He got any idea what we’re doing here yet?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear from him at all today. Which is weird even for him. And no I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually”

“No, I don’t”

“So what you’re just gonna keep sneakin’ around, becoming a prize fighter without him gettin’ suspicious? Shit even a regular guy would raise some alarm bells by now, but especially Red and all his … shit”

“Frank, I am not here trying to become a prize fighter. I’m just trying to get strong enough to defend myself if he’s not around to do it. That’s all”

Matt’s heart drops.

How could he possibly think you were cheating? And with Frank of all people. He felt like an idiot. Like a total asshole. Sure you had lied, well, technically withheld the truth and he’s sure you’ll explain why. And he’s hurt if you wanted to learn to fight that you didn’t come to him. But this was not nearly as egregious a stain on your relationship as he thought it was.

“I don’t know. Think you should tell him. Show him your moves. Shit, you’ve gotten a couple good hits on me these last few days I’m sure you could give Red a run for his money.”

“I am not fighting Matt, Francis.” You say with an eye roll

Matt listens for the next hour as Frank talks you through a few hitting drills, then the two of you sparring. Frank is clearly taking it easy on you, but Matt is still impressed by what he could tell of what you were doing. He absolutely would need to take you on to really gauge your skills.

Franks's phone rings out just as you’re cooling down with some stretches.

He answers and speaks for a few minutes.

“Alright sorry to jet out of here but Madani has somethin urgent for me. You good to get home alright?”

“Yeah, thanks Frank. See you tomorrow.”

Frank gives you a fist bump and then disappears through the front door. Matt uses the opportunity to sneak in just before the door slams closed behind Frank.

You’re sitting on the floor undoing your wraps as he finally speaks up.

“If you wanted to opportunity to hit Frank, I’m sure I could have arranged it some other way”

Your spine goes icy cold at the sound of the voice behind you.

“Matt… I” you stumble to explain.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Matt says, hands up in surrender before reaching up to remove his mask

“What are you doing here?” You ask, ready for him to chew you out for your little secret.

“Alright if I’m honest, do you promise you’ll be honest?” He asks

“Yes.”

“I followed you here because I thought you were cheating. With Frank. And I know now that’s not what’s happening. And I’m sorry for not just asking you.” He confesses with a sigh

“Oh Matt. I’m so sorry that I did anything to make you think that. That’s not at all what’s happening here.”

“I know. Been listening all night so I know. But I have to know why. Why are you doing this and why didn’t you tell me? And Frank? Really?”

“It’s a long story. Can I tell you while we walk home?”

And so you do. By the time you make it home to your apartment, you’ve come clean about the incident at work and running into Frank and how he’d been coaching you the last few weeks, and why you were so hesitant to ask Matt to be the one to do it.

Matt is oddly quiet through your explanation but nods as you speak. He finally speaks up just as you’re unlocking the front door.

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t ask me. But now that I know, I am curious…”

“You want to see how much I’ve learned?”

He nods enthusiastically

“Fine. I guess since now you know you can join us tomorrow. If you want.”

“Perfect, I’ll be there”

He tucks you in to bed with a gentle kiss before heading out on patrol again, no longer clouded by doubts about your relationship.

—

When you arrive at the gym the next night, Matt is already there, looking extra adorable in his gray sweatpants and messy hair.

It’s all so familiar to him - the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the smell of sweat and heat, the gym mat sticking beneath his bare feet with every step. Just like Fogwells when he was a kid. He feels at home here.

“Hey sweetheart” he greets you with a kiss

“Hey Matty” you can’t help but smile whenever you see him after a long day “Frank texted me, he’s running late, but um do you want to help me warm up?”

Matt’s face lights up with excitement. “Yes. Okay. What does Frank normally have you do?”

“Two rounds of jab crosses on the bag. Three minutes each.”

“Okay, have at it”

You wrap your hands and begin hitting the bag. Not even thirty seconds in, Matt speaks up.

“Woah woah woah. Frank has been letting you hit like this and not correcting your form?”

“Yes. Wait, what the hell is wrong with my form?”

“You’re too far away from the bag. I can hear your shoulder joint rubbing every time you jab, which means you’re over-extending that left arm. Makes you put way too much energy into each hit, you’re gonna wear yourself out way faster. Here. Step closer.”

Matt moves behind you to help you correct your position, then lets you take a few more punches.

“See? More power, less effort.”

“Yeah. Any other pointers?”

Matt places his hands on your shoulders and places his feet right beside yours, pressing his body tight against your back. You never thought of boxing as particularly erotic, especially not with Frank teaching you. But with Matt’s breath against your ear, you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine straight to your core.

“Go ahead, gimme a few more, I want to feel how your body moves. See just what else Frank has been teaching you wrong.”

“Matt…” the words die on your lips. You want to speak up and defend how kind Frank has been these past few weeks to spend the time to teach you, but Matt’s sweet whisper of encouragement has you forgetting anything else but him.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t get all shy on me. You hesitate like this for Frank?”

“N..no.” you stutter, then weakly throw out a few more punches

Matt chuckles, knowing just how much he’s winding you up with so little.

“Put a little more power behind them. Don’t let me being here hold you back.”

You try to do as he says and throw some real hits, but Matt is still pressed right against you.

God, his body is warm usually, but being flush behind you as you move and hit, he practically feels like white-hot iron against you. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and it’s not just from the few minutes of warming up you’ve done. You know Matt can hear it and is going to play you like a fiddle. His own wicked form of punishment for not telling him about your training.

His hands drop from your shoulders, running down your back lightly and coming to rest on your hips. He plants a soft kiss right under your ear.

“You’ve been working hard. Maybe Frank does know what he’s doing.”

He places a second kiss a little lower down your neck.

“You throw any actual punches at him yet?” he asks

“A few. Landed some of them too.”

A third, fourth, and fifth kiss down your neck, working his way toward your shoulder. His stubble is coarse against your skin, sending goosebumps across your flesh, your toes curling into the squishy mat beneath you.

“Mmm that’s my girl.” he says, as he begins sucking on your neck, his right hand snaking around to your front, tickling at the top of your leggings.

“Matty” you chastise

“What?” he feigns ignorance

“Matthew. Do not start something you can’t finish. Frank will be here any minute.”

“You said he’d be late.”

“His text said ‘a few minutes’ and that was already several minutes ago.”

“Well I can’t hear his heartbeat yet, so we’ve got at least five.”

You want to protest more, you really do, but you just can’t resist Matt.

Laughing low, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his steady breath against your exposed skin a stark contrast to the growing labor of your exhales. You spread your legs a little wider. He takes the invitation and reaches his hand fully into your leggings, using a finger to circle your sensitive bud.

You throw your head back onto his chest with a moan, his name falling from your lips in a breathy whisper.

He continues to suck on your neck as works at your core, finally sliding a finger inside you, then another.

You reach forward to grab the boxing bag for stability, Matt’s touch causing you to writhe enough that you’re not sure you’re able to stay standing without it. As you thrash against him, he inhales deeply, a mix of your natural scent and your arousal consuming his lungs.

In order to get you exactly where he wants you, he keeps a quick pace, knowing he does not have a lot of time. His rhythm never falters, stroking you over and over in that perfect spongy spot inside you. It’s not long before you're coming apart with a cry of his name.

Just as your head stops spinning and you’re returning to earth, Matt is turning you around and connecting his lips with yours. So hungry to have you, he guides you back a few steps, never breaking his lips from yours, and pushes you against the wall behind you.

His kisses grow more and more desperate, sending an electric tingle down your spine, though that could also be because the wall behind you is made of mirrors and the glass is cool against the heated skin not protected by your sports bra.

As soon as you make contact with the wall, his hands are back on your hips, pushing your leggings and panties down in a heap on the sticky mat beneath you. His clothes soon follow.

You throw your leg up and around his hip, opening yourself to him. An offer he quickly accepts. A soft gasp simultaneously escapes both your lips, the relief between the two of you as he guides himself slowly into your wet and eager core until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Restless fingers reach down to wrap your other leg around him, now fully holding you in the air against the mirrored wall behind you.

He repeats the pace of his fingers only moments ago and slams into you harshly and quickly, over and over again, desperate to feel you release around him again, knowing Frank could appear at any moment.

God, your familiar warm heat is absolute perfection, he thinks as he continues to bury himself into you over and over again. You’re still incredibly worked up from your previous climax and it takes just a few thrusts for you to be close again. The way your body is clamping around him and tensing lets him know just how close to ecstasy you are again.

Matt leans forward and you can feel his quickening breath against your ear once more.

“Damnit sweetheart, you scared me so bad. Made me think I was sharing you with someone else.” he grunts as he continues to drive his hips against yours.

“No Matty. I’m yours. Only yours — oh God. I promise.” you whimper back, arching into him further.

“Good. But to make sure you don’t forget, I’m gonna cum inside you, right now and every single night before you leave. So I’m dripping out of you after every hit, every kick. No matter how much Frank trains you. So you remember exactly who. You. Belong to.” he growls lowly against your skin, pushing you even more firmly against the cool glass with every thrust.

“Yes. Please Matt — Fuck. I’m all yours. I promise. Please.”

He thrusts one more time before he cums with a rumble of your name, his arms tightening around you, holding you impossibly close as he releases inside you just as he promised.

As he grinds against you in just the right way to hit that perfect spot one more time, your own orgasm sweeps over you. Your nails dig into his back, holding on to him as you let go, his harsh thrusts now slowed just enough so he can keep the both of you upright.

He feels you release, causing a final low groan from him, slowing down his pace, as your molten pleasure fades away. Still consumed by him and the feel of him holding you close, you lean your head back to rest against the mirror behind you as you catch your breath. Just as you feel like fully slumping against him, he sets you down gently.

You don't even really register him pulling away from you until he speaks.

“Might want to put your pants back on. Frank’s a block away and I don’t think you want him to know how I warmed you up before he got here.”

You open your eyes and see that Matt is already dressed, a smirk painted across his face as he listens to you scramble to put your clothes on.

Just as you’re adjusting your leggings back in to place, Frank and his large frame enter the gym.

“Hey –” he pauses at the sight of you and Matt in front of him, both sweaty and still panting a little.

“Hmmm. Guess Red knows now.” Frank grumbles

But then his eyes go wide.

“You wanna tell me what that’s about?” he asks with a point of his finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you turn behind you to see what he’s asking about. The mirror is covered in smudges that look vaguely like the outline shape of your body.

“We don’t talk about what happens at fight club…” Matt jokes as you bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.

My Masterlist

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #frank castle #frank castle x reader #charlie cox #nmcu fic #mcu fic #daredevil fic #matt murdock x you #marvel daredevil #daredevil imagine

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mothdruid · 7 months ago

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Within the past 72 hours the TGM fandom got a fire put under it's ass, for lack of a better term/phrase. Even though I'm not as active in the fandom anymore, it did make me want to talk about a few things. This isn't the first time that I've had to make a post similar to this, usually speaking about reblogs and keeping your fanfic writers feeling wanted within the fandom spaces, but today I'm going to talk more about fandom etiquette and my experiences in fandom spaces. So, if you want to hear my opinion on fandom etiquette, how I learned fandom etiquette, and my thoughts about the doxing situation that has happened, keep on reading.

My Fandom Experience.

The first fandom that I was ever a part of was The Hunger Games fandom in the 8th grade (if you don't include my anime fandoms). I was 12-13 at the time. This was when I was first introduced to Tumblr and being involved within a fandom online. At the time I was super young, barely even knew who I was as a person, let alone in a fandom space. All I did was reblog little gifsets and fawn over Josh Hutcherson. I remember getting my first hate anon, even though I didn't do anything that would generate that to even happen. Even when I was 12-13, I couldn't understand why anyone would send a hate anon. That was when I found out a friend of mine found my Tumblr and actually secretly hated me, so she sent me hate anons. Still, before I knew it was her I didn't understand.

Fandoms were a formative part of my childhood. I think that main one that helped form me though was the Supernatural (yeah, I know, eye roll), Naruto, and The Hobbit fandoms. I had made friends on Tumblr and Instagram through these fandoms. During these times was when I had first started consuming fanfiction. Specifically, destiel and thilbo fanfiction. This is how I started to find the things in fanfiction that I loved, and the things that I hated. Instead of sending hate to the writers for their thoughts and stories that I didn't agree with, I would back out of the story or just scroll past. Not only that, I also started to use the filters on AO3 constantly, ensuring that I was only reading the fics that I knew I'd enjoy. Also, I was careful to read warnings and tags prior to reading the fic. Never once did I blame the writer for something that I knew I didn't like and accidentally read or read for see what it was about.

After high school was when I started getting into fanfiction writing. I've written for a lot of fandoms during this time. The IT movies, Total Drama, Haikyuu, Attack on Titan, Marvel, Bridgerton, Top Gun: Maverick, and currently ASOIAF. As a writer I've never gotten hate, thankfully, but I have had a lot of friends that have. It's sad to see so many people who take the time to write, whether it's enjoyable or not, receive hate. As writers we are simply expressing our creativity for the things that we love. Since posting fanfiction on tumblr, I have experienced a lot of people pestering for new updates and when the next fic is, and so have a lot of other writers on here. Even though people only know us as a little icon and username, fanfiction writers are people. We have lives outside of writing fanfiction. Everyone also isn't the same type writer. One person may easily write multiple fics every week, some of us take longer, and some of us are even just passion writers (me lol).

The TGM fandom has been one of the most negative fandom experiences I've ever seen/had. It is full of some of the meanest people/anons I've ever seen. From writers being attacked for fic ideas, people being sent hate for something that the anon has full control over, and people constantly expecting new stories to read on the daily. Yes, I do know that other fandoms have these issues, but it seems to be almost a weekly, hell, even daily thing within this fandom. A lot of the issues that I see happen in this fandom are from people who don't understand fandom etiquette.

Fandom Etiquette.

If you had noticed there was a few things I put in bold above. These are key things that I learned during my time that attribute to fandom etiquette. So without further a do, I'll list out some fandom etiquette rules that I follow all the time.

Don't send hate anons to people

Block/unfollow people you don't like

If you don't like an idea or fic, don't read it

Read through all warnings and tags that the writer provided

Use AO3 filters

Don't blame the writer/creator for reading things they created that you actively know you don't like

Writers/Creators aren't "content farms"

There are people behind these blogs/usernames, treat them like someone you'd see on the street

Writers/Creators are expressing love/passion for something, don't hate them for doing that

If you see something fandom related that you don't like, scroll past it or ignore it

YOU CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE (ESPECIALLY ON TUMBLR)

The Doxing Situation.

For those who are unaware but decided to read this anyways, recently there was a writer (Mama Mayhem) on here who got doxed from another writer in the fandom. Mayhem has since lost her job due to the doxing. This was apparently from her breaking HIPAA by posting a picture into a private groupchat/discord. This picture was posted almost a half year ago. Meaning that the person who reported/doxed Mayhem had known about this picture for months and only recently decided to do something about it.

I'll start by saying that I also work in healthcare, and know many other people here who do. I understand that a HIPAA violation is 100% an offense that gets you fired. I'm not excusing the HIPAA violation if one did occur.

Some people have brought up the idea that maybe the person that reported the picture, and doxed Mayhem, was doing it out of the goodness of their heart. Due to the timeline of it all, that doesn't seem likely. I had a previous coworker get fired for HIPAA violations and it took a total of a week from the initial report for her to be gone.

The biggest thing I want to convey is that TWO WRONGS CAN HAPPEN AT THE SAME TIME. Yes, if Mayhem violated HIPAA, it is wrong. But at the same time, the person held onto this information for months only to use it out of spite, pettiness, and cruelty, is wrong.

My Thoughts.

Due to Mayhem being doxed, a lot of people have decided to leave this platform, take indefinite hiatuses, stop writing, or move to AO3 exclusively., and I don't blame them. I'll be honest, I'm thinking about moving to AO3 exclusively now. AO3 feels a lot more rewarding in my experience. I already only post my fics for ships to AO3, so why not just post everything on AO3 (which I usually do).

I think a lot of people have forgot what it feels like to feel shame in something they say or do. When I say this, it's directed towards people who send hate or do other malicious things in fandom spaces. Fandoms were never this clique-ish and mean. I think it has to do with the pandemic, meaning that a lot of people who would have never joined a fandom did because they weren't allowed to do anything outside of their house. So, those mean girls that made fun of fandom girlies (g/n) previously, joined the fandoms and decided started bullying the people within them.

This situation is super shitty and people are now scared. It makes complete sense, especially after seeing someone, that many of you were close to, be doxed. A lot of people are scared of it happening to them now. I don't think this fandom will be the same after this situation, but who knows, maybe everyone will just forget and move on. Either way, I think I'll be taking a step back from the TGM fandom. I'll still be here, but until further notice, I won't be posting any TGM fanfiction. Maybe a gifset/picture here and there, but I don't think this is a fandom I feel comfortable writing for anymore.

If you've read all of this, thank you.

#moth talks #here it is #sorry it's so long but i couldn't convey my thoughts any other way

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eebibly · 1 month ago

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Why was it so hard to include Loke as one of the main side characters (for lack of a better term)? And by that I mean like not the main Lucy/Natsu/Gray/Erza/Happy gang, but as important as Wendy/Carla, the Strauss siblings, Gajeel, Laxus/Thunder Legion, Levy/Panther, Cana, etc. Obviously I’m coming from a fav character bias, but I also think it would’ve made sense narratively and for his character development.

One of the running themes in Fairy Tail is “Found Family”. And out of place or not, while he is pretending to be a wizard, it’s evident that he’s made himself at home in Fairy Tail. It was a place to call home while he was suffering. Not only that, he did make genuine friendships there. Close enough that when he quit out of the blue, the whole guild went looking for him. So close, in fact, that Gray asked him to be his partner for the S-Class trials (which, by the way, was a super fun time having him back). Actually, Tenrou was probably the last time he was properly accepted as a member of Fairy Tail.

So, what? He gets saved by Lucy and because of that he just doesn’t care anymore? “All right, character growth chyeck ✔️. Hehe, glad I don’t have to worry about that character anymore. It’s not like he has any residual trauma left from previous abusive masters, and he doesn’t miss his Fairy Tail fam in anyway way shape or form!” Like, it’s almost absurd how little of his character is explored. What does it mean for him to be the leader of the Zodiac? Has he ever met a good celestial wizard before Lucy? How much power does he actually have when not limited by Lucy’s limited magical power? (Which is also annoying, btw, cuz supposedly he should be getting more powerful whenever Lucy gains power, and yet it feels like he keeps getting weaker while Lucy unlocks more abilities. How is that fair???) Even Kagura got more character development than Loke and she’s not even part of Fairy Tail (I love Kagura btw, just trying to make a point).

Also, just exploring what he himself represents could be so interesting. Between being Leo the Lion and wielding Regulus (AKA the light of the king), he should be a symbol of leadership and power. I’m not saying that means he shouldn’t be his goofy, flirty self. If anything, that’s a duality that he could learn to live with. It could be either a struggle or something fun about this phase in his eternal life where he’s sort of half spirit, half human. Why aren’t we allowed to experience that with him?

I have many more qualms about Fairy Tail and how it’s written, it’s just that Loke and the celestial spirits are my favs and therefore it’s easier for me to talk about them. But if anyone is curious about my other thoughts about other events or characters, I’d love to answer those lol. I love this anime for some reason and its characters and I have such a weird obsession with how flawed it is. But until Fairy Tail magically becomes the perfect story I imagine it to be, I need to vent my irrational frustrations somewhere and coming back to Tumblr’s been fun so far so imma be here from time to time lol.

#fairy tail #loke fairy tail #fairy tail 100 years quest #celestial spirits #irrational frustrations/obsession #pls help aaa #love loke too much whyyyy

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many-but-one · 2 years ago

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Hey! Why did I split over something not even THAT traumatic??

I'm here to tell you. :)

So, this particular discussion has come up in our system server before and it's actually something I've wanted to talk about for a long time on Tumblr because I've never actually seen someone talk about this, and I am being hit with a sudden god-like hubris at 3 in the morning, so here we go!

So your question was "Why did I just split? What just happened wasn't even that traumatic. I've been through so much worse in the past, I don't even feel that stressed. What the hell? Am I just making this new part up?" and on and on. The idea that only the most awful and traumatic things are what cause splits in DID (especially later in life, after the childhood trauma window of 7-9ish has ended and especially in adulthood) is actually incredibly false, and I am about to explain why.

Note: This is about traumagenic DID systems, so endogenic systems, please stay off of this post thank you. :) /not mad

Note number two: I do want to get out of the way, that all parts DO split for a reason, there's no parts that exist for no reason (even if the reason doesn't seem relevant to you now, it may have been relevant at the time of the split, OR may have been somehow relevant to your brain even if it doesn't make sense to you now.) So I want to make it really clear that splits do not occur only because of hyperfixations. There typically has to be something going on for a split to occur, and hyperfixation alone will not cut it. Alright, now that I've got that out of the way, let's talk about how DID brains run on patterns.

DID brains run on patterns, like I said. All brains do, actually, but DID brains take it to an nth degree because these patterns that it learns are what help it stay alive in a distressing and traumatic environment during childhood. Our brains are remarkably plastic and they will do whatever is necessary to survive a given situation. It's why something like DID can even exist.

So what kind of patterns do we typically see in brains with DID? Well, the easiest one is that a lot of people with DID have pretty similar alter "types" or "roles." This is just a widespread pattern that you see across a large demographic of systems. It's why terms like "gatekeeper" and "protector" and "caretaker" exist. Because nearly all DID systems have parts that fill those roles, even if those roles aren't filled in the most "traditional" sense. DID is rarely random, every part exists for an express reason, and that reason is almost always symbolic in some way, even if it doesn't seem like it now. Once you start learning trauma memories and WHY parts exist, you very quickly start to see the symbolism and sometimes it is absolutely fucking terrifying, to say the least.

What other patterns are common?

Well, patterns we see in our own system and in other systems are something quite literally called "splitting patterns" which are more common in polyfragmented systems but not exclusive to them. This has various ways of showing itself, and the user @foreverfragmented made a post awhile back that I'm having a really hard time finding, HOWEVER I did screenshot the section about splitting patterns when I first read it, attached below:

Wow that photo ended up bigger than I thought it would be. lol. Anyway. Those are another example of splitting patterns. (Note: in the original post, FF talks about how some of the terms above were coined by them or other systems, so not recognized medically, however I think they were worded perfectly which is why I shared them here.)

Another few examples include alter templates (AKA, splitting the same alter over and over in varying iterations), the same parts going out for the same types of trauma every single time, and why certain alter roles very often have the same "flavor" of personality.

For example, gatekeepers are often considered a bit cold and distant, and can be very analytically minded and rarely react purely on emotion alone. (I feel like the most common gatekeeper Myers-Briggs has gotta be INTJ...that was a joke, lmao.) This is typically for a reason. You have to have a certain mindset and a certain way of handling things to be able to properly manage a system. And this is not to say all gatekeepers are this way, but the pattern of a LOT of gatekeepers being like this is not unnoticed. Our DID specialist could tell pretty early on that our primary gatekeeper (James) was a gatekeeper long before he ever told her he was simply because of how he held himself, how he spoke about others in the system, and how much he despised her for "stepping on his toes"😂 They work together much better now, FYI, but it was rough in the beginning.

An example of alter templates in our system in particular is what we call the "Michaels." They were some of our earliest alters, and our brain was like "hey this guy is working really well, so I'm just gonna keep doing it." And it worked! Then, when trauma shifted to something completely different but in the same vein (CSA) our brain once again attempted to use this "Michael" template. It didn't work quite the same. And so our brain had to figure out these new patterns, which it was fucking desperate to do because we were going through some heinous shit that it could hardly even comprehend. I've learned that basically every blue-eyed white-haired motherfucker in here was a Michael copy at one point, but had elaborated into some other version that suited its job more.

Now, for the example that is going to actually help me explain the answer to the question posed at the very beginning of this post: alters who go out for the same things over and over.

So, depending on splitting tolerance, or whatever you happen to be going through in your childhood, you will likely have various "groups" of alters that handle certain things. If you had a particularly tumultuous childhood with several varying types of traumas, you will probably have several of these groups. And depending on length of trauma time, severity of trauma time, and levels of support during trauma time, these groups may be very large.

For example, if you had a situation like domestic violence (DV) happening in your household, you will have a part or parts dedicated just for DV, and if you also had CSA going on, you will have a separate group of parts (or a single part) who handles only the CSA. Unless your system is quite small and you have alters take multiple types of abuses, this is pretty commonly the case. [Note: want to say this is not subsystems unless these groups are highly separated via either amnesia barriers or inner world (IW) barriers, and have better communication with each other versus the rest of the system. The definition of subsystem gets a little funky, but we're not talking about that. Just wanted to make that clear. You can have groups of alters without them being subsystems.]

"Okay, so yeah, you're right. I have alter groups for [insert various traumas] what does that have to do with me splitting over [insert mundane thing that isn't even really traumatic]?"

Continuing on the "DID brains run on patterns" line of thinking, if your brain has patterns set and understood for the various traumas that you lived through in your childhood, usually up until teen years or adulthood, your brain knows what to do when those traumas occur again. The patterns are set. It's why it's super common for people with DID who experience SA in teen or adult years and don't end up having a split. Unless they have an extremely low splitting tolerance or the situation is extremely unique, the brain will just recycle what it already has. No need to go through the literally massively painful and traumatic experience of splitting again for something it already knows how to handle. This being said, the part that experiences this might end up splitting at a much later date if this trauma is far too difficult for it to handle, this is also common because sometimes it's "easy" to handle the trauma in the moment because they're used to this flavor of trauma but the processing of said trauma afterward can be just as traumatic and can cause a split.

Same if your father was super abusive to your mother, or vise versa, and you happen to have an abusive partner. That pattern is known and comfortable. That's what professionals mean by "DID systems are more likely to be victims of abuse than perpetrators." They return to the comfortable patterns, which, with DID, equals abuse. Things outside of those patterns are dangerous and confusing to navigate and the brain will avoid that at all costs.

However, and this is the answer to the question. What happens when something happens that the brain doesn't recognize in its "pattern database"? I'll give an example.

Say you were very high achieving in school. This is pretty common of systems who were diagnosed in adulthood, so far as I've seen. You likely did really well, had really high marks because your parents expected it of you or were abusive and angry if you didn't constantly constantly succeed in their eyes. This can also reflect in sports, clubs, musical talents, etc. This pattern continues on in adulthood. You push yourself very hard to be high achieving. Whether this be in a college setting, a work setting, etc. You are likely often doing well in those fields pre-system discovery, at least. Post discovery often leads to the "spiraling" phase, which sucks but again that's not what we're discussing.

So, say you have a job. You're hella good at it. You are always receiving praise, you are always getting raises, your reviews are always hella good. You're like "okay yeah, I'm good at this job, so I'm going to apply to a higher paid position in the company that just opened up."

And then...you don't get the job. Well, that sucks. Better luck next time, right?

Wrong. Well, not entirely. That's completely true. But that's not how your brain is actually processing this, is it?

You might tell yourself "oh well" but in your high achieving brain's POV, it's like "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???? WE DON'T DO THE FAILURE STUFF!!! WHAT THE F***!!!" And it might panic, and several alters might panic, and the host might panic, and suddenly they're spiraling out of control over something that is mildly disappointing at best. Because WE DON'T HAVE A GUY FOR THIS?! We have a guy for SA, we have a guy for DV, we have a guy for medical trauma, we have a guy for bullying, etc. But we don't have a guy for REJECTION?! AHHH! [splits a part just to handle rejection.]

In adulthood, I've noticed both in myself and other systems I frequently speak to, these highly specialized parts are more commonly split in adulthood. Because while patterns are super helpful in childhood when you're experiencing the generally same shit over and over, in adulthood or even late teen years, there's so many effing unknowns that the brain is just like "what the actual fuck is this, this doesn't follow the fucking SCRIPT you guys. The PATTERNS?? Do they mean nothing to you??"

DID is a disorder that is incredibly helpful for survival in childhood and is an absolutely miserable crutch to live with in adulthood. And that's not me saying it super sucks all the time, but the disorder is not meant to happen, it shouldn't have happened, and coping with it without therapy and proper integration of parts and memories just makes adulthood kind of a hellscape, to be frank. There are tons of positives, I am so thankful, don't get me wrong. But there are a lot of downsides too.

So, to kind of drive home some examples of things that can cause a split that might not even be inherently traumatic based on my own experience and the experiences of some folks in our system server:

-(TW: mild NSFW in this one) We had our first consensual sexual experience when we were 19. We didn't have a guy for that. Everything we'd ever experienced throughout our childhood and teen years was not consensual. So when we were having consensual sex with our girlfriend, we were losing our mind because we didn't have this pattern integrated. So we split a guy whose literal only job was "consensual sex" and he was pretty much made to be the "perfect partner" for our girlfriend.

-We have a part whose only job is to play video games. We didn't know why until we realized he was fronting during stressful family gatherings and was playing videogames to pass the time until they were allowed to leave.

-We have a part that split only to handle our irrational fear of getting sick with a deadly illness right around COVID lockdown time.

-We had a part split just to internalize the feeling of "going to hell" due to our religious beliefs at the time.

-We have a lot of parts that split just to hold feelings of anger, sadness, or fear, even in adulthood. This is common in situations where anger or showing emotions was not allowed in childhood, so if the brain decides that's not allowed, when a part gets overly angry they might split a part to hold that anger, which then typically gets buried deep down.

Note about the above example: Trauma therapists often say that anger is one of the last emotions processed when processing traumatic events. Which is why "anger holding alters" are so so so fucking common. Kids and teens and adults get angry and if that's not allowed in some way shape or form, the brain will suppress it. It's also why it's common for people with DID to be able to "turn off" emotions or if triggered, will have a sudden intense burst of emotions (typically anger or frustration) because of how intensely repressed emotions often have to be just to survive living in a toxic environment that would cause something like DID. When you were a kid, you couldn't cry in front of your parents because you would be ridiculed or punished. So you will "turn it off" and go hide to cry later. But if, as an adult, you never let yourself "go cry later," that shit will build up and cause those intense emotional breakdowns, even after something that's considerably smaller scale than what you're used to. Kind of considered the "straw that broke the camel's back." You can be having a shit week with horrible thing after horrible thing and you're doing really well at "shutting it off" especially when around others, because god forbid you let the mask fall, and then suddenly you can't open a cheese stick or you can't find your keys so you might be late, or there's a stain on your shirt right before work, or the entire contents of your bag get dumped onto the floor of your car because you had to brake too hard...and that's when the breakdown happens.

Anyway, to get back on track, there are probably a plethora of other ways a system could split that seem mundane or "not that traumatizing" or alter roles might be super hyper-specific and the reasoning for that is because ✨patterns✨ We love to see it. /sar

Hope this was helpful! If you have further questions, feel free to hit up the ask box or the replies. :)

-Dori🌹

(Again, endos please don't interact, this is not for you. This is for the folks whose DID was caused via childhood trauma. These patterns likely would not exist in someone whose system didn't form from repeated traumas.)

#dorian🌹#advice #did #dissociation #dissociative identity disorder #did osdd #actually did #traumatized #actually traumatized #traumagenic did #endos dni #did alters #did therapy #did system #our brains are like supercomputers and I'm not even kidding #once it understands a pattern #it will quickly assimilate that pattern if the pattern continues to occur #DID brains are freaking incredible #also terrifying

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redeliminator · 3 months ago

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"A child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth"

(i remember seeing this quote here on tumblr in the context of zero day and it hit me so hard I've never forgotten it)

we don’t know the level of bullying Andre and/or Cal endured at school. we only got hints that they were bullied, but we never witnessed anything first-hand (excluding the hilarious fight after the poetry evening because let's face it, they started this shit lol).

how often were they insulted? did it ever get physical? were they beat up? were they deliberately isolated by their peers?

in the police report, we learn that “neither Kriegman nor Gabriel was singled out for teasing” and that they were generally liked. yeah I think I've heard that one before so let me rant before I fucking combust

many people, including even some investigators and psychologists, still refuse to acknowledge the toxic environment that Columbine was and the way it fueled Eric and Dylan’s mental conditions. bullying at Columbine was so common that it had long lost its shock value. being shoved into lockers and having shit thrown at you was just a part of many people’s average school day, and the faculty turned a blind eye to it in favor of the bullies because they carried the school’s reputation with their achievements, making them basically untouchable.

the alienation and the humiliation landed Eric and Dylan at a point where they couldn’t see past their suffering and frustration. they didn’t know how to cope with it other than (self-)destruction and no one managed to stop them. Columbine was a perfect storm, with many factors randomly playing out in Eric and Dylan’s favor and worsening their conditions at the same time.

bullying was not the sole reason they carried out the massacre, but denying its impact will not lead you anywhere near the truth.

Eric and Dylan both had friends and acquaintances. they spent time together and made memories just like all the other teenagers. the fact that they were on friendly terms with a number of people doesn’t rule out bullying from other groups and I can't stress that enough.

I can’t help but think that there might be a similar reasoning lying underneath the statement in the Zero Day police report. it’s easier to say that the kids never showed any signs, that they were not bullied, that they were mentally sick and beyond helping. it removes many (adult) people’s responsibility to look out for the signs, to intervene when it’s necessary, to recognize and address the silent cries for help. after all, if someone was a high-functioning psychopath who mastered the art of manipulation and hiding behind a mask, then was anyone really capable of helping them?

at some point, the built-up anger will start to pour out. there’ll be no way to keep it in anymore, no more room to store it. if no one has ever taught the kid how to deal with it, their self-hatred may start to turn outwards. they will no longer only hate themselves for not being able to fit in, for not managing to fulfill the social expectations of an average likable teenager. they will also hate the world for not letting them in. they will hate people who somehow found their place while they couldn’t. these people might have had nothing to do with the kid’s misery, many of them won’t even know the kid’s name, but that doesn’t matter. all these people will slowly morph into one big enemy unit. fellow students will be no individuals - they will be merely part of a larger hostile entity. when you hurt one of them, you hurt the big enemy - and that’s the objective.

#zero day #zero day 2003 #andre kriegman #cal gabriel

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cherry-flavoured-thot · 1 year ago

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i've got an obey me ask

imagine an mc that's just been plucked for the program being from the complete opposite end of the financial spectrum of our beloved cast of pixelated men.

an mc that grew up/was living paycheck to paycheck, barely able to make ends need and feed themselves. it'd be literally night to day with them. they'd gasp over price tags and shopping totals reading thousands of grimm, still stuck in the mindset of "that'll break the bank." a spreadsheet on their computer of their money spending and gaining (i can't remember the proper terms for that stuff, it's been a hot minute since i learned it all in middle school), a long list of things they think they could never stored somewhere.

sure, it'd be on their student file that that's what their life was back in the human world, but whether anyone knows or not besides them is up to you (id imagine lucifer would probably gloss over it completely in the rush of getting paperwork done so he can get to bed before 5am lol grumpy old man needs sleep). poor thing might break down if anyone knew..

sorry if this seems odd, i just feel that as someone who's right there in the pay-to-pay situation, i'd be in complete shock of being able to actually (and easily) afford things without having to debate whether i really needed it or earned it.

if anything in the text is broke, i blame tumblr desktop version. my phone isn't working the best so i had to move here from mobile ;-;

"You spent how much on....?" Is a question the mc repeats to every brother but with different things. Demonus, designer clothes, figurines, skincare products, food, books, ancient objects, new blankets and pillows etc. But no one really thinks too much of it, despite mc's shock every time.

It's not until Mammon complains one time about how broke he is, and mc turns to him, looking him dead in the face saying. "You could easily survive the week with that much." Then they proceed to write him up a budget with the minimal amount of Grimm in his account.

"...mc how did you do that?"

"Oh I'm a pro, I once lived off of five dollars and spite for a full week." Mammon, is casually bringing this up with Lucifer next time he sees him.

"You didn't mention mc was flat broke before comin' here."

"...that's because I wasn't aware." Lucifer is pulling up mc's student file, and there it is in big bold writing. Lucifer and Mammon both have a lightbulb moment, thinking about different occasions where the topic of money came up and mc was acting strange. "If I were you, I'd minimize mentions of your spending habits around mc."

"...yeah." Mammon feels so guilty. That not only does he stick to mc's budget, he always mentions to them when he's managed to save money rather than spend it. But he'll still be a devil on their shoulder encouraging them to splurge a little on themselves because they deserve it.

Lucifer, Satan and Asmodeus would be using this knowledge to let mc know they are providers. (Mammon would too. He would but his budget skills are bad so he's a sometimes provider!) They will always make sure mc is financially good, so feel free to spend (within reason - Lucifer would argue). (You deserve to be spoilt - Asmodeus, Satan)

Beelzebub and Leviathan, would just buy things for mc instead when the opportunity arises. Beel will always pay when inviting mc out for food, it's his treat. mc was talking about wanting to get a game? well they don't need to get because Levi had it express delivered to the front door. (Mammon would also do this when he has money lmao)

"If you want it just buy it." Belphegor is firmly in the middle ground, because he'll tiredly tell mc those words, when they've been debating aloud to get the thing in question. If they mention it's too expensive and talk themselves out of buying it. He just gets it for them.

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loupy-mongoose · 1 year ago

Note

Do you think there's room on Tumblr for blogs that exist primarily to tell stories, be they fanfic or otherwise, outside of the medium of comics? Obviously comic posts (and art in general) will always have more of an audience than writing, but I'm curious about your perspective since you've got a very long-term story that you've been telling (and telling quite well, if I might add)

That last sentence depends on your definition of "very" long-term. X3

I'd say so, sure! I quite enjoy writing parts on Tumblr--It feels good to use, utilizing the colored text and knowing some of the little shortcuts.

(Accidental infodump ahead, lol)

The following only applies to PC users, as far as I'm aware, but I just took a look at this thing that I've known about for awhile (it appears to not be present on custom blogs);

If you click it, it shows you some of the keyboard shortcuts available on Tumblr.

Here's the list specifically for writing in a post. (Use Command instead of Control on Mac keyboards)

I just learned how to make tiny text aaaaaaaaa :3

Some of these I knew about beforehand, like the Italic, Bold, and Colored Text shortcuts. But some are new to me, like the tiny text above.

Some unlisted shortcuts that I abuse the heck out of:

Ctrl + X = Cut Ctrl + C = Copy Ctrl + V = Paste

And using these, you can bypass the "Inline Link" one above. If you copy a link, then highlight text in the post and Ctrl-V, it automatically creates a link for you on the highlighted word!

Well, I didn't mean for this to turn into another advice post, but here y'all go. I learned, and hopefully some of you all did to! ^w^

#fridurwrites #ask #info

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humming-fly · 1 year ago

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every year for my birthday I do something self-indulgent and THIS year it's me finally organizing all the doodles and lore for my kirby oc Fayre that I have yet to put on tumblr into one place!

because i love you all putting the vast majority of this under a readmore but yeah if you want a collection of doodles and vaguely coherent scraps of info about my little guy please read on and if you want to ask questions about 'em go for it i love talking about these idiots

gonna also be mentioning a few other OC's here so for the record Strix belongs to @alagaesia-overlord and Stell belongs to @aseuki, because everyone knows it's more fun being insane about something if you have company~

real quick gonna just link to the past main posts on fayre for posterity lol

Fayre Details/Backstory:

So as has already been established in prior posts fayre is a very fae-aligned little critter that pretty exclusively hangs out in the woods with their 1-way mirror mask behaving for all intents of the word like some sort of weird cryptid. In terms of defining characteristics they have a set of very odd wings that constantly emit a stunning aura that causes confusion/distress when observed at close quarters, as well as a permanent 0.0 expression that they can't change (so no blinking, smiling, etc.) which is a byproduct of their creation as a mirror clone.

How all that worked out is their 'original', Prism, landed right next to a mirror portal as a newborn and more or less immediately wandered into it - my general headcanon about how the mirror doubles work is that they're made up of Every reflection someone has made up to the point they look into the amazing mirror, but since prism only just existed her first and only reflection was the 0.0 expression of a child looking through the mirror before passing through it, so fayre is locked and loaded with that expression but nothin' else. This is also why fayre's wings are way different than prism's bird-of-paradise setup, as technically prism's back was never reflected by the mirror either so it got the randomizer setting instead.

Despite being 'born' more or less at the same time the two never formally met until many years later, as prism wandered right into the mirror world and fayre wandered right out into the primary world and neither ever looked back. Differences aside, when prism did eventually track fayre down they immediately hit it off and now consider each other to be twin siblings. (Prior to meeting Prism Fayre didn't know they were a mirror clone, but largely took learning that detail in stride, as they do with most things)

In terms of early life fayre was actually found and raised by a small village of broom hatters, who came upon this child in a little crater they'd made after falling off the cloud holding up the mirror

The broom hatters assumed that fall was what had paralyzed their face, but fortunately as the broom hatters are a race of faceless creatures themselves the lack of expressions wasn't ever a problem. Not being able to move or open their mouth means fayre can't talk with it, but instead uses the general telepathic way of speaking used by most species lacking that particular facial feature. The main benefit of that skill is being able to throw their voice and also talk in hieroglyphics if desired

Fayre stayed with the broom hatters until reaching early adolescence, after which they left to go explore the natural world - though now living on their own they do still come back to say Hi every year or so during the Sweeping Seasons.

Fayre got their wings sometime while off living by themselves in the woods, and after some trial and error did figure out a way to more or less 'replace' their wings with a funky cape (the trial and error being a learning curve whereupon getting near people with their wings would cause people to get dizzy/sick, so for a while they were wandering around in a little cape they found until they could puzzle out a way to properly tuck them away) - while the cape is replacing the wings they're more or less 'in stasis', so damaging the cape doesn't damage the wings and vice versa, and is more of a strange pocket dimensional swap than anything. Thus the cape can't actually be removed from fayre, trying to rip it off them won't hurt or anything but will probably just yank them around a bit (maybe they're somehow trading their wings with an equivalent in the yarn dimension? who knows, they certainly don't)

The wings themselves are pretty odd as they look sort of like dragonfly wings but are actually made up of individual feathers of varying traits - general consensus is they are indeed very pretty, but other than gliding fayre can't actually fly that well with them. The stunning aura on them Does keep bugs and wildlife away though making them ideal for forest exploration, and fayre will wrap themselves up in them every night when going to bed as the wings work to deter any predators from going after them, and it's Comfy

~Plot Stuff Begins~

Meeting Strix:

For quite a while Prism was the only consistent point of contact Fayre had with anyone else, and even then the two only visited one another infrequently, both happy to largely keep to the homes and lives they've carved out for themselves.

The first major change to fayre's day to day life was the introduction of another puffball named Strix, who happened upon them while looking for their wayward coworker

After conversing a bit it was discovered that Strix is actually employed as a Reaper, of the paper-pushing variety, and only tends to poke their head out of purgatory when hunting down their work-shirking coworker.

Said work-shirking coworker is also the reason strix is the only person fayre has met that isn't affected by their wing's wonky aura - spending a few centuries in close quarters with someone who puts out a very similar status effect tends to build up an immunity, which fayre tries their best to take full advantage of

Fayre and Strix managed to hit it off early on, and occasionally meet up every month or so for an hour or two to get their required socializations in before wandering back off from whence they came. Strix will often share their work bereavements, or encourage fayre to actually learn some self-defense, which is largely met with playful ambivalence, though despite fayre's general disinterest in combat some minor progress was made on strix's part

(To that end farther the line a more favorable and not at all ominous deal was struck between the two so time will tell how that pans out)

During one of these chats strix also shared some of their Tragic Backstory:tm:, which fayre empathized with in the only way they know how

These friendly meetings continued with regularity for some odd years, up until fayre accidentally rode-along on one of strix's business calls~

Meeting Stell (aka The 'Among-Us' Arc):

Unfortunately for Fayre, Strix had been called to investigate what was reported to be an erroneous wish caused by a faulty comet, one without its proper safety regulations in place. Fayre tumbled on through strix's portal and into the sidelines of an ongoing fight between strix and some new armored fighter apparently affiliated with said comet.

Hoping to avoid whatever anime-ass conflict was going on over there, fayre started drifting towards the only other point in space of any note, the giant cat-like mechanical comet. Unfortunately for fayre, whoever had maintained that comet had rigged it up with a series of perimeter defenses, which fayre became intimately familiar with as they were shot down and forced to land on the comet itself to escape the bullet-hell firing at them.

Suffering some fun knicks and scrapes predominantly on their wings fayre pushed that on the back burner with their cape and started to look for an exit from this weird mechanical death trap. (Past this point Fayre has a quasi-permanent notch in their left feather).

Thus began fayre's fun-filled two-ish weeks of impromptu among us where they had a jolly time hiding in the vents and cutting wires to stall the maniac doing their level best to eject them with lethal force

Eventually contact was made with the assailant, whose name was apparently Stell, and an agreement was brokered just as Strix finally decided to stop by again to see how fixing that busted-ass comet was going.

after that misunderstanding was cleared up Fayre finally got off that shitty comet and after being dropped off in the woods by strix managed to trudge all the way to the mirror dimension to visit prism and get some bandaids (slash bullet holes patched up)

Mirror Arc & Beyond:

Some additional fun is had with the twins in the mirror dimension, namely the whole kitten kaboodle becoming corrupted for a time and fayre becoming a bit of an asshole because of it, which predominantly ended up aimed at strix who popped by to help sort all that out

post-corruption fayre found out apparently strix took the verbal abuse personally and fixed that all right up in their own way by visiting them at their workplace

tragically for fayre's happy-go-lucky attitude they've come to be attached to strix, which only became obvious once strix relayed a recent near-death experience to them and they got to experience their first ever Bummer Emotion

making that extra fun was learning said near-death experience was caused by their good friend Stell, which in turn lead to fayre's first ever Catching Hands Emotion

fayre's emotional roller coaster topped out after more or less jumping stell in a convenience store and trying to forcibly shove their own negative emotions down his throat after he brushed off the encounter he'd had with strix (partially due to running a high fever but that sure wasn't fayre's problem) - since then they've leveled back out and are back to being the most emotionally well-balanced of the three, which is a low bar to clear but hey first place is still first place~

#why yes this Is a birthday gift to myself #internet backups are important and also fun to find down the line hahaha #anyways hope you all enjoy my Special Little Guy #also tw for flashing image way at the bottom of this massive post #long post #like for real it's a Long post i used the full 30 images #fayre #kirby oc #ahh #my art #doodles

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st4riel-the-w1tchling · 5 months ago

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My Intro Post!!

Hello and welcome to my blog!! My name’s Ari, but you can call me whatever idc. I’m a girl, a minor, an Aquarius if that matters to you and I have 2 younger brothers.

I lived in Australia for lots of my childhood however moved to Spain last year. I’ve done research and while different people seem to have different definitions of the term, I identify as Hispanic as I’m quite immersed in the Spanish culture, language, etc, never plan on leaving and have been raised like a Spanish kid (my parents have wanted to live here since they were kids so they’ve been preparing us for life here since we were newborn) even though I’m genetically Australian. If you believe I don’t fit the term idc that’s your opinion but this is how I identify.

I’ve been practicing witchcraft since late 2021 and believed in the Greek gods since I was a kid (because of PJO lol). I call myself a Greek pagan witch with animist and omnist beliefs, I believe the terms Hellenism and polytheism may apply but idk enough about them to use them to describe myself.

I started working with Aphrodite 4 days into my practice cuz I’m a bit silly however I’ve gotten more consistent and comfortable with my worship over time. Now working with her is just a part of my daily life, I love all her different epithets (I think is the word) she’s just so cool. I want to start working with King Hades and Queen Persephone in the future.

I’m trying to get better at note taking cuz I often forget. This blog is for saving notes #info, #paganism, #animism and #witchcraft stuff, I’ll post stuff related to #greek mythology under its own tag if not practitioner based, all deity/entity stuff is under its own tag (eg. #aphrodite, #hermes, #odysseus, #telemachus, etc).I also post related fandom stuff here like; #hades game, #pjo, #epic the musical, etc and stuff I’m more critical of like; #anti Madeline miller, #anti lore olympus under their own tags. My posts and asks are under #stariel posts and #stariel asks, all reblogs and queued are #stariel reblogs and #q, if I add a bit of my own input to a post it goes under #stariel convos, if I’m interacting with the community/mutuals it goes under #stariel community and #fave contains well all my fav posts.

I love spirit work and when I’m more experienced I plan on working with ghosts and animal spirits though currently I’m content just talking to my plants, house, divination tools and Aphrodite. I also want to start Ancestor Work soon. I’m a big fan of baneful protection magic and glamour/love magic. I’m pretty proud of my clair senses, intuition and divination abilities, I’ve always been an empath (my definition is; good at sensing energy and emotions) so I’ve put lots of effort into improving these skills which I’m quite happy with the strength of now.

You may also see special interest junk here (I’m neurodivergent) however I’ll try keep it at a minimum and it’ll only be posted if it is related to the topics of this blog (eg. Marvel comics [that and witchy stuff are my 2 big things] and also other interests like #Hermitcraft).

I’m a nickname person, I have some of the best nicknames ever (Stariel was one and now it’s my user for everything) so now I give everyone/thing nicknames lol. Just a warning, if we become friends I’m giving you 10,000 nicknames. I’m also a yapper as you can see below, irl I’ve learned to contain and summarise my paragraphs but on tumblr I let myself go wild and add as many irrelevant details/thoughts I have so I apologise in advance for the essays.

I personally believe hugely in free speech so there’s no DNI for this blog. Everyone is welcome as long as civil discussion is maintained no blatant straw manning/mud slinging if you want to debate me or someone else here on a topic make sure to be respectful about it, thanks.

And that’s about all I have to say right now, I seriously should make intros for my other blogs. Enjoy your stay!!

#Is it odd I’m making my first intro post here instead of my main? probs but idc #stariel posts #intro post #witchcraft #aphrodite devotee #greek mythology #paganism #epic the musical #the odyssey #animism #Aphrodite #PJO #Ik irrelevant tagging is bad however I wanted to tag the topics of my blog

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paperhats-and-evil-schemes · 1 year ago

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Lovestarved (Rewrite)

Flug couldn’t believe it. Defying all of his expectations, Black Hat actually prevented him from hurting his friends. Not only that, but kept his secret from being exposed. He had been so certain that the eldritch wanted [...], but now, with every manipulative and cruel assumption Flug had made being tossed out the window, he had no idea what to think anymore. When he next spoke, his voice was but a meek stutter. “Th-Thank you, sir...” “’Thank you’?” Black Hat repeated, a ghostly twitch of annoyance betraying his smile for just a moment. “What have I told you, Flug? Your… gratitude…” That last word was uttered with notable disgust, “… is gravely misplaced. I only—“ He was stunned into silence when Flug unexpectedly clutched his hand. “You stopped me from hurting them.” The scientist spoke more firmly in spite of how his own hands trembled. Flug dared not make eye contact, instead staring directly at the floor. “Thank you.” He had almost expected to get lashed out at or shouted at for grabbing Black Hat so suddenly, and when he realized his mistake, he immediately let go… but Black Hat did neither of those things. He just stared, expression completely blank to the point of almost being comical, at where Flug had touched him. That doesn’t happen. People don’t touch him. He touches people. On his terms. After the initial confusion wore off, his cold and calculative eyes pierced right through Flug. “… Well.” He finally spoke, flat-toned, “You can thank me by getting rid of those pests outside.”

Okay look I know the White Hat fic’s been a long time coming and I’m definitely still working on it, but oh my god the complete and utter abomination that was the original Lovestarved fic was driving me completely insane, I HAD to give it a revamp for my own peace of mind lmfao, my GOD, IT WAS SO BAD YOU GUYS IDC WHAT YOU SAY I'M SORRY SZTEFA BUT YOU'RE W R O N G LMAO

So anyway, have the not-perfect-but-still-very-much-improved fanfic of a Monster!Flug x BH slowburn in which these idiots keep idioting around each other 24/7 until things happen lol (Btw one of my mutuals recently got instabanned for merely mentioning a certain phrase, so since I’m not sure how tumblr is deciding to auto-flag posts and I don’t wanna go through the headache of having to get my account reactivated again, this post is only the first half of the fic (the safe portion lol) and then there’ll be a link to the AO3 version at the bottom of this post for when things start to get on the risqué side.)

And of course, this fic series is based on this wonderful fic right here!

Previous works in chronological order: Hired, Don’t Try to Run, Lovestarved, Trial & Trust, Deeper Than Skin, A Small Solace, In Sickness and in Health, Benefit of the Doubt, Just Another Word I Never Learned to Pronounce, Merry (Late) Christmas, Compromise

Flug had never intended for this to happen.

Never in a million years had he planned on revealing this part of him to anybody , let alone Black Hat himself. Sadly, it’s not easy to sweep the unfortunate incident of devouring a test subject right in front of him under the rug. Then again, given his boss’s nature of being able to slip into any room unnoticed, perhaps Flug should’ve prepared for such an inevitable possibility.

Oh well. Too little, too late, as some might say. At least Black Hat hadn’t reacted as negatively as Flug thought he might. On the contrary, in fact, Black Hat seemed to find Flug’s otherworldly nature quite amusing. Yet another reaction that his scientist perhaps should’ve expected to some extent.

What he never could’ve expected was the change in attitude, however.

Yes, ever since that day, Black Hat had been treating him differently. It was subtle enough that any bystander likely wouldn’t notice a difference in their relationship. But Flug definitely took notice, especially in how his superior spoke to him.

He was still his usual brash, hostile self, but every once in a while, sprinkled in between whatever myriad of scathing remarks and scoldings Flug would face on any given day (and even those had lessened significantly), Black Hat would sometimes praise him. The first time Flug heard the words “Good work” out of his boss’s mouth, he thought he’d been hallucinating, as that explanation seemed far more likely.

Furthermore, Black Hat continued to surprise Flug by not broadcasting his secret to the rest of the household. He’d been certain that his boss would’ve gotten a kick out of airing his dirty laundry for everyone to see, if only for the sole reason that Flug gravely didn’t want that. Yet, Black Hat held back. Didn’t speak a word about it to 5.0.5. or Demencia. Not that Flug would risk getting too comfortable in that regard, of course. Whatever Black Hat’s motivations may have been, it definitely wasn’t coming out of a place of respect for Flug’s privacy. Knowing his boss, he was probably just waiting for either of their housemates to walk in on him devouring someone so he could indulge in whatever chaos might unfold. Or perhaps there was some other reason that Flug hadn’t considered. He certainly knew better than to try and guess what Black Hat was thinking, regardless.

Not all of the changes in Black Hat’s behavior were so positive, though. For one thing, his unnerving fascination with Flug’s souleater half has led to some rather uncomfortable arrangements. On the one hand, Black Hat providing him with prey saves Flug the trouble of having to sneak around anymore to feed himself, but on the other, his boss had a peculiarly keen interest in watching him eat. That was already bad enough, having to put what Flug had tried so hard to keep hidden all his life on full display like that, but it was made even worse by how handsy Black Hat would sometimes get afterwards.

He had a particular fascination with Flug’s teeth. Whether or not that was out of some twisted sense of humor or out of a genuine curiosity of Flug’s species, the doctor couldn’t tell. All he knew is that it was uncomfortable. Every time those hands crinkled up the edges of that paper bag to expose his bloodied mouth, anxiety spiked within him at the mere thought of his mask being pulled off completely. Luckily for Flug, Black Hat never went that far, for the time being.

“Why do you always do that…?” He had asked once, during one upon too many fang inspections to count.

There was a click of the tongue, Black Hat tilting Flug’s chin whichever way he wanted, as he gave his unconventional answer. “The soul residue intrigues me. Besides, it's the only part of your face I’ve seen thus far. I like to admire it at its bloodiest.” Then he’d flash one of his many shit-eating grins. “Given how long you’ve hidden this from me, I certainly have the right to catch up on what I’ve been missing.”

What could he possibly have been “missing”? He knew Black Hat to enjoy displays of violence the most when they had some heart in them. Flug’s only ever been timid and reluctant in the way that he feeds, unable to understand what entertainment value Black Hat could possibly be getting out of such mediocre murders.

On one particular day, however, the situation differed.

Their domain had fallen under siege by a particularly persistent team of heroes… It would’ve been an all-out attack if Dr. Flug hadn’t activated an emergency forcefield just in time. But for now, all they could do was wait these heroes out until they came up with a proper plan of retaliation. Their anti-hero merchandise was the best there was, of course, but with the sheer amount of opponents waiting outside, the villains were put in a particularly tricky situation.

Black Hat could easily dispose of the problem, Flug knew for a fact. These heroes were mere ants to somebody with his unimaginable power. But, in typical Black Hat fashion, he chose to instead put this job on Flug and Demencia.

While Flug could understand to some extent that such matters were too trivial and boring for his boss to face head-on, he had hoped the demon would’ve made an exception in this case. This situation had cut Flug, Demencia, and 5.0.5. off from the outside world until they could find a way around those heroes, which wouldn’t be a problem if not for the fact that it left Flug without sustenance to keep his monstrous half in check.

Unfortunately for him, Black Hat found more interest in watching how his employees would tackle the problem instead. Because, for him, the slightly-more-interesting route would always be preferred over the easy way out. It’s not like the health of his underlings has ever held priority over his own amusement, so Flug had no right to be surprised. He’d just have to persevere, and he wouldn’t dare complain about his hunger to Black Hat himself. Knowing him, he’d expect Flug to earn his food under these circumstances. The way Black Hat was constantly hanging around the laboratory as he worked further cemented that idea into his mind.

Instead, he threw himself into his work as if that were an adequate distraction. He did everything he could to keep his mind busy, to keep himself distracted from anything that may lead to one of his episodes, but it was so damn hard when these hunger swings can be so unpredictable. One minute, he would be completely fine, but the next…

“Whatcha workin’ on, doc?”

Hunger making him more irritable than usual, the mere sound of Demencia’s voice had been enough to grate on his nerves these past weeks of siege. It was bad enough that his cravings were already slowing him down far too much, he didn’t need Dem’s constant pestering on top of his current inability to focus.

Shaking those concerns out of his head, he was none too kind when he answered her. “Oh, I don’t know, Demencia, maybe a solution to our little problem out there?”

Unfazed by the mockery dripping from his voice, her desire for mischief was left perfectly intact. “Oooo, is it cool? Will it blow ‘em up? Liquidize their insides? Lemme see it!”

She jumped for the flask, and Flug had barely enough reaction time within him to dodge her. “ Stop that! Do you want to get a cloud of knockout gas to the face!?” Flug barked, scrambling to keep his work from falling out of his hands. Once stabilized, he shot her a nasty glare. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpanned in response. Dramatically flopping into a nearby chair, Demencia kept up her annoying lamenting. “We’ve been stuck with those dumb heroes outside for like a week, I’m boooored.”

“Well good for you, but since I’m the only one around here that seems willing to fix this damn mess, I need to focus.” Flug snapped at her, voice raising alongside his frustration, “What I don’t need is some brain-dead halfwit breathing stupid questions down my neck the whole time!”

Demencia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at how intensely he came off. Sure, she could get on his nerves with relative ease, but he usually took it with more grace than that, even at times when he’d sic Hatbots on her. Even Black Hat glanced up from his newspaper upon hearing such unusual hostility growing in Flug, though he reserved comment.

“Ouch,” Demencia remarked, although not especially offended. “Well, sorry Mr. Grumpypants, didn’t realize you were in such a mood today.” She chided him. “You skip your coffee this morning or what?”

Narrowed eyes shot one last dirty look at her before Flug tried to shift his focus back to his concoction at the lab table. Key word being tried , because before he knew it, he was doubling over from pain when his cravings hit him full-force. He was barely able to catch himself against the table, almost knocking over the work he’d previously scolded Demencia for endangering.

Serving up a confused stare, Demencia frowned at him. “Uhh, Flug?”

The ruckus also woke 5.0.5. who’d been sleeping nearby, a worried grunt coming from him as he wandered over to see what was going on.

What Flug had feared all along was now fast approaching. This sort of thing was exactly what Black Hat wanted, wasn’t it? For him to expose himself to the others in as violent a manner as possible? And if so, then where the fuck was he? Flug could’ve sworn he was in the room a second ago, and hell, maybe he was too disoriented to know for sure, but he couldn’t see the demon anywhere.

All he could lock his starving gaze onto was Demencia and 5.0.5., the clueless pair coming foolishly closer to check on him. They’d make easy targets. They were practically offering themselves up on a silver platter. How could Flug possibly refuse the instincts that were screaming at him to eat?

“Okay, Flug, this is weird, even for you.”

For the briefest of moments, he saw his mother, so stupidly drawing nearer in his state of delirium. She should have known better. She made herself too easy of an antidote to his suffering. The exact same mistake that Demencia was making now.

He wished he could tell her to get away. He wanted desperately to warn her of what danger she was in. But he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t stop himself from inching his starving body nearer, itching to dig his teeth into something –

“Demencia, step aside.” Black Hat’s familiar voice ordered from the doorway, yielding immediate compliance from her. With adept swiftness, he strode over to the unhinged doctor and proceeded to drag him away from his coworkers before any damage could be done, exiting the laboratory with Flug in tow, and leaving Demencia and 5.0.5. to their own confusion.

Black Hat dragged him through hallways and corridors, paying no mind to his scientist’s resistance. Flug’s thrashing wasn’t particularly troublesome for Black Hat, although he felt mild surprise to experience a jolt of pain inflicted by Flug’s fangs when they tried to find nourishment in the tendrils that restrained him. Judging from the retching and gagging that followed, Black Hat’s soulless form wasn’t exactly fine dining to him.

They entered a darkened storage room, the only light source coming from a flickering bulb above that fought to stay lit. Within, there laid a hero, injured and bound in place by whatever impromptu restraints Black Hat could find in the moment.

“Eat.” Black Hat ordered as he shoved Flug towards the helpless fool.

As if Flug needed any convincing.

The second he was released from Black Hat’s grip, he lunged for the hero, tearing into him with such ruthless ferocity, ripping flesh out in bloody chunks that were strewn across the room with great fervor. The crackling and snapping of bones that’d dared get in the way of Flug’s relentless fangs was like music to Black Hat’s ears. The only way this could’ve been better was if the hero had remained alive long enough to scream.

Out of breath by the time Flug was through with him, it took almost a full minute for him to regain his composure.

“My my, what a savage display.” Black Hat purred in amusement, drawing nearer to admire the carnage. “You’ve been holding out on me, doctor.”

“W-Wha… Wait, th-this is a hero f-from outs-side, isn’t it…?” Flug queried as he came back to his senses, casting a hesitant glance his boss’s way.

“They make for easy pickings. You looked like you needed something rather immediate.” Black Hat replied, wiping bloodied claws off on his clothes. With a disapproving quirk of the brow, he added, “You could have said something sooner , by the way. It’s not like I knew where your breaking point was.”

Flug couldn’t believe it. Defying all of his expectations, Black Hat actually prevented him from hurting his friends. Not only that, but kept his secret from being exposed. He had been so certain that the eldritch wanted the drama and chaos that would’ve come with him attacking 5.0.5. or Demencia, but now, with every manipulative and cruel assumption Flug had made being tossed out the window, he had no idea what to think anymore. When he next spoke, his voice was but a meek stutter. “Th-Thank you, sir...”

“’ Thank you ’?” Black Hat repeated, a ghostly twitch of annoyance betraying his smile for just a moment. “We have been over this, doctor. Your… gratitude …” That last word was uttered with notable disgust, “… is gravely misplaced. I only—“

He was stunned into silence when Flug unexpectedly clutched his hand. “You stopped me from hurting them.” The scientist spoke more firmly in spite of how his own hands trembled against Black’s. Flug dared not make eye contact, instead staring directly at the floor. “ Thank you. ”

He had almost expected to get lashed out at or shouted at for grabbing Black Hat so suddenly, and when he realized his mistake, he immediately let go… but Black Hat did neither of those things. He just stared, expression completely blank to the point of almost being comical, at where Flug had touched him. That doesn’t happen. People don’t touch him. He touches people. On his terms.

After the initial confusion wore off, his cold and calculative eyes pierced right through Flug. “… Well.” He finally spoke, his voice flat and rigid, “You can thank me by getting rid of those pests outside.”

With that, the demon took his leave. Flug watched him go, blinking slowly as he tried to process what just happened…

… No. He can think about this later. For now, he had an order to carry out.

After cleaning himself up and changing out of his bloodsoaked clothes, Flug returned to the lab with newfound energy and determination. He threw himself at his experiment with ultimate focus, not allowing Demencia or even Black Hat’s presence distract him, despite how intently the latter was watching him.

Flug completed the substance within the hour, and it did not disappoint. Everything went according to plan. Firing the gas bomb at their intruders did the trick, knocking them out just long enough for Demencia to dispose of them without a single issue.

When all was said and done, Black Hat approached the doctor from behind as he disarmed the forcefield, causing him to jump in surprise when the demon patted his shoulder. “Well done, doctor.” He said simply before walking off.

All Flug could do was stare as he left, completely befuddled.

He had always craved Black Hat’s praise, but now that he’d been getting it, it felt beyond impossible to get used to.

The strange behavior, the way he kept lingering about the lab for no discernable reason other than to watch him, how he’d been keeping Flug’s diet in check, it was all just so… bizarre. Flug racked his brain day in and day out trying to solve this mystery, but nothing ever felt like it made sense. It couldn’t be coming from a place of respect, as he knew Black Hat was incapable of respecting him. He doubted it was coming from a place of any sort of concern, as nothing about their routine had actually changed. If anything, Flug was more healthy than usual these days due to Black Hat’s assistance in keeping him properly fed.

Perhaps it was something more akin to keeping a pet. Of course, that must be it. Black Hat likely had him lumped in the same category as Lil Jack these days, just a pet to feed and maintain.

While that dehumanizing assumption made the most sense so far, Flug still couldn’t be sure…

One day, curiosity finally got the better of him. He knew he should know better than to question Black Hat, but he just couldn’t help himself this time.

It was on another day that, as was becoming usual, Black Hat had joined him in the laboratory, overseeing his work from a distance. Flug couldn’t actually be sure how much Black Hat was actually paying attention to the invention he was building, but he worked as diligently as he could under his boss’s silent supervision all the same.

A handray of sorts laid in pieces on the table while the doctor fiddled a screwdriver inside the mechanism. Black Hat had taken to leaning against the wall by the door, not a word spoken by him this whole time.

Flug nervously glanced back at him for a moment, quickly averting his eyes back to the device when he was caught staring. Finally, he forced himself to say it. “… Y-You’ve been… a-acting strangely since you first saw me feed, sir…”

“Strangely?” Black Hat’s cold voice repeated, examining his claws without a care in the world. “What are you implying?”

That ice, that frosty and bitter manner in which his boss spoke, had always rattled Flug’s nerves. It was almost enough to discourage him entirely from completing his train of thought, but he knew that would likely annoy Black Hat even more. He put his screwdriver down, turning to face the demon. “W-w-well, it’s, u-um… er…”

“Out with it, doctor.” Black Hat snapped impatiently. He cast the other man a challenging stare, as though daring him to say something he’ll regret.

At this, Flug hesitated. A lump had started forming in his throat, preventing him from speaking. Black Hat’s glare was definitely making the doctor have second thoughts about saying anything at all. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak through his discomfort. “Y-You’ve been treating me differently.”

Black Hat’s visible eye slowly narrowed, but he decided to amuse his doctor. “Oh really? How so?” He said in a sort of sarcastic, dry tone, taking a step forward.

No backing down now. Straightening his back, Flug tried very hard not to flinch away at his boss’s advances. “Well…” He began, fiddling with his hands, “You’ve been, um… H-How do I put this… nicer …?”

That was a big mistake the moment he said it, Flug’s eyes going wide once he realized his mistake far too late. Rage flashed across Black Hat’s face, the demon’s familiar growl ringing through Flug’s ears as he came closer. Flinching back and shielding his face with an arm, Flug almost fell over the table behind him as he tried to back away. “W-W-Wait, I didn’t m-mean it like tha–!” He cut himself off with a fearful yelp as Black Hat yanked him forward by the neck of his shirt, his threatening form towering over the doctor.

“How did you mean it , then?” Black Hat snarled, voice dripping with a biting venom.

“Y-You’ve been acting like you think I have more worth now!” Flug squeaked, hiding his face behind his arms with eyes squeezed shut, a clear exasperation lingering among the fear in his words. “Like because I’m half monster, that changes things!”

Expecting to get pummeled in the next few seconds, it was to Flug’s great surprise that Black Hat let him go. Risking a timid peek at his boss, his jaw almost dropped. Why was he laughing all of a sudden?

“Of course it changes things!” Blackhat grinned, as though it were ridiculous for Flug to suggest otherwise. For some reason, that prickled at Flug’s nerves. “Now that I’ve seen what you are– ”

“What I am doesn’t change anything! I’m still the same Flug I’ve always been!”

In a moment of surprise, Black Hat’s grin faltered. He’d never heard Flug take such a tone with him before, nor had he seen that particular look of frustration, dressed with hints of defiance, within Flug’s eyes.

“Have you been basing my value on species this whole time?” The scientist went on, irritation building, “What, I’m suddenly worth more to you just because I’m less human? Is that why you haven’t been kicking me around as much? Are you seriously that shallow?” With a scoff, Flug looked away, brows furrowed in anger. “If my being a human really disgusted you that much, I don’t get why you haven’t just replaced me with someone more your style.”

There was a tense moment of silence between them, although the tension was likely only on Flug’s side. Eventually, Black Hat spoke again.

“I believe that’s the first time you’ve dared to raise your voice at me, doctor.”

… Wait…

Shit.

“I’m sorry…!” He squeaked in fear, cringing away from Black Hat in anticipation of being struck. Realization of how badly he screwed up hit him like a semi truck, and he scrambled over his words trying to do damage control in whatever way he could. “I-I don’t know w-what c-came over me! I-I’m v- very sorry, sir…!”

No violence came his way, however. Instead, Black Hat eyed him with what Flug could only describe as intrigue. His head tilted a smidge to the side, not unlike that of a curious animal. When he next spoke, it was with a kind of guileless tone completely foreign to Flug’s ears. “I have always valued you, Flug.”

A disbelieving snort escaped Flug before he had the chance to stop it, slapping a hand over his mouth the second such a disrespectful noise had come out. How or why Black Hat hadn’t lashed out at him yet, Flug had no idea.

“You think I would have hired some annoying, sniveling little human if you weren’t of significant value to me? I know you’re smarter than that, doctor.” He drew closer, much to Flug’s discomfort. “In spite of what a pitiful sight you made, it was your intelligence that’d far made up for that. Your intelligence, your dedication, your perseverance, I have seen it all. From the day I met you, I knew your talents were exceptional.”

Baffled by such claims, Flug could do nothing more than stare in disbelief as his boss spoke.

“You impressed me that day, Dr. Flug. I can count on one hand the number of humans that’ve accomplished such a feat.” He went on, circling Flug to admire the work he had laid out on the table. “Humans are one of the most irritating and pathetic species I’ve ever come across in all my years. To have ended up relying on one for the sake of my business has been no less than a major frustration to me. Without you, who the hell do you think would be making all of our products?”

“I-I-” Flug started to speak, but was quickly silenced by the raise of Black Hat’s hand. Clearly, he had more to say.

“In a way, you’re not wrong. It does please me knowing that you’re not entirely human. You are something better. But, you’ve always been better than other humans in my eyes.” When he next turned to face Flug, it was with a narrow-eyed stare on his face. “So, don’t you dare suggest that I haven’t valued you until now. If that were true, I’d have left you dead in that alley all those years ago.”

At that moment, Flug had been rendered speechless. This was the first time Black Hat’s ever verbalized any sort of appreciation for Flug’s work, especially in such a direct manner. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing, tempted to reach out and poke the eldritch to make sure it was actually him and not some sort of caffeine hallucination.

Instead, he averted his eyes. As comforting as that was to hear, it didn’t change the main problem.

“You don’t treat your valuables very well, then.” Flug’s hesitant voice spoke up.

With a boisterous laugh, Blackhat twirled his cane idly. “So what? That’s of no consequence to me.”

“You seem to forget that I’m breakable, sir. It is a consequence if I decide to leave.” If he really is as valuable as Black Hat says... Looking away, he muttered under his breath, “It’s definitely something I’ve considered.”

That came as no surprise to Black Hat. He’s seen the collection of house and apartment ads the doctor’s compiled and occasionally glanced through when his boss’s temper was especially testy. But surely he’d never actually go through with leaving. Not after all the work he put in to get here. It would be absurd.

Not paying the comment much mind, Black Hat decided he was done with this conversation and headed for the door. “Get that ray done. We start filming in two hours.”

Such dismissive behavior was what Flug was used to letting roll off his back. But, this time, it felt like it didn’t matter at all compared to the other things his boss had said.

It was beyond reassuring to know that Black Hat found him important for what really mattered. There had been many a day where Flug had wondered if all of his efforts were actually counting for anything, in that regard.

Now, he won’t have to wonder.

Something new to wonder about, however, was why this conversation had left him feeling so flustered …

Their uncharacteristically genuine conversation didn’t mean everything was sunshine and daisies, of course. After all, This is the house of evil. Can’t expect much else. What Flug was used to was being yelled at. Though there was one recent incident in particular that had been… strange.

As usual, Black Hat was eager to advertise anti-hero merchandise to their viewers. The demon rarely ever began recording early without first informing Flug, but today was, unfortunately, one of those days. He already had Cam-bot recording before Flug was even in the room. It’s not like he needed Flug there, anyways, so he just went ahead and started without him. The product seemed simple enough, some kind of fireball launcher of sorts.

Black Hat was well into the presentation by the time Flug had gotten there. The doctor had appeared somewhat rushed, and was carrying with him a toolbox.

His eyes widened with terror when he entered the room to see his boss already wielding the product.

“… and with just the click of a button, your local hero will be enveloped in a Hellish blaze!” Black Hat took aim at a target across the room.

“Sir, no!” Flug shouted, darting towards him, “There’s a chemical imbalance that still needs to be–!”

Too late.

There was a flash, then a blast of intense heat as the weapon backfired. Cam-bot went toppling over sideways, making a series of distressed beeping noises, and Black Hat let out a startled snarl as his arm was blown clean off. That wasn’t too much of a concern, however, as a stream of inky black energy quickly formed a new one.

He wheeled around, eyes blazing with rage as he faced the now-shivering Flug. “You IDIOT!!!” He roared, storming over to the scientist and roughly gripping his arm. “Is your job to have our products ready in time or IS IT NOT!?”

“I-I-I’m sorry….!” Flug yelped, cowering. “I-I thought I h-had more time…! I just needed to make one minor adjustmen–” He cut himself off with a pained outcry as Black Hat’s grip tightened, near threatening to break his arm.

“I don’t want to hear EXCUSES, YOU BLOODY– You…” Black Hat trailed off, a whisper of that recent conversation with the doctor echoing in his head.

You don’t treat your valuables very well.

You seem to forget that I’m breakable.

Staring over the terrified doctor now, the way he immediately expected the worst, something felt… off. Black Hat was the one that decided to start early and without Flug’s knowledge… but that still shouldn’t excuse not having it ready before the deadline, so–!

“Sir…?” Flug’s voice, tiny and horrified as it may have been, managed to shake Black Hat out of his thoughts. Fearful eyes gazed up at him with a hint of confusion on top of the pain. Very slowly, Black Hat loosened his grip, then let go altogether and took a step back.

Flug stepped back as well at the first chance he got, gripping his hurt arm close to himself. He gave a puzzled frown. “S-Sir…. are you…. alright….?”

… How could he be asking that? It seemed so… backwards.

… It doesn’t matter.

“Get this mess cleaned up…” Black Hat finally said, his voice unusually low, “… and fix that infernal Cam-bot…”

Then, he was gone before Flug could even reply.

Watching the door close behind his boss, Flug winced as he rubbed his arm. Sighing, he picked up the dropped toolbox and turned to Cam-bot. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then…”

A flood of blood trickled down the now-lifeless body and onto the floor, Flug’s shaking arm wiping away what dribbled from his chin. With a chunk of neck completely missing from the corpse on the operation table in front of him, it was leaving quite the mess. The doctor tentatively reached up to pull his paper bag back down and cover his mouth, but Black Hat’s cane pulled his arm away before he could. Flug squirmed slightly beneath his boss’s touch as he lifted his chin , discomfort setting in him, but Black Hat paid that no mind.

A gloved thumb lightly grazing across the edge of Flug’s fangs, Black Hat’s expression was oddly monotone today. “… So, tell me.” He said suddenly. “If I’m so unbearable to live with, why do you stick around?”

“S-Sir….?” Flug responded, caught off guard by the question.

“You’re not being forced to stay here.” The eldritch went on. “You said yourself that you’ve considered leaving. Many other villains would be glad to take you. So why do you stay?”

Flug was quiet for a long moment, considering what he should say. Truly, there was only one right answer. “… B-Because the other villains aren’t you.”

At that, Black Hat paused, a twitch of surprise on his features for a second. Then, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Elaborate.”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Flug started to fiddle with the sleeves of his labcoat. “W-W-Well, um… I-I mean, you’re… successful, c-confident, accomplished…” Oh gosh, why did he have to be listing off things he admires about his boss while they were in this position? Hardly any distance between them, and Black Hat leaned in closer with every word! Swallowing again, he tried not to get too flustered as he continued, “I-It’s just… well, you’re Black Hat. You’re one of a k-kind, the best there is. I don’t– I-I refuse to settle for less than the best.” Sheepishly, he looked to the ground, voice quieting. “You’re everything I’m not.”

Silent for quite some time, Black Hat found he was only able to give Flug a dumbfounded stare. The demon’s never had a tendency for modesty, for Flug to be so upfront about both his admirations and insecurities felt strange as can be. It was a combination that Flug likely never would’ve spoken aloud if left unprompted. Then, a smile began to form on Black Hat’s face. “Well, aren’t you the little ego-booster.” He purred, chuckling. “Although…” Stepping back and rubbing his chin in thought, Black Hat tilted his head and looked Flug up and down. “For one thing, if it’s something like confidence you’re wanting improvements on, you really shouldn’t spend your time hiding underneath that paper bag.”

Flinching back, Flug subconsciously ran his fingers across the edge of the bag. “N-N-No. I-I need it.”

“… Tsk. Fine, then. But still, I am curious…” Taking a step forward again, Black Hat brushed at the paper bag with his fingers. Flug jolted back before he could get a proper grip, almost tumbling over the body table in the process. Black Hat simply reached out with his cane, hooked it around Flug’s neck, and yanked him forward. With the other hand, he reached for the bag again.

“No!” In a panic, the trembling scientist grabbed his arm with both hands in an attempt to stop him, eyes squeezed shut.

Surprisingly, Black Hat did stop.

Flug hesitantly opened one eye to evaluate the situation. Black Hat was staring at where Flug had gripped him, same dumbfounded expression on his face as from the last time Flug touched him.

Slowly letting go, hoping that he wouldn’t try to remove the bag again, Flug frowned. “… U-Um… sir… I-If you don’t mind my asking…. W-Why is it you look so… bewildered … when I do that…?”

“Hmph,” Black Hat pulled his arm back after being let go, absentmindedly rubbing the spot he had been grabbed. He tried to cover up the bewilderment with a sly smile. “Maybe because the only time people ever dare to touch me is when we’re fighting or having sex. Why else?”

…. Flug chose to ignore that second part. His frown deepened, a touch of his own bewilderment setting in. “… So you’ve… never been, like… just… casually or platonically touched…?”

Black Hat took a moment to think about it, looking off to the side. He couldn’t recall any instances of such a thing, aside from maybe shaking hands with clients, if that were to count? But those were more like business obligations rather than anything casual or platonic. “Hmm… No, never.” He eventually concluded. His eyes narrowed just slightly when they pulled back towards Flug. “Well, unless we count you.”

Normally Flug might’ve winced away in response to the slow return of hostility in Black Hat, but he was just… too flabbergasted. The concept of going through life without that ever happening seemed so farfetched for some reason, but he supposed if you’re a guy like Black Hat, maybe it’s plausible…..?

After a long moment’s thought, he hesitantly reached out a hand, pausing near Black Hat’s right shoulder as he examined his boss’s face for permission.

Black Hat’s eyes further narrowed with skepticism at the gesture, but he made no protest. So, Flug continued. His skeptical gaze followed Flug’s hand all the way until it had made contact with his shoulder.

It was strange, how all the malice slowly drained from his boss’s face upon contact. The look in his eyes was no longer one of hostility, but rather, curiosity. Perhaps a touch of confusion, but mostly a genuine sort of curiosity that was, in a way, almost innocent-looking. It was a rather strange expression on him, Flug finding himself unable to look away until Black Hat’s questioning pupils darted to Flug’s own face, wondering why he had gone so still.

Quickly averting his eyes, Flug went back to what he was doing. Very slowly, he ran his hand down the demon’s arm, as if he were simply smoothing out the fabric of his sleeve. Gentle, yet so impactful. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could’ve sworn he felt the slightest shiver from his boss as he had done so. Another sneaking glance to Black Hat’s face confirmed that he was just as confused as Flug was about the whole thing.

Slowly still, Flug raised his other hand to meet Black Hat’s chest, just letting it rest there for a while. Then, as if snapped out of a trance, Flug realized all at once how weird this must be getting and jolted backwards, the sudden movement even startling Black Hat a tiny bit.

“I-I… um… s-sorry, sir…” There Flug was, getting all flustered again. Why the hell did these strange interactions with his boss keep stirring up such confusing butterflies in the pit of his stomach?

Black Hat raised an eyebrow slightly, but other than that, his expression remained vaguely passive. He ran his own fingers along where Flug had touched him, quiet for some time. Then, his familiar smile crept back along his face as he looked back towards the doctor. “Seems only fair that I’d get to look beneath that bag of yours now, doesn’t it?”

Crap. Flug was hoping he’d forgotten about that. His gaze fell to the floor, accepting defeat with a very hesitant nod. “I-I-I s-sup-ppose so, s-sir…” He stammered, anxiety quickly on the rise.

A victorious purr rumbled in Black Hat’s throat, and he closed the space between himself and his scientist. Hands once again meeting the bottom of Flug’s paper bag, he took unusual care in how he lifted both the bag and goggles off of his face. As soon as those harsh white lights from the room’s fluorescent bulbs hit Flug’s eyes, a sharp yelp left his throat, and he threw his face in his hands to hide.

“Seriously, Flug?” Black Hat deadpanned, unimpressed.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry. It’s t-too b-bright.” He stuttered, unable to stop trembling.

There was a moment of silence before Flug heard his boss’s voice again. “Open your eyes, doctor.”

Already feeling dizzy and anxious without the comfort of his bag, the thought of being made to endure such harsh lights on top of that was too overwhelming to handle. But the thought of angering Black Hat frightened him even more. So, he fought back every instinct that screamed at him to protect his eyes, stifled whatever stressful noises tried to escape him, and lowered his hands.

To Flug’s surprise, rather than the headache-inducing brightness he was expecting, he was greeted with a well-dimmed room, black smoke swirling above them to significantly dull the lights. No doubt compliments of Black Hat.

View of his scientist no longer obstructed, the wide-grinning demon took hold of Flug’s chin, lifting his head to get a better look. He could feel the halfling swallow nervously, but was too focused on taking in his appearance to notice or comment. Honestly, Flug looked like any normal human being if you looked past the eyes and teeth.

But Black Hat didn’t. He was especially focused on those eyes, this being the first time he’s ever actually seen them goggle-free.

Flug’s eyes were without a doubt attention-grabbing. Where a human’s eyes would normally be white, Flug’s were an abyss of pitch-black, glowing white pupils being the only contrast to exist within.

“Captivating…” Black Hat commented under his breath. While the comment was not specifically addressed for Flug, he certainly reacted to it, feeling an intense heat rise to his cheeks. His boss definitely took notice of that, smirk widening in response.

Embarrassed and feeling like he was going to pass out, Flug quickly grasped for his bag and pulled away from Black Hat, struggling to pull it over his head again through short and shaky breaths.

Evidently, having the bag and goggles was a comfort thing as well as an eye protection thing.

Satisfied, Black Hat gave a firm nod and turned for the door, smoke dissipating with a snap of his fingers. “Clean up your mess and get back to work.” He ordered as he left.

Flug had to take a moment to regain himself, doing everything he could to calm his nerves. With the combination of deep breaths and counting numbers in his head to refocus, the doctor slowly but surely found his composure again.

That was… quite the experience… Almost surreal ….

Placing a hand on the side of his head in confusion, Flug shook it off and went to take care of the body. The entire experience didn’t stop running through his head the whole while.

There were no words Flug had that could describe how their altered relationship had continued to shift and morph since then.

Flug first noticed it with the way Black Hat’s eyes studied him, bore through him right to the bone and stripped his soul bare. There lived no mordacity or annoyance behind his constant gazes, which was unnervingly strange in and of itself. Worse was that Flug couldn’t tell what Black Hat was looking at him with. Was it condescension? It didn’t feel like something that negative... Maybe… curiosity? Interest? But interest in what? No matter what explanation his mind tried to present, Flug knew there was something he had to be missing. Something he wasn’t seeing.

The mystery was only made harder to solve by the way Black Hat would touch him. In the past, the only form of physical contact they’d ever shared was aggressive in nature, as Black Hat had a nasty habit of manhandling anybody nearby in his moments of explosive rage. As such, it was hard not to flinch when the demon would put his hands on him. But, especially after that unusual encounter they’d had, his touches have become shockingly gentle.

What were once brief pats on the back became lingering touches, claws tracing temperate lines along his meek frame, a hand resting on his shoulder just a bit too long… He’d also just stand far closer than usual whenever they were going over work projects together. Flug thought for a moment that perhaps all this time spent around Black Hat’s eldritch presence was finally driving him insane, but there was no way that he could be imagining these things. Out of all things for his mind to try and play tricks with, why something like this?

Furthermore, as someone who’s always enjoyed his alone time, Flug simply couldn’t wrap his head around why Black Hat kept joining him in the lab for the most benign of times. Even today, all he was doing was reading a newspaper with his morning acid, something he usually did in the comfort of his own office.

Occasional glances in his boss’s direction yielded the same results, those strange stares that made Flug feel so vulnerable being aimed back at him every now and then. He tried to focus on his work, to throw himself into his invention to distract from the outside world as usual, but his rattled nerves simply refused to let him do that today.

The next time he found his boss staring, Flug put down his tools, confronting the issue with a meek question.

“A-Are you ups-set with me?”

A glimmer of curiosity passed through Black Hat’s eyes. He put his newspaper down, that unnerving gaze completely honed in on his scientist. “What makes you think I’m upset with you?”

“W-Well, it’s… uh… I-I don’t kn-know, you’ve just b-been kind of…” Flinching slightly as Black Hat rose from his seat to approach him, Flug greatly struggled to finish that thought, looking all around the lab to avoid any sort of eye contact. “Y-y-you’ve b-been s-st- staring a l-lot lately, a-a-and, um–” He backed up as his boss got closer, just barely catching himself when he knocked into the table behind him, “A-and th-the t- touching … I-I just d-don’t u-und-derstand w-what–”

Flug’s stuttering was cut short when Black Hat took the side of his face into his hand, turning the scientist’s head to make their eyes meet.

“Tell me, doctor,” Black Hat purred, “Do I look upset to you?”

“N-n-no…?” Flug squeaked in response.

“There is your answer.” His head lolled to the side, studying Flug far too closely for comfort. His hand slinked down from Flug's face, the doctor withdrawing a sharp breath as deadly claws traced along his neck before finding its new resting place on his shoulder. “Does it bother you when I touch you?”

“W-Would it m-mat-tter if it d-did…?”

The way Black Hat narrowed his eyes at him, the hints of an annoyed frown starting to tug at his lips, quickly startled Flug into correcting his behavior. He straightened his back, answering the question directly this time. “N-no sir, it’s n-no bother.”

Just like that, Black Hat seemed to relax again. “Good.” He pulled his hand away, returning to the couch to pick up his newspaper. “You look like you’re having trouble focusing, so I suppose I’ll leave you to it for now.”

And, just like that, he was gone.

That… did not answer any of Flug’s questions.

Honestly, it was likely in Flug’s better judgment to stop questioning these changes in behavior to Black Hat’s face. Confusing as their new dynamic may have been, at least it was better than getting thrown around like a ragdoll on a near-daily basis.

That wasn’t the way Black Hat saw it, however.

The way Black Hat saw it, all of this peculiar behavior had been a simple case of testing the waters. Unfortunately, his next move would be one Flug could’ve never prepared for.

Aaaand here’s where things get a little tumblr-unsafe, so to the AO3 void you go! (Please heed the warning tags over there)

#villainos #villainous #paperhat #black hat #flug #demencia #505 #now watch as this has like 20 mistakes i missed LMAO

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ali3nboyfriend · 27 days ago

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last anon here, i'm transmasc and have had maybe the worst time possible on tumblr trying to find community here wrt my gender without accidentally falling into discourse and transphobia over and over again. in the face of feeling like i don't have anywhere i belong and that everyone else fuckin hates me for no reason, your blog is just so refreshingly Normal. i don't think you're particularly extraordinary or anything but it was just nice to see you rb that post about trans guys who get pregnant after me having a weird gender morning, so thank you. i can still kill in your name if you want though

i love you so much and i'm holding your hands.

i try and look at the discourse and stuff i see re: trans men especially with like... as much empathy and compassion as i can. a lot of the vitriol slung towards us on this platform are from our fellows who are hurting just as much as we are. sometimes it's because they don't realize what they're saying is hurtful, and sometimes it's because it is an unfortunately very human compulsion to try and grab control of whatever you can when you feel like you don't have anything you can control in your life. this isn't excusing some of the stuff i've seen said by any stretch, but it does kinda keep me from getting like........ doom spiral upset or angry about it. (not that i think that's what you're doing! just that it's how i process my own feelings about it)

i also think a lot of marginalized folk never really learned how to properly unpack their disgust responses to certain situations. we live in a society 🤡 that's very reactionary (at least, a lot of western societies are reactionary by nature, esp the United States), and it makes sense that when you've been geared up to React on a dime to something you don't really feel that you have the time to sit and deconstruct what it is you're actually doing. a lot of us haven't been taught to dig through why we feel the ways we feel about different people in our community, about why some other people would want to undergo their journey w their sexuality or gender differently from us, about why other people would think about things differently from us at all. and i know that can feel contradictory, because it is, when being in the queer community is entirely about transgression against strictly adhering to what's considered "normal" or "standard" in sexuality and sex and gender. but honestly i think so many people don't realize that coming to terms w yourself and walking away from your oppressive or stifling upbringing is only step 1, and step 2 is unlearning everything you were taught. my personal motto is "if it's not hurting anyone in any tangible way, or if the people it might theoretically be hurting are of sound mind and consenting to that, why should i actually care?" i try not to reblog discourse-type posts in general unless i 100% back what they're saying.

anyways point being is that like. it's not your job to teach anyone what they're doing and saying is wrong but it helps me, personally, to understand that a lot of the time they don't really realize they're being harmful and in fact think they're being helpful and advocating for the community. and i know it's a meme to say "people need to log off and go touch grass" but i honest to god really do think a lot of the really dumb and frustrating discourse i see on this site would just disappear if everyone spouting it logged off and talked to another queer human person face to face. which i understand is not something everyone can do. does not mean it would not help them lol.

people in the community IRL often just aren't talking about the things we see from the community online. they're all fuckin living their lives and using whatever labels and naming conventions they think feel right without caring about, like.... defining them. if you have a queer presence in your area at all and you're able to go to in-person things it might help a lot of the frustration and hurt you're feeling to see if they have any meetups you can attend? literally just googling like, "lgbt [CITY NAME HERE]", you can usually find some kind of pride alliance or LGBT org, and those things are almost always doing movie nights and meetups and stuff. you do have a place and you are wanted and i'm sorry you've been subjected to seeing shit that's made you feel in any way otherwise.

#starscream.txt #anonymous #answered #sorry for the novel but i really feel for you and i had a lot to say about it #i was really angry as a teen and as a young adult #and i was angry because i was hurting #and honestly who's to say. i probably hurt other people out of that anger just like people on tumblr are doing now.#it's simultaneously a good time to be trans and a very scary time to be trans because so many eyes are on us now #best thing i can do for angry people is be compassionate because it really does disarm them #but i cannot reasonably expect everyone to react the same way when they're feeling attacked #approaching stuff like that w any degree of calm takes a lot of time and effort and exhaustion that isn't always rewarding #and it's not healthy for everyone. at least i don't think that it is.#esp if you have a tendency to shoulder blame or fawn when under fire #i'm so sorry you've been feeling attacked #i hope you find your people #i promise they're out there

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gothcsz · 8 months ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter I.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Javier gets acquainted with his new job and new life in small town, Texas.

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: Mutual pining, talks of homicide, they really wanna fuck each other, beginning of a beautiful slow burn, lots of smoking, southern gothic vibes are strong with this one, if you love worldbuilding then this is the fic for you, mentions of a religious cult, subtle slutshaming.

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: it’s official, i am now licensed! lol jk jk but hooray to a first chapter! i’ve been working on this thing non stop trying to get the characterization and dynamic and overall voice of the story down pat. i had so much fun writing this tbh and i hope the person reading this enjoyed… well… reading it! i’m still trying to get the hang of writing/posting a whole ass fic while also learning how AO3/Tumblr works so pls be GENTLE with me *cries* i'm not sure what the upload schedule will be yet but just know ya girl is devoting all her free time to this currently.... anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback in my ask. < 3

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Javier Peña doesn’t know if he should see this reassignment as a good thing. He had gotten himself in a pretty hairy situation down in Colombia. His involvement with a death squad and the cartel had him pulled from the biggest case of his career right as they were on the verge of catching Escobar… and only he is to blame for that. He crossed a boundary with himself, gotten innocent people killed and what exactly does he have to show for it?

A reassignment to a small, shitty town in the middle of Texas.

At least in South America he had a great view to cope with the shitty happenings. The lush mountains of Medellín that stretched for miles and miles, the bustling of the the country’s capitol, Bogotá, or the portrait perfect skyline of Cali.

Here, it’s just dirt roads with barbed wired fences lining the vast amounts of grassy lands. Occasional livestock litter the area; Seminary’s only lifeline is farming since most of the families that reside here own ranches or crop fields. The town is able to sustain itself with what it produces, therefore not needing many additional businesses. Just a few blocks of shops and civil buildings. No hospital but a doctor’s office with one singular clinician, a grindhouse, some boutiques, a bakery, a very small post office that shares its space with the local newspaper.

Typical spaces you’d find in a settlement like this.

He can’t change his past and all his wrongdoings. Instead, Javier can try and see the fucking silver lining of the situation; that he finally has time to catch his breath… to slow down, for once. The concept is foreign to him. He’s been fleeing from it since he was an adolescent.

A fact that his father, Chucho, had brought up when Javier told the older man of his new job.

“Seminary? ¿Donde putas es eso? (Where the fuck is that?)”

“Couple hours southwest of El Paso. A smidge on the map.”

“A smidge on the map sounds like exactly what you need, hombre (man).” His pops tells him, taking a swig from his beer as the two lean against the wooden fence that keeps the herd of horses from running amuck.

Javi doesn’t say anything, instead gazing out into the vastness of the family ranch.

“All that craziness down there in Colombia te pudre le mente. El cuerpo. (It rots your mind. Your body.) And I’ll be damned if a heart attack takes you out before me.” The men chuckle briefly, sounding just alike.

“Comes with its own shit. A damn ‘cult’.” Javi scoffs, taking a smooth drag from the cigarette between his lips. “Least that’s what the locals think. Could just be a damn serial killer.” No different from what he’s experienced with the cartel.

“Shit is goin’ to be anywhere you go, hijo (son), pero se me hace a mi (it seems to me) that the shit they got goin’ on in Seminary is much more manageable than la mierda con Escobar (the shit with Escobar).” Just hearing his name has Javier clenching his jaw subconsciously and Chucho takes notice.

“Just an old man’s opinion. Take this time to look within. Figure out the type of man you want to be after being chewed up and spat out of Colombia.” Another swig of beer, “Pero eres tan bruto, nunca me haces caso (but you’re so stubborn, you never listen to me). ”

“In a shocking turn of events, this might be the one time I do.” Javier snuffs out the finished cigarette against the wooden pole, tossing it aside carelessly and crossing his arms against his chest. “But don’t get your hopes up. ”

“As long as you don’t drink the damn kool aid, vaz a estar bien (you’re going to be fine).” The father and son share another laugh, this time much more lighthearted.

Javi blinks slowly behind the aviators that sit on the bridge of his nose, the bright and grueling Texas sun beaming down on him harshly. Finishing his cigarette, he pushes himself off the hood of his restored Ford pickup truck. He’s been sitting outside of Seminary’s Sheriff’s Department for about ten minutes now, the small building located right in the middle of town very easy to find.

Then again, it wasn’t hard to get lost in a place this small.

It is unimpressive and has the makings of any other small town government building. An American flag flown proudly above Texas’s, the lettering that labeled the building faded due to being unkept and time.

Javier knows that the dread he feels comes from not being able to sit still. It’s why he found some kind of pleasure working down in Colombia. Things were always moving at a fast pace, albeit he had done a lot of pencil pushing and running down the clock, but the city itself was bustling with life and culture that kept him on go even when he was idle.

Here, however, the stillness is suffocating and he wonders how the people of Seminary can breathe.

Is this sentiment what sparked the murders? Had someone finally had enough of the mundane and decided to spruce things up?

His eyes narrow, if he continues to stand out here any longer, the sheriff will begin to wonder if the new guy had bailed before even coming in.

He jogs up the steps that lead up to the main building, taking them two at a time then pushing open the worn, glass door of the entrance; removing his sunglasses and letting them hang from the collar of the cream colored button up shirt he’s wearing.

He takes in his surroundings and somehow he feels like he and Murphy had more space back at the embassy than what they have here.

There’s a front desk to the immediate right being tended to by an older woman with fiery red hair that’s got reading glasses on, too engrossed in her novel to notice that he’s stepped in.

Other than that, it's everything one would expect a sheriff’s department to look like. Desks pushed together here and there, singular ceiling fan lazily spinning in the center of the room, a break room tucked to the back, the hallway that led to detaining rooms and other necessary spaces, variety of office supplies and filing cabinets.

It almost looks too normal.

“Need somethin’, dear?” He is returned to himself as the older woman finally takes notice of him with a friendly smile, her eyes not so subtly giving him a once over. “We don’t usually get hunks ‘round here. You must be lost, sugar.”

Javier smirks, even without trying he’s got women smitten.

“Fortunately for you, ma’am, seems like I’m in the right place. Javier Peña, new Deputy Sheriff.” He strolls over to her desk, leaning against it as he reaches his hand out for her to shake.

She lets out a warm laugh and they shake hands in which Javi notices a soft pink tint of blush on the apples of her cheeks. “Fortunately for me indeed. I’m Lorraine, darlin’, I pretty much run everythin’ ‘round here but don’t you go tellin’ Romeo that.” She winks at him.

“Don’t go tellin’ Romeo what now, Lorraine? That you’re gunnin’ for my job?” A boisterous voice interrupts them and Javier immediately recognizes it to be the sheriff.

“Oh, I thought that was somethin’ we all already knew?”

“Hate to say it but she’s right. Works circles around me that one. Romeo Leighton. Great to have you here, Javier.” The sheriff now speaks to Javier directly, and he takes this as a sign to straighten his posture and formally introduce himself as well.

The man has a good fifteen years on Javi, standing a few inches taller with a much more worn look to him. He’s a bit skinny yet built, except for the typical beer belly most southern men tend to have. A scruffy and short beard with unruly hair that’s a mix of grays and dark browns.

“Thanks for having me.” The two share a brief handshake, “M’sure you two could handle the town all on your own, so I appreciate you making room for a plus one.” Javier decides to turn on the good ‘ol southern charm and it seems to land as intended as the atmosphere in the room remains friendly and the sheriff chuckles.

“Look at him catchin’ on so quick. We just might not let you go, amigo.” Lorraine playfully rolls her eyes and reaches over to pass the older man a stack of files. “These just came in from Rankin County.”

“You got here just in time. We got some new developments on the murders.” And just like that, the lively talk is over and they get right into the job.

“Heard there were mentions of a group of some sorts?” Javier brings it up, wanting to get a gauge on the sheriff’s reaction instead of just reading about it through reports.

“Just rumors. Nothing concrete to back it up.”

The two men now find themselves in Romeo’s office, each smoking a cigarette with multiple files sprawled across the wooden desk.

Here’s what they know: three woman murdered along the highway that these towns share all within a year. They sustained multiple stab wounds, yet the fatal insertion was that of a sharp blade going straight through the heart. The men don’t know if that was intentional or accidental due to the amount of times their chests had been punctured.

It is gruesome, to say the least, but nothing that Javier hasn’t seen before, unfortunately. The way the cartel got creative with their murders just to send a message to their rivals had him exposed to many atrocities; he was desensitized to most forms of violence. Yet, the passion behind these crimes and unclear motive has piqued Javi’s interest the more they discussed it.

“Then again… it could be nothin’. Just a giant, fucked up coincidence.” The sheriff grumbles, clearly frustrated by the lack of information.

“No, I don’t think so. Too similar of a killing method. Any clue what weapon was used?” Javier leans forward in the uncomfortable, leather chair to ash his cigarette and sifting through the papers, trying to find the coroner’s reports for all three victims.

“Some kind of dagger or knife. Thought it might have been a huntin’ knife but all the wounds were clean cut. No serrated edges on the weapon.”

Javi hums, going over the details in his head for the millionth time trying to see the picture that was so clearly painted in front of him.

There was just simply not enough evidence to make anything out of it. On top of that, the assailant hasn’t struck again in months. A good thing for the general public but not for them if they have any intention of bringing justice to the families of the victims and catching whoever was behind these heinous crimes.

Javier also realizes that while these murders were tame to him, they were most certainly not tame to the people around here. Atrocities as these simply didn’t happen in places like Seminary and surrounding areas. Now that they were dealing with the aggressive reality of humanity, it was shaking them to their core.

So much so that the God fearing townsfolk began spreading rumors that the devil had its eye on the town and already infiltrated the progressive minds of the local youth.

“There’s always some truth to rumors, you know.” Javi begins, gray smoke flooding out from his mouth and nostrils as he puffs out from the nicotine stick, “Someone must’ve seen or heard somethin’ to implicate the younger crowd. ”

The sheriff leans back in his chair, using his thumb to rub out the concentrated frown that had etched itself between his brows, “People ‘round here are pretty stuck in their ways, myself included at times, they don’t like the way this new generation is comin’ up. Barely goin’ to church, spendin’ more time at the bar than at work. How sexual music’s gotten. Small shit like that gets people talkin’. It’s annoyin’ but it’s just talk.”

Javier is going to have to polish his interpersonal skills. Something larger could be at play here so he makes a mental note to go out and talk to these people himself to get a better feeling for what the general sentiment is.

Hell, he might even start going back to church. He can’t remember the last time he step foot in one. With what all had transpired further south; he’d lost his faith entirely. There was so much evil and greed in the world, he felt helpless at the realization that even religion became aversive to him.

“M’sure somethin’ll come up eventually.” Javier decides to be optimistic, struggling to do so but also wanting to turn over a new leaf, “In the meantime we’ll just have to make do with what we got. It’s been a while since the fucker struck so maybe they're done. Got a taste for it and decided they didn’t like it.” He finishes off his cigarette, stubbing it out and leaning back against the chair.

“A fresh set of eyes will really help with that. Appreciate you comin’ here, Peña. Don’t know much about your time down in Colombia but I can imagine it was rough. This is a massive change for you. Goin’ from damn drug traffickers to a coupla girls gettin’ stabbed on the side of a highway.” The older man continues to puff on his cigarette, his statement falling flat and almost in bad taste but Javier doesn’t say anything, instead shrugging.

“I got a job— M’not complaining’.” That was almost not the case, and a nasty feeling at the pit of his gut stirs at the remembrance of his meeting with the board in D.C. in a few weeks to get his official reprimanding for his ties with Los Pepes.

Javi is surprised that the Sheriff doesn’t bring up Judy Moncada’s quotes from the Miami Herald. Either he wasn’t informed or he simply did not care.

“That’s the spirit. What do you have goin’ on tonight?” Romeo begins, changing the subject entirely, and Javier can sense an invitation incoming. “‘Cause I’d love to have ya over for dinner. Give you a proper introduction to Seminary. You can meet my daughter, Paloma, too.” The sheriff then picks up one of the framed photos on his desk, turning it over for Javier to see.

A portrait of a stunning young woman sporting a cowboy hat, smiling brightly at the camera.

“Ain’t she a beaut?” He pulls the picture back, asking rhetorically and Javier clears his throat.

For a moment he contemplates the dinner invitation, part of him wanting to be alone in the comfort of his new space but the other part wanting to just throw himself into this to keep his mind occupied and away from the grueling memories of the lengthy time he’d spent in Colombia.

“Sure, I’ll come by.” He decides. If he thought about it for a second longer, he’d talk himself out of going.

A large, friendly grin spreads on Romeo’s face and he nods, finally finishing off his cigarette. “Alright now, you can stop by ‘round 7.” He moves some of the files aside revealing a notepad and he digs in his shirt pocket to pull out a pen. Scribbling down his address messily onto the blank piece of paper, he tears it off and leans over to hand it to Javier.

“Not that hard to get to.” Javier nods curtly and takes the paper, folding it and stuffing it into his back pocket.

It’s later in the day, the sun cascading into the distance; its hues of deep oranges and reds softening as the night sky begins to take over.

Paloma sits on the rocking chair that matches her father’s out on the porch. A guitar nestled in her lap and personal booklet resting on the arm of the chair as she strums lightly, building the chorus of her new song out loud. She takes the pencil from behind her ear and jots down something quickly and messily, returning to strumming and humming simultaneously.

“Paloma!” She hears the loud voice of her father practically making the walls shake as he calls out for her from his bedroom that was on the other side of the house. They often opened all the doors and windows to allow the soft breeze to flow throughout their space.

She groans, stopping her actions as the melody she was on the brink of figuring out leaves her entirely.

“What, daddy?!” She yells back, waiting for his reply which never comes.

He does this all the time.

Cursing quietly, Paloma stands from her comfortable spot, gently leaning her guitar against the wall then walking in to the house.

She finds Romeo exiting his bedroom and walking towards her, bottle of his good scotch in hand with a relieved look on his face. “Couldn’t find the goddamn liquor. Thought you had nabbed it from me.” He pinches her nose as he walks by her, in which she scrunches her face at the action. It's something he’s done since she was a little girl. It can be endearing but most of the time; it was just annoying.

“That’s the good stuff, daddy. I would never.” She follows behind him as they enter the kitchen, “Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel.” She watches as he begins to set out the dinnerware for tonight, and that’s when she realizes how late it has gotten.

It’s easy for Paloma to lose herself in her music. She has been able to since she was a child. Her mother had nursed the hobby the moment she saw how truly talented her daughter was. In return, Paloma became skillful in being able to play damn near any instrument put in front of her. And she could sing, too.

Beautifully.

“Javier’s got a sharp mind that I can use ‘round here. Thinkin’ I can finally start makin’ some damn progress. That deserves a special drink, don’t ya think? Come help me set the table.” She obliges, thinking her father’s words over.

The murders have been weighing heavily on his shoulders since they began. All the time and effort he’s put in to make the puzzle pieces fit only to come up empty handed. Paloma doesn’t know the specifics of it, just what he rants to her here and there. He doesn’t like to bring his work home.

Romeo has been away a lot since putting his entire focus on the cases. Many nights spent at the office but he at least tries to share one meal with his daughter throughout the week. Paloma understands this, and like always she gives him his space and doesn’t complain about it.

The only reason she’s stuck around Seminary for so long is for him. He wouldn’t know what to do without her.

“Well I’m glad things are lookin’ up, finally. Can’t wait to meet this sharp thinkin’ Javier.” They finish setting up and Paloma excuses herself to go get changed into something a little more dressy seeing as her father was looking more put together than usual.

He must really be trying to make an impression.

Her room is on the second floor, alongside her childhood playroom and the empty room that contained some miscellaneous items.

Like her mother’s things.

Paloma always has a habit of letting her gaze linger at the closed, white wooden door of the room every time she passes it. In a strange way, she feels like her mother is standing behind that door; just waiting for her to open it and greet her like her daughter wishes she could.

But she hardly ever does, the sorrow feeling in her chest too heavy for her to bear being in there for longer than a few minutes.

She passes it with a quick glance, now entering her bedroom and throwing open her wardrobe doors. It’s a mess, like it usually is, but it’s an organized chaos that only Paloma Leighton could decipher.

After eyeing some outfits, she decides on a cream toned, linen romper with shorts. It has a deep V cut in the front that tastefully exposed some of the tanned skin between her breasts. However, she puts on a matching lace bralette underneath to soften the risqué of the outfit.

Her hair is the brown of aged mahogany. Long and thick, it falls almost to her waist and she does nothing but brush it out. It naturally falls the way she likes. A beautifully sculpted cross necklace hangs from her neck; it was her mother’s and she’d given it to Paloma shortly before passing. She finishes getting ready by spritzing some of her perfume and applying lip gloss before sauntering down the steps.

She hears the soft sound of her father’s record playing some old school country tune, the song sounding throughout the house and she smiles gently. She crosses the threshold and is out on the porch to gather her things from earlier when she catches the headlights of a vehicle coming down the elongated driveway of the property.

That must be him.

“Daddy, your friend’s here!”

Javier got a chance to get to get acquainted with the town before his dinner with the sheriff. He wandered around the shops and establishments that littered the main street of Seminary, drove the backroads then up and down the highway a few times to get a feel for how he would approach his new job.

The conclusion he’s come to is that the town, for the most part, is harmless. But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?

After his exploration, he finally made it to the place he would be calling home until further notice. A dingy yet quaint trailer home located on about two acres of land. It has everything he requires. Furnished neatly and stocked with all the cooking utensils he could ever need but ultimately never use. Javier found himself more comfortable after unpacking the few items he’d brought along with him.

Maybe his father was right. Maybe he can finally slip into some normalcy.

But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?

After a stop at the local bakery, an ‘if you blink you’ll miss it’ type of establishment, and the purchase of some homemade banana pudding; the man is driving up a dirt path to Romeo’s home.

The sheriff lives on an impressive mount of land, his house looking like something plucked straight out of an old southern painting. A large, two story home with a wraparound porch. A typical white picket fence surrounds the immediate area. The landscaping is beautiful, it looks very well tended to and he can hear Chucho’s voice ringing in the back of his head.

“¿Vez? Que te dije (see? what did I tell you)— peaceful.”

He cuts the engine of his Ford, checking his appearance in the rearview mirror before grabbing the tinfoil container from the passenger’s seat and getting out.

The first thing he sees as he approaches the front door are long, tan legs that lead up to some full and soft looking thighs that instantly have him licking his lips.

And who is this?

“Good evening, ma’am.” His deep voice cuts through the sound of the summer evening, his Texan accent thick. The sounds of toads croaking in the distance and different insects chirping about set a pleasant ambiance for the southern night.

The woman stands alert at the sound of his voice and turns to face him, which causes Javi to damn near lose his breath at the sight of the beauty in front of him.

It is the same woman that Romeo had shown him earlier, except the picture didn’t do her natural beauty any justice. She’s got the most gorgeous features he’s ever seen on a woman, and he’s been around a lot of beautiful women.

Her lips are pouty and pink, the gloss she’s wearing accentuates their plushness so well. Honey colored brown eyes that even from where he stands can see twinkle with curiosity beneath the soft porch lights. Freckles sprinkle across her nose and the tops of her cheeks complimented by her natural blush.

Damn.

“You must be Javier. I’m Paloma, Romeo’s daughter.” She smiles at him in which he can’t help but mirror as she sets down the guitar in her possession and he slowly walks up the porch steps.

Well, this certainly is a pleasant surprise. When Paloma’s father had told her about the new guy that was joining the department, she just pictured some run of the mill, old looking man. One that looked like every other one of his colleagues.

She most definitely wasn’t expecting such a handsome man like the one that’s in front of her.

“Paloma.” The way her name falls from his lips with a Spanish accent has her stomach erupting in butterflies.

She’s never heard anyone say it like that.

“Beautiful name. Very fitting.” The flirtatious compliment is one she’s heard too many times to count, but hearing it come from him makes it feel like the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. Their close proximity has her catching a whiff of his cologne mixed with.. cigarettes?

Her thighs clench involuntarily.

Javier takes her hand in his as she extends it to greet him. Instead of going in for a handshake, he brings it up to his lips and places a soft kiss against her knuckles. It has her tingling all over; electricity sprouting from the spot where the kiss is planted. She can’t help the way her blush deepens at the action, and she almost wants to slap herself for reacting so easily.

Dating isn't a priority in Paloma’s life. Any man worth having in this town is already taken and the rest are nothing but a waste of time. Just some fun for her to have, hooking up with a handful of them whenever her fingers couldn’t get the job done.

It is rare when there's an eligible newcomer and even then she is too preoccupied with keeping the family home in shape and her music to even think about dating. She is aware of the way the gossips in town talk about her, disliking that she is a single and childless twenty-six year old woman.

“She should be married by now. At her age I already had three kids.”

“It’s so sad, really.”

“I’ve heard she’s given it up to about half the boys in town.”

They gasp and glance over at her over their shoulders. Paloma pretends she doesn’t see them do this.

Her true love, aside from music, is that of traveling. She wants nothing more than to leave Seminary all together and head west, see what the rest of the world has to offer. Take a chance on her music... make a name for herself.

Unfortunately for her, she’s got some heavy family ties here in Texas (her father) and after the death of her mother— she wouldn’t dare leave him. The guilt would eat her alive.

Was it fair for her to give up her aspirations just to keep one person happy? No… but things aren’t always fair and she has a decent life here in Seminary. She doesn't have to worry about paying any bills or surviving on her own; though she knows she’s more than capable of doing so if she really had to. She only has that job at the library to help pass the time whenever she’s not buried in a book or playing her day away on the piano. Any money she receives is stashed away in an old jewelry box in the back of her closet in case one day she finally decides to leave.

All that to say that romantically, men aren't something she focuses on. However, this man in particular, she could spare some of her attention to. Something about his swagger is attractive. He shifts his weight onto one foot and pokes his hip out slightly; giving her a good view of his built figure.

“Clever and charming. Guess daddy was right about you.” Paloma cocks her head to the side slightly, taking in his appearance better now that he was closer and damn, is he handsome. The type of handsome that you only see on TV.

He’s clad in a long sleeve, forest colored shirt with a few buttons undone at the top; a gold chain teasing her against his brown skin. He’s rolled the sleeves up on the shirt up to his elbows and she notices how rugged he looks, veins on his forearms flexing ever so slightly. Tight cowboy jeans are paired with some expensive looking brown leather boots and a nice belt to tie it all in together.

Her eyes travel up from his body to his countenance, noticing how truly handsome and mature he is. Like he’s experienced things she’d never come close to imagining. She wants to know it all. The full 70s looking pornstache above his lip somehow very appealing to Paloma, whose ‘type’ up until this moment has been clean cut, military boys.

He is anything but clean cut, and she likes that.

His lips full, nose very distinguished with a devilish curve and… stable looking. A perfect seat for her to perch herself on. She can practically feel it nudging against her clit before he completely devours her.

A lazy yet cocky lopsided smile tugs at his lips, as if he can see the filthy thoughts in her head. “Already talking me up, I see.” he greets Romeo, whom Paloma hadn’t realized had stepped outside since she was too preoccupied eye fucking the stranger in front of her.

“Didn’t tell her nothin’ that wasn’t true. What’s that you got there?” The older man gestures to the container.

“I could spot Betty’s homemade banana puddin’ with my eyes closed.” Paloma speaks up, trying to recover from the slight embarrassment she feels for thinking so sinfully about him.

Javier’s onyx colored eyes meet hers again and she looks away almost bashfully, occupying herself by finally gathering her things.

“I couldn’t show up empty handed. Ma woulda slapped me right upside the head. Where are your manners, niño (boy) ?” He does what she would assume is an impression of his mother and this gets a giggle out of her.

She is utterly interested in getting to know him better.

“On behalf of us, you can thank your mother for instilling manners into ya. Come on in, we cleaned for once.” He jokes, ushering his company in and she just rolls her eyes playfully at her father’s antics.

The night turns out to be very enjoyable for Javi. He is in good company and the dinner provided, cooked by Paloma since she didn’t let her father take credit for any of it, definitely helped soothe over some of the smaller, sore spots left by Colombia.

They laugh and swap stories, Javier shares some of his more lighthearted moments in the country down south while Paloma and Romeo try to out-embarrass each other with different family tales.

It helps to have some eye candy, though, as he finds it difficult to keep his eyes away from her longer than a few seconds. Even while the sheriff is in direct conversation with him, Javier can see her from his peripheral and how she also can’t seem to peel her gaze from him.

Murphy always gave him a ‘hard time’ about his effect on women and how Javier used it to his advantage. It’s the only way he got shit rollin’ down in Colombia. The only people that approached him willingly were the working ladies that resided in the city.

And who was he to turn down a good, even great time?

Quickly enough, word had spread amongst the girls and next thing he knew; he had a list of ‘informants’ so long that even he began to lose track.

It was simple, getting information from them then taking them back to his place… his car… or the bar restroom. Whatever was most convenient.

Most of the time they would come to him with bullshit leads just to see him again, and most of the time he would just give them what they wanted, which was just another blissful night with Agent Peña.

Something about Paloma, however, gives him the impression that he wouldn’t fuck her how he did those girls down south. Not unless she asked… begged him to, at least.

He’d make sure to kiss every inch of her golden skin, make her feel good and satisfied before burying himself deep inside her. What’d he do to see those pretty lips parted with his name falling from them like a prayer.

“You should sing him somethin’. ”

Romeo’s suggestion has Javier raising his brows and snapping him out of his thoughts.

They’ve moved out onto the porch, taking in the peacefulness of the night and the clear view of all stars the littered the unobscured sky. The banana pudding long gone.

“I am not some show pony you can just make do tricks whenever you like, old man.” She retorts playfully from her spot on the top of the porch steps, meddling with the rings on her fingers.

From this angle, Javier is able to get a better look at those thighs he’s been fantasizing about all night. Is it a terrible move to go after your quote un quote ‘bosses’ daughter after just meeting her? Probably, but Javi’s done worse and he’s picked up that she seems to be very keen to his subtle advances. Or not subtle, depending on how well he is able to hide any type of direct flirtation with his natural charisma.

“You shy to?” Javi asks her, lighting the cigarette that rests between his lips. He is a pro at chain smoking, this making it the fourth one he’s smoked in the last hour that they’ve been out here.

She snorts, shaking her head and looking over at him. When their gazes meet, he can’t help the shadow of a smirk hover his lips and she slightly narrows her eyes at him.

“That one? Shy? The last damn word I’d use to describe her.” Romeo takes a swig from the scotch he’s poured, pointing at his daughter. “Sometimes I can’t get her to shut up.”

“Wow, and father of the year goes to…” She replies sarcastically, standing which allows Javier to let his eyes linger over her body, taking a long drag from the cigarette to keep his perverted thoughts at bay.

Like how he wanted to feel her thighs wrapped around his waist. Or better, his head.

“I’m just teasin’. She’s got such an angelic voice, I never get tired of hearin’ her sing.” The sincerity in Romeo’s tone pulls Javier out of his ogling, attention now over to the older man.

“You should come see her at The Whiskey Fox weekend nights. Puts on one hell of a show.” She leans back against the railing, crossing one foot over the other. This causes the shorts of her romper to rise up slightly, exposing more of her skin.

Like a moth to a flame, he’s eyeing her once more but doesn’t make it as obvious. He wouldn't want to be chased out of here by a shotgun wielding, overprotective father.

“Is The Whiskey Fox the spot to go to in town?” Javier asks to no one in particular, ashing his cigarette on the small plate that sits on the small table between him and the sheriff.

“More like the only spot in town. It’s a bar with a stage, n’they have the best loaded fries. Swear.” She informs him, once again commanding his undivided attention.

No matter how many times he looks at her, he’s still taken aback by how breathtakingly beautiful she is.

“Well if you swear then I guess I’ll have to stop by some time.” He nods his head towards her and she smiles softly, pushing herself off the railing.

“Just give me a heads up when you decide to make your first appearance.” He hears a hint of flirtatiousness in her statement, as if she’s rolling the ball in his court to make the first move.

As badly as he wants to take her up on that, thinking on a whim like he always has; Javier stops from doing so. This was a chance for him to start anew, amend for all the mistakes he made in Colombia.

But she’s making it very difficult for him to.

Did he really have any intention of changing if all it takes to throw caution in the wind is one pretty girl?

“As much as I’d love to stay in the pleasure of y’alls company….” She runs her hands down the front of her outfit and begins to head inside, “I have to be up early to open the library. You still takin’ me, daddy?” She asks the sheriff softly, stopping by the front door and Javier looks away, glancing out into the distance.

The older man grumbles out, “Yeah. We gotta get that car of yours up and runnin’ though. Don’t know how many free rides I got left in me.” The statement piques Javier’s interest and he can’t help but to rejoin the conversation.

“Got car problems?” He looks between them two, gaze lingering over her as she speaks up.

“Yeah, my Darla quit on me ‘bout a month ago. Mechanic in town can’t seem to fix the problem.” Paloma seems annoyed by that fact and that has him offering to help before his own brain can stop him from doing so.

“I restored my truck. Had some help from my pops but I pretty much got her up and runnin’ all by myself.” Javier takes another puff of his cigarette, keeping a small smirk at bay as he catches Paloma’s attention drift over to his vehicle in interest. “I wouldn’t mind takin’ a look at yours. If that’s okay. ”

Her father also lets out a sign of content, “That’d be fuckin’ great, Javi. Godsend this guy, poppin’ into town and helpin’ me solve all my goddamn problems. What’s it been— not even a day? Shiiit.” Romeo lets out a laugh, finishing off the contents in his short glass.

Javier would usually find this amount of praise annoying–– ass kissing to keep him content in the shitty position he’s been put it in. However, in this instance, he doesn’t really mind it. It would also give him an opportunity to get to know Paloma better without it crossing over into more nefarious territory.

“Yeah, very sweet of you. I’d really appreciate that.” Yet another glimpse of her enchanting smile. She bends down to place a kiss on her father’s cheek and then waves at him. “Good night y’all. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña.” Even though Javi had already told her to call him by his first name earlier, he can’t help but enjoy the way his surname pushes past her lips. That sweet voice of hers sounding like pure honey.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Miss Leighton.”

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